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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d5e64c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55174 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55174) diff --git a/old/55174-0.txt b/old/55174-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6a85f9e..0000000 --- a/old/55174-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8233 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Oratory Sacred and Secular, by William Pittenger - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Oratory Sacred and Secular - Or, the Extemporaneous Speaker, With Sketches of the Most - Eminent Speakers of All Ages - -Author: William Pittenger - -Release Date: July 23, 2017 [EBook #55174] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ORATORY SACRED AND SECULAR *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - ORATORY - SACRED AND SECULAR: - OR, THE - Extemporaneous Speaker, - WITH - SKETCHES OF THE MOST EMINENT SPEAKERS OF ALL AGES - - - BY WILLIAM PITTENGER, - Author of “Daring and Suffering.” - - _INTRODUCTION BY HON. JOHN A. BINGHAM_, - AND - _APPENDIX_ - CONTAINING A “CHAIRMAN’S GUIDE” FOR CONDUCTING PUBLIC MEETINGS ACCORDING - TO THE BEST PARLIAMENTARY MODELS. - - New York: - SAMUEL R. WELLS, PUBLISHER, 389 BROADWAY. - 1869. - - - - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, - By SAMUEL R. WELLS. - In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for - the Southern District of New York. - - - EDWARD O. JENKINS, - PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER, - 20 North William Street. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - PREFACE. - - -When we first began to speak in public, we felt the need of a manual -that would point out the hindrances likely to be met with, and serve as -a guide to self-improvement. Such help would have prevented many -difficult and painful experiences, and have rendered our progress in the -delightful art of coining thought into words more easy and rapid. In the -following pages we give the result of thought and observations in this -field, and trust it will benefit those who are now in the position we -were then. - -We have freely availed ourself of the labor of others, and would -especially acknowledge the valuable assistance derived from the writings -of Bautain, Stevens and Holyoake. Yet the following work, with whatever -merit or demerit it may possess, is original in both thought and -arrangement. - -We have treated general preparation with more than ordinary fullness, -for although often neglected, it is the necessary basis upon which all -special preparation rests. - -As the numerous varieties of speech differ in comparatively few -particulars, we have treated one of the most common—that of preaching—in -detail, with only such brief notices of other forms as will direct the -student in applying general principles to the branch of oratory that -engages his attention. - -We are not vain enough to believe that the modes of culture and -preparation pointed out in the following pages are invariably the best, -but they are such as we have found useful, and to the thoughtful mind -may suggest others still more valuable. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - PREFACE.—Objects of the Work stated 3 - - INTRODUCTION—By Hon. JOHN A. BINGHAM, Member of Congress 7 - - - =PART I.=—_GENERAL PREPARATIONS._ - - - CHAPTER I. - - THE WRITTEN AND EXTEMPORE DISCOURSE COMPARED—Illustrative Examples 13 - - - CHAPTER II. - - PREREQUISITES—Intellectual Competency; Strength of Body; Command of - Language; Courage; Firmness; Self-reliance 18 - - - CHAPTER III. - - BASIS OF SPEECH—Thought and Emotion; Heart Cultivation; Earnestness 27 - - - CHAPTER IV. - - ACQUIREMENTS—General Knowledge; of Bible; of Theology; of Men; - Method by which such Knowledge may be obtained 35 - - - CHAPTER V. - - CULTIVATION—Imagination; Language; Voice; Gesture; Confidence; - References to Distinguished Orators and Writers. 42 - - - =PART II.=—_A SERMON._ - - - CHAPTER I. - - THE FOUNDATION FOR A PREACHER—Subject; Object; Text; Hints to Young - Preachers 69 - - - CHAPTER II. - - THE PLAN—Gathering Thought; Arranging; Committing; Practical - Suggestions; Use of Notes 80 - - - CHAPTER III. - - PRELIMINARIES FOR PREACHING—Fear; Vigor; Opening Exercises; - Requisites for a Successful Discourse 96 - - - CHAPTER IV. - - THE DIVISIONS—Introduction, Difficulties in Opening; Discussion, - Simplicity and Directness; Conclusion 104 - - - CHAPTER V. - - AFTER CONSIDERATIONS—Success; Rest; Improvement; Practical - Suggestions 115 - - - =PART III.=—_SECULAR ORATORY._ - - - CHAPTER I. - - INSTRUCTIVE ADDRESS—Fields of Oratory; Oral Teaching; Lecturing 123 - - - CHAPTER II. - - MISCELLANEOUS ADDRESS—Deliberative; Legal; Popular; Controversial; - the Statesman; the Lawyer; the Lecturer; the Orator 127 - - - =PART IV.= - - EMINENT SPEAKERS DESCRIBED—St. Augustine; Luther; Lord Chatham; - William Pitt; Edmund Burke; Mirabeau; Patrick Henry; George - Whitefield; John Wesley; Sidney Smith; F. W. Robertson; Henry - Clay; Henry B. Bascom; John Summerfield; C. H. Spurgeon; Henry - Ward Beecher; Anna E. Dickinson; John A. Bingham; William E. - Gladstone; Matthew Simpson; Wendell Phillips; John P. Durbin; - Newman Hall, and others 133 - - - =APPENDIX.= - - THE CHAIRMAN’S GUIDE—How to Organize and Conduct Public Meetings - and Debating Clubs in Parliamentary style 199 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - INTRODUCTORY LETTER. - - - REV. WM. PITTENGER: CADIZ, O., _19th Nov., 1867_. - -DEAR SIR,—I thank you for calling my attention to your forthcoming work -on Extemporaneous Speaking. Unwritten speech is, in my judgment, the -more efficient method of public speaking, because it is the natural -method. The written essay, says an eminent critic of antiquity, “is not -a speech, unless you choose to call epistles speeches.” A cultivated -man, fully possessed of all the facts which relate to the subject of -which he would speak, who cannot clearly express himself without first -memorizing word for word his written preparation, can scarcely be called -a public speaker, whatever may be his capacity as a writer or reader. -The speaker who clothes his thoughts at the moment of utterance, and in -the presence of his hearers, will illustrate by his speech the admirable -saying of Seneca: “Fit words better than fine ones.” - -It is not my purpose to enter upon any inquiry touching the gifts, -culture and practice necessary to make a powerful and successful -speaker. It is conceded that in the art of public speaking, as in all -other arts, there is no excellence without great labor. Neither is it -the intent of the writer to suggest the possibility of speaking -efficiently without the careful culture of voice and manner, of -intellect and heart, an exact knowledge of the subject, and a careful -arrangement, with or without writing, of all the facts and statements -involved in the discussion. Lord Brougham has said that a speech written -before delivery is regarded as something almost ridiculous; may we not -add, that a speech made without previous reflection or an accurate -knowledge of the subject, would be regarded as a mere tinkling cymbal. I -intend no depreciation of the elaborate written essay read for the -instruction or amusement of an assembly; but claim that the essay, read, -or recited from memory, is not speech, nor can it supply the place of -natural effective speech. The essay delivered is but the echo of the -dead past, the speech is the utterance of the living present. The -delivery of the essay is the formal act of memory, the delivery of the -unwritten speech the living act of intellect and heart. The difference -between the two is known and felt of all men. To all this it may be -answered that the ancient speakers, whose fame still survives, carefully -elaborated their speeches before delivery. The fact is admitted with the -further statement, that many of the speeches of the ancient orators -never were delivered at all. Five of the seven orations of Cicero -against Verres were never spoken, neither was the second Philippic -against Mark Antony, nor the reported defence of Milo. We admit that the -ancient speakers wrote much and practised much, and we would commend -their example, in all, save a formal recital of written preparations. -There is nothing in all that has come to us concerning ancient oratory, -which by any means proves that to be effective in speech, what is to be -said should be first written and memorized; there is much that shows, -that to enable one to express his own thoughts clearly and forcibly, -reflection, culture and practice are essential. - -Lord Brougham, remarking on the habit of writing speeches, says: “That a -speech written before delivery is something anomalous, and a speech -intended to have been spoken is a kind of byword for something laughable -in itself, as describing an incongruous existence.” This distinguished -man, in his careful consideration of this subject, says: “We can hardly -assign any limits to the effects of great practise in giving a power of -extempore composition,” and notices that it is recorded of Demosthenes, -that when, upon some rare occasions, he trusted to the feeling of the -hour, and spoke off-hand, “his eloquence was more spirited and bold, and -he seemed sometimes to speak from a supernatural impulse.” If this be -true of the great Athenian who notoriously would not, if he could avoid -it, trust to the inspiration of the moment, and who for want of a -prepared speech, we are told by Æschines, failed before Philip,—might it -not be inferred that one practised in speaking, would utter his thoughts -with more spirit and power when not restrained by a written preparation -and fettered by its formal recital? - -Did not Fox often, in the Parliament, achieve the highest results of -speech without previous written preparation; and is it not a fact never -to be questioned, that the wonderful speech of Webster, in reply to -Hayne, was unwritten? - -In his admirable lecture on Eloquence, Mr. Emerson says: “Eloquence that -so astonishes, is only the exaggeration of a talent that is universal. -All men are competitors in this art. * * A man of this talent finds -himself cold in private company, and proves himself a heavy companion; -but give him a commanding occasion, and the inspiration of a great -multitude, and he surprises us by new and unlooked for powers.” * * - -Indeed, there is in this lecture of Mr. Emerson, in few words, much to -sustain your theory. He says, “the word eloquence strictly means -out-speaking; the main power, sentiment—the essential fact is heat, the -heat which comes of sincerity. Speak what you know and believe, and are -personally answerable for. This goes by weight and measure, like -everything else in the universe. A man to be eloquent must have faith in -his subject, and must have accurate knowledge of that subject. * * The -author of power—he is the great man who always makes a divine -impression, a sentiment more powerful in the heart than love of country, -and gives perceptions and feelings far beyond the limits of thought. -Eloquence is the power to translate a truth into a language perfectly -intelligible to the person to whom you speak. Such a practical -conversion of truth, written in God’s language, is one of the most -beautiful weapons forged in the shop of the Divine Artificer. God and -Nature are altogether sincere, and art should be as sincere.” How can -sincerity be fully attained in the great art of public speech, if every -word to be uttered must be previously written down in the closet, and -memorized and recited? Was not Lord Brougham right in saying a speech -written before delivery is inconsistent with the inspiration of the -moment, and the feelings under which the orator is always supposed to -speak? What feelings? The felt-conviction of the truth of what he has to -say. What inspiration? The inspiration which, at the moment, clothes and -expresses the honest thought in appropriate words. - -Surely the living voice, rightly cultivated, and rightly employed, is a -power in the world, and to condemn you for calling attention to what you -believe to the most efficient method of human speech, would be one of -those decisions of ignorant arrogance which it costs no labor and needs -no intellect to pronounce. - -Is not the man who well and truthfully speaks his own thoughts, as -Shakspeare and Bacon wrote, in some sense their peer? Is not the mere -reciter of their words, but their shadow? - -It is said of Plato, that he poured forth the flood of his eloquence as -by inspiration, and that, had the Father of the gods spoken in Greek, he -would have used none other language than Plato’s; and yet this master of -language takes pains, in reporting the apology of Socrates on trial for -his life, to represent him as saying that it would not become him to -speak “studied terms and expressions, but only the truth expressed in -the plainest language.” I quote the words of Socrates as given by Plato: - -“Among the false statements which my accusers made, there was one at -which I especially marveled, namely when they warned you to take care -not to be led astray by me, inasmuch as I was a powerful speaker. It did -appear to me supremely audacious in them to make such an assertion, -Which must immediately afterwards be disproved by the fact; for you will -see that I have no skill in speaking, unless they call a man a powerful -speaker because he says what is true. If they mean this, I certainly -must allow that I am a speaker of a very different kind from them; for -they, as I have said, have not spoken a word of truth; from me you shall -hear the whole truth; and that not clothed in ornate sentences with -studied terms and expressions; you will have from me plain facts -expressed in the plainest language. Indeed, Athenians, it would ill -become me at my age to come before you with a studied discourse like a -boy. And there is one thing, O Athenians, which I must beg and entreat -of you: if I use, in my defense, the same terms which I have been -accustomed to use in the market-place and in the shops where most of you -have heard me talking, do not wonder at that, nor take offence. For this -is the fact, I now enter a court of justice for the first time, though I -am more than seventy years old; I am, therefore, altogether strange to -the kind of language used here; and therefore excuse me, as if I really -were a stranger, if I speak to you in that tone and in that manner in -which I have been brought up. I ask you a thing which is, I think, -reasonable, that you take no account of the manner of my address to -you—it might be better, it might be worse, perhaps—but to consider this, -to attend to this, whether I say what is right or not, for that is the -virtue of the judge, as to speak truly is the virtue of the advocate.” - -No matter if the speech be not clothed in ornate sentences with studied -terms, it is the virtue of the judge to consider whether the speech is -right, as to speak truly is the virtue of the advocate. - -It is only, it seems to me, when men speak wisely, truly and naturally, -that the full significance of Quintillian’s words can be realized: “May -I perish, if the all-powerful Creator of nature and the Architect of -this world has impressed man with any character which so eminently -distinguishes him as the faculty of speech.” Let him who would use this -faculty effectively, and attain to that great power which rules the -minds of men, and moves the passions and affections of the soul, see to -it, that he speaks what he knows and believes, plainly and directly from -the heart to the heart. - - Very truly your friend, - JOHN A. BINGHAM. - - - - - PART I. - GENERAL PREPARATION. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - THE WRITTEN AND EXTEMPORE DISCOURSE COMPARED. - - -The special object of the following pages is to show the manner and -requirements of extempore preaching. But as this differs from other -methods of speech in its objects rather than in its external qualities, -many of the thoughts we present will apply as well to the bar and forum -as to the sacred desk. - -There is need that this subject should be enforced, particularly on the -ministry. A growing desire is manifested to give up plain, direct -speech, and indulge in the ease and certainty of written sermons. Young -men find themselves in places where it requires unwearied exertion to -sustain their reputation, and satisfy the demands of a cultivated -audience. They begin to fear that their spoken sermons may be deficient -in polish and style, and at last they write. The people nearly always -protest against the innovation, but to no purpose, for having convinced -himself that he is right, the minister treats their murmurs as the -effect of vulgar prejudice, and as a frequent result, his usefulness is -permanently impaired. - -This evil cannot be diminished by denouncing those who engage in it, for -the supposed necessity they labor under is stronger than any other -consideration. But it may be lessened by showing that there is a better -way, and making it plain. Such will be our endeavor. - -The two extremes of speech are, the discourse which is written and read -verbatim, and that in which both words and thoughts are left to the -impulse of the moment. Between these there are many intermediate grades. -The latter may be excluded from the classification altogether, for no -wise man will adopt it except in some unforeseen emergency. True -extemporization relates to the words alone, and leaves full room for the -complete preparation of thought. Between this and the manuscript -discourse there are various compromises which seek to combine the -advantages of both. These, for the sake of convenience, may be called -the recited, composite, premeditated and sketched discourses. - -It is useless to deny that the method of writing in full and reading, -possesses many and great advantages. It secures time for the -consideration of every thought. If the mind fags, the writer can pause -until it is rested and begin again; and in this way all the ideas and -expressions that occur for several days can be concentrated into one -sermon. Then it can be revised, and the language improved to an -indefinite extent, and the sermon, in its completeness, laid away for -future use. - -But there are great disadvantages. Such a sermon may, by solidity of -thought, and brilliancy of expression, command approval, but it will -seldom move and sway the people. The very idea that all has been written -out, and is merely read, will tend powerfully to neutralize its effects. -We may remonstrate against this if we will, and declare that our sermons -should be judged by their substance, but this does not abate the -preference of our auditors. They will retort, with truth, that they can -read even better sermons at home, and dwell on them at their leisure. -What they want in preaching is the living sympathy and guidance of the -preacher; his soul burning and glowing, and thus lighting up other -souls; his eye beaming on theirs; his clear, far-seeing mind, excited by -the magnetism of truth, and appealing to their hearts with an -earnestness that will take no denial. This fills the popular ideal of -preaching, and no elaboration, no word music will atone for the want of -it. Men of great genius may succeed otherwise, but the mass of speakers -cannot. - -The plan of memorizing and reciting sermons would seem, upon a -superficial view, to secure the advantages of reading without its -defects. But another and formidable class of disadvantages come into -being. Very few men can declaim well. For one who can speak from memory -with ease and naturalness, twenty can pour forth their ideas in the -words of the moment with energy and effect. A few have mastered the -difficult art, and won enduring laurels in this way, but their number is -too small to encourage others to imitation. - -This practice also imposes a heavy burden on the mind. To write and -commit two or three sermons in a week, is a task that only those who are -strong in mental and physical health can perform with impunity, and even -then it requires too much time; for no matter how perfect a minister’s -sermons may be, unless he fulfills other duties, he cannot be wholly -successful. Most preachers who memorize, inevitably neglect pastoral -work because they have not time for it. And another effect follows that -is, if possible, still worse. Instead of growing daily in knowledge by -diligent study, the mind is kept on the tread-wheel task of writing and -committing sermons, and thus permanently dwarfed. A young man may take a -higher rank at first by memorizing, than otherwise, but he will not -retain it long, for the knowledge others accumulate while he is conning -his discourses, will soon place them above him. - -The practice of committing brilliant passages to be recited with the -eyes withdrawn from the paper, or thrown into the current of -unpremeditated discourse, we have termed the composite manner. It is -open to all the objections urged against the last method, and a most -formidable one in addition—the difficulty of making these sudden flashes -fit into their proper places, and of preventing them from destroying the -unity of the whole discourse. They differ so widely from the rest of the -composition, that the audience are apt to see the artifice and despise -it. A skillful man may join them properly, but even then his own -attention, and that of the audience will, probably, be so closely fixed -upon them that the main design of the sermon will pass out of sight. - -These three varieties are much alike, and may be called branches of the -word-preparation method. In them, words are carefully chosen, and form -the groundwork of discourse. The next three are based on thought. - -The premeditated discourse comes nearest to the word method. It was the -medium of the wonderful eloquence of the late Bishop Bascom. In it the -ideas are first arranged, and then each thought pondered until it -resolves itself into words, which are mostly recalled in the moment of -speech. Men who speak thus usually have great command of language and -much fixity of impression. Those who receive ideas readily, and lose -them again as easily, could not adopt this method, for words previously -arranged could not be recalled in the same order, unless they had been -fixed by the pen. There is little objection to this mode of preparation -in the case of those who are adapted to it, provided they do not carry -it so far as to feel burdened or confused. No words should be left in -charge of the memory, and no conscious effort made to recall particular -expressions. - -Stevens, in his admirable book called “Preaching Required by the Times,” -advises ministers, when revolving and arranging their ideas, not to let -them run into words. We can see no ill effect in this, provided the -result is a natural one. All the words must be retained easily in the -memory, and not sought for if they do not spontaneously present -themselves in the act of speech. President Lincoln, who was a most -effective off-hand speaker, said, that he owed his skill in this art to -the early practice of reducing every thought he entertained to the -plainest and simplest words. Then when he desired to enunciate an idea -he had no difficulty in giving it a form that even a child could -understand. - -The sketched discourse approaches very closely to the purely extempore -method, and only differs from it in writing the whole matter in full, -with no care for style, simply to practice in the art of expression, and -to test our mastery of the plan arranged. In it there is no intention of -memorizing, or of using the same words again, except so far as the ideas -in their simplest form may suggest them. This is only doing on paper -what, in the last method, was done mentally. It may be of great -advantage to those who have had but a limited experience, and cannot so -clearly grasp their ideas in the domain of pure thought as to be sure -that they are fully adapted to the purposes of their sermons. - -But at the slow rate of writing in the common hand, this requires too -much time. If a person have mastered Phonography, or Tachygraphy, a -valuable improvement of the former, more easily acquired and retained in -practice, he may write a sermon in little more than the time it will -take to preach it, if he only work at full speed and do not stay for the -niceties of style. Then the defects in the arrangement or material, that -before escaped his attention, will be brought to light. We can judge a -sermon more impartially when it is placed outside of the mind, than if -it were only mentally reviewed, and we still have time to correct -whatever may be amiss. - -But the great method of which the two former are mere branches, and -which in fact underlies every other, is that of pure extemporization. In -this there is a firm, compact road of previously prepared thought -leading directly to the object aimed at. When thus speaking, we always -feel on solid ground, and each moment have the proper, selected idea, -seeking expression, and clothing itself in the needed words. All men -talk thus, and we cannot but regard it as the highest form of oratory. -When we have obtained complete mastery of expression, and the ability to -so arrange facts and ideas, that at the fitting moment they will resolve -themselves into words, the high problem of eloquence is in a great -measure solved. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - PREREQUISITES—INTELLECTUAL COMPETENCY—STRENGTH OF BODY—COMMAND OF - LANGUAGE—COURAGE—FIRMNESS. - - -Almost every speaker has at some time longed to obtain the golden power -of eloquence. It always insures to its fortunate possessor a strong -influence in the affairs of men. It is needed in the promotion of every -reform, and is the only means by which the minds of a community can be -at once moved in a new direction. When employed in the service of error -and injustice it is like a fallen archangel’s power for evil. But its -highest and purest sphere is in the promulgation of revealed truth. It -there brings the word of God into living contact with the souls of men, -and by it molds them into a higher life. It is sublime to be a co-worker -with God, and thus assist him in peopling heaven. - -Only the method of eloquence can be taught. Its refined and ethereal -substance lies beyond the reach of all art. No preacher can be truly -eloquent without the baptism of the Holy Spirit, and even the excited -passion and burning enthusiasm which are the human sources of this -quality, can be acquired by no formularies. But they may be developed -and properly directed where a capability for them exists. In this -respect there is the widest difference of talent. Some men never can -attain the wondrous power of swaying their fellow-beings. Others are -born orators. The latter class is small, and it is never safe to -conclude that we belong to it until the fact has been incontestably -proved. Neither is the class of incapables very large. The great mass of -men lie between the extremes. Their talents do not make them great in -spite of themselves; but if they make the proper effort, and are favored -by circumstances, they may become effective, and even eloquent speakers. -To these it is of great importance to have the right road pointed out, -along which they may travel, and by earnest toil gain the desired end. -There is no “royal road” to eloquence, but here, as elsewhere, -application and study will produce their proper effects. Yet certain -prerequisites must be received from God himself, without which all -cultivation will be vain as the attempt to fertilize the sands of the -seashore. - -The first quality to which we will refer, is intellectual competency. By -this, we mean a strength of intellect that can grasp an idea, and form a -complete image of it; one who is not able to think out a subject in its -leading features, cannot speak on it, and if the deficiency be general, -he is unfitted to speak in public at all. We would not assert that none -but men of commanding intelligence can profitably address their -fellow-beings. It is not even necessary that the orator should be above -the average of mental power possessed by his audience. Franklin was -entranced by the preaching of Whitefield, though in grasp and compass of -mind almost infinitely his superior. A man of comparative dullness may, -by brooding over a particular subject, so master it, that the greatest -intellect will listen to him with reverence and profit. The great German -poet, Goethe, said that he met few men from whom he did not learn -something valuable. But no man ought to address the people unless he can -clearly comprehend the nature of his subject, mark out its limitations, -understand its relations to other subjects, and so arrange and simplify -it as to convey these ideas to his hearers. The Christian minister has -to deal with a great variety of topics, and requires mind enough to -grasp not one only, but many subjects. - -It is hard to determine just how much mental power is required to secure -a moderate degree of success as an orator. No precise rules can be given -on this point, and if they could, egotism would prevent each from -applying them to himself however correctly he might gauge his neighbor. -The presumptuous would do well to remember that oratory is the highest -of all arts, and to measure themselves with becoming humility; perhaps -the following questions may aid in self-examination. Can you grasp an -idea firmly? can you follow its ramifications, perceive its shades of -meaning, and render it familiar in all its bearings? Can you analyze it -clearly, so that each separate part will be understood by itself, and -then again link these together and make each serve as a stepping-stone -to the comprehension of that which follows? If you can do this with a -single subject, you have the mental power to speak on that subject; if -on all, or many of the subjects of the Christian religion, vast and -varied as they are, you can preach. No deficiency of intellectual power -or originality need dishearten you. - -The fact of the close and mutual influence of body and mind is beyond -dispute, although their connection is a subject of deep mystery. When we -see how much the faculties of reason and imagination—nay, even of hope, -love, and faith—are affected by bodily conditions, we can only exclaim -with the Psalmist, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Especially is -this mutual dependence forced upon the attention of the extempore -speaker. In every effort he feels the subtle effect of physical causes, -and often under the pressure of disease, strives in vain to realize the -grand but intangible thoughts that float through his brain. The body is -the instrument of the mind in its communication with the outward world, -and even if the most sublime and glorious conceptions existed within, -they would be powerless if the bodily organs were unequal to the task of -expressing them. - -A dumb man cannot be an orator, no matter how richly endowed; and all -other bodily defects will be felt as hindrances even if they fall short -of the deprivation of an organ of sense. The preacher needs to be a -completely developed man physically, as well as mentally, though he may -succeed in spite of many disadvantages. Feeble health will always -detract from his power. The mind may for a time rise superior to it, but -a crushing recoil will follow. This takes place when the ill-health is -not extreme; but when it fetters the ability of expression, and prevents -the manifestation of living power, the barrier is absolute. Many -ministers utterly fail, because they forget that eloquence is the -offspring of health; others, perhaps, still more unfortunate have -battled against disease and bodily infirmity for years, and yet have -been doomed to feel, amid their brightest aspirations, that a power -beyond their control was conquering them. It is terrible to sit -helpless, and see a cloud stealing over the brightness of genius, and -shading the whole future of life. Yet this has been the experience of -thousands. We remember an impressive illustration of this in the case of -one who possessed the richest endowments. He was almost unequaled as a -pulpit orator, yet, in the middle of life, saw his powers of usefulness -withdrawn, and his fame fading—only because his body could not bear the -strain he unwisely put upon it. - -In view of the many facts of this kind, it would be well for the man who -aspires to eminence in the fields of eloquence, to examine himself, and -see if he have the needed physical strength. With some the incapacity is -no doubt total. How many ministers have had their light turned into -darkness by a diseased throat, a cerebral affection, or a nervous -disorder? But the majority of men only need care and obedience to the -laws of life to bring their bodies up to the standard of efficiency. In -youth, at least, there is nothing so easily improved as health. By the -golden rule of temperance in all things—in voice and thought, as well as -food and drink—nearly all may render the body adequate to the -manifestation of mind. - -To an orator, the power of readily clothing his thoughts in words is -indispensable. Language is the dress of ideas—the means by which they -are communicated to others. The thoughts that arise in our minds resolve -themselves into words as naturally as the clouds do into falling -showers. We use words to some degree in our most secret meditations, and -whenever the latter become clear and well defined they fall into -language without conscious effort. To cause them to do this with -precision and certainty is one of the problems of extempore speech. The -thought is prepared in advance, but is to be coined into words at the -moment. If the faculty of language is weak this cannot be done without -such hesitation and embarrassment as greatly to diminish the effect; but -if strong, a tide of words will be poured forth without apparent effort. -Even in common conversation, a wide difference in point of fluency may -be observed. In fact, it was this which gave Gall the first hint that -led to the establishment of Phrenology. - -No doubt this faculty may be greatly cultivated and improved, but when -its original strength is very small, it can not, probably, be made -available for ready and powerful speech. There are persons whose voices -seem to have no defect, who cannot learn to sing; others, with eyes -perfectly organized, are unable to distinguish between colors. The power -of language may be equally deficient in an otherwise well-constituted -mind. We once knew a man who could not find the words necessary to make -the most common statement without long and embarrassed pauses. He forgot -the names of his nearest neighbors; and, when telling a story, required -perpetual prompting wherever names occurred, and would often hesitate -until some every-day term was suggested to him. No cultivation would -have made him a speaker. He had as much education as his neighbors -around, and was not remarkably dull. He was simply an almost wordless -man. Many persons suffer in the same manner, though but few to the same -degree. - -But the mere fact that a man is slow of speech is no bar even to the -highest eminence as an orator. The proper test of the power of this -faculty is in common conversation. There one feels perfectly at ease, -and deals with matters he understands. If he have but a moderate share -of fluency, he will have no difficulty in conveying his ideas. But if he -does experience such difficulty, it shows a radical defect which art can -never remove. But we should not be discouraged if it is hard to find -appropriate words when speaking on unfamiliar subjects, for we cannot -have words to express ideas before possessing the ideas themselves! - -Those who are deficient in language, but have strong powers of thought, -are almost the only persons who really find relief in writing and -reading their sermons. If they have time to wait, the right word may -come to them, or they can search through dictionaries for it; but in the -hurry of speech there is no such leisure for selection. They have some -excuse for writing, though it will still be questionable whether it -would not be better for them to dash ahead with the loss of some -precision, or if this cannot be done, abandon altogether a profession -for which they are so obviously unfitted. - -A man must have a degree of courage to place himself within reach of any -danger, and remain there. If he be destitute of it, he will resign the -hope of victory rather than encounter the perils by which it may be won. -It is needed in extempore speaking as well as in any species of physical -danger, for the perils to be encountered are not less terrible. To some -sensitive minds these even amount to a species of martyrdom. They go to -the desk trembling in every limb, and would feel wonderfully relieved if -they could exchange their position for the tented field, where the -warfare would be of the body only, and not of the spirit. Some of the -greatest orators have never been able to entirely overcome this feeling, -although they may have been free from the fear of failure. - -But it is difficult to be perfectly assured even against failure. “There -is nothing so fitful as eloquence,” says the Abbe Bautain, who was well -qualified to judge. The practiced and prepared orator does not often -dread losing command of words altogether, and being obliged to close -before the proper time, but fears that his rich and glowing conceptions -may fade, and his high ideal be unattained. - -Mere boldness does not suffice to protect a speaker from these dangers. -Of what avail is a man’s courage if his brain be clouded and his tongue -paralyzed? He cannot brave the consequences, for the power of ridicule -is too keen for any armor—at least when it comes in such a concentrated -volume as falls on the head of the unfortunate speaker who can not -finish what he has begun. At such a time the boaster’s fate is worst of -all; for, while others are pitied, he is crushed beneath the scorn and -triumph of his audience. There is no positive guard against failure. -Public speaking is a modern battle, in which the most skillful warrior -may be stricken down by a random bullet—the bravest slain by a coward! - -What then is the benefit of courage? We have placed it in the list of -essential qualities, and believe the orator cannot succeed without it. -It does not operate by rendering failure impossible, or even materially -reducing the risk, but by enabling us to endure all danger and press on. -Bonaparte said that most generals failed in one point—they delayed to -attack when it became necessary to fight a great battle. The issue was -so uncertain—so far beyond the reach of human wisdom—that they hesitated -and deliberated until the favorable moment had passed forever. In war -this timid policy courts destruction, by permitting the adversary to -choose his own time to strike. The same principle governs in other -affairs. The risk must be taken. A man of courage derives new lessons -from his failures, and makes them the introduction to future triumphs. -Especially in the field of oratory is there no possibility of success, -if this indomitable, persevering spirit be wanting. Many persons of -excellent talents have been condemned to perpetual silence, because they -would not endure the perils of speech. Men who have instructed the world -by their pens, and in the privacy of the social circle have charmed -their friends by the magic of their conversation, have never spoken in -public because they shrunk from the inevitable hazard. There is no -difficulty in determining whether we possess this quality or not. Let -the trial be made, and if we do not abandon our posts and incur disgrace -rather than speak, we have all the boldness that is needed. - -The quality of firmness in oratory is sometimes undervalued. While -steady, persevering industry, working toward a definite end, is known to -be essential in everything else, in this field genius is often supposed -to be sufficient. There never was a greater mistake. Nature does lay the -foundation broad and deep for some men, but they must build diligently -upon it to make their gifts availing. The way to eminence, even for the -favored few, is long and hard, requiring deep thought and earnest -striving, and without a strong purpose fixed in the very beginning, and -firmly adhered to through years of labor, there is slight chance of -success. A few persons have risen to eminence without appearing to pay -the price for it, but such exceptions are more apparent than real. There -are times of great excitement, when some one before unknown is able to -speak so as to fix the eyes of the nation upon himself, but unless he -has been previously prepared, and continues to put forth resolute -effort, his success is but transitory. - -The career of Patrick Henry is adduced as an instance of success without -labor. He had little education in the schools, but learned much from -Nature herself. His observation was tireless. It is said, that when he -kept a country store, he would sit and question his customers by the -hour, causing them to display their various dispositions. He was thus -learning to play upon the human heart, and as this was only one -manifestation of a ruling passion, it doubtless took a hundred other -forms. When on those long hunting excursions in the beautiful valley of -Virginia, how many deep and ineffaceable impressions must have been made -on his mind. He had a peerless genius, yet all we can learn of him leads -us to believe that he cultivated it to the utmost, at least as applied -to oratory. - -The familiar examples of Demosthenes and Cicero are not solitary ones. -All who have acquired the power of effective speech have toiled long and -patiently. The poor, weak waverer can never be an orator in the highest -sense of the term, however he may, on special occasions, flash into -momentary brilliancy. And as the minister of the Gospel must cultivate -the most difficult field of eloquence, we advise no one to attempt -preaching who is not conscious of a strong, unchangeable purpose—a -purpose that will bear delay, discouragement and weary waiting. - -Of course, the nature of all the results obtained through our firmness -will depend on the direction of our efforts. If personal ambition, or -pecuniary profit be the object toward which we bend our energies, the -grand and holy character of the Christian ministry will be lost sight -of. But let our aim be unselfish, and our success will be pure and -noble. - -To him who has a mind to conceive, a body with strength to execute, -language to coin the mass of thoughts into words, courage to bear the -scrutiny of a thousand eyes, and firmness that will endure the toil of -preparation—to him the upward pathway is clear. He may not win great -fame, but he will be able to present the truth in its native beauty, and -make his words fall with weight and power on the hearts of men. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - BASIS OF SPEECH—THOUGHT AND EMOTION—HEART CULTIVATION. - - -Thought and emotion are two prime elements in the manifestations of -mind. All the products of mental action, unless it be the mysterious -power of will, are divided between them, and by them, through various -means of expression, we reach and influence the outward world. - -Thought springs from the intellect, and acts upon the facts received -from every source, retaining, arranging and modifying them at will. -Feeling is the mind’s response to all these, and comprises fear, love, -hope, faith, hatred and all the sentiments and emotions that are -described under the general name of “the heart.” Speech is founded on -these two elements, which meet and mingle in every human production, -though seldom in the same proportion. The speaker who has greatest -mastery of one, is often most deficient in the other. But if so, the -whole range of eloquence is not open to him. He is only a half-developed -orator, and his usefulness will be very much narrowed. - -A man of deep thought but sluggish emotion, may enchain the attention of -an assembly by the novel and far-reaching views he presents and the -ability with which he unfolds them, but the whole discourse will be dull -and lifeless. He will find it very difficult to move his hearers to -action. They may assent to every word he utters, and yet continue in -their own course. Every minister’s experience furnishes proof that it is -not enough to convince, or it would be very easy to convert the world. -At times it is right to use the sword of intellect alone. In -controversy, for example, a solid basis of reasoning must be laid before -anything else can be done. But it is not always enough. Men are led as -often by their sentiments and intuitions as by their judgments, and we -are allowed to use all lawful means to win them. Even the pure light of -truth is not always to be discovered through the intellect alone. A mere -feeling of what is right, or just, or true, often leads, in an instant, -to a conviction that all subsequent reasoning can only strengthen. The -ideal orator, therefore, is one who, even in argument, can show the -truth, and then, by a flash of heavenly sympathy, change our cold assent -into fervent conviction. - -On the other hand, a man of predominant feeling may make us weep, but as -we see no reason for it, we resist the emotion to the extent of our -power. If we yield, a reaction follows, and we go away ashamed of what -we cannot justify. Of this class were some of the early Methodist -preachers—the weeping prophets, as they were termed. Their tears, and -the feeling with which they spoke, were often irresistible, and by the -mere force of sympathy, men who had very little intellectual power were -able to sway the passions of an audience at will. But had it not been -for some of their brethren, who were men of thought as well as -emotion—men who had clear heads to organize and combine, as well as -tears to shed, the effect of their labor would have been evanescent as -the emotions they excited. - -Continuity is a highly important quality of thought. All men think; they -cannot help it, for the mind is ever active. But with most these -thoughts are but random flashes—illuminated pictures—that arise for a -moment, and then vanish to give place to others. Powerful thinking -consists in holding these scattered images together in a chain, and -making them run uninterruptedly from one point to another. There is no -man who does not at times catch glimpses of far-reaching, profound -thoughts; but before he can combine them into harmony and place them in -their proper relation to other thoughts, they disappear, and he may -search long before he will find them again. All persons see the beauties -of natural scenery, but it is only the poet who can reproduce the -scattered elements and combine them into a harmonious description. Only -the true thinker can gather the fragments of thought that flash through -the mind, and give them form and consistency. This power is -indispensable to the speaker. He must give, not a mere gallery of -pictures, however beautiful they may be, but a succession of thoughts, -naturally connected, by which the mind advances step by step through the -discourse, without jar or interruption. We will endeavor to give some -directions for the acquisition of this power, as far as may be necessary -in extempore speaking. The capability of thought must indeed be -possessed or all cultivation will be vain; but if the mind have any -native vigor, it can learn to think consecutively and methodically, even -as the unskilled but perfectly organized hand may be taught to carve -beautiful and complicated forms. - -As a general rule, men can be more easily moved by appeals made to their -feelings than to their reason, and find the most masterly dissertation -cold and lifeless unless relieved by some touches of humanity and -passion. A man who does not possess true feeling cannot so counterfeit -it as to reach the hearts of others, but he may, in a great measure, -transform his own nature and acquire it. The most essential -qualification for a religious teacher is a deep personal religious -experience. One who has never passed through the mystic, mingled sorrow -and joy of penitence and the agony of remorse—has never watched with -straining eyes for the dawning light of salvation, and at last been -enabled to say, “Abba, Father!” such a one cannot preach the gospel with -power and success. His speech may glitter with all the flowers of -rhetoric and the form of words be complete, but the vast power of the -earnest soul sympathizing with all the lips utter, will be absent. -Without genuine experience, our preaching will be apt to fall into that -loose generalization which can do no good. For it is only when we plant -our feet on living realities—those we have tested and know to be sure, -and deal in particular, specified facts, that we are able to pierce -through all the folds of ignorance and self-love, and awaken an echo of -the conscience within. - -As a mere form of knowledge, the experience of God’s dealings with the -awakened soul is more valuable than any other lore. But its great -advantage to the preacher is not the increase of knowledge. It produces -a tide of emotion that can never sleep until the judgment day. It -connects the Cross and the divine Sufferer with cords of living sympathy -that always thrill to the very centre of our being. Conversion -invariably deepens and intensifies the emotions of our nature; and if -the speaker has passed through a strongly marked change he will have the -power of imparting his impressions to others, and of giving to his -descriptions the inimitable charm of reality. If his religious -experience accords with the Bible, he can speak from his own heart with -almost irresistible force. This was the secret of the power wielded by -Luther, Wesley, Whitefield and others who have shaken the world. Thus -prepared, John Bunyan wrote the most wonderful book of any age—recorded -the world’s experience in religion, and made the cold, dead realms of -allegory flash with life. He laid the spell of his genius on all alike, -and the child prattles of the burdened pilgrim with the giants in his -way, while the old man is cheered by the light that streams down from -the high hill on which the city is built. The reason of his power is -simply that he wrote his own spiritual experience in the language of -truth. He had stood at the bar of Vanity Fair, had fought with the -fiends, and groped his way through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. -From the depths of his own heart, torn by internal conflict, or healed -and made happy by a heavenly anointing, he drew the images that glow -with all the color of life in his marvelous book. - -Love is the mightiest of all forces, and Jesus was revealed to draw unto -himself the love of the universe. Let the minister learn of him, and he -will be able to speak as he never spoke before. He will strike the -key-note of that song whose solemn music has rolled down through the -centuries, and will wax louder and clearer until time shall be no more. - -The story of the Cross, with all that depends upon it, forms principal -part of the Christian orator’s theme. But he has other duties. His work -is broad as human life. He stands by the bed of sickness; he weeps with -the mourners when the last flutter of life is stilled, and strives to -lift their eyes to the victor over death; he warns the impenitent of -coming woe. It is his to deal with the highest and holiest emotions of -the heart. And how can he touch these delicate chords gently, but -firmly—not shrinking from the infliction of necessary pain, yet never -causing a tear to flow “in the mere wantonness of grief”—unless he has -passed through sorrow’s deep waters? He must have unfeigned sympathy for -all, and be able to express it plainly and tenderly. - -This power, both of feeling and expression, may be greatly increased by -exercise. If the preacher will enter the abodes of rich and poor alike, -and take a friendly interest in their hopes and fears, their joys and -sorrows, he will find his heart drawn out toward them, and when he -addresses them in public, it will be with far more intense anxiety for -their good than if they were strangers. It will be comparatively easy -for him to throw his heart into all he says. - -There are two methods of cultivating genuine emotion that we would -cordially recommend to all desirous of swaying the hearts of the people. -The first is prayer. We need not enlarge on its general benefits, but -will notice its effect on sacred oratory. The man who often addresses -God in prayer is in the very best school of eloquence. It brings us -close to Him, and in the awful light of His purity, we more clearly see -anything that is bad in our hearts and strive to cast it out. As we pray -for others, and spread their needs before him, we cannot fail to be -inspired with a stronger desire for their welfare. Then, too, religion -becomes something more than a mere form of words, and our hearts burn -with a stronger flame. We speak now of prayer as it should be—a warm, -pure, fervent outpouring of the heart to God. This is more difficult in -the public congregation, for then many disturbing elements are brought -to bear on the person praying. The listening people are apt to be in the -preacher’s thoughts, and prevent him from enjoying simple and direct -communion with heaven. It is the prayer “when none but God is nigh,” -that will stir his heart to its profoundest depths and put his mind in -the right frame for delivering his sermons. Let any one pray earnestly -for help from above all the time his sermons are in course of -preparation, and he will be surprised to find how much of the coldness -and deadness supposed to belong to this species of composition will be -swept away, and how beautifully over all will be spread the vivid charm -of real experience. Yet we must not restrict our prayers to this time, -for God may not meet us in loving friendship if we only approach him -when we have a favor to ask. To reap the full benefit of prayer, it -should be a habit woven into our life, and continued on every occasion. -This will rebuke sinful ambition and moderate that sensitiveness which -has reference to the opinions of our fellow-beings. Thus armed, the -preacher will come as the messenger of God, rather than the caterer to -men’s fancies. And from the mere operation of natural causes, he will -speak with a boldness and earnestness that will draw the hearts of men -as the magnet does the steel. - -But prayer is far more than the means of cultivating emotion. There is a -direct influence that comes from God to man. The power of the Holy -Spirit is no fable. A heavenly anointing is sent down—an unction that -gives sweetness and power even to the most commonplace words. It is not -bestowed unasked, for God desires that we should feel the need of His -high gifts before they are granted. But when humbly implored, there is -often breathed an influence from above, mighty to sustain the faithful -minister in his task. What an encouraging but awful thought! God himself -stands by us in the time of our weakness and gives us His strength. If -the minister would always go to the pulpit with this assurance, he would -not fear the mass of upturned faces, but calmly view them with a heart -stayed on the Master whose work he has to do. - -The Spirit’s presence will not in the least absolve us from the need of -complete preparation. In nothing is it more true that God helps those -who help themselves. All that we contend for is such an influence as -will cause the words uttered to penetrate the souls of those for whom -they were spoken, remove the fear of man from the preacher’s heart, and -make him bold in speaking the truth. It may be that clearer knowledge -will be given, and the most fitting selection of words suggested, but -this can only be hoped for after all preparation is made. God does not -duplicate his work, and that which he gives man faculties to discover, -he will not afterward bring to him by an express revelation. - -The second method of imparting unction and feeling to the coldness of -thought, is by meditating on the great truths and promises of -Christianity. This subject is well treated in Baxter’s “Saint’s Rest,” -though not with reference to the wants of the orator. The power of -long-continued and earnest meditation varies in different persons, but -all can acquire it to some degree. It may be defined as a method of -transporting ones-self from a sense of the present reality to an ideal -situation—reaching and experiencing the feelings that would naturally -arise in that situation. Thus we may experience some of the pleasures of -heaven and the society of the blest. We may walk the plains of Galilee -with the Lord and behold his wondrous love there manifested, almost as -if we mingled with the throng who hung on his gracious words; we may -turn to the time of our own conversion, and recall the passage from -despair to conscious life; or look forward to the day of our death, and -think of its mingled sorrow and triumph. It is a kind of waking dream by -which the mind is filled with one idea to the exclusion of all others. -And when we select some high object of contemplation and return often to -it, we acquire a susceptibility of strong and fervent emotion on that -subject which it requires only a word to arouse. An illustration of this -is often found in the case of an inventor or discoverer who has dwelt on -one subject until his whole mind is filled with it, and he cannot hear -it mentioned without the deepest feeling. However cold and listless he -may be on other subjects, touch but the sacred one of his fancy, and his -sparkling eye and animated voice tell how deeply you have roused the -whole man. What an advantage it must be to the extempore speaker, with -whom everything depends on feeling, to have all the cardinal facts he -proclaims surrounded by fountains of holy emotion, continually supplied -from the spring of meditation, and ready to flow copiously at the -slightest touch! Such trains of thought may be carried on in moments too -often given to idleness, and thus, not only will a mighty power be added -to our pulpit ministrations, but our whole life ennobled and enriched. -It has been conjectured that Milton’s mind, while composing “Paradise -Lost,” existed in the state of a sublime waking dream, in which the -forms of heaven and hell, chaos and creation, all mingled in one -glorious vision. Something of this nature, though not necessarily -continuous, must take place in the mental history of every true and -powerful Christian minister. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - ACQUIREMENTS.—KNOWLEDGE, GENERAL—OF BIBLE, OF THEOLOGY, OF MEN. - - -Thought is the workman of the mind, and requires materials upon which to -labor. We are such creatures of experience that we cannot go far beyond -a foundation of fact, or weave long trains of pure imagination. In the -wildest fiction the mind can only combine and rearrange what was -previously known. This necessity rests with added weight upon the -preacher. He cannot invent his materials in the sense the poet can, but -must confine himself to the statement of unadulterated truth. -Fortunately, he has no narrow field to explore, for all knowledge is -related to his themes. He has to speak of God, by whom everything -exists, and whose glory shines through all the works of his hand. The -truths he utters apply to the whole circle of life and its duties, yet -are so familiar and so often neglected, that he needs all his power to -make them touch the popular heart. There is no science that may not at -times be made available for illustrating or enforcing the word of God. - -The want of extended knowledge will be more severely felt by an -extempore preacher, than by one who reads or recites. The latter has -time for selection, and may take the parts of a subject with which he is -familiar and pass over all others. But the former will find this very -dangerous. Extemporizing should be free and unfettered. The speaker must -be able to see his own way, and make it clear to his hearers. If he is -always anxious to avoid dangerous obstructions and steer around them, he -will lose that free flow of ideas in which much of the beauty of -unstudied speech consists. Let the man, therefore, who looks to the -preacher’s vocation, lay the foundation broad and deep in a complete -education, not only in that of the schools, for the knowledge they teach -is very defective, but let him know all the facts that hinge on common -life; the processes of the different pursuits and trades; the subjects -that most occupy the human mind; the arts and sciences in their wide -departments. We have no hesitation in affirming that preaching ought to -be more scientific than it often is; that is, when the preacher deals -with the phenomena of nature, he should speak of them in their true -form, as revealed by science, and not indulge in loose generalities or -popular misstatements. If he master these and all other branches of -knowledge, he will have at hand a fund of illustration that will never -grow old, and instead of being under the necessity of turning over books -of sermons, and hunting out figures of speech that have done duty for -generations, he will be supplied from nature’s great volume with those -that are ever fresh and new. They will be redolent of the morning dew, -the sparkle of sunlight, the life of humanity, rather than the must of -books. - -This knowledge constitutes only the rough material of thought. It is the -dust out of which the body is to be formed, and into which the breath of -life is to be breathed. The power of thinking comes from no accumulated -intellectual stores, but springs from the living energy of the soul -within. It is above all dead brute force, and fills a world of its own. -But we would lay the foundation of success in oratory by giving the mind -food, and providing for it a general acquaintance with the universe. -This may be superficial, for it is not given to man to be profound in -everything, but it will suffice to keep the preacher within the bounds -of truth, when, for a time, he leaves his own province. - -But within that province, and on all topics he undertakes to discuss, -his knowledge should not be superficial. He must here hold out no false -light to lure mankind, but must speak because he knows the truth, and -feels that others ought to know it. He will then speak—and in his own -department he has the right to speak—“not as the Scribes and Pharisees, -but as one having authority.” - -To this end the preacher must study the Bible most thoroughly. It is the -book from which he obtains his subjects, and the most powerful arguments -by which they are enforced. He must meditate on it by day and night with -earnest, loving zeal. There is not much profit in merely reading it -through once or twice a year. Read it prayerfully. Study the sense. -Strive to make it a living book. Realize the scenes it describes, the -events it records, and the deep mysteries it unfolds. There is no study -that will increase oratorical power more rapidly than the investigation -of the Holy Scriptures. They are the best models of eloquence, the -exhaustless armory from which the preacher draws his weapons. To be -“mighty in the Scriptures” is one of the highest recommendations he can -have; and, on the other hand, ignorance of the book it will be his life -labor to expound, is unpardonable, and will expose him to merited -contempt. - -Many books will be needed in forming a critical, living comprehension of -the Bible. The student should become familiar with the present aspect of -Palestine and the manners and customs of former ages. Judicious -commentaries will help him to penetrate through the covering which -thoughtlessness and familiarity have woven over the sacred page, down to -its vital meaning. Ancient history and Bible dictionaries will make -plain many obscure passages. But above all, the Holy Spirit throws a -flood of light over the whole book, and makes its dark places shine with -the radiance of truth. Get this first, in a living baptism, and all else -will be easy. - -A knowledge of Theology is essential. It comes not with the same -authority as the Word, for it is only man’s interpretation of what God -has revealed, and no one has a right to bind others by the rule of his -own weak judgment. Yet we cannot despise assistance even here. He would -be very foolish who would insist on ignoring the light of science and -the accumulated lore of ages, that he might discover all truth for -himself. Life is so short and man’s intellect so slow, that an -individual standing alone would never get beyond the state of a savage. -We can weigh the evidence of truth in an hour that has taken years or -ages to discover. There is no way but to accept the aid of others even -in the matters that relate to God and our own souls, and use it to build -up a complete system of knowledge, being careful not to surrender our -independence of thought, nor do violence to our conscience. - -The knowledge of what men have thought and done in the field of -revelation is indispensable. Without some degree of it no man is -prepared for the sacred office. It need not all be attained before -beginning to preach, but should be a constant aim. The preacher should -always be a diligent student. He will never reach the end. Even when his -head is whitening for the grave he will find the book of God an -unexhausted mine, and the interest of newly-discovered truth will impart -such charm and vigor to his discourses that they will never grow old. -Theology is a vast science, embracing all others—an infinite field where -man may exert all his powers, and never cease for want of new realms to -explore. - -The preacher labors in the field of humanity, and aims to better the -present and future condition of mankind. He needs to understand his -ground, as well as the instruments of his labor. It is through him that -divine truth reaches the hearts of the multitude. Unless he can cause -the people to think new thoughts, and be ruled by new motives, wisdom -and learning and brilliancy are all in vain. A knowledge of the heart, -and of the best methods of reaching it, are of first importance. No -matter if the preacher speaks a truth; unless that particular truth has -an adaptation to the present wants of those whom he addresses, it will -be, in a great measure, unfruitful. The love of God, the story of the -Cross, with many other things revealed in the Bible, are suited to all -ages and all men. But the consolations intended for a time of sorrow -would fall strangely on the ear of a bridal party. Exhortations to -repentance would be lost upon a congregation of sincere Christians. -Different shades of experience need to be met by appropriate -instruction; and the minister who does not watch all changing -circumstances, and carefully adapt his words to them, will fail of the -highest usefulness. It may be objected that, in large assemblies, the -presentation of any truth will benefit some person, and that all cannot -be reached at once. This is partly true; but the attentive minister will -find currents of thought moving in his congregation from day to day, and -will be surprised to see how often the people are thinking about the -same objects. At one time, the minds of many will be tinged with -unbelief; at another, spiritualism will have its votaries; and again, -genuine, earnest searching for the truth will be apparent. He, who so -thoroughly knows the heart that he can detect the signs of these -changes, has the advantage possessed by a general who is acquainted with -all the plans of his antagonist. A close observer once said that a -certain minister would never be a revivalist, because he did not seem to -understand the movements of the Spirit. There was truth in his judgment, -although the deficiency was rather in understanding human nature. That -preacher who can look over his congregation as he speaks, and discern -something of the state of their hearts, can strike directly to the mark, -while the strength of another might be wasted. - -A general knowledge of the motives by which men are governed will also -be of service. We must employ proper arguments when we seek to influence -our hearers, for truth may be so presented as to repel rather than -attract. We should know how to appeal to self-interest, for most follow -what they believe to be its dictates. We should be able to excite their -love and sympathy; in short, we ought to ascertain what motive is -powerful enough to move them, and employ it. This quick and accurate -knowledge of the heart is especially valuable to the man who preaches -without notes. Looking into the eyes of the congregation, he will see -their passing thoughts and emotions often indicated with great -precision. He will thus know when it is best to dwell on any particular -argument, and can press it home, or leave it, before the audience is -wearied. He will, all the time, have the advantage of seeing his way -distinctly, instead of stumbling along like a blind man who is conscious -of no obstacle until brought into contact with it. To reap this profit, -he must be able to read the expressions and changes that the heart -throws over the countenance—visible signs of its own state. - -The proper way to obtain a practical knowledge of men is to mingle with -and study them. A preacher has great opportunities for this. He need not -fear to lower his dignity or impair his influence by a free and easy -intercourse with all classes. The people have acute perceptions, and -will give him credit for all that is good in him; and he has no right to -demand more. Indeed, if he have not native goodness and intelligence -enough to retain the confidence of his people in the closest social -intercourse, the sooner he relinquishes his office the better for all -concerned. It is no excuse to say that he cannot spare time from his -studies; for no labor will more surely bring a return of added power and -eloquence than the study of his flock around their own hearths. The best -books are only transcripts of the human heart, and here he can study the -original in all its freshness. - -But merely to mingle with the people will not fully cultivate this -critical knowledge of character, unless it is made a particular study. A -good way of doing this is to write down our first thoughts and -impressions of persons we come in contact with, and test our correctness -by subsequent experience. We thus discover the source of our errors, and -avoid them in future, and, at the same time, form a habit of observation -which, if continued for years, will increase the acuteness of our -perceptions until we are able to read men at the first glance. - -But most valuable of all means for attaining this power, is a thorough, -practical acquaintance with Phrenology. Much ridicule has been thrown on -this science by traveling imposters, who have practiced -character-reading, together with witchcraft and fortune-telling—just as -astronomy and astrology were once joined. But such associations are not -more necessary than that sometimes supposed to exist between geology and -unbelief. Phrenology is a branch of the inductive sciences, established -and tested by observation and experiment. Its two cardinal principles -are: First, that the brain is the organ of mind; second, that different -mental functions are performed by different parts of the brain. The -latter is no more unreasonable than to suppose that the different bodily -actions, walking, lifting, eating, smelling, etc., are performed by -different parts of the body. The first proposition is admitted by all; -and if the second is allowed to be reasonable, it then becomes easy to -determine whether the correspondence of faculty and organ in any case is -sufficiently proved. The poets, Whittier and Bryant, Horace Greeley and -the eminent educator, Horace Mann, all professed to derive great -advantage from the study. Henry Ward Beecher, who stands among the first -of living orators, attributes all his power “in making sermons _fit_” to -the early and constant study of Phrenology. It is an instructive fact, -that although the different organs were discovered singly and at long -intervals, yet when the contributions of many laborers have been brought -together, the result is a most beautiful and perfect mental -philosophy—contrasting with the warring systems of metaphysics as the -clear sunlight does with clouds and night. We give it as a deliberate -opinion that it is better for the preacher to remain ignorant of any one -of the natural sciences or learned languages, than to neglect that study -which unfolds the laws of mind and teaches us to understand our fellow -men. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - CULTIVATION—IMAGINATION—LANGUAGE—GESTURE—CONFIDENCE. - - -The ability to convey our thoughts to others may be very greatly -increased by culture. The vastest accumulations of learning will not be -useful to the world unless there is an available channel by which they -may be transmitted. We will consider a few of the elements that make a -man ready in communicating his ideas. - -Imagination is often thought to be unnecessary to the sacred orator; but -if he resign to the poet and novelist that faculty that deals with -beauty in all its forms, the lovers of beauty will be apt to desert the -churches and seek gratification where it can be found. Imagination, in -its legitimate sphere, is as necessary as the power of reasoning, or the -sentiment of devotion. It deals with truth as well as fiction, and gives -to its possessor the creative, life-breathing spirit of poetry. Listen -to the description of any piece of natural scenery by a person of -imagination and another destitute of it. They may describe with equal -truthfulness, and even allude to the same objects; but one will give a -dry catalogue of facts, on which the mind cannot fix without painful -effort, while the other gives a picture that fills us with delight. The -same difference is apparent in the commonest things. In relating a story -or enforcing an argument, the man who has this rare and wonderful power -will make his words glow with life, and arrest our attention. - -It has been said of Henry Ward Beecher, who possesses so strong an -imagination, that the people would listen with wonder if he were only -describing the way a potato grew. This is literally true. He would see -in it a thousand beauties no one else had thought of, and paint the -picture with a force and accuracy that would command attention. His own -conceptions are exceedingly clear, and while his knowledge is great, his -imagination enables him to concentrate everything into a clear and vivid -description. - -Even the Bible, which is the preacher’s great example, is pre-eminently -a book of imagination. Nowhere is there loftier or more beautiful -imagery employed, or truth wrought into more exquisite forms. A few -short and simple words paint pictures that the world looks upon with -astonishment from age to age. The first chapters of Genesis contain as -much poetry as Paradise Lost; in fact, it is the poetry of these -chapters interpreted by a mighty mind that illuminates the most sublime -imaginative poem in the language of man. Job and Isaiah are without -rivals in the mighty imagination that “bodies forth the forms of things -unknown.” Even the New Testament, which we usually consider as a plain -narrative, sparkles with true poetry. Where will we find a more graceful -thought than that of our Saviour’s: “Consider the lilies of the field, -how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; yet I say unto you, -that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” The -Book of Revelation is full of glorious and awful figures addressed to -the imagination. - -With such sanctions, the preacher need not fear to employ all of this -faculty that God has given him. Many of his subjects are in the remote -past, and can only be brought near enough to the people to awaken their -interest by one who can view them as present. There is no possibility of -novelty in our themes. Times are altered since Paul was accused as a -setter-forth of strange doctrines. Men have listened to the same stories -all their lives. Yet if the preacher can make the sublime scenes of the -Bible live in his own mind, he can describe them with the vivacity of an -eye-witness. All have noticed the interest excited in the midst of a dry -sermon by a simple story. The reason is, that the preacher was, at -first, dealing with abstractions—mere words, and nothing more—but when -he came to the story his heart and imagination took hold on it. The same -interest may be excited in any part of a sermon if the speaker can but -throw his own soul into it, and see what he describes. - -The account of the storming of Lookout Mountain, as given by Bishop -Simpson, was a fine illustration of this. The incident is perfectly -familiar, and in describing it he used simple words, without the false -brilliancy that sometimes passes for eloquence. There was no particular -charm in his manner, but his imagination grasped the magnificent -achievement, and it stood out in all its fullness before the eyes of the -audience. They saw the old flag disappear in the cloud, and the long -lines of blue wind up the mountain until they were hidden in the same -obscurity; heard the thunder that man’s artillery made boom out of the -bosom of the cloud; then saw the flag emerge from the mist and heard the -cheer of victory ringing down from the sky. The effect upon the audience -was overwhelming, and irrepressible tears streamed from the eyes of all. - -Such glory may be thrown around the teaching of the Bible, and every -word be true; and the audience will enjoy it more than if they were -actually carried back to the olden time and witnessed its wondrous -scenes with their own eyes; for they will have—what so many feel the -want of when gazing on memorable scenes—some one to interpret their -feelings and give them living sympathy. - -While illustrations and comparisons flow principally from the reasoning -faculties, they derive their beauty from imagination. Without its -influence they may explain and simplify, but have no power to interest -the hearer or elevate the tenor of the discourse. Beecher excels in this -as in so many other things, and while his similes may take hold of the -most common things, they are always highly imaginative and appropriate. - -How may imagination be cultivated? It is said that “poets are born, not -made;” but the foundation of every other faculty is in nature, while all -are useless unless improved and applied. It, too, will increase in power -by use. Imagination is the faculty that forms complete images from the -detached materials furnished by the senses. It takes from all sources, -and mixes and mingles until a perfect picture is formed. Now, the proper -way of cultivating it is by forming just such pictures. Let the preacher -throw on the canvas of the mind every part of his sermon that is capable -of sensible representation. It is not enough to have all the facts, but -he must cast them into the very shape he wishes them to take. A great -part of every sermon may thus be made pictorial, and be far more easily -remembered, and more effectively delivered. Even in doctrinal sermons, -use may be made of this principle, by forming clear mental images of the -illustrations, which are mostly from material objects. When Henry Bascom -was asked how he succeeded in preaching so well, he said that it was by -painting everything vividly in his mind, and then speaking of it as he -saw it before him. He was a man of unbounded imagination, and perhaps -allowed it too much influence in his discourses; but his example is most -instructive to that large number who have not enough to prevent their -sermons from being dim and dry. - -But the preacher must use this faculty with great care, for it is an -edged tool. He deals in sacred things, and while he may approach the -burning bush where the Lord is, he must go with naked feet and softest -tread. Above all, truth and propriety may never be violated. That -imaginative preacher who pictured to his hearers the bustle of a railway -station, the rush of the train, the crowding of friends around to -welcome the passengers, and conspicuous among them, the gray-haired -father of the prodigal son, hurrying with tottering steps to the edge of -the platform, and there grasping the returning penitent by the hand, may -have produced a vivid picture, but his sermon scarcely tended to -edification! - -This faculty may also be cultivated by reading and pondering the works -of those who have it in a high degree of perfection. The time devoted to -the study of the great poets is not lost. They give richness and tone to -the speaker’s mind, introduce him into scenes of ideal beauty, and -furnish him with many a striking thought and glowing image to be woven -into his future discourses. - -Many of the sciences give as full scope to imagination in its best -workings as the fields of poesy. Astronomy and geology stand pre-eminent -in this particular. Everything about them is great. They deal with -immense periods of time, immeasurable magnitudes and sublimest -histories. Hugh Miller’s “Vision of Creation” is as replete with -imagination as a play of Shakespeare, and his other works sparkle with -the same radiant spirit. Each science requires the formation of mental -images, and thus approaches the domain of poetry. The dryness of -mathematical and scientific study is a pure myth. A philosopher once -said that poetry and the higher branches of science depended on the same -powers of mind. He was right. The poet is a creator who forms new worlds -of his own, and “gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name.” -He pictures the idea that arises in his brain in all the vividness of -outward form. The man of science is required to do the same thing, with -the advantage, perhaps, of a few scattered hints. The geologist may have -a few broken bones, a withered leaf, and some fragments of rock, from -which to bring before him the true “forest primeval,” through which -roamed gigantic animals, and dragons more unsightly than ever figured in -Grecian mythology. The astronomer has the half dozen phenomena he can -observe with his telescope from which to conceive the physical -appearance of distant worlds. In every science the same need for -imagination in its high, truthful function exists, and the same -opportunity is afforded for its cultivation. - -An eminent elocutionist once advised his class to employ all pauses in -mentally painting the idea conveyed in the coming sentence. By this -means, he said, the expression of the voice would be made deeper and -truer. If this is so important in reciting the words of others, how much -more should we observe it when improvising sentences as well as -modulations. - -Our conceptions may remain vague and intangible while within the mind, -but they can only reach others by taking the definite form of language. -It by no means follows that a man who has important ideas and deep -emotions, will be able to communicate them; but if he have a moderate -endowment of language it may be so cultivated as to answer all his -requirements. We have no doubt that diligent and long-continued practice -in the methods indicated below will enable the vast majority of men to -express their thoughts with clearness and fluency. - -There are certain laws in every language, made binding by custom, which -cannot be transgressed without exposing the transgressor to ridicule. -These constitute grammar, and must be thoroughly learned. If a man has -been under the influence of good models in speech from childhood, -correctness will be a matter almost of instinct; but the reverse of this -is usually the case. - -At the present day, there is little difficulty in learning to write in -accordance with the rules of composition; and when the power has been -attained, we have a standard by which to judge our spoken words. But it -is not enough for the extempore speaker to be able, by long effort, to -reduce his sentences to correctness. That should be the first and -spontaneous form in which they present themselves. He has no time to -think of right or wrong constructions, and the only safe way is to make -the right so habitual that the wrong will not once be thought of. In -other words, we must not only be able to express ourselves correctly by -tongue and pen, but the very current of thought which is flowing -ceaselessly through our brain, and which is usually clothed in unspoken -words, must be in accordance with the laws of language. When we have -attained the power of precise and accurate thinking, we will have no -difficulty in avoiding the ridiculous blunders sometimes supposed to be -inseparable from extemporaneous speech. - -Correct pronunciation is also of great importance. Usage has the same -authority here as in the collocation of words, and has assigned to each -one its proper sound, which no speaker can mistake without being exposed -to misconception and damaging criticism. A deficient knowledge of -pronunciation is apt to produce another and extremely hurtful effect. -The mental effort necessary to determine between two different sounds -that may be suggested, is liable to divert the mind from the subject it -is engaged upon, and thus occasion embarrassment and hesitation. That -accuracy in the use of words, which is the charm of spoken no less than -written composition, may also be impaired; for if two or more terms for -one object flash into the speaker’s mind, only one of which he is -confident of his ability to pronounce, he will be strongly tempted to -use that one, even if it be the least suitable. He ought to know how to -pronounce all common words, and be so familiar with the right sound and -accent, that no other will ever enter his mind. Then he will be able to -select the terms that convey his meaning most clearly and strongly. - -One blunder in pronunciation should be particularly shunned by every -person of good taste. This is the omission of the sound of “r” in places -where it rightly belongs. It is strange that this shameful perversion of -language should be popular in certain circles. It is so easily observed -and corrected that the poor excuse of ignorance is scarcely admissible, -and in general it can be attributed only to silly affectation. This -sound is as musical as most others, and the attempt to improve the -melody of our speech by its omission is on a par with the efforts of our -great-grandmothers to improve their beauty by affixing patches to their -cheeks and noses. - -Fluency and accuracy in the use of words are two qualities that have -often been confounded, but are really distinct. They are of equal -importance to the speaker, while the writer has most need of the latter. -All words have separate and well-defined meanings. They are not the -product of a day, but have been building up through long ages. By -strange turns, and with many a curious history, have they glided into -the significations they now bear; but each one has become imbedded in -the minds of the people as the representative of a certain idea. No two -words are precisely alike. They are delicate paints that, to the -untutored eye, may seem of one color, but each of which has its own -place in the picture created by the hand of genius, that can be supplied -by no other. Many ways have been suggested to learn these fine shades of -meaning. It is often supposed that the study of the so-called learned -languages—Latin and Greek—is the best and almost only method. This will -certainly give a large amount of information concerning the origin and -formation of words; but it cannot fix their signification at the present -day, for radical changes of meaning often take place. A linguist can use -his knowledge to great advantage; but the man who knows no language but -his own need not consider himself as debarred from the very highest -place as a master of words. He can obtain the same knowledge in a more -condensed and accessible form by the study of a good etymological -dictionary. In general reading, let him mark every word he does not -perfectly understand, and referring to the dictionary, find what it came -from, the meaning of its roots, and its varied significations at the -present day. This will make the word so familiar, that, when he meets it -again, it will seem like an old acquaintance, and he will notice if the -author uses it correctly. He may not be able thus to study every word in -the language, but will be led to think of the meaning of each one he -sees; and from this silent practice will learn the beauty and power of -the English tongue as perfectly as if he were master of the languages of -Greece and Rome. If this habit is long-continued, it will teach him to -use words truly in his very thoughts, and then he cannot mistake even in -the hurry of speech. - -Translating from any language, ancient or modern, will have just the -same tendency to teach accurate expression as careful original -composition. In either case, improvement comes from the search for words -that will exactly convey certain ideas, and it matters not what the -source of these latter may be. The use of a good manual of synonyms—a -thesaurus, or storehouse of words—may be of service, by showing all -terms that relate to any object in one view, and allowing us to choose -the most suitable. - -But none of these methods will very greatly increase our fluency. There -is a difference between merely knowing a term and that easy use long -practice alone can give. Elihu Burritt, with his fifty languages, has -often been surpassed in fluency, force and variety of expression by an -unlettered rustic, because the few words the latter knew were always -ready. This readiness will always increase by use. The blacksmith’s arm, -hardening by the exertion it puts forth, is a trite illustration of the -effect of exercise; and the man who is always applying to ideas and -things the verbal signs by which they are known, will increase the -facility with which he can call them to mind. If he does not employ them -properly, his manner will not improve, and with all his fluency he will -speak incorrectly. But if he speak in accordance with established usage, -his ability will daily increase. - -Conversation is an excellent means for this kind of cultivation. We do -not mean a running fire of question and answer, glancing so rapidly back -and forth as to give no time for premeditating or explaining anything, -but real, rational talk—an exchange of ideas, so clearly expressed as to -make them intelligible. The man who deals much in this kind of -conversation can scarcely fail to become a master of the art of -communicating his thoughts in appropriate language. Talk, express your -ideas when you can with propriety, or when you have an idea to express. -Do it in the best way possible. If hard at first, it will become easier, -and thus you will learn eloquence in the best and most pleasing school. -For the common conversational style—that in which man deals with his -fellowman—is the germ of true oratory. It may be amplified and -systematized; but talking bears to eloquence the same relation the soil -does to the tree that springs from its bosom. - -But the best thoughts of men are seldom found floating on the sea of -common talk. If we wish to drink the deepest inspiration, our minds must -come often in loving contact with the words of the great and mighty of -every age. There we will find “thought knit close to thought;” and, what -is more to the present purpose, words, in their best acceptance, so -applied as to breathe and live. We can read these passages until their -spirit sinks into our hearts, and their melody rings in our ears like a -song of bliss. If we commit them to memory, it will be a profitable -employment. The words of which they are composed, with the meanings they -bear in their several places, will thus be fixed in our minds, and ready -to drop on our tongues when they are needed. This conning of passages is -not recommended for the purpose of quotation, though they may often be -thus used to good advantage; but to print the individual words of which -they are composed more deeply on the memory. - -This may be effected also by committing selections from our own -compositions. What is thus used should be polished, and yet preserve, as -far as possible, the natural form of expression. When this is done to a -moderate extent, it has a tendency to elevate the character of our -extemporaneous efforts by erecting a standard that is our own, and -therefore suited to our tastes and capacities, at the very highest point -we can reach. But if this is made habitual, it will interfere with the -power of spontaneous production, and thus contribute to destroy the -faculty it was designed to cultivate. Ministers who write and commit all -their sermons, are accustomed to read from a mental copy of their -manuscript; and the force of habit binds them more and more closely to -it until they cannot speak otherwise. When such persons are unexpectedly -called upon to make a speech, they do it, not in the simple, easy -language that becomes such an occasion, but by throwing together bits of -previously-committed addresses. They have made what might be an agent of -improvement, the means of so stereotyping their minds that they can only -move in one channel unless time is given them to dig out another. - -There is no means of cultivating language that surpasses extempore -speech itself. The only difficulty is to find occasion to speak often -enough. The pioneer Methodist itinerants, who had to preach every day in -the week, enjoyed this mode of cultivation to its full extent; and -whatever may be thought of their other merits, their fluency of speech -is beyond question. But long intervals of preparation bring -counterbalancing advantages at the present time. Let these be improved -in the way indicated hereafter, and the preacher will come to the sacred -desk with a power increased by each effort. - -When a thought is clearly understood, it will fall into words as -naturally as a summer cloud, riven by lightning, dissolves into rain. So -easy is it to express an idea, or series of ideas, that have been -completely mastered, that a successful minister once said: “It is a -preacher’s own fault if he ever fails in a sermon. Let him prepare as he -ought, and there is no danger.” The assertion was too sweeping, for -there are sometimes external causes that will prevent full success. Yet -there is no doubt that the continuance of this thorough preparation, in -connection with frequent speaking, will give very great ease of -expression. “The blind, but eloquent” Milburn, says, that he gave four -years of his life—the time spent as chaplain at Washington—to acquire -the power of speaking correctly and easily without the previous use of -the pen, and considered the time exceedingly well spent. His manner is -that most difficult to acquire—the diffuse, sparkling, rhetorical style -so much prized by those who prefer flower to fruit. An earnest, nervous, -and yet elegant style can be acquired by most persons in much less time. - -There is another thought that those who complain of deficient language -would do well to ponder. No one can use words well on any subject of -which he is ignorant. The most fluent man, who knows nothing of -astronomy, would find himself at great loss for words if he attempted to -explain the phenomena of the heavenly bodies. Even if he were shown an -orrery, and thus led to comprehend their motions, he would still be -ignorant of the proper terms by which such knowledge is conveyed. If he -attempted to explain what he understood so imperfectly, he would be apt -to hesitate, and finally use words and names incorrectly. As our ideas -become clear and defined, there is an intense hungering for the terms by -which they are expressed; and this hunger will lead to its own supply. -Let us increase our fluency by extending the bounds of our knowledge; -but ask of language nothing more than belongs to its true function—to -furnish means of expression for the ideas we already possess. - -The voice, assisted by gesture, forms the immediate link between the -speaker and his audience. Its qualities are of great importance, -although, in some quarters, over-estimated. A good voice, well managed, -gives powerful and vivid expression to thought, but cannot answer as a -substitute for it. Neither is it indispensable. We have known many and -great instances of success against much vocal disadvantage; but this -only proves that its absence may be compensated by other excellencies. -We can never be indifferent to the charm of a well-modulated voice, -bending to every emotion, and responsive to the finest shades of -feeling. It makes ordinary talk so smooth and pleasant as to be -generally acceptable, but can never raise it to greatness. The instances -that are given to prove this, do not seem capable of bearing such an -interpretation. Whitefield is sometimes spoken of as an instance of what -can be accomplished by masterly elocution; but he was a man of fervent, -if not profound thought. His emotion was overpowering, and his voice, -with all its melody, was only an instrument for its expression. Let a -bad or indifferent man have Whitefield’s voice and manner in -completeness, and he would be but a disgusting declaimer. It is soul -that must speak through the voice to other souls, and only thus can the -mighty effects of eloquence be produced. - -We do not think there is much virtue in the merely mechanical training -of the voice. To teach the pupil just what note on the scale he must -strike to express a particular emotion, how much of an inflection must -be used to indicate sudden joy or sorrow, and how many notes down the -scale mark a complete suspension of sense, is absurd. Speech can never -be set to music. - -But from this let it not be inferred that the cultivation of the voice -is useless. It is the instrument for the expression of thought, and the -more perfect it can be made the better it is fitted for its high office. -It would be well for the preacher to spend some time every day for years -in vocal training, for there is nothing more susceptible of improvement -than the voice. The passion excited during animated speech will demand -almost every note and key within its compass, and unless it has been -previously trained on these, it may fail. To prepare in this way by -exploring the range of the voice, and testing all its capabilities, has -in it nothing mechanical or slavish. It is only like putting a musical -instrument in tune before beginning to play. - -Nothing contributes so much to give ability to manage the voice as the -separation of words into the simple elements of sound, and continued -practice in the enunciation of these. They can be best learned from the -short-hand system of tachygraphy or phonography, or from the phonetic -print. In these we find sound resolved into its elements, which are but -few in number, and on which we can practice until every difficulty in -enunciation is overcome. If there is a fault in our articulation, we -will find just where it is, and can bring all our practice directly to -its remedy. When we are able to give clearly each one of the separate -sounds of the language—not many over forty in number—we can easily -follow them into all their combinations, and are thus master of the -first great excellency in speaking—good articulation. Nor is this all. -We can then practice on the same elements, at different degrees of -elevation on the musical scale, until we can strike every one in full -round distinctness at each point, from the shrillest note used in speech -to the deepest bass. Then the whole field of oratory is open before us. - -But there is still another advantage: if our strength of voice be not so -great as we would wish, we can take the same sounds, and by practicing -upon them with a gradually-increasing effort, attain all the force our -organs are capable of, and even increase their power to a degree that -would be incredible, were it not so often proved by actual experiment. -When engaged in these practices, we will notice a distinction between -the vowel sounds—that while some of them may be prolonged indefinitely, -others are made at a single impulse. Following out these ideas, we will -increase the rapidity of the second until they can be struck with all -the suddenness of the report of a pistol, and one after another so -rapidly that the ear can scarcely catch the distinction between them. -This will enable us to avoid drawling, and help us to speak with -rapidity when we desire it, without falling into indistinctness. We next -learn to prolong the other vowels, and thus to make them carry the -sounds of words to the greatest distance. The full, deliberate -enunciation of a word is audible much further than the most violent -shout. The passenger calling to the ferryman across the river does not -say OVER in one single violent impulse, or, if he does, he is not heard, -but o-o-ver; and even if his tone is gentle, the hills ring again, and -the ferryman is aroused. Let this principle be brought into use in -public speaking, and soon no hall will be too large for the compass of -the voice. - -The different extensions of sounds, as well as their pitch on the -musical scale, and variations of force in enunciation, constitute the -perspective of the art of oratory, and give it an agreeable variety, -like the mingling of light and shade in a well-executed picture. A dull, -dead uniformity, in which each word is uttered on the same key, with the -same degree of force, and each sound enunciated with the same rapidity, -would be utterly unbearable; while a perpetual variety, reflecting in -each rise and fall, each storm and calm of sound, the living thought -within, is the perfection toward which we must strive. - -Little can be done in training the voice beyond these elementary -exercises. The expression in the moment of speech may safely be left to -the impulse of nature. Supply the capability by previous discipline, -then leave passion to clothe itself in the most natural forms. We -believe there is such a connection between the emotions of the mind and -the different tones of voice, that emphasis, inflection and intonation -need not be taught. They will well up from the heart itself. Reading may -require more teaching, for its very nature is artificial; and it behoves -those who read their sermons to study hard to supply the want of emotion -and naturalness by the resources of elocution. But the only effect of -rules upon the speaker, so far as he heeds them at all, is to make him a -cold and lifeless machine. The child that is burnt needs no instruction -to find the right tone to express its pain, so that every one who hears -it knows that it is suffering. It strikes the key-note of joy and every -other emotion with equal certainty. Let nature but have her way, -untrammeled by art, and every feeling that arises will mold the voice to -its will, and every heart will recognize and respond to the sound. We -may in this way miss the so-called “brilliancy” of theatric clap-trap, -but our voices will have that “touch of nature that makes the whole -world kin.” - -Something may be done by observing the world closely and thus becoming -more deeply permeated by that atmosphere of sympathy and passion that -wraps all men into one family, and forms a medium of communication -deeper and more wide-spread than any language of earth. It is also -profitable to listen to the great orators who have mastered the -mysteries of speech, not for the purpose of imitating them, but that we -may appreciate better what true excellence is. Yet it is hurtful to -confine our attention too long to one model, for excellence is -many-sided, and if we view only one of its phases, we are apt to fall -into slavish imitation—the greatest of all vices. We avoid this by -looking upon many examples, and making use of them only to elevate our -own ideal. Then, without a conscious effort to reproduce anything we -have heard, we will be urged to greater exertions, and the whole level -of our attainments raised. - -There are abundant faults to mar the freedom of nature; and the speaker -who would be truly natural must watch vigilantly for them, and, when -found, exterminate them without mercy. The sing-song tone, the scream, -the lisp, the guttural and tremulous tones, must be weeded out as they -come to the surface; and if the preacher’s own egotism is too great to -see them, or his taste not pure enough, some friend ought to point them -out for him. At the bar, or in political life, the keen shaft of -ridicule destroys such things in those who are not incorrigible; but in -the pulpit they are too often suffered to run riot because the sacred -nature of its themes prohibits ridicule, and causes every one to endure -in silence. - -But there is one fault that over-tops all others, and constitutes a -crying sin and an abomination before the Lord. Would that every hearer -who suffers by it had the courage to go to his minister and tell him of -the torture he inflicts. He could not long endure such an overwhelming -fire brought to bear on him. It is what is sometimes designated as the -“solemn or holy tone.” It prevails to an alarming extent. Men who, out -of the pulpit, are varied and lively in their conversation, no sooner -enter it than it seems as if some evil spirit had taken possession of -them and enthroned itself in their voice, which at once sinks into a -measured, or rather measureless drawl, with each word sloping down a -precipice of falling inflections. It conceals ideas as perfectly as ever -Talleyrand did; for surely no idea, even of living light, could -penetrate through such a veil. Men who thus neutralize their talents and -contribute to render religion distasteful, will surely have to answer -for it at the great day of account. Let our style in the pulpit be -simple, earnest and manly. Let each emotion clothe itself in its own -language and tones, and then we will be above all rules, and all censure -too, for we will be under the infallible guidance of nature and the -Spirit of God. - -Should we use a conversational tone in speaking? This question has often -been discussed, and although there is a great difference of opinion, yet -it seems to admit of satisfactory answer. The language of conversation -is the language of nature, and therefore it should be the basis of -speech. The same intonations that are used in it should be employed in -every branch of oratory. But the manner of conversation is not always -the same. The man who talks with a friend across a river would not use -the same tones as if he held that friend by the hand. And if a man is -speaking to a number at once, the very need of being heard will cause -him to speak somewhat louder than in addressing a single person. With -this exception, it might be safely laid down as a rule that a speech -should be commenced in the same manner as we would speak to an -individual. But should it be continued in that way? The orotund tone is -calculated to make a deeper impression than a higher key, or a less -degree of force. But there need be no solicitude about its employment. -Begin as a man who is talking to his friends upon an interesting subject -would do, and then, as the interest deepens, throw away all restraint of -voice. Let it follow passion, and it will naturally fall into the way -that will best express that passion. It will deepen into the -thunder-roar when that is needed, and will become soft and pathetic at -the right time. - -But beware of thinking that you must be loud, in order to be impressive. -Nothing is more disgusting than that interminable roar, beginning with a -shout and continuing all through the sermon. It is worse than monotony -itself. The very loudness of voice that, applied at the right place, -would be overpowering, loses all power, and becomes as wearisome as the -ceaseless lashing of ocean waves to the storm-tost mariner. Strive to -have something to say, keep the fires of passion burning in your own -soul, and the voice, which has previously been diligently cultivated, -will not fail in what should be its only office—the bringing of your -thoughts into contact with the souls of others. - -Books on oratory properly devote much space to the consideration of -gesture, for the eye needs to be addressed and pleased as well as the -ear. But we doubt whether the marking out of gestures to be imitated is -calculated to do much good. The principal use of training seems to be, -first, to overcome the backwardness that might freeze both speaker and -congregation; and second, to discard awkward and repulsive movements. -The first can be accomplished by a firm resolution, and is worthy of it. -We have all seen most eloquent men who did not move at all, or who moved -very slightly in the course of their address, but never without feeling -that the want of gesticulation detracted just so much from their power. -It is unnatural to speak standing still, and none but a lazy, sick, or -bashful man will do it. Yet many who do not hesitate to make their -voices reverberate to the roof, will fear to move even a finger. Let -this timidity be thrown off. Even an ungraceful gesture is better than -none at all. - -But after the first fear has been overcome, and the speaker has learned -to use his hands, he next needs to guard against bad habits. If anything -is truly natural, it will be beautiful; but we are so much corrupted by -early example that it is hard to find what nature is. There is hardly a -public speaker who does not, at some time, fall into habits that are -unsightly or ridiculous. The difference in this respect is, that some -retain all the faults they once get, hanging and accumulating around -them; while others, from the warning of friends or their own -observation, discover their errors, and cast them off. - -A good method of testing our own manner, from which we should not be -deterred by prejudice, is by speaking before a mirror. There is reason -for the common ridicule thrown upon this practice, if we recite our -sermons for the purpose of marking the proper points of gesture, and of -noting where to start, and frown, and wave the arm, so as to make the -whole mere acting. But what we advise is to speak before the glass in as -earnest and impassioned a manner as we can command, not for practice on -the subjects we are to discuss, but that we may “see ourselves as others -see us.” In ordinary speaking we can hear our own voice, and thus become -sensible of any audible errors that we may fall into; but we need the -glass to show us how we look, and to make us see any improper movement -that we may have unconsciously contracted. We do not advise the recital -of a sermon before the glass. There is something cold and irreverent in -the very idea. But the same objection does not apply to ordinary -declamation. - -By these two processes—pressing out into action under the impulse of -deep feeling, as strongly and freely as possible, and by lopping off -everything that is not graceful and effective, we will soon attain a -good style of gesture. All mechanical imitation, all observance of -artificial rules, and especially all attempts to make the gesture -descriptive, such as pointing toward the object alluded to, placing the -hand on the heart to express emotion, etc., will do more harm than good. -The best gesticulation is entirely unconscious. - -Frequently the speed or slowness of the gesture reveals more emotion -than its direction or form. The stroke, when it falls upon a particular -word, aids to make it emphatic, even when there is no observable -connection between the kind of movement made and the sentiment uttered. -Let the mind, intent on its subject, take full possession of the whole -body, as a medium of expression, and every action will correspond with -tone and word, and the soul of the hearer be reached alike through eye -and ear. - -We have already spoken of boldness as an indispensable requisite for an -extempore speaker. But more is needed than the courage that leads us to -encounter the perils of speech. Some speakers master their fears -sufficiently to begin, yet continue to experience a nervous dread which -prevents the free use of their faculties. This clinging timidity may -hang around an orator, and impede his flights of eloquence as -effectually as an iron fetter would an eagle on the wing. The speaker -must confide in his own powers, and be willing to trust to their -guidance. - -It is not necessary that he should have this confidence previous to -speaking, for it is then very difficult to exercise it, and if -possessed, it may assume the appearance of egotism and boastfulness. -Many a man begins to speak while trembling in every limb, but soon -becomes inspired with his theme and forgets all anxiety. But if his fear -be greater than this, and keep him in perpetual terror, it will destroy -liberty and eloquence. A man under such an influence loses his -self-possession, becomes confused, all interest evaporates from his most -carefully-prepared thoughts, and he finally sits down, convinced that -his effort was a failure, while, perhaps, he had in his brain the -necessary power and material to sway the assembly at will. Such a one -must learn to fear less, or seek a higher support under his trials. - -There is no remedy more effectual than to do all our work under the -immediate pressure of duty. If we speak for self-glory, the frowns or -approval of the audience become a matter of vast importance to us, and -if we fail, we are deeply mortified and bewail our foolishness in -exposing ourselves to such risks. On the contrary, if we speak from a -sense of duty, if we hear the cry, “woe is me if I preach not the -Gospel,” sounding in our ears, it is no longer a matter of choice, and -we go forward, even trembling, to obey the imperative command. Our mind -is fixed on our theme, and the applause of the multitude becomes of -small moment to us except as it is the echo of God’s approval. We feel -that we are his workmen, and believe that he will sustain us. Men have -thus been forward in the Christian ministry who would otherwise never -have faced the dangers and exposures of public speaking. They were -driven to it, and therefore threw themselves bravely into it, and often -attained the highest eminence. - -A want of proper confidence is one great reason why so many with -superior talents for off-hand speaking seek refuge in their notes. They -try, and fail. Instead of copying the school-boy motto “try, try again,” -and thus reaping the fruition of their hopes, they give up—conclude that -they have no talents for the work, and sink to mediocrity and tameness, -when they might have been brilliant in the field of true oratory. - -The possession of confidence while speaking secures respect and -deference. The congregation can pardon timidity at the beginning, for -then their minds are fixed on the speaker, and his shrinking seems to be -but a graceful exhibition of modesty and good sense. But after he has -once begun, their minds are on the subject, and they associate him with -it. If he is dignified, respectful and confident, they listen -attentively, and feel the weight of his words. This is far different -from bluster and bravado, which always injure the cause they advocate, -and produce a feeling of disgust toward the offender. The first seems to -arise from a sense of the dignity of the subject; the second from an -opinion of personal importance—an opinion no speaker has a right to -entertain when before an audience, for, in the very act of speaking to -them, he constitutes them his judges. He may have confidence in his own -power to present the subject faithfully, and he will speak with only the -more force and certainty if he is well assured of that, but he must not -let it be seen that he is thinking of himself, or trying to exhibit his -own genius. - -A speaker needs confidence that he may avail himself of the suggestions -of the moment. Some of the best thoughts he will ever have, will be out -of the line of his preparation, and will occur at a moment when there is -no time for him to weigh them. He must reject them immediately or begin -to follow, not knowing whither they lead, and this not in thought alone, -but in audible words, with the risk that they may bring him into some -ridiculous absurdity. He cannot even stop to glance ahead, for the least -hesitation will break the spell he may have woven around his hearers, -while if he rejects the self-offered idea, he may lose a genuine -inspiration. A quick searching glance, that will allow no time for his -own feelings or those of his hearers to cool, is all that he can give, -and it is necessary in that time to decide whether to reject the -thought, or follow it with the same assurance as if the end were clearly -in view. It requires some boldness to do this, and yet every speaker -knows that his very highest efforts—thoughts that have moved his hearers -like leaves before the wind—have been of this character. - -It also requires some confidence to begin a sentence, even when the idea -is plain, without knowing how it is to be framed or where it will end. -This difficulty is experienced very often in speech even by those who -are most fluent. A man may learn to cast sentences very rapidly, yet it -will take some time for them to pass through his mind, and when he has -finished one, the next idea may not have fully condensed itself into -words. To begin, then, with this uncertainty and go on without letting -the people see any hesitation, demands a good deal of confidence in -one’s power of commanding words and forming sentences. Yet a bold and -confident speaker feels no uneasiness on such occasions. Sometimes he -will prolong a pause while he is thinking of the word he wants, and -hazardous as this appears, it is really safe, for the mind is so active -when in the complete possession of its powers that, if necessary, as it -seldom is, something extraneous can easily be thrown in, that will fill -up the time until the right term and the right construction are found. - -This necessary confidence can be cultivated by striving to exercise it, -and by assuming its appearance where the reality is not. Let a person -make up his mind that he will become an extempore speaker, and patiently -endure all failures and mistakes that follow, and he will thus avoid the -wavering and shrinking, and questioning in his own mind that otherwise -distress him and paralyze his powers. If he fail, he will be stimulated -to a stronger and more protracted effort. If he succeed, that will be an -argument upon which to base future confidence, and thus, whatever is the -result, he is forwarded on his course. - -And in regard to the difficulty of sentence-casting, he will make his -way through so many perplexities of that kind, that the only danger will -be that of becoming careless, and constructing too many sentences -without unity or polish. He will acquire by long experience so much -knowledge of the working of his own thoughts, as to be able to tell at a -glance what he ought to reject, and what accept, of the unbidden ideas -that present themselves. He will be ready to seize every new thought, -even if it be outside of his preparation, and, if worthy, give it -instant expression; and if not, dismiss it at once and continue -unchecked along his intended route. - -There is only one direction that we can give for the acquisition of the -confidence that is respectful and self-assured, and yet not forward nor -obtrusive. Be fully persuaded as to what is best for you, and make up -your mind to take the risks as well as the advantages of extempore -speaking. Then persevere until all obstacles are overcome. - -We have thus glanced at a few of the more important acquired qualities -necessary for public speaking. These do not cover the whole field, for -to speak aright requires all the faculties of the mind in the highest -state of cultivation. There is no mental power that may not contribute -to the orator’s success. The whole limits of possible education are -comprised in two great branches: the one relating to the reception, and -the other to the communication of knowledge. The perfect combination of -these is the ideal of excellence—an ideal so high that it can only be -aspired to. All knowledge is of value to the orator. He may not have -occasion to use it directly in his speeches, but it will always be at -hand to select from, and give his views additional breadth and scope. If -his materials are few he must take, not what is best, but what he has. -If a wide extent of knowledge is open before him, the chances are that -he will find exactly what is needed for his purpose. - -The improvement of the power to communicate knowledge is, if possible, -still more important. A great part of the value even of a diamond -depends upon its setting and polish, and the richest and most glowing -thoughts may fail to reach the heart or charm the intellect, unless they -are cast into the proper form, and given external beauty. - -Let the man, then, who would speak well not fear to know too much. He -cannot be great at once. He must build for future years. If he wish a -sudden and local celebrity that will never increase, but molder away, -even in his own lifetime, he could, perhaps, attain it in another way. -He might learn a few of the externals of elocution, and then, with great -care, or by the free use of the material of others, prepare some -finely-worded discourses, and read or recite them as often as he can -find a new audience. It is true that by this means his success will -probably not be as great as he would wish, but he can be sure that what -he achieves will be sufficiently evanescent. He will not grow up to the -measure of greatness, but become daily more dwarfed and stereotyped in -intellect. But on the other hand, let him “intermeddle with all -knowledge,” and make his means of communicating what he thus gathers as -perfect as possible, and then talk to the people out of the fullness of -his treasures, and if no sudden and empty acclaim should greet him, he -will be weighty and influential from the first, and each year that -passes will bring him added power. The aim of the sacred orator should -be the full and harmonious development of all the faculties that God has -given him, and their consecration to his great work. - - - - - PART II. - A SERMON. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - THE FOUNDATION—SUBJECT—OBJECT—TEXT. - - -We have thus far discussed the subject of preliminary training, and have -endeavored to show what natural qualities the preacher must possess, and -how these can be improved by diligent cultivation. The importance of a -wide scope of knowledge, and especially of that which bears upon -oratory; of understanding and having some command of the powers of -language; of having a personal experience of Christ’s pardoning love, -and a heart filled with desire for the salvation of our fellow men; of -believing that God has called us to the work of the ministry; has -already been pointed out. When a man finds himself in possession of -these, and is still a diligent student, growing daily in grace, he is -prepared to preach the Gospel in “demonstration of the spirit and of -power.” He is then ready to consider the methods by which all his gifts -and acquirements may be made available, and wielded with mightiest -effect in the service of his Master. - -Some of the directions given in this and succeeding chapters are of -universal application, while others are to be regarded only as -suggestions, to be modified and changed according to individual taste, -or particular circumstances. - -A plan is necessary to every sermon. A rude mass of brick, lumber, -mortar and iron, thrown together as the materials chance to be -furnished, does not constitute a house, and is worthless until each is -built into its appropriate place, in obedience to some intelligent -design. A sermon must be constructed in a similar manner. It may contain -much that is good, or useful, or striking, and be replete with sparkling -imagery, and full of ideas that will command the attention of the -audience, and yet completely fail. The only safe method is to have a -well-defined plan marked out from beginning to end, and to work -according to it. - -It is always better to have this plan previously constructed. Sometimes -when we speak on a subject we have often thought over, its whole outline -will flash upon us in a moment, and we will speak as well as if we had -employed months in preparation. But such cases are rare exceptions. The -man who attempts, on the spur of the moment, to arrange his facts, draw -his inferences, and enforce his opinions, will find the task very -difficult, even if his memory promptly furnishes all the necessary -materials. - -Every discourse, of whatever character, should have a subject and an -object. A sermon requires a text also, and these three constitute the -foundation upon which it is built. We will consider them separately. - -A good plan cannot be constructed without an object in view. Why is it -that at a particular time a congregation assembles, and sits silent -while a man addresses them? What is his motive in standing up before -them and asking their attention? Many of the people may have been drawn -together by the lightest influences, but the minister, at least, should -be actuated by a noble purpose. If he has a clear aim before him, it -will tend powerfully to give unity and consistency to his discourse, and -prevent him from falling into endless digressions. It will bind all -detached parts together, and infuse a common life through the whole -mass. We cannot be too careful in the selection of such a ruling object, -for it will affect the whole superstructure. - -Our purposes should not be too general. It is not enough that we should -wish to do good. Probably no minister ever preaches without that general -desire. But the important question is, “What special good do I hope to -accomplish by this sermon?” When he has decided this, he will then be -prepared to adapt his means to the end proposed, and the whole discourse -will acquire a definiteness and precision that would never otherwise -have belonged to it. The more we sub-divide our objects, the more will -this precision be increased, although there is a limit beyond which it -would be at the expense of other qualities. If we desire the salvation -of souls, it is well, and most powerful sermons have been preached with -that object in view. But if we narrow our immediate aim, and keep in -view only one of the steps by which the soul advances to God, it will -give our discourse a keener edge, and we can plead with those who have -not yet taken that step with more prospect of immediate success, than if -we at once placed the whole journey before them. For example, many -sermons may be preached with “repentance” as the central object, and -this duty enforced by various motives and innumerable arguments. We may -show that it is a duty, that man is lost without it, that Jesus calls -him to it, that God assists, that salvation follows it, etc. - -Our objects usually have reference to the action of those who hear us, -and the more fully that action is understood, and the more earnest our -desire to produce it, the greater our persuasive power will be. If we do -not exactly know what we wish to accomplish, there is very little -probability that our audience will interpret our thoughts for us. We -may, it is true, labor to convince the judgment of our hearers, and make -them understand truth more clearly than before, but this is usually -because of the influence thus exerted on their actions. - -The objects that should govern our sermons are comparatively few, and -ought to be selected with great care. Much of our success depends on -having the right one of these before us at the right time; for if we aim -at that which is unattainable, we lose our effort. If we preach -sanctification to a congregation of unawakened sinners, no power of -treatment can redeem the sermon from the cardinal defect of -inappropriateness. If we preach against errors which no one of our -hearers entertains, our logic is lost, even if the very errors we battle -against are not suggested. Let us carefully note the state of our -audience, and select for our object that which ought to be accomplished. - -There is a difference between the subject of a discourse and its object; -the latter is the motive that impels us to speak, while the former is -what we speak about. It is not uncommon for ministers to have a subject -without any very distinct object. Their engagements require them to -speak, and a subject is a necessity. That which can be treated most -easily is taken, and all the ideas they possess, or can collect about -it, are given forth, and the matter left. Until such persons grow in -earnest, and really desire to accomplish something, they cannot advance -the cause of God. - -The object of a sermon is the soul, while the subject is only the body; -or, we may say, the one is the end, and the other the means by which it -is accomplished. After the object is fixed the subject can be chosen to -much better advantage; for instance, if it be our object to lead the -penitent to the Cross, we may select any of the themes connected with -the crucifixion and dying love of Christ; we may show the sinner his -inability to fulfill the requirements of the law, and that he needs an -atoning sacrifice to save him from its penalty; we may show that the -salvation purchased is full and free. Many other branches of the same -great topic will be found suitable for the purpose in view. - -This order of selection may sometimes be reversed to good advantage. -When a minister is stationed with a certain congregation, there are many -objects he wishes to accomplish, and often no strong reason for -preferring one in the order of time to another. It will then be well for -him to take that subject which may impress him, and bend his mind toward -an object he can enforce most powerfully through it. - -On other occasions there is a particular end to be attained, which is -for the time all-important, and which thus furnishes the proper object. -Nothing then remains but for the preacher to choose a subject through -which he can work to the best advantage. - -This is one great advantage the Methodists have in protracted meetings. -An object is always in view, and the congregation expect it to be -pressed home with power. No plea of general instruction will then save a -sermon from being thought worthless, if it does not produce an immediate -result. And even the much calumniated “mourners’ bench” contributes most -powerfully to the same result. There is something proposed which the -congregation can see, and through it judge of the preacher’s success or -failure. An outward act is urged upon the unbelieving portion of the -audience, by which they signify that they yield to the power of the -Gospel; and the very fact of having that before him as an immediate, -though not an ultimate aim, will stimulate the preacher’s zeal, and -cause him to put forth every possible exertion. - -After all, the order in which subject and object are selected is not -very material. It is enough that the preacher has a subject that he -understands, and an object that warms his heart and enlists all his -powers. Then he can preach, not as if dealing with abstractions, but as -one who has a living mission to perform. - -Every subject we treat should be complete in itself, and rounded off -from everything else. Its boundaries should be run with such precision -as not to include anything but what properly belongs to it. It is a -common but grievous fault to have the same cast of ideas flowing round -every text that may be preached from. There are few things in the -universe that have not some relation to everything else, and if our -topics are not very strictly bounded, we will fall into the vice of -perpetual repetition. Thus, in a book of sermon sketches we have -examined, nearly every one begins by proving that man is a fallen -creature, and needs the helps or is liable to the ills mentioned -afterward. No other thought is introduced until that primal point is -settled. This doctrine is of great importance, and does affect all man’s -relations, but we can sometimes take it for granted, without endangering -the edifice we build upon it, and occasional silence will be far more -impressive than that continual iteration, which may even induce a doubt -of what seems to need so much proof. - -Ministers sometime acquire such a stereotyped form of thought and -expression that what they say in one sermon will be sure to recur, -perhaps in a modified form, in all others. This kind of preaching is -intolerable. There is an end to the patience of man. He tires of the -same old ideas, and wishes when a text is taken that it may bring with -it a new sermon. The remedy against this evil is to give each sermon its -own territory, and then guard rigidly against trespass. It is not a -sufficient excuse for the minister who preaches continually in one -place, that what he says has a natural connection with the subject in -hand, but it must have a closer connection with it, than with any other -he may use. By observing this rule, we make each theme the solar centre -around which may cluster a great number of secondary ideas, all of which -naturally belong to it, and are undisturbed by satellites from other -systems. - -The subjects from which a preacher may choose are innumerable. The Bible -is an inexhaustible storehouse. Its histories, precepts, prophecies, -promises and threatenings, are almost endless. Then all the duties of -human life, and especially those born of the Christian character; the -best methods of making our way to the end of our journey; the hopes -after which we follow; the dangers that beset our path; the mighty -destinies of time and eternity, are a few of the themes that suggest -themselves, and afford room enough for the loftiest talent, during all -the time that man is allowed to preach on earth. If we would search -carefully for the best subjects, and, when found, isolate them from all -others, we would never need to weary the people by the repetition of -thoughts and ideas. - -While, as a rule, we ought to shun controversial points, we should not -be afraid to lay hold of the most important subjects that are revealed -to man. These will always command attention; heaven and hell, judgment, -redemption, faith, the fall, and all those great doctrines upon which -the Christian religion rests, need to be frequently impressed on the -people. It is also profitable to preach serial sermons on great -subjects. The rise of the Jewish nation and economy would afford a fine -field for instruction. The life and work of Jesus Christ would be still -better. This latter series might consist of discourses on His birth, -baptism, temptation, first sermon, His teaching in general, some miracle -as a type of all others, transfiguration, last coming to Jerusalem, -Gethsemane, betrayal and arrest, trial, crucifixion, resurrection, -ascension and second advent. Many other subdivisions might be made. Such -linked sermons, covering a wide scope, instruct the people better than -isolated ones could, and afford equal opportunities for enforcing all -Christian lessons. Yet it would not be well to employ them exclusively, -or even generally, as such a practice would tend to wearisome sameness. - -The subject must be well defined. It may be of a general nature, but our -conception of it should be so clear that we always know just what we are -speaking about. This is more necessary in an extempore speech than in a -written one, although the want of it will be felt severely even in the -latter. A strong, vividly defined subject will give unity and life to a -whole discourse, and often leave a permanent impression on the mind. To -aid in securing this, it will be well for the preacher, when he has -chosen a subject, to reduce it to its simplest form, and then by writing -it as a phrase or sentence, stamp it on the mind, and let it ring in -every word that is spoken; that is, let each word aid in carrying out -the great idea, or in leading to the desired object, and be valued only -so far as it does this. Those interminable discourses, that seem to -commence anywhere and end nowhere, may be called sermons by courtesy, -but they are not such in reality. The word “sermon” signifies “a -thrust,” which well expresses the concentrativeness and aggressiveness -that should distinguish it, and which nothing but a well-defined theme -can give. It ought not to glitter with detached beauties, like the -starry heavens, but shine with the single, all-pervading radiance of the -sun. - -This unity of theme and treatment is not easily preserved. It is hard to -see in the mind’s eye what we know would please and delight those who -listen, and turn away and leave it, but it is often necessary to -exercise this more than Spartan self-denial, if we would not reduce our -sermons to mere random harangues. Not that illustration should be -discarded, for the whole realm of nature may be pressed into this -service, and a good illustration in the right place is often better than -an argument. But nothing, whatever its nature, should be drawn in, -unless it so perfectly coalesces with the parent idea, that a common -vitality flows through them. If this is the case, the unity will be -unbroken, though even then it often happens that the idea would produce -a better effect in connection with another theme, and should be reserved -for it. - -Usage has established the practice of employing a passage of Scripture -as the basis of a sermon. This is of great advantage to the minister, -for it gives the discourse something of divine sanction, and makes it -more than a popular address. Opinion is divided as to whether it is best -to select the text, and arrange the discourse to correspond with it, or -reversing this order, to compose the sermon first, and thus secure the -harmony that arises from having no disturbing idea, and at the last -moment choose a text of Scripture that will fit it as nearly as -possible. - -No doubt the comparative advantages of these methods will be to a great -degree determined by the occasions on which they are used. When a -subject is of great importance, and we wish to be precise in explaining -it, we may adopt the latter method, but the former is more generally -useful. There are so many valuable ideas and important suggestions in -the words of Scripture, that we can ill afford to deprive ourselves of -this help. For the Bible, with all its ideas, is common property. No -minister need fear the charge of plagiarism, when he borrows, either in -word or thought from its inspired pages. He is God’s ambassador, with -the Bible for his letter of instruction, and the more freely he avails -himself of it, if it be done skillfully, the better for the authority of -his mission. We may often select a subject that appears dark and -confused, but when we have found a passage of Scripture embracing the -same idea, there may be something in it that will solve every doubt, and -indicate the very thoughts we wish to enforce. For this reason we -believe that under ordinary circumstances, the practice of first -constructing the sermon and only at the last moment before delivery, -tacking on a text, is not the best. - -Another reason in favor of previously selecting the text is worth -consideration. The people, who are not supposed to know anything of the -subject, expect, when we read a passage of Scripture, as the foundation -of our remarks, that it will be something more than a mere point of -departure. They anticipate that it will be kept always in view, and -furnish the key-note to the whole sermon. This is but reasonable, and if -disappointed, they will not so well appreciate what is really good in -the discourse. We would not sacrifice unity to a mere rambling -commentary on the words of the text. Let the subject be first in the -mind and bend everything to itself. But let the text be next in -importance, and the whole subject be unfolded with it always in view. It -may be feared that the work of sermonizing will be rendered more -difficult by observing this double guidance, but if a proper text be -chosen—one that, in its literal meaning, will embrace the subject—the -labor will be much lightened. - -It is a common fault to take a passage of Scripture consisting of a few -words only, and put our own meaning upon it, without reference to the -intention of the inspired writer who penned it. This borders very -closely on irreverence. If we cannot use God’s words in the sense he -uses them, we had better speak without a text at all, and then our sin -will only be a negative one. The taking of a few words divorced from -their connection, and appending them to a discourse or essay, that has -no relation to their true meaning, is not less a profanation than it -would be to prefix the motto, “Perfect love casteth out fear,” to a -fashionable novel. But when, on the other hand, we take a text that -contains our subject, and expresses it clearly, we are prepared to -compose a sermon to the best advantage. The subject present in our own -mind runs through every part of the discourse, making it a living unity, -instead of a collection of loose and disordered fragments; while the -text, being always kept in view by the hearers as well as by the -speaker, leads all minds in the same direction, and gives divine -sanction to every word that is spoken. It is not without reason that the -people, whose tastes are nearly always right, though they may not be -able to give a philosophical explanation of them, complain of their -preacher when he does not “stick to his text.” It is right that he -should so adhere. - -A man of genius may neglect this precaution, and still succeed, as he -would do, by mere intellectual force, were he to adopt any other course. -But ordinary men cannot, with safety, follow the example of Sydney -Smith. His vestry complained that he did not talk about the text he -took, and, that he might the more easily reform, they advised him to -divide his sermons as other preachers did. He promised to comply with -their request, and the next Sabbath began, “We will divide our discourse -this morning into three parts; in the first place we will go _up_ to our -text, in the second we will go _through_ it, and in the third we will go -FROM it.” It was generally allowed that he succeeded best on the last -division, but preachers who have not his genius had better omit it. - -These rules in relation to the absolute sway of object, subject and -text, may appear harsh and rigid, but cannot be neglected with impunity. -A true discourse of any kind is the orderly development of some one -thought, with so much clearness, that it may ever afterward live as a -point of light in the memory; other ideas may cluster around it, but one -must reign supreme. If it fails in this particular, nothing else will -redeem it. Brilliancy of thought and illustration will be wasted, as a -sculptor’s art would be on a block of clay. - -A man of profound genius once arose to preach before a great assemblage, -and every breath was hushed to listen. He spoke with power, and some of -his passages were full of thrilling eloquence. He poured forth beautiful -images and deep solemn thoughts, with the utmost profusion. Yet when he -took his seat a sense of utter disappointment filled the hearts of all -present. The sermon was confused. No subject could be traced that bound -it together, and made a point of union to which the memory might cling. -Had he not read his text no one could have guessed it. It was a most -impressive warning of the necessity of laying a foundation before -erecting a magnificent structure. Had he adhered to the thoughts -expressed in his text, which was one of the richest in the Scriptures, -his eloquence and power would not have been thrown away. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - THE PLAN—THOUGHT-GATHERING—ARRANGING—COMMITTING. - - -The logical order of sermon preparation is, first, to gather the -materials of which it is composed; second, to select what is most -fitting, and arrange the whole into perfect order; third, to fix this in -the mind, thus making it available at the moment of use. These processes -are not necessarily separated in practice, but may be best considered in -the order indicated. - -When we choose a subject for a sermon, and allow the mind to dwell upon -it, it becomes a centre of attraction, and naturally draws all kindred -ideas toward it. Old memories that have become dim in the lapse of time, -are slowly hunted out and grouped around the parent thought, and each -hour of study adds to the richness and variety of our stores. The -relations between different and apparently widely-separated things -become visible, just as new stars are seen when we gaze intently toward -them. Everything that the mind possesses is subjected to a rigid -scrutiny, and all that appears to bear any relation to the subject is -brought into view. A considerable period of time is usually required for -the completion of all this, and the longer it is continued the better, -provided the interest felt is not abated. - -Such continuous reaches of thought form a principal element in the -superiority of one mind over another. Even the mightiest genius cannot, -at a single impulse, exhaust the ocean of truth that opens around every -object of man’s contemplation. And it is only by viewing a subject in -every aspect, that we can guard against superficial and one-sided -impressions. But the continued exertion and toil which this implies are -nearly always distasteful, and the majority of men can accomplish it -only by a stern resolve. This ability, whether acquired or natural, is -one of prime necessity, and the young minister, at the very first, -should learn to thoroughly investigate and finish every subject he -undertakes, and continue the habit during life. This will generally -determine the question of his success or failure, at least from an -intellectual point of view. Thought is a mighty architect, and if you -keep him fully employed, he will build up, with slow and measured -strokes, a gorgeous and enduring edifice on any subject within your -mental range. You may weary of his labor, and think the wall rises very -slowly, and will never be completed, but wait. The work will be finished -at last, and will be no ephemeral structure to be swept away by the -first storm, but will stand unshaken on the basis of eternal truth. - -M. Bautain compares the accumulation of thought around a subject, to the -almost imperceptible development of organic life. Striking as is the -illustration, there is one marked point of dissimilarity. The growth of -thought is voluntary, and may be arrested at any stage. Even a cessation -of conscious effort is fatal. To prevent this, and keep the mind -employed until all its work is done, requires, with most persons, a -regular and formal system. Profound thinkers, who take up a subject, and -cannot leave it until it is traced into all its relations, and mastered -in every part, and who have at the same time the power of long -remembering the trains of thought that pass through their minds, may not -need an artificial method. But these are exceptions to the general rule. - -We will give a method we have found useful for securing sermon -materials, and allow others to adopt it so far as it may prove -advantageous to them. - -Ideas are not always kept equally in view. Sometimes we may see one with -great clearness, and after a little time lose it again, while another, -at first invisible, comes into sight. Each one should be secured when it -occurs. After the subject has been pondered for a sufficient length of -time, write all the thoughts that are suggested on it, taking no care -for the arrangement, but only putting down a word or brief sentence that -will recall the idea intended. After everything that presents itself has -thus been rendered permanent, the paper containing these items may be -put away, and the subject recommitted to the mind. As other ideas arise, -let them be recorded in the same way, and the process extended over days -together. Sometimes new images and conceptions will continue to float -into the mental horizon even for weeks. Most persons who have not tried -this simple process, will be surprised to find how many thoughts they -have on the commonest topic. If some of this gathered matter remains -vague and indefinite, it will only be necessary to give it more time, -more earnest thought, and all obscurity will vanish. - -At last, there comes a consciousness that the mind’s power on that theme -is exhausted. If we also feel that we possess all the requisite -material, this part of our work is ended. But more frequently there will -be a sense of incompleteness, and we are driven to seek what we need -elsewhere. - -The next step is the obtaining of new facts. We have thus far dealt with -what the mind itself possesses, and have only sought to make that -previously-accumulated knowledge fully available. But when this stage is -reached, we hunger for more extended information. We read the works of -those who have treated on the themes we are discussing, converse with -well-informed persons, observe the world closely, and at last find the -very idea we want. We receive it with joy, and from thenceforth it -becomes a part of our being. We place the treasure on paper with other -items, and continue to search until we have all we desire. It often -happens that we do not find exactly the object of our search, but strike -on some chain that guides us to it through the subtile principles of -association. It is only the more welcome because we have thus traced it -out. - -We have on paper, at last, and often after much toil, a number of -confused, unarranged notes. The whole mass relates to the subject, but -much is unfitting, and all requires, by another process, to be cast into -order and harmony. The first step in this direction is to omit -everything not necessary to the purpose of the sermon. This is a matter -of great importance. It has been said that the principal difference -between a wise man and a fool is, that the one utters all his thoughts, -while the other gives only his best to the world. Nearly every man has, -at times, thoughts that would profit mankind, and if these are carefully -selected from the puerilities by which they may be surrounded, the -result cannot but be valuable. And if this cautious selection be needed -on general topics, it is still more imperative in the ministry of the -Word. The preacher must beware of giving anything repugnant to the -spirit of his mission. And the necessity of a purpose running through -his whole discourse, which we have before enlarged on, compels him to -strike out each item at variance with it. It is well to carefully read -over our scattered notes after the fervor of composition has subsided, -and erase all that are unfitting. Sometimes this will leave very few -ideas remaining, and we are obliged to search for others to complete the -sermon. This can be continued until we have gathered a sufficient mass -of clearly connected thoughts to accomplish the object in view. - -Next follows the task of constructing the plan for the intended sermon. -Unless this is well done, success is impossible. The mightiest results -are obtained in oratory by the slow process of words, one following -another. Each one should bear forward the current of thought in the -right direction, and be a help to all that follow. And as, in extempore -speech, these words are given forth on the spur of the moment, it -becomes necessary to so arrange that the proper thought to be dissolved -into words, may always be presented to the mind at the right time. - -In some cases this disposition of parts is quite easy. A course -indicated by the very nature of the subject will spring into view, and -relieve us of further embarrassment. But often this portion of our task -will require severe thought. - -Many different kinds of plans have been specified by writers on -Homiletics. We will be contented with four divisions, based on the mode -of construction. - -The first, we may call the narrative method. It is principally used when -some scripture history forms the basis of the sermon. In it the -different parts of the plan are arranged according to the order of time, -except when some particular reason, borrowed from the other methods, -intervenes. When there are few or none of these portions which give it a -composite character, the development proceeds with all the simplicity of -a story. Many beautiful sermons have been thus constructed. - -A second method is the textual. Each part of the sermon rests on some of -the words or clauses of the text, and these suggest the order of its -unfolding, although they may be changed to make it correspond more -nearly to the narrative, or the logical methods. This kind of plan has -an obvious advantage in assisting the memory by suggesting each part at -the proper time. - -The logical method is the third we will describe. A topic is taken, and -without reference to the order of time or the words of the text, is -unfolded as a proposition in Geometry—each thought being preliminary to -that which follows, and the whole ending in the demonstration of some -great truth, and the deduction of its legitimate corollaries. This -method is exceedingly valuable in many cases, if not pressed too far. - -The last method, and the one employed more frequently than all the -others, is the divisional. It is the military arrangement, for in it the -whole sermon is organized like an army. All the detached items are -brought into related groups, each governed by a principal thought, and -these again are held in strict subordination to the supreme idea; or, to -change the figure, the entire mass resembles a tree, with its single -trunk, its branches subdivided into smaller ones, and all covered with a -beautiful robe of leaves, that rounds its form into graceful outlines, -even as the flow of words harmonizes our prepared thoughts, into the -unity of a living discourse. - -A subject will many times arrange itself almost spontaneously into -several different parts, which thus form the proper divisions, and these -again may be easily analyzed into their subdivisions. Even when this is -not the case, we will see, as we examine our jottings, that a few of the -ideas stand out in especial prominence, and with a little close study of -relations and affinities, all the others may be made to group themselves -around these. The individual ideas which we put down on the first study -of the subject, usually form the subdivisions, and some generalization -of them the divisions. - -It is well not to make the branches of a subject too numerous, or they -will introduce confusion, and fail to be remembered. From two to four -divisions, with two or three subdivisions under each, are in a majority -of cases better than a larger number. The tendency to multiply them -almost infinitely, which was formerly very prevalent, and is still too -common, receives a merciless, but well-deserved rebuke from Stephens, in -his “Preaching Required by the Times.” He is criticising a popular -“Preacher’s Manual”: - -“These more than six hundred pages are devoted exclusively to the -technicalities of sermonizing. We almost perspire as we trace down the -tables of contents. Our eye is arrested by the ‘divisions’ of a -subject—and here we have no less than ‘nine kinds of divisions:’ the -‘Exegetical Division,’ the ‘Accommodational Division,’ the ‘Regular -Division,’ the ‘Interrogative Division,’ the ‘Observational Division,’ -the ‘Propositional Division,’ etc.; and then come the ‘Rise from Species -to Genus,’ the ‘Descent from Genus to Species.’ And then again we have -exordiums: ‘Narrative Exordiums,’ ‘Expository Exordiums,’ ‘Argumentative -Exordiums,’ ‘Observational Exordiums,’ ‘Applicatory Exordiums,’ ‘Topical -Exordiums,’ and, alas for us! even ‘Extra-Topical Exordiums.’ One’s -thoughts turn away from a scene like this spontaneously to the Litany, -and query if there should not be a new prayer there. - -“But this is not all. Here are about thirty stubborn pages to tell you -how to make a _comment_ on your text, and we have the ‘Eulogistic -Comment’ and the ‘Dislogistic Comment,’ (turn to your dictionary, -reader; we cannot stop in the race to define), ‘Argumentative Comment’ -and the ‘Contemplative Comment,’ the ‘Hyperbolical Comment,’ the -‘Interrogative Comment,’ and the list tapers off at last with what it -ought to have begun and ended with, the ‘Expository Comment.’ - -“And even this is not all. Here is a section on the ‘Different kinds of -Address,’ and behold the astute analysis: ‘The Appellatory, the -Entreating, the Expostulatory, the Remedial, the Directive, the -Encouraging, the Consoling, the Elevating, the Alarming, the Tender, the -Indignant, the Abrupt.’ - -“This is the way that the art ‘Homiletic’ would teach us when and how to -be ‘Tender,’ ‘Indignant,’ ‘Consoling,’ and even ‘Abrupt!’ ‘Nonsense!’ - -“Yes, ‘nonsense!’ says any man of good sense in looking at this folly: a -folly which would be less lamentable if it could only be kept to the -homiletic professor’s chair, but which has still an almost -characteristic effect on pulpit eloquence—not only on the _form_ of the -sermon, but as a natural consequence on its very _animus_. This tireless -author gives all these outlines as _practical_ prescriptions. He even -presents them in a precise formula. We must yield to the temptation to -quote it. ‘There are,’ he says, ‘certain technical signs employed to -distinguish the several parts of a discourse. The first class consists -of the _principal divisions_, marked in Roman letters, thus: I., II., -III., IV., etc. Next, the _subdivisions of the first class_, in figures, -1, 2, 3, etc. Under these, _subdivisions of the second class_, marked -with a curve on the right, as 1), 2), 3), etc. Then, _subdivisions of -the third class_, marked with two curves, as (1), (2), (3), etc.; and -under these, _subdivisions of the fourth class_, in crotchets, thus: -[1], [2], [3]. As— - - “I. Principal division. - 1. Subdivision of first class. - 1). Subdivision of second class. - (1). Subdivision of third class. - [1]. Subdivision of fourth class. - -“Mathematical this, certainly; some of Euclid’s problems are plainer. As -a ‘demonstration’ is obviously necessary, the author proceeds to give -the outline of a sermon on ‘_The Diversity of Ministerial Gifts_,’ from -the text ‘_Now there are Diversities of Gifts_,’ etc. He has but two -‘General Divisions,’ but makes up for their paucity by a generous -allowance of ‘Subdivisions.’ His ‘General Divisions’ are, I. _Exemplify -the Truth of the Text_. II. _Derive some Lessons of Instruction_, -etc.,—an arrangement simple and suitable enough for any popular -audience, if he were content with it, but under the first head he has -two ‘subdivisions,’ the first of which is reduced to _thirteen_ -sub-subdivisions, and one of these thirteen again to _seven_ -sub-sub-subdivisions! The second of his subdivisions again divided into -_eight_ sub-subdivisions, while the ‘homily’ (alas for the name!) is -completed by a merciless slashing of the second ‘general division’ into -no less than _eight_ subdivisions. The honest author, when he takes -breath at the end, seems to have some compunctious misgivings about this -infinitesimal mincing of a noble theme, and reminds the amazed student -that though the plan should be followed ‘in the composition of a -sermon,’ the ‘minor divisions’ can be concealed from view in preaching; -and he concludes the medley of nonsense with one sensible and very -timely admonition: ‘If a discourse contain a considerable number of -divisions and subdivisions,’ care should be taken to fill up the -respective parts with suitable matter, or it will be, indeed, a mere -_skeleton_—bones strung together—‘very many and very dry!’” - -When we have accumulated our materials, stricken out all not needed, and -determined what shall be the character of our plan, the remainder of the -work must be left to individual taste and judgment. No rules can be -given that will meet every case. We might direct to put first what is -most easily comprehended, what is necessary for understanding other -portions, and also what is least likely to be disputed. But beyond these -obvious directions little aid can be given. The preacher must form his -own ideal, and work up to it. He may profitably examine sermon -skeletons, to learn what such forms should be. And when he hears good -discourses he may look beneath the burning words, and see what are the -merits of the frame-work on which they rest. This may render him -dissatisfied with his own achievements, but such dissatisfaction is the -best pledge of earnest effort for higher results. - -A certain means of improvement is to bestow a great deal of time and -thought on the formation of plans, and make no disposition of any part -without a satisfactory reason. If this course is faithfully continued, -the power to arrange properly will be acquired, and firm, coherent, and -logical sermons be constructed. - -There are certain characteristics that each sermon skeleton should -possess. It must indicate the nature of the discourse, and mark out each -of its steps with accuracy. Any want of definiteness is a fatal defect. -The orator must feel that he can rely absolutely on it for guidance to -the end of his discourse, or be in perpetual danger of embarrassment and -confusion. Each clause should express a distinct idea, and but one. If -it contain anything that is included under another head, we fall into -wearisome repetition, the great danger of extempore preachers. But if -discordant and disconnected thoughts are grouped together, we are liable -to forget some of them, and in returning, destroy the order of the -sermon. - -A brief plan is better than a long one. Often a single word will recall -an idea as perfectly as many sentences would do, and will burden the -memory less. We do not expect the draft of a house to equal the building -in size, but only to indicate the position and proportion of its -apartments. The plan cannot supply the thought, but, indicating what -exists in the mind, it shows how to bring it forth in regular order. It -is a pathway leading to a definite end, and like all roads, its crowning -merits are directness and smoothness. Without these, it will perplex and -hinder rather than aid. Every word in the plan should express, or assist -in expressing an idea, and be so firmly bound to it that the two cannot -be separated by any exigency of speech. It is perplexing in the heat of -discourse to have a prepared note lose the idea attached to it, and -become merely an empty word. But if the conception is clear, and the -most fitting term has been chosen to embody it, this cannot easily -happen. A familiar idea may be noted very briefly, while one that is new -requires to be more fully expressed. Most sermon skeletons may be -brought within the compass of a hundred words, and every part be clear -to the mind that conceived it, though, perhaps not comprehensible by any -other. - -It is not always best to present the divisions and subdivisions in -preaching. The congregation do not care how a sermon has been -constructed, provided it comes to them warm and pulsating with life. To -give the plan of a sermon before the sermon itself, is contrary to the -analogy of nature. She does not require us to look upon a grisly -skeleton before we can see a living body. It is no less objectionable to -name the parts and numbers of the sketch during the discourse, for bones -that project through the skin are very uncomely. The people will not -suffer, if we keep all the divisions to ourselves, for they are only -professional devices to render our share of the work easier. Much of the -proverbial “dryness” of sermons arises from displaying all the processes -we employ. A hotel that would have its beef killed and dressed before -its guests at dinner, would not be likely to retain its patronage. -Whenever we hear a minister state his plan in full, and take up -“firstly” and announce the subdivisions under it, we prepare our -patience for a severe test. - -What the people need, are deep, strong appeals to their hearts, through -which shines the lightning of great truths, and the sword of God’s -spirit smites—not dry, dull divisions through which “it is easy to -follow the preacher”—a compliment often given, but always equivocal. A -tree is far more beautiful when covered with waving foliage, even if -some of the branches are hidden. Let the stream of eloquence sweep on in -an unbroken flow, bearing with it all hearts, but giving no indication -of the manner in which it is guided; or, better still, let it move with -the impetus of the cannon ball, overthrowing everything in its path, but -not proclaiming in advance the mark toward which it is flying! - -We should go as far in the plan as we intend to do in the sermon, and -know just where to stop. Then we arise with confidence, for we are sure -that we have something to say; we know what it is; and most important of -all, we will know when it is finished. Most objections against extempore -preaching apply only to discourses that have no governing plan. When -this is firm and clear, there is no more danger of saying what we do not -intend, or of running into endless digressions, than if we wrote every -word. Indeed there is no better way to compose a written sermon, than by -first arranging a plan. - -But it may be urged that this laborious preparation—this careful placing -of every thought—will require as much time as to write in full. It may -at first. The mind needs to be trained in the work, and it will be of -great advantage even as a mental discipline. But it grows easier with -practice, until the preparation of two sermons a week will not be felt -as a burden—will only afford grateful topics of thought while busied at -other labor. The direct toil of a mature preacher may not exceed an hour -per week. - -The sermon is now clearly indicated. A plan has been prepared that fixes -each thought to be expressed in its proper place. There is no further -danger of the looseness and desultoriness that are not unfrequently -supposed to be peculiar to extemporaneous speech. It is possible, in the -moment of utterance, to leave the beaten track, and give expression to -any new ideas that may be suggested. But there is a sure foundation -laid—a course marked out that has been deeply premeditated, and which -gives certainty to all we say. - -But it is not enough to have the plan on paper. As it came from the mind -at first in detached items, it must, in its completed state, be restored -to it again. Some ministers are not willing to take the trouble of -committing their skeletons to memory, but lay the paper before them, and -speak on one point until that is exhausted, and then look up the next, -which is treated in the same manner. This tends powerfully to impair the -unity of the discourse, which should he unbroken, and to make each note -the theme of a short, independent dissertation, rather than an integral -part of the whole. The minister reaches a point where he does not know -what is to come next, and on the brink of that gulf looks down at his -notes, and after a search, perhaps finds what he wants. Had this latter -thought existed in his mind, it would have been taken notice of in time, -and the close of the preceding one bent into harmony with it. The direct -address of the preacher to the people, which they value so much, is -interfered with in the same way, for his eye must rest, part of the -time, on his notes. The divisions also of the sermon are apt to be -mentioned, for it is hard for the tongue to refrain from pronouncing the -words that the eye is glancing over. - -For all these reasons we believe that notes should seldom, if ever, be -used in the pulpit. They remedy none of the acknowledged defects of -extempore speaking, but add to them the coldness and formality of -reading. Those who cannot trust the mind alone had better go further, -and read their sermons with what earnestness they can command, and thus -secure the elegant finish supposed to be attainable only in written -compositions. - -But not all who use notes thus abuse them. Many employ them merely to -prevent possible forgetfulness, and perhaps do not look at them once -during the sermon. Yet it is still better to carry them in the pocket, -and thus avoid the appearance of servile dependence, while they would -still guard against such a misfortune as befel the Abbe Bautain, who, on -ascending the pulpit to preach before the French king and court, found -that he had forgotten the subject, plan and text! - -By committing the plan to memory the mind takes possession of the whole -subject. It is brought into one view, and if any part is inconsistent -with the main discussion, the defect will be seen at once. If the plan -is properly constructed, the mind is then in the best possible condition -for speech. The object is fixed in the heart, and will fire it to -earnestness and zeal, and the subject is spread out before the mind’s -eye, while the two meet and mingle in such a way as to give life and -vitality to every part. This is just what is needed in true preaching. -The speaker’s soul, heated by the contemplation of his object, -penetrates every part of his theme, investing it with an interest that -compels attention. All the power he possesses is brought to bear -directly on the people. We can scarcely imagine a great reformer—one who -has shaken the nations—to have adopted any other method of address. -Think of Xavier or Luther with their notes spread out before them, while -addressing the multitudes who hung on their lips! The Presbyterian elder -who once prayed in the presence of his note-using pastor: “O Lord! teach -thy servants to speak from the heart to the heart, and not from a little -piece of paper, as the manner of some is!” was not far wrong. - -It is well to commit the plan to memory a considerable time before -entering the pulpit. There is then less liability of forgetting some -portion of it, and it takes more complete possession of the mind. This -is less important when we preach on subjects with which we are perfectly -familiar, for then “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth -speaketh.” But we are not always so favored. Even if the salient -features are well known, some of the minor parts may require close -consideration. This cannot be so well bestowed until after the plan is -completely prepared, for before that time there is danger that much of -our attention may be given to some idea which may be ultimately -rejected, or changed with the plan. But when the plan is finished, each -idea has settled into its place. If obscurity still rests anywhere, it -will be seen at once, and the strength of the mind brought to bear on -that particular point. The impressions then made are easily retained, -because associated with a part of the prepared outline. Such deep -meditation on each division of the sermon can scarcely fail to make it -original in the truest sense of the term, and weave it together with -strong and massive thought. - -After the plan is committed to memory, we can meditate on its different -portions, not only at the desk, but everywhere. As we walk from place to -place, or lie on our beds, or at any time find our minds free from other -engagements, we can ponder the ideas that cluster around our subject -until they grow perfectly familiar. Even when we are reading, brilliant -thoughts may spring up, or those we possessed before take stronger and -more definite shape. - -This course we would strongly urge on the young speaker. If diligently -followed, it will be invaluable. Arrange the plan from which to speak as -clearly as may be, and memorize it; turn it over and over again; ponder -each idea and the manner of bringing it out; study the connection -between all the parts, until the whole, from beginning to end, appears -perfectly plain and simple. This method of preparation has been so fully -tested by experience, that its effectiveness is no longer questionable. - -It is important to grasp the whole subject, as nearly as possible, in a -single idea—in the same way that the future tree is compressed in the -germ from which it springs. Then this one thought will suggest the -entire discourse to the speaker, and at its conclusion will be left -clear and positive on the hearer’s mind. It is true that some acute -auditors may outrun a loose speaker, arrange his scattered fragments, -supply his omissions, and arrive at the idea which has not yet formed -itself in his own mind. Such persons often commend preachers who are -incomprehensible to the majority of their audience. But it is not safe -to trust their applause for they are exceedingly apt to be in the -minority. - -After the plan is memorized, it is often of advantage to sketch the -discourse in full; if this is done in long hand, there is danger that -its slowness will make it more of a word-study than what it is intended -to be—a test of ideas. Here short hand is valuable; and its use in this -manner will at once detect anything that may be wrong in the plan, for -if all is well arranged there need be no pause in the most rapid -composition. If we are able at one effort to throw the whole into a -dress of words, we can be confident that with the additional stimulus -supplied by the presence of a congregation, it will be easy to do the -same again. There should be no attempt, at the time of speaking, to -recall the terms used in writing, but our command of language is usually -improved by having so lately used many of the terms we will need again. -Frequently there are fine passages in the sermons thus struck off at -white heat which we would not willingly forget, yet it is better to make -no effort to remember them, for we are almost certain to rise even -higher in the excitement of speech. - -Those who cannot write at a speed approaching that of the tongue, and -who wish a little more assistance than is furnished by the plan, can -make a brief sketch of it—a compact and intelligible model of the whole -subject. A discourse that requires an hour in delivery may be compressed -into a wonderfully small compass, without a material thought being -omitted or obscurely indicated. Such a sketch differs from the plan in -clearly expressing all the ideas that underlie the discourse, while the -latter would be unintelligible to any but the writer. The one is only a -few marks thrown out into the field of thought, by which an intended -pathway is indicated; the other is an exceedingly brief view of the -thoughts themselves, without adornment or verbiage. Some speakers who -might feel insecure in trusting the notes and hints of the plan, would -feel free to enlarge on a statement of their thoughts, so brief as to -require only two or three minutes for reading. But this is only an -expedient, and need not be adopted by those who have confidence in their -trained and cultivated powers. - -The method of committing to memory a skeleton for the purpose of -securing our accumulations, is widely different from the systems of -Mnemonics that were once so current. Ideas are linked together by -natural, not artificial associations. It is the grasping of one thought -that points to another, or dissolves, as we gaze upon it, into minuter -ones, and is, in most instances, based upon that rigid analysis which -cannot be dispensed with even by those who would think exactly. All who -write their sermons would do well to adopt it. Strict analysis and broad -generalization are the foundation of all science, and if the preacher -builds upon them the world of spiritual truth will yield him its -treasures. - -After a plan has been fully prepared it may easily be preserved for -future use, by being copied into a book kept for the purpose, or, what -is more convenient in practice, folded into an envelope, with the -subject written on the back. By the latter means a large number may be -preserved in such form as to be readily consulted. These can be improved -as our knowledge increases, so as to be, at any time, the complete -expression of our ability on the theme treated of. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - PRELIMINARIES—FEAR—VIGOR—OPENING EXERCISES. - - -It is an anxious moment when, after having completed his preparation, -the preacher awaits the time for beginning his intellectual battle. Men -who are physically brave often tremble in this emergency. The shame of -failure appears worse than death itself, and as the soldier feels more -of cold and shrinking terror while listening for the peal of the first -gun, than when the conflict deepens into blood around him, so the -speaker suffers more in this moment of expectancy than in any that comes -after. He sees the danger in its full magnitude without the inspiration -that attends it. Yet he must remain calm and collected, for unless he is -master of himself, he cannot expect to rule the multitude before him. He -must keep his material well in hand, that it may be used at the proper -time, although it is not best to be continually conning over what he has -to say. The latter would destroy the freshness of his matter, and bring -him to the decisive test weary and jaded. He only needs to be assured -that his thoughts are within reach. - -It is very seldom possible to banish all fear, and it is to the -speaker’s advantage that he cannot. His timidity arises from several -causes, which differ widely in the effects they produce. A conscious -want of preparation is one of the most distressing of these. When this -proceeds from willful neglect no pity need be felt, although the penalty -should be severe. If the speaker’s object is only to win reputation—to -pander to his own vanity—he will feel more terrified than if his motive -were worthy. Such is often the position of the uncalled minister. He can -have no help from on high, and all his prayers for divine assistance are -a mere mockery. But if we speak because we dare not refrain, a mighty -point is gained, for then failure is no reproach. And the less of -earthly pride or ambition mingles with our motives, the more completely -can we rely on the help of the Spirit. - -Another cause of fear is less unworthy. The glorious work in which we -are engaged may suffer from our insufficiency; for, while God will bless -the truth when given in its own beauty and power, there is still scope -enough for all the vigor of intellect, and the strongest preacher feels -the responsibility of rightly using his powers resting heavily upon him. - -A general dread, that cannot be analyzed or accounted for, is perhaps -more keenly felt than any other. Persons who have never spoken sometimes -make light of it, but no one will ever do so who has experienced it. The -soldier, who has never witnessed a battle, or felt the air throb with -the explosion of cannon, or heard the awful cries of the wounded, is -often a great braggart, while “the scarred veteran of a hundred fights” -never speaks of the carnival of blood without shuddering, and would be -the last, but for the call of duty, to brave the danger he knows so -well. A few speakers never feel such fear, but it is because they do not -know what true speaking is. They have never felt the full tide of -inspiration that sometimes lifts the orator far above his ordinary -conceptions. They only come forward to relieve themselves of the -interminable stream of twaddle that wells spontaneously to their lips, -and can well be spared the pangs that precede the birth of a profound -and living discourse. - -This kind of fear belongs to oratory of any character, but especially to -that which deals with sacred themes. It resembles the awe felt on the -eve of all great enterprises, and when excessive, as it is in some -highly gifted and sensitive minds, it constitutes an absolute bar to -public speech. But in most cases it is a source of inspiration rather -than of repression. - -There is a strange sensation often experienced in the presence of an -audience before speaking. It may proceed from the united electric -influence of the many eyes that are turned upon the speaker, especially -if he catches their gaze. It may enchain him and leave him powerless, -unless he rises superior to it, and, throwing it backward to its source, -makes it the medium of his most subtile conquests. Most speakers have -felt this in a nameless thrill, a real something, pervading the -atmosphere, tangible, evanescent, indescribable. All writers have borne -testimony to the effect of a speaker’s glance in impressing an audience. -Why should not their eyes have a reciprocal power? - -By dwelling on the object for which we speak, and endeavoring to realize -its full importance, we will in a measure lose sight of the danger to be -incurred, and our minds be more likely to remain in a calm and tranquil -state. But no resource is equal to the sovereign one of prayer. The Lord -will remember his servants when they are laboring in his cause, and -grant a divine influence to prepare them for the work. - -No change in the plan should be made just before speaking, for it will -almost inevitably produce confusion. Yet this error is very difficult to -avoid. The mind has a natural tendency to be going over the same ground, -revising and testing every point, and is liable to make changes, the -consequences of which cannot at once be foreseen. After all necessary -preparation has been made, we should wait the result quietly and -hopefully. Over-study is possible, and when accompanied by great -solicitude, is a sure means of driving away all interest from the -subject. If the eye be fixed too long upon one object, with a steadfast -gaze, it will be unable to see at all. So the mind, if confined to one -point for a great period, will lose its vivacity, and grow weary. -Nothing can compensate for the want of elasticity and vigor in the act -of delivery. It is not enough to enumerate a dry list of particulars, -but we must enter into their spirit with the deepest interest. This -cannot be counterfeited. To clearly arrange, and weigh every thought -that belongs to the subject, lay it aside until the time for speech, and -then enter upon it with only such a momentary glance as will assure us -that all is right, is doubtless the method to make our strength fully -available. To await the decisive moment with calm self-confidence, is -very difficult, especially for beginners, but the ability to do it may -be acquired by judicious practice and firm resolution. M. Bautain, whose -experience was very extensive, says that he has sometimes felt so -confident of his preparation, as to fall asleep while waiting to be -summoned to the pulpit! - -But those who misimprove the last moments by too much thought, form the -smallest class. Many, through mere indolence, permit the finer lines of -the future discourse, that have been traced with so much care, to fade -out. This not unfrequently happens to those who preach a second or third -time on the same subject. Because they have succeeded once, they imagine -that the same success is always at command. This is a hurtful, though -natural error. It is not enough to have the material for a sermon where -it may be collected by a conscious and prolonged effort, but it must be -in the foreground. There is no time, in the moment of delivery, for -reviving half obliterated lines of memory. - -We once witnessed an instance of most unexpected failure from this -cause. The speaker was much engrossed with other duties until the -appointed hour, and then, having no leisure for preparation, he selected -a sermon he had preached shortly before, and with the general course of -which he was no doubt familiar. Yet when he endeavored to produce his -thoughts they were not ready. He became embarrassed, and was finally -compelled to take his seat in the midst of his intended discourse. - -It is well, during the last interval, to care for the strength of the -body, for its condition will influence all the manifestations of mind. -It is said that the pearl-diver, before venturing into the depths of the -sea, always spends a few moments in deep breathing, and other bodily -preparation. In the excitement of speech, the whirl and hurricane of -emotion, it is necessary that our physical condition should be such as -to bear all the tension put upon it. Mental excitement wears down the -body faster than muscular labor. To meet all its demands we must reserve -our strength for the time it is needed; for any illness will operate as -a direct reduction of the orator’s power, and he must not hope, under -its influence, to realize full success. - -Holyoake makes the following pertinent observations in reference to this -point: - -“Perhaps the lowest quality of the art of oratory, but one on many -occasions of the _first importance_, is a certain robust and radiant -physical health; great volumes of animal heat. In the cold thinness of a -morning audience, mere energy and mellowness is inestimable; wisdom and -learning would be harsh and unwelcome compared with a substantial man, -who is quite a house-warming.” - -The picture painted in romances of a speaker with attenuated form, and -trembling step, scarcely able to sustain his own weight as he ascends -the platform, but who, the moment he opens his lips, becomes -transfigured in the blaze of eloquence, is more poetical than natural. -Let the instrument be in perfect tune, and then can the hand of genius -evoke from it sweet and thrilling music. - -As the time for speaking approaches every fatiguing exertion should be -avoided. - -In the “Rudiments of Public Speaking,” Holyoake gives a passage from his -own experience which well illustrates this: - -“One Saturday I walked from Sheffield to Huddersfield to deliver on the -Sunday two anniversary lectures. It was my first appearance there, and I -was ambitious to acquit myself well. But in the morning I was utterly -unable to do more than talk half inaudibly and quite incoherently. In -the evening I was tolerable, but my voice was weak. My annoyance was -excessive. I was a paradox to myself. My power seemed to come and go by -some eccentric law of its own. I did not find out till years after that -the utter exhaustion of my strength had exhausted the powers of speech -and thought, and that entire repose instead of entire fatigue should -have been the preparation for public speaking.” - -Absolute rest is not generally advisable, for then the preacher would -enter the pulpit with languid mind and slowly beating pulse, and would -require some time to overcome this state. A brisk walk, when the health -is good, will invigorate and refresh all his faculties, and in part -prevent the feebleness and faintness of a listless introduction, by -enabling him to grasp the whole subject at once, and launch right into -the heart of it. Should any one doubt the power of exercise to produce -this effect, let him, when perplexed with difficult questions in his -study, start out over fields and hills, and review the matter in the -open air. If the minister cannot secure this kind of exercise he may -easily find a substitute. If alone, he can pace back and forth, and -swing his arms, until the circulation becomes brisk, and pours a stream -of arterial blood to the brain that will supply all its demands. - -Another simple exercise will often prove of great advantage. It is well -known that many ministers injure themselves by speaking too much from -the throat. This results from improper breathing—from elevating the -upper part of the chest instead of pressing the abdomen downward and -outward, causing the air to pass through the whole length of the lungs. -To breathe properly is always important, and does much to prevent chest -and throat diseases. But it is worthy of the most careful attention on -the part of the speaker, for by it alone can he attain full compass and -range of voice. But in animated extempore speech there is no time to -think of the voice at all, and the only method possible is to make the -right way so habitual that it will be adopted instinctively. This will -be greatly promoted if, just before beginning to speak, we will breathe -deeply a number of times, inflating the lungs completely to their -extremities. - -At this last hour, the speaker must not dwell upon the dangers he is -about to encounter, or picture the desirability of escape from them. He -has taken every precaution and made every preparation. Nothing remains -for him but to put his trust in God, and bravely do his duty. - -The order of opening services is different in the different churches, -but in all they are of great advantage to the minister by overcoming -excessive timidity, and giving an easy introduction to the audience. The -hymn, or psalm, is to be read, which is not a very embarrassing task, -and in doing it he becomes familiar with the sound of his own voice. Yet -it requires many rare qualities to read well. Good sense and modesty are -essential. The theatric method, sometimes admired, exaggerating every -tone, and performing strange acrobatic feats of sound, tends to dispel -the solemn awe and reverence that should gather around the sanctuary. -Let the hymn be read quietly, with room for rise as well as fall, and -all be perfectly natural and unaffected. The sentiment expressed by the -voice should correspond with the meaning of the words. Even in this -preliminary exercise, it is possible to strike a chord that will vibrate -in unison through the hearts of preacher and people. - -Prayer is still more important. When it is read, the same remarks apply -as to the reading of the hymns. Each word should be made the echo of an -inward feeling. But in most American churches prayer is extempore. The -minister addresses heaven in his own words, on behalf of himself and -congregation. The golden rule here is to pray really to God. That -minister had no reason to feel flattered, whose prayer was commended as -the most eloquent ever offered to a Boston congregation! The mass of -humanity before us should only be thought of, in order to express their -wants, and to intercede for them at a throne of grace. The simpler our -language the better it is fitted for this purpose. Gaudy rhetoric, and -even the charm of melodious words, if in the slightest degree sought -for, is out of place. The only praise that should be desired from a -congregation, in regard to their pastor’s prayers, is the acknowledgment -that their holy yearnings and aspirations, as well as their needs, have -been clearly expressed. All beyond this is disgusting. - -Neither should fervid utterance be strained after. If deep emotions -arise, and express themselves in the voice, it is well. But without -these, mere loudness of tone will be empty noise; the prayer will be the -hardest part of the service; and complex metaphors and profuse poetical -quotations will afford very inadequate relief. But if the heart be full -it is easy to pray, and this renders all the remainder of the service -easier. A bond of true spiritual sympathy unites the preacher with all -the good in his congregation, and as he rises to speak, their prayers -are given for his success. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - THE DIVISIONS—INTRODUCTION—DISCUSSION—CONCLUSION. - - -The sermon is the culmination of ministerial labor. Other duties are -important, but preaching is highest of all. Example, conversation, -private influence, only prepare the way for the great Sabbath work. In -it the minister can speak to the assembled multitude with the freedom -and boldness of truth. The believer receives deeper insight into God’s -ways, and directions for his own walk. The careless listen while he -denounces impending wrath and shows the only means of escape. He wields -tremendous power, and if sincere and unselfish, he cannot fail to win -stars for his heavenly crown. - -We will consider the sermon under the three parts of introduction, -discussion and conclusion. It is often divided more minutely, but these -will be sufficient for our purpose. - -Nothing is harder to frame than a good introduction. It is -indispensable, for, however we may approach our subject there is a first -moment when silence is broken and our thoughts introduced. The rustle of -closing hymn books and the subsiding murmur of the audience, tell the -speaker that the time has come. If he be sensitive, or has never spoken -before, his pulse beats fast, his face flushes, an indescribable feeling -of faintness and fear thrills every nerve. He advances to the pulpit, -and reads from the Bible the words that are to be the warrant for his -utterances, and breathing a silent prayer for help, opens his lips, and -hears the tremulous echo of his own voice. - -There is a vast difference between reciting and extemporizing at first, -and the advantage is all on the side of recitation. Every word is in its -proper place, and the speaker is perfectly calm and self-confident. He -is sure that his memory will not fail in the opening, and will usually -throw his whole power into it, causing his voice to ring clear and loud -over the house. But it is different with the extempore speaker. He is -sure of nothing, and the weight of the whole speech is heavy on his -mind. He is glancing ahead, striving to forecast the coming sentences, -as well as caring for those gliding over the tongue, and his first -expressions may be feeble and ungraceful. Yet this display of modesty -and timidity will conciliate the audience and secure their good will. We -can scarcely fail to distinguish an extemporized discourse from a -recited one, by the difference in the introduction alone. - -Some persons commit the opening passages of the sermon, to avoid the -pain and hesitancy of an unstudied beginning. But while this may -accomplish the immediate object, it is apt to be at the expense of the -remaining part of the discourse. The mind cannot pass easily from -recitation to extemporization, and the voice, being too freely used at -first, loses its power. The hearers having listened to highly polished -language, cannot so well relish the plain words that follow, and the -whole sermon, which, like the condor, may have pitched from Alpine -summits, falls fast and far until the lowest level is reached. A written -introduction may be modest and unpretending, but unless it is exactly -like unstudied speech there will be a painful transition. - -A favorite method of avoiding these difficulties is to make no formal -introduction, but plunge at once into the heart of the subject. -Occasionally, this can be done to good advantage, and tends to prevent a -monotonous uniformity. But as a rule it is better to prepare the minds -of our hearers by all needed observations, and gradually lead them to -our subject. - -The introduction should not be left to the chance of the moment. It -requires more careful study than any other part of the sermon, for the -tide of speech, which may afterward bear us over many barriers, is not -then in full flow. But the preparation should be general, and not extend -to the words. A first sentence may be forecast, but much beyond this -will do harm. For the introduction should not be the part of the -discourse longest remembered. It would be better to omit it, than to -have the attention distracted from the main subject. For this reason -nothing far-fetched or hard to be understood should be admitted. But, -beginning with some familiar thought closely connected with the text, it -should remove difficulties and open the whole subject for discussion. - -Much is gained if, at the outset, we can arrest the attention and win -the sympathy of our hearers. They come together from many different -employments, with thoughts fixed on various objects, and it is a -difficult task to remove these distracting influences and cause the -assembly to dwell with intense interest on one subject. Sometimes a -startling proposition will accomplish this end. Earnestness in the -speaker tends powerfully toward it. But sameness must be carefully -avoided. If every sermon is carried through an unvarying number of -always-expressed divisions and subdivisions, the hearer knows what is -coming, and loses all curiosity. We have heard of a minister who made it -a rule to consider the nature, reason and manner of everything he spoke -of. He would ask the questions: “What is it? Why is it? How is it?” The -eloquence of Paul would not many times have redeemed such an -arrangement. - -A considerable degree of inattention is to be expected in every audience -at first, and the speaker’s opening words may be unheard by many and -unheeded by all. It is useless to attempt by violent means and loudness -of voice to awaken them from their indifference. The preacher may safely -bide his time. If his words have weight and his manner indicate -confidence, one by one will listen, until that electric thrill of -sympathy, impossible to describe, but which can be felt as easily as an -accord in music, will vibrate through the hearts of all present. Then -the orator’s power is fully developed, and it is delightful to use it. -This silent, pulsating interest is more to be desired than vehement -applause, for it cannot be counterfeited, and indicates that the hearts -of the assemblage have been reached, and fused by the fires of -eloquence, and are ready to be molded into any desired form. Happy the -minister who has this experience, for if his own heart is enlightened by -the Holy Spirit, he can stamp on the awakened multitude the seal of -undying truth. - -The introduction should be plain, simple and direct. But its very -simplicity renders it more difficult to construct. Preachers who are -great in almost everything else, often fail by making their -introductions too complicated, thus defeating their own purpose as -surely as the engineer who gives his road such steep grades, that no -train can pass over it. Others deliver a string of platitudes that no -one wishes to hear, and the audience grows restive at the very -beginning. - -When from these or other causes, the sermon is misbegun, the -consequences are likely to be serious. The thought is forced home on the -speaker, with icy weight, that he is failing, and this conviction -paralyzes all his faculties. He talks on, but grows more and more -embarrassed. Incoherent sentences drop from him, requiring painful -explanation to prevent them from degenerating into perfect nonsense. The -outline of his plan dissolves into mist. The points he intended to make, -and thought strong and important, now appear very trivial. He blunders -on with little hope ahead. The room may grow dark before him, and in the -excess of his discomfort, he ardently longs for the time when he can -close without absolute disgrace. But, alas! the end seems far off. In -vain he searches for some avenue of escape. There is none. His throat -becomes dry and parched, and the command of his voice is lost. The -audience grow restive, for they are tortured, as well as the speaker, -and if he were malicious he might find some alleviation in this. But he -has no time to think of it, or if he does, it reacts on himself. No one -can help him. At last, in sheer desperation, he cuts the Gordian knot, -and stops—perhaps seizing some swelling sentence, and hurling it as a -farewell volley at the audience—or speaks of the eternal rest, which no -doubt appears very blissful in comparison with his own unrest—then sits -down bathed in sweat, and feeling that he is disgraced forever! If he is -very weak or foolish, he resolves that he will never speak again without -manuscript, or, if wiser, that he will not only understand his -discourse, but how to begin it. - -The passage from the introduction to the discussion should be gradual. -To make the transition smoothly, and strike the subject just at the -right point, continuing the interest that may have been previously -excited, is a most important achievement. A strong, definite purpose -materially assists in this, for it dwells equally in all parts of the -sermon. The object is clearly in view, and we go right up to it with no -wasted words, while the people cheerfully submit to our guidance because -they see that we have an aim before us. But if this be absent we may -steer around our subject, and are never quite ready to enter upon it, -even if we are not wrecked at the outset. A careful preparation of the -plan will do much to prevent this, but it is not enough, for the words -and phrases are not to be prepared. With every precaution, the best of -speakers may fail at this point, and the more brilliant the introduction -the more marked will the failure be. When this danger is safely passed, -he is in the open sea, and the triumphs of eloquence are before him. - -There is great pleasure in speaking well. An assembly hanging on the -words, and thinking the thoughts of a single man, gives to him the most -subtile kind of flattery, and he needs to beware how he yields to its -influence, or his fall will be speedy and disastrous. The triumphs of -oratory are very fascinating. The ability to sway our fellow men at -will—to bind them with the strong chain of our thought, and make them -willing captives—produces a delirious and intoxicating sense of power. -But this is very transient, and unless taken advantage of at the moment, -to work some enduring result, it fades, like the beautiful cloud-work of -morning, before the rising sun. Even during the continuance of a sermon -it is hard to maintain the influence of a happy moment. Persons not -unfrequently give utterance to some great and noble thought, that echoes -in the hearts of the audience, and the nameless thrill of eloquence is -felt, but some irrelevant phrase, or commonplace sentiment dissolves all -the charm. To avoid this, the whole discourse must be of a piece, and -rise in power until the object is accomplished. - -Diffuseness is often supposed to be an essential quality of -extemporaneous speech. It is not such, though many speakers do fall into -it. The reason of this fault is that they are not content to place the -subject in a strong light by one forcible and luminous expression, but -say nearly what they mean, and continue their efforts until they are -satisfied. They furnish no clear view of anything, but give a sort of -twilight intimation of their idea. But serious as this fault is, it may -easily be overcome. Exquisite finish, and elaborate arrangement are not -to be expected in off-hand speech, but we may give force and true -shading to every idea just as well as in writing. - -To express exactly what we mean at the first effort, is one of the -greatest beauties of a spoken style. The hearer is filled with grateful -surprise when some new and living idea is placed before him, clothed in -a single word or sentence. But a diffuse speaker gives so many -premonitions of his thought, that the audience comprehend it before he -is half through the discussion, and are forced to await his ending, in -listless weariness. He never receives credit for an original idea, -because his advances toward it call up the same thought in the mind of -his hearers, and when formally presented it has lost all novelty, and -seems to be trite. - -The same study that will impart the power of condensation in writing -will do it in speech, for it can only be obtained in either by earnest, -persevering effort. Frequently forecast what to say, and drive it into -the smallest possible number of vivid, expressive words; then, without -memorizing the language, reproduce the same thought briefly as possible -in the hurry of speech. It may be less compact than the studied -production, but if so, let the effort be repeated with the knowledge of -where the defect is, and this continued until it can be cast into bold, -well-defined outlines at a single impulse. This process, often repeated, -will give the ability to condense, but in order to exercise it -successfully another quality is needed. We must be able to resist the -seduction of fine language. No sentence should be introduced because it -glitters or sparkles, for a single unnecessary word that requires others -to explain its use, may damage a whole sermon. Let the best words be -chosen with reference to beauty and impressiveness as well as strict -appropriateness, but the latter must never be sacrificed. The danger of -showy language in speech is greater than in a written composition, for -if the writer be drawn too far away, he can go back and begin again, -while the speaker has only one trial. If beauties lie in his way all the -better, but he must never leave his path to search for them. - -Bishop Simpson’s lecture on “The Future of our Country,” was a model of -compactness. Every gaudy ornament was discarded, and short, simple -sentences conveyed ideas that would have furnished a florid speaker with -inexhaustible material. The whole discourse was radiant with true -beauty—the beauty of thought shining through the drapery of words, and -each idea, unweakened by any pause of expectation, struck the mind as -new truth, or the echo of what was felt, but never so well expressed -before. - -We have seen directions for “expanding thought,” and have heard young -speakers admire the ease and skill with which it was done. But thoughts -are not like medicines which require dilution in order to be more -certain in their effects, and more readily taken. It is far better to -give the essence of an idea, and go on to something else. If thoughts -are too few, it is more profitable to dig and delve for others, than to -attenuate and stretch what we have. We need deep, burning, throbbing -conceptions that will live without artificial aid. - -A similar error exists in regard to the kind of language best adapted to -oratory. High-sounding epithets and latinized words are sometimes -supposed to be the proper dress of eloquence. These might give an -impression of our learning or wisdom to an ignorant audience, but could -not strike the chords of living sympathy that link all hearts together. -Language is only available as a medium, so far as hearer and speaker -understand it in common. If we use a term the congregation have seldom -heard, even if they can arrive at its meaning, it will lose all its -force whilst they are striving to understand it. But one of the homely -Saxon words that dwell on the lips of the people, will unlade its -meaning in the heart as soon as its sound strikes the ear. For while -uncommon words erect a barrier around thought, familiar ones are perhaps -not noticed at all, leaving the feeling to strike directly to its mark. - -The only reason why Saxon derivatives are so powerful, is because they -are usually the words of every-day life. But the test of usefulness is -not in etymology. If terms of Latin or French origin have passed into -the life of the people, they will serve the highest purpose of the -orator. Of coarse, all debased and slang words should be rejected. We do -not plead for “the familiarity that breeds contempt.” The two great -requisites in the use of words are, that they should exactly express our -idea, and be familiar to the audience. Melody and association should not -be despised, but they are secondary. - -Every sermon should have strong points upon which especial reliance is -placed. A general has his choice battalions reserved to pierce the -enemy’s line at the decisive moment, and win the battle. It is important -to know how to place these reserved thoughts, that all their weight may -be felt. - -A crisis occurs in nearly every sermon—a moment when a strong argument -or a fervent appeal will produce the result intended, or when failure -becomes inevitable—just as a vigorous charge, or the arrival of -reinforcements, will turn the scale of battle, when the combatants grow -weary and dispirited. The speaker, knowing what his object is, should so -dispose his forces as to drive steadily toward it, and when within -reach, put forth all his power in one mighty effort, achieving the -result for which the whole speech was intended. If neglected, such -chances seldom return, and an hour’s talk may fail to accomplish as much -as one good burning sentence thrown in at the right time. This should be -foreseen, and the idea, which we know to be the key of our discourse, -carefully prepared—in thought, not word. - -Quotations, either in prose or poetry, may be often used to good -advantage, but should be short, appropriate and secondary. The grand -effect of an extempore discourse must not depend on a borrowed passage, -or its character will be changed, and its originality lost. - -We have all along taken it for granted that deep thought underlies the -whole discourse. Without this, a sermon or any serious address deserves -no success. Under some circumstances nothing is expected but sound to -tickle the ear. This is play, while the eloquence of the pulpit is -solemn work. The very fact that the speaker has a solid and worthy -foundation, gives him confidence. He knows that if his words are not -ringing music, he will still have a claim on the attention of his -auditors. - -It is not necessary that our thoughts should extend far beyond the -depths of the common mind, for the most weighty truths lie nearest to -the surface, and within the reach of all. But most men do not dwell long -enough on one subject to understand even its obvious features, and when -these are fully mastered and presented in striking form, it is like a -new revelation. A good illustration of this is found in the sublimity -that Kitto imparts to the journeyings of the Israelites. Very few new -facts are stated, but all are so arranged and vivified by a thoughtful -mind, that the subject grows into new meaning. Let the preacher, by -speaking extempore, save his time for investigation and study, and his -sermons will soon have a charm beyond any jingling combination of words. - -Is the minister, as he stands before a congregation with their eyes -fixed upon him, to expect them to be overwhelmed by his eloquence? Such -a result is possible, but is seldom attained, especially when sought -for. If persons attempt what is beyond their power, the only result will -be to render themselves ridiculous. But good sense and solid usefulness -are within the reach of all. Any man who studies a subject till he knows -more about it than others do, can interest them in a fireside -explanation, if they care for the matter at all. He communicates his -facts in a plain style and they understand him. Many persons will sit -delighted till midnight to hear a man converse, but will go to sleep if -he address them half an hour in public. In the first case he talks, and -is simple and unaffected; in the other he speaks, and uses a style -stiffened up for the occasion. When Henry Clay was asked how he became -so eloquent, he said he knew nothing about it; when he commenced an -address he had only the desire to speak what he had prepared (not -committed), and adhered to this until he was enwrapped in his subject -and carried away, he knew not how. This is a characteristic of the -modern, as opposed to the ancient, school of eloquence. The latter -memorized, while our greatest speakers only arrange, and speak in a -plain, business style, until hurried by the passion of the moment into -bolder flights. If this does not happen, they still give a good and -instructive speech. - -These few considerations may be of use when the speaker stands in the -pulpit, but he must rely on his own tact for the management of details. -Closely observing the condition of the audience, taking advantage of -every favoring circumstance, he moves steadily towards his object. With -an unobstructed road before him, which he has traveled in thought until -it is familiar, he will advance with ease and certainty. As he gazes -into the intent faces around, new ideas arise, and, if fitting, are -woven into what was previously prepared, often with thrilling effect. -Each emotion kindled by sympathy will embody itself in words that touch -the heart as nothing prepared could do, and each moment his own -conviction sinks deeper in the hearts of his hearers. - -There are three principal ways of concluding a sermon. The first, and -most graceful, is to condense a clear view of the whole argument, and -leave the audience with the comprehensive impression thus made. This is -admirably adapted to discourses the principal object of which is to -convince the understanding. To throw the whole sweep of the argument, -every point of which has been enforced, into a few telling, easily -remembered sentences, will go far to make the impression permanent. - -The old plan of closing with an exhortation, is perhaps the most -generally beneficial. An application is the same thing in substance, -only a little less pungent and personal. In it the whole sermon is made -to bear on the duty of the moment. It should be closely connected with -what went before; for a general exhortation, fitting the end of every -sermon, cannot well apply to any. All the sermon should be gathered up, -as it were, and hurled as a solid mass into the hearts and consciences -of those whom we wish to affect, thus making it a real “thrust,” of -which the exhortation is the barbed point. It should be short, and no -new matter introduced at the time the audience are expecting the end. - -The third method is to break off when the last item is finished. If the -lines of the argument are few and simple, or so strong that they cannot -fail to be remembered, there is no need to recapitulate them. And if the -exhortation has kept pace with the progress of the sermon, there is no -place for it at the close. If both these coincide, a formal conclusion -would be a superfluity. It is only necessary to finish the development -of the plan, care being taken that the last idea discussed shall be one -of dignity and importance. This is simply stopping when done, and is -certainly an easy method of closing, though, in practice, too often -neglected. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - AFTER CONSIDERATIONS—SUCCESS—REST—IMPROVEMENT. - - -When we have concluded a fervent discourse, especially if successful, -there comes a feeling of inexpressible relief. For the burden of a -speech accumulates on the mind, from the time the subject is chosen, -until it grows almost intolerable. When we begin to speak all our powers -are called into play, and exerted to the limit of their capacity. The -excitement of the conflict hurries us on, and although we may not -realize the gigantic exertions we put forth, yet when we pause, with the -victory won, the sense of relief and security is exceedingly delightful. -Yet we must not indulge too deeply in the self-gratulation so natural at -such a moment. If we have conquered, it has been in God’s name, not our -own, and the first thing to be done is to offer him thanks for our -preservation. This is but the complement of the prayers made at the -beginning of the service, for if we ask help with fear and trembling, -before the real perils of speech begin, it would be very wrong, in the -hour of triumph, to cease to remember the arm upon which we leaned. But -by pouring out our thankfulness to God, we are at the same time -preserved from pride and undue exaltation, and encouraged to depend upon -Him more fully the next time we speak. - -If the effort has been an earnest one, both mind and body need rest. -There are speakers who profess to feel no fatigue after an hour’s labor, -but these seldom occupy a place in the first class. If the soul has -really been engaged, and all the powers of mind and body bent to the -accomplishment of a great object, relaxation must follow, and often a -sense of utter prostration. It is well, if possible, to abandon -ones-self to the luxury of rest—that utter repose so sweet after severe -labor. Even social intercourse should be avoided. A short sleep, even if -only for a few minutes, will afford great relief, and it is much to be -regretted that circumstances so often interfere with the enjoyment of -such a luxury. After the morning service, especially if the minister has -to preach again in the evening, all labor, even in the Sabbath-school, -should be avoided, although, before preaching, such toil will only form -a grateful introduction to the duties of the day. No practice is more -pernicious than that of inviting the minister to meet company, at -dinner-parties or elsewhere, immediately after service. This is -objectionable for two reasons; the conversation at such parties seldom -accords with the sanctity of the Sabbath, and if unexceptionable in this -respect, a continued tax is made upon the already exhausted brain—a tax -greater during such a state of relaxation and languor, than ten-fold the -labor would be at another period. Let the preacher, when he can, retire -to the privacy of his own home, and there enjoy the freedom of -untrammelled rest. - -It is well to ponder closely the lessons derived from each new -experience in speaking. The minister can never exactly measure his own -success, and may often lament as a failure that effort which has -accomplished great good. He has in his mind an ideal of excellence by -which he estimates his sermons. If this be placed very low, he may -succeed in coming up to it, or even pass beyond it, without -accomplishing anything worthy of praise. But in such a case he is apt to -be well satisfied with the result. And often the sermons with which we -are least pleased, are really the best. For in the mightiest efforts of -mind the standard is placed very high—sometimes beyond the limit of -possible attainment, and the speaker works with his eye fixed upon the -summit, and often, after all his exertions, sees it shining above him -still, and closes with the conviction that his ideas are but half -expressed. He feels mortified that there should be such difference -between conception and execution. But his hearers, who have been led -over untrodden fields of thought, know nothing of the heights still -above the orator’s head, and are filled with enthusiasm, or have -received new impulses to good. This is the reason why we are least able -to judge of the success of sermons that have been long meditated, and -are thoroughly prepared. The subject expands as we study it, and its -outlines become grander and vaster, until they pass beyond our power of -representation. And each separate thought that is mastered also becomes -familiar, and is not valued at its full worth by the speaker. If he had -begun to speak without thought, intending to give only the easy and -common views of his subject, all would have been fresh to him, and if a -striking idea presented itself, its novelty would have enhanced its -appreciation. This is no reason against diligent preparation, but rather -a strong argument in favor of it. It should only stimulate us to improve -our powers of expression as well as of conception. - -But with all these sources of uncertainty in our judgment of our own -productions, we should not be indifferent to our perceptions of success -or failure. In the greater number of instances will be correct, and we -can very frequently discover the cause of either, and use this knowledge -to future profit. - -Even if we imagine our failure to be extreme, we have no need to feel -unduly discouraged. God can, and does, often work with the feeblest -instruments, and the sermon we despise may accomplish its purpose. The -writer preached one evening when very weary, and almost unprepared. From -first to last a painful effort was required to find anything to say, and -to prevent utter failure the intended plan had to be abandoned, and new, -detached thoughts thrown in as they could be found. And yet that -discourse, which was scarcely worthy of the name, elicited warmer -approval, and apparently accomplished more good, than any one from the -same preacher ever given at that point. But such instances should never -lead us to neglect all the preparation in our power, for usually when -failure springs from a real defect, the verdict of the people will -coincide with our own. - -However we may judge of our success it is not wise to ask any of our -hearers for their opinion. We may observe any indications of the effect -produced, and, if the criticisms of others are offered spontaneously, it -is not necessary to repulse them, especially if they are marked by a -spirit of candor and good will; but all seeking for commendation is -debasing. It is sweet to hear our sermons praised, and most of men can -endure an amount of flattery addressed to themselves, that would be -disgusting if applied to others; but if we indulge this disposition it -will become ungovernable, and expose us to well-deserved ridicule. It is -pitiable to see a man who is mighty in word and thought, who wields the -vast powers of eloquence, stooping to beg crusts of indiscriminate -praise from his hearers. Nothing contributes more to destroy our -influence, and make our audience believe that we are merely actors, -unaffected by the sublime truths we declare. - -It is well to think over our sermons after they have been preached, and -if any defect appear, amend it in the plan, and add all the new ideas -that may have been suggested during speech. This prepares us to preach -still better when we have occasion to use the same plan a second time. - -Some ministers are accustomed to write their sermons after delivery. -This may do well, especially when the theme is of great importance, but -in general, it is questionable whether the advantage is great enough to -warrant the expenditure of so much time. - -But to review and correct a verbatim report of our sermons would be far -more profitable. If some short-hand writer—a member of our family, or -any other who is willing to take so much trouble—will preserve our words -for us, a revisal of them on Monday would be of immense benefit. The -offensiveness of pet phrases, which we might otherwise be unconscious of -for years, would be detected at once. Faults of expression, and -especially the profuseness of words, in which extempore speakers are apt -to indulge, would be forced upon our notice; and if any really valuable -ideas occurred, they could be preserved. There would be little use in -writing the sermon over in full, for we would commonly find that it -might be reduced to one-third or one-fourth its bulk without material -injury. The habitual condensation of our sermons after delivery, would -teach us to express our thoughts compactly even in speech. - -The only difficulty in applying this capital means of improvement, is -the small number of persons who can write short-hand with sufficient -rapidity—a difficulty that may be less in the future than it has been in -the past, and can now be obviated by the minister’s wife or daughters, -who may have sufficient perseverance and devotion to master the -laborious, but precious art for his sake. - - - - - PART III. - MISCELLANEOUS ADDRESSES. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - INSTRUCTIVE ADDRESS. - - -We will give only a brief consideration to the various fields of oratory -outside the pulpit, because the greater number of principles already -laid down can be applied, with slight modifications, to any kind of -speech. The different varieties of secular address may be divided as -follows: - - I. Instructive Oratory. - II. Legal Oratory. - III. Deliberative Oratory. - IV. Popular Oratory. - V. Controversial Oratory. - -We apply the first term to all oral teaching, more connected than -question and answer, and to all lectures that have instruction for their -primary object. This species of discourse differs from the sermon in the -absence of persuasion, rather than in its positive character. The -lecturer should thoroughly understand the topic he attempts to unfold, -and place it in the clearest possible light. Much illustration is -needed, for the subject is usually a novel one to the greater portion of -the audience, and can be best explained by comparison with familiar -objects. It should have its strong central points, which can be easily -remembered, and around which the minor parts of the discourse may be -grouped, for if the whole consist of isolated facts poured forth without -generalization or arrangement, no distinct impression will be left. - -Appeals to passion and emotion are less necessary in lectures than in -most other kinds of speech. Yet so closely are heart and intellect -connected, that we can arouse attention, and secure a more durable -result, if the facts we narrate are linked with the experiences and -emotions of life. - -The practice of writing is even more prevalent when applied to lectures -than to sermons, and the reasons urged in its favor have more -plausibility. As the lecturer does not aim to move his hearers to -immediate action, the advantages of direct address are less required. -Still he wishes to interest them, and it may be questioned whether this -can, in any case, be so well accomplished from manuscript. But it is -urged that in a scientific lecture there is often too great a number of -detached facts to be easily remembered. This may be true, but it -suggests another important question: if they cannot be recalled by the -speaker who has reviewed them again and again for days together, how can -it be expected that those who only hear them read over once, will retain -any distinct impression? A clearer generalization of the whole -discourse, and a proper arrangement of each fact under the principle -which it illustrates, would go far to obviate both difficulties. Yet, in -the use of statistics or other items, about which the speaker wishes to -be precise, though he may only care to give the audience a general -conception of them, notes will be a great relief to the memory, and the -statement of principles deduced can be still made in direct address. - -After a man has become so famous that each word he utters will be -listened to with profound attention, because it comes from him, he may -write safely. This is especially the case with those who have become -authorities in their own departments of knowledge. What they say is -received rather as a conclusion to argument, than as an assertion to be -weighed, and the calm, deliberate reading of such final statements has -all needed impressiveness. But if we have not attained this position, we -had better employ every legitimate means to interest our audiences. - -It is often claimed by the advocates of reading, that a literary lecture -must be written to secure the polish and smoothness needful in the -treatment of such themes. It will not do, say they, to give, in our -words and manner, an illustration of the absence of the very qualities -we praise. But surely men can speak on a subject they understand in good -grammar and fitting language, without having first placed each word on -paper! And if they attempt much beyond this they lead the mind of the -hearer from the subject to a consideration of the skill of the lecturer. -We are ready to grant that compositions should be read, not spoken, when -ever they cease to instruct about something else, and become an -exhibition in themselves. A poet is right in reading his poem; and even -in prose, if we wish to call attention to our melodious words, and our -skill in literary composition, instead of the subject we have nominally -taken, it will be well to write. But the resulting composition will not -be a lecture. - -The field for instructive lectures is constantly enlarging. In former -times they were monopolized by university professors, and very few -persons sought to teach the people. But this has changed. There are now -many more schools where courses of lectures are given on various topics, -and every town of any pretension has its annual lecture course. Even -these are not sufficient to meet the increasing demand, and, as every -community cannot pay Beecher or Gough from one to five hundred dollars -for an evening’s entertainment, there is abundant scope for humbler -talent. Strolling lecturers, without character or knowledge, reap a rich -harvest from the credulity of the people. Even the noble science of -phrenology is often disgraced by quacks, who perambulate the country and -pretend to explain its mysteries—sometimes telling character and -fortunes at the same time. So far has this prostitution of talent and -opportunity gone, that the village lecturer is often placed in a -category with circus clowns and negro minstrels. But this should not be, -and no class could do more to prevent it than the clergy. If they would -each prepare a lecture or two upon some important subject they have -mastered, they could extend their usefulness, and teach others besides -their own flocks. - -Lecturers are becoming more numerous and popular. New sciences and arts -are continually springing into being, and there is no way that a -knowledge of them can be so readily diffused among the masses of the -people, as by public addresses upon them. Even the oldest of the -sciences—Astronomy—has been brought to the knowledge of thousands who -otherwise would have remained in ignorance of its mysteries. It was thus -that the lamented General O. M. Mitchel succeeded in awakening public -interest, and in securing funds for the erection of his observatory at -Cincinnati. - -Benefit lectures are very common. In these the services of the lecturer -are given gratis, or for a nominal compensation, and persons are induced -to purchase tickets that some good cause may be benefited by the -proceeds. This is the most pleasant of compromises, and is surely better -than fairs, gift drawings, etc., although when the patronage of the -public is thus secured for a lecture that has no real merit, the benefit -is more questionable. - -The most important point in a lecture is that the subject be thoroughly -understood, and so arranged that there may be no difficulty in grasping -the whole thought. Vivacity and life will prevent the audience from -growing weary; wit, if it be true and delicate, will add to the -interest, and has a far larger legitimate sphere than in a sermon. -Ornaments, too, may abound, provided they do not call attention away -from the subject, or weaken the force of expression. The plan of a -lecture may be constructed in a manner similar to that of a sermon, as -the end in view is not very different. If this be well arranged, and all -the principles, facts and illustrations be properly placed, no need of -writing will be felt. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - MISCELLANEOUS ADDRESS—LEGAL—DELIBERATE—POPULAR—CONTROVERSIAL. - - -The speech adapted to the bench and bar presents some peculiar features. -The lawyer deals with facts and living issues. He works for immediate -results, and therefore uses the means best adapted to secure them. The -use of manuscript, which increases in proportion as we remove from the -sphere of passion, finds no place when life and property are at stake. -The lawyer who would read his appeal to the jury in an exciting case, -would have few others to make. At the bar the penalty for inefficiency -is so rapid and certain, that every nerve is strained to avoid it. To -argue with a lawyer against the use of written discourses, would be like -proving the advantage of commerce to an Englishman. His danger lies in -the opposite direction—that of caring too little for polish, and of -making the verdict of the jury his only aim. - -A lawyer should never contend for what he believes to be wrong. Yet the -common estimate of the morality of attorneys is not based on fact. They -may have greater temptations than some others, and many of them may -fall, but another reason than this accounts for the grave imputations -cast on them. In every suit, at least one party must be disappointed, -and it is natural that, in his bitterness, he should throw discredit on -all the agencies by which his hopes were destroyed. But this is most -frequently groundless. The lawyer may be counsel for a man whom he knows -to be in the wrong, but he ought never to take his stand on a false -position. He may show any weakness in his adversary’s case, and see that -all the provisions of the law are faithfully complied with, but must not -endeavor to distort the truth. An adherence to this determination will -soon give his words a power and influence that will more than -counterbalance all disadvantages. Let him seek for the strong points in -his own case, and then throw them into the simplest and boldest shape, -not forgetting the importance of appealing to the heart, as well as -head, of judge and jury. - -The judge differs from the advocate in having both sides of the case to -present, and in seeking truth rather than victory. As he stands upon the -law, and unfolds its dictates, which are obeyed as soon as known, he has -no need to appeal to passion, and can give his words with all calmness -and certainty. - -Under the most absolute monarchy there are always some things that men -are left to settle according to their own pleasure, and when a number of -persons have equal interest and authority this can only be done by -discussion. In our own land the people bear rule, and the field of -deliberation is almost infinitely widened. City councils, State and -national legislatures, the governing societies of churches, parties, -companies, and all organizations, have more or less of power to be -exercised. If this were vested in a single will, silent pondering would -determine each question, but in assemblies these must be decided by -discussion, argument and vote.[1] - -Footnote 1: - - See rules for these in Appendix. - -There is one general peculiarity that marks the speeches addressed to -such a body; their main object is to give information. All are about to -act, and are supposed to be diligently looking for the best course to be -taken. This secures an interest in everything that really throws new -light on the subject, while it often renders such an assemblage -intolerant of mere declamation. In representative bodies there is also -constant reference to the opinions and wishes of those for whom they -act. - -Such speeches are frequently intended to be read beyond the bounds of -the audience where they are delivered, and for this reason are often -elaborately prepared, and read at first. If they do truly give -information, either in reference to principles or facts, they suffer -from this less than any other class of addresses. They may be dry and -unattractive in form, but if each concerned, feels that he is obtaining -new facts for guidance, he will listen with patience. Yet, even then, a -greater impression would be produced if the same accuracy and sureness -of statement were embodied in spoken words. Let there first, be broad, -statesmanlike views, a clear comprehension of the effects of measures, -and perfect confidence in what we advocate, and then all the graces of -speech may be added with the certainty that their effect will be that -always produced by true eloquence. - -A popular address differs from a lecture in having an element of -persuasion in it. In fact, this is its principal characteristic. When we -desire to incline the hearts of the people to some favorite cause, we -assemble them together, and labor by all the arguments we can command, -to induce them to adopt our views and enter on the course we recommend. -Energy and earnestness are the qualities most uniformly successful. The -people care little for the subtile niceties of speech, but they require -that the man who addresses them should believe what he says, and feel -the power of his own reasoning. A deep, strong, unfaltering conviction -is always an element of strength. - -Many speakers think it an advantage to flatter the prejudices of the -people, but they are mistaken. Temporary applause may be won, but second -thoughts are apt to detect the lurking insincerity, even if they do not -overthrow the prejudice itself If the speaker be really under the -influence of the same misconception as the audience, this is a different -matter, for hearty devotion, even to the wrong, is contagious. But calm -reasoning and truth are always best. These gave Abraham Lincoln the -superiority over Stephen A. Douglas, making him more effective with the -people than the latter was, not withstanding his fervid eloquence. The -one appealed to the reason of the people, the other to passion. - -Humor has a place in the popular address not second to any other -quality. A telling anecdote, or a good illustration (the homelier the -better, if it be not coarse), will arrest attention and dwell longer on -the memory, than the strongest argument. - -Controversial oratory partakes of the nature of a battle, but should be -something more than strife for victory. There is little danger of -languid attention in this species of address, for opposition arouses -both speaker and hearer. - -The golden rule in all controversies, is to be certain of a solid basis -of fact, and follow the guidance of true principles. Then we deserve -success. But fair means only should be employed. It is so hard to see an -adversary triumph even, when convinced of the correctness of his -position, that we can scarcely forbear employing every artifice to -prevent such a result. But we should never misrepresent our opponent. -Even if he has been unfortunate in his explanations, and leaves the way -open for a natural misconception, we should use our best efforts to -understand what he really means, and give him the credit of that. We -must also allow his reasoning its due force. No just argument ought ever -to be weakened. Let us bring forward our views, and, if possible, show -that they are truer and more firmly based than his. And if we see that -this cannot be done, there is only one manly course left—to surrender at -discretion. If we cannot maintain our views by clear proof, we should -abandon them, and seek others that need no questionable support. - - - - - PART IV. - EMINENT EXTEMPORE SPEAKERS. - - AUGUSTINE—LUTHER—CHATHAM—PITT—BURKE—MIRABEAU—PATRICK - HENRY—WHITEFIELD—WESLEY—SIDNEY SMITH—F. W. - ROBERTSON—CLAY—BASCOM—SUMMERFIELD—SPURGEON—H. W. - BEECHER—BINGHAM—GLADSTONE—SIMPSON—WENDELL PHILLIPS—J. P. DURBIN. - - - - - EMINENT SPEAKERS. - - - USE OF EXAMPLES. - -Notwithstanding the popularity of unwritten speech, and the innumerable -arguments in its favor, there is an impression in some quarters that the -very highest excellence cannot be attained without the previous use of -the pen. It may be shown that it is more natural to find the words in -which our thoughts are clothed at the moment of expression; that a -stronger and better frame-work of thought can be constructed, if the -mind, in preparing for speech, is occupied with that alone; that the -speaker and hearer may thus be brought into closer union; that this, in -short, is the order of nature, which leaves the solid frame-work of the -tree standing through many winters, but each spring bestows its graceful -robe of leaves upon that which was prepared to receive it. But this is -not enough to produce lasting conviction. It is still maintained, almost -with obstinacy, that in the highest fields of oratory, words must be -previously chosen, fitted together, and polished. - -This nearly every speech-writer proves from his own experience. The -efforts that have afforded him most satisfaction were those in which -nothing had been left to the chance of the moment. But it is easy to see -how even experience may mislead in this particular. We can judge the -comparative merits of another in his different modes of address with -some approach to accuracy, for our mental state—that of -listeners—continues the same under them all. But it is different when we -judge ourselves. When we extemporize, our best expressions fade from the -mind after they have been given forth, and can only be recalled by a -strong effort. On the other hand, when we have wrought our language -slowly, and lingered over each sentence, we see all the beauty it -contains, and begin to admire our own production. If we see anything -faulty, instead of lamenting it, as we would an unfortunate, spoken -sentence, we change it, and take credit for the keenness of our critical -taste. Is it wonderful that when we come before an audience with an -address made as nearly perfect as we can construct it in every line, and -the whole clearly written, or firmly engraved on the memory, and then -repeat it, with a full appreciation of each beauty as we pass along, -that we consider it to be of far higher merit than the impassioned -torrent poured forth on another occasion, when we scarcely knew that we -were using words at all? If the people do not seem to appreciate it, -their want of taste and culture affords a ready excuse for them, even if -the speaker is not too much occupied with his own eloquence to notice -them at all. He is always ready, too, with the examples of Massillon and -Bossuet, or of Chalmers, to prove that it was thus the most powerful -orators spoke. - -We do not deny that great effects may be produced, under certain -circumstances, by committed words. The fact that many actors have won -great fame by repeating the words of others, proves how much may be done -in this direction. It is but reasonable, that if some gifted minds can -thrill an audience to tears, and rouse every feeling to its highest bent -by merely copying others, that those who, in addition to this ability, -possess the power of framing their own thoughts in suitable words, may -accomplish as much. John B. Gough is an instance of the power that may -be wielded in this manner. But such men cannot occupy the highest -position in the temple of fame. They are but actors. When they speak -they will be listened to with eagerness and pleasure, as great -performers always are, but it will be as performers rather than as -authorities. They have placed themselves on a level with those who deal -in unreal things, and there they must be content to remain. Doubtless it -is more noble to speak the sentiments and feelings that we once -possessed, in the language adapted to _that_ time, than to deal in those -belonging to another person, but the resemblance between the two is very -close, and the people feel it so acutely that they make no -discrimination. - -But we maintain that even in momentary effect—the quality which is -supposed to belong peculiarly to the powerful declamation of prepared -language—extempore speakers have passed beyond all others; while in -power of thought and lasting influence, there can be no comparison. -There is no single quality of speech that cannot be reached as well -without writing as with it, while perpetual readiness, vast and profound -knowledge (which writing extensively leaves no time to acquire), and -weight and authority with the people, belong almost exclusively to the -extemporizer. - -These assertions may seem bold to many, but we are prepared to -substantiate them. In the preceding pages we have aimed to show how this -species of address may be acquired, and improved to an almost unlimited -degree. The ideal thus sketched is not an impossible or imaginary one. -It has often been attained, and for the encouragement of those who may -be disposed to throw away their manuscripts, and trust to the method of -nature, the following examples are selected. These are chosen because of -their eminence, and also because of the wide variety of qualities -displayed in their eloquence. Many more might be given, but these are -sufficient for our purpose, which is to show that in every department of -speech the highest eloquence that ever flowed from the lips of men has -clothed itself in unpremeditated words. - -In these sketches we, of course, make no pretension to originality, but -have compiled what was adapted to our purpose from every available -source. And as the matter so obtained has been frequently abridged, and -two or three different accounts woven together, it has sometimes been -impossible to give full credit. We are under especial obligation to the -“New American Cyclopedia,” Mosheim’s Church History, Stevens’s History -of Methodism, Harsha’s “Orators and Statesmen,” “Kidder’s Homiletics,” -with the current biographies of the speakers treated of. - -Much of the oratory of antiquity was recited. This has been used as an -argument to prove the comparative inferiority of that speech which is -the offspring of the moment, forgetting the great difference between -ancient and modern life—a difference arising from the greater diversity -of the latter, and the nobler aims to which it gives birth. The typical -Grecian oration is as much a work of art as a statue. It was made to be -admired, and if, by the beauty of its arrangement, the melody of its -language, and the elegance of its delivery, this object was achieved, -the orator was satisfied. It was so, to a less degree, in the classic -age of Rome. The form of the oration was of greater importance than its -matter, and it was judged that this would be best perfected by the use -of the pen, and of the memory. Yet the practice of antiquity on this -point was far from uniform. Some of the noblest orators spoke extempore, -and have less fame than those who adopted the opposite plan, only -because at that time the art of reporting was too imperfect to preserve -their eloquence. The effect they produced remains, and from it we obtain -a faint view of their greatness. Pericles spoke without previous -writing, and the sway his speech established over his countrymen was -more undisputed than that of Demosthenes. The latter had an assemblage -of talents that, with his tireless industry, would have made him eminent -in any mode of address that he might have adopted; but even he did not -recite exclusively. - -The great rival of Cicero, Hortensius, whose wonderful power excited the -emulation of the former, spoke from the impulse of the moment, as did -many of the more eminent of the Roman orators. Cicero was a man of -tireless energy. He applied himself to the study and practice of -eloquence with a singleness of aim, and a concentration of purpose that -may well command our admiration. He accumulated vast stores of -knowledge, perfected his logic, and improved his voice until it became -music, and brought all the resources of a mighty mind to bear on -oratory. It is not wonderful that he was listened to with profound -attention, while he recited what he had previously composed. But some of -his most brilliant passages were extemporaneous. The outburst that -overwhelmed Catiline when he unexpectedly appeared in the senate, was -coined, at white heat, by the passion of the moment. - -The reason why so many of the ancients committed their speeches, was -because they could not be preserved otherwise, unless the orator could -remember and write down what he had said. Every unwritten speech -perished, and left nothing but a dim memory of the results it had -produced. This is the reason why the extempore speakers of the ancient -world are less known than the reciters. But the art of short-hand has -effected a revolution in this particular, and the most impassioned -speeches are now photographed for the admiration of future generations. -The man who wishes his speech preserved is no longer compelled to write -it. - - - EARLY PREACHING IN THE CHURCH. - -We may be sure that the preaching of Christ and the Apostles was without -notes. It seems scarcely less than profanation to picture even the -latter as reading from a previously prepared manuscript, after they had -been promised the help of the Spirit in the hour when help was needed; -and it is inconceivable that the Saviour should have taken any other -mode of imparting His wisdom to men, than that of direct address. Paul -deprecated the eloquence of mere words, although the sketch of his -sermon on Mars’ Hill, with other addresses, shows that he did not -neglect the eloquence of thought, and the strength of orderly, logical -arrangement. We have no direct evidence of the manner of preaching in -the first century, but from all intimations we are led to conclude that -sermons were composed without the use of the pen, and consisted of easy, -familiar scripture expositions and deductions of moral lessons. Origen, -the most celebrated divine of the third century, preached without -manuscript, and Eusebius says of him: - - “Then, as was to be expected, our religion spreading more and more, - and our brethren beginning to converse more freely with all, Origen, - who they say was now more than sixty years of age, and who, from - long practice, had acquired great facility in discoursing, permitted - his discourses to be taken down by ready writers, a thing which he - had never allowed before.” - -This shows not only that he had been accustomed to preach extempore, but -that he would not permit the sketches of his sermons which could be made -by the imperfect reporting of that day, to be published until late in -life. This would be very natural, when unstudied explanation was the -main object of the address, but very unnatural if the sermon had been -written according to the rules of rhetorical composition. In the sermons -of Chrysostom there are many passages which could not, from their -nature, have been precomposed, and these are among the most brilliant of -all. But Augustine, who flourished in the fourth century, affords us a -still more conclusive proof of the power of the natural mode of address. - - - AUGUSTINE. - -The father of this great man was a pagan, but his mother was a -Christian. She was a most remarkable woman, and from her he doubtless -inherited some of the strongest elements of his character. Her prayers -for his conversion were almost continual, but for many years produced no -apparent result. He plunged into many excesses, and lived a most -irregular life, but from this he was aroused by the death of his father, -and by the study of philosophy. For a time the latter seemed to satisfy -his ardent mind, but soon he saw its insufficiency, became an earnest -searcher for truth, and explored the writings of the sages of antiquity -without being able to find anything on which he could rest. The problems -of life pressed upon him with a terrible weight, and he was too profound -a thinker to be satisfied with any superficial explanation. The doctrine -of the ancient Persians—that of the two antagonistic principles of good -and evil in the world—for a while charmed his imagination, but its -influence over him soon passed away. During all this time he was rising -in fame as a teacher of rhetoric and eloquence, and had established a -school in Rome which became widely celebrated. - -His reputation as a teacher caused him to be summoned to Milan, where -the Emperor then was. The great preacher, Ambrose, then in the zenith of -his power, officiated in that city. Augustine heard him, and felt that -his doubts were answered. But it required a terrible struggle before he -could yield, and it was only after he had passed the whole series of -Christian doctrines in review, and tested them by all his mighty power -of argument, that he at last reposed in the truth. The joy of his good -mother can scarcely be conceived at this answer to her unceasing prayer, -and she soon passed away triumphantly. He spent a short period in -seclusion and profound meditation, was then baptized, and four years -after began to preach. - -The success of Augustine was as great in preaching as it had been in -teaching, and he was promoted to the office of Bishop. His power was -soon felt all over the Christian world. He at once entered on a course -of labor like that of Whitefield and Wesley, but still more varied. He -preached once every day, and sometimes twice; visited the sick and poor -with great assiduity; governed his diocese wisely; was the Christian -champion against almost innumerable forms of heresy all over the world; -composed some most beautiful hymns; wrote extensive commentaries that -are still valued; kept up a vast correspondence with emperors, kings, -and church dignitaries everywhere; and indited works of theology, -literature, criticism, and philosophy in immense profusion. Some of -these will live as long as the language in which they are written is -known. For thirty-five years he remained at his post, and died at last, -while his city was beleagured by a barbarian army, in time to escape -witnessing the ruin that burst on the flock he had so long loved and -served. - -The power of Augustine as a preacher can scarcely be overrated. -Everywhere the people flocked to hear him, and the most enduring fruits -followed his ministry. His sermons were not calculated simply to win -admiration for the preacher, but pointed to the holier life, and led men -to love and strive after it. He was the real founder of what is known at -the present day as Calvinism, and by his vast power made it the -prevailing doctrine of the church for centuries after his death. There -can be no question about his sincerity and earnestness, and just as -little regarding the influence of his solemn eloquence. He quieted -tumults, changed the opinions of whole towns, and wielded assemblies at -his will. He left a large number of sermons in a fragmentary condition, -but fully justifying all that his contemporaries have written of him. - -It is not possible that such a man should have read or recited his -discourses. To have done so would have left him no time for such grand -works as the “Confessions,” “City of God,” and others too numerous to -mention, which will endure while the world stands. But he has not left -us in doubt as to his mode of preaching. He enjoins the “Christian -teacher” to make his hearers comprehend what he says, “to read in the -eyes and countenances of his auditors whether they understand him or -not, and to repeat the same thing by giving it different terms, till he -perceives that it is understood, an advantage which those cannot have -who, by a servile dependence on their memories, learn their sermons by -heart, and repeat them as so many lessons. Let not the preacher become -the servant of words; rather let words be servants to the preacher.” In -his charity, however, he does allow of reciting under certain -circumstances. “Those who are destitute of invention, but can speak -well, provided they select well written discussions of another man and -commit them to memory for the instruction of their hearers, will not do -badly if they take this course.” - - - LUTHER. - -The name of Luther is so well known that it will not be necessary to -give more than a very brief sketch of his wonderful life. The peasant, -who was raised by his virtues to more than kingly power, and to be the -leader of the greatest religious movement of modern times, cannot be a -stranger to the world. Luther was bred in the midst of poverty and -almost of want. As he grew older, his father, who was a kind-hearted, -though stern man, began to rise in the world, and found means to send -him to school. The patronage of a wealthy lady named Cotta, was also of -great benefit to him. He was distinguished very early for quickness and -profundity of intellect, and the highest hopes were formed of him. But -in the midst of flattering prospects, he was deeply convicted of sin, -and terrified concerning his spiritual state. After he had spent a long -time in mental struggles, full of agony, he resolved to become a monk, -as the surest way of allaying all doubt, and obtaining the spiritual -rest for which he longed. His father never forgave this step, until his -son stood in direct opposition to the power of Rome. But the ardent -heart of Luther could not find peace in the dull routine of a convent -life, and every spiritual trial was redoubled. At last, while he was -reading in an old copy of the Bible, which he had found in the library -of the convent, the great doctrine of justification by faith dawned upon -him with all the freshness of a new revelation. He at once began to -teach the people the same blessed doctrine, with the most gratifying -results. His preaching was marked by great power, and soon his sphere -widened. He was made a doctor of divinity in the University of -Wittenberg, and began to lecture on Paul’s Epistles, and the Psalms. He -was still a devoted adherent of Rome, although he taught the students -under his care to look to the Scriptures as the fountain of all -authority. But the germs of the Reformation were already hid in his own -mind, and it only required circumstances to bring them into vigorous -life. - -These were soon supplied. When a monk came to Wittenberg, selling -pardons for every kind of sin, even that which was to be committed, -Luther felt it his duty to warn the people against any dependence on -such sources of forgiveness. The Pope took part with the monk in the -strife that followed; and the contest went from one point to another, -until the Pope hurled a decree of excommunication at Luther, which he -burned, in the presence of his adherents, as a token of defiance and -contempt. The reformation spread wonderfully, and although surrounded on -every side by threatenings and enemies, the life of this great man was -spared, and for years he exerted an influence in Germany not second to -that of the Emperor himself. When he fell at last, in the midst of his -labors, the people mourned for him as for a personal benefactor. - -All through his life, Luther had the secret of reaching the hearts of -the people in a wonderful manner. No other of the great men who abounded -at that time possessed a tithe of his power in this respect. It has been -said “that his words were half battles.” His discourses were not smooth -or graceful, yet it was not for want of ability to secure these -qualities, for he had great command of every style of language, and -loved softer and more ornamented speech in others; but he was too much -in earnest, with an empire, and the vastest hierarchy the world ever -saw, arrayed against him, to stay to use them. Whenever he preached the -people would flock together from great distances, and listen as to a -prophet, while he unfolded the grand and simple plan of salvation in the -plainest words. He had every element of a great preacher. His -imagination was most vivid, and he did not fail to use it to the utmost. -He could paint a scene in all the completeness of action before his -hearers, and awaken their tears or smiles at his will. He used no -manuscript, but spoke from the vast fulness of knowledge he possessed on -every subject. His pen was employed as well as his voice. By it he not -only produced a great number of books that advanced the cause of the -Reformation almost as much as his spoken efforts, but by the combination -of the two methods of expression, writing to meet the eye and speaking -for the ear, he taught himself both accuracy and readiness, and was thus -prepared for the part he was called upon to act. Added to these, were -his strong emotions, and indomitable will, which gave him an energy that -bore every thing before him. For beauty and grace in themselves he cared -nothing, but when they came unbidden, as they often did, they were -welcome. He rightly estimated his own character and work when he said -“that he was rough, boisterous, stormy, and altogether warlike; born to -fight innumerable devils and monsters, to remove stumps and stones, to -cut down thistles and thorns, and to clear the wild woods.” - - - LORD CHATHAM. - -It may well be doubted whether the eloquence of this great and wonderful -man did not surpass that of either Cicero or Demosthenes. It is certain -that the effects he repeatedly produced have never been surpassed. And -he had not to deal with a populace easily moved, although cultivated in -some particulars, as they had; but his mightiest triumphs were won in -the British Parliament, from an acute, critical, and often hostile -assembly. His example, with that of his son, who was almost equally -great, afford an irrefutable answer to those who doubt the capacity of -unwritten speech to convey impressions as mighty as any ever produced by -man. - -He was born in 1708, and was educated at Oxford, quitting it without a -degree, but with a brilliant reputation. Soon after he entered -Parliament, and gained such power that he was shortly advanced to the -office of Prime Minister. This was in the reign of George II. and at the -opening of the Seven Years War, by which England won the province of -Canada, and became the most powerful empire in the world. But when he -took the reins of government it was far different. The armies of the -nation had been beaten in every quarter, and the people were almost in -despair. But he infused new spirit into them, and by his energy and -farsighted combinations, won the most glorious series of triumphs that -ever crowned the arms of England. His fame did not cease when he left -the ministry, and, in America at least, he is best known for his -friendly words to us during the revolutionary war. He opposed with all -the strength of his wondrous eloquence the oppressive measures that -provoked the colonists to revolution. Yet there was no element of fear -or compromise in his disposition. He only opposed the ministry in their -government of our country because he believed their measures to be -unjust. But when, after seven years of defeat and disaster, the body of -the nation became convinced that the Americans never could be conquered, -and the proposition was made to recognize their independence, Chatham -fought against the accomplishment of the separation with all his vigor. -He made his last speech on this subject, and while the house was still -under the solemn awe that followed his address, he was stricken down by -apoplexy and borne home to die. - -We have little upon which to base an estimate of this almost unequalled -orator, save the effect he produced upon his contemporaries. Nothing has -been preserved of his speeches, but a few passages that stamped -themselves indelibly upon the minds of his hearers. Yet through his -eloquence, backed by his strong will, he was for many years virtually -dictator of England, and even when most alone, scarcely any one dared to -meet him in debate. - -Many curious instances are given of the uncontrolled ascendency he -obtained over the House of Commons. His most celebrated rival was -Murray, Earl of Mansfield, who had just been promoted to the office of -Attorney-General, when the incident narrated below occurred. Chatham -made a speech, really intended to overwhelm Murray, but on a totally -different subject. Fox says “every word was MURRAY, yet so managed that -neither he nor anybody else could take public notice of it or in any way -reprehend him. I sat near Murray, who _suffered_ for an hour. At its -close he used an expression that at once became proverbial.” After the -unhappy Attorney had writhed for a time, and endured the terrible, but -indirect, satire of Chatham until endurance was scarcely possible any -longer, the latter stopped, threw his piercing eyes around as if in -search of something, then fixing their whole force on his victim, -exclaimed, “I must now address a few words to Mr. Attorney; they shall -be few, but they shall be daggers!” Murray was agitated; the look was -continued, and the agitation became so uncontrollable as to be noticed -by the whole house. “_Felix trembles_,” roared Chatham, in a voice of -thunder, “_he shall hear me some other day_.” Murray was too completely -stricken to attempt a reply. - -On another occasion, having finished a speech, he walked out of the -house with a slow step, being at the time an habitual invalid. There was -a profound silence until he was passing through the door. Then a member -started up, saying, “Mr. Speaker, I rise to reply to the right honorable -gentleman.” Chatham caught the sound, turned back, and fixed his eye on -the orator, who instantly sat down. He then walked slowly to his seat, -repeating in Latin, as he hobbled along, the lines from Virgil, in which -is described the terror of the Grecian ghosts when Æneas entered the -dark realm: - - “The Grecian chiefs.... - When they beheld the MAN with shining arms - Amid those shades, trembled with sodden fear, - ... and raised - A feeble outcry; but the sound commenced, - _Died on their gurgling lips_.” - -Reaching his seat, he exclaimed in a tone that terrified the whole -house, “Now let me hear what the honorable gentleman has to say to me.” -There was no response, and the whole body was too much awed to laugh at -the situation of the poor orator. - -Yet he did not deal in the terrible and overpowering all the time. In a -most eloquent speech in opposition to a measure that he believed -violated the sanctity of the English home, he gave the following -description of that privilege which is justly the proudest boast of an -Englishman. A single passage is all that remains, but it will not soon -be forgotten: - - “The poorest man may in his cottage bid defiance to all the forces - of the Crown. It may be frail—its roof may shake—the wind may blow - through it—the storm may enter—the rain may enter—but the King of - England cannot enter!—all his forces dare not cross the threshold of - the ruined tenement!” - -Lord Macaulay, who was in no sense friendly to the great orator, gives -him a glowing eulogy: - - “His figure, when he first appeared in Parliament, was strikingly - graceful and commanding, his features high and noble, his eye full - of fire. His voice, even when it sank to a whisper, was heard to the - remotest benches; when he strained it to its full extent, the sound - rose like the swell of the organ of a great cathedral, shook the - house with its peal, and was heard through lobbies, and down - staircases, to the Court of Requests, and the precincts of - Westminster Hall. He cultivated all these eminent advantages with - the most assiduous care. His action is described by a very malignant - observer as equal to that of Garrick. His play of countenance was - wonderful; he frequently disconcerted a hostile orator by a single - glance of indignation or scorn. Every tone, from the impassioned cry - to the thrilling aside, was perfectly at his command.” - -He was a truly extemporaneous speaker, and seldom attempted any other -style. When he did he failed. His memory was strong and retentive, and -his mind so fully stored with information on every subject that he was -always ready for debate. Some of his grandest efforts were called forth -by an unexpected circumstance, or a single glance of his eye. Once, -while replying to Suffolk, he caught a view of the tapestry on which was -painted some of the achievements of the ancestors of that lord, and -instantly seized the hint it conveyed and gave expression to one of the -noblest bursts of eloquence in any language. One of his contemporaries -says: - - “When without forethought or any other preparation than those - talents nature had supplied, and education cultivated, Chatham - rose—stirred to anger by some sudden subterfuge of corruption, or - device of tyranny—then was heard an eloquence never surpassed either - in ancient or modern times. It was the highest power of expression - ministering to the highest power of thought.” - - - WILLIAM PITT. - -The manner in which the younger Pitt succeeded to the talents and -position of the elder is one of the most wonderful things in history. -His father trained him from his infancy in the models which he himself -had imitated so successfully. Some of these means of improvement, which -at least assisted in producing the peculiar character of the eloquence -of father and son, are worthy of our attention. They both translated -from the best classical authors, committed to memory choice passages -from the poets, and prose writers they valued, thus acquiring great -command of words. With such previous training, it would have been -useless for them to write even in their most elaborate efforts. - -When the younger Pitt had finished the traditional college course and -was admitted to the bar, he also entered Parliament, being then only -twenty-three years of age. He delivered his first speech, which was -entirely unpremeditated, only about a month afterward. It took the house -by storm. In the midst of that brilliant assembly, accustomed to the -eloquence of Fox, Burke, and others worthy of any age, there was a -universal burst of enthusiastic admiration. When some one remarked, -“Pitt promises to be one of the first speakers ever heard in -Parliament,” Fox replied, “_He is so already._” - -When only twenty-four years of age he was made Prime Minister, and held -the post for seventeen years. Although there is room for a wide -difference of opinion regarding many of his acts during this time, there -is none concerning his ability. Among other reforms that he advocated -was the abolition of the slave trade. He made a speech on this subject -that is still celebrated. Wilberforce said that “for the last twenty -minutes he really seemed to be inspired.” Windham declares “that he -walked home lost in amazement at the compass, until then unknown to him, -of human eloquence.” Pitt died at the comparatively early age of -forty-seven, holding the highest office in the gift of his country. - -Brougham gives a glowing account of his power as an orator. “He is to be -placed without any doubt in the highest class. With a sparing use of -ornament, hardly indulging more in figures, or even in figurative -expression, than the most severe examples of ancient chasteness -allowed—with little variety of style, hardly any of the graces of -manner—he no sooner rose than he carried away every hearer, and kept the -attention fixed and unflagging until it pleased him to let it go; and -then - - “’So charming left his voice that we awhile - Still thought him speaking, still stood fixed to hear.’ - -“This magical effect was produced by his unbroken flow, which never for -a moment left the hearer in pain or doubt, and yet was not the mean -fluency of mere relaxation, requiring no effort of the speaker, but -imposing on the listener a heavy task; by his lucid arrangement, which -made all parts of the most complicated subject quit their entanglement -and fall each in its place; by the clearness of his statements which -presented a picture to the mind; by the forcible appeals to strict -reason and strong feeling which formed the great staple of the -discourse; by the majesty of the diction; by the depth and fullness of -the most sonorous voice and the unbending dignity of the manner, which -ever reminded us that we were in the presence of more than the mere -advocate and debater, that there stood before us a ruler of the people. -Such were the effects invariably of this singular eloquence; nor did -anything, in any mood of mind, ever drop from him that was unsuited to -the majestic frame of the whole, or could disturb the serenity of the -full and copious flood that rolled along.” - -Macaulay says: “At his first appearance in Parliament he showed himself -superior to all his contemporaries in command of language. He could pour -out a long succession of round and stately periods, without ever pausing -for a word, without ever repeating a word, in a voice of silver -clearness, and with a pronunciation so articulate that not a letter was -slurred over.” - -These men, father and son, were never excelled in debate. They were -always ready. Every advantage that the occasion allowed was taken at the -time, and the favorable moment never went by while they were preparing. -They each attained a power they never would have possessed had it been -necessary for them to use manuscript or depend on their memory. The time -others have wasted in writing special orations, they employed in such -wide culture, and in accumulating such vast stores of knowledge, that -they were always ready. They were able to come to great intellectual -contests with their minds fresh and un-fagged by previous composition. - -But it may be said that with all their power they were destitute of -polish and beauty. In such fragments of their speeches as have been -preserved, it is true that gracefulness is less conspicuous than force, -and the opponent of unwritten speech may imagine that this is a -necessary consequence of the manner in which they spoke. The advantage -they gained was worth the cost, even if this lack of the finer and more -elegant qualities of speech was inevitable. But that this does not -necessarily result from extempore speech, is abundantly proved by the -example of their great rival— - - - EDMUND BURKE. - -This prince of imaginative orators was an Irishman. He was born in 1730, -and graduated in Dublin University at the age of twenty. For a short -time afterward he studied law, but soon grew weary of it and turned his -attention to philosophy and literature. The productions of his pen -speedily won an enviable reputation. A “Vindication of Natural Society” -was speedily followed by the celebrated “Essay on the Sublime and -Beautiful.” - -His appearance in Parliament, the great arena of British eloquence, was -comparatively late in life, but as soon as elected he gave promise of -the great brilliancy he afterward displayed. For more than thirty years -he had no superior in that august body, and scarcely an equal. He stood -side by side with Pitt in defence of America, and endeared himself to -every lover of liberty in both hemispheres. The great impeachment of -Warren Hastings was mainly brought about by his influence, and afforded -room for all his powers. The war with France was the last great theme -upon which his eloquence was employed, and in it his strongly -conservative views alienated him from most of his former friends. - -During all this time his eloquence was a wonder both to friend and foe, -and in its own style was never equalled in the House of Commons, or in -the world. His speech on the impeaching of Warren Hastings, made at the -bar of the House of Lords, was an unparalleled effort. It extended over -a period of four days, and bore everything before it. On the third day -of this great speech, he described the cruelties inflicted on some of -the natives of India by one of Hastings’s agents, with such vividness -that one convulsive shudder ran through the whole assemblage, while the -speaker was so much affected by the picture he had penciled, that he -dropped his head upon his hands, and was for some moments unable to -proceed. Some, who were present, fell into a swoon, while even Hastings -himself, who disclaimed all responsibility for these things, was -overwhelmed. In speaking of the matter afterwards he says: “For half an -hour I looked upon the orator in a revery of wonder, and actually felt -myself to be the most culpable man on earth.” Lord Thurlow, who was -present, declares that long after, many who were present had not -recovered from the shock, and probably never would. - -Soon after, the great speech of Sheridan was delivered. Like Burke’s, it -was extempore, and no report of it, worthy the name, remains. It was -only inferior to the mighty effort that preceded it. A clergyman who -came to the house strongly prepossessed in favor of Hastings, said at -the close of the first hour, to a friend who sat by him, “This is mere -declamation without proof.” When another hour had passed, he remarked, -“This is a wonderful oration.” Another hour went by, and again he spoke: -“Warren Hastings certainly acted unjustifiably.” At the end of the -fourth hour he said: “Hastings is an atrocious criminal.” When the -speech closed at the end of the fifth hour, he vehemently declared, “Of -all monsters of iniquity, Warren Hastings is certainly the most -enormous.” - -For seven long years this unprecedented trial went on. More than -one-third of those who sat on the judge’s bench when it began were in -their graves. When, at last it drew to a close, Burke made to the Lords -a closing charge worthy of his genius: - - “My Lords,” said he, “I have done! The part of the Commons is - concluded! With a trembling hand we consign the product of these - long, _long_ labors to your charge. _Take it! Take it!_ It is a - sacred trust! Never before was a cause of such magnitude submitted - to any human tribunal.... My Lords, it has pleased Providence to - place us in such a stage that we appear every moment to be on the - verge of some great mutation. There is one thing, and one thing only - that defies mutation—that which existed before the world itself. I - mean JUSTICE; that justice which, emanating from the Divinity, has a - place in the breast of every one of us, given us for our guide with - regard to ourselves and with regard to others; and which will stand - after this globe is burned to ashes, our advocate or our accuser - before our great Judge, when He comes to call upon us for the tenor - of a well spent life.” - -The effect of this speech upon the auditory was such that it was only -after some time had elapsed, and after repeated efforts, that Fox, -himself a giant in eloquence, could obtain a hearing. - -The character of Burke’s eloquence is well summed up in the following -account, given by Wraxall, one of his contemporaries: - - “Nature had bestowed on him a boundless imagination, aided by a - memory of equal strength and tenacity. His fancy was so vivid that - it seemed to light up by its own powers, and to burn without - consuming the aliment on which it fed: sometimes bearing him away - into ideal scenes created by his own exuberant mind, but from which - he, sooner or later, returned to the subject of debate; descending - from his most aerial flights, by a gentle and imperceptible - gradation, till he again touched the ground. Learning waited on him - like a handmaid, presenting to his choice all that antiquity has - culled or invented, most elucidatory of the topic under discussion. - He always seemed to be oppressed under the load and variety of his - intellectual treasures. Every power of oratory was wielded by him in - its turn; for he could be, during the same evening, often within the - space of a few minutes, pathetic and humorous; acrimonious and - conciliating; now giving loose to his indignation or severity; and - then, almost in the same breath, calling to his assistance wit and - ridicule. It would be endless to cite instances of this versatility - of his disposition, and of the rapidity of his transitions, - - ‘From grave to gay, from lively to severe,’ - - that I have, myself, witnessed. . . . What he was in public he was - in private; like the star which now precedes and now follows the - sun, he was equally brilliant whether he - - ‘Flamed in the forehead of the morning sky,’ - - or led on with a milder luster the modest hosts of evening.” - -A Frenchman gives a graphic description of one of his speeches. At first -he was disappointed in his appearance. - - “I certainly did not expect to find him in the British Parliament - dressed in the ancient toga; nor was I prepared to see him in a - tight brown coat, which seemed to impede every movement, and above - all, the little hat-wig with curls. . . . He moved into the middle - of the house contrary to the usual practice, for the members speak - standing and uncovered, not leaving their places. But Mr. Burke, - with the most natural air imaginable, with seeming humility, and - with folded arms, began his speech in so low a tone of voice that I - could scarcely hear him. Soon after, however, becoming animated by - degrees, he described religion attacked, the bonds of subordination - broken, civil society threatened to its foundation.... When in the - course of this grand sketch, (to show that England could depend only - on herself,) he mentioned Spain, that immense monarchy, which - appeared to have fallen into a total lethargy: ‘What can we expect,’ - said he, ‘from her?—mighty indeed, but unwieldy—vast in bulk, but - inert in spirit—_a whale stranded upon the sea shore of Europe_.’ - The whole House was silent; every mind was fixed; ... never was the - electric power of eloquence more imperiously felt. I have witnessed - many, too many political assemblages and striking scenes where - eloquence performed a noble part, but the whole of them appear - insipid when compared with this amazing effort.” - -Burke was an extemporaneous speaker in the sense we have used the word -in the preceding pages. He thought over the ideas of his speech as fully -as his time permitted, and when he spoke, threw them into the language -of the moment. At the conclusion of one of his speeches on the American -question, his friends crowded around and urged him to write what he had -said for the benefit of the world. He did so then, and also on five -other occasions. Of the hundreds of other speeches he delivered only -broken and imperfect fragments remain. - -Burke exerted himself in conversation, and thus improved his powers of -language in the method we have recommended. Dr. Johnson says of him in -his oracular way: - - “Burke is an extraordinary man. His stream of talk is perpetual; and - he does not talk from any desire of distinction, but because his - mind is full. He is the _only_ man whose common conversation - corresponds with the general fame he has in the world. Take him up - where you please, he is ready to meet you. No man of sense could - meet him by accident under a gateway to avoid a shower without being - convinced that he was the first man in England.” - - - MIRABEAU. - -The career of Mirabeau more resembles a strange romance than a sober -history. He was of a good family, but during his childhood and early -manhood his father treated him like a brute. His very appearance was -peculiar. His head was of enormous size, his body so much misshapen that -his father, who persecuted him for his deformity, declared that he -looked more like a monster than a human being. The whole of his early -life presents a picture of dreariness and misery exceeding that of -almost any other man who has risen to greatness. Several times he was -imprisoned—once for three years and a half—by order of his unnatural -parent. Finally he began to use his pen, and soon won general -admiration. His father, having failed to crush him, now became -reconciled, and allowed him to assume the family name, which he had not -permitted before. By this time he had a wide experience of vice, and was -deeply in debt. His struggles for several years were still severe. - -But at length the great revolution came, and he found his true element. -The powers of speech which had already been displayed to a limited -extent, were now exercised in a noble field. The people soon recognized -in him the qualities necessary for a leader, and elected him to the -General Assembly of France. Here he was feared and respected by all. He -had no party to support him, but worked alone, and often by the mere -force of his genius bent the Assembly to his will. During his whole -career there, he was not an extremist, and for a time before his death -was engaged in upholding the crown and the cause of constitutional -government against the party of anarchy and death. This lost him his -unbounded popularity with the fickle populace of Paris, and they began -to shout for his blood. He was charged in the Assembly with corruption, -and treason to the cause of liberty. This only prepared the way for his -triumph. The very tree was marked on which he was to be hung. But he did -not quail before the storm. When he reached the hall, he found himself -in the midst of determined enemies already drunk with blood, and with no -friend who dared to speak on his behalf. But the mere force of eloquence -prevailed. He spoke in words of such power that the noisy multitude was -stilled, and the tide turned. - -After this triumph he took part in every measure, and was really the -guiding power of the state. The king leaned on him as the only stay of -his reign, and the moderate of every party began to look to him as the -hope of France. Sometimes he spoke five times in one day, and at the -sound of his magical voice the anarchical Assembly was hushed into -reverence and submission. But his exertions were beyond his strength. At -last he was prostrated. Every hour the king sent to enquire of his -health, and bulletins of his state were posted in the streets. It seemed -as if the destiny of France was to be decided in his sick chamber. He -died, and the whole nation mourned, as well it might, for no other hand -than his could hold back the reign of terror. It is indeed a problem -whether that terrible tragedy would not have been prevented, if he had -but lived a few months longer. - -Some of the speeches of this remarkable man were recited, but in these -he never attained his full power. A French writer well describes him: - -“Mirabeau in the tribune was the most imposing of orators, an orator so -consummate, that it is harder to say what he wanted than what he -possessed. - -“Mirabeau had a massive and square obesity of figure, thick lips, a -forehead broad, bony, prominent; arched eyebrows, an eagle eye, cheeks -flat, and somewhat fleshy, features full of pock holes and blotches, a -voice of thunder, an enormous mass of hair, and the face of a lion. - -“His manner as an orator is that of the great masters of antiquity, with -an admirable energy of gesture, and a vehemence of diction which perhaps -they had never reached. - -“Mirabeau in his premeditated discourses was admirable. But what was he -not in his extemporaneous effusions? His natural vehemence, of which he -repressed the flights in his prepared speeches, broke down all barriers -in his improvisations. A sort of nervous irritability gave then to his -whole frame an almost preternatural animation and life. His breast -dilated with an impetuous breathing. His lion face became wrinkled and -contorted. His eyes shot forth flame. He roared, he stamped, he shook -the fierce mass of his hair, all whitened with foam; he trod the tribune -with the supreme authority of a master, and the imperial air of a king. -What an interesting spectacle to behold him, momently, erect and exalt -himself under the pressure of obstacle! To see him display the pride of -his commanding brow! To see him, like the ancient orator, when, with all -the power of his unchained eloquence, he was wont to sway, to and fro in -the Forum, the agitated waves of the Roman multitude. Then would he -throw by the measured notes of his declamation, habitually grave and -solemn. Then would escape him broken exclamations, tones of thunder, and -accents of heartrending and terrible pathos. He concealed with the flash -and color of his rhetoric, the sinewy arguments of his dialectics. He -transported the Assembly, because himself transported. And yet—so -extraordinary was his force—he abandoned himself to the torrent of his -eloquence, without wandering from his course; he mastered others by its -sovereign sway, without losing for an instant his own self-control.” - - - PATRICK HENRY. - -The fame of this great man cannot soon be surpassed. He not only -produced a great impression at the time he spoke, but had an agency, by -his eloquent words, in bringing about the most important changes. He was -more than the mouthpiece of the American Revolution. He not merely -interpreted the feelings of the mass of the nation to itself, but in a -large degree originated the enthusiasm that led them through war to -independence. It is certain that the aristocratic and powerful colony of -Virginia would have occupied a far different place in the struggle for -liberty, if it had been deprived of his almost irresistible influence. -It is hard to speculate on what might have been the result if -temporizing measures had carried the day, and the union of the colonies -been interfered with by want of cordial sympathy. The political wisdom -of Franklin, and the military skill and constancy of Washington, did not -contribute more to final success than the bold councils and fervent -utterances of the country lawyer who is the subject of our sketch. - -Patrick Henry was born in Hanover county, Virginia, in May, 1736. In -childhood he acquired the common elements of education, and some -knowledge of Latin and mathematics, and was not the ignorant youth that -some of his admirers delight in representing him. But he was exceedingly -fond of hunting and fishing, and would often spend the hours in this -way, that might have been devoted to more useful employment. But he -became a great day dreamer, thus at once revealing and exercising the -unbounded imagination he possessed. He loved to wander alone, that he -might give full play to the visions and reveries that floated through -his brain. - -When about fourteen, he heard the celebrated Presbyterian minister, -Samuel Davies. His eloquence was the most powerful that Henry had -hitherto enjoyed, and awakened in him a spirit of emulation. All his -life Henry delighted to do him honor, and attributed the bent of his own -mind to oratory and a large measure of his success to this man. - -In business, the future statesman was uniformly most unsuccessful. He -twice failed as a storekeeper, and once as a farmer. But all this time -he was really studying for his future profession. He was fond of talk, -and by indulging in it freely doubtless improved his power of language. -He would relate long stories, and do it so well that those who thronged -his counter took as little note of time as he did, and yielded their -hearts as fully to him as larger audiences did afterward. - -As a last resort he studied law, but for a time his success was no -better in this than in his previous occupations. But after two or three -years, during which he lived without practice, and in a dependent -condition, he was retained in what seemed merely a nominal capacity—as -defendant in the noted “Parsons case.” The preachers of the established -church were paid so many pounds of tobacco per annum. But when the price -arose, in a time of scarcity, the Legislature passed an act allowing all -persons to pay their assessment in money at the rate of 2d per pound, -which was much less than it was worth at that time. After an interval -this law was declared void by the king and his council. Then the clergy -instituted suit to recover what they had lost during the time the act -was enforced. There was no doubt of the legality of their claim, -although more of its intrinsic rightfulness, and the law question was -decided in a test case, almost without controversy. This really -surrendered the whole matter, and the only issue then was as to the -amount of damage they had sustained—a very plain question, apparently -affording no room for argument by the defense. - -A vast array of the clergy were present, and on the bench was Henry’s -own father. No circumstances could be imagined more unfavorable for the -maiden speech of a young lawyer. The case for the plaintiff was clearly -and forcibly stated by a leading member of the bar, and Henry began his -reply. It is no wonder that he faltered, and that his sentences were -awkward and confused. The people, who were present in great numbers, and -who were intensely hostile to the preachers, hung their heads, and gave -up the contest. The father of the speaker was shame-faced and dismayed. -The preachers smiled in derision, and exchanged congratulatory glances. -But it was too soon. The power of eloquence began to assert itself. The -strong mind of Henry mastered all embarrassment, and was brought to -bear, with irresistible force, upon his subject, and upon those around. -All eyes were drawn to the almost unknown speaker. His rusticity of -manner had disappeared; his form became erect, and his piercing eyes -shot forth lightning. “A mysterious and almost supernatural -transformation of appearance” passed over him. Every pulse beat -responsive to his, and throbbed with his own mighty indignation. He -turned his withering invective upon the clergy, speaking of their -greediness, oppression, and meanness, until they fled from the court. -Spectators say that their blood ran cold and their hair stood on end! -When he concluded, the jury in an instant brought judgment for one penny -damages! a new trial was refused, and the young but unparalleled orator -was borne away in triumph by the shouting multitude. - -His first appearance in the house of Burgesses was not less brilliant, -and far more important in its results. The majority of the Assembly -seemed to be bent on new petitions and remonstrances against the -oppression of England, when Henry introduced his celebrated resolutions, -declaring in plain phrases that the acts complained of were -unconstitutional and void. This, which was little short of a declaration -of war, was received, even by well-meaning patriots, with a storm of -opposition. A most bitter debate followed. Henry at first stood almost -alone, with the wealth and talent of the Assembly arrayed against him. -But his clear conviction, determined will, and powerful eloquence turned -the scale, and the resolutions passed, committing Virginia to the cause -of resistance. - -When Henry attended the first Congress he found an array of men, whose -fame was already becoming world-wide. But he soon won his way to the -very highest rank among them, and maintained it to the close. His -extraordinary eloquence excited the same astonishment on this broader -field, as in the seclusion of the Virginia hills. It was “Shakespeare -and Garrick combined.” When he took his seat after his opening speech, -the first speech that had broken the silence of the great assembly, -there was no longer a doubt that he was the greatest orator in America, -and probably in the world. This pre-eminence he maintained all through -the exciting struggle. His voice was ever like an inspiration, and the -people looked up to him almost as a prophet. - -His vast power remained until the close of his life. The last great -speech, made in a contest with John Randolph, when he was nearly seventy -years of age, and only three months before his death, was equal to any -of his former efforts. “The sun had set in all its glory.” - -These few sketches will sufficiently illustrate the eloquence of this -wonderful man. It only remains to state what is known in regard to his -methods of preparation. He never wrote. His mightiest efforts were made -in situations where the use of the pen would have been impossible. The -Virginia resolutions were written on a blank leaf in a law book, and -during the whole of the terrible debate which followed, he was ever -ready, and mastered all opponents. He thought much, but wrote little. He -spoke only on great occasions, while in political life, but gave -attention to all that was passing, and by keen observation learned the -characters of those upon whose minds he wrought. Thus he was prepared to -drive every word home to its mark. He was a great student of history, -and this knowledge doubtless contributed very greatly to the clearness -and precision of his views upon the great struggle in which the country -was engaged, as well as gave him an ample fund of illustration in his -speeches. Study of character and of history, cultivation of the power of -narration and of language, seem to have been the means by which his -wonderful natural genius was fitted for its triumphs. - - - GEORGE WHITEFIELD. - -Few men of any age have been instrumental in accomplishing more good -than the subject of our present sketch. Without deep logical powers, and -with little claim to originality of thought, he chained vast multitudes -by his eloquence, and was one of the foremost actors in a mighty -religious movement. - -None of the converts Whitefield gathered into the church ever passed -through a more strongly marked experience in personal religion than he -did. The agony of conviction he underwent was terrible, and he struggled -long and desperately before he obtained peace. “God only knows,” he -exclaims, “how many nights I have lain upon my bed groaning under what I -felt. Whole days and weeks have I spent in lying prostrate on the -ground, in silent or vocal prayer.” His mind almost failed under the -violence of his mental conflicts, and he endeavored, by wearing the -meanest apparel, and almost continual fasting, and many works of -self-mortification to find relief. But all this was in vain. We see in -it an indication of the terrible earnestness and sincerity of the -man—qualities which never passed away from him. These months of vivid -emotion affected his whole life, and imparted an intensity to his -pictures of sin, and a vividness to his realization of its horrors, that -he never would have had otherwise. - -At last his health gave way beneath the pressure of his spiritual -trials, and he fell into a long sickness. At the end of seven weeks he -found peace, and his raptures became as great as the horrors of -conscience had been. “But oh! with what joy, joy unspeakable, even joy -that was full of glory, was my soul filled, when the weight of sin went -off, and an abiding sense of the love of God and a full assurance of -faith broke in upon my disconsolate soul.” This rapturous experience -continued with few interruptions through life, and really formed the -spring of his wonderful exertions. For thirty-four years his soul glowed -in all the fervors that he had experienced at his first conversion, and -he put forth his great strength in unwearied efforts to bring others to -the same blessed enjoyment. - -His career opened with wonderful brilliancy. The first sermon preached -after his ordination as deacon, was said to “have driven fifteen persons -mad,”—a kind of madness that soon became common in England. Everywhere -the people flocked to hear him in crowds, and soon no church would -contain the multitude, even when they were opened for him. Once, when -preaching with “great freedom of heart and clearness of voice,” with -thousands of persons standing outside of the church, after hundreds had -gone away for want of room, he was struck with the thought of preaching -the word in the open air. Friends discouraged, but the die was soon -cast, and from that time forward his mightiest triumphs were won in -imitation of his Master, “who had a mountain for His pulpit, and the -heavens for a sounding board!” This was the proper theater for the -display of his wonderful power, and his spirit felt the beauty and -grandeur of the scene. Sometimes as many as twenty thousand people were -gathered together. - -The theater of his most marvelous triumphs was at Moorfields during the -Whitsun holidays. The lowest class of London population was then poured -forth, and the most riotous scenes enacted. He resolved to begin early, -in order to secure the field before the greatest rush of the crowd. Ten -thousand people were gathered impatiently waiting for the sports of the -day. “He had for once got the start of the devil,” and soon drew the -multitude around him. At noon he tried again. The odds against him were -greater. Between twenty and thirty thousand people were present, and -shows, exhibitors, and players were all busy. He shouted his text, -“Great is Diana of the Ephesians,” and began the battle. It was waged -fiercely, and stones, dirt, and rotten eggs, with every other means of -annoyance, were brought to bear on the steadfast preacher. “My soul,” he -says, “was among lions.” But soon his wonderful power transformed the -multitude into lambs. - -At night he renewed the assault on the stronghold of the adversary. -Thousands had been added to the throng, and their leaders, who had lost -much of their day’s gain by his preaching, were determined to endure it -no longer. A harlequin attempted to strike him with a whip but failed. A -recruiting sergeant, with many followers, and with drum and fife, made -the next effort. But Whitefield called to the people to make way for the -king’s officer, and the people yielded before, and closed up behind him, -until he was in this manner conducted harmlessly out of the crowd. Next, -a large number combined together, and taking hold of a long pole charged -furiously on the assembly, roaring like beasts. But they too were -foiled, and threw down the pole, many of them joining the hearers. At -times the tumult rose like the noise of many waters, drowning the voice -of the preacher, who would then resort to singing, until silence -returned. He kept the field to the last, and gathered mighty spoil into -his Tabernacle that night. - -Very different were the sermons he preached at the mansion of Lady -Huntingdon, but they were marked by the same power. Courtiers and -noblemen joined in praising him, and Hume declared that he would go -twenty miles to hear him. No one seemed to be impervious to his -wonderful eloquence, and even in this selected circle he gathered -trophies of the Cross. - -He passed and repassed from England to America several times, and was -everywhere as a flame of fire. The languid zeal of lukewarm churches was -revived, and the careless and immoral led into new lives. He was soon -looked up to as an apostle by thousands who dated their first religious -impressions from the time when they listened to his fervid words. But -opposition was not wanting, and once he very nearly received the crown -of martyrdom. - -After he had finished preaching in Dublin, he was attacked by an immense -mob of infuriated Papists. His friends fled for their lives, and left -him to the mercy of the rioters. Stones from every direction struck him, -until he was breathless and dripping with blood. He found a momentary -refuge, when almost at the point of death, but the inmates of the house -which he had entered, fearing it would be demolished, entreated him to -leave. He was offered a disguise, but refused it, and in his proper -dress passed through whole streets of threatening Papists, and as soon -as he had reached a place of safety, and had his wounds dressed, began -to preach again! - -Thus year after year passed, crowded full of labors. He considered it an -indication of great feebleness that for a short time he could only -preach one sermon a day. Thousands in Europe and America called him -blessed, and everywhere countless multitudes crowded to hear him speak -of the grace of God. For the lifetime of an ordinary generation his -unequaled power and untiring labor continued. After speaking he -frequently vomited great quantities of blood, which he regarded as -relieving his over-taxed lungs. - -His death was romantic and beautiful, as befitted such a life. There are -few more touching, and yet more happy in the records of biography. - -He preached his last field sermon at Exeter. It was continued for two -hours, and was among his most powerful efforts. He reached Newburyport, -Mass., the same evening, where he intended to preach the next day. While -at supper, the pavement, and the hall of the house where he sat, were -crowded with people impatient to hear the wonderful orator. But he was -exhausted, and said to one of the clergymen who accompanied him, -“Brother, you must speak to these dear people; I cannot say a word.” He -took a candle and started for his room, but before he reached it, his -generous heart reproached him for even seeming to desert the people who -were hungering for the bread of life. He paused on the stairway, while -the piece of candle he had taken when he started cast its flickering -light on the crowd below, and began to speak. The people gazed with -tearful awe and affection on his venerable form. His musical and -pathetic voice flowed on in words of tenderness and exhortation until -the candle went out in its socket. Before the morning he was dead! - -His remembrance did not die with him. Europe and America vied together -in mourning for him, and Methodists, Churchmen, and Dissenters revered -him as a departed prophet. - -What was the secret of his unparalleled power with the people? Clearly -its spring was his own profound and overwhelming emotions. It is -sometimes thought that his almost perfect elocution explains the -fascination he exerted, but it does not. He is classed by many as one -who committed and recited his discourses. But it may be safely assumed -that he could not have commanded one tithe of his success in that -manner. He may have done this at the beginning of his career, before his -marvelous genius was fully developed, but not after. It is indeed given -as a reason of his embarrassment when he began to preach in the open -air, that he had not long been accustomed to preach extempore. He says -that often, in his own apprehension, he had not a word to say either to -God or man. Think of a person who has a fully committed sermon, making -such an assertion, and afterwards thanking God for giving him words and -wisdom! - -The very best possible evidence that his sermons took their external -form at the moment, was that he complained of the reports that were made -of them. If they had been written before preaching, he would have had -the means of making these as perfect as desired. Yet he repeated sermons -on particular subjects very often. Foote and Garrick estimated that they -improved up to the thirtieth and fortieth repetition. Going over the -same ground so often, many striking phrases would doubtless fix -themselves in his mind, but he would still be free to introduce new -matters as he wished. His illustrations, too, many of which were -gathered from his own wide experience, would be given in nearly the same -manner on successive occasions. But he was a fine talker, and by his -unlimited practice in speech improved the power of language to such an -extent that it was fully capable of expressing the ocean of feeling that -flowed in his soul. His published sermons show few traces of the pen, -but bear every mark of impassioned utterance. Untroubled by doubt, all -that he preached was felt to be present reality. He was a pure and holy -man, moved by the Spirit to the work he entered on, and endowed with a -heart of fire, a soul of love, and a power of expression such as is -given to few mortals. No wonder that the multitude felt him to be little -less than inspired. - - - JOHN WESLEY. - -Both Henry and Whitefield were men of such vast genius as to be lifted -above ordinary rules. When we look upon them we feel imitation to be -almost hopeless. But we will give an instance of an altogether different -kind, and thus show how easily unwritten speech may be the medium of -every species of address. John Wesley was not an impassioned or -impetuous orator, and yet he wielded an almost boundless influence. He -was fluent and easy in his language, but exact and logical, leaving no -careless word on which an enemy might seize. Yet his power was great, -and even the scenes of excitement that marked the preaching of -Whitefield, and other early Methodists, were even surpassed under his -clear calm words. - -We have no intention of sketching the life and great achievements of -Wesley, but will only consider a few events that bear on his character -as a preacher. Before he found peace in believing, which he did not -until he had preached for years, his sermons were not characterized by -any extraordinary power. They were strong, clear, fluent, and no more. -But after his return from his final voyage to America, there was a great -change. The external characteristics remained nearly the same, but the -fervor and power of the spirit that breathed through his mildest words, -soon produced the opposite effects of exciting bitter enmity and of -drawing the hearts of the people toward him. It mattered not what the -nature of his congregations might be, there was something in his manner -and words adapted to all. He began field preaching about the same time -that Whitefield did, and sometimes gathered as many as twenty thousand -into one congregation. While he spoke the whole assembly was often -bathed in tears, and frequently many fell down as dead. He gathered -those who were convinced by his preaching into societies, and these soon -spread over the whole country. He was thus required to exercise more -authority in caring for them than any bishop of the Established Church. -For upwards of fifty years he averaged fifteen sermons a week. - -Although Wesley was the founder of Methodism, yet he differed widely -from the typical Methodist preachers. He dressed neatly, was most -courteous and polished in manners, graceful in the pulpit, and -considered violent exertions of the voice or furious gesticulation to be -little less than sin. His published sermons are models of thoughtful -analysis, close reasoning, and orderly arrangement. Yet he always spoke -without manuscript and without memorizing. - -Wesley would certainly have been justified, if any person ever was, in -reading his discourses. For he was surrounded by those who had been led -into the way of life by him, and who treasured up every word that fell -from his lips, while on the other hand, unscrupulous enemies -misrepresented him continually, and sought for occasion to accuse him of -teaching pernicious doctrine. Yet amid such ceaseless preaching, he was -always able to command the very words to express his ideas, and was -never compelled to retract an unguarded sentence. The volumes of sermons -which he published are to be regarded as mere abstracts of his teaching, -recorded for the benefit of his societies, and not as the very words he -used upon particular occasions. In his later years he came before the -people, as a father instructing his children, and imparted to them the -weighty truths he thought they ought to know, in all simplicity, and -without the slightest care for outward ornament or word-nicety. - - - SIDNEY SMITH. - -This eccentric, whole-souled, humorous, and eloquent clergyman was born -in 1771, and died in 1835. He graduated at Oxford, received a -fellowship, worth five hundred dollars a year, and thought to study law, -but at the instance of his father, changed his mind and entered the -Church. In connection with three others he started the _Edinburgh -Review_, and for years contributed sparkling articles that did much to -establish its reputation and popularity. He also became known to a wide -circle for his brilliant conversational powers, and, like so many -extempore speakers, took great delight in this most pleasant means of -improvement. - -At first his preferment in the Church was slow, but his favor with the -people was undoubtful. While he preached in London large and fashionable -audiences were drawn wherever he officiated. - -Finally he was presented with an obscure country living, and after some -delay went to it. It was a desolate place, far away from all the centers -of intellectual life, and previous incumbents had resided away from it -for more than a century. He says, “When I began to thump the cushion of -my pulpit, on first coming to Foston, as is my wont when I preach, the -accumulated dust of one hundred and fifty years, made such a cloud that -for some minutes I lost sight of my congregation.” - -He soon made a change for the better in all the affairs of the parish; -built an ugly but comfortable parsonage, and won the devoted affection -of his people. He passed much of his time in literary avocations, and -after fourteen years, received preferment to more desirable churches. -During the remainder of his life he used his pen so as to greatly -increase his already wide reputation, and became still more noted as a -preacher. He was very witty, and cared little for the common rules of -sermonizing, but had a power and earnestness that compensated for every -defect. The following extract will indicate his method of preparation: - - “Pulpit discourses have insensibly dwindled from speaking to - reading; a practice which of itself is sufficient to stifle every - germ of eloquence. It is only by the fresh feelings of the heart - that mankind can be very powerfully affected. What can be more - ludicrous than an orator delivering stale indignation and fervor a - week old; turning over whole pages of violent passions, written out - in goodly text; _reading_ the tropes and apostrophes into which he - is hurried by the ardor of his mind; and so affected at a - preconcerted line and page that he is unable to proceed any - further!” - - - F. W. ROBERTSON. - -No minister of the present generation has lived a purer life, or left -the stamp of his thought more deeply on the public mind than the young -incumbent of Trinity Chapel in Brighton. His sermons, not published -until after his death, are meeting with an unparalleled sale, and every -scrap of his sermon preparation, no matter how fragmentary, is seized -for the press with the greatest avidity. He now addresses a far larger -and more important audience than ever during his life time. - -F. W. Robertson was born in 1816 and died in 1853—only thirty-seven -years of age. He received the traditional English education at Oxford, -and had a strong inclination for the military profession. This he was -induced to renounce by the expressed judgment of his father—himself a -military officer—that Frederick was better fitted for the Church. After -he had received ordination, he acted as curate for twelve months at -Winchester. His health being by this time broken, he took a trip to the -continent under the advice of a physician. He was gone a year, and -during this time entered into marriage. When he returned he served for -four years in the parish of Cheltenham. Here the field for the exercise -of his talents was comparatively narrow; but many persons were led to a -higher life by his ministry—many more than he, with his habitual -self-depreciation, was willing to believe until years had passed. After -this he spent two months at St. Ebbs, in Oxford, receiving a miserably -small salary. During this short time his talents became known, and he -was offered the rich, aristocratic, and intellectual church at Brighton. -The offer was refused at first, and was only accepted at last through -the urgent solicitation of the Bishop, who felt that this was his proper -field. Here his popularity became unbounded. The working people, who had -almost deserted the Establishment, flocked to hear his bold, true words. -His biographer says: - - “His eloquence and originality could not fail to be marked. And if - the congregation was intellectual he was pre-eminently so. The - chapel became crowded. Sittings were scarcely ever to be had. For - six years the enthusiasm never slackened: it grew and spread - silently and steadily, and when he died broke out in a burst of - universal sorrow.... But he put no faith in mere excitement, the - eager upturned face, the still hush of attention. ‘What is - ministerial success?’ he asks. ‘Crowded churches—full - aisles—attentive congregation—the approval of the religious - world—much impression produced? Elijah thought so; and when he found - out his mistake, and discovered that the applause of Carmel subsided - into hideous stillness, his heart well nigh broke with - disappointment. Ministerial success lies in altered lives, and - obedient humble hearts; unseen work recognized in the judgment - day.’” - -That success was his. James Anderson says: - - “I cannot count up conquests in any place or by any man so numerous - and so vast—conquests achieved in so short a period, and in many - instances over the hearts and consciences of those whom, from their - age or pursuits, it is always most difficult to reach—as were the - conquests of that devoted soldier of the cross of Christ.” - -But his labors were too great for his strength. For at least two years -before his death he preached in continual pain, and yet there was no -abatement in his power. Many of the sermons by which he is best known -were then produced. We can scarcely realize as we read his calm -sentences, radiant with beauty, and full of profound thought, that they -were spoken during the ravages of a cerebral disease, that was soon to -still his eloquent voice forever. When he died, having preached almost -to the last, the city (containing sixty thousand inhabitants) was draped -in gloom, and mourning was universal. A monument was erected, to which -the working-men contributed a touching memorial. - -The manner in which so many of Robertson’s sermons were preserved, is, -when we consider his manner of preaching, very remarkable. He spoke -extempore, and never wrote out a sermon before delivery. His leading -thoughts were indicated by short notes, and the whole subject was -carefully arranged in his own mind. But his words and his most powerful -illustrations sprang from the inspiration of the moment. Usually he took -a small piece of paper containing the headings of his thoughts with him -into the pulpit, but never referred to it after the first few moments -had passed. His sympathizing biographer thus describes him: - - “So entirely was his heart in his work, that in public speaking - especially, he lost sight of everything but his subject. His - self-consciousness vanished. He did not choose his words or think - about his thoughts. He not only possessed, but was possessed by his - idea; and when all was over and the reaction came, he had forgotten - like a dream, words, illustrations, almost everything.... After some - of his most earnest and passionate utterances, he has said to a - friend: ‘Have I made a fool of myself?’ - - “If the most conquering eloquence for the English people be that of - the man who is all but mastered by his excitement, but who, at the - very point of being mastered, masters himself—apparently cool, while - he is at white heat—so as to make the audience glow with fire, and - at the same time respect the self-possessed power of the orator—the - man being always felt as greater than the man’s feelings—if that be - the eloquence that most tells upon the English nation, he had that - eloquence. He spoke under tremendous excitement, but it was - excitement reined in by will. He held in his hand a small piece of - paper with a few notes on it when he began. He referred to it now - and then; but before ten minutes had gone by it was crushed to - uselessness in his grasp; for he knit his fingers together over it, - as he knit his words over thought. His gesture was subdued; - sometimes a slow motion of his hand upward; sometimes bending - forward, his hand drooping over the pulpit; sometimes erecting - himself to his full height with a sudden motion, as if upraised by - the power of the thought he spoke. His voice—a musical, low, - penetrative voice—seldom rose; and when it did it was in a deep - volume of sound which was not loud, but toned like a great bell. It - thrilled also, but that was not so much from feeling as from the - repression of feeling. Toward the close of his ministry he was wont - to stand almost motionlessly erect in the pulpit, with his hands - loosely lying by his side, or grasping his gown. His pale, thin face - and tall, emaciated form, seeming, as he spoke, to be glowing as - alabaster glows when lit up by an inward fire. And, indeed, brain - and heart were on fire. He was being self-consumed. Every sermon in - those latter days burned up a portion of his vital power.” - -But though thus surrounded by an admiring congregation, and weekly -giving out thoughts that were worthy of still wider notice, when some of -his people, who realized that his words were too precious to die, raised -a subscription to employ a short-hand reporter, with a view to the -publication of his sermons, he refused to sanction the scheme, and wrote -the parties a characteristic letter, telling them that he had no time to -correct, and, without it, the discourses were not fit to be given to the -public. Yet a number were preserved in this way, and though not -published until after his death, they are almost faultless in form and -expression. Other sermons were written out briefly by himself, after -being preached, for the use of some private friends. It was thus that -those almost incomparable discourses were preserved, which are without -doubt the most valuable contribution that has been made to their -department of literature during the present century. - -We will give two extracts showing the power that may be wielded over -language without the use of the pen. The first is from a speech made to -a workingman’s institute opposing the introduction of infidel works into -their library. He is speaking of the compassion that should be shown to -the honest doubter: - - “I do think that the way we treat that state is unpardonably cruel. - It is an awful moment when the soul begins to find that the props on - which it has blindly rested so long are many of them rotten, and - begins to suspect them all; when it begins to feel the nothingness - of many of the traditionary opinions which have been received with - implicit confidence, and in that horrible insecurity begins also to - doubt whether there be anything to believe at all. It is an awful - hour—let him who has passed through it say how awful—when this life - has lost its meaning, and seems shriveled into a span; when the - grave appears to be the end of all, human goodness nothing but a - name, and the sky above this universe a dead expanse, black with the - void from which God Himself has disappeared. . . . I appeal (for the - truth of the picture drawn) to the recollection of any man who has - passed through that hour of agony, and stood upon the rock at last, - the surges stilled below him, and the last cloud drifted from the - sky above, with a faith, and hope, and trust, no longer traditional, - but of his own, a trust which neither earth nor hell shall shake - thenceforth for ever.” - -The second passage we will quote is an illustration from a sermon on the -doubt of Thomas, showing how weak are all arguments for immortality, -except those that are exclusively Christian. He speaks of many things -that are valuable as suggestions, but worthless as proofs, and next -shows how the same suggestions may point the other way: - - “Six thousand years of human existence have passed away. Countless - armies of the dead have set sail from the shores of time. No - traveler has returned from the still land beyond. More than one - hundred and fifty generations have done their work and sunk into the - dust again, and still there is not a voice, there is not a whisper - from the grave to tell us whether, indeed, those myriads are in - existence still. Besides, why should they be? Talk as you will of - the grandeur of man; why should it not be honor enough for him—more - than enough to satisfy a thing so mean—to have had his twenty or - seventy years life-rent of God’s universe? Why must such a thing, - apart from proof, rise up and claim to himself an exclusive - immortality? . . . Why may he not sink, after he has played his - appointed part, into nothingness again? You see the leaves sinking - one by one in autumn, till the heaps below are rich with the spoils - of a whole year’s vegetation. They were bright and perfect while - they lasted, each leaf a miracle of beauty and contrivance. There is - no resurrection for the leaves—why should there be one for man? Go - and stand, some summer evening, by the river side; you will see the - May-fly sporting out its little hour in the dense masses of insect - life, darkening the air a few feet above the gentle swell of the - water. The heat of that very afternoon brought them into existence. - Every gauze wing is traversed by ten thousand fibres, which defy the - microscope to find a flaw in their perfection. The omniscience and - the care bestowed upon that exquisite anatomy, one would think - cannot be destined to be wasted in a moment. Yet so it is. When the - sun has sunk below the trees its little life is done. Yesterday it - was not; tomorrow it will not be. God has bidden it be happy for one - evening. It has no right or claim to a second; and in the universe - that marvelous life has appeared once and will appear no more. May - not the race of man sink like the generations of the May-fly? Why - cannot the Creator, so lavish in His resources, afford to annihilate - souls as He annihilates insects? Would it not almost enhance His - glory to believe it?” - -Such language Robertson was able to employ without the use of the pen. -But the art was not attained without long and laborious toil. He -committed much—memorizing the whole Testament, both in English and -Greek, and storing his mind with innumerable gems from the poets. He -also studied the modern languages, particularly German, and delighted to -translate their treasure into his own tongue. He read much, but not -rapidly, dwelling upon a book until he could arrange the whole of its -contents with precision in his mind. Thus he attained an almost -unequalled mastery of both thought and language. If he had been required -to write every sermon, he could never have pursued such a thorough and -long continued course of cultivation, besides mastering such a vast -amount of knowledge. - -We have dwelt less upon the general character of his preaching, with its -strong originality, than upon the beauty, force, and accuracy of his -language, because these are the qualities usually believed to be -unattainable without written composition. But it is safe to say, that in -these respects he has not been surpassed by any preacher ancient or -modern. - - - HENRY CLAY. - -We will take Henry Clay as an example of the American political -eloquence of the last generation. He was one of a bright constellation -of great men—most of them, like himself, extemporaneous speakers. In -some respects he was, perhaps, superior to them all. His hold upon the -public mind was great, and even yet he is regarded with love and -reverence all over the Union. This, however, is not the result of his -genius alone. In some points his great rivals were more unfortunate than -himself. Calhoun’s influence was immense; but the effect of his teaching -has been so deadly that it is not to be wondered at if his fame is of an -equivocal kind. The badness of Webster’s private life, and his -unfortunate course on some great questions, caused his reputation to -decline, and his really great abilities to be undervalued. But the -genial, large-hearted orator of the West is still a favorite with the -people. - -Clay was a Virginian by birth. His father was a Baptist preacher, very -poor, who died when Henry was quite young, leaving a large family of -children. Henry obtained all his schooling, which was meager enough, in -a log school-house. The young boy was employed first as a clerk in a -store, and afterward as an assistant in a lawyer’s office. Next he -became an amanuensis to Chancellor Wythe, who treated him kindly and -gave him an opportunity to study law. Finally, he was admitted to the -bar, and removed to Kentucky. He immediately acquired practice, and met -with a hearty welcome from the rough backwoodsmen of that section. He -tells us how he acquired the ability to speak with fluency and power: - - “I owe my success in life to one simple fact, namely, that at an - early age I commenced and continued for some years the practice of - daily reading and speaking the contents of some historical or - scientific book. These off-hand efforts were sometimes made in a - corn-field; at others in the forest; and not unfrequently in some - barn, with the horse and ox for my only auditors. It is to this - early practice of the art of all arts that I am indebted for the - primary and leading impulses that stimulated my progress and have - shaped and molded my destiny.” - -An amusing instance is given of Clay’s first attempt at debate. He was -so much embarrassed that he forgot where he was, and called the chairman -“Gentlemen of the Jury.” Yet when this difficulty had been overcome, he -soon made a powerful impression. In fact it was spoken of by some as not -inferior to any of the addresses in which he achieved a national fame. -The policy of emancipation was then under debate in Kentucky, and young -Clay gave it his full support. But although he had almost unbounded -influence on any other subject, the people of his State loved slavery -better than any man, and the measure was defeated. - -The vast power of Clay as an orator was early displayed. When only -twenty-two years of age he, with another very able speaker, addressed a -popular meeting. While the other spoke there was great applause and -deafening acclamations, but Clay’s address was so much more thrilling -and effective, that the popular feeling became too deep for utterance, -and he closed amid unbroken silence. It was some moments before the -crowd recovered sufficiently to give vent, in thundering cheers, to the -emotion that he had kindled. - -It is hardly necessary to follow the career of Clay through all the -years that were devoted to the public service, for the country is still -familiar with it. Many of the measures with which he was connected may -not meet our approval, but no one will question the honesty of his -motives, or the ability with which they were advocated. In Congress he -had scarcely a rival. Calhoun was equally active, and more logical, but -had not the magic of voice and eye, the nameless graces of delivery that -distinguished the Kentucky orator. Webster spoke more like a giant, but -was hard to call out in his full force, and on ordinary occasions did -not speak nearly as well as Clay. The voice of the latter was an -instrument of great power, and he well knew how to use it. “Nature,” he -said on one occasion, referring to an effort made years before, “had -singularly favored me by giving me a voice peculiarly adapted to produce -the effects I wished in public speaking. Now,” he added, “its melody is -changed, its sweetness gone.” These words were pronounced as if in -mockery, in tones of exquisite sweetness. One who had heard him often, -says: - - “Mr. Clay’s voice has prodigious power, compass, and richness; all - its variations are captivating, but some of its base tones thrill - through one’s whole fame. To those who have never heard the living - melody, no verbal description can convey an adequate idea of the - diversified effects of those intonations which, in one strain of - sentiment, fall in whispering gentleness like the first words of - love upon a maiden’s lips, and anon in sterner utterances ring with - the maddening music of the main.” - -A gentleman who witnessed an oratorical encounter between Clay and -Webster describes it as inconceivably grand: - - “The eloquence of Mr. Webster was the majestic roar of a strong and - steady blast pealing through the forest; but that of Mr. Clay was - the tone of a god-like instrument, sometimes visited by an angel - touch, and swept anon by all the fury of the raging elements.” - -Clay, Webster and Calhoun were all extempore speakers. Webster sometimes -prepared very elaborately, but never confined himself to his -preparation. And some of his very best efforts were made on the spur of -the moment when circumstances conspired to arouse his vast but somewhat -sluggish genius. Both the others prepared their discourses in thought -alone, and those who were obliged to rely on their manuscripts or their -memories stood no chance at all with them in the fiery debates through -which they passed. - - - HENRY B. BASCOM. - -It may be doubted whether the late Bishop Bascom is properly classed -among extempore preachers. His mode of preparation certainly bordered on -the memoriter plan. But he did not write. He would first construct a -skeleton, usually very simple, and then throw each point into words -mentally. His memory was very great, and the fine expressions he coined, -as he rode through the forest or meditated in his study, were impressed -on his mind so strongly as to be recalled afterward. It was a common -practice with him to repeat his sermons over and over again to himself, -till every line of thought and every strong expression became perfectly -familiar. Bascom once stopped at a backwoodsman’s house, and left it to -take a short walk. Soon a neighbor came rushing in, declaring that he -had seen a crazy man walking back and forth on the edge of the woods, -swinging his arms wildly, and muttering to himself in a strange manner. -The neighbor was told not to be alarmed, but to come to church the next -day and he would see the crazy man again. He did so, and listened to -strains of eloquence as admirable as ever charmed his ear. - -The sermons which were thus prepared, were preached a great number of -times, and each time reviewed and improved. Bascom traveled a vast -extent of country, and the sermons which thus combined all the strength -of his really powerful mind, for years together, soon became famous. -Probably no preacher ever did so much with so few discourses. - -His delivery was wonderful. Henry Clay, who was well qualified to judge, -pronounced him the finest natural orator he had ever heard. His form was -almost perfect, his carriage noble and graceful, every movement light -and springy, so that, as some of his hearers have declared, “he scarcely -seemed to touch the ground.” He dressed with great taste, and on this -account was often objected to by the early Methodists, and came very -nearly being refused admission into his Conference. But he soon became a -general favorite with the people, who would throng to hear him from the -whole country for miles around. When he entered the pulpit he seemed -nearly borne down by the weight of his accumulations, and it was only -after he had begun to make headway that he became easy and -self-possessed. Then he poured forth torrent after torrent of highly -wrought eloquence, until the hearers were lost in admiration of the vast -powers he displayed. - -A very partial biographer considers it as very strange that he took but -little part in any Conference discussions, or debates on general topics. -The truth is, that with his mode of preparation, carried as far as he -carried it, he could not. There was no time to forecast his sentences, -and slowly build up a gorgeous fabric, and he therefore remained silent. - -He had a mighty imagination, and could so represent any object he -undertook so describe, that it would live before the eyes of his -hearers. But he cared so much for beauty that he wandered too far from -his way to seek it, and the consequence was that the object of his -discourse - - ——“Passed in music out of sight,” - -and his hearers after recovering from their rapture and astonishment -remained as they were before. He drew vast audiences together, wrought -effectually for the building up of some colleges, collected much money -for various agencies, was made a Bishop of the M. E. Church, South, in -compliment to his eloquence, but in real work was far inferior to many a -Methodist minister whose name is unknown to fame. - - - JOHN SUMMERFIELD. - -The eloquence of the good and noble, but early fallen Summerfield was in -sharp contrast with that of Bascom. A lady who had heard them both, gave -the preference, in some neat verses, to the latter, on the ground that -he was more grand, awe-inspiring, and tempest-like. The melody and -pathos of Summerfield she compared to the mild zephyr, and thought this -was necessarily inferior to the earth-shaking storm. But the world has -not agreed with her. Bascom held assembled thousands for hours beneath -the charm of his voice, weeping, smiling, or shouting, at his will. Yet -when all had passed, and the spell had been dissolved, the only -impression that remained was one of simple wonder. The man and his own -eloquence had risen so far above the subject he was to enunciate that -the latter faded from the mind. More earnestness for truth and sympathy -with it, would have enhanced his real power a hundredfold. - -But it was very different with Summerfield. His soul was full of -earnestness, and he moved in an atmosphere of tenderness and pathos. The -eloquence of the great Whitefield might be compared to the whirlwind, -prostrating everything in its path; that of Bascom to an iceberg glowing -in the rays of the morning sun, displaying a thousand colors, but cold -and impassive; and that of Summerfield to the light of the sun, calm and -genial, shining on fields of green, filling the air with life and light. -His speech was simple, easy, and unadorned, flowing right out of his own -heart, and awakening an answering echo in the hearts of all who heard. -The sermons which he has left are mere fragments—sketches such as he -employed in his preparation, and of course give no idea of the real -power he wielded. - -Stevens thus describes his method of preparation: - - “Though in the delivery of his sermons there was this - facility—felicity we might call it—in their preparation he was a - laborious student. He was a hearty advocate of extempore preaching, - and would have been deprived of most of his popular power in the - pulpit by being confined to a manuscript; yet he knew the importance - of study, and particularly of the habitual use of the pen in order - to success in extemporaneous speaking. His own rule was to prepare a - skeleton of his sermon, and after preaching it, write it out in - fuller detail, filling up the original sketch with the principal - thoughts which had occurred to him in the process of the discourse. - The first outline was, however, in accordance with the rule we have - elsewhere given for extempore speaking, viz., that the perspective - of the entire discourse—the leading ideas, from the exordium to the - peroration—should be noted on the manuscript, so that the speaker - shall have the assurance that he is supplied with a consecutive - series of good ideas, good enough to command the respect of his - audience, though he should fail of any very important impromptu - thoughts. This rule we deem the most essential condition of success - in extemporaneous preaching. It is the best guarantee of that - confidence and self-possession upon which depends the command of - both thought and language. Summerfield followed it even in his - platform speeches. Montgomery notices the minuteness of his - preparations in nearly two hundred manuscript sketches.” - -This great man died at the very early age of twenty-seven, having -preached seven years. But from the very first he produced a profound -impression. Dr. Bethune thus describes one of his earliest efforts in -this country. He was then scarcely known. It was at an anniversary of -the Bible Society, and an able man had just spoken with great -acceptance: - - “The chair announced the Rev. Mr. Summerfield, from England. ‘What - presumption!’ said my clerical neighbor; ‘a boy like that to be set - up after a giant!’ But the stripling came in the name of the God of - Israel, armed with ‘a few smooth stones from the brook’ that flows - ‘hard by the oracles of God.’ His motion was one of thanks to the - officers of the society for their labors during the year; and of - course he had to allude to the president, then reposing in another - part of the house; and thus he did it: ‘When I saw that venerable - man, too aged to warrant the hope of being with you at another - anniversary, _he reminded me of Jacob leaning upon the top of his - staff, blessing his children before he departed_.’ He then passed on - to encourage the society by the example of the British institution. - ‘When we first launched our untried vessel upon the deep, the storms - of opposition roared, and the waves dashed angrily around us, and we - had hard work to keep her head to the wind. We were faint with - rowing, and our strength would soon have been gone, but we cried, - ‘Lord, save us, or we perish!’ _Then a light shone upon the waters, - and we saw a form walking upon the troubled sea, like unto that of - the Son of God, and he drew near the ship, and we knew that it was - Jesus; and he stepped upon the deck, and laid his hand upon the - helm, and he said unto the winds and waves, Peace, be still, and - there was a great calm._ Let not the friends of the Bible fear; God - is in the midst of us. God shall help us, and that right early.’ In - such a strain he went on to the close. ‘Wonderful! wonderful!’ said - my neighbor the critic; ‘he talks like an angel from heaven.’” - - - C. H. SPURGEON. - -No minister now living has been heard by so many people in the same -number of years, or has been the subject of so much controversy as -Spurgeon. The great populace of London has been moved to its depths by -his preaching, and he has met with the same enthusiastic reception -wherever he has preached. He is yet very young—only thirty-four years of -age—and had become celebrated before he was twenty-one. Such speedy -recognition is certainly a proof of great merit, and his example is well -worth our attention. - -Spurgeon’s parents were poor but respectable—his father and grandfather -being Independent ministers. He early felt it his duty to preach, and -even when a child was accustomed to preach to his playmates. His father -wished him to go to college to qualify himself for the work in regular -form, but after giving the matter careful consideration he declined. -Even when he became usher at Cambridge, and began to preach -occasionally, he refused the tempting offer of a college course, and -gave it as his opinion that he was called to go to the work at once, and -not to waste years in preparation. We can hardly tell what effect a long -course of training, that would have allowed time for his fervid zeal to -cool, would have had upon his after life. About the same time he left -the church of his fathers and united with the Baptists, believing that -immersion was the proper baptism. His occasional ministrations were -marked by modesty and good sense, as well as loving earnestness. - -He was soon called to take charge of an old, but decayed church in -London. Its forlorn condition did not dismay him, and under his vigorous -care and mighty preaching the congregation became overflowing. The -building was enlarged, but the congregation grew still larger. Immense -public halls were taken, and these too were soon overflowed. His -congregation built a new church of extraordinary size, which has been -packed full on each preaching occasion ever since. Several volumes of -his sermons have been published, and have met with a ready sale. He -preaches nearly a sermon a day, corresponds with a newspaper, writes -books, superintends a ministerial school, speaks for and aids a number -of charitable institutions—altogether performing more labor than perhaps -any other preacher of our day. Yet these multiform labors are performed -with such ease and certainty that he hardly ever appears tired, and -gives no indication of breaking down. - -What is the secret of the power by which this man has reached the hearts -of the poor more fully than any other man for many years? It is admitted -on all hands that he is not a man of profound intellect. There is no -trace of unusual powers of thought either in his published or spoken -sermons. But there is a more than ordinary force of arrangement, -illustration and expression. He may not be in the first class of great -men, but he is surely foremost in the second class. He also possesses -wonderful enthusiasm. His faith is too clear for a doubt, and he is -never troubled with any misgivings regarding his own power of presenting -the truth. Confidence is a part of his nature, and enables him to bear -unmoved any amount of opposition, and, while preaching, to follow out -any suggestions of his genius. His power of language is very great. From -beginning to end of his discourse he never falters, nor uses the wrong -word. His voice is strong, clear, and melodious, making the tritest -thought interesting. But above all, he is a good man, and works solely -for the good of his hearers. This is the reason why he is not -intoxicated by his great success. He feels that the Holy Spirit labors -with him, and that the blessing of God rests upon him. - -Spurgeon is an extempore preacher in the best sense of the word. He -studies and meditates as fully as his time will permit, and at any -period is ready to give what he thus masters to the public. “I can’t -make out,” said a minister to him, “when you study, Brother Spurgeon. -When _do_ you make your sermons?” “Oh!” he replied, “I am always -studying—I am sucking in something from everything. If you were to ask -me home to dine with you, I should suck a sermon out of you.” One who -had known him, thus writes: - - “With respect to his habits of composition, he assured us that not - one word of his sermons is written before delivery, and that the - only use he makes of his pen upon them is to correct the errors of - the stenographer. His happy faculty of mere mental composition, and - of remembering what he thus composes, saves him much time and - drudgery. He can exercise it anywhere; but probably with more - success in the pulpit, while he is giving utterance to what he has - prearranged in his mind. Learning not to read manuscript out of the - pulpit is the best preparation for not reading it in the pulpit, and - he who in his study can think well, independently of it, will, in - the pulpit, think better without it; for the excitement occasioned - by speaking what he has premeditated—if that excitement does not - produce too deep feeling—will summon new thoughts to fill up the old - ranks, and lead whole divisions of fresh recruits into the field.” - -The almost irresistible attraction of Spurgeon’s ministrations may be -inferred from the following facts: - - “It was no unusual sight on a Sunday evening to see placards put up - outside of the building (Exeter Hall) announcing that it was full, - and that no more could be admitted. In his own church it has been - found necessary for the police to be present at every service, and - the pew-holders are admitted by ticket through a side door. This - accomplished, at ten minutes prior to the commencement of the - service, the doors are opened and a rush commences; but it is - speedily over, for the chapel is full—not only the seats but every - inch of standing-room being occupied, and the gates have to be - closed, with an immense crowd of disappointed expectant hearers - outside. The church has, indeed, reason to be deeply grateful that - amid the vice and immorality of London, a voice so clear and loud - has been lifted up for the cause of the Redeemer.” - - - HENRY WARD BEECHER. - -Perhaps no American minister has ever become so well known to the whole -body of the people as Henry Ward Beecher. He has been bitterly -criticised and opposed even by members of his own denomination, but has -triumphed over every attack, and won a proud place among preachers. He -has even become a power in the political world, and his devotion to the -cause of liberty has endeared him to thousands who might otherwise have -never heard his name. - -This great orator was born in 1813 in the State of Connecticut. His -father, Lyman Beecher, was a clergyman of great force and celebrity. -Young Beecher graduated at Amherst College at twenty-one, and studied -theology with his father at Lane Seminary, Cincinnati. When this was -concluded, he was first settled over a small Presbyterian church at -Lawrenceburg, Ind., where he remained two years, and then removed to -Indianapolis, and preached eight years with great acceptance. His first -sermon was so earnest and powerful that it led to the conversion of -twelve persons. A course of lectures, which he gave during this period -to young men, attracted great attention, and he was soon after called to -take charge of Plymouth Church in Brooklyn. It was then a feeble -organization; but under his care has increased to vast proportions. It -has now a membership of 1,700, and the largest regular congregation by -far of any church in the land. The income of the church from the rent of -pews is nearly $41,000! - -As a lecturer, Beecher stands among the very first. He speaks every -year, in nearly every prominent city of the Union, and thus contributes -powerfully to the success of the various reforms he advocates. He early -gave the anti-slavery movement the support of his powerful eloquence, -and preached and lectured against the great evil so effectually that no -man was more denounced and hated at the South than he. - -In the heat of our civil contest he passed some months in England, and -there spoke for the cause of liberty and Union. He met with the most -embittered opposition; the rabble, who had been incited by handbills to -come out and put him down, often roaring until his voice could no longer -be heard. He would calmly watch them until the noise for a moment -subsided, and then speak again with such effect that the victory was -soon declared in his favor. No man contributed more powerfully to allay -the prejudice of England against our nation during her sore contest. - -We do not wonder at the great popularity of Beecher. He possesses much -greater intellectual acuteness than Spurgeon, and is inferior in this -particular to no one of the orators of the present day. The variety of -topics he discusses is immense, and he brings such good sense and sound -logic to bear on them, that the people feel him to be a teacher indeed. -They go to hear him, expecting that he will apply high spiritual truth -to every day life, and are not disappointed. - -Beecher is a giant in reasoning power, and gives no light, superficial -views of anything. His feelings are very acute, and by the mere force of -sympathy he has the smiles and tears of his audience at command. His -power of illustration is wonderful; the most abstruse subject grows -plain under the light of his luminous comparisons. While his command of -language is very great, and he never hesitates for a word, his taste is -so pure that he never uses an unnecessary or objectionable term. In -fact, he speaks for the press as much as for the congregation before -him. For years his sermons have been taken down by short-hand writers, -and read all over the world. Sometimes they do not even receive a final -correction from him. This is a convincing evidence of his marvelous -popularity. His sermons are first preached to a vast assembly, and then -spread before hundreds of thousands of readers. Not only newspapers of -his own denomination, but of others, count it a great attraction to be -able to announce a weekly or semi-monthly sermon from this gifted man. - -On several occasions we were privileged to hear him, and will give some -account of the first time we listened to his eloquence. A large number -of people gathered long before the hour for service, and waited -impatiently for the opening of the door. Ten minutes before the hour the -crowd was admitted, and every vacant pew almost instantly filled. Then -seats were folded out from the ends of the pews into the aisles, and -these filled until the whole vast space was one dense mass of living -humanity; on the ground floor or in the second or third galleries there -was no unoccupied space. Many even then were forced to turn away from -the door. The preaching was plain, logical, deep, and clear rather than -brilliant. There was no florid imagery, but the light of imagination -gleamed through the whole discourse. The subject was naturally analyzed, -every part powerfully illustrated, and the application pungent enough to -reach every heart not entirely impervious. Several times a smile rippled -over the faces of the congregation, but lasted only for a moment, and -was generally the prelude for some deep and solemn impression. - -Beecher prepares his discourses with care, but neither memorizes nor -reads them. On one occasion we noticed him lay his manuscript on the -desk before him and begin to read. The description was beautiful, but -the congregation seemed indifferent, and gave no evidence of close -attention. Soon he pushed the paper away. Then every eye was bent upon -him with intensest interest. - -Beecher’s ordinary lectures give but little indication of his real -power. They are written and read in the same form to numerous audiences. -But his genius finds free play only when the manuscript is abandoned. -Then, when he speaks for a cause in which his heart is enlisted, we have -an example of what mortal eloquence can be. We once heard him at a large -meeting which he had visited as a listener. A long and rather dull -speech had been made by the orator of the evening. But Beecher was seen, -recognized, and called out. Every murmur was stilled. Laughter and tears -succeeded each other with marvelous rapidity; but he closed by a daring -apostrophe, spoken in a low tone, that thrilled to every heart, and held -all spell-hound for some moments after he had ceased to speak! It seemed -the full realization of every dream of the might and power of eloquence. - - - ANNA E. DICKINSON. - -This lady was born in 1842, and while quite young became celebrated as a -public speaker. She has not won her present position by a single -brilliant effort, but by long continued exertions and the display of -solid talent. She is a member of the Society of Friends, and early -imbibed the hatred of oppression and slavery for which that denomination -is distinguished. Her principal public speeches have been given in the -service of freedom, and to secure a higher position and a wider range of -employments for women. Her own example, as well as her teachings, has -been one of great value to her sex. - -When Miss Dickinson began to speak she had no powerful friends to aid, -and for a time her audiences were quite small. But she was too firm and -devoted to the cause she advocated to grow discouraged. And there was -something so attractive in her manner, that opposition was soon -overcome, and her audiences grew continually. She was so truthful, -earnest, elegant, and strong, that before she was twenty-one years of -age she was recognized as a power in the political world, and few voices -more eloquent than hers were lifted up on behalf of liberty and justice -during our civil war. She has also taken part in political canvassing -with great success. Her reputation as a lyceum lecturer is fully -established. In all the cities of the United States where she has spoken -large and enthusiastic audiences have greeted her. - -In speaking, she is modest, graceful, and unconstrained, with an air and -manner of perfect naturalness. There is no elaborate ornament in her -words, but they are always well chosen, and flow with the utmost ease. -Her discourses are logical, and usually bear upon a single point with -overwhelming force. Without the slightest attempt at stage effect, she -frequently displays deep emotion, and becomes totally absorbed in her -subject. Her voice is full, clear, melodious, and perfectly distinct; it -is persuasive, well modulated, and equally capable of expressing pathos, -and scorn, and command. - -With such abilities she cannot fail to be popular, and her influence, -which is always for good, is steadily widening. Yet in order to display -her full power, she requires a subject that enlists her sympathies, and -in a mere literary lecture, although always instructive, she does not -produce the same vivid impression as when roused by some injustice, or -pleading the cause of the oppressed and feeble. - -The manner of preparation by which this lady, who takes rank with the -best of American orators, has acquired such power over words and hearts, -merits attention; in response to our inquiry, she says: - - “For the first three years of my public life, speaking, with me, - was absolutely extempore; that is, I gave a general look over the - field before I rose to my feet, then talked. Since then, I - consider my subject—let it lie in my mind, and gather fresh - thoughts—statistics—what not—almost unconsciously—as a stone - gathers moss. - - “When I wish to make the speech, I arrange this mass in order and - form—make a skeleton of it on paper, and leave the filling in till I - reach the platform—then some things I have thought of are omitted, - and others thought of at the time, are substituted. The speech - changes here and there for some time, and then gradually - crystalizes—that is all. I mean, of course, what is called a regular - lyceum speech. The political speeches are made very much on my old - plan.” - - - JOHN A. BINGHAM. - -We selected one American political orator of the generation that has -just gone by as a specimen of the capabilities of extempore speech, and -will now give an instance of the present. The speaker we have chosen is -widely known. Many have listened to his eloquent words, and in the -stormy events of the last few years, his name has become a household -word. We make this choice the more readily because the character of -eloquence for which Bingham is noted, is that which many persons suppose -to be most incompatible with a spontaneous selection of words—beauteous, -elegant, melodious, and highly adorned. - -Bingham graduated, was admitted to the bar, and speedily became a -successful lawyer. He also turned his attention to political affairs, -and became known as a most efficient public canvasser for the doctrines -of the party with which he acted. This is one of the best schools in the -world for ready and vigorous speech, but has a tendency to produce -carelessness of expression, and to substitute smartness for logic and -principle. This tendency he successfully resisted, and became -distinguished for the deep moral tone, as well as for the beauty of the -language of his addresses. He was elected to Congress from an Ohio -district, and become known as one of the most eloquent members of that -body. He took a prominent part in the opposition to the Kansas and -Nebraska bill, and met the entire approval of the people. When the -Southern States commenced to secede in the winter of 1860–61 he brought -forward a force bill to compel them to submit to national authority. -This was defeated by those who thought that other means would avail. -Time proved the wisdom of his views. - -All through the contest that followed, his voice was heard on the side -of liberty and Union. He soon became known as one of the leaders of the -Republican party, and has nobly held that position to the date of -writing. - -Mr. Bingham, in speaking, is calm, clear and pointed. His manner -indicates confidence, and his words flow freely. Imagination is allowed -full play, and the spirit of poetry breathes everywhere. He abounds in -lofty and beautiful imagery, that places the truth in the clearest -light. While the subject is never lost sight of, a thousand graces and -beauties cluster around it from every hand. From the elevation and -certainty of his language, many casual hearers have been led to imagine -that his speeches were written and committed. But the reverse is the -case. Some of his highest efforts have been made with no time even for -the prearrangement of thought. This is one secret of his great success -as a debater. He is always ready, with or without warning, to speak the -thoughts that are in his mind. But he prefers, of course, to have time -to arrange his matter in advance. - -The following passage will illustrate the force of Mr. Bingham’s thought -and expression. It is from a speech in reply to Wadsworth, and was -entirely unstudied: - - “As the gentleman then and now has chosen to assail me for this, I - may be pardoned for calling his attention to the inquiry, what - further did I say in that connection, on that day, and in the - hearing of the gentleman? I said that every loyal citizen in this - land held his life, his property, his home, and the children of his - house, a sacred trust for the common defence. Did that remark excite - any horror in the gentleman’s mind. Not at all I undertook, in my - humble way, to demonstrate that, by the very letter and spirit of - the Constitution, you had a right to lay the lives and the property - and the homes, the very hearth-stones of the honest and the just and - the good, under contribution by law, that the Republic might live. - Did that remark excite any abhorrence in the gentleman, or any - threat that fifteen slave States would be combined against us? Not - at all. I stated in my place just as plainly, that by your law you - might for the common defence not only take the father of the house, - but the eldest born of his house, to the tented field by force of - your conscription, if need be, and subject him to the necessary - despotism of military rule, to the pestilence of the camp, and the - destruction of the battle-field. And yet the gentleman was not - startled with the horrid vision of a violated Constitution, and - there burst from his indignant lips no threat that if we did this - there would be a union of fifteen slave States against the Federal - despotism. I asserted in my place, further, that after you had taken - the father and his eldest born away, and given them both to death a - sacrifice for their country, you could, by the very terms of the - Constitution, take away the shelter of the roof-tree which his own - hands had reared for the protection of the wife and the children - that were left behind, and quarter your soldiers beneath it, that - the Republic might live. And yet the gentleman saw no infraction of - the Constitution, and made no threat of becoming the armed ally of - the rebellion. But the moment that I declared my conviction that the - public exigencies and the public necessities required, that the - Constitution and the oaths of the people’s Representatives required, - that by your law—the imperial mandate of the people—the proclamation - of liberty should go forth over all that rebel region, declaring - that every slave in the service of these infernal conspirators - against your children and mine, against your homes and mine, against - your Constitution and mine, against the sacred graves of your - kindred and mine, shall be free, the gentleman rises startled with - the horrid vision of broken fetters and liberated bondmen, treason - overthrown, and a country redeemed, regenerated, and forever - reunited, and cries, No; this shall not be; fifteen States will - combine against you. Slavery is the civilizer; you shall neither - denounce it as an ‘infernal atrocity,’ nor overthrow it to save the - Union. I repeat the word which so moved the gentleman from his - propriety, that chattel slavery is an ‘infernal atrocity.’ I thank - God that I learned to lisp it at my mother’s knee. It is a logical - sequence, sir, disguise it as you may, from that golden rule which - was among the first utterances of all of us, ‘whatsoever ye would - that men should do unto you, do ye so even unto them.’” - -The second instance is taken from a speech on the proposal to furnish -relief to the Southerners who were in a destitute and starving condition -after the close of the war. - - “No war rocks the continent, no armed rebellion threatens with - overthrow the institutions of the country. The pillars of the holy - temple of our liberties do not tremble in the storm of battle; the - whole heavens are no longer covered with blackness, and the - habitations of the people are no longer filled with lamentation and - sorrow for their beautiful slain upon the high places of the land! - Thanks be to God! the harvest of death is ended and the sickle has - dropped from the hands of the ‘pale reapers’ on the field of mortal - combat. - - “Sir, you may apply in the day of war the iron rule of war, and say - that the innocent and unoffending in the beleagured city shall - perish with the guilty; but when war’s dread alarm has ended, as - happily it has with us, when the broken battalions of rebellion have - surrendered to the victorious legions of the Republic, let no man - stand within the forum of the people and utter the horrid blasphemy - that you shall not have regard for the famishing poor, that you - shall not give a cup of water to him that is ready to perish in the - name of our Master, that you shall not even relieve the wants of - those who have never offended against the laws. The unoffending - little children are not enemies of your country or of mine; the - crime of treason is not upon their souls. Surely, surely they are - not to be denied your care. The great French patriot, banished from - the empire for his love of liberty, gathered little children around - him in his exile at Guernsey, and fed them from his own table, - uttering the judgment of our common humanity in its best estate; - ‘Little children at least are innocent, for God wills it so.’” - - - WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE. - -This great statesman and orator is an extempore speaker, and one of the -best in the world. He has not, perhaps, the fiery force of John Bright, -who, like himself, speaks without previous preparation of words, but far -surpasses him in variety and elegance. His speech, like a prism, -reflects a thousand shades of color, and the dullest subject under his -treatment blooms into life and light. His style is more like that of -Cicero than of Demosthenes, being diffuse, sparkling, graceful—flowing -like a river, that is always full to the brim. He is prepared at any -hour of day or night to take part in any discussion of interest to him. -Even when he is explaining details of finance, usually the driest of -subjects, he is listened to with delighted interest. By the mere force -of his talents he has raised himself to a commanding position in -England, and as a writer has also attracted much attention. - -Gladstone is of a light and nervous build, has a very sweet and -attractive countenance, and a rich and fascinating voice. As a debater -he is almost faultless, unless his want of harshness and maliciousness -be called a fault. Sometimes, too, he shows a disposition to yield -rather than contend, but never when principle is at stake. To him, -perhaps more than any other, belongs the credit of the great reform bill -which has almost changed the government of Great Britain. - -The following extract from a communication on the subject of extempore -speaking will be read with deep interest: - - “HAWANDEN, NORTH WALES, Oct. 12, 1867. - - ... “I venture to remark, first, that your countrymen, so far as a - very limited intercourse and experience can enable me to judge, - stand very little in need of instruction or advice as to public - speaking from this side of the water. And further, again speaking of - my own experience, I think that the public men of England are, - beyond all others, engrossed by the multitude of cares and subjects - of thought belonging to the government of a highly diversified - empire, and therefore are probably less than others qualified either - to impart to others the best methods of preparing public discourses, - or to consider and adopt them for themselves. - - “Suppose, however, I were to make the attempt, I should certainly - found myself on a double basis, compounded as follows: First, of a - wide and thorough general education, which, I think, gives a - suppleness and readiness, as well as a firmness of tissue to the - mind, not easily obtained without this form of discipline. Secondly, - of the habit of constant and searching reflection on the _subject_ - of any proposed discourse. Such reflection will naturally clothe - itself in words, and of the phrases it supplies, many will - spontaneously rise to the lips. I will not say that no other forms - of preparation can be useful, but I know little of them, and it is - on these, beyond all doubt, that I would advise the young - principally to rely. - - “I remain, &c., W. E. GLADSTONE. - - “W. PITTENGER.” - - - MATTHEW SIMPSON. - -This distinguished divine was born in Cadiz, O., in 1811, began to -preach in 1833, and was elected Bishop of the M. E. Church in 1852. At -the very beginning of his ministerial career, his sermons made a deep -impression, and his early promise has been abundantly realized. - -As a lecturer he has also acquired a deservedly high rank. During the -war of the rebellion he delivered a discourse on the “Future of Our -Country,” in the principal cities of the United States, which gave him a -more than denominational fame. This lecture has probably never been -surpassed as a summing up of the resources of the nation, and an -application of the data to the prediction of the probable destiny and -form of our government. As far as words were concerned, it was an -extempore address, and had the peculiarity that might be expected from -this fact, of being much better delivered, and therefore, of making a -much more profound impression at some points than others. - -Simpson travels continually, preaching at conferences, dedicating -churches, and delivering lectures, thus being brought into close contact -with the people in all parts of the country. He has little resemblance -to the popular ideal of an orator. His action is ungraceful, and his -voice low and almost monotonous. He is also hard worked, and not having -the powers of endurance possessed by some of our incessant preachers, he -usually appears tired and exhausted. Yet he has three qualities that go -far to make up for these defects. He is intensely earnest and real. -Before listening to him five minutes his hearers are convinced that he -is speaking the very thoughts of his soul without evasion or pretense. -He also has great imagination, and, as a consequence, the statement of -facts, in which he abounds, is never dry or tedious. And lastly, he has -great command of condensed and expressive language. What he wishes to -say is said in a few words, and every sermon is filled with the -materials of thought rather than with mere verbiage. These qualities -atone for every deficiency of external grace, and place him among the -most popular ministers of the Methodist Church. - -Simpson preaches entirely extempore, having no time to write, even if he -had the disposition. His memory is tenacious, and his power of -observation keen, so that he is never at a loss for facts or -illustrations. He has a tender heart also, and often appeals to his own -vivid experiences, thus drawing the sympathies of the people with him. - - - WENDELL PHILLIPS. - -There can scarcely be a doubt that Wendell Phillips is the greatest -professional lecturer of the present day. He is always radical, and on -the extremest verge of every question, although in many things the -people have followed hard on his footsteps. As a speaker, he has great -power, combined with unsurpassed elegance. His manner is calm, his voice -of silvery sweetness, yet every rounded sentence is full of living -flame, and no man is so unsparing in his denunciations. In a style as -lucid, exact, and pure as that of a scholar who has been all his life -secluded from the world, and busied with literature alone, he utters -words and sentences befitting the stormiest revolution. - -The lectures of Phillips, which are repeated again and again, are, of -course, well studied and the language followed pretty closely, though -not invariably. But like Mirabeau, it is in his unstudied speeches that -he rises highest. The first address that gave him public fame was of -this character. A meeting had been called in Boston to pass resolutions -of indignation on the occasion of the murder of Lovejoy, who was killed -in Illinois for his devotion to freedom. The whole business of the -meeting was arrested, and the resolutions were on the point of being -defeated by the powerful opposition of a leading politician, who feared -even to say that murder was wrong. Phillips was present as a listener, -but could keep his seat no longer, and, arising, gave vent to his -feelings in a speech so full of thrilling and indignant eloquence, that -the purpose of the meeting was at once secured, and he himself brought -before the public as one of the first orators of the age. - -In regard to the manner of his preparation Phillips himself refers to -the celebrated letter of Lord Brougham to the father of Macaulay, on the -training of his son in eloquence. The substance of Brougham’s advice is, -to first acquire the power of speaking freely and easily before an -audience, no matter at what sacrifice of accuracy and elegance. This, he -says truly, can only be done by much practice. When this is -accomplished, he recommends studying and committing to memory the -orations of Demosthenes until their spirit is fully imbibed. - - - JOHN P. DURBIN. - -This traveler, scholar, and preacher, adds another one to the long and -illustrious list of those who have triumphed over every hindrance and -risen to eminence. He was born in 1800. A district school afforded him -all the education he obtained before entering the Methodist itineracy, -but while enduring the hardships of a pioneer minister he studied -diligently, perusing his Bible and commentaries around the log fires of -his parishioners whenever even this poor opportunity occurred. When he -was appointed to Cincinnati a more promising field opened. He went to -college during the week, and still filled his pulpit on the Sabbath. He -soon after became a professor in a college, and afterward chaplain to -Congress, where he was highly distinguished. Then he served a time as -editor of the _New York Advocate_, and became President of Dickenson -College. Next he traveled through the old world, as far as Egypt and -Syria, and, returning, wrote a very interesting account of his journey. -He was, lastly, elected Corresponding Secretary of the M. E. Missionary -Society—a position which he has held for years, and which brings him -into contact with large masses of people in every part of the country. - -The merits of Durbin as an orator are many and high. He possesses deep -feeling, and the tears of the people to whom he preaches are at his -command. There is a greatness about his character that is always felt, -and with it a childlike simplicity that endears him to every heart. -There is an utter absence of the pretension we sometimes find about -those who are conscious of the possession of great powers. His -arrangement of every sermon is plain, simple, and easily remembered. His -command of words is complete, and he always finds just the one he wants -without hesitation. The tones of his voice are affectionate and -pleasing, though when not called into animation by some subject worthy -of his powers, a little monotonous, yet so strong that when he seems to -be only talking at the pitch of common conversation, every word can be -heard to the extremity of the largest church. But his voice can be -raised to a thunder peal that is the more impressive because it is -seldom employed. The perfect ease with which he preaches, is far -different from the manner of those who have memorized every word and are -full of anxiety for its effect. Often while he talks away with apparent -indifference, every eye is fixed on his, or moistened with tears. When -we heard him, some of his images were overwhelmingly sublime, and we -held our breath in awe; at other times his explanations seemed to throw -new and radiant light on what was before dark and obscure. - -The mode by which Durbin attained his great success is worthy of careful -attention. In a communication to the compiler of these notices, he says: - - ... “I never wrote my sermons—not more than two or three in my - life—and these not till after I had preached them. My plan has been - to have a well-defined topic, and only such subdivisions as - naturally arise out of the topic. I generally put them down - separately on a small piece of paper, which I take into the pulpit, - but scarcely ever use. This is commonly called a _skeleton_. I do - not write out anything I propose to say, but carefully think over - the main points; but never commit them to memory. I keep within - living touch of my skeleton, but depend on the natural - consecutiveness of thought to enable me to clothe it with muscle; - and I depend on the inspiration of the occasion to give it life and - color. The inspiration is partly human and partly divine; arising - from the combined action of the divine and the human spirit, which - combined action constitutes the power of a _preached_ gospel. - - “So far as human ability is concerned, I believe that this is the - secret of any success I have had in preaching the Gospel.” - - - NEWMAN HALL. - -The _Evangelist_ gives Rev. Newman Hall’s account of how he learned -extempore preaching, as follows: - - “When I went to college, it seemed to me that I should never be able - to say a word in public without writing. But I soon determined that - if I was going to be a preacher, and particularly if I wanted to be - anything like a successful preacher, I _must_ form the habit of - extemporaneous address. So I went into my room, locked the door, - placed the Bible before me on a mantel, opened it at random, and - then on whatever passage my eye chanced to rest, proceeded to - deliver a discourse of ten minutes. This practice was kept up an - entire twelve months. Every day, for a whole year, ten minutes were - given to that kind of speaking, in my own room by myself. At first I - found it very difficult to speak so long right to the point. But - then if I couldn’t talk _on_ the subject I would talk _about_ - it—making good remarks and moral reflections—being careful to keep - up the flow, and say something to the end of the term allotted for - the exercise. At the end of the twelve months, however, I found I - could not only speak with a good degree of fluency, but that I could - hold myself strictly to the subject in hand. You take this course. - Don’t do your practising on an audience. That is outrageous.” - - - - - APPENDIX. - - - - - I. - THE CHAIRMAN’S GUIDE. - ORDER OF PROCEEDINGS IN VARIOUS MEETINGS. - - -When the business of an assembly is limited to hearing one man speak, -there is little need of rules. But when there are several speeches, and -various kinds of business are mingled with them, the subject of order -becomes important. Many a fluent speaker may be embarrassed because he -does not know just when he ought to speak, and how to introduce what he -desires. A member of Congress, for instance, cannot be efficient, no -matter what his talents, until he masters the rules of business. Even in -smaller and less formal assemblies it is of great advantage to every -one, especially if called upon to preside, as all may be in this land of -discussions, to know just how to fulfil the duties imposed on him. In -this short, and necessarily imperfect sketch, we will only aim to give -those simple forms of parliamentary law that will often be needed by -every man who essays to speak at all. - -Every society has the right to form its own laws, and whenever it does -positively determine any matter, the general rules of order are -superseded to that extent. But it would be an endless task for any body -to provide beforehand for every case that might occur, and the greater -part of these are always left to be decided by general usage. This -usage, which has been growing up for years, now covers almost every -possible point. An eminent authority says: “It is much more material -that there should be a rule to go by than what that rule is, for then -the standard cannot be changed to suit the caprice or interest of the -chairman, or more active members, and all are assured of justice.” - -The same rules apply to all assemblies, with a few modifications, which -are readily suggested by the nature of the assembly. We will give a few -of the special applications first, and afterward the general rules. - - - RELIGIOUS ASSEMBLIES. - -The regular public service of churches which have a ritual is governed -by it, and in those which have none, usage always fixes a course from -which the preacher should not vary without good reasons. The most common -mode of procedure in churches that are governed by unwritten custom is, -first, a short invocation of God’s blessing on the service. This is -omitted in the Methodist church and some others. Then follows the -reading and singing of a hymn; prayer, the reading of a Scripture lesson -(which is frequently omitted in evening service), singing again and -preaching. There are several modes of closing. Sometimes the order is: -prayer; singing a hymn, with doxology attached; and benediction. -Sometimes singing comes first, then prayer, and the benediction -pronounced while the congregation is in the attitude of prayer. -Sometimes there are four distinct acts; singing a hymn; prayer; singing -the doxology; and benediction. The order in which these modes of closing -are stated is, in our opinion, also the order of preference. - -Business and congregational meetings are governed by the common rules of -order. - - - ANNIVERSARIES, CELEBRATIONS, ETC. - -In meetings of this character, the object usually is to enjoy a pleasant -time, hear speeches, and pass resolutions that have been prepared -beforehand, and on which no discussion is expected. In Sunday-school -celebrations, and other meetings of the same nature, let a programme be -formed, with each performance in its order, and either printed and -distributed or read as soon as the meeting is called to order. This must -be done at the proper time by the superintendent, or some one appointed -for the purpose, who will act as chairman, and introduce each speaker in -his turn. Any resolutions offered should be in writing, and also read by -him, and put to vote in the regular form. When the exercises are closed -the meeting will be dismissed without waiting for a motion to adjourn. - -In anniversary meetings of a more formal character, it is common to have -each speaker supplied, in advance, with a resolution on which he is to -speak. At the proper time he will arise, offer the resolution, and make -his address. If it is desirable to have more than one speech on that -resolution, the next can second the motion and speak in the same way. -Then the resolution may be put in the common form. This can be continued -until all the resolutions and speakers are disposed of. - - - LITERARY AND EDUCATIONAL SOCIETIES. - -In the societies usually attached to colleges, everything should be done -with the most scrupulous regularity, and thus the rules of public -business fully learned. It is well also for them to have a certain order -by which all their exercises shall be governed, and everything made to -move on with the regularity of clockwork. A committee can easily -construct such a plan, and it can be amended as desired. It should -always have a department for miscellaneous business. - -Literary societies and debating clubs are very commonly formed in -villages and school districts, and when properly carried on can scarcely -fail to be profitable. Many a person has received his first lesson in -eloquence in such a school, and the fluency and confidence a boy or -young man can acquire in them may be of life-long advantage. Their -organization may be very simple. A meeting has been called by some one -who is interested in the matter, and when the people are met he calls -them to order, nominates a chairman, puts the question, and at the -request of the chair explains the object of the meeting. Some one then -moves to appoint a committee to draft a Constitution and By-laws. It is -best for the committee to have these previously prepared, that no time -may be lost. The following form, taken from “How to Talk,” with a few -modifications, will be all that is needed in most cases: - - - CONSTITUTION. - - - ARTICLE I.—_Name._ - - This Society shall be known as the of - - - ARTICLE II.—_Objects._ - - The object of this Society shall be the improvement of its Members - in debating, and the promotion of their intellectual, social, and - moral advancement. - - - ARTICLE III.—_Membership._ - - Any person of good moral character may become a member of this - Society, by signing the Constitution and paying the initiation fee. - [In some cases it may be necessary to receive Members by a vote of - the Society, after being regularly proposed.] - - - ARTICLE IV.—_Officers and their Duties._ - - The Officers of this Society shall consist of a President, a - Vice-President, a Secretary, and a Treasurer; each of whom shall be - elected by ballot, and their duties shall be the same as are - generally required of such officers in similar societies. - - - ARTICLE V.—_Amendments._ - - No addition, alteration, or amendment shall be made to this - Constitution without a vote of two-thirds of the Members present, - and no motion to amend shall be acted upon at the same meeting at - which it is proposed. - - - BY-LAWS. - - - ARTICLE I.—_Meetings._ - - SEC. 1.—This Society shall meet on the of each for the - promotion of its objects and the transaction of business. - - SEC. 2.—There shall be an annual meeting on the of for the - election of Officers, and to hear the reports of the Secretary and - Treasurer. - - SEC. 3.—Special meetings may be called by the President at the - request of Members. - - - ARTICLE II.—_Initiation Fee._ - - All persons received into this Society shall pay the sum of on - signing the Constitution. - - - ARTICLE III.—_Dues._ - - All Members shall pay the sum of per month, to be appropriated, - with the initiation fees, to defraying the expenses of the Society; - and no Member who may be in arrears for dues more than two months - shall be allowed to speak or vote on any question till such - arrearages shall be paid. - - - ARTICLE IV.—_Expulsions._ - - Any Member who shall refuse to conform to the Constitution and - By-laws, or shall be guilty of repeated disorderly conduct, shall be - subjected to expulsion by a vote of two-thirds of the Members - present; but no motion to expel a Member shall be acted upon at the - same meeting at which it is offered. - - - ARTICLE V.—_Amendments._ - - The same rule in reference to amendments shall apply to the By-laws - as to the Constitution. - -The Constitution when presented may be discussed, and put to vote, -altogether, or article by article; if adopted, it becomes the law of the -meeting. A list of members will then be made out, including all who -desire to be enrolled, and are willing to pay the initiation fee. Then a -new election of officers should be held, with those only who are members -voting. The old chairman will retain his seat until the new one is -elected. When it is intended to have performances of different kinds, as -essays, orations, debates, etc., it is well to appoint a committee to -draw up a regular order in which these will be called for. The society -being now organized, may proceed to business, or fix the time for next -meeting and adjourn. - - - WARD, DISTRICT, OR TOWNSHIP MEETINGS. - -When one or more persons desire to call a meeting for any purpose, there -is often great confusion and uncertainty as to the mode of procedure. A -few simple rules will go far to obviate all difficulty. In the call, -those only who are favorable to the intended object should be invited, -and if others attend, they should take no part in the meeting, unless -challenged to discussion. - -The responsibility for the guidance of the meeting until its regular -organization, rests on those who have called it. When the people have -met at the appointed time, one of these will ask them to come to order, -and will then nominate a chairman; when this is seconded, he will put it -to vote, and call the man elected to the chair, who will put all other -motions. A secretary also should be elected, and then the meeting is -regularly organized. The chairman next states the object of the meeting, -or if he prefers, calls upon one of those interested to do it. - -Some one will then move the appointment of a committee (which is said to -be the American panacea for everything) to prepare resolutions -expressive of the wishes or opinion of the meeting. If the names of the -persons to compose the committee be not mentioned in the original -motion, it is usual for the chairman to name them, putting the name of -the mover first on the list. The chairman may, for good reasons, excuse -any one of the committee from acting, if there be no objections on the -part of the assembly. But if there are, he can only be excused by vote. -The committee then require some time to make their report, and it is -common for the chairman to call on some one, who ought to be notified -beforehand, for a speech. When the committee have finished their -business they will return, and waiting until no one is speaking, their -chairman will address the chairman of the meeting, telling him that they -are ready to report. If no objection is made, the resolutions prepared -are then read, and are at the disposal of the meeting. They may be -treated separately, or together, amended, adopted or rejected. The -resolutions may be prepared beforehand, in which case the appointment of -the committee may be dispensed with. If the resolutions should not be -satisfactory, they may be recommitted. - -When the resolutions have been disposed of, the speaker will announce -that there is no business before the house, which will either bring a -motion to adjourn, or new business. - - - DELEGATED BODIES. - -All legislatures, boards of directors, etc., hold their power only in -trust for others who are not present, and are therefore held to stricter -limitations in the performance of business than those assemblies which -act only for themselves. In case the right of any delegate is disputed, -this must be settled as soon as possible. In nearly all such meetings it -is also provided that many things shall not be considered as determined -until referred back to those by whom the members were chosen. With these -exceptions, and the special rules that such bodies may provide, they are -under the strict government of parliamentary law. - - - CONTINUED MEETINGS. - -When any body holds sessions at intervals, it becomes necessary to bear -in mind what has been previously done. This is accomplished by having -the minutes of each meeting read at the beginning of the next, and if -any mistakes exist they are corrected. This enables the assembly to take -up the business where it closed, and proceed as if there had been no -interruption. It is also well to have a certain order of business fixed, -which shall always suggest what is proper to be done and prevent -confusion. This order will necessarily differ in the various kinds of -meetings. Legislative bodies, from the great variety of business brought -before them, can seldom fix on any order that can be followed from day -to day, but they often establish a regular order for a certain time. -Matthias suggested the following arrangement for business meetings of -bank directors, railway stockholders, etc.: - -1. Presenting communications from parties outside of the meeting. A -communication is read, and motions for action on it may be made, -amended, and passed or rejected. After this has been done, or if no -motion is made, the next communication is taken up. - -2. Reports of standing committees. The chairman will call for these in -their order, and each one, if prepared, will be read by the chairman of -the committee. It should close with a resolution of some kind, and when -it is moved and seconded that this be adopted, it may be discussed and -determined as the assembly see fit. The minority of a committee may make -a separate report if they wish. - -3. Treasurer’s report. - -4. Unfinished business. - -5. New business. - - - - - II. - GENERAL RULES OF ORDER. - QUORUM—RULES—DECISION. - - -1. In bodies which have a fixed number of members, a certain proportion -most be present to make the transaction of business valid. The number -may be fixed by the expression of the assembly, or its general custom. -In the absence of any other rule, a majority is sufficient. The chairman -should not take his seat until he sees that a quorum is present, and if -the assembly is at any time reduced below this number, nothing but -adjournment is in order. - -2. The assembly may make its own rules in whole or in part, but whatever -it does not determine, shall be subject to the common rules of order. - -Any member has a right to insist on the enforcement of the rules, but -this duty belongs especially to the chair. - -3. In the absence of any special rule, the consent of a majority of the -members voting is requisite to determine any point. A plurality, where -more than two issues are presented, is not sufficient. - - - OFFICERS. - -Presiding and recording officers are necessary in every meeting, and -must be chosen by an absolute majority. When the assembly has financial -matters to manage, a treasurer must also be elected. - - - PRESIDING OFFICER. - -This officer is known by various titles, such as chairman, president, -speaker, moderator, etc. We will use the first. The chairman represents -the assembly, declares its will, and obeys it implicitly. He must be -treated with great respect, although his power is only a delegated one, -and may be set aside by the declared will of the assembly. His principal -duties are: - -1. To begin the session by taking the chair and calling the members to -order. - -2. To announce business in its order. - -3. To submit all motions and propositions. - -4. To put all questions and announce the result. - -6. To restrain members within rules of order. - -6. To receive all communications and announce them to the assembly. - -7. To sign public documents. - -8. To decide points of order, subject to an appeal to the assembly. - -The chairman should fully understand all the rules of business, be kind -and courteous to all, but prompt and firm, for on him, more than any -other, the order and harmony of every meeting depends. - -In the absence of the chairman, the vice-president takes the chair, and -when there is no such officer, a temporary chairman must be elected. - -The chairman may read while sitting, but should rise to state a question -or take a vote. - - - RECORDING OFFICER. - -Secretary or clerk is the name usually bestowed on this officer. We will -employ the first. It is his duty to keep a true record of all that is -done in the assembly. Speeches and motions that do not prevail, need not -be recorded. But it is sometimes customary, when it is intended to -publish the proceedings, and no reporter is present, for the secretary -to make the minutes take the form of a journal. - -2. The secretary must keep all papers that belong to the society in -safety; read them when ordered; call the roll; notify committees of -their appointment and business; and sign all orders and proceedings of -the assembly. - -3. A temporary secretary must be elected during the absence of the -permanent one, unless there is an assistant to take his place. - -4. The secretary should always stand in reading, or calling the roll. - - - MEMBERS. - -1. All members are on a footing of absolute equality, and in every form -of business the same courtesy and attention should be shown to each one -by the chair and by all other members. - -2. Every member is expected to observe strict decorum in his behavior. -Standing, walking about, interrupting speakers, hissing, whispering, -taking books or papers from the speaker’s table, are all breaches of -decorum. - -3. Any member accused of disorderly behavior may, when the charge is -stated, be heard in his own behalf, and is then required to withdraw, -until the assembly decides as to his guilt and punishment. He may be -reprimanded, required to apologize, or expelled. - - - MOTIONS. - -1. Business can only be introduced into an assembly by a motion. -Persons, not members, may make communications, or send petitions asking -for the doing of certain things; but these must be taken by one of the -members, and by him read or presented to the assembly. It is then before -the body for consideration, but nothing can be done with it until a -motion is made by some one belonging to the assembly. - -2. An assembly expresses its opinion by a resolution, commands by an -order, and determines its own action by a vote. A member who wishes to -secure either of these, draws it up in the form he desires it to bear, -and moves that the assembly adopt what he proposes. He must first obtain -the floor. This is done by rising and addressing the chairman by his -title. If there be no previous claimant, the chairman responds by -mentioning the speaker’s name, when he is at liberty to go on. When he -has made his motion, another member must second it before the assembly -will receive it or pay any attention to it. The chair or any member may -insist on the motion being written, unless it is one of the kind that -have a certain form, such as to adjourn, etc. The motion when seconded, -is to be stated by the chair, when it becomes the property of the -assembly, and is ready for debate or such other action as may be -preferred. Suggestions and modifications of the motion may be made, or -it may be withdrawn altogether, before this; but not after, without -leave of the assembly formally expressed. No other motion, with some -exceptions to be hereafter explained, can be entertained until the first -is disposed of. - -When a motion is made the assembly may do one of five things with it. - -1. Decide it in the shape it then has. - -2. Suppress all consideration of it or action on it. - -3. Postpone it until a future time. - -4. Refer it to a committee to be put in a better form. - -5. Amend it themselves before deciding it. - -We will consider these different ways of treating a question in their -order. - - - 1.—DECISION. - -It is always to be taken for granted that the assembly is willing to -decide a motion at once, unless some one moves to adopt one of the other -courses. It may be repeated first, and when no one rises, the chair asks -if they are ready for the question; if no one responds, it is put to -vote. - - - 2.—SUPPRESSION. - -1. Sometimes the assembly does not wish to discuss a motion at all. In -that case a member may move that it be indefinitely postponed. If this -is debated, the matter remains as it was before. If it prevails, the -matter is ended, and can only be brought up as a new question. - -2. The motion to lay a subject on the table has nearly the same effect. -If it prevails, the subject cannot be taken up without a motion to that -effect. - -3. The famous “previous question” has a totally different purpose in -this country and England. There it is used to postpone a question. Its -form is, “Shall the main question now be put?” and it is moved by those -who wish to obtain a negative decision, the effect of which is to remove -the question from before the house for that day, and by usage for the -whole session. - -4. In this country it is used to prevent debate, and is only moved by -those who wish an affirmative decision. When this is carried the -question must be voted upon without further remarks. A majority ought to -use this power of stopping debate very sparingly, and never without good -reason. - - - 3.—POSTPONEMENT. - -If the assembly is not prepared to act upon a question, or has more -important business before it, the proper course is for some one to move -that it be postponed until a certain time. If no time is fixed the -question is suppressed altogether. If the assembly is dissolved before -the appointed day, the effect is the same. - - - 4.—COMMITMENT. - -If the form of the motion is crude, it may be given into the hands of a -committee to perfect. If it first came from a committee, it may be given -back to them, which is called a recommitment. The whole or a part of a -subject may be committed, and the assembly may, by vote, give such -instructions as it desires. This motion is sometimes made use of for the -purpose of procuring further information. - - - 5.—AMENDMENT. - -The assembly may alter, increase, or diminish any proposition at its -pleasure. Its nature is often changed entirely. - -1. Every complicated question may be divided by a regular vote. This is -usually done, if no objection is offered, without a vote, but it cannot -be required by a single member as is sometimes stated. A motion to -divide should specify the manner of division. - -2. If blanks are left in resolutions, these must be filled by motion. If -these embrace figures, and several numbers are proposed, that which -includes the others may be put to vote first. But it is usually as well -to put first that which is moved first. - -3. All motions to amend, except by division, must be to amend by -inserting or adding, or by striking out, or both. - -4. An amendment may be accepted by the mover of a resolution, if no -objection is made, for then general consent is presumed; but not -otherwise. - -5. It is strict parliamentary law to begin with the beginning of a -proposition, and after the latter part is amended, not to return to a -former part; but this is seldom insisted on in common societies. - -6. Every amendment is susceptible of amendment, but this can go no -further. But the second amendment may be defeated, and then a new one -made to the principal amendment. - -7. Whatever is agreed to, or disagreed to by the acceptance or rejection -of an amendment cannot again be changed. - -8. What is struck out cannot be inserted by another amendment, unless -with such additions as to make it a new question. Neither can what is -retained be changed. - -9. Before putting the question on an amendment, the passage should be -read as it was; then the amendment; lastly the passage as amended. - -10. A paragraph that is inserted by vote Cannot be changed, but it may -be amended before the question is put. - -11. When the amendment is both to strike out and insert, these two may -be divided by vote or general consent, and then the question is taken -first on striking out. - - - PREFERRED MOTIONS. - -When a motion is before the assembly, it must be disposed of before -anything else can be brought forward, with the exception of three -classes of questions. These are privileged, incidental, and subsidiary -questions. - - - 1.—PRIVILEGED QUESTIONS. - -1. The motion to adjourn takes precedence of every other, except when it -has been moved and defeated, when it shall not be moved again until -something else has been done. It cannot be moved while a member is -speaking, or a vote being taken. But to be entitled to such precedence, -it must be a simple motion to adjourn, without question of time or -place. If these are added, it must take its regular turn. An adjournment -without any time being fixed, is equivalent to a dissolution, unless -this has been provided for by custom or especial rule. At adjournment -every pending question is taken from before the assembly, and can only -be brought up again in the regular way. - -2. Any question affecting the rights and privileges of members, as in -quarreling, the intrusion of strangers, etc., comes next in order to -adjournment, and displaces everything else. - -3. If the assembly fix on an order of business for a certain time, when -that time arrives, a motion to take up this order has precedence of all -questions, but the two preceding. - - - 2.—INCIDENTAL QUESTIONS. - -Incidental questions are those that grow out of other questions, and -must be decided before them. - -1. Questions of order. If there is a breach of rules it is the duty of -the chair to enforce them, and any member to call for their enforcement. -This should be done at once. When there is a doubt as to what -constitutes a breach of the rules, it is first decided by the chair, -subject to an appeal to the assembly, which may be put in this form, -“Shall the decision of the chair stand as the decision of the assembly?” -On this the chair may debate as well as others, but the vote is final. - -2. When papers are laid on the secretary’s table for the information of -the assembly, any member may demand to have them read; but other papers -can only be read after a regular motion is carried to that effect. - -3. After a motion is stated by the chair, permission may be given to -withdraw it by a regular vote. - -4. A rule that interferes with the transaction of any business may be -suspended by a unanimous vote, or in accordance with the provisions of a -special rule which points out the majority requisite, such as -two-thirds, three-fourths, etc. - - - 3.—SUBSIDIARY QUESTIONS. - -These relate to the principal question as secondary planets do to their -primaries. They are of different degrees among themselves, and with a -few exceptions are not applied to one another. - -1. “Lie on the table.” This takes precedence of all the subsidiary -motions. If carried, it takes the principal question and all that -belongs to it from the consideration of the assembly, and they can only -be brought up by a new motion. If decided in the negative, this -question, like all the others of the same class, except the previous -question, has no effect whatever. - -2. “Previous question.” This motion can only be superseded by that to -lay on the table. If lost, the question is not before the house for the -remainder of that day. - -3. A motion to postpone may be amended by fixing the time or changing -it. If several days are mentioned, the longest time should be put first. - -4. A motion to commit takes precedence of a motion to amend, but stands -in the same rank with the others, except to lay on the table, and cannot -be superseded by them, if moved first. - -5. A motion to amend may be amended. It is not superseded by the -previous question, or a motion for indefinite postponement, but is by a -motion to postpone till a time certain, or to commit. - -It is very important that the order of these secondary questions be -carefully observed, as there may be many of them pending at once. - - - DEBATE. - -Debate in a society organized for the purpose of discussion, and in a -deliberative body are quite different. In the former reply is expected, -and may be bandied back and forth several times. In the latter the -object is supposed to be giving information, and each member is limited -to one speech, unless special permission is received to speak again. The -chair must not take part in debates. - -1. When a member wishes to speak, he obtains the floor in the same -manner as if to offer a motion. The mover of a resolution is usually -allowed the floor first, but this is a matter of courtesy rather than -right. - -2. When a speaker gives up the floor for any purpose, he loses his right -to it, though as a favor he is often allowed to continue his speech. - -3. No names are to be used in debate, but when it becomes necessary to -designate an individual, some description may be used, as, the gentleman -on the right, etc. - -4. Every member must stand, when speaking, unless sick or disabled. - -5. Motions to adjourn, to lay on the table, for the previous question, -or the order of the day cannot be debated. - -6. No member shall use abusive language against any of the acts of the -assembly, or indulge in personal denunciations of other members. Wrong -motives must not be attributed to any one. If a speaker digresses widely -from the subject, and appears to misunderstand its nature, he may be -called to order. - -7. A member who is decided to be out of order loses his right to the -floor, but this is seldom insisted on. - -8. A member cannot speak more than once on the same question without -special permission, which must not be given until all have spoken; but -he may speak on amendments, and on the same subject, when it is returned -from a committee. - -10. A member who has been misrepresented has the right to explain, but -not to interrupt any one who is speaking for that purpose. - -11. Debate may be stopped by the previous question; by determining in -advance that at a certain time, the question shall be decided; or by -adopting a rule limiting each member to so many minutes. In the latter -case, the chair announces the expiration of the time, and the member -takes his seat. - -12. Every member should be listened to with respect, and no attempt made -to interrupt him, unless he transgress the bounds of order. Calling for -the question, hissing, coughing, etc., should be restrained by the chair -if possible. The speaker may learn from these things that the assembly -does not wish to hear him, but he is not bound to heed them. If -necessary, the chair will name the obstinate offenders for punishment, -who may be heard in their own defence, but must then withdraw while the -assembly determines what punishment should be inflicted. But if all -means of preserving order fail, and the chairman’s repeated calls are -unnoticed, he is not responsible for this disorder, although it would be -better then to resign an office that he can no longer make respected, -unless so bound by public duty that he cannot take this course. - -13. If a member in speaking makes use of disorderly words, notice should -be taken at once. The words used, if the offence is serious, should be -reduced to writing while fresh in the memory of all. If necessary, the -assembly may determine what words were used, whether they were offensive -or not, and at its pleasure require an apology, censure, or expel the -offender. If other business is done before attention is called to the -disorderly words, they cannot again be taken up. - - - PUTTING THE QUESTION. - -When discussion and all preliminary matters are finished, the next step -is to ascertain the will of the assembly. There are six ways of doing -this. We will put first those that are most used: - -1. The chair asks, “Are you ready for the question?” No objection being -made, he first puts the affirmative, asking those who favor the motion -to say, “Aye;” those who are opposed, “No.” He judges from the volume of -sound, and declares which he believes has the majority. If any one -doubts this, he may require the vote to be taken in a more exact way. - -2. In place of saying “aye,” the affirmative may be asked to hold up -their hands; then when these are down the same is asked of the negative. -The determination in this case is the same as in the former case. - -3. The affirmative may be required to rise to their feet and be counted; -and when seated the negative will rise. These will also be counted, and -this is the mode most commonly resorted to, when the result as declared -by the chair, from the former methods, is doubted. - -4. In this the affirmative and negative may stand up at once, but in -different parts of the house, and be counted. This is a real “division.” - -5. The method by ballot may be employed; each man writing his wish on a -ticket. These are collected and counted. This mode is often employed in -the election of officers, but seldom in the determination of simple -questions. - -6. The roll may be called by the secretary, and each man in his place -answer, “Aye,” or “No.” These are marked by the secretary, and others -who keep tally, and the result announced. Sometimes the names are -entered on the journals, in two lists of “Aye” and “No.” The word “Yea,” -is often used in place of “Aye.” - -The chair has a casting vote in case of equal division. - -A member who voted with the affirmative may move the reconsideration of -any question, and if his motion is carried, the whole matter is opened -up as it was at first, and may be discussed as before. - - - COMMITTEES. - -The use of a committee is to give a subject more careful consideration -than it could receive in a full assembly. They are of three kinds. From -their great importance they are said to be the eyes and ears of the -assembly. - -1. Standing committees are those that are appointed to take charge of -all subjects of a certain character during a session, or other specified -time. - -2. Select committees are appointed to take charge of some one thing, and -when that is finished they are dissolved, although they may be revived -again by a vote of the assembly. - -In appointing a committee, the first thing is to fix on a number: if -several are named, the largest should be put first. The committees may -be chosen by ballot; appointed by the chair; or elected by nomination -and vote. The latter is the regular mode when there is no special rule, -but the second is most frequently practised. Sometimes a committee is -appointed to nominate all other committees, but this is not usually the -case. The mover and seconder of a resolution should have place on a -committee appointed to consider it, and, as a general rule, none but -those who are friendly to the object to be accomplished should be -appointed. Those opposed can make their opposition when it is returned -to the assembly. - -It is the duty of the secretary of the assembly to make out a list of -the members of a committee, and hand to the person first named on it, -who is its chairman, unless the committee shall choose to elect another. - -The assembly can fix the times and places of the meeting of a committee; -if this is not done, it can choose for itself, but cannot sit while the -assembly is in session without a special order. - -In all forms of procedure the committee is governed by the same rules as -the assembly, but a little less strictness is observed in their -enforcement. - -Disorderly conduct in a committee can only be noted down and reported to -the assembly. - -When any paper has been referred to a committee, it must be returned as -it was, with proposed amendments written separately. They cannot reject -any matter, but can return it to the assembly without change, stating -their reasons for taking no action. - -When a committee is prepared to report, its chairman announces the fact, -and he, or an other member, may make a motion that the report be -received at that, or some other specified time. If nothing is said, it -is assumed that the assembly is ready to receive it immediately. - -At the time fixed, the chairman reads the report, and passes it, with -all the papers belonging to it, to the secretary’s table, where it -awaits the action of the assembly. - -Any report from a committee may be treated by amendment, etc., just as -if it originated in the assembly. - -The final question is on the adoption of the report; if this is agreed -to, it stands as the action of the whole assembly. - -3. The third form of committee is the “committee of the whole.” It -embraces the entire assembly. When the assembly wishes to go into -committee, a motion to that effect is made, seconded, and put; if -carried, the chairman nominates a person as chairman of the committee, -who takes his seat at the secretary’s table. The chairman of the -assembly must remain at hand in readiness to resume his seat when the -committee shall rise. The secretary does not record the proceedings of -the committee, but only their report. A special secretary must be -appointed for their use. - -The following are the main points of difference between the “committee -of the whole” and the assembly: - -1. The previous question cannot be moved, but the committee may rise and -thus stop debate. - -2. The committee cannot adjourn; it may rise, report progress, and ask -leave to sit again. - -3. In committee a member may speak as often as he can get the floor; in -the assembly, but once. - -4. The committee cannot refer a matter to another committee. - -5. The chairman of the assembly can take part in committee proceedings. - -6. The committee has no power to punish its members, but can report -them. - -When the committee is prepared to close, a motion is made and seconded -that it rise; if carried, the chairman leaves his seat, the chairman of -the assembly takes his usual place, and the committee report is given in -the same form as from a special committee. - - * * * * * - -This brief synopsis has been compiled from various sources. The -excellent manuals of Cushing and Matthias have been especially -consulted. It is believed to embrace all that is essential for -conducting business in ordinary assemblies. The man who masters these -simple rules, which may be done in a few hours, is prepared to assist in -the performance of any public business, and if called upon to act as -chairman, as any one may be, he will be free from embarrassment. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Sent Prepaid by Post at Prices Annexed. - - - - - A LIST OF WORKS - PUBLISHED BY - SAMUEL R. WELLS, No. 389 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. - - - * * * * * - - - STANDARD WORKS ON PHRENOLOGY. - - =American Phrenological Journal and Life Illustrated.=—Devoted to - Ethnology. Physiology, Phrenology, Physiognomy, Psychology, - Sociology, Biography, Education, Art, Literature, with Measures to - Reform, Elevate and Improve Mankind Physically, Mentally and - Spiritually. Edited by S. R. WELLS. Published monthly, in quarto - form, at $3 a year, or 30 cents a number. It may be termed the - standard authority in all matters pertaining to Phrenology and the - Science of Man. It is beautifully illustrated. See Prospectus. - - =Constitution of Man=; Considered in Relation to External Objects. - By GEORGE COMBE. The only authorized American Edition. With Twenty - Engravings, and a Portrait of the Author. 12mo. 436 pp. Muslin. - Price, $1 75. - - The “Constitution of Man” is a work with which every teacher and - every pupil should be acquainted. It contains a perfect mine of - sound wisdom and enlightened philosophy; and a faithful study of its - invaluable lessons would save many a promising youth from a - premature grave.—_Journal of Education, Albany, N. Y._ - - =Defence of Phrenology=; Containing an Essay on the Nature and Value - of Phrenological Evidence: A Vindication of Phrenology against the - Attack of its opponents, and a View of the Facts relied on by - Phrenologists as proof that the Cerebellum is the seat of the - reproductive instinct. By ANDREW BOARDMAN, M. D. 12mo, 222 pp. - Muslin. Price, $1 50. - - These Essays are a refutation of attacks on Phrenology, including - “Select Discourses on the Functions of the Nervous System, in - Opposition to Phrenology, Materialism and Atheism.” One of the best - defences of Phrenology ever written. - - =Education=: Its Elementary Principles founded on the Nature of Man. - By J. G. SPURZHEIM, M. D. With an Appendix by S. R. WELLS, - containing a Description of the Tem craments, and a Brief Analysis - of the Phrenological Faculties. Twelfth American Edition 1 vol. - 12mo. 334 pp. Illustrated. Price, $1 50. - - It is full of sound doctrine and practical wisdom. 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Muslin, $1 75. - - These are the reported lectures on Phrenology delivered by George - Combe in America in 1839, and have been approved as to their - essential correctness by the author. The work includes the - application of Phrenology to the present and prospective condition - of the United States, and constitutes a course of Phrenological - instruction. - - =Matrimony=; Or, Phrenology and Physiology applied to the Selection - of Congenial Companions for Life, including Directions to the - Married for living together Affectionately and Happily. - Thirty-Fourth Edition. Price, 50 cents. - - A scientific expositor of the laws of man’s social and matrimonial - constitution: exposing the evils of their violation, showing what - organizations and phrenological developments naturally assimilate - and harmonize. - - =Memory and Intellectual Improvement=, applied to Self-Educational - and Juvenile Instruction. Twenty-Fifth Edition. 12mo. Muslin, $1 - 50. - - This is the third and last of Mr. Fowler’s series of popular - works on the application of Phrenology to “Education and - Self-Improvement.” This volume is devoted to the education and - development of the Intellect; how to cultivate the Memory; the - education of the young; and embodies directions as to how we may - educate OURSELVES. - - =Mental Science.= Lectures on, according to the Philosophy of - Phrenology. Delivered before the Anthropological Society of the - Western Liberal Institute of Marietta, Ohio. By Rev. G. S. WEAVER. - 12mo, 235 pp. Illustrated, $1 50. - - This is a most valuable acquisition to phrenological literature. It - is instructive and beneficial, and should be made accessible to all - youth. Its philosophy is the precept of the human soul’s wisdom. Its - morality is obedience to all divine law, written or unwritten. Its - religion is the spirit-utterings of devout and faithful love. It - aims at and contemplates humanity’s good—the union of the human with - the divine. - - =Phrenology Proved, Illustrated and Applied=; Embracing an analysis - of the Primary Mental Powers in their Various Degrees of - Development, and location of the Phrenological Organs. Presenting - some new and important remarks on the Temperaments, describing the - Organs in Seven Different Degrees of Development: the mental - phenomena produced by their combined action, and the location of - the faculties, amply illustrated. By the Brothers FOWLER. - Sixty-Second Edition. 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Or, the Duties of Man - considered in his Individual, Domestic and Social Capacities. - Reprinted from the Edinburgh Edition. With the Author’s latest - corrections. 1 vol. 12mo, 884 pp. Muslin, $1 75. - - This work appears in the form of Lectures delivered by the Author to - an association formed by the industrious classes of Edinburgh; they - created at the time considerable excitement. The course consisted of - twenty consecutive lectures on Moral Philosophy, and are invaluable - to students of Phrenology, Lecturers on Morality and the Natural - Laws of Man. Address, SAMUEL R. WELLS, No. 389 Broadway, New York. - - - MISCELLANEOUS WORKS ON PHRENOLOGY. - - =Annuals of Phrenology and Physiognomy.=—By S. R. WELLS, Editor of - the Phrenological Journal. One small yearly 12mo volume. For 1865, - ‘66, ‘67 and ‘68. The four, containing over 200 illustrations, for - 60 cts. 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The favor with - which they were received, and the numerous requests for their - publication, resulted in the present work. - - =Phrenology and the Scriptures.=—Showing the Harmony existing - between Phrenology and the Bible. By Rev. JOHN PIERPONT. Price 25 - cents. - - “A full explanation of many passages of Scripture.”—_New York - Mirror._ - - =Phrenological Guide.=—Designed for Students of their own Character. - Twenty-Fifth Edition. Illustrated. 12mo, 54 pp. Paper, 25 cents. - - =Phrenological Specimens=; For Societies and Private Cabinets. For - Lecturers; including Casts of the Heads of most remarkable men of - history. See our Descriptive Catalogue. Forty casts, not mailable, - $35. - - =Phrenological Bust.=—Showing the latest classification, and exact - location of the Organs of the Brain, fully developed, designed for - Learners. In this Bust, all the newly-discovered Organs are given. - It is divided so as to show each individual Organ on one side; and - all the groups—Social, Executive, Intellectual, and moral—property - classified, on the other side. It is now extensively used in - England, Scotland and Ireland, and on the Continent of Europe, and - is almost the only one in use here. There are two sizes—the - largest near the size of life—is sold In Box, at $1 75. The - smaller, which is not more than six inches high, and may be - carried in the pocket, is only 75 cents. Not mailable. - - =Phrenology at Home.=—How can I learn Phrenology? What books are - best for me to read? Is it possible to acquire a knowledge of it - without a teacher? These are questions put to us daily; and we may - say in reply, that we have arranged a series of the best works, - with a Bust, showing the exact location of all the Phrenological - Organs, with such Illustrations and Definitions as to make the - study simple and plain without the aid of a teacher. The cost for - this “Student’s Set,” which embraces all that is requisite, is - only $10. It may be sent by express, or as freight, safely - boxed—not by mail—to any part of the world. - - “=Mirror of the Mind=;” Or, Your Character from your Likeness. For - particulars how to have pictures taken, inclose a prepaid - envelope, directed to yourself, for answer. Address, SAMUEL R. - WELLS, No. 389 Broadway, New York. - - - STANDARD WORK ON PHYSIOGNOMY. - - =New Physiognomy=; Or, Signs of Character, as manifested through - Temperament and External Forms, and especially in the “Human Face - Divine.” With more than One Thousand Illustrations. By S. R. - WELLS. In three styles of binding. Price, in one 12mo volume, 708 - pp., handsomely bound in muslin, $5; in heavy calf, marbled edges, - $8; Turkey morocco, full gilt, $10. - - This work systematizes and shows the scientific basis on which each - claim rests. The “Signs of Character” are minutely elucidated, and - so plainly stated as to render them available. The scope of the work - is very broad, and the treatment of the subject thorough, and, so - far as possible, exhaustive. Among the topics discussed are—“General - Principles of Physiognomy;” “the Temperaments;” “General Forms” as - Indicative of Character; “Signs of Character in the Features”—the - Chin, the Lips, the Nose, the Eyes, the Cheeks, the Ears, the Neck, - etc.; “The Hands and Feet;” “Signs of Character in Action,”—the - Walk, the Voice, the Laugh, Shaking Hands, the Style of Dress, etc.; - “Insanity;” “Idiocy;” “Effects of Climate;” “Ethnology;” “National - Types;” “Physiognomy of Classes,” with grouped portraits, including - Divines, Orators, Statesmen, Warriors, Artists, Poets, Philosophers, - Inventors, Pugilists, Surgeons, Discoverers, Actors, Musicians; - “Transmitted Physiognomies;” “Love Signs;” “Grades of Intelligence;” - “Comparative Physiognomy;” “Personal Improvement; or, How to be - Beautiful;” “Handwriting;” “Studies from Lavater;” “Physiognomy - Applied;” “Physiognomical Anecdotes,” etc. - - It is an Encyclopædia of biography, acquainting the reader with the - career and character, in brief, of many great men and women of the - past one thousand years, and of the present—such, for instance, as - Aristotle, Julius Cæsar, Shakspeare, Washington, Napoleon, Franklin, - Bancroft, Bryant, Longfellow, Barnes, Irving, Rosa Bonheur, - Theodosia Burr, Cobden, Bright, Lawrence, Whately, Thackeray, Knox, - Richelieu, Dickens, Victoria, Wesley, Carlyle, Motley, Mill, - Spencer, Thompson, Alexander, etc. - - - Apparatus for Phrenological Lectures. - - =Phrenological Specimens=, for the use of Lecturers, Societies, or - for Private Cabinets. Forty Casts, not mailable. May be sent as - freight. Price, $35 - - These specimens were cast from living heads, and from skulls. They - afford as excellent contrast, showing the organs of the brain, both - large and small. Lecturers may here obtain a collection which - affords the necessary means of illustration and comparison. This - select cabinet is composed, in part, of the following: - - John Quincy Adams, Aaron Barr, George Combe, Elihu Burritt, Col. - Thomas H. Benton, Black Hawk, Henry Clay, Rev. Dr. Dodd, Thomas - Addis Emmet, Clara Fisher, Dr. Gall, Rev. Sylvester Graham, M. D., - Gosse, Gottfried, Harrawaukay, Joseph C. Neal, Napoleon Bonaparte, - Sir Walter Scott, Voltaire, Hon. Silas Wright, Water-Brain, Idiot, - etc. Masks of Brunell, Benjamin Franklin, Haydn, etc. CASTS FROM THE - SKULLS of King Robert Bruce, Patty Cannon, Carib, Tardy, Diana - Waters. A Cast from the Human Brain. A Human Head, divided, showing - the naked Brain on one side, and the Skull on the other, and the - Phrenological Bust. - - The entire list, numbering Forty of our best phrenological - specimens, may be packed and sent as freight by railroad, ship, or - stage, to any place desired, with perfect safety. - - =Human Skulls=, from $5 to $10, or $15. Articulated, $25 to $80. - - =Human Skeletons=, from $35 to $75. =French Manikins=, to order. - - =Sets of Forty India Ink Drawings=, of noted Characters, suitable - for Lecturers. Price, $30. On Canvass, in sets, $40. - - =Oil Paintings=—=Portraits=,—can be had to order, from $5 each, - upwards. - - =Anatomical and Physiological Plates Mounted.=—WEBER’S, 11 in - number, $100. TRALL’S, 6 in number, $20. LAMBERT’S, 6 in number, - $20. KELLOGG’S, from the French of Bourgeoise and Jacobs. Very - fine. 20 in number, $50. - -For additional information, descriptive Circulars, inclose Stamps, and -address S. R. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Oratory Sacred and Secular - Or, the Extemporaneous Speaker, With Sketches of the Most - Eminent Speakers of All Ages - -Author: William Pittenger - -Release Date: July 23, 2017 [EBook #55174] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ORATORY SACRED AND SECULAR *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber's Note:</strong></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div> - <h1 class='c001'><span class='sc'>Oratory<br /> Sacred and Secular</span>:<br /> <span class='xsmall'>OR, THE</span><br /> <span class='xlarge'>Extemporaneous Speaker,</span><br /> <span class='xsmall'>WITH</span><br /> <span class='small'>SKETCHES OF THE MOST EMINENT SPEAKERS OF ALL AGES</span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><span class='large'><span class='sc'>By</span> WILLIAM PITTENGER,</span></div> - <div><span class='xsmall'>Author of “Daring and Suffering.”</span></div> - <div class='c003'><span class='small'><em>INTRODUCTION BY HON. JOHN A. BINGHAM</em>,</span></div> - <div><span class='xsmall'>AND</span></div> - <div><em class='gesperrt'>APPENDIX</em></div> - <div><span class='xsmall'>CONTAINING A “CHAIRMAN’S GUIDE” FOR CONDUCTING PUBLIC MEETINGS ACCORDING TO THE BEST PARLIAMENTARY MODELS.</span></div> - <div class='c003'><span class='large'>New York:</span></div> - <div>SAMUEL R. WELLS, PUBLISHER, 389 BROADWAY.</div> - <div>1869.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868,</div> - <div>By SAMUEL R. WELLS.</div> - <div>In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c005'> - <div>EDWARD O. JENKINS,</div> - <div>PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER,</div> - <div>20 North William Street.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span> - <h2 class='c006'>PREFACE.</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>When we first began to speak in public, we felt the need -of a manual that would point out the hindrances likely to -be met with, and serve as a guide to self-improvement. -Such help would have prevented many difficult and painful -experiences, and have rendered our progress in the delightful -art of coining thought into words more easy and -rapid. In the following pages we give the result of -thought and observations in this field, and trust it will -benefit those who are now in the position we were then.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have freely availed ourself of the labor of others, -and would especially acknowledge the valuable assistance -derived from the writings of Bautain, Stevens and Holyoake. -Yet the following work, with whatever merit or -demerit it may possess, is original in both thought and -arrangement.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have treated general preparation with more than -ordinary fullness, for although often neglected, it is the -necessary basis upon which all special preparation rests.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As the numerous varieties of speech differ in comparatively -few particulars, we have treated one of the most -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>common—that of preaching—in detail, with only such -brief notices of other forms as will direct the student in -applying general principles to the branch of oratory that -engages his attention.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We are not vain enough to believe that the modes of -culture and preparation pointed out in the following pages -are invariably the best, but they are such as we have found -useful, and to the thoughtful mind may suggest others still -more valuable.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span> - <h2 class='c006'>CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='CONTENTS.'> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>PREFACE.—Objects of the Work stated</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>INTRODUCTION—By Hon. <span class='sc'>John A. Bingham</span>, Member of Congress</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_7'>7</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'><strong>PART I.</strong>—<em>GENERAL PREPARATIONS.</em></td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER I.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>The Written and Extempore Discourse Compared</span>—Illustrative Examples</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_13'>13</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER II.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>Prerequisites</span>—Intellectual Competency; Strength of Body; Command of Language; Courage; Firmness; Self-reliance</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_18'>18</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER III.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>Basis of Speech</span>—Thought and Emotion; Heart Cultivation; Earnestness</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_27'>27</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER IV.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>Acquirements</span>—General Knowledge; of Bible; of Theology; of Men; Method by which such Knowledge may be obtained</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_35'>35</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER V.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>Cultivation</span>—Imagination; Language; Voice; Gesture; Confidence; References to Distinguished Orators and Writers.</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_42'>42</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'><strong>PART II.</strong>—<em>A SERMON.</em></td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER I.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>The Foundation for a Preacher</span>—Subject; Object; Text; Hints to Young Preachers</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_69'>69</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'><span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>CHAPTER II.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>The Plan</span>—Gathering Thought; Arranging; Committing; Practical Suggestions; Use of Notes</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_80'>80</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER III.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>Preliminaries for Preaching</span>—Fear; Vigor; Opening Exercises; Requisites for a Successful Discourse</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_96'>96</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER IV.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>The Divisions</span>—Introduction, Difficulties in Opening; Discussion, Simplicity and Directness; Conclusion</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_104'>104</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER V.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>After Considerations</span>—Success; Rest; Improvement; Practical Suggestions</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_115'>115</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'><strong>PART III.</strong>—<em>SECULAR ORATORY.</em></td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER I.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>Instructive Address</span>—Fields of Oratory; Oral Teaching; Lecturing</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_123'>123</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'>CHAPTER II.</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>Miscellaneous Address</span>—Deliberative; Legal; Popular; Controversial; the Statesman; the Lawyer; the Lecturer; the Orator</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_127'>127</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'><strong>PART IV.</strong></td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>Eminent Speakers Described</span>—St. Augustine; Luther; Lord Chatham; William Pitt; Edmund Burke; Mirabeau; Patrick Henry; George Whitefield; John Wesley; Sidney Smith; F. W. Robertson; Henry Clay; Henry B. Bascom; John Summerfield; C. H. Spurgeon; Henry Ward Beecher; Anna E. Dickinson; John A. Bingham; William E. Gladstone; Matthew Simpson; Wendell Phillips; John P. Durbin; Newman Hall, and others</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_133'>133</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='2'><strong>APPENDIX.</strong></td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='sc'>The Chairman’s Guide</span>—How to Organize and Conduct Public Meetings and Debating Clubs in Parliamentary style</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_199'>199</a></td> - </tr> -</table> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span> - <h2 class='c006'>INTRODUCTORY LETTER.</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table1' summary=''> -<colgroup> -<col width='50%' /> -<col width='50%' /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class='c011'><span class='sc'>Rev. Wm. Pittenger</span>:</td> - <td class='c012'><span class='sc'>Cadiz, O.</span>, <em>19th Nov., 1867</em>.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p class='c000'><span class='sc'>Dear Sir</span>,—I thank you for calling my attention to your forthcoming -work on Extemporaneous Speaking. Unwritten speech is, -in my judgment, the more efficient method of public speaking, because -it is the natural method. The written essay, says an eminent -critic of antiquity, “is not a speech, unless you choose to call epistles -speeches.” A cultivated man, fully possessed of all the facts -which relate to the subject of which he would speak, who cannot -clearly express himself without first memorizing word for word his -written preparation, can scarcely be called a public speaker, whatever -may be his capacity as a writer or reader. The speaker who clothes -his thoughts at the moment of utterance, and in the presence of his -hearers, will illustrate by his speech the admirable saying of Seneca: -“Fit words better than fine ones.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is not my purpose to enter upon any inquiry touching the gifts, -culture and practice necessary to make a powerful and successful -speaker. It is conceded that in the art of public speaking, as in all -other arts, there is no excellence without great labor. Neither is it -the intent of the writer to suggest the possibility of speaking efficiently -without the careful culture of voice and manner, of intellect -and heart, an exact knowledge of the subject, and a careful arrangement, -with or without writing, of all the facts and statements involved -in the discussion. Lord Brougham has said that a speech -written before delivery is regarded as something almost ridiculous; -may we not add, that a speech made without previous reflection or an -accurate knowledge of the subject, would be regarded as a mere tinkling -cymbal. I intend no depreciation of the elaborate written -essay read for the instruction or amusement of an assembly; but -claim that the essay, read, or recited from memory, is not speech, -nor can it supply the place of natural effective speech. The essay -delivered is but the echo of the dead past, the speech is the -utterance of the living present. The delivery of the essay is the -formal act of memory, the delivery of the unwritten speech the -living act of intellect and heart. The difference between the two is -known and felt of all men. To all this it may be answered that the -ancient speakers, whose fame still survives, carefully elaborated -their speeches before delivery. The fact is admitted with the further -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>statement, that many of the speeches of the ancient orators -never were delivered at all. Five of the seven orations of Cicero -against Verres were never spoken, neither was the second Philippic -against Mark Antony, nor the reported defence of Milo. We admit -that the ancient speakers wrote much and practised much, and we -would commend their example, in all, save a formal recital of written -preparations. There is nothing in all that has come to us concerning -ancient oratory, which by any means proves that to be effective -in speech, what is to be said should be first written and memorized; -there is much that shows, that to enable one to express his own -thoughts clearly and forcibly, reflection, culture and practice are -essential.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Lord Brougham, remarking on the habit of writing speeches, -says: “That a speech written before delivery is something anomalous, -and a speech intended to have been spoken is a kind of byword -for something laughable in itself, as describing an incongruous -existence.” This distinguished man, in his careful consideration of -this subject, says: “We can hardly assign any limits to the effects -of great practise in giving a power of extempore composition,” and -notices that it is recorded of Demosthenes, that when, upon some -rare occasions, he trusted to the feeling of the hour, and spoke off-hand, -“his eloquence was more spirited and bold, and he seemed -sometimes to speak from a supernatural impulse.” If this be true -of the great Athenian who notoriously would not, if he could avoid -it, trust to the inspiration of the moment, and who for want of a -prepared speech, we are told by Æschines, failed before Philip,—might -it not be inferred that one practised in speaking, would utter -his thoughts with more spirit and power when not restrained by a -written preparation and fettered by its formal recital?</p> - -<p class='c000'>Did not Fox often, in the Parliament, achieve the highest results -of speech without previous written preparation; and is it not a -fact never to be questioned, that the wonderful speech of Webster, -in reply to Hayne, was unwritten?</p> - -<p class='c000'>In his admirable lecture on Eloquence, Mr. Emerson says: “Eloquence -that so astonishes, is only the exaggeration of a talent that is -universal. All men are competitors in this art. * * A man of -this talent finds himself cold in private company, and proves himself -a heavy companion; but give him a commanding occasion, and -the inspiration of a great multitude, and he surprises us by new and -unlooked for powers.” * *</p> - -<p class='c000'>Indeed, there is in this lecture of Mr. Emerson, in few words, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>much to sustain your theory. He says, “the word eloquence strictly -means out-speaking; the main power, sentiment—the essential fact -is heat, the heat which comes of sincerity. Speak what you know -and believe, and are personally answerable for. This goes by weight -and measure, like everything else in the universe. A man to be eloquent -must have faith in his subject, and must have accurate knowledge -of that subject. * * The author of power—he is the -great man who always makes a divine impression, a sentiment more -powerful in the heart than love of country, and gives perceptions -and feelings far beyond the limits of thought. Eloquence is the -power to translate a truth into a language perfectly intelligible to -the person to whom you speak. Such a practical conversion of -truth, written in God’s language, is one of the most beautiful weapons -forged in the shop of the Divine Artificer. God and Nature are -altogether sincere, and art should be as sincere.” How can sincerity -be fully attained in the great art of public speech, if every word to be -uttered must be previously written down in the closet, and memorized -and recited? Was not Lord Brougham right in saying a speech -written before delivery is inconsistent with the inspiration of the -moment, and the feelings under which the orator is always supposed -to speak? What feelings? The felt-conviction of the truth of what -he has to say. What inspiration? The inspiration which, at the moment, -clothes and expresses the honest thought in appropriate -words.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Surely the living voice, rightly cultivated, and rightly employed, -is a power in the world, and to condemn you for calling attention to -what you believe to the most efficient method of human speech, -would be one of those decisions of ignorant arrogance which it -costs no labor and needs no intellect to pronounce.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Is not the man who well and truthfully speaks his own thoughts, -as Shakspeare and Bacon wrote, in some sense their peer? Is not -the mere reciter of their words, but their shadow?</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is said of Plato, that he poured forth the flood of his eloquence -as by inspiration, and that, had the Father of the gods spoken in -Greek, he would have used none other language than Plato’s; and -yet this master of language takes pains, in reporting the apology of -Socrates on trial for his life, to represent him as saying that it would -not become him to speak “studied terms and expressions, but only -the truth expressed in the plainest language.” I quote the words of -Socrates as given by Plato:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Among the false statements which my accusers made, there -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>was one at which I especially marveled, namely when they warned -you to take care not to be led astray by me, inasmuch as I was -a powerful speaker. It did appear to me supremely audacious in -them to make such an assertion, Which must immediately afterwards -be disproved by the fact; for you will see that I have no -skill in speaking, unless they call a man a powerful speaker because -he says what is true. If they mean this, I certainly must -allow that I am a speaker of a very different kind from them; for -they, as I have said, have not spoken a word of truth; from me you -shall hear the whole truth; and that not clothed in ornate sentences -with studied terms and expressions; you will have from me plain -facts expressed in the plainest language. Indeed, Athenians, it -would ill become me at my age to come before you with a studied -discourse like a boy. And there is one thing, O Athenians, which I -must beg and entreat of you: if I use, in my defense, the same terms -which I have been accustomed to use in the market-place and in the -shops where most of you have heard me talking, do not wonder at -that, nor take offence. For this is the fact, I now enter a court of -justice for the first time, though I am more than seventy years old; -I am, therefore, altogether strange to the kind of language used here; -and therefore excuse me, as if I really were a stranger, if I speak to -you in that tone and in that manner in which I have been brought -up. I ask you a thing which is, I think, reasonable, that you take -no account of the manner of my address to you—it might be better, it -might be worse, perhaps—but to consider this, to attend to this, -whether I say what is right or not, for that is the virtue of the -judge, as to speak truly is the virtue of the advocate.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>No matter if the speech be not clothed in ornate sentences with -studied terms, it is the virtue of the judge to consider whether the -speech is right, as to speak truly is the virtue of the advocate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is only, it seems to me, when men speak wisely, truly and naturally, -that the full significance of Quintillian’s words can be realized: -“May I perish, if the all-powerful Creator of nature and the -Architect of this world has impressed man with any character which -so eminently distinguishes him as the faculty of speech.” Let him -who would use this faculty effectively, and attain to that great power -which rules the minds of men, and moves the passions and affections -of the soul, see to it, that he speaks what he knows and -believes, plainly and directly from the heart to the heart.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Very truly your friend,</div> - <div class='line in10'>JOHN A. BINGHAM.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span> - <h2 class='c006'>PART I.<br /> GENERAL PREPARATION.</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER I.<br /> <span class='large'>THE WRITTEN AND EXTEMPORE DISCOURSE COMPARED.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>The special object of the following pages is to show the -manner and requirements of extempore preaching. But as -this differs from other methods of speech in its objects rather -than in its external qualities, many of the thoughts we present -will apply as well to the bar and forum as to the sacred -desk.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is need that this subject should be enforced, particularly -on the ministry. A growing desire is manifested -to give up plain, direct speech, and indulge in the ease and -certainty of written sermons. Young men find themselves -in places where it requires unwearied exertion to sustain their -reputation, and satisfy the demands of a cultivated audience. -They begin to fear that their spoken sermons may be deficient -in polish and style, and at last they write. The people -nearly always protest against the innovation, but to no purpose, -for having convinced himself that he is right, the minister -treats their murmurs as the effect of vulgar prejudice, -and as a frequent result, his usefulness is permanently impaired.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This evil cannot be diminished by denouncing those who -engage in it, for the supposed necessity they labor under is -stronger than any other consideration. But it may be lessened -by showing that there is a better way, and making it -plain. Such will be our endeavor.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The two extremes of speech are, the discourse which is written -and read verbatim, and that in which both words and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>thoughts are left to the impulse of the moment. Between -these there are many intermediate grades. The latter may -be excluded from the classification altogether, for no wise man -will adopt it except in some unforeseen emergency. True extemporization -relates to the words alone, and leaves full room -for the complete preparation of thought. Between this and -the manuscript discourse there are various compromises -which seek to combine the advantages of both. These, for -the sake of convenience, may be called the recited, composite, -premeditated and sketched discourses.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is useless to deny that the method of writing in full -and reading, possesses many and great advantages. It -secures time for the consideration of every thought. If the -mind fags, the writer can pause until it is rested and begin -again; and in this way all the ideas and expressions that occur -for several days can be concentrated into one sermon. -Then it can be revised, and the language improved to an indefinite -extent, and the sermon, in its completeness, laid away -for future use.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But there are great disadvantages. Such a sermon may, -by solidity of thought, and brilliancy of expression, command -approval, but it will seldom move and sway the people. The -very idea that all has been written out, and is merely read, -will tend powerfully to neutralize its effects. We may remonstrate -against this if we will, and declare that our sermons -should be judged by their substance, but this does not -abate the preference of our auditors. They will retort, with -truth, that they can read even better sermons at home, and -dwell on them at their leisure. What they want in preaching -is the living sympathy and guidance of the preacher; -his soul burning and glowing, and thus lighting up other -souls; his eye beaming on theirs; his clear, far-seeing mind, -excited by the magnetism of truth, and appealing to their -hearts with an earnestness that will take no denial. This fills -the popular ideal of preaching, and no elaboration, no word -music will atone for the want of it. Men of great genius -may succeed otherwise, but the mass of speakers cannot.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>The plan of memorizing and reciting sermons would seem, -upon a superficial view, to secure the advantages of reading -without its defects. But another and formidable class of -disadvantages come into being. Very few men can declaim -well. For one who can speak from memory with ease and -naturalness, twenty can pour forth their ideas in the words -of the moment with energy and effect. A few have mastered -the difficult art, and won enduring laurels in this -way, but their number is too small to encourage others to -imitation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This practice also imposes a heavy burden on the mind. -To write and commit two or three sermons in a week, is a -task that only those who are strong in mental and physical -health can perform with impunity, and even then it requires -too much time; for no matter how perfect a minister’s sermons -may be, unless he fulfills other duties, he cannot be wholly -successful. Most preachers who memorize, inevitably neglect -pastoral work because they have not time for it. And -another effect follows that is, if possible, still worse. Instead -of growing daily in knowledge by diligent study, the mind -is kept on the tread-wheel task of writing and committing -sermons, and thus permanently dwarfed. A young man may -take a higher rank at first by memorizing, than otherwise, -but he will not retain it long, for the knowledge others accumulate -while he is conning his discourses, will soon place -them above him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The practice of committing brilliant passages to be recited -with the eyes withdrawn from the paper, or thrown into the -current of unpremeditated discourse, we have termed the -composite manner. It is open to all the objections urged -against the last method, and a most formidable one in addition—the -difficulty of making these sudden flashes fit into -their proper places, and of preventing them from destroying -the unity of the whole discourse. They differ so widely from -the rest of the composition, that the audience are apt to see -the artifice and despise it. A skillful man may join them properly, -but even then his own attention, and that of the audience -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>will, probably, be so closely fixed upon them that the -main design of the sermon will pass out of sight.</p> - -<p class='c000'>These three varieties are much alike, and may be called -branches of the word-preparation method. In them, words -are carefully chosen, and form the groundwork of discourse. -The next three are based on thought.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The premeditated discourse comes nearest to the word -method. It was the medium of the wonderful eloquence of -the late Bishop Bascom. In it the ideas are first arranged, -and then each thought pondered until it resolves itself into -words, which are mostly recalled in the moment of speech. -Men who speak thus usually have great command of language -and much fixity of impression. Those who receive -ideas readily, and lose them again as easily, could not adopt -this method, for words previously arranged could not be -recalled in the same order, unless they had been fixed by -the pen. There is little objection to this mode of preparation -in the case of those who are adapted to it, provided -they do not carry it so far as to feel burdened or confused. -No words should be left in charge of the memory, and no -conscious effort made to recall particular expressions.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Stevens, in his admirable book called “Preaching Required -by the Times,” advises ministers, when revolving and -arranging their ideas, not to let them run into words. We can -see no ill effect in this, provided the result is a natural one. -All the words must be retained easily in the memory, and -not sought for if they do not spontaneously present themselves -in the act of speech. President Lincoln, who was a -most effective off-hand speaker, said, that he owed his skill in -this art to the early practice of reducing every thought he -entertained to the plainest and simplest words. Then when -he desired to enunciate an idea he had no difficulty in giving -it a form that even a child could understand.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The sketched discourse approaches very closely to the -purely extempore method, and only differs from it in writing -the whole matter in full, with no care for style, simply to -practice in the art of expression, and to test our mastery of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>the plan arranged. In it there is no intention of memorizing, -or of using the same words again, except so far as the ideas -in their simplest form may suggest them. This is only doing -on paper what, in the last method, was done mentally. It -may be of great advantage to those who have had but a limited -experience, and cannot so clearly grasp their ideas in -the domain of pure thought as to be sure that they are -fully adapted to the purposes of their sermons.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But at the slow rate of writing in the common hand, -this requires too much time. If a person have mastered -Phonography, or Tachygraphy, a valuable improvement of -the former, more easily acquired and retained in practice, he -may write a sermon in little more than the time it will take -to preach it, if he only work at full speed and do not stay -for the niceties of style. Then the defects in the arrangement -or material, that before escaped his attention, will be brought -to light. We can judge a sermon more impartially when it -is placed outside of the mind, than if it were only mentally -reviewed, and we still have time to correct whatever may be -amiss.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the great method of which the two former are mere -branches, and which in fact underlies every other, is that of -pure extemporization. In this there is a firm, compact road -of previously prepared thought leading directly to the object -aimed at. When thus speaking, we always feel on solid -ground, and each moment have the proper, selected idea, seeking -expression, and clothing itself in the needed words. -All men talk thus, and we cannot but regard it as the highest -form of oratory. When we have obtained complete mastery -of expression, and the ability to so arrange facts and ideas, -that at the fitting moment they will resolve themselves into -words, the high problem of eloquence is in a great measure -solved.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER II.<br /> <span class='large'>PREREQUISITES—INTELLECTUAL COMPETENCY—STRENGTH OF BODY—COMMAND OF LANGUAGE—COURAGE—FIRMNESS.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>Almost every speaker has at some time longed to obtain -the golden power of eloquence. It always insures to its fortunate -possessor a strong influence in the affairs of men. It -is needed in the promotion of every reform, and is the only -means by which the minds of a community can be at once -moved in a new direction. When employed in the service -of error and injustice it is like a fallen archangel’s power for -evil. But its highest and purest sphere is in the promulgation -of revealed truth. It there brings the word of God -into living contact with the souls of men, and by it molds -them into a higher life. It is sublime to be a co-worker with -God, and thus assist him in peopling heaven.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Only the method of eloquence can be taught. Its refined -and ethereal substance lies beyond the reach of all art. No -preacher can be truly eloquent without the baptism of the -Holy Spirit, and even the excited passion and burning enthusiasm -which are the human sources of this quality, can be -acquired by no formularies. But they may be developed -and properly directed where a capability for them exists. In -this respect there is the widest difference of talent. Some -men never can attain the wondrous power of swaying their -fellow-beings. Others are born orators. The latter class is -small, and it is never safe to conclude that we belong to it -until the fact has been incontestably proved. Neither is the -class of incapables very large. The great mass of men lie -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>between the extremes. Their talents do not make them -great in spite of themselves; but if they make the proper effort, -and are favored by circumstances, they may become -effective, and even eloquent speakers. To these it is of great -importance to have the right road pointed out, along which -they may travel, and by earnest toil gain the desired end. -There is no “royal road” to eloquence, but here, as elsewhere, -application and study will produce their proper effects. Yet -certain prerequisites must be received from God himself, -without which all cultivation will be vain as the attempt to -fertilize the sands of the seashore.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The first quality to which we will refer, is intellectual -competency. By this, we mean a strength of intellect that -can grasp an idea, and form a complete image of it; one -who is not able to think out a subject in its leading features, -cannot speak on it, and if the deficiency be general, he is unfitted -to speak in public at all. We would not assert that -none but men of commanding intelligence can profitably address -their fellow-beings. It is not even necessary that the -orator should be above the average of mental power possessed -by his audience. Franklin was entranced by the -preaching of Whitefield, though in grasp and compass of mind -almost infinitely his superior. A man of comparative dullness -may, by brooding over a particular subject, so master -it, that the greatest intellect will listen to him with reverence -and profit. The great German poet, Goethe, said that he -met few men from whom he did not learn something valuable. -But no man ought to address the people unless he can -clearly comprehend the nature of his subject, mark out its -limitations, understand its relations to other subjects, and -so arrange and simplify it as to convey these ideas to his -hearers. The Christian minister has to deal with a great -variety of topics, and requires mind enough to grasp not -one only, but many subjects.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is hard to determine just how much mental power is -required to secure a moderate degree of success as an orator. -No precise rules can be given on this point, and if they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>could, egotism would prevent each from applying them to -himself however correctly he might gauge his neighbor. -The presumptuous would do well to remember that oratory -is the highest of all arts, and to measure themselves with -becoming humility; perhaps the following questions may aid -in self-examination. Can you grasp an idea firmly? can you -follow its ramifications, perceive its shades of meaning, and -render it familiar in all its bearings? Can you analyze it -clearly, so that each separate part will be understood by itself, -and then again link these together and make each serve -as a stepping-stone to the comprehension of that which follows? -If you can do this with a single subject, you have -the mental power to speak on that subject; if on all, or many -of the subjects of the Christian religion, vast and varied as -they are, you can preach. No deficiency of intellectual -power or originality need dishearten you.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The fact of the close and mutual influence of body and -mind is beyond dispute, although their connection is a subject -of deep mystery. When we see how much the faculties -of reason and imagination—nay, even of hope, love, and faith—are -affected by bodily conditions, we can only exclaim -with the Psalmist, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” -Especially is this mutual dependence forced upon the attention -of the extempore speaker. In every effort he feels the subtle -effect of physical causes, and often under the pressure of -disease, strives in vain to realize the grand but intangible -thoughts that float through his brain. The body is the instrument -of the mind in its communication with the outward -world, and even if the most sublime and glorious conceptions -existed within, they would be powerless if the bodily organs -were unequal to the task of expressing them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A dumb man cannot be an orator, no matter how richly -endowed; and all other bodily defects will be felt as hindrances -even if they fall short of the deprivation of an organ -of sense. The preacher needs to be a completely developed -man physically, as well as mentally, though he may succeed -in spite of many disadvantages. Feeble health will always -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>detract from his power. The mind may for a time rise superior -to it, but a crushing recoil will follow. This takes -place when the ill-health is not extreme; but when it fetters -the ability of expression, and prevents the manifestation of -living power, the barrier is absolute. Many ministers utterly -fail, because they forget that eloquence is the offspring of -health; others, perhaps, still more unfortunate have battled -against disease and bodily infirmity for years, and yet have -been doomed to feel, amid their brightest aspirations, that a -power beyond their control was conquering them. It is terrible -to sit helpless, and see a cloud stealing over the brightness -of genius, and shading the whole future of life. Yet -this has been the experience of thousands. We remember -an impressive illustration of this in the case of one who possessed -the richest endowments. He was almost unequaled -as a pulpit orator, yet, in the middle of life, saw his powers -of usefulness withdrawn, and his fame fading—only because -his body could not bear the strain he unwisely put upon it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In view of the many facts of this kind, it would be well -for the man who aspires to eminence in the fields of eloquence, -to examine himself, and see if he have the needed -physical strength. With some the incapacity is no doubt -total. How many ministers have had their light turned into -darkness by a diseased throat, a cerebral affection, or a nervous -disorder? But the majority of men only need care and -obedience to the laws of life to bring their bodies up to the -standard of efficiency. In youth, at least, there is nothing -so easily improved as health. By the golden rule of temperance -in all things—in voice and thought, as well as food and -drink—nearly all may render the body adequate to the manifestation -of mind.</p> - -<p class='c000'>To an orator, the power of readily clothing his thoughts -in words is indispensable. Language is the dress of ideas—the -means by which they are communicated to others. The -thoughts that arise in our minds resolve themselves into -words as naturally as the clouds do into falling showers. -We use words to some degree in our most secret meditations, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>and whenever the latter become clear and well defined -they fall into language without conscious effort. To cause -them to do this with precision and certainty is one of the -problems of extempore speech. The thought is prepared in -advance, but is to be coined into words at the moment. If -the faculty of language is weak this cannot be done without -such hesitation and embarrassment as greatly to diminish -the effect; but if strong, a tide of words will be poured -forth without apparent effort. Even in common conversation, -a wide difference in point of fluency may be observed. -In fact, it was this which gave Gall the first hint that led to -the establishment of Phrenology.</p> - -<p class='c000'>No doubt this faculty may be greatly cultivated and improved, -but when its original strength is very small, it can -not, probably, be made available for ready and powerful -speech. There are persons whose voices seem to have no -defect, who cannot learn to sing; others, with eyes perfectly -organized, are unable to distinguish between colors. The -power of language may be equally deficient in an otherwise -well-constituted mind. We once knew a man who could -not find the words necessary to make the most common -statement without long and embarrassed pauses. He forgot -the names of his nearest neighbors; and, when telling -a story, required perpetual prompting wherever names occurred, -and would often hesitate until some every-day term -was suggested to him. No cultivation would have made -him a speaker. He had as much education as his neighbors -around, and was not remarkably dull. He was simply an -almost wordless man. Many persons suffer in the same -manner, though but few to the same degree.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the mere fact that a man is slow of speech is no bar -even to the highest eminence as an orator. The proper test -of the power of this faculty is in common conversation. -There one feels perfectly at ease, and deals with matters he -understands. If he have but a moderate share of fluency, -he will have no difficulty in conveying his ideas. But if he -does experience such difficulty, it shows a radical defect -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>which art can never remove. But we should not be discouraged -if it is hard to find appropriate words when speaking -on unfamiliar subjects, for we cannot have words to express -ideas before possessing the ideas themselves!</p> - -<p class='c000'>Those who are deficient in language, but have strong -powers of thought, are almost the only persons who really -find relief in writing and reading their sermons. If they -have time to wait, the right word may come to them, or -they can search through dictionaries for it; but in the hurry -of speech there is no such leisure for selection. They have -some excuse for writing, though it will still be questionable -whether it would not be better for them to dash ahead with -the loss of some precision, or if this cannot be done, abandon -altogether a profession for which they are so obviously unfitted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A man must have a degree of courage to place himself -within reach of any danger, and remain there. If he be -destitute of it, he will resign the hope of victory rather than -encounter the perils by which it may be won. It is needed -in extempore speaking as well as in any species of physical -danger, for the perils to be encountered are not less terrible. -To some sensitive minds these even amount to a species of -martyrdom. They go to the desk trembling in every limb, -and would feel wonderfully relieved if they could exchange -their position for the tented field, where the warfare would -be of the body only, and not of the spirit. Some of the -greatest orators have never been able to entirely overcome -this feeling, although they may have been free from the fear -of failure.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But it is difficult to be perfectly assured even against failure. -“There is nothing so fitful as eloquence,” says the -Abbe Bautain, who was well qualified to judge. The practiced -and prepared orator does not often dread losing command -of words altogether, and being obliged to close before -the proper time, but fears that his rich and glowing conceptions -may fade, and his high ideal be unattained.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mere boldness does not suffice to protect a speaker from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>these dangers. Of what avail is a man’s courage if his brain -be clouded and his tongue paralyzed? He cannot brave the -consequences, for the power of ridicule is too keen for any -armor—at least when it comes in such a concentrated volume -as falls on the head of the unfortunate speaker who can -not finish what he has begun. At such a time the boaster’s -fate is worst of all; for, while others are pitied, he is crushed -beneath the scorn and triumph of his audience. There is no -positive guard against failure. Public speaking is a modern -battle, in which the most skillful warrior may be stricken -down by a random bullet—the bravest slain by a coward!</p> - -<p class='c000'>What then is the benefit of courage? We have placed it -in the list of essential qualities, and believe the orator cannot -succeed without it. It does not operate by rendering -failure impossible, or even materially reducing the risk, but -by enabling us to endure all danger and press on. Bonaparte -said that most generals failed in one point—they delayed to -attack when it became necessary to fight a great battle. -The issue was so uncertain—so far beyond the reach of human -wisdom—that they hesitated and deliberated until the favorable -moment had passed forever. In war this timid policy -courts destruction, by permitting the adversary to choose -his own time to strike. The same principle governs in other -affairs. The risk must be taken. A man of courage derives -new lessons from his failures, and makes them the introduction -to future triumphs. Especially in the field of oratory -is there no possibility of success, if this indomitable, persevering -spirit be wanting. Many persons of excellent talents -have been condemned to perpetual silence, because they -would not endure the perils of speech. Men who have instructed -the world by their pens, and in the privacy of the social -circle have charmed their friends by the magic of their conversation, -have never spoken in public because they shrunk -from the inevitable hazard. There is no difficulty in determining -whether we possess this quality or not. Let the trial be -made, and if we do not abandon our posts and incur disgrace -rather than speak, we have all the boldness that is needed.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>The quality of firmness in oratory is sometimes undervalued. -While steady, persevering industry, working toward -a definite end, is known to be essential in everything -else, in this field genius is often supposed to be sufficient. -There never was a greater mistake. Nature does lay the -foundation broad and deep for some men, but they must build -diligently upon it to make their gifts availing. The way to -eminence, even for the favored few, is long and hard, requiring -deep thought and earnest striving, and without a strong -purpose fixed in the very beginning, and firmly adhered to -through years of labor, there is slight chance of success. -A few persons have risen to eminence without appearing to -pay the price for it, but such exceptions are more apparent -than real. There are times of great excitement, when some -one before unknown is able to speak so as to fix the eyes of -the nation upon himself, but unless he has been previously -prepared, and continues to put forth resolute effort, his success -is but transitory.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The career of Patrick Henry is adduced as an instance of -success without labor. He had little education in the schools, -but learned much from Nature herself. His observation -was tireless. It is said, that when he kept a country store, -he would sit and question his customers by the hour, -causing them to display their various dispositions. He was -thus learning to play upon the human heart, and as this was -only one manifestation of a ruling passion, it doubtless took -a hundred other forms. When on those long hunting excursions -in the beautiful valley of Virginia, how many deep -and ineffaceable impressions must have been made on his -mind. He had a peerless genius, yet all we can learn of him -leads us to believe that he cultivated it to the utmost, at least -as applied to oratory.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The familiar examples of Demosthenes and Cicero are not -solitary ones. All who have acquired the power of effective -speech have toiled long and patiently. The poor, weak -waverer can never be an orator in the highest sense of the -term, however he may, on special occasions, flash into momentary -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>brilliancy. And as the minister of the Gospel must -cultivate the most difficult field of eloquence, we advise no -one to attempt preaching who is not conscious of a strong, -unchangeable purpose—a purpose that will bear delay, discouragement -and weary waiting.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Of course, the nature of all the results obtained through -our firmness will depend on the direction of our efforts. If -personal ambition, or pecuniary profit be the object toward -which we bend our energies, the grand and holy character -of the Christian ministry will be lost sight of. But let our -aim be unselfish, and our success will be pure and noble.</p> - -<p class='c000'>To him who has a mind to conceive, a body with strength -to execute, language to coin the mass of thoughts into -words, courage to bear the scrutiny of a thousand eyes, and -firmness that will endure the toil of preparation—to him the -upward pathway is clear. He may not win great fame, but -he will be able to present the truth in its native beauty, and -make his words fall with weight and power on the hearts of -men.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER III.<br /> <span class='large'>BASIS OF SPEECH—THOUGHT AND EMOTION—HEART CULTIVATION.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>Thought and emotion are two prime elements in the manifestations -of mind. All the products of mental action, unless -it be the mysterious power of will, are divided between -them, and by them, through various means of expression, we -reach and influence the outward world.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Thought springs from the intellect, and acts upon the -facts received from every source, retaining, arranging and -modifying them at will. Feeling is the mind’s response to -all these, and comprises fear, love, hope, faith, hatred and all -the sentiments and emotions that are described under the -general name of “the heart.” Speech is founded on these -two elements, which meet and mingle in every human production, -though seldom in the same proportion. The speaker -who has greatest mastery of one, is often most deficient in -the other. But if so, the whole range of eloquence is not -open to him. He is only a half-developed orator, and his -usefulness will be very much narrowed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A man of deep thought but sluggish emotion, may enchain -the attention of an assembly by the novel and far-reaching -views he presents and the ability with which he unfolds -them, but the whole discourse will be dull and lifeless. He -will find it very difficult to move his hearers to action. They -may assent to every word he utters, and yet continue in their -own course. Every minister’s experience furnishes proof -that it is not enough to convince, or it would be very easy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>to convert the world. At times it is right to use the sword -of intellect alone. In controversy, for example, a solid basis -of reasoning must be laid before anything else can be done. -But it is not always enough. Men are led as often by their -sentiments and intuitions as by their judgments, and we are -allowed to use all lawful means to win them. Even the -pure light of truth is not always to be discovered through -the intellect alone. A mere feeling of what is right, or just, -or true, often leads, in an instant, to a conviction that all -subsequent reasoning can only strengthen. The ideal orator, -therefore, is one who, even in argument, can show the truth, -and then, by a flash of heavenly sympathy, change our cold -assent into fervent conviction.</p> - -<p class='c000'>On the other hand, a man of predominant feeling may -make us weep, but as we see no reason for it, we resist the -emotion to the extent of our power. If we yield, a reaction -follows, and we go away ashamed of what we cannot justify. -Of this class were some of the early Methodist preachers—the -weeping prophets, as they were termed. Their tears, -and the feeling with which they spoke, were often irresistible, -and by the mere force of sympathy, men who had very -little intellectual power were able to sway the passions of -an audience at will. But had it not been for some of their -brethren, who were men of thought as well as emotion—men -who had clear heads to organize and combine, as well -as tears to shed, the effect of their labor would have been -evanescent as the emotions they excited.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Continuity is a highly important quality of thought. All -men think; they cannot help it, for the mind is ever active. -But with most these thoughts are but random flashes—illuminated -pictures—that arise for a moment, and then vanish -to give place to others. Powerful thinking consists in holding -these scattered images together in a chain, and making -them run uninterruptedly from one point to another. There -is no man who does not at times catch glimpses of far-reaching, -profound thoughts; but before he can combine them -into harmony and place them in their proper relation to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>other thoughts, they disappear, and he may search long -before he will find them again. All persons see the beauties -of natural scenery, but it is only the poet who can reproduce -the scattered elements and combine them into a harmonious -description. Only the true thinker can gather the -fragments of thought that flash through the mind, and give -them form and consistency. This power is indispensable to -the speaker. He must give, not a mere gallery of pictures, -however beautiful they may be, but a succession of thoughts, -naturally connected, by which the mind advances step by -step through the discourse, without jar or interruption. We -will endeavor to give some directions for the acquisition of -this power, as far as may be necessary in extempore speaking. -The capability of thought must indeed be possessed -or all cultivation will be vain; but if the mind have any -native vigor, it can learn to think consecutively and methodically, -even as the unskilled but perfectly organized hand -may be taught to carve beautiful and complicated forms.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As a general rule, men can be more easily moved by -appeals made to their feelings than to their reason, and find -the most masterly dissertation cold and lifeless unless relieved -by some touches of humanity and passion. A man -who does not possess true feeling cannot so counterfeit it -as to reach the hearts of others, but he may, in a great -measure, transform his own nature and acquire it. The -most essential qualification for a religious teacher is a deep -personal religious experience. One who has never passed -through the mystic, mingled sorrow and joy of penitence -and the agony of remorse—has never watched with straining -eyes for the dawning light of salvation, and at last been -enabled to say, “Abba, Father!” such a one cannot preach -the gospel with power and success. His speech may glitter -with all the flowers of rhetoric and the form of words be -complete, but the vast power of the earnest soul sympathizing -with all the lips utter, will be absent. Without genuine -experience, our preaching will be apt to fall into that loose -generalization which can do no good. For it is only when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>we plant our feet on living realities—those we have tested -and know to be sure, and deal in particular, specified facts, -that we are able to pierce through all the folds of ignorance -and self-love, and awaken an echo of the conscience within.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As a mere form of knowledge, the experience of God’s dealings -with the awakened soul is more valuable than any other -lore. But its great advantage to the preacher is not the -increase of knowledge. It produces a tide of emotion that -can never sleep until the judgment day. It connects the -Cross and the divine Sufferer with cords of living sympathy -that always thrill to the very centre of our being. Conversion -invariably deepens and intensifies the emotions of our -nature; and if the speaker has passed through a strongly -marked change he will have the power of imparting his impressions -to others, and of giving to his descriptions the -inimitable charm of reality. If his religious experience -accords with the Bible, he can speak from his own heart -with almost irresistible force. This was the secret of the -power wielded by Luther, Wesley, Whitefield and others who -have shaken the world. Thus prepared, John Bunyan wrote -the most wonderful book of any age—recorded the world’s -experience in religion, and made the cold, dead realms of -allegory flash with life. He laid the spell of his genius on -all alike, and the child prattles of the burdened pilgrim with -the giants in his way, while the old man is cheered by the -light that streams down from the high hill on which the city -is built. The reason of his power is simply that he wrote -his own spiritual experience in the language of truth. He -had stood at the bar of Vanity Fair, had fought with the -fiends, and groped his way through the Valley of the Shadow -of Death. From the depths of his own heart, torn by internal -conflict, or healed and made happy by a heavenly -anointing, he drew the images that glow with all the color -of life in his marvelous book.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Love is the mightiest of all forces, and Jesus was revealed -to draw unto himself the love of the universe. Let the -minister learn of him, and he will be able to speak as he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>never spoke before. He will strike the key-note of that song -whose solemn music has rolled down through the centuries, -and will wax louder and clearer until time shall be no more.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The story of the Cross, with all that depends upon it, -forms principal part of the Christian orator’s theme. -But he has other duties. His work is broad as human life. -He stands by the bed of sickness; he weeps with the mourners -when the last flutter of life is stilled, and strives to lift -their eyes to the victor over death; he warns the impenitent -of coming woe. It is his to deal with the highest and -holiest emotions of the heart. And how can he touch these -delicate chords gently, but firmly—not shrinking from the -infliction of necessary pain, yet never causing a tear to flow -“in the mere wantonness of grief”—unless he has passed -through sorrow’s deep waters? He must have unfeigned -sympathy for all, and be able to express it plainly and tenderly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This power, both of feeling and expression, may be greatly -increased by exercise. If the preacher will enter the abodes -of rich and poor alike, and take a friendly interest in their -hopes and fears, their joys and sorrows, he will find his -heart drawn out toward them, and when he addresses them -in public, it will be with far more intense anxiety for their -good than if they were strangers. It will be comparatively -easy for him to throw his heart into all he says.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There are two methods of cultivating genuine emotion -that we would cordially recommend to all desirous of swaying -the hearts of the people. The first is prayer. We need -not enlarge on its general benefits, but will notice its effect -on sacred oratory. The man who often addresses God in -prayer is in the very best school of eloquence. It brings us -close to Him, and in the awful light of His purity, we more -clearly see anything that is bad in our hearts and strive to -cast it out. As we pray for others, and spread their needs -before him, we cannot fail to be inspired with a stronger -desire for their welfare. Then, too, religion becomes something -more than a mere form of words, and our hearts burn -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>with a stronger flame. We speak now of prayer as it should -be—a warm, pure, fervent outpouring of the heart to God. -This is more difficult in the public congregation, for then -many disturbing elements are brought to bear on the person -praying. The listening people are apt to be in the preacher’s -thoughts, and prevent him from enjoying simple and -direct communion with heaven. It is the prayer “when -none but God is nigh,” that will stir his heart to its profoundest -depths and put his mind in the right frame for -delivering his sermons. Let any one pray earnestly for help -from above all the time his sermons are in course of preparation, -and he will be surprised to find how much of the coldness -and deadness supposed to belong to this species of -composition will be swept away, and how beautifully over -all will be spread the vivid charm of real experience. Yet -we must not restrict our prayers to this time, for God may -not meet us in loving friendship if we only approach him -when we have a favor to ask. To reap the full benefit of -prayer, it should be a habit woven into our life, and continued -on every occasion. This will rebuke sinful ambition -and moderate that sensitiveness which has reference to the -opinions of our fellow-beings. Thus armed, the preacher -will come as the messenger of God, rather than the caterer -to men’s fancies. And from the mere operation of natural -causes, he will speak with a boldness and earnestness that -will draw the hearts of men as the magnet does the steel.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But prayer is far more than the means of cultivating emotion. -There is a direct influence that comes from God to -man. The power of the Holy Spirit is no fable. A heavenly -anointing is sent down—an unction that gives sweetness -and power even to the most commonplace words. It -is not bestowed unasked, for God desires that we should feel -the need of His high gifts before they are granted. But -when humbly implored, there is often breathed an influence -from above, mighty to sustain the faithful minister in his -task. What an encouraging but awful thought! God himself -stands by us in the time of our weakness and gives us -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>His strength. If the minister would always go to the pulpit -with this assurance, he would not fear the mass of upturned -faces, but calmly view them with a heart stayed on the Master -whose work he has to do.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Spirit’s presence will not in the least absolve us from -the need of complete preparation. In nothing is it more -true that God helps those who help themselves. All that -we contend for is such an influence as will cause the words -uttered to penetrate the souls of those for whom they were -spoken, remove the fear of man from the preacher’s heart, -and make him bold in speaking the truth. It may be that -clearer knowledge will be given, and the most fitting selection -of words suggested, but this can only be hoped for after -all preparation is made. God does not duplicate his work, -and that which he gives man faculties to discover, he will -not afterward bring to him by an express revelation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The second method of imparting unction and feeling to -the coldness of thought, is by meditating on the great truths -and promises of Christianity. This subject is well treated -in Baxter’s “Saint’s Rest,” though not with reference to the -wants of the orator. The power of long-continued and -earnest meditation varies in different persons, but all can -acquire it to some degree. It may be defined as a method -of transporting ones-self from a sense of the present reality -to an ideal situation—reaching and experiencing the feelings -that would naturally arise in that situation. Thus we may -experience some of the pleasures of heaven and the society -of the blest. We may walk the plains of Galilee with the -Lord and behold his wondrous love there manifested, almost -as if we mingled with the throng who hung on his gracious -words; we may turn to the time of our own conversion, -and recall the passage from despair to conscious life; -or look forward to the day of our death, and think of its -mingled sorrow and triumph. It is a kind of waking dream -by which the mind is filled with one idea to the exclusion of -all others. And when we select some high object of contemplation -and return often to it, we acquire a susceptibility -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>of strong and fervent emotion on that subject which it requires -only a word to arouse. An illustration of this is often -found in the case of an inventor or discoverer who has dwelt -on one subject until his whole mind is filled with it, and he -cannot hear it mentioned without the deepest feeling. However -cold and listless he may be on other subjects, touch but -the sacred one of his fancy, and his sparkling eye and animated -voice tell how deeply you have roused the whole man. -What an advantage it must be to the extempore speaker, -with whom everything depends on feeling, to have all the -cardinal facts he proclaims surrounded by fountains of holy -emotion, continually supplied from the spring of meditation, -and ready to flow copiously at the slightest touch! Such -trains of thought may be carried on in moments too often -given to idleness, and thus, not only will a mighty power -be added to our pulpit ministrations, but our whole life ennobled -and enriched. It has been conjectured that Milton’s -mind, while composing “Paradise Lost,” existed in the state -of a sublime waking dream, in which the forms of heaven -and hell, chaos and creation, all mingled in one glorious -vision. Something of this nature, though not necessarily -continuous, must take place in the mental history of every -true and powerful Christian minister.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER IV.<br /> <span class='large'>ACQUIREMENTS.—KNOWLEDGE, GENERAL—OF BIBLE, OF THEOLOGY, OF MEN.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>Thought is the workman of the mind, and requires materials -upon which to labor. We are such creatures of experience -that we cannot go far beyond a foundation of fact, or -weave long trains of pure imagination. In the wildest fiction -the mind can only combine and rearrange what was -previously known. This necessity rests with added weight -upon the preacher. He cannot invent his materials in the -sense the poet can, but must confine himself to the statement -of unadulterated truth. Fortunately, he has no narrow -field to explore, for all knowledge is related to his -themes. He has to speak of God, by whom everything -exists, and whose glory shines through all the works of his -hand. The truths he utters apply to the whole circle of life -and its duties, yet are so familiar and so often neglected, -that he needs all his power to make them touch the popular -heart. There is no science that may not at times be made -available for illustrating or enforcing the word of God.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The want of extended knowledge will be more severely -felt by an extempore preacher, than by one who reads or -recites. The latter has time for selection, and may take the -parts of a subject with which he is familiar and pass over -all others. But the former will find this very dangerous. -Extemporizing should be free and unfettered. The speaker -must be able to see his own way, and make it clear to his -hearers. If he is always anxious to avoid dangerous obstructions -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>and steer around them, he will lose that free flow of -ideas in which much of the beauty of unstudied speech consists. -Let the man, therefore, who looks to the preacher’s -vocation, lay the foundation broad and deep in a complete -education, not only in that of the schools, for the knowledge -they teach is very defective, but let him know all the facts -that hinge on common life; the processes of the different -pursuits and trades; the subjects that most occupy the -human mind; the arts and sciences in their wide departments. -We have no hesitation in affirming that preaching -ought to be more scientific than it often is; that is, when -the preacher deals with the phenomena of nature, he should -speak of them in their true form, as revealed by science, and -not indulge in loose generalities or popular misstatements. -If he master these and all other branches of knowledge, he -will have at hand a fund of illustration that will never grow -old, and instead of being under the necessity of turning -over books of sermons, and hunting out figures of speech -that have done duty for generations, he will be supplied -from nature’s great volume with those that are ever fresh -and new. They will be redolent of the morning dew, the -sparkle of sunlight, the life of humanity, rather than the -must of books.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This knowledge constitutes only the rough material of -thought. It is the dust out of which the body is to be -formed, and into which the breath of life is to be breathed. -The power of thinking comes from no accumulated intellectual -stores, but springs from the living energy of the soul -within. It is above all dead brute force, and fills a world -of its own. But we would lay the foundation of success in -oratory by giving the mind food, and providing for it a -general acquaintance with the universe. This may be superficial, -for it is not given to man to be profound in everything, -but it will suffice to keep the preacher within the -bounds of truth, when, for a time, he leaves his own province.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But within that province, and on all topics he undertakes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>to discuss, his knowledge should not be superficial. He -must here hold out no false light to lure mankind, but must -speak because he knows the truth, and feels that others -ought to know it. He will then speak—and in his own -department he has the right to speak—“not as the Scribes -and Pharisees, but as one having authority.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>To this end the preacher must study the Bible most thoroughly. -It is the book from which he obtains his subjects, -and the most powerful arguments by which they are enforced. -He must meditate on it by day and night with earnest, -loving zeal. There is not much profit in merely reading -it through once or twice a year. Read it prayerfully. -Study the sense. Strive to make it a living book. Realize -the scenes it describes, the events it records, and the deep -mysteries it unfolds. There is no study that will increase -oratorical power more rapidly than the investigation of the -Holy Scriptures. They are the best models of eloquence, -the exhaustless armory from which the preacher draws his -weapons. To be “mighty in the Scriptures” is one of the -highest recommendations he can have; and, on the other -hand, ignorance of the book it will be his life labor to expound, -is unpardonable, and will expose him to merited contempt.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Many books will be needed in forming a critical, living -comprehension of the Bible. The student should become -familiar with the present aspect of Palestine and the manners -and customs of former ages. Judicious commentaries -will help him to penetrate through the covering which -thoughtlessness and familiarity have woven over the sacred -page, down to its vital meaning. Ancient history and Bible -dictionaries will make plain many obscure passages. But -above all, the Holy Spirit throws a flood of light over the -whole book, and makes its dark places shine with the radiance -of truth. Get this first, in a living baptism, and all else will -be easy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A knowledge of Theology is essential. It comes not with -the same authority as the Word, for it is only man’s interpretation -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>of what God has revealed, and no one has a right -to bind others by the rule of his own weak judgment. Yet -we cannot despise assistance even here. He would be very -foolish who would insist on ignoring the light of science -and the accumulated lore of ages, that he might discover -all truth for himself. Life is so short and man’s intellect -so slow, that an individual standing alone would never -get beyond the state of a savage. We can weigh the evidence -of truth in an hour that has taken years or ages to -discover. There is no way but to accept the aid of others -even in the matters that relate to God and our own souls, -and use it to build up a complete system of knowledge, -being careful not to surrender our independence of thought, -nor do violence to our conscience.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The knowledge of what men have thought and done in -the field of revelation is indispensable. Without some degree -of it no man is prepared for the sacred office. It need -not all be attained before beginning to preach, but should -be a constant aim. The preacher should always be a diligent -student. He will never reach the end. Even when -his head is whitening for the grave he will find the book of -God an unexhausted mine, and the interest of newly-discovered -truth will impart such charm and vigor to his discourses -that they will never grow old. Theology is a vast -science, embracing all others—an infinite field where man -may exert all his powers, and never cease for want of new -realms to explore.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The preacher labors in the field of humanity, and aims -to better the present and future condition of mankind. He -needs to understand his ground, as well as the instruments -of his labor. It is through him that divine truth reaches -the hearts of the multitude. Unless he can cause the people -to think new thoughts, and be ruled by new motives, wisdom -and learning and brilliancy are all in vain. A knowledge -of the heart, and of the best methods of reaching it, -are of first importance. No matter if the preacher speaks -a truth; unless that particular truth has an adaptation to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>the present wants of those whom he addresses, it will be, in -a great measure, unfruitful. The love of God, the story of -the Cross, with many other things revealed in the Bible, -are suited to all ages and all men. But the consolations -intended for a time of sorrow would fall strangely on the -ear of a bridal party. Exhortations to repentance would -be lost upon a congregation of sincere Christians. Different -shades of experience need to be met by appropriate instruction; -and the minister who does not watch all changing -circumstances, and carefully adapt his words to them, will -fail of the highest usefulness. It may be objected that, in -large assemblies, the presentation of any truth will benefit -some person, and that all cannot be reached at once. This -is partly true; but the attentive minister will find currents -of thought moving in his congregation from day to day, and -will be surprised to see how often the people are thinking -about the same objects. At one time, the minds of many -will be tinged with unbelief; at another, spiritualism will -have its votaries; and again, genuine, earnest searching for -the truth will be apparent. He, who so thoroughly knows -the heart that he can detect the signs of these changes, has -the advantage possessed by a general who is acquainted -with all the plans of his antagonist. A close observer once -said that a certain minister would never be a revivalist, because -he did not seem to understand the movements of the -Spirit. There was truth in his judgment, although the deficiency -was rather in understanding human nature. That -preacher who can look over his congregation as he speaks, -and discern something of the state of their hearts, can -strike directly to the mark, while the strength of another -might be wasted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A general knowledge of the motives by which men are -governed will also be of service. We must employ proper -arguments when we seek to influence our hearers, for truth -may be so presented as to repel rather than attract. We -should know how to appeal to self-interest, for most follow -what they believe to be its dictates. We should be able to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>excite their love and sympathy; in short, we ought to ascertain -what motive is powerful enough to move them, and employ -it. This quick and accurate knowledge of the heart -is especially valuable to the man who preaches without -notes. Looking into the eyes of the congregation, he will -see their passing thoughts and emotions often indicated with -great precision. He will thus know when it is best to dwell -on any particular argument, and can press it home, or leave -it, before the audience is wearied. He will, all the time, -have the advantage of seeing his way distinctly, instead of -stumbling along like a blind man who is conscious of no -obstacle until brought into contact with it. To reap this -profit, he must be able to read the expressions and changes -that the heart throws over the countenance—visible signs -of its own state.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The proper way to obtain a practical knowledge of men -is to mingle with and study them. A preacher has great -opportunities for this. He need not fear to lower his dignity -or impair his influence by a free and easy intercourse with -all classes. The people have acute perceptions, and will -give him credit for all that is good in him; and he has no -right to demand more. Indeed, if he have not native goodness -and intelligence enough to retain the confidence of his -people in the closest social intercourse, the sooner he relinquishes -his office the better for all concerned. It is no -excuse to say that he cannot spare time from his studies; -for no labor will more surely bring a return of added power -and eloquence than the study of his flock around their own -hearths. The best books are only transcripts of the human -heart, and here he can study the original in all its freshness.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But merely to mingle with the people will not fully cultivate -this critical knowledge of character, unless it is made -a particular study. A good way of doing this is to write -down our first thoughts and impressions of persons we come -in contact with, and test our correctness by subsequent experience. -We thus discover the source of our errors, and -avoid them in future, and, at the same time, form a habit -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>of observation which, if continued for years, will increase the -acuteness of our perceptions until we are able to read men -at the first glance.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But most valuable of all means for attaining this power, -is a thorough, practical acquaintance with Phrenology. -Much ridicule has been thrown on this science by traveling -imposters, who have practiced character-reading, together -with witchcraft and fortune-telling—just as astronomy and -astrology were once joined. But such associations are not -more necessary than that sometimes supposed to exist between -geology and unbelief. Phrenology is a branch of the inductive -sciences, established and tested by observation and experiment. -Its two cardinal principles are: First, that the brain is -the organ of mind; second, that different mental functions are -performed by different parts of the brain. The latter is no -more unreasonable than to suppose that the different bodily -actions, walking, lifting, eating, smelling, etc., are performed -by different parts of the body. The first proposition is admitted -by all; and if the second is allowed to be reasonable, -it then becomes easy to determine whether the correspondence -of faculty and organ in any case is sufficiently -proved. The poets, Whittier and Bryant, Horace Greeley and -the eminent educator, Horace Mann, all professed to derive -great advantage from the study. Henry Ward Beecher, -who stands among the first of living orators, attributes all -his power “in making sermons <em>fit</em>” to the early and constant -study of Phrenology. It is an instructive fact, that although -the different organs were discovered singly and at long -intervals, yet when the contributions of many laborers -have been brought together, the result is a most beautiful -and perfect mental philosophy—contrasting with the warring -systems of metaphysics as the clear sunlight does with -clouds and night. We give it as a deliberate opinion that it -is better for the preacher to remain ignorant of any one of -the natural sciences or learned languages, than to neglect -that study which unfolds the laws of mind and teaches us -to understand our fellow men.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER V.<br /> <span class='large'>CULTIVATION—IMAGINATION—LANGUAGE—GESTURE—CONFIDENCE.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>The ability to convey our thoughts to others may be very -greatly increased by culture. The vastest accumulations of -learning will not be useful to the world unless there is an -available channel by which they may be transmitted. We -will consider a few of the elements that make a man ready -in communicating his ideas.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Imagination is often thought to be unnecessary to the -sacred orator; but if he resign to the poet and novelist -that faculty that deals with beauty in all its forms, the -lovers of beauty will be apt to desert the churches and -seek gratification where it can be found. Imagination, in -its legitimate sphere, is as necessary as the power of reasoning, -or the sentiment of devotion. It deals with truth as -well as fiction, and gives to its possessor the creative, life-breathing -spirit of poetry. Listen to the description of any -piece of natural scenery by a person of imagination and another -destitute of it. They may describe with equal truthfulness, -and even allude to the same objects; but one will -give a dry catalogue of facts, on which the mind cannot fix -without painful effort, while the other gives a picture that -fills us with delight. The same difference is apparent in -the commonest things. In relating a story or enforcing an -argument, the man who has this rare and wonderful power -will make his words glow with life, and arrest our attention.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It has been said of Henry Ward Beecher, who possesses so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>strong an imagination, that the people would listen with wonder -if he were only describing the way a potato grew. This -is literally true. He would see in it a thousand beauties no -one else had thought of, and paint the picture with a force -and accuracy that would command attention. His own conceptions -are exceedingly clear, and while his knowledge is -great, his imagination enables him to concentrate everything -into a clear and vivid description.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Even the Bible, which is the preacher’s great example, is -pre-eminently a book of imagination. Nowhere is there -loftier or more beautiful imagery employed, or truth -wrought into more exquisite forms. A few short and -simple words paint pictures that the world looks upon with -astonishment from age to age. The first chapters of Genesis -contain as much poetry as Paradise Lost; in fact, it is the -poetry of these chapters interpreted by a mighty mind that -illuminates the most sublime imaginative poem in the language -of man. Job and Isaiah are without rivals in the -mighty imagination that “bodies forth the forms of things -unknown.” Even the New Testament, which we usually -consider as a plain narrative, sparkles with true poetry. -Where will we find a more graceful thought than that of -our Saviour’s: “Consider the lilies of the field, how they -grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; yet I say unto -you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one -of these.” The Book of Revelation is full of glorious and -awful figures addressed to the imagination.</p> - -<p class='c000'>With such sanctions, the preacher need not fear to employ -all of this faculty that God has given him. Many of -his subjects are in the remote past, and can only be brought -near enough to the people to awaken their interest by one who -can view them as present. There is no possibility of novelty -in our themes. Times are altered since Paul was accused -as a setter-forth of strange doctrines. Men have -listened to the same stories all their lives. Yet if the -preacher can make the sublime scenes of the Bible live in -his own mind, he can describe them with the vivacity of an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>eye-witness. All have noticed the interest excited in the -midst of a dry sermon by a simple story. The reason is, -that the preacher was, at first, dealing with abstractions—mere -words, and nothing more—but when he came to the -story his heart and imagination took hold on it. The same -interest may be excited in any part of a sermon if the speaker -can but throw his own soul into it, and see what he describes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The account of the storming of Lookout Mountain, as -given by Bishop Simpson, was a fine illustration of this. -The incident is perfectly familiar, and in describing it he -used simple words, without the false brilliancy that sometimes -passes for eloquence. There was no particular charm -in his manner, but his imagination grasped the magnificent -achievement, and it stood out in all its fullness before the -eyes of the audience. They saw the old flag disappear in -the cloud, and the long lines of blue wind up the mountain -until they were hidden in the same obscurity; heard the -thunder that man’s artillery made boom out of the bosom of -the cloud; then saw the flag emerge from the mist and -heard the cheer of victory ringing down from the sky. -The effect upon the audience was overwhelming, and irrepressible -tears streamed from the eyes of all.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Such glory may be thrown around the teaching of the -Bible, and every word be true; and the audience will enjoy -it more than if they were actually carried back to the olden -time and witnessed its wondrous scenes with their own eyes; -for they will have—what so many feel the want of when gazing -on memorable scenes—some one to interpret their feelings -and give them living sympathy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>While illustrations and comparisons flow principally from -the reasoning faculties, they derive their beauty from imagination. -Without its influence they may explain and -simplify, but have no power to interest the hearer or elevate -the tenor of the discourse. Beecher excels in this as in so -many other things, and while his similes may take hold of -the most common things, they are always highly imaginative -and appropriate.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>How may imagination be cultivated? It is said that -“poets are born, not made;” but the foundation of every -other faculty is in nature, while all are useless unless improved -and applied. It, too, will increase in power by -use. Imagination is the faculty that forms complete images -from the detached materials furnished by the senses. It -takes from all sources, and mixes and mingles until a perfect -picture is formed. Now, the proper way of cultivating it is -by forming just such pictures. Let the preacher throw on -the canvas of the mind every part of his sermon that is -capable of sensible representation. It is not enough to have -all the facts, but he must cast them into the very shape he -wishes them to take. A great part of every sermon may -thus be made pictorial, and be far more easily remembered, -and more effectively delivered. Even in doctrinal sermons, -use may be made of this principle, by forming clear mental -images of the illustrations, which are mostly from material -objects. When Henry Bascom was asked how he succeeded -in preaching so well, he said that it was by painting everything -vividly in his mind, and then speaking of it as he saw -it before him. He was a man of unbounded imagination, -and perhaps allowed it too much influence in his discourses; -but his example is most instructive to that large number -who have not enough to prevent their sermons from being -dim and dry.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the preacher must use this faculty with great care, for -it is an edged tool. He deals in sacred things, and while he -may approach the burning bush where the Lord is, he must -go with naked feet and softest tread. Above all, truth and -propriety may never be violated. That imaginative preacher -who pictured to his hearers the bustle of a railway station, -the rush of the train, the crowding of friends around to welcome -the passengers, and conspicuous among them, the gray-haired -father of the prodigal son, hurrying with tottering -steps to the edge of the platform, and there grasping the -returning penitent by the hand, may have produced a vivid -picture, but his sermon scarcely tended to edification!</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>This faculty may also be cultivated by reading and pondering -the works of those who have it in a high degree of -perfection. The time devoted to the study of the great -poets is not lost. They give richness and tone to the -speaker’s mind, introduce him into scenes of ideal beauty, -and furnish him with many a striking thought and glowing -image to be woven into his future discourses.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Many of the sciences give as full scope to imagination in -its best workings as the fields of poesy. Astronomy and -geology stand pre-eminent in this particular. Everything -about them is great. They deal with immense periods of -time, immeasurable magnitudes and sublimest histories. -Hugh Miller’s “Vision of Creation” is as replete with imagination -as a play of Shakespeare, and his other works sparkle -with the same radiant spirit. Each science requires the formation -of mental images, and thus approaches the domain -of poetry. The dryness of mathematical and scientific -study is a pure myth. A philosopher once said that poetry -and the higher branches of science depended on the same -powers of mind. He was right. The poet is a creator who -forms new worlds of his own, and “gives to airy nothing -a local habitation and a name.” He pictures the idea that -arises in his brain in all the vividness of outward form. -The man of science is required to do the same thing, with -the advantage, perhaps, of a few scattered hints. The -geologist may have a few broken bones, a withered -leaf, and some fragments of rock, from which to bring -before him the true “forest primeval,” through which -roamed gigantic animals, and dragons more unsightly than -ever figured in Grecian mythology. The astronomer has -the half dozen phenomena he can observe with his telescope -from which to conceive the physical appearance of distant -worlds. In every science the same need for imagination in -its high, truthful function exists, and the same opportunity -is afforded for its cultivation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>An eminent elocutionist once advised his class to employ -all pauses in mentally painting the idea conveyed in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>coming sentence. By this means, he said, the expression of -the voice would be made deeper and truer. If this is so -important in reciting the words of others, how much more -should we observe it when improvising sentences as well as -modulations.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Our conceptions may remain vague and intangible while -within the mind, but they can only reach others by taking -the definite form of language. It by no means follows -that a man who has important ideas and deep emotions, will -be able to communicate them; but if he have a moderate -endowment of language it may be so cultivated as to answer -all his requirements. We have no doubt that diligent and -long-continued practice in the methods indicated below will -enable the vast majority of men to express their thoughts -with clearness and fluency.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There are certain laws in every language, made binding -by custom, which cannot be transgressed without exposing -the transgressor to ridicule. These constitute grammar, -and must be thoroughly learned. If a man has been under -the influence of good models in speech from childhood, correctness -will be a matter almost of instinct; but the reverse -of this is usually the case.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At the present day, there is little difficulty in learning to -write in accordance with the rules of composition; and -when the power has been attained, we have a standard by -which to judge our spoken words. But it is not enough for -the extempore speaker to be able, by long effort, to reduce -his sentences to correctness. That should be the first and -spontaneous form in which they present themselves. He -has no time to think of right or wrong constructions, and -the only safe way is to make the right so habitual that the -wrong will not once be thought of. In other words, we -must not only be able to express ourselves correctly by -tongue and pen, but the very current of thought which is -flowing ceaselessly through our brain, and which is usually -clothed in unspoken words, must be in accordance with the -laws of language. When we have attained the power of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>precise and accurate thinking, we will have no difficulty in -avoiding the ridiculous blunders sometimes supposed to be -inseparable from extemporaneous speech.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Correct pronunciation is also of great importance. Usage -has the same authority here as in the collocation of words, and -has assigned to each one its proper sound, which no speaker -can mistake without being exposed to misconception and -damaging criticism. A deficient knowledge of pronunciation -is apt to produce another and extremely hurtful effect. -The mental effort necessary to determine between two different -sounds that may be suggested, is liable to divert the -mind from the subject it is engaged upon, and thus occasion -embarrassment and hesitation. That accuracy in the use -of words, which is the charm of spoken no less than written -composition, may also be impaired; for if two or more terms -for one object flash into the speaker’s mind, only one of -which he is confident of his ability to pronounce, he will be -strongly tempted to use that one, even if it be the least -suitable. He ought to know how to pronounce all common -words, and be so familiar with the right sound and accent, -that no other will ever enter his mind. Then he will be able -to select the terms that convey his meaning most clearly -and strongly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>One blunder in pronunciation should be particularly -shunned by every person of good taste. This is the omission -of the sound of “r” in places where it rightly belongs. -It is strange that this shameful perversion of language -should be popular in certain circles. It is so easily observed -and corrected that the poor excuse of ignorance is scarcely -admissible, and in general it can be attributed only to silly -affectation. This sound is as musical as most others, and -the attempt to improve the melody of our speech by its -omission is on a par with the efforts of our great-grandmothers -to improve their beauty by affixing patches to their -cheeks and noses.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Fluency and accuracy in the use of words are two qualities -that have often been confounded, but are really distinct. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>They are of equal importance to the speaker, while the -writer has most need of the latter. All words have separate -and well-defined meanings. They are not the product of a -day, but have been building up through long ages. By -strange turns, and with many a curious history, have they -glided into the significations they now bear; but each one -has become imbedded in the minds of the people as the -representative of a certain idea. No two words are precisely -alike. They are delicate paints that, to the untutored -eye, may seem of one color, but each of which has its own -place in the picture created by the hand of genius, that -can be supplied by no other. Many ways have been suggested -to learn these fine shades of meaning. It is often -supposed that the study of the so-called learned languages—Latin -and Greek—is the best and almost only method. -This will certainly give a large amount of information concerning -the origin and formation of words; but it cannot -fix their signification at the present day, for radical -changes of meaning often take place. A linguist can use -his knowledge to great advantage; but the man who knows -no language but his own need not consider himself as debarred -from the very highest place as a master of words. -He can obtain the same knowledge in a more condensed and -accessible form by the study of a good etymological dictionary. -In general reading, let him mark every word he -does not perfectly understand, and referring to the dictionary, -find what it came from, the meaning of its roots, and -its varied significations at the present day. This will make -the word so familiar, that, when he meets it again, it will -seem like an old acquaintance, and he will notice if the -author uses it correctly. He may not be able thus to study -every word in the language, but will be led to think of the -meaning of each one he sees; and from this silent practice -will learn the beauty and power of the English tongue as -perfectly as if he were master of the languages of Greece -and Rome. If this habit is long-continued, it will teach him -to use words truly in his very thoughts, and then he cannot -mistake even in the hurry of speech.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>Translating from any language, ancient or modern, will -have just the same tendency to teach accurate expression -as careful original composition. In either case, improvement -comes from the search for words that will exactly -convey certain ideas, and it matters not what the source of -these latter may be. The use of a good manual of synonyms—a -thesaurus, or storehouse of words—may be of -service, by showing all terms that relate to any object in -one view, and allowing us to choose the most suitable.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But none of these methods will very greatly increase our -fluency. There is a difference between merely knowing a -term and that easy use long practice alone can give. Elihu -Burritt, with his fifty languages, has often been surpassed -in fluency, force and variety of expression by an unlettered -rustic, because the few words the latter knew were always -ready. This readiness will always increase by use. The -blacksmith’s arm, hardening by the exertion it puts forth, -is a trite illustration of the effect of exercise; and the man -who is always applying to ideas and things the verbal signs -by which they are known, will increase the facility with -which he can call them to mind. If he does not employ -them properly, his manner will not improve, and with all -his fluency he will speak incorrectly. But if he speak in -accordance with established usage, his ability will daily -increase.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Conversation is an excellent means for this kind of cultivation. -We do not mean a running fire of question and -answer, glancing so rapidly back and forth as to give no -time for premeditating or explaining anything, but real, -rational talk—an exchange of ideas, so clearly expressed as -to make them intelligible. The man who deals much in -this kind of conversation can scarcely fail to become a -master of the art of communicating his thoughts in appropriate -language. Talk, express your ideas when you can -with propriety, or when you have an idea to express. Do -it in the best way possible. If hard at first, it will become -easier, and thus you will learn eloquence in the best and -most pleasing school. For the common conversational -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>style—that in which man deals with his fellowman—is the -germ of true oratory. It may be amplified and systematized; -but talking bears to eloquence the same relation -the soil does to the tree that springs from its bosom.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the best thoughts of men are seldom found floating -on the sea of common talk. If we wish to drink the -deepest inspiration, our minds must come often in loving -contact with the words of the great and mighty of every -age. There we will find “thought knit close to thought;” -and, what is more to the present purpose, words, in their -best acceptance, so applied as to breathe and live. We can -read these passages until their spirit sinks into our hearts, -and their melody rings in our ears like a song of bliss. If -we commit them to memory, it will be a profitable employment. -The words of which they are composed, with the -meanings they bear in their several places, will thus be -fixed in our minds, and ready to drop on our tongues when -they are needed. This conning of passages is not recommended -for the purpose of quotation, though they may -often be thus used to good advantage; but to print the -individual words of which they are composed more deeply -on the memory.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This may be effected also by committing selections from -our own compositions. What is thus used should be polished, -and yet preserve, as far as possible, the natural form -of expression. When this is done to a moderate extent, -it has a tendency to elevate the character of our extemporaneous -efforts by erecting a standard that is our own, and -therefore suited to our tastes and capacities, at the very -highest point we can reach. But if this is made habitual, -it will interfere with the power of spontaneous production, -and thus contribute to destroy the faculty it was designed -to cultivate. Ministers who write and commit all their sermons, -are accustomed to read from a mental copy of their -manuscript; and the force of habit binds them more and more -closely to it until they cannot speak otherwise. When such -persons are unexpectedly called upon to make a speech, they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>do it, not in the simple, easy language that becomes such an -occasion, but by throwing together bits of previously-committed -addresses. They have made what might be an -agent of improvement, the means of so stereotyping their -minds that they can only move in one channel unless time -is given them to dig out another.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is no means of cultivating language that surpasses -extempore speech itself. The only difficulty is to find occasion -to speak often enough. The pioneer Methodist itinerants, -who had to preach every day in the week, enjoyed this -mode of cultivation to its full extent; and whatever may be -thought of their other merits, their fluency of speech is beyond -question. But long intervals of preparation bring -counterbalancing advantages at the present time. Let -these be improved in the way indicated hereafter, and the -preacher will come to the sacred desk with a power increased -by each effort.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When a thought is clearly understood, it will fall into -words as naturally as a summer cloud, riven by lightning, -dissolves into rain. So easy is it to express an idea, or -series of ideas, that have been completely mastered, that a -successful minister once said: “It is a preacher’s own fault -if he ever fails in a sermon. Let him prepare as he ought, -and there is no danger.” The assertion was too sweeping, -for there are sometimes external causes that will prevent -full success. Yet there is no doubt that the continuance of -this thorough preparation, in connection with frequent -speaking, will give very great ease of expression. “The -blind, but eloquent” Milburn, says, that he gave four years -of his life—the time spent as chaplain at Washington—to -acquire the power of speaking correctly and easily without -the previous use of the pen, and considered the time exceedingly -well spent. His manner is that most difficult to acquire—the -diffuse, sparkling, rhetorical style so much prized -by those who prefer flower to fruit. An earnest, nervous, -and yet elegant style can be acquired by most persons in -much less time.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>There is another thought that those who complain of deficient -language would do well to ponder. No one can use -words well on any subject of which he is ignorant. The -most fluent man, who knows nothing of astronomy, would -find himself at great loss for words if he attempted to explain -the phenomena of the heavenly bodies. Even if he -were shown an orrery, and thus led to comprehend their -motions, he would still be ignorant of the proper terms by -which such knowledge is conveyed. If he attempted to -explain what he understood so imperfectly, he would be -apt to hesitate, and finally use words and names incorrectly. -As our ideas become clear and defined, there is -an intense hungering for the terms by which they are expressed; -and this hunger will lead to its own supply. Let -us increase our fluency by extending the bounds of our -knowledge; but ask of language nothing more than belongs -to its true function—to furnish means of expression for the -ideas we already possess.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The voice, assisted by gesture, forms the immediate link -between the speaker and his audience. Its qualities are of -great importance, although, in some quarters, over-estimated. -A good voice, well managed, gives powerful and vivid expression -to thought, but cannot answer as a substitute for -it. Neither is it indispensable. We have known many and -great instances of success against much vocal disadvantage; -but this only proves that its absence may be compensated -by other excellencies. We can never be indifferent to the -charm of a well-modulated voice, bending to every emotion, -and responsive to the finest shades of feeling. It makes -ordinary talk so smooth and pleasant as to be generally acceptable, -but can never raise it to greatness. The instances -that are given to prove this, do not seem capable of bearing -such an interpretation. Whitefield is sometimes spoken -of as an instance of what can be accomplished by masterly -elocution; but he was a man of fervent, if not profound -thought. His emotion was overpowering, and his voice, -with all its melody, was only an instrument for its expression. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>Let a bad or indifferent man have Whitefield’s voice -and manner in completeness, and he would be but a disgusting -declaimer. It is soul that must speak through the -voice to other souls, and only thus can the mighty effects of -eloquence be produced.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We do not think there is much virtue in the merely mechanical -training of the voice. To teach the pupil just -what note on the scale he must strike to express a particular -emotion, how much of an inflection must be used to indicate -sudden joy or sorrow, and how many notes down the -scale mark a complete suspension of sense, is absurd. Speech -can never be set to music.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But from this let it not be inferred that the cultivation -of the voice is useless. It is the instrument for the expression -of thought, and the more perfect it can be made the -better it is fitted for its high office. It would be well for -the preacher to spend some time every day for years in -vocal training, for there is nothing more susceptible of improvement -than the voice. The passion excited during -animated speech will demand almost every note and key -within its compass, and unless it has been previously trained -on these, it may fail. To prepare in this way by exploring -the range of the voice, and testing all its capabilities, has in -it nothing mechanical or slavish. It is only like putting a -musical instrument in tune before beginning to play.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Nothing contributes so much to give ability to manage -the voice as the separation of words into the simple elements -of sound, and continued practice in the enunciation -of these. They can be best learned from the short-hand -system of tachygraphy or phonography, or from the phonetic -print. In these we find sound resolved into its elements, -which are but few in number, and on which we can -practice until every difficulty in enunciation is overcome. -If there is a fault in our articulation, we will find just where -it is, and can bring all our practice directly to its remedy. -When we are able to give clearly each one of the separate -sounds of the language—not many over forty in number—we -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>can easily follow them into all their combinations, and -are thus master of the first great excellency in speaking—good -articulation. Nor is this all. We can then practice -on the same elements, at different degrees of elevation on -the musical scale, until we can strike every one in full round -distinctness at each point, from the shrillest note used in -speech to the deepest bass. Then the whole field of oratory -is open before us.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But there is still another advantage: if our strength of -voice be not so great as we would wish, we can take the -same sounds, and by practicing upon them with a gradually-increasing -effort, attain all the force our organs are capable -of, and even increase their power to a degree that would -be incredible, were it not so often proved by actual experiment. -When engaged in these practices, we will notice a -distinction between the vowel sounds—that while some of -them may be prolonged indefinitely, others are made at a -single impulse. Following out these ideas, we will increase -the rapidity of the second until they can be struck with all -the suddenness of the report of a pistol, and one after another -so rapidly that the ear can scarcely catch the distinction -between them. This will enable us to avoid drawling, -and help us to speak with rapidity when we desire it, without -falling into indistinctness. We next learn to prolong -the other vowels, and thus to make them carry the sounds -of words to the greatest distance. The full, deliberate -enunciation of a word is audible much further than the -most violent shout. The passenger calling to the ferryman -across the river does not say <span class='fss'>OVER</span> in one single violent -impulse, or, if he does, he is not heard, but o-o-ver; and -even if his tone is gentle, the hills ring again, and the ferryman -is aroused. Let this principle be brought into use in -public speaking, and soon no hall will be too large for the -compass of the voice.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The different extensions of sounds, as well as their pitch -on the musical scale, and variations of force in enunciation, -constitute the perspective of the art of oratory, and give it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>an agreeable variety, like the mingling of light and shade in -a well-executed picture. A dull, dead uniformity, in which -each word is uttered on the same key, with the same -degree of force, and each sound enunciated with the same -rapidity, would be utterly unbearable; while a perpetual -variety, reflecting in each rise and fall, each storm and calm -of sound, the living thought within, is the perfection toward -which we must strive.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Little can be done in training the voice beyond these elementary -exercises. The expression in the moment of speech -may safely be left to the impulse of nature. Supply the -capability by previous discipline, then leave passion to clothe -itself in the most natural forms. We believe there is such -a connection between the emotions of the mind and the different -tones of voice, that emphasis, inflection and intonation -need not be taught. They will well up from the heart -itself. Reading may require more teaching, for its very -nature is artificial; and it behoves those who read their -sermons to study hard to supply the want of emotion and -naturalness by the resources of elocution. But the only -effect of rules upon the speaker, so far as he heeds them at -all, is to make him a cold and lifeless machine. The child -that is burnt needs no instruction to find the right tone to -express its pain, so that every one who hears it knows that -it is suffering. It strikes the key-note of joy and every -other emotion with equal certainty. Let nature but have -her way, untrammeled by art, and every feeling that arises -will mold the voice to its will, and every heart will -recognize and respond to the sound. We may in this way -miss the so-called “brilliancy” of theatric clap-trap, but -our voices will have that “touch of nature that makes -the whole world kin.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Something may be done by observing the world closely -and thus becoming more deeply permeated by that atmosphere -of sympathy and passion that wraps all men -into one family, and forms a medium of communication -deeper and more wide-spread than any language of earth. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>It is also profitable to listen to the great orators who have -mastered the mysteries of speech, not for the purpose of -imitating them, but that we may appreciate better what -true excellence is. Yet it is hurtful to confine our attention -too long to one model, for excellence is many-sided, and if -we view only one of its phases, we are apt to fall into slavish -imitation—the greatest of all vices. We avoid this by -looking upon many examples, and making use of them only -to elevate our own ideal. Then, without a conscious effort -to reproduce anything we have heard, we will be urged to -greater exertions, and the whole level of our attainments -raised.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There are abundant faults to mar the freedom of nature; -and the speaker who would be truly natural must watch -vigilantly for them, and, when found, exterminate them -without mercy. The sing-song tone, the scream, the lisp, -the guttural and tremulous tones, must be weeded out as -they come to the surface; and if the preacher’s own egotism -is too great to see them, or his taste not pure enough, some -friend ought to point them out for him. At the bar, or in -political life, the keen shaft of ridicule destroys such things -in those who are not incorrigible; but in the pulpit they -are too often suffered to run riot because the sacred nature -of its themes prohibits ridicule, and causes every one to endure -in silence.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But there is one fault that over-tops all others, and constitutes -a crying sin and an abomination before the Lord. -Would that every hearer who suffers by it had the courage -to go to his minister and tell him of the torture he inflicts. -He could not long endure such an overwhelming fire brought -to bear on him. It is what is sometimes designated as the -“solemn or holy tone.” It prevails to an alarming extent. -Men who, out of the pulpit, are varied and lively in their -conversation, no sooner enter it than it seems as if some -evil spirit had taken possession of them and enthroned itself -in their voice, which at once sinks into a measured, or rather -measureless drawl, with each word sloping down a precipice -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>of falling inflections. It conceals ideas as perfectly as ever -Talleyrand did; for surely no idea, even of living light, could -penetrate through such a veil. Men who thus neutralize -their talents and contribute to render religion distasteful, -will surely have to answer for it at the great day of account. -Let our style in the pulpit be simple, earnest and manly. -Let each emotion clothe itself in its own language and tones, -and then we will be above all rules, and all censure too, for -we will be under the infallible guidance of nature and the -Spirit of God.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Should we use a conversational tone in speaking? This -question has often been discussed, and although there is a -great difference of opinion, yet it seems to admit of satisfactory -answer. The language of conversation is the language -of nature, and therefore it should be the basis of -speech. The same intonations that are used in it should be -employed in every branch of oratory. But the manner of -conversation is not always the same. The man who talks -with a friend across a river would not use the same tones as -if he held that friend by the hand. And if a man is speaking -to a number at once, the very need of being heard will -cause him to speak somewhat louder than in addressing a -single person. With this exception, it might be safely laid -down as a rule that a speech should be commenced in the -same manner as we would speak to an individual. But should -it be continued in that way? The orotund tone is calculated -to make a deeper impression than a higher key, or a less -degree of force. But there need be no solicitude about its -employment. Begin as a man who is talking to his friends -upon an interesting subject would do, and then, as the -interest deepens, throw away all restraint of voice. Let it -follow passion, and it will naturally fall into the way that -will best express that passion. It will deepen into the -thunder-roar when that is needed, and will become soft and -pathetic at the right time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But beware of thinking that you must be loud, in order -to be impressive. Nothing is more disgusting than that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>interminable roar, beginning with a shout and continuing all -through the sermon. It is worse than monotony itself. The -very loudness of voice that, applied at the right place, would -be overpowering, loses all power, and becomes as wearisome -as the ceaseless lashing of ocean waves to the storm-tost -mariner. Strive to have something to say, keep the fires -of passion burning in your own soul, and the voice, which -has previously been diligently cultivated, will not fail in -what should be its only office—the bringing of your thoughts -into contact with the souls of others.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Books on oratory properly devote much space to the consideration -of gesture, for the eye needs to be addressed -and pleased as well as the ear. But we doubt whether the -marking out of gestures to be imitated is calculated to do -much good. The principal use of training seems to be, -first, to overcome the backwardness that might freeze both -speaker and congregation; and second, to discard awkward -and repulsive movements. The first can be accomplished by -a firm resolution, and is worthy of it. We have all seen most -eloquent men who did not move at all, or who moved very -slightly in the course of their address, but never without -feeling that the want of gesticulation detracted just so much -from their power. It is unnatural to speak standing still, -and none but a lazy, sick, or bashful man will do it. Yet -many who do not hesitate to make their voices reverberate -to the roof, will fear to move even a finger. Let this timidity -be thrown off. Even an ungraceful gesture is better -than none at all.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But after the first fear has been overcome, and the speaker -has learned to use his hands, he next needs to guard against -bad habits. If anything is truly natural, it will be beautiful; -but we are so much corrupted by early example that it -is hard to find what nature is. There is hardly a public -speaker who does not, at some time, fall into habits that are -unsightly or ridiculous. The difference in this respect is, -that some retain all the faults they once get, hanging and -accumulating around them; while others, from the warning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>of friends or their own observation, discover their errors, -and cast them off.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A good method of testing our own manner, from which we -should not be deterred by prejudice, is by speaking before a -mirror. There is reason for the common ridicule thrown -upon this practice, if we recite our sermons for the purpose of -marking the proper points of gesture, and of noting where to -start, and frown, and wave the arm, so as to make the whole -mere acting. But what we advise is to speak before the -glass in as earnest and impassioned a manner as we can -command, not for practice on the subjects we are to discuss, -but that we may “see ourselves as others see us.” In -ordinary speaking we can hear our own voice, and thus become -sensible of any audible errors that we may fall into; -but we need the glass to show us how we look, and to make -us see any improper movement that we may have unconsciously -contracted. We do not advise the recital of a sermon -before the glass. There is something cold and irreverent -in the very idea. But the same objection does not -apply to ordinary declamation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>By these two processes—pressing out into action under -the impulse of deep feeling, as strongly and freely as possible, -and by lopping off everything that is not graceful -and effective, we will soon attain a good style of gesture. -All mechanical imitation, all observance of artificial rules, -and especially all attempts to make the gesture descriptive, -such as pointing toward the object alluded to, placing the -hand on the heart to express emotion, etc., will do more -harm than good. The best gesticulation is entirely unconscious.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Frequently the speed or slowness of the gesture reveals -more emotion than its direction or form. The stroke, when -it falls upon a particular word, aids to make it emphatic, -even when there is no observable connection between the -kind of movement made and the sentiment uttered. Let -the mind, intent on its subject, take full possession of the -whole body, as a medium of expression, and every action -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>will correspond with tone and word, and the soul of the -hearer be reached alike through eye and ear.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have already spoken of boldness as an indispensable -requisite for an extempore speaker. But more is needed -than the courage that leads us to encounter the perils of -speech. Some speakers master their fears sufficiently to -begin, yet continue to experience a nervous dread which -prevents the free use of their faculties. This clinging timidity -may hang around an orator, and impede his flights of -eloquence as effectually as an iron fetter would an eagle on -the wing. The speaker must confide in his own powers, -and be willing to trust to their guidance.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is not necessary that he should have this confidence -previous to speaking, for it is then very difficult to exercise -it, and if possessed, it may assume the appearance of egotism -and boastfulness. Many a man begins to speak while -trembling in every limb, but soon becomes inspired with his -theme and forgets all anxiety. But if his fear be greater -than this, and keep him in perpetual terror, it will destroy -liberty and eloquence. A man under such an influence -loses his self-possession, becomes confused, all interest evaporates -from his most carefully-prepared thoughts, and he -finally sits down, convinced that his effort was a failure, -while, perhaps, he had in his brain the necessary power and -material to sway the assembly at will. Such a one must -learn to fear less, or seek a higher support under his trials.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is no remedy more effectual than to do all our -work under the immediate pressure of duty. If we speak -for self-glory, the frowns or approval of the audience become -a matter of vast importance to us, and if we fail, we are -deeply mortified and bewail our foolishness in exposing ourselves -to such risks. On the contrary, if we speak from a -sense of duty, if we hear the cry, “woe is me if I preach -not the Gospel,” sounding in our ears, it is no longer a matter -of choice, and we go forward, even trembling, to obey -the imperative command. Our mind is fixed on our theme, -and the applause of the multitude becomes of small moment -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>to us except as it is the echo of God’s approval. We feel -that we are his workmen, and believe that he will sustain -us. Men have thus been forward in the Christian ministry -who would otherwise never have faced the dangers and -exposures of public speaking. They were driven to it, and -therefore threw themselves bravely into it, and often attained -the highest eminence.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A want of proper confidence is one great reason why so -many with superior talents for off-hand speaking seek refuge -in their notes. They try, and fail. Instead of copying the -school-boy motto “try, try again,” and thus reaping the -fruition of their hopes, they give up—conclude that they -have no talents for the work, and sink to mediocrity and -tameness, when they might have been brilliant in the field -of true oratory.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The possession of confidence while speaking secures respect -and deference. The congregation can pardon timidity at -the beginning, for then their minds are fixed on the speaker, -and his shrinking seems to be but a graceful exhibition of -modesty and good sense. But after he has once begun, -their minds are on the subject, and they associate him with -it. If he is dignified, respectful and confident, they listen -attentively, and feel the weight of his words. This is far -different from bluster and bravado, which always injure the -cause they advocate, and produce a feeling of disgust toward -the offender. The first seems to arise from a sense of the -dignity of the subject; the second from an opinion of personal -importance—an opinion no speaker has a right to entertain -when before an audience, for, in the very act of speaking -to them, he constitutes them his judges. He may have -confidence in his own power to present the subject faithfully, -and he will speak with only the more force and certainty if -he is well assured of that, but he must not let it be seen that -he is thinking of himself, or trying to exhibit his own genius.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A speaker needs confidence that he may avail himself of -the suggestions of the moment. Some of the best thoughts -he will ever have, will be out of the line of his preparation, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>and will occur at a moment when there is no time for him -to weigh them. He must reject them immediately or begin -to follow, not knowing whither they lead, and this not in -thought alone, but in audible words, with the risk that they -may bring him into some ridiculous absurdity. He cannot -even stop to glance ahead, for the least hesitation will break -the spell he may have woven around his hearers, while if he -rejects the self-offered idea, he may lose a genuine inspiration. -A quick searching glance, that will allow no time for -his own feelings or those of his hearers to cool, is all that -he can give, and it is necessary in that time to decide whether -to reject the thought, or follow it with the same assurance -as if the end were clearly in view. It requires some boldness -to do this, and yet every speaker knows that his very -highest efforts—thoughts that have moved his hearers like -leaves before the wind—have been of this character.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It also requires some confidence to begin a sentence, even -when the idea is plain, without knowing how it is to be -framed or where it will end. This difficulty is experienced -very often in speech even by those who are most fluent. A -man may learn to cast sentences very rapidly, yet it will take -some time for them to pass through his mind, and when he -has finished one, the next idea may not have fully condensed -itself into words. To begin, then, with this uncertainty and -go on without letting the people see any hesitation, demands -a good deal of confidence in one’s power of commanding -words and forming sentences. Yet a bold and confident -speaker feels no uneasiness on such occasions. Sometimes -he will prolong a pause while he is thinking of the word he -wants, and hazardous as this appears, it is really safe, for -the mind is so active when in the complete possession of its -powers that, if necessary, as it seldom is, something extraneous -can easily be thrown in, that will fill up the time until -the right term and the right construction are found.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This necessary confidence can be cultivated by striving to -exercise it, and by assuming its appearance where the reality -is not. Let a person make up his mind that he will become -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>an extempore speaker, and patiently endure all failures and -mistakes that follow, and he will thus avoid the wavering -and shrinking, and questioning in his own mind that otherwise -distress him and paralyze his powers. If he fail, -he will be stimulated to a stronger and more protracted -effort. If he succeed, that will be an argument upon which -to base future confidence, and thus, whatever is the result, -he is forwarded on his course.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And in regard to the difficulty of sentence-casting, he will -make his way through so many perplexities of that kind, -that the only danger will be that of becoming careless, and -constructing too many sentences without unity or polish. -He will acquire by long experience so much knowledge of -the working of his own thoughts, as to be able to tell at a -glance what he ought to reject, and what accept, of the unbidden -ideas that present themselves. He will be ready to -seize every new thought, even if it be outside of his preparation, -and, if worthy, give it instant expression; and if not, -dismiss it at once and continue unchecked along his intended -route.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is only one direction that we can give for the acquisition -of the confidence that is respectful and self-assured, -and yet not forward nor obtrusive. Be fully persuaded as -to what is best for you, and make up your mind to take the -risks as well as the advantages of extempore speaking. -Then persevere until all obstacles are overcome.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have thus glanced at a few of the more important -acquired qualities necessary for public speaking. These do -not cover the whole field, for to speak aright requires all the -faculties of the mind in the highest state of cultivation. -There is no mental power that may not contribute to the -orator’s success. The whole limits of possible education are -comprised in two great branches: the one relating to the -reception, and the other to the communication of knowledge. -The perfect combination of these is the ideal of excellence—an -ideal so high that it can only be aspired to. -All knowledge is of value to the orator. He may not have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>occasion to use it directly in his speeches, but it will always -be at hand to select from, and give his views additional -breadth and scope. If his materials are few he must take, -not what is best, but what he has. If a wide extent of knowledge -is open before him, the chances are that he will find -exactly what is needed for his purpose.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The improvement of the power to communicate knowledge -is, if possible, still more important. A great part of the -value even of a diamond depends upon its setting and polish, -and the richest and most glowing thoughts may fail to reach -the heart or charm the intellect, unless they are cast into the -proper form, and given external beauty.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Let the man, then, who would speak well not fear to know -too much. He cannot be great at once. He must build for -future years. If he wish a sudden and local celebrity that -will never increase, but molder away, even in his own lifetime, -he could, perhaps, attain it in another way. He might -learn a few of the externals of elocution, and then, with -great care, or by the free use of the material of others, -prepare some finely-worded discourses, and read or recite -them as often as he can find a new audience. It is true that -by this means his success will probably not be as great as -he would wish, but he can be sure that what he achieves will -be sufficiently evanescent. He will not grow up to the -measure of greatness, but become daily more dwarfed and -stereotyped in intellect. But on the other hand, let him -“intermeddle with all knowledge,” and make his means of -communicating what he thus gathers as perfect as possible, -and then talk to the people out of the fullness of his treasures, -and if no sudden and empty acclaim should greet him, -he will be weighty and influential from the first, and each -year that passes will bring him added power. The aim of -the sacred orator should be the full and harmonious development -of all the faculties that God has given him, and their -consecration to his great work.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span> - <h2 class='c006'>PART II.<br /> A SERMON.</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER I.<br /> <span class='large'>THE FOUNDATION—SUBJECT—OBJECT—TEXT.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>We have thus far discussed the subject of preliminary -training, and have endeavored to show what natural qualities -the preacher must possess, and how these can be improved -by diligent cultivation. The importance of a wide scope of -knowledge, and especially of that which bears upon oratory; -of understanding and having some command of the powers -of language; of having a personal experience of Christ’s -pardoning love, and a heart filled with desire for the salvation -of our fellow men; of believing that God has called us -to the work of the ministry; has already been pointed out. -When a man finds himself in possession of these, and is -still a diligent student, growing daily in grace, he is prepared -to preach the Gospel in “demonstration of the spirit -and of power.” He is then ready to consider the methods -by which all his gifts and acquirements may be made available, -and wielded with mightiest effect in the service of his -Master.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Some of the directions given in this and succeeding chapters -are of universal application, while others are to be regarded -only as suggestions, to be modified and changed -according to individual taste, or particular circumstances.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A plan is necessary to every sermon. A rude mass of -brick, lumber, mortar and iron, thrown together as the materials -chance to be furnished, does not constitute a house, -and is worthless until each is built into its appropriate place, -in obedience to some intelligent design. A sermon must be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>constructed in a similar manner. It may contain much that -is good, or useful, or striking, and be replete with sparkling -imagery, and full of ideas that will command the attention -of the audience, and yet completely fail. The only safe -method is to have a well-defined plan marked out from beginning -to end, and to work according to it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is always better to have this plan previously constructed. -Sometimes when we speak on a subject we have often thought -over, its whole outline will flash upon us in a moment, and -we will speak as well as if we had employed months in preparation. -But such cases are rare exceptions. The man -who attempts, on the spur of the moment, to arrange his -facts, draw his inferences, and enforce his opinions, will find -the task very difficult, even if his memory promptly furnishes -all the necessary materials.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Every discourse, of whatever character, should have a subject -and an object. A sermon requires a text also, and these -three constitute the foundation upon which it is built. We -will consider them separately.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A good plan cannot be constructed without an object in -view. Why is it that at a particular time a congregation -assembles, and sits silent while a man addresses them? -What is his motive in standing up before them and asking -their attention? Many of the people may have been drawn -together by the lightest influences, but the minister, at least, -should be actuated by a noble purpose. If he has a clear -aim before him, it will tend powerfully to give unity and -consistency to his discourse, and prevent him from falling -into endless digressions. It will bind all detached parts -together, and infuse a common life through the whole mass. -We cannot be too careful in the selection of such a ruling -object, for it will affect the whole superstructure.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Our purposes should not be too general. It is not enough -that we should wish to do good. Probably no minister ever -preaches without that general desire. But the important -question is, “What special good do I hope to accomplish by -this sermon?” When he has decided this, he will then be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>prepared to adapt his means to the end proposed, and the -whole discourse will acquire a definiteness and precision that -would never otherwise have belonged to it. The more we -sub-divide our objects, the more will this precision be increased, -although there is a limit beyond which it would be -at the expense of other qualities. If we desire the salvation -of souls, it is well, and most powerful sermons have been -preached with that object in view. But if we narrow our -immediate aim, and keep in view only one of the steps by -which the soul advances to God, it will give our discourse a -keener edge, and we can plead with those who have not yet -taken that step with more prospect of immediate success, -than if we at once placed the whole journey before them. -For example, many sermons may be preached with “repentance” -as the central object, and this duty enforced by various -motives and innumerable arguments. We may show that -it is a duty, that man is lost without it, that Jesus calls him -to it, that God assists, that salvation follows it, etc.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Our objects usually have reference to the action of those -who hear us, and the more fully that action is understood, -and the more earnest our desire to produce it, the greater -our persuasive power will be. If we do not exactly know -what we wish to accomplish, there is very little probability -that our audience will interpret our thoughts for us. We -may, it is true, labor to convince the judgment of our hearers, -and make them understand truth more clearly than -before, but this is usually because of the influence thus exerted -on their actions.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The objects that should govern our sermons are comparatively -few, and ought to be selected with great care. Much -of our success depends on having the right one of these -before us at the right time; for if we aim at that which is -unattainable, we lose our effort. If we preach sanctification -to a congregation of unawakened sinners, no power of treatment -can redeem the sermon from the cardinal defect of -inappropriateness. If we preach against errors which no -one of our hearers entertains, our logic is lost, even if the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>very errors we battle against are not suggested. Let us -carefully note the state of our audience, and select for our -object that which ought to be accomplished.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is a difference between the subject of a discourse -and its object; the latter is the motive that impels us to -speak, while the former is what we speak about. It is not -uncommon for ministers to have a subject without any very -distinct object. Their engagements require them to speak, -and a subject is a necessity. That which can be treated -most easily is taken, and all the ideas they possess, or can -collect about it, are given forth, and the matter left. Until -such persons grow in earnest, and really desire to accomplish -something, they cannot advance the cause of God.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The object of a sermon is the soul, while the subject is -only the body; or, we may say, the one is the end, and the -other the means by which it is accomplished. After the -object is fixed the subject can be chosen to much better -advantage; for instance, if it be our object to lead the penitent -to the Cross, we may select any of the themes connected -with the crucifixion and dying love of Christ; we -may show the sinner his inability to fulfill the requirements -of the law, and that he needs an atoning sacrifice to save -him from its penalty; we may show that the salvation purchased -is full and free. Many other branches of the same -great topic will be found suitable for the purpose in view.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This order of selection may sometimes be reversed to good -advantage. When a minister is stationed with a certain -congregation, there are many objects he wishes to accomplish, -and often no strong reason for preferring one in the -order of time to another. It will then be well for him to -take that subject which may impress him, and bend his mind -toward an object he can enforce most powerfully through it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>On other occasions there is a particular end to be attained, -which is for the time all-important, and which thus furnishes -the proper object. Nothing then remains but for the preacher -to choose a subject through which he can work to the best -advantage.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>This is one great advantage the Methodists have in protracted -meetings. An object is always in view, and the -congregation expect it to be pressed home with power. No -plea of general instruction will then save a sermon from being -thought worthless, if it does not produce an immediate result. -And even the much calumniated “mourners’ bench” contributes -most powerfully to the same result. There is -something proposed which the congregation can see, and -through it judge of the preacher’s success or failure. An -outward act is urged upon the unbelieving portion of the -audience, by which they signify that they yield to the power -of the Gospel; and the very fact of having that before him -as an immediate, though not an ultimate aim, will stimulate -the preacher’s zeal, and cause him to put forth every possible -exertion.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After all, the order in which subject and object are selected -is not very material. It is enough that the preacher has a -subject that he understands, and an object that warms his -heart and enlists all his powers. Then he can preach, not -as if dealing with abstractions, but as one who has a living -mission to perform.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Every subject we treat should be complete in itself, and -rounded off from everything else. Its boundaries should be -run with such precision as not to include anything but what -properly belongs to it. It is a common but grievous fault -to have the same cast of ideas flowing round every text that -may be preached from. There are few things in the universe -that have not some relation to everything else, and if our -topics are not very strictly bounded, we will fall into the -vice of perpetual repetition. Thus, in a book of sermon -sketches we have examined, nearly every one begins by -proving that man is a fallen creature, and needs the helps or -is liable to the ills mentioned afterward. No other thought -is introduced until that primal point is settled. This doctrine -is of great importance, and does affect all man’s relations, -but we can sometimes take it for granted, without -endangering the edifice we build upon it, and occasional -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>silence will be far more impressive than that continual iteration, -which may even induce a doubt of what seems to need -so much proof.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Ministers sometime acquire such a stereotyped form of -thought and expression that what they say in one sermon -will be sure to recur, perhaps in a modified form, in all -others. This kind of preaching is intolerable. There is an -end to the patience of man. He tires of the same old ideas, -and wishes when a text is taken that it may bring with it a -new sermon. The remedy against this evil is to give each -sermon its own territory, and then guard rigidly against -trespass. It is not a sufficient excuse for the minister who -preaches continually in one place, that what he says has a -natural connection with the subject in hand, but it must -have a closer connection with it, than with any other he may -use. By observing this rule, we make each theme the solar -centre around which may cluster a great number of secondary -ideas, all of which naturally belong to it, and are undisturbed -by satellites from other systems.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The subjects from which a preacher may choose are innumerable. -The Bible is an inexhaustible storehouse. Its -histories, precepts, prophecies, promises and threatenings, -are almost endless. Then all the duties of human life, -and especially those born of the Christian character; the -best methods of making our way to the end of our journey; -the hopes after which we follow; the dangers that beset our -path; the mighty destinies of time and eternity, are a few -of the themes that suggest themselves, and afford room -enough for the loftiest talent, during all the time that man -is allowed to preach on earth. If we would search carefully -for the best subjects, and, when found, isolate them from all -others, we would never need to weary the people by the -repetition of thoughts and ideas.</p> - -<p class='c000'>While, as a rule, we ought to shun controversial points, -we should not be afraid to lay hold of the most important -subjects that are revealed to man. These will always command -attention; heaven and hell, judgment, redemption, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>faith, the fall, and all those great doctrines upon which the -Christian religion rests, need to be frequently impressed on -the people. It is also profitable to preach serial sermons on -great subjects. The rise of the Jewish nation and economy -would afford a fine field for instruction. The life and work -of Jesus Christ would be still better. This latter series -might consist of discourses on His birth, baptism, temptation, -first sermon, His teaching in general, some miracle as -a type of all others, transfiguration, last coming to Jerusalem, -Gethsemane, betrayal and arrest, trial, crucifixion, resurrection, -ascension and second advent. Many other subdivisions -might be made. Such linked sermons, covering a -wide scope, instruct the people better than isolated ones -could, and afford equal opportunities for enforcing all Christian -lessons. Yet it would not be well to employ them -exclusively, or even generally, as such a practice would tend -to wearisome sameness.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The subject must be well defined. It may be of a general -nature, but our conception of it should be so clear that -we always know just what we are speaking about. This -is more necessary in an extempore speech than in a written -one, although the want of it will be felt severely even in the -latter. A strong, vividly defined subject will give unity and -life to a whole discourse, and often leave a permanent impression -on the mind. To aid in securing this, it will be -well for the preacher, when he has chosen a subject, to reduce -it to its simplest form, and then by writing it as a -phrase or sentence, stamp it on the mind, and let it ring in -every word that is spoken; that is, let each word aid in -carrying out the great idea, or in leading to the desired object, -and be valued only so far as it does this. Those interminable -discourses, that seem to commence anywhere and end -nowhere, may be called sermons by courtesy, but they are -not such in reality. The word “sermon” signifies “a -thrust,” which well expresses the concentrativeness and -aggressiveness that should distinguish it, and which nothing -but a well-defined theme can give. It ought not to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>glitter with detached beauties, like the starry heavens, but -shine with the single, all-pervading radiance of the sun.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This unity of theme and treatment is not easily preserved. -It is hard to see in the mind’s eye what we know would -please and delight those who listen, and turn away and leave -it, but it is often necessary to exercise this more than Spartan -self-denial, if we would not reduce our sermons to mere -random harangues. Not that illustration should be discarded, -for the whole realm of nature may be pressed into -this service, and a good illustration in the right place is -often better than an argument. But nothing, whatever its -nature, should be drawn in, unless it so perfectly coalesces -with the parent idea, that a common vitality flows through -them. If this is the case, the unity will be unbroken, -though even then it often happens that the idea would produce -a better effect in connection with another theme, and -should be reserved for it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Usage has established the practice of employing a passage -of Scripture as the basis of a sermon. This is of great advantage -to the minister, for it gives the discourse something -of divine sanction, and makes it more than a popular address. -Opinion is divided as to whether it is best to select the text, -and arrange the discourse to correspond with it, or reversing -this order, to compose the sermon first, and thus secure the -harmony that arises from having no disturbing idea, and at -the last moment choose a text of Scripture that will fit it as -nearly as possible.</p> - -<p class='c000'>No doubt the comparative advantages of these methods -will be to a great degree determined by the occasions on -which they are used. When a subject is of great importance, -and we wish to be precise in explaining it, we may -adopt the latter method, but the former is more generally -useful. There are so many valuable ideas and important -suggestions in the words of Scripture, that we can ill afford -to deprive ourselves of this help. For the Bible, with all -its ideas, is common property. No minister need fear the -charge of plagiarism, when he borrows, either in word or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>thought from its inspired pages. He is God’s ambassador, -with the Bible for his letter of instruction, and the more -freely he avails himself of it, if it be done skillfully, the -better for the authority of his mission. We may often -select a subject that appears dark and confused, but when -we have found a passage of Scripture embracing the same -idea, there may be something in it that will solve every -doubt, and indicate the very thoughts we wish to enforce. -For this reason we believe that under ordinary circumstances, -the practice of first constructing the sermon and -only at the last moment before delivery, tacking on a text, -is not the best.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Another reason in favor of previously selecting the text -is worth consideration. The people, who are not supposed -to know anything of the subject, expect, when we read a -passage of Scripture, as the foundation of our remarks, that -it will be something more than a mere point of departure. -They anticipate that it will be kept always in view, and furnish -the key-note to the whole sermon. This is but reasonable, -and if disappointed, they will not so well appreciate -what is really good in the discourse. We would not sacrifice -unity to a mere rambling commentary on the words of -the text. Let the subject be first in the mind and bend -everything to itself. But let the text be next in importance, -and the whole subject be unfolded with it always in view. -It may be feared that the work of sermonizing will be rendered -more difficult by observing this double guidance, but -if a proper text be chosen—one that, in its literal meaning, -will embrace the subject—the labor will be much lightened.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is a common fault to take a passage of Scripture consisting -of a few words only, and put our own meaning upon -it, without reference to the intention of the inspired writer -who penned it. This borders very closely on irreverence. -If we cannot use God’s words in the sense he uses them, we -had better speak without a text at all, and then our sin will -only be a negative one. The taking of a few words divorced -from their connection, and appending them to a discourse or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>essay, that has no relation to their true meaning, is not less -a profanation than it would be to prefix the motto, “Perfect -love casteth out fear,” to a fashionable novel. But when, -on the other hand, we take a text that contains our subject, -and expresses it clearly, we are prepared to compose a sermon -to the best advantage. The subject present in our own -mind runs through every part of the discourse, making it a -living unity, instead of a collection of loose and disordered -fragments; while the text, being always kept in view by the -hearers as well as by the speaker, leads all minds in the same -direction, and gives divine sanction to every word that is -spoken. It is not without reason that the people, whose -tastes are nearly always right, though they may not be able -to give a philosophical explanation of them, complain of -their preacher when he does not “stick to his text.” It is -right that he should so adhere.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A man of genius may neglect this precaution, and still -succeed, as he would do, by mere intellectual force, were he -to adopt any other course. But ordinary men cannot, with -safety, follow the example of Sydney Smith. His vestry -complained that he did not talk about the text he took, and, -that he might the more easily reform, they advised him to -divide his sermons as other preachers did. He promised to -comply with their request, and the next Sabbath began, -“We will divide our discourse this morning into three parts; -in the first place we will go <em>up</em> to our text, in the second we -will go <em>through</em> it, and in the third we will go <span class='fss'>FROM</span> it.” It -was generally allowed that he succeeded best on the last -division, but preachers who have not his genius had better -omit it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>These rules in relation to the absolute sway of object, -subject and text, may appear harsh and rigid, but cannot be -neglected with impunity. A true discourse of any kind is -the orderly development of some one thought, with so much -clearness, that it may ever afterward live as a point of light -in the memory; other ideas may cluster around it, but one -must reign supreme. If it fails in this particular, nothing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>else will redeem it. Brilliancy of thought and illustration -will be wasted, as a sculptor’s art would be on a block of -clay.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A man of profound genius once arose to preach before a -great assemblage, and every breath was hushed to listen. -He spoke with power, and some of his passages were full of -thrilling eloquence. He poured forth beautiful images and -deep solemn thoughts, with the utmost profusion. Yet -when he took his seat a sense of utter disappointment filled -the hearts of all present. The sermon was confused. No -subject could be traced that bound it together, and made a -point of union to which the memory might cling. Had he -not read his text no one could have guessed it. It was a -most impressive warning of the necessity of laying a foundation -before erecting a magnificent structure. Had he adhered -to the thoughts expressed in his text, which was one of the -richest in the Scriptures, his eloquence and power would not -have been thrown away.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER II.<br /> <span class='large'>THE PLAN—THOUGHT-GATHERING—ARRANGING—COMMITTING.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>The logical order of sermon preparation is, first, to gather -the materials of which it is composed; second, to select -what is most fitting, and arrange the whole into perfect -order; third, to fix this in the mind, thus making it available -at the moment of use. These processes are not necessarily -separated in practice, but may be best considered in the -order indicated.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When we choose a subject for a sermon, and allow the -mind to dwell upon it, it becomes a centre of attraction, and -naturally draws all kindred ideas toward it. Old memories -that have become dim in the lapse of time, are slowly hunted -out and grouped around the parent thought, and each hour -of study adds to the richness and variety of our stores. -The relations between different and apparently widely-separated -things become visible, just as new stars are seen when -we gaze intently toward them. Everything that the mind -possesses is subjected to a rigid scrutiny, and all that appears -to bear any relation to the subject is brought into view. A -considerable period of time is usually required for the completion -of all this, and the longer it is continued the better, -provided the interest felt is not abated.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Such continuous reaches of thought form a principal element -in the superiority of one mind over another. Even -the mightiest genius cannot, at a single impulse, exhaust the -ocean of truth that opens around every object of man’s contemplation. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>And it is only by viewing a subject in every -aspect, that we can guard against superficial and one-sided -impressions. But the continued exertion and toil which this -implies are nearly always distasteful, and the majority of men -can accomplish it only by a stern resolve. This ability, -whether acquired or natural, is one of prime necessity, and -the young minister, at the very first, should learn to thoroughly -investigate and finish every subject he undertakes, -and continue the habit during life. This will generally determine -the question of his success or failure, at least from -an intellectual point of view. Thought is a mighty architect, -and if you keep him fully employed, he will build up, -with slow and measured strokes, a gorgeous and enduring -edifice on any subject within your mental range. You may -weary of his labor, and think the wall rises very slowly, and -will never be completed, but wait. The work will be finished -at last, and will be no ephemeral structure to be swept -away by the first storm, but will stand unshaken on the basis -of eternal truth.</p> - -<p class='c000'>M. Bautain compares the accumulation of thought around -a subject, to the almost imperceptible development of organic -life. Striking as is the illustration, there is one marked -point of dissimilarity. The growth of thought is voluntary, -and may be arrested at any stage. Even a cessation of conscious -effort is fatal. To prevent this, and keep the mind -employed until all its work is done, requires, with most persons, -a regular and formal system. Profound thinkers, who -take up a subject, and cannot leave it until it is traced into -all its relations, and mastered in every part, and who have at -the same time the power of long remembering the trains of -thought that pass through their minds, may not need an -artificial method. But these are exceptions to the general -rule.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We will give a method we have found useful for securing -sermon materials, and allow others to adopt it so far as it -may prove advantageous to them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Ideas are not always kept equally in view. Sometimes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>we may see one with great clearness, and after a little time -lose it again, while another, at first invisible, comes into -sight. Each one should be secured when it occurs. After -the subject has been pondered for a sufficient length of time, -write all the thoughts that are suggested on it, taking no -care for the arrangement, but only putting down a word or -brief sentence that will recall the idea intended. After -everything that presents itself has thus been rendered permanent, -the paper containing these items may be put away, -and the subject recommitted to the mind. As other ideas -arise, let them be recorded in the same way, and the process -extended over days together. Sometimes new images and -conceptions will continue to float into the mental horizon -even for weeks. Most persons who have not tried this -simple process, will be surprised to find how many thoughts -they have on the commonest topic. If some of this gathered -matter remains vague and indefinite, it will only be necessary -to give it more time, more earnest thought, and all obscurity -will vanish.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At last, there comes a consciousness that the mind’s power -on that theme is exhausted. If we also feel that we possess -all the requisite material, this part of our work is ended. -But more frequently there will be a sense of incompleteness, -and we are driven to seek what we need elsewhere.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The next step is the obtaining of new facts. We have thus -far dealt with what the mind itself possesses, and have only -sought to make that previously-accumulated knowledge fully -available. But when this stage is reached, we hunger for -more extended information. We read the works of those -who have treated on the themes we are discussing, converse -with well-informed persons, observe the world closely, and -at last find the very idea we want. We receive it with -joy, and from thenceforth it becomes a part of our being. -We place the treasure on paper with other items, and continue -to search until we have all we desire. It often happens -that we do not find exactly the object of our search, -but strike on some chain that guides us to it through the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>subtile principles of association. It is only the more welcome -because we have thus traced it out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have on paper, at last, and often after much toil, a -number of confused, unarranged notes. The whole mass -relates to the subject, but much is unfitting, and all requires, -by another process, to be cast into order and harmony. The -first step in this direction is to omit everything not necessary -to the purpose of the sermon. This is a matter of great -importance. It has been said that the principal difference -between a wise man and a fool is, that the one utters all his -thoughts, while the other gives only his best to the world. -Nearly every man has, at times, thoughts that would profit -mankind, and if these are carefully selected from the puerilities -by which they may be surrounded, the result cannot -but be valuable. And if this cautious selection be needed -on general topics, it is still more imperative in the ministry -of the Word. The preacher must beware of giving anything -repugnant to the spirit of his mission. And the necessity -of a purpose running through his whole discourse, which -we have before enlarged on, compels him to strike out each -item at variance with it. It is well to carefully read over -our scattered notes after the fervor of composition has subsided, -and erase all that are unfitting. Sometimes this will -leave very few ideas remaining, and we are obliged to search -for others to complete the sermon. This can be continued -until we have gathered a sufficient mass of clearly connected -thoughts to accomplish the object in view.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Next follows the task of constructing the plan for the -intended sermon. Unless this is well done, success is impossible. -The mightiest results are obtained in oratory by -the slow process of words, one following another. Each -one should bear forward the current of thought in the right -direction, and be a help to all that follow. And as, in extempore -speech, these words are given forth on the spur of -the moment, it becomes necessary to so arrange that the -proper thought to be dissolved into words, may always be -presented to the mind at the right time.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>In some cases this disposition of parts is quite easy. A -course indicated by the very nature of the subject will -spring into view, and relieve us of further embarrassment. -But often this portion of our task will require severe thought.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Many different kinds of plans have been specified by writers -on Homiletics. We will be contented with four divisions, -based on the mode of construction.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The first, we may call the narrative method. It is principally -used when some scripture history forms the basis of -the sermon. In it the different parts of the plan are arranged -according to the order of time, except when some particular -reason, borrowed from the other methods, intervenes. When -there are few or none of these portions which give it a composite -character, the development proceeds with all the simplicity -of a story. Many beautiful sermons have been thus -constructed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A second method is the textual. Each part of the sermon -rests on some of the words or clauses of the text, and these -suggest the order of its unfolding, although they may be -changed to make it correspond more nearly to the narrative, -or the logical methods. This kind of plan has an obvious -advantage in assisting the memory by suggesting each -part at the proper time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The logical method is the third we will describe. A topic -is taken, and without reference to the order of time or the -words of the text, is unfolded as a proposition in Geometry—each -thought being preliminary to that which follows, and -the whole ending in the demonstration of some great truth, -and the deduction of its legitimate corollaries. This method -is exceedingly valuable in many cases, if not pressed too far.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The last method, and the one employed more frequently -than all the others, is the divisional. It is the military -arrangement, for in it the whole sermon is organized like an -army. All the detached items are brought into related -groups, each governed by a principal thought, and these -again are held in strict subordination to the supreme idea; -or, to change the figure, the entire mass resembles a tree, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>with its single trunk, its branches subdivided into smaller -ones, and all covered with a beautiful robe of leaves, that -rounds its form into graceful outlines, even as the flow of -words harmonizes our prepared thoughts, into the unity of -a living discourse.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A subject will many times arrange itself almost spontaneously -into several different parts, which thus form the -proper divisions, and these again may be easily analyzed -into their subdivisions. Even when this is not the case, we -will see, as we examine our jottings, that a few of the ideas -stand out in especial prominence, and with a little close -study of relations and affinities, all the others may be made -to group themselves around these. The individual ideas -which we put down on the first study of the subject, usually -form the subdivisions, and some generalization of them the -divisions.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is well not to make the branches of a subject too numerous, -or they will introduce confusion, and fail to be remembered. -From two to four divisions, with two or three -subdivisions under each, are in a majority of cases better -than a larger number. The tendency to multiply them -almost infinitely, which was formerly very prevalent, and -is still too common, receives a merciless, but well-deserved -rebuke from Stephens, in his “Preaching Required -by the Times.” He is criticising a popular “Preacher’s -Manual”:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“These more than six hundred pages are devoted exclusively -to the technicalities of sermonizing. We almost perspire -as we trace down the tables of contents. Our eye is -arrested by the ‘divisions’ of a subject—and here we have -no less than ‘nine kinds of divisions:’ the ‘Exegetical Division,’ -the ‘Accommodational Division,’ the ‘Regular Division,’ -the ‘Interrogative Division,’ the ‘Observational -Division,’ the ‘Propositional Division,’ etc.; and then -come the ‘Rise from Species to Genus,’ the ‘Descent from -Genus to Species.’ And then again we have exordiums: -‘Narrative Exordiums,’ ‘Expository Exordiums,’ ‘Argumentative -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>Exordiums,’ ‘Observational Exordiums,’ ‘Applicatory -Exordiums,’ ‘Topical Exordiums,’ and, alas for us! even -‘Extra-Topical Exordiums.’ One’s thoughts turn away from -a scene like this spontaneously to the Litany, and query if -there should not be a new prayer there.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But this is not all. Here are about thirty stubborn -pages to tell you how to make a <em>comment</em> on your text, and -we have the ‘Eulogistic Comment’ and the ‘Dislogistic -Comment,’ (turn to your dictionary, reader; we cannot stop -in the race to define), ‘Argumentative Comment’ and the -‘Contemplative Comment,’ the ‘Hyperbolical Comment,’ the -‘Interrogative Comment,’ and the list tapers off at last with -what it ought to have begun and ended with, the ‘Expository -Comment.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And even this is not all. Here is a section on the ‘Different -kinds of Address,’ and behold the astute analysis: -‘The Appellatory, the Entreating, the Expostulatory, the -Remedial, the Directive, the Encouraging, the Consoling, -the Elevating, the Alarming, the Tender, the Indignant, the -Abrupt.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“This is the way that the art ‘Homiletic’ would teach us -when and how to be ‘Tender,’ ‘Indignant,’ ‘Consoling,’ and -even ‘Abrupt!’ ‘Nonsense!’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, ‘nonsense!’ says any man of good sense in looking -at this folly: a folly which would be less lamentable if it -could only be kept to the homiletic professor’s chair, but -which has still an almost characteristic effect on pulpit eloquence—not -only on the <em>form</em> of the sermon, but as a natural -consequence on its very <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">animus</span></i>. This tireless author -gives all these outlines as <em>practical</em> prescriptions. He even -presents them in a precise formula. We must yield to the -temptation to quote it. ‘There are,’ he says, ‘certain technical -signs employed to distinguish the several parts of a -discourse. The first class consists of the <em>principal divisions</em>, -marked in Roman letters, thus: I., II., III., IV., etc. Next, -the <em>subdivisions of the first class</em>, in figures, 1, 2, 3, etc. Under -these, <em>subdivisions of the second class</em>, marked with a curve on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>the right, as 1), 2), 3), etc. Then, <em>subdivisions of the third class</em>, -marked with two curves, as (1), (2), (3), etc.; and under -these, <em>subdivisions of the fourth class</em>, in crotchets, thus: [1], -[2], [3]. As—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“I. Principal division.</div> - <div class='line in7'>1. Subdivision of first class.</div> - <div class='line in6'>1). Subdivision of second class.</div> - <div class='line in5'>(1). Subdivision of third class.</div> - <div class='line in5'>[1]. Subdivision of fourth class.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>“Mathematical this, certainly; some of Euclid’s problems -are plainer. As a ‘demonstration’ is obviously necessary, -the author proceeds to give the outline of a sermon on ‘<em>The -Diversity of Ministerial Gifts</em>,’ from the text ‘<em>Now there are -Diversities of Gifts</em>,’ etc. He has but two ‘General Divisions,’ -but makes up for their paucity by a generous allowance of -‘Subdivisions.’ His ‘General Divisions’ are, I. <em>Exemplify -the Truth of the Text</em>. II. <em>Derive some Lessons of Instruction</em>, -etc.,—an arrangement simple and suitable enough for any -popular audience, if he were content with it, but under the -first head he has two ‘subdivisions,’ the first of which is reduced -to <em>thirteen</em> sub-subdivisions, and one of these thirteen -again to <em>seven</em> sub-sub-subdivisions! The second of his subdivisions -again divided into <em>eight</em> sub-subdivisions, while the -‘homily’ (alas for the name!) is completed by a merciless -slashing of the second ‘general division’ into no less than -<em>eight</em> subdivisions. The honest author, when he takes breath -at the end, seems to have some compunctious misgivings -about this infinitesimal mincing of a noble theme, and reminds -the amazed student that though the plan should be -followed ‘in the composition of a sermon,’ the ‘minor divisions’ -can be concealed from view in preaching; and he -concludes the medley of nonsense with one sensible and very -timely admonition: ‘If a discourse contain a considerable -number of divisions and subdivisions,’ care should be taken -to fill up the respective parts with suitable matter, or it will -be, indeed, a mere <em>skeleton</em>—bones strung together—‘very -many and very dry!’”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>When we have accumulated our materials, stricken out all -not needed, and determined what shall be the character of -our plan, the remainder of the work must be left to individual -taste and judgment. No rules can be given that will meet -every case. We might direct to put first what is most easily -comprehended, what is necessary for understanding other -portions, and also what is least likely to be disputed. But -beyond these obvious directions little aid can be given. The -preacher must form his own ideal, and work up to it. He -may profitably examine sermon skeletons, to learn what such -forms should be. And when he hears good discourses he -may look beneath the burning words, and see what are the -merits of the frame-work on which they rest. This may -render him dissatisfied with his own achievements, but such -dissatisfaction is the best pledge of earnest effort for higher -results.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A certain means of improvement is to bestow a great deal -of time and thought on the formation of plans, and make no -disposition of any part without a satisfactory reason. If -this course is faithfully continued, the power to arrange -properly will be acquired, and firm, coherent, and logical -sermons be constructed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There are certain characteristics that each sermon skeleton -should possess. It must indicate the nature of the discourse, -and mark out each of its steps with accuracy. Any want -of definiteness is a fatal defect. The orator must feel that he -can rely absolutely on it for guidance to the end of his discourse, -or be in perpetual danger of embarrassment and confusion. -Each clause should express a distinct idea, and but -one. If it contain anything that is included under another -head, we fall into wearisome repetition, the great danger of -extempore preachers. But if discordant and disconnected -thoughts are grouped together, we are liable to forget some -of them, and in returning, destroy the order of the sermon.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A brief plan is better than a long one. Often a single word -will recall an idea as perfectly as many sentences would do, -and will burden the memory less. We do not expect the draft -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>of a house to equal the building in size, but only to indicate -the position and proportion of its apartments. The plan -cannot supply the thought, but, indicating what exists in -the mind, it shows how to bring it forth in regular order. -It is a pathway leading to a definite end, and like all -roads, its crowning merits are directness and smoothness. -Without these, it will perplex and hinder rather than aid. -Every word in the plan should express, or assist in expressing -an idea, and be so firmly bound to it that the two cannot -be separated by any exigency of speech. It is perplexing -in the heat of discourse to have a prepared note -lose the idea attached to it, and become merely an empty -word. But if the conception is clear, and the most fitting -term has been chosen to embody it, this cannot easily happen. -A familiar idea may be noted very briefly, while one -that is new requires to be more fully expressed. Most sermon -skeletons may be brought within the compass of a hundred -words, and every part be clear to the mind that conceived -it, though, perhaps not comprehensible by any -other.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is not always best to present the divisions and subdivisions -in preaching. The congregation do not care how -a sermon has been constructed, provided it comes to them -warm and pulsating with life. To give the plan of a sermon -before the sermon itself, is contrary to the analogy of nature. -She does not require us to look upon a grisly skeleton before -we can see a living body. It is no less objectionable to -name the parts and numbers of the sketch during the discourse, -for bones that project through the skin are very -uncomely. The people will not suffer, if we keep all the -divisions to ourselves, for they are only professional devices -to render our share of the work easier. Much of -the proverbial “dryness” of sermons arises from displaying -all the processes we employ. A hotel that would have its -beef killed and dressed before its guests at dinner, would -not be likely to retain its patronage. Whenever we hear a -minister state his plan in full, and take up “firstly” and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>announce the subdivisions under it, we prepare our patience -for a severe test.</p> - -<p class='c000'>What the people need, are deep, strong appeals to their -hearts, through which shines the lightning of great truths, -and the sword of God’s spirit smites—not dry, dull divisions -through which “it is easy to follow the preacher”—a compliment -often given, but always equivocal. A tree is far more -beautiful when covered with waving foliage, even if some -of the branches are hidden. Let the stream of eloquence -sweep on in an unbroken flow, bearing with it all hearts, -but giving no indication of the manner in which it is guided; -or, better still, let it move with the impetus of the cannon -ball, overthrowing everything in its path, but not proclaiming -in advance the mark toward which it is flying!</p> - -<p class='c000'>We should go as far in the plan as we intend to do in the -sermon, and know just where to stop. Then we arise with -confidence, for we are sure that we have something to say; -we know what it is; and most important of all, we will -know when it is finished. Most objections against extempore -preaching apply only to discourses that have no governing -plan. When this is firm and clear, there is no more -danger of saying what we do not intend, or of running into -endless digressions, than if we wrote every word. Indeed -there is no better way to compose a written sermon, than -by first arranging a plan.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But it may be urged that this laborious preparation—this -careful placing of every thought—will require as much time -as to write in full. It may at first. The mind needs to be -trained in the work, and it will be of great advantage even -as a mental discipline. But it grows easier with practice, -until the preparation of two sermons a week will not be felt -as a burden—will only afford grateful topics of thought while -busied at other labor. The direct toil of a mature preacher -may not exceed an hour per week.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The sermon is now clearly indicated. A plan has been -prepared that fixes each thought to be expressed in its -proper place. There is no further danger of the looseness -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>and desultoriness that are not unfrequently supposed to be -peculiar to extemporaneous speech. It is possible, in the -moment of utterance, to leave the beaten track, and give -expression to any new ideas that may be suggested. But -there is a sure foundation laid—a course marked out that -has been deeply premeditated, and which gives certainty to -all we say.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But it is not enough to have the plan on paper. As it -came from the mind at first in detached items, it must, in its -completed state, be restored to it again. Some ministers -are not willing to take the trouble of committing their skeletons -to memory, but lay the paper before them, and speak -on one point until that is exhausted, and then look up the -next, which is treated in the same manner. This tends -powerfully to impair the unity of the discourse, which -should he unbroken, and to make each note the theme of a -short, independent dissertation, rather than an integral part of -the whole. The minister reaches a point where he does not -know what is to come next, and on the brink of that gulf -looks down at his notes, and after a search, perhaps finds -what he wants. Had this latter thought existed in his mind, -it would have been taken notice of in time, and the close of -the preceding one bent into harmony with it. The direct -address of the preacher to the people, which they value so -much, is interfered with in the same way, for his eye must -rest, part of the time, on his notes. The divisions also of -the sermon are apt to be mentioned, for it is hard for the -tongue to refrain from pronouncing the words that the eye -is glancing over.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For all these reasons we believe that notes should seldom, -if ever, be used in the pulpit. They remedy none of the -acknowledged defects of extempore speaking, but add to -them the coldness and formality of reading. Those who -cannot trust the mind alone had better go further, and read -their sermons with what earnestness they can command, and -thus secure the elegant finish supposed to be attainable only -in written compositions.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>But not all who use notes thus abuse them. Many employ -them merely to prevent possible forgetfulness, and perhaps -do not look at them once during the sermon. Yet it is still -better to carry them in the pocket, and thus avoid the appearance -of servile dependence, while they would still guard -against such a misfortune as befel the Abbe Bautain, who, -on ascending the pulpit to preach before the French king -and court, found that he had forgotten the subject, plan and -text!</p> - -<p class='c000'>By committing the plan to memory the mind takes possession -of the whole subject. It is brought into one view, -and if any part is inconsistent with the main discussion, the -defect will be seen at once. If the plan is properly constructed, -the mind is then in the best possible condition for -speech. The object is fixed in the heart, and will fire it to -earnestness and zeal, and the subject is spread out before the -mind’s eye, while the two meet and mingle in such a way as -to give life and vitality to every part. This is just what is -needed in true preaching. The speaker’s soul, heated by the -contemplation of his object, penetrates every part of his -theme, investing it with an interest that compels attention. -All the power he possesses is brought to bear directly on the -people. We can scarcely imagine a great reformer—one -who has shaken the nations—to have adopted any other -method of address. Think of Xavier or Luther with their -notes spread out before them, while addressing the multitudes -who hung on their lips! The Presbyterian elder who -once prayed in the presence of his note-using pastor: “O -Lord! teach thy servants to speak from the heart to the -heart, and not from a little piece of paper, as the manner of -some is!” was not far wrong.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is well to commit the plan to memory a considerable -time before entering the pulpit. There is then less liability -of forgetting some portion of it, and it takes more complete -possession of the mind. This is less important when we -preach on subjects with which we are perfectly familiar, for -then “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>But we are not always so favored. Even if the salient -features are well known, some of the minor parts may require -close consideration. This cannot be so well bestowed until -after the plan is completely prepared, for before that time -there is danger that much of our attention may be given to -some idea which may be ultimately rejected, or changed with -the plan. But when the plan is finished, each idea has settled -into its place. If obscurity still rests anywhere, it will -be seen at once, and the strength of the mind brought to -bear on that particular point. The impressions then made -are easily retained, because associated with a part of the -prepared outline. Such deep meditation on each division of -the sermon can scarcely fail to make it original in the truest -sense of the term, and weave it together with strong and -massive thought.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After the plan is committed to memory, we can meditate -on its different portions, not only at the desk, but everywhere. -As we walk from place to place, or lie on our beds, -or at any time find our minds free from other engagements, -we can ponder the ideas that cluster around our subject -until they grow perfectly familiar. Even when we are reading, -brilliant thoughts may spring up, or those we possessed -before take stronger and more definite shape.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This course we would strongly urge on the young speaker. -If diligently followed, it will be invaluable. Arrange the -plan from which to speak as clearly as may be, and memorize -it; turn it over and over again; ponder each idea and the -manner of bringing it out; study the connection between -all the parts, until the whole, from beginning to end, appears -perfectly plain and simple. This method of preparation has -been so fully tested by experience, that its effectiveness is -no longer questionable.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is important to grasp the whole subject, as nearly as -possible, in a single idea—in the same way that the future -tree is compressed in the germ from which it springs. Then -this one thought will suggest the entire discourse to the -speaker, and at its conclusion will be left clear and positive -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>on the hearer’s mind. It is true that some acute auditors -may outrun a loose speaker, arrange his scattered fragments, -supply his omissions, and arrive at the idea which has not -yet formed itself in his own mind. Such persons often commend -preachers who are incomprehensible to the majority -of their audience. But it is not safe to trust their applause -for they are exceedingly apt to be in the minority.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After the plan is memorized, it is often of advantage to -sketch the discourse in full; if this is done in long hand, -there is danger that its slowness will make it more of a -word-study than what it is intended to be—a test of ideas. -Here short hand is valuable; and its use in this manner will -at once detect anything that may be wrong in the plan, for -if all is well arranged there need be no pause in the most -rapid composition. If we are able at one effort to throw -the whole into a dress of words, we can be confident that -with the additional stimulus supplied by the presence of a -congregation, it will be easy to do the same again. There -should be no attempt, at the time of speaking, to recall the -terms used in writing, but our command of language is -usually improved by having so lately used many of the -terms we will need again. Frequently there are fine passages -in the sermons thus struck off at white heat which we -would not willingly forget, yet it is better to make no effort -to remember them, for we are almost certain to rise even -higher in the excitement of speech.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Those who cannot write at a speed approaching that of -the tongue, and who wish a little more assistance than is furnished -by the plan, can make a brief sketch of it—a compact -and intelligible model of the whole subject. A discourse -that requires an hour in delivery may be compressed into -a wonderfully small compass, without a material thought -being omitted or obscurely indicated. Such a sketch differs -from the plan in clearly expressing all the ideas that underlie -the discourse, while the latter would be unintelligible to -any but the writer. The one is only a few marks thrown -out into the field of thought, by which an intended pathway -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>is indicated; the other is an exceedingly brief view of the -thoughts themselves, without adornment or verbiage. Some -speakers who might feel insecure in trusting the notes and -hints of the plan, would feel free to enlarge on a statement -of their thoughts, so brief as to require only two or three -minutes for reading. But this is only an expedient, and -need not be adopted by those who have confidence in their -trained and cultivated powers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The method of committing to memory a skeleton for the -purpose of securing our accumulations, is widely different -from the systems of Mnemonics that were once so current. -Ideas are linked together by natural, not artificial associations. -It is the grasping of one thought that points to -another, or dissolves, as we gaze upon it, into minuter ones, -and is, in most instances, based upon that rigid analysis -which cannot be dispensed with even by those who -would think exactly. All who write their sermons would -do well to adopt it. Strict analysis and broad generalization -are the foundation of all science, and if the preacher -builds upon them the world of spiritual truth will yield him -its treasures.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After a plan has been fully prepared it may easily be preserved -for future use, by being copied into a book kept for -the purpose, or, what is more convenient in practice, folded -into an envelope, with the subject written on the back. By -the latter means a large number may be preserved in such -form as to be readily consulted. These can be improved as -our knowledge increases, so as to be, at any time, the complete -expression of our ability on the theme treated of.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER III.<br /> <span class='large'>PRELIMINARIES—FEAR—VIGOR—OPENING EXERCISES.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>It is an anxious moment when, after having completed -his preparation, the preacher awaits the time for beginning -his intellectual battle. Men who are physically brave often -tremble in this emergency. The shame of failure appears -worse than death itself, and as the soldier feels more of cold -and shrinking terror while listening for the peal of the first -gun, than when the conflict deepens into blood around him, -so the speaker suffers more in this moment of expectancy -than in any that comes after. He sees the danger in its full -magnitude without the inspiration that attends it. Yet -he must remain calm and collected, for unless he is master -of himself, he cannot expect to rule the multitude before -him. He must keep his material well in hand, that it may -be used at the proper time, although it is not best to be continually -conning over what he has to say. The latter would -destroy the freshness of his matter, and bring him to the decisive -test weary and jaded. He only needs to be assured -that his thoughts are within reach.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is very seldom possible to banish all fear, and it is to -the speaker’s advantage that he cannot. His timidity arises -from several causes, which differ widely in the effects they -produce. A conscious want of preparation is one of the -most distressing of these. When this proceeds from willful -neglect no pity need be felt, although the penalty should be -severe. If the speaker’s object is only to win reputation—to -pander to his own vanity—he will feel more terrified than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>if his motive were worthy. Such is often the position of -the uncalled minister. He can have no help from on high, -and all his prayers for divine assistance are a mere mockery. -But if we speak because we dare not refrain, a mighty point -is gained, for then failure is no reproach. And the less of -earthly pride or ambition mingles with our motives, the -more completely can we rely on the help of the Spirit.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Another cause of fear is less unworthy. The glorious work -in which we are engaged may suffer from our insufficiency; -for, while God will bless the truth when given in its own -beauty and power, there is still scope enough for all the -vigor of intellect, and the strongest preacher feels the responsibility -of rightly using his powers resting heavily upon him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A general dread, that cannot be analyzed or accounted -for, is perhaps more keenly felt than any other. Persons -who have never spoken sometimes make light of it, but no -one will ever do so who has experienced it. The soldier, -who has never witnessed a battle, or felt the air throb with the -explosion of cannon, or heard the awful cries of the wounded, -is often a great braggart, while “the scarred veteran of a -hundred fights” never speaks of the carnival of blood without -shuddering, and would be the last, but for the call of -duty, to brave the danger he knows so well. A few speakers -never feel such fear, but it is because they do not know -what true speaking is. They have never felt the full tide of -inspiration that sometimes lifts the orator far above his -ordinary conceptions. They only come forward to relieve -themselves of the interminable stream of twaddle that wells -spontaneously to their lips, and can well be spared the pangs -that precede the birth of a profound and living discourse.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This kind of fear belongs to oratory of any character, but -especially to that which deals with sacred themes. It resembles -the awe felt on the eve of all great enterprises, and when -excessive, as it is in some highly gifted and sensitive minds, -it constitutes an absolute bar to public speech. But in most -cases it is a source of inspiration rather than of repression.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is a strange sensation often experienced in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>presence of an audience before speaking. It may proceed -from the united electric influence of the many eyes that are -turned upon the speaker, especially if he catches their gaze. -It may enchain him and leave him powerless, unless he rises -superior to it, and, throwing it backward to its source, makes -it the medium of his most subtile conquests. Most speakers -have felt this in a nameless thrill, a real something, pervading -the atmosphere, tangible, evanescent, indescribable. All -writers have borne testimony to the effect of a speaker’s -glance in impressing an audience. Why should not their -eyes have a reciprocal power?</p> - -<p class='c000'>By dwelling on the object for which we speak, and endeavoring -to realize its full importance, we will in a measure -lose sight of the danger to be incurred, and our minds be -more likely to remain in a calm and tranquil state. But no -resource is equal to the sovereign one of prayer. The Lord -will remember his servants when they are laboring in his -cause, and grant a divine influence to prepare them for the -work.</p> - -<p class='c000'>No change in the plan should be made just before speaking, -for it will almost inevitably produce confusion. Yet this -error is very difficult to avoid. The mind has a natural tendency -to be going over the same ground, revising and testing -every point, and is liable to make changes, the consequences -of which cannot at once be foreseen. After all -necessary preparation has been made, we should wait the -result quietly and hopefully. Over-study is possible, and -when accompanied by great solicitude, is a sure means of -driving away all interest from the subject. If the eye be -fixed too long upon one object, with a steadfast gaze, it will -be unable to see at all. So the mind, if confined to one -point for a great period, will lose its vivacity, and grow -weary. Nothing can compensate for the want of elasticity -and vigor in the act of delivery. It is not enough to enumerate -a dry list of particulars, but we must enter into their -spirit with the deepest interest. This cannot be counterfeited. -To clearly arrange, and weigh every thought that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>belongs to the subject, lay it aside until the time for speech, -and then enter upon it with only such a momentary glance as -will assure us that all is right, is doubtless the method to make -our strength fully available. To await the decisive moment -with calm self-confidence, is very difficult, especially for beginners, -but the ability to do it may be acquired by judicious practice -and firm resolution. M. Bautain, whose experience was -very extensive, says that he has sometimes felt so confident -of his preparation, as to fall asleep while waiting to be summoned -to the pulpit!</p> - -<p class='c000'>But those who misimprove the last moments by too much -thought, form the smallest class. Many, through mere indolence, -permit the finer lines of the future discourse, that have -been traced with so much care, to fade out. This not unfrequently -happens to those who preach a second or third time -on the same subject. Because they have succeeded once, -they imagine that the same success is always at command. -This is a hurtful, though natural error. It is not enough to -have the material for a sermon where it may be collected by -a conscious and prolonged effort, but it must be in the foreground. -There is no time, in the moment of delivery, for -reviving half obliterated lines of memory.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We once witnessed an instance of most unexpected failure -from this cause. The speaker was much engrossed with -other duties until the appointed hour, and then, having no -leisure for preparation, he selected a sermon he had preached -shortly before, and with the general course of which he was -no doubt familiar. Yet when he endeavored to produce his -thoughts they were not ready. He became embarrassed, -and was finally compelled to take his seat in the midst of -his intended discourse.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is well, during the last interval, to care for the strength -of the body, for its condition will influence all the manifestations -of mind. It is said that the pearl-diver, before venturing -into the depths of the sea, always spends a few moments -in deep breathing, and other bodily preparation. In the -excitement of speech, the whirl and hurricane of emotion, it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>is necessary that our physical condition should be such as to -bear all the tension put upon it. Mental excitement wears -down the body faster than muscular labor. To meet all its demands -we must reserve our strength for the time it is needed; -for any illness will operate as a direct reduction of the orator’s -power, and he must not hope, under its influence, to realize -full success.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Holyoake makes the following pertinent observations in -reference to this point:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Perhaps the lowest quality of the art of oratory, but -one on many occasions of the <em>first importance</em>, is a certain -robust and radiant physical health; great volumes of animal -heat. In the cold thinness of a morning audience, mere -energy and mellowness is inestimable; wisdom and learning -would be harsh and unwelcome compared with a substantial -man, who is quite a house-warming.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The picture painted in romances of a speaker with attenuated -form, and trembling step, scarcely able to sustain his -own weight as he ascends the platform, but who, the moment -he opens his lips, becomes transfigured in the blaze of -eloquence, is more poetical than natural. Let the instrument -be in perfect tune, and then can the hand of genius -evoke from it sweet and thrilling music.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As the time for speaking approaches every fatiguing exertion -should be avoided.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the “Rudiments of Public Speaking,” Holyoake gives -a passage from his own experience which well illustrates this:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“One Saturday I walked from Sheffield to Huddersfield to -deliver on the Sunday two anniversary lectures. It was my -first appearance there, and I was ambitious to acquit myself -well. But in the morning I was utterly unable to do more than -talk half inaudibly and quite incoherently. In the evening -I was tolerable, but my voice was weak. My annoyance was -excessive. I was a paradox to myself. My power seemed -to come and go by some eccentric law of its own. I did -not find out till years after that the utter exhaustion of my -strength had exhausted the powers of speech and thought, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>and that entire repose instead of entire fatigue should have -been the preparation for public speaking.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Absolute rest is not generally advisable, for then the -preacher would enter the pulpit with languid mind and -slowly beating pulse, and would require some time to overcome -this state. A brisk walk, when the health is good, -will invigorate and refresh all his faculties, and in part prevent -the feebleness and faintness of a listless introduction, -by enabling him to grasp the whole subject at once, and -launch right into the heart of it. Should any one doubt the -power of exercise to produce this effect, let him, when perplexed -with difficult questions in his study, start out over -fields and hills, and review the matter in the open air. If -the minister cannot secure this kind of exercise he may easily -find a substitute. If alone, he can pace back and forth, -and swing his arms, until the circulation becomes brisk, and -pours a stream of arterial blood to the brain that will supply -all its demands.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Another simple exercise will often prove of great advantage. -It is well known that many ministers injure themselves -by speaking too much from the throat. This results -from improper breathing—from elevating the upper part of -the chest instead of pressing the abdomen downward and -outward, causing the air to pass through the whole length -of the lungs. To breathe properly is always important, and -does much to prevent chest and throat diseases. But it is -worthy of the most careful attention on the part of the -speaker, for by it alone can he attain full compass and range -of voice. But in animated extempore speech there is no -time to think of the voice at all, and the only method possible -is to make the right way so habitual that it will be adopted -instinctively. This will be greatly promoted if, just before -beginning to speak, we will breathe deeply a number of -times, inflating the lungs completely to their extremities.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At this last hour, the speaker must not dwell upon the -dangers he is about to encounter, or picture the desirability -of escape from them. He has taken every precaution and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>made every preparation. Nothing remains for him but to -put his trust in God, and bravely do his duty.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The order of opening services is different in the different -churches, but in all they are of great advantage to the minister -by overcoming excessive timidity, and giving an easy -introduction to the audience. The hymn, or psalm, is to be -read, which is not a very embarrassing task, and in doing it -he becomes familiar with the sound of his own voice. Yet -it requires many rare qualities to read well. Good sense -and modesty are essential. The theatric method, sometimes -admired, exaggerating every tone, and performing strange -acrobatic feats of sound, tends to dispel the solemn awe and -reverence that should gather around the sanctuary. Let the -hymn be read quietly, with room for rise as well as fall, and -all be perfectly natural and unaffected. The sentiment expressed -by the voice should correspond with the meaning of -the words. Even in this preliminary exercise, it is possible -to strike a chord that will vibrate in unison through the -hearts of preacher and people.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Prayer is still more important. When it is read, the same -remarks apply as to the reading of the hymns. Each word -should be made the echo of an inward feeling. But in most -American churches prayer is extempore. The minister addresses -heaven in his own words, on behalf of himself and -congregation. The golden rule here is to pray really to -God. That minister had no reason to feel flattered, whose -prayer was commended as the most eloquent ever offered to -a Boston congregation! The mass of humanity before us -should only be thought of, in order to express their wants, -and to intercede for them at a throne of grace. The simpler -our language the better it is fitted for this purpose. Gaudy -rhetoric, and even the charm of melodious words, if in the -slightest degree sought for, is out of place. The only praise -that should be desired from a congregation, in regard to their -pastor’s prayers, is the acknowledgment that their holy -yearnings and aspirations, as well as their needs, have been -clearly expressed. All beyond this is disgusting.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>Neither should fervid utterance be strained after. If -deep emotions arise, and express themselves in the voice, it -is well. But without these, mere loudness of tone will be -empty noise; the prayer will be the hardest part of the -service; and complex metaphors and profuse poetical quotations -will afford very inadequate relief. But if the heart be -full it is easy to pray, and this renders all the remainder of -the service easier. A bond of true spiritual sympathy unites -the preacher with all the good in his congregation, and as -he rises to speak, their prayers are given for his success.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER IV.<br /> <span class='large'>THE DIVISIONS—INTRODUCTION—DISCUSSION—CONCLUSION.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>The sermon is the culmination of ministerial labor. Other -duties are important, but preaching is highest of all. Example, -conversation, private influence, only prepare the way -for the great Sabbath work. In it the minister can speak -to the assembled multitude with the freedom and boldness -of truth. The believer receives deeper insight into God’s -ways, and directions for his own walk. The careless listen -while he denounces impending wrath and shows the only -means of escape. He wields tremendous power, and if sincere -and unselfish, he cannot fail to win stars for his heavenly -crown.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We will consider the sermon under the three parts of -introduction, discussion and conclusion. It is often divided -more minutely, but these will be sufficient for our purpose.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Nothing is harder to frame than a good introduction. It -is indispensable, for, however we may approach our subject -there is a first moment when silence is broken and our -thoughts introduced. The rustle of closing hymn books -and the subsiding murmur of the audience, tell the speaker -that the time has come. If he be sensitive, or has never -spoken before, his pulse beats fast, his face flushes, an indescribable -feeling of faintness and fear thrills every nerve. -He advances to the pulpit, and reads from the Bible the -words that are to be the warrant for his utterances, and -breathing a silent prayer for help, opens his lips, and hears -the tremulous echo of his own voice.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is a vast difference between reciting and extemporizing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>at first, and the advantage is all on the side of recitation. -Every word is in its proper place, and the speaker is -perfectly calm and self-confident. He is sure that his memory -will not fail in the opening, and will usually throw his -whole power into it, causing his voice to ring clear and loud -over the house. But it is different with the extempore -speaker. He is sure of nothing, and the weight of the -whole speech is heavy on his mind. He is glancing ahead, -striving to forecast the coming sentences, as well as caring -for those gliding over the tongue, and his first expressions -may be feeble and ungraceful. Yet this display of modesty -and timidity will conciliate the audience and secure their -good will. We can scarcely fail to distinguish an extemporized -discourse from a recited one, by the difference in the -introduction alone.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Some persons commit the opening passages of the sermon, -to avoid the pain and hesitancy of an unstudied beginning. -But while this may accomplish the immediate object, it is -apt to be at the expense of the remaining part of the discourse. -The mind cannot pass easily from recitation to extemporization, -and the voice, being too freely used at first, -loses its power. The hearers having listened to highly polished -language, cannot so well relish the plain words that -follow, and the whole sermon, which, like the condor, may -have pitched from Alpine summits, falls fast and far until -the lowest level is reached. A written introduction may be -modest and unpretending, but unless it is exactly like unstudied -speech there will be a painful transition.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A favorite method of avoiding these difficulties is to make -no formal introduction, but plunge at once into the heart of -the subject. Occasionally, this can be done to good advantage, -and tends to prevent a monotonous uniformity. But -as a rule it is better to prepare the minds of our hearers by -all needed observations, and gradually lead them to our subject.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The introduction should not be left to the chance of the -moment. It requires more careful study than any other -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>part of the sermon, for the tide of speech, which may afterward -bear us over many barriers, is not then in full flow. -But the preparation should be general, and not extend to -the words. A first sentence may be forecast, but much beyond -this will do harm. For the introduction should not be -the part of the discourse longest remembered. It would be -better to omit it, than to have the attention distracted from -the main subject. For this reason nothing far-fetched or -hard to be understood should be admitted. But, beginning -with some familiar thought closely connected with the text, -it should remove difficulties and open the whole subject for -discussion.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Much is gained if, at the outset, we can arrest the attention -and win the sympathy of our hearers. They come -together from many different employments, with thoughts -fixed on various objects, and it is a difficult task to remove -these distracting influences and cause the assembly to dwell -with intense interest on one subject. Sometimes a startling -proposition will accomplish this end. Earnestness in the -speaker tends powerfully toward it. But sameness must be -carefully avoided. If every sermon is carried through an -unvarying number of always-expressed divisions and subdivisions, -the hearer knows what is coming, and loses all -curiosity. We have heard of a minister who made it a rule -to consider the nature, reason and manner of everything he -spoke of. He would ask the questions: “What is it? Why -is it? How is it?” The eloquence of Paul would not many -times have redeemed such an arrangement.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A considerable degree of inattention is to be expected in -every audience at first, and the speaker’s opening words may -be unheard by many and unheeded by all. It is useless to -attempt by violent means and loudness of voice to awaken -them from their indifference. The preacher may safely bide -his time. If his words have weight and his manner indicate -confidence, one by one will listen, until that electric -thrill of sympathy, impossible to describe, but which can be -felt as easily as an accord in music, will vibrate through the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>hearts of all present. Then the orator’s power is fully developed, -and it is delightful to use it. This silent, pulsating -interest is more to be desired than vehement applause, for -it cannot be counterfeited, and indicates that the hearts of -the assemblage have been reached, and fused by the fires of -eloquence, and are ready to be molded into any desired form. -Happy the minister who has this experience, for if his own -heart is enlightened by the Holy Spirit, he can stamp on the -awakened multitude the seal of undying truth.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The introduction should be plain, simple and direct. But -its very simplicity renders it more difficult to construct. -Preachers who are great in almost everything else, often -fail by making their introductions too complicated, thus -defeating their own purpose as surely as the engineer who -gives his road such steep grades, that no train can pass over -it. Others deliver a string of platitudes that no one wishes -to hear, and the audience grows restive at the very beginning.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When from these or other causes, the sermon is misbegun, -the consequences are likely to be serious. The thought is -forced home on the speaker, with icy weight, that he is failing, -and this conviction paralyzes all his faculties. He talks -on, but grows more and more embarrassed. Incoherent -sentences drop from him, requiring painful explanation to prevent -them from degenerating into perfect nonsense. The outline -of his plan dissolves into mist. The points he intended -to make, and thought strong and important, now appear -very trivial. He blunders on with little hope ahead. The -room may grow dark before him, and in the excess of his -discomfort, he ardently longs for the time when he can close -without absolute disgrace. But, alas! the end seems far off. -In vain he searches for some avenue of escape. There is -none. His throat becomes dry and parched, and the command -of his voice is lost. The audience grow restive, for -they are tortured, as well as the speaker, and if he were -malicious he might find some alleviation in this. But he -has no time to think of it, or if he does, it reacts on himself. -No one can help him. At last, in sheer desperation, he cuts -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>the Gordian knot, and stops—perhaps seizing some swelling -sentence, and hurling it as a farewell volley at the audience—or -speaks of the eternal rest, which no doubt appears very -blissful in comparison with his own unrest—then sits down -bathed in sweat, and feeling that he is disgraced forever! -If he is very weak or foolish, he resolves that he will never -speak again without manuscript, or, if wiser, that he will -not only understand his discourse, but how to begin it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The passage from the introduction to the discussion should -be gradual. To make the transition smoothly, and strike -the subject just at the right point, continuing the interest -that may have been previously excited, is a most important -achievement. A strong, definite purpose materially assists -in this, for it dwells equally in all parts of the sermon. The -object is clearly in view, and we go right up to it with no -wasted words, while the people cheerfully submit to our -guidance because they see that we have an aim before us. -But if this be absent we may steer around our subject, and -are never quite ready to enter upon it, even if we are not -wrecked at the outset. A careful preparation of the plan -will do much to prevent this, but it is not enough, for the -words and phrases are not to be prepared. With every -precaution, the best of speakers may fail at this point, and -the more brilliant the introduction the more marked will the -failure be. When this danger is safely passed, he is in the -open sea, and the triumphs of eloquence are before him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is great pleasure in speaking well. An assembly -hanging on the words, and thinking the thoughts of a single -man, gives to him the most subtile kind of flattery, and he -needs to beware how he yields to its influence, or his fall will -be speedy and disastrous. The triumphs of oratory are very -fascinating. The ability to sway our fellow men at will—to -bind them with the strong chain of our thought, and make -them willing captives—produces a delirious and intoxicating -sense of power. But this is very transient, and unless taken -advantage of at the moment, to work some enduring result, -it fades, like the beautiful cloud-work of morning, before the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>rising sun. Even during the continuance of a sermon it is -hard to maintain the influence of a happy moment. Persons -not unfrequently give utterance to some great and noble -thought, that echoes in the hearts of the audience, and the -nameless thrill of eloquence is felt, but some irrelevant -phrase, or commonplace sentiment dissolves all the charm. -To avoid this, the whole discourse must be of a piece, and -rise in power until the object is accomplished.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Diffuseness is often supposed to be an essential quality of -extemporaneous speech. It is not such, though many speakers -do fall into it. The reason of this fault is that they are -not content to place the subject in a strong light by one -forcible and luminous expression, but say nearly what they -mean, and continue their efforts until they are satisfied. -They furnish no clear view of anything, but give a sort of -twilight intimation of their idea. But serious as this fault -is, it may easily be overcome. Exquisite finish, and elaborate -arrangement are not to be expected in off-hand speech, -but we may give force and true shading to every idea just -as well as in writing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>To express exactly what we mean at the first effort, is one -of the greatest beauties of a spoken style. The hearer is -filled with grateful surprise when some new and living idea -is placed before him, clothed in a single word or sentence. -But a diffuse speaker gives so many premonitions of his -thought, that the audience comprehend it before he is half -through the discussion, and are forced to await his ending, -in listless weariness. He never receives credit for an original -idea, because his advances toward it call up the same thought -in the mind of his hearers, and when formally presented it -has lost all novelty, and seems to be trite.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The same study that will impart the power of condensation -in writing will do it in speech, for it can only be obtained -in either by earnest, persevering effort. Frequently -forecast what to say, and drive it into the smallest possible -number of vivid, expressive words; then, without memorizing -the language, reproduce the same thought briefly as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>possible in the hurry of speech. It may be less compact -than the studied production, but if so, let the effort be repeated -with the knowledge of where the defect is, and this -continued until it can be cast into bold, well-defined outlines -at a single impulse. This process, often repeated, will give -the ability to condense, but in order to exercise it successfully -another quality is needed. We must be able to resist -the seduction of fine language. No sentence should be -introduced because it glitters or sparkles, for a single unnecessary -word that requires others to explain its use, may -damage a whole sermon. Let the best words be chosen with -reference to beauty and impressiveness as well as strict -appropriateness, but the latter must never be sacrificed. -The danger of showy language in speech is greater than in -a written composition, for if the writer be drawn too far -away, he can go back and begin again, while the speaker has -only one trial. If beauties lie in his way all the better, but -he must never leave his path to search for them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bishop Simpson’s lecture on “The Future of our Country,” -was a model of compactness. Every gaudy ornament was -discarded, and short, simple sentences conveyed ideas that -would have furnished a florid speaker with inexhaustible -material. The whole discourse was radiant with true beauty—the -beauty of thought shining through the drapery of -words, and each idea, unweakened by any pause of expectation, -struck the mind as new truth, or the echo of what was -felt, but never so well expressed before.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have seen directions for “expanding thought,” and have -heard young speakers admire the ease and skill with which -it was done. But thoughts are not like medicines which -require dilution in order to be more certain in their effects, -and more readily taken. It is far better to give the essence -of an idea, and go on to something else. If thoughts are -too few, it is more profitable to dig and delve for others, than -to attenuate and stretch what we have. We need deep, -burning, throbbing conceptions that will live without artificial -aid.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>A similar error exists in regard to the kind of language -best adapted to oratory. High-sounding epithets and latinized -words are sometimes supposed to be the proper dress -of eloquence. These might give an impression of our learning -or wisdom to an ignorant audience, but could not strike -the chords of living sympathy that link all hearts together. -Language is only available as a medium, so far as hearer and -speaker understand it in common. If we use a term the -congregation have seldom heard, even if they can arrive at -its meaning, it will lose all its force whilst they are striving -to understand it. But one of the homely Saxon words that -dwell on the lips of the people, will unlade its meaning in -the heart as soon as its sound strikes the ear. For while -uncommon words erect a barrier around thought, familiar -ones are perhaps not noticed at all, leaving the feeling to -strike directly to its mark.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The only reason why Saxon derivatives are so powerful, -is because they are usually the words of every-day life. But -the test of usefulness is not in etymology. If terms of Latin -or French origin have passed into the life of the people, they -will serve the highest purpose of the orator. Of coarse, all -debased and slang words should be rejected. We do not -plead for “the familiarity that breeds contempt.” The two -great requisites in the use of words are, that they should -exactly express our idea, and be familiar to the audience. -Melody and association should not be despised, but they -are secondary.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Every sermon should have strong points upon which -especial reliance is placed. A general has his choice battalions -reserved to pierce the enemy’s line at the decisive -moment, and win the battle. It is important to know how -to place these reserved thoughts, that all their weight may -be felt.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A crisis occurs in nearly every sermon—a moment when -a strong argument or a fervent appeal will produce the result -intended, or when failure becomes inevitable—just as a vigorous -charge, or the arrival of reinforcements, will turn the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>scale of battle, when the combatants grow weary and dispirited. -The speaker, knowing what his object is, should so -dispose his forces as to drive steadily toward it, and when -within reach, put forth all his power in one mighty effort, -achieving the result for which the whole speech was intended. -If neglected, such chances seldom return, and an hour’s talk -may fail to accomplish as much as one good burning sentence -thrown in at the right time. This should be foreseen, and -the idea, which we know to be the key of our discourse, carefully -prepared—in thought, not word.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Quotations, either in prose or poetry, may be often used -to good advantage, but should be short, appropriate and -secondary. The grand effect of an extempore discourse -must not depend on a borrowed passage, or its character will -be changed, and its originality lost.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have all along taken it for granted that deep thought -underlies the whole discourse. Without this, a sermon or -any serious address deserves no success. Under some circumstances -nothing is expected but sound to tickle the ear. -This is play, while the eloquence of the pulpit is solemn -work. The very fact that the speaker has a solid and worthy -foundation, gives him confidence. He knows that if his -words are not ringing music, he will still have a claim on -the attention of his auditors.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is not necessary that our thoughts should extend far -beyond the depths of the common mind, for the most weighty -truths lie nearest to the surface, and within the reach of all. -But most men do not dwell long enough on one subject to understand -even its obvious features, and when these are fully -mastered and presented in striking form, it is like a new revelation. -A good illustration of this is found in the sublimity -that Kitto imparts to the journeyings of the Israelites. Very -few new facts are stated, but all are so arranged and vivified -by a thoughtful mind, that the subject grows into new meaning. -Let the preacher, by speaking extempore, save his -time for investigation and study, and his sermons will soon -have a charm beyond any jingling combination of words.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>Is the minister, as he stands before a congregation with -their eyes fixed upon him, to expect them to be overwhelmed -by his eloquence? Such a result is possible, but is seldom -attained, especially when sought for. If persons attempt -what is beyond their power, the only result will be to render -themselves ridiculous. But good sense and solid usefulness -are within the reach of all. Any man who studies a subject -till he knows more about it than others do, can interest -them in a fireside explanation, if they care for the matter at -all. He communicates his facts in a plain style and they -understand him. Many persons will sit delighted till midnight -to hear a man converse, but will go to sleep if he -address them half an hour in public. In the first case he -talks, and is simple and unaffected; in the other he speaks, -and uses a style stiffened up for the occasion. When Henry -Clay was asked how he became so eloquent, he said he knew -nothing about it; when he commenced an address he had -only the desire to speak what he had prepared (not committed), -and adhered to this until he was enwrapped in his -subject and carried away, he knew not how. This is a characteristic -of the modern, as opposed to the ancient, school of -eloquence. The latter memorized, while our greatest speakers -only arrange, and speak in a plain, business style, until -hurried by the passion of the moment into bolder flights. -If this does not happen, they still give a good and instructive -speech.</p> - -<p class='c000'>These few considerations may be of use when the speaker -stands in the pulpit, but he must rely on his own tact for -the management of details. Closely observing the condition -of the audience, taking advantage of every favoring -circumstance, he moves steadily towards his object. With -an unobstructed road before him, which he has traveled in -thought until it is familiar, he will advance with ease and -certainty. As he gazes into the intent faces around, new -ideas arise, and, if fitting, are woven into what was previously -prepared, often with thrilling effect. Each emotion -kindled by sympathy will embody itself in words that touch -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>the heart as nothing prepared could do, and each moment -his own conviction sinks deeper in the hearts of his hearers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There are three principal ways of concluding a sermon. -The first, and most graceful, is to condense a clear -view of the whole argument, and leave the audience with -the comprehensive impression thus made. This is admirably -adapted to discourses the principal object of which is to convince -the understanding. To throw the whole sweep of the -argument, every point of which has been enforced, into a few -telling, easily remembered sentences, will go far to make the -impression permanent.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The old plan of closing with an exhortation, is perhaps -the most generally beneficial. An application is the same -thing in substance, only a little less pungent and personal. -In it the whole sermon is made to bear on the duty of the -moment. It should be closely connected with what went -before; for a general exhortation, fitting the end of every -sermon, cannot well apply to any. All the sermon should -be gathered up, as it were, and hurled as a solid mass into -the hearts and consciences of those whom we wish to affect, -thus making it a real “thrust,” of which the exhortation is -the barbed point. It should be short, and no new matter -introduced at the time the audience are expecting the end.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The third method is to break off when the last item is -finished. If the lines of the argument are few and simple, or -so strong that they cannot fail to be remembered, there is -no need to recapitulate them. And if the exhortation has -kept pace with the progress of the sermon, there is no place -for it at the close. If both these coincide, a formal conclusion -would be a superfluity. It is only necessary to finish -the development of the plan, care being taken that the last -idea discussed shall be one of dignity and importance. This -is simply stopping when done, and is certainly an easy -method of closing, though, in practice, too often neglected.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER V.<br /> <span class='large'>AFTER CONSIDERATIONS—SUCCESS—REST—IMPROVEMENT.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>When we have concluded a fervent discourse, especially -if successful, there comes a feeling of inexpressible relief. -For the burden of a speech accumulates on the mind, from -the time the subject is chosen, until it grows almost intolerable. -When we begin to speak all our powers are called -into play, and exerted to the limit of their capacity. The -excitement of the conflict hurries us on, and although we -may not realize the gigantic exertions we put forth, yet -when we pause, with the victory won, the sense of relief and -security is exceedingly delightful. Yet we must not indulge -too deeply in the self-gratulation so natural at such a moment. -If we have conquered, it has been in God’s name, not our -own, and the first thing to be done is to offer him thanks -for our preservation. This is but the complement of the -prayers made at the beginning of the service, for if we ask -help with fear and trembling, before the real perils of speech -begin, it would be very wrong, in the hour of triumph, to -cease to remember the arm upon which we leaned. But by -pouring out our thankfulness to God, we are at the same -time preserved from pride and undue exaltation, and encouraged -to depend upon Him more fully the next time we speak.</p> - -<p class='c000'>If the effort has been an earnest one, both mind and body -need rest. There are speakers who profess to feel no fatigue -after an hour’s labor, but these seldom occupy a place in the -first class. If the soul has really been engaged, and all the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>powers of mind and body bent to the accomplishment of a -great object, relaxation must follow, and often a sense of -utter prostration. It is well, if possible, to abandon ones-self -to the luxury of rest—that utter repose so sweet after -severe labor. Even social intercourse should be avoided. -A short sleep, even if only for a few minutes, will afford -great relief, and it is much to be regretted that circumstances -so often interfere with the enjoyment of such a -luxury. After the morning service, especially if the minister -has to preach again in the evening, all labor, even in the -Sabbath-school, should be avoided, although, before preaching, -such toil will only form a grateful introduction to the -duties of the day. No practice is more pernicious than that -of inviting the minister to meet company, at dinner-parties -or elsewhere, immediately after service. This is objectionable -for two reasons; the conversation at such parties seldom -accords with the sanctity of the Sabbath, and if unexceptionable -in this respect, a continued tax is made upon -the already exhausted brain—a tax greater during such a -state of relaxation and languor, than ten-fold the labor -would be at another period. Let the preacher, when he -can, retire to the privacy of his own home, and there enjoy -the freedom of untrammelled rest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is well to ponder closely the lessons derived from each -new experience in speaking. The minister can never exactly -measure his own success, and may often lament as a failure -that effort which has accomplished great good. He has in -his mind an ideal of excellence by which he estimates his sermons. -If this be placed very low, he may succeed in coming -up to it, or even pass beyond it, without accomplishing -anything worthy of praise. But in such a case he is apt to -be well satisfied with the result. And often the sermons -with which we are least pleased, are really the best. For -in the mightiest efforts of mind the standard is placed very -high—sometimes beyond the limit of possible attainment, -and the speaker works with his eye fixed upon the summit, -and often, after all his exertions, sees it shining above him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>still, and closes with the conviction that his ideas are but -half expressed. He feels mortified that there should be such -difference between conception and execution. But his -hearers, who have been led over untrodden fields of thought, -know nothing of the heights still above the orator’s head, -and are filled with enthusiasm, or have received new impulses -to good. This is the reason why we are least able to -judge of the success of sermons that have been long meditated, -and are thoroughly prepared. The subject expands -as we study it, and its outlines become grander and vaster, -until they pass beyond our power of representation. And -each separate thought that is mastered also becomes familiar, -and is not valued at its full worth by the speaker. If he had -begun to speak without thought, intending to give only the -easy and common views of his subject, all would have been -fresh to him, and if a striking idea presented itself, its novelty -would have enhanced its appreciation. This is no reason -against diligent preparation, but rather a strong argument -in favor of it. It should only stimulate us to improve -our powers of expression as well as of conception.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But with all these sources of uncertainty in our judgment -of our own productions, we should not be indifferent to our -perceptions of success or failure. In the greater number of -instances will be correct, and we can very frequently discover -the cause of either, and use this knowledge to future -profit.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Even if we imagine our failure to be extreme, we have no -need to feel unduly discouraged. God can, and does, often -work with the feeblest instruments, and the sermon we -despise may accomplish its purpose. The writer preached -one evening when very weary, and almost unprepared. From -first to last a painful effort was required to find anything to -say, and to prevent utter failure the intended plan had to -be abandoned, and new, detached thoughts thrown in as -they could be found. And yet that discourse, which was -scarcely worthy of the name, elicited warmer approval, and -apparently accomplished more good, than any one from the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>same preacher ever given at that point. But such instances -should never lead us to neglect all the preparation in our -power, for usually when failure springs from a real defect, -the verdict of the people will coincide with our own.</p> - -<p class='c000'>However we may judge of our success it is not wise to -ask any of our hearers for their opinion. We may observe -any indications of the effect produced, and, if the criticisms -of others are offered spontaneously, it is not necessary to -repulse them, especially if they are marked by a spirit of -candor and good will; but all seeking for commendation is -debasing. It is sweet to hear our sermons praised, and most -of men can endure an amount of flattery addressed to themselves, -that would be disgusting if applied to others; but if -we indulge this disposition it will become ungovernable, and -expose us to well-deserved ridicule. It is pitiable to see a -man who is mighty in word and thought, who wields the -vast powers of eloquence, stooping to beg crusts of indiscriminate -praise from his hearers. Nothing contributes more -to destroy our influence, and make our audience believe that -we are merely actors, unaffected by the sublime truths we -declare.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is well to think over our sermons after they have been -preached, and if any defect appear, amend it in the plan, -and add all the new ideas that may have been suggested during -speech. This prepares us to preach still better when we -have occasion to use the same plan a second time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Some ministers are accustomed to write their sermons -after delivery. This may do well, especially when the theme -is of great importance, but in general, it is questionable -whether the advantage is great enough to warrant the expenditure -of so much time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But to review and correct a verbatim report of our sermons -would be far more profitable. If some short-hand -writer—a member of our family, or any other who is willing -to take so much trouble—will preserve our words for us, a -revisal of them on Monday would be of immense benefit. -The offensiveness of pet phrases, which we might otherwise -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>be unconscious of for years, would be detected at once. -Faults of expression, and especially the profuseness of words, -in which extempore speakers are apt to indulge, would be -forced upon our notice; and if any really valuable ideas -occurred, they could be preserved. There would be little -use in writing the sermon over in full, for we would commonly -find that it might be reduced to one-third or one-fourth -its bulk without material injury. The habitual condensation -of our sermons after delivery, would teach us to -express our thoughts compactly even in speech.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The only difficulty in applying this capital means of improvement, -is the small number of persons who can write -short-hand with sufficient rapidity—a difficulty that may be -less in the future than it has been in the past, and can now -be obviated by the minister’s wife or daughters, who may -have sufficient perseverance and devotion to master the -laborious, but precious art for his sake.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span> - <h2 class='c006'>PART III.<br /> MISCELLANEOUS ADDRESSES.</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER I.<br /> <span class='large'>INSTRUCTIVE ADDRESS.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>We will give only a brief consideration to the various -fields of oratory outside the pulpit, because the greater number -of principles already laid down can be applied, with -slight modifications, to any kind of speech. The different -varieties of secular address may be divided as follows:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in2'>I. Instructive Oratory.</div> - <div class='line in1'>II. Legal Oratory.</div> - <div class='line'>III. Deliberative Oratory.</div> - <div class='line in1'>IV. Popular Oratory.</div> - <div class='line in2'>V. Controversial Oratory.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>We apply the first term to all oral teaching, more connected -than question and answer, and to all lectures that -have instruction for their primary object. This species of -discourse differs from the sermon in the absence of persuasion, -rather than in its positive character. The lecturer -should thoroughly understand the topic he attempts to unfold, -and place it in the clearest possible light. Much illustration -is needed, for the subject is usually a novel one to the -greater portion of the audience, and can be best explained -by comparison with familiar objects. It should have its -strong central points, which can be easily remembered, and -around which the minor parts of the discourse may be -grouped, for if the whole consist of isolated facts poured -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>forth without generalization or arrangement, no distinct impression -will be left.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Appeals to passion and emotion are less necessary in lectures -than in most other kinds of speech. Yet so closely -are heart and intellect connected, that we can arouse attention, -and secure a more durable result, if the facts we narrate -are linked with the experiences and emotions of life.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The practice of writing is even more prevalent when -applied to lectures than to sermons, and the reasons urged -in its favor have more plausibility. As the lecturer does not -aim to move his hearers to immediate action, the advantages -of direct address are less required. Still he wishes to interest -them, and it may be questioned whether this can, in any -case, be so well accomplished from manuscript. But it is -urged that in a scientific lecture there is often too great a -number of detached facts to be easily remembered. This -may be true, but it suggests another important question: if -they cannot be recalled by the speaker who has reviewed -them again and again for days together, how can it be -expected that those who only hear them read over once, will -retain any distinct impression? A clearer generalization of -the whole discourse, and a proper arrangement of each fact -under the principle which it illustrates, would go far to -obviate both difficulties. Yet, in the use of statistics or -other items, about which the speaker wishes to be precise, -though he may only care to give the audience a general conception -of them, notes will be a great relief to the memory, -and the statement of principles deduced can be still made in -direct address.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After a man has become so famous that each word he -utters will be listened to with profound attention, because it -comes from him, he may write safely. This is especially the -case with those who have become authorities in their own -departments of knowledge. What they say is received -rather as a conclusion to argument, than as an assertion to be -weighed, and the calm, deliberate reading of such final statements -has all needed impressiveness. But if we have not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>attained this position, we had better employ every legitimate -means to interest our audiences.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is often claimed by the advocates of reading, that a -literary lecture must be written to secure the polish and -smoothness needful in the treatment of such themes. It -will not do, say they, to give, in our words and manner, an -illustration of the absence of the very qualities we praise. -But surely men can speak on a subject they understand in -good grammar and fitting language, without having first -placed each word on paper! And if they attempt much -beyond this they lead the mind of the hearer from the subject -to a consideration of the skill of the lecturer. We are -ready to grant that compositions should be read, not spoken, -when ever they cease to instruct about something else, and -become an exhibition in themselves. A poet is right in -reading his poem; and even in prose, if we wish to call -attention to our melodious words, and our skill in literary -composition, instead of the subject we have nominally taken, -it will be well to write. But the resulting composition will -not be a lecture.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The field for instructive lectures is constantly enlarging. -In former times they were monopolized by university professors, -and very few persons sought to teach the people. -But this has changed. There are now many more schools -where courses of lectures are given on various topics, and -every town of any pretension has its annual lecture course. -Even these are not sufficient to meet the increasing demand, -and, as every community cannot pay Beecher or Gough from -one to five hundred dollars for an evening’s entertainment, -there is abundant scope for humbler talent. Strolling lecturers, -without character or knowledge, reap a rich harvest -from the credulity of the people. Even the noble science -of phrenology is often disgraced by quacks, who perambulate -the country and pretend to explain its mysteries—sometimes -telling character and fortunes at the same time. So -far has this prostitution of talent and opportunity gone, that -the village lecturer is often placed in a category with circus -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>clowns and negro minstrels. But this should not be, and no -class could do more to prevent it than the clergy. If they -would each prepare a lecture or two upon some important -subject they have mastered, they could extend their usefulness, -and teach others besides their own flocks.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Lecturers are becoming more numerous and popular. New -sciences and arts are continually springing into being, and -there is no way that a knowledge of them can be so readily -diffused among the masses of the people, as by public addresses -upon them. Even the oldest of the sciences—Astronomy—has -been brought to the knowledge of thousands -who otherwise would have remained in ignorance of its mysteries. -It was thus that the lamented General O. M. Mitchel -succeeded in awakening public interest, and in securing funds -for the erection of his observatory at Cincinnati.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Benefit lectures are very common. In these the services -of the lecturer are given gratis, or for a nominal compensation, -and persons are induced to purchase tickets that some -good cause may be benefited by the proceeds. This is the -most pleasant of compromises, and is surely better than fairs, -gift drawings, etc., although when the patronage of the public -is thus secured for a lecture that has no real merit, the -benefit is more questionable.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The most important point in a lecture is that the subject -be thoroughly understood, and so arranged that there may -be no difficulty in grasping the whole thought. Vivacity -and life will prevent the audience from growing weary; wit, -if it be true and delicate, will add to the interest, and has a -far larger legitimate sphere than in a sermon. Ornaments, -too, may abound, provided they do not call attention away -from the subject, or weaken the force of expression. The -plan of a lecture may be constructed in a manner similar to -that of a sermon, as the end in view is not very different. -If this be well arranged, and all the principles, facts and -illustrations be properly placed, no need of writing will be -felt.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span> - <h3 class='c001'>CHAPTER II.<br /> <span class='large'>MISCELLANEOUS ADDRESS—LEGAL—DELIBERATE—POPULAR—CONTROVERSIAL.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>The speech adapted to the bench and bar presents some -peculiar features. The lawyer deals with facts and living -issues. He works for immediate results, and therefore uses -the means best adapted to secure them. The use of manuscript, -which increases in proportion as we remove from the -sphere of passion, finds no place when life and property are -at stake. The lawyer who would read his appeal to the -jury in an exciting case, would have few others to make. -At the bar the penalty for inefficiency is so rapid and certain, -that every nerve is strained to avoid it. To argue -with a lawyer against the use of written discourses, would be -like proving the advantage of commerce to an Englishman. -His danger lies in the opposite direction—that of caring too -little for polish, and of making the verdict of the jury his -only aim.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A lawyer should never contend for what he believes to be -wrong. Yet the common estimate of the morality of -attorneys is not based on fact. They may have greater -temptations than some others, and many of them may fall, -but another reason than this accounts for the grave imputations -cast on them. In every suit, at least one party must -be disappointed, and it is natural that, in his bitterness, he -should throw discredit on all the agencies by which his -hopes were destroyed. But this is most frequently groundless. -The lawyer may be counsel for a man whom he knows -to be in the wrong, but he ought never to take his stand on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>a false position. He may show any weakness in his adversary’s -case, and see that all the provisions of the law are -faithfully complied with, but must not endeavor to distort -the truth. An adherence to this determination will soon -give his words a power and influence that will more than -counterbalance all disadvantages. Let him seek for the -strong points in his own case, and then throw them into the -simplest and boldest shape, not forgetting the importance -of appealing to the heart, as well as head, of judge and jury.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The judge differs from the advocate in having both sides -of the case to present, and in seeking truth rather than victory. -As he stands upon the law, and unfolds its dictates, -which are obeyed as soon as known, he has no need to appeal -to passion, and can give his words with all calmness and -certainty.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Under the most absolute monarchy there are always some -things that men are left to settle according to their own -pleasure, and when a number of persons have equal interest -and authority this can only be done by discussion. In our -own land the people bear rule, and the field of deliberation -is almost infinitely widened. City councils, State and national -legislatures, the governing societies of churches, parties, -companies, and all organizations, have more or less of -power to be exercised. If this were vested in a single will, -silent pondering would determine each question, but in assemblies -these must be decided by discussion, argument and vote.<a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c013'><sup>[1]</sup></a></p> - -<div class='footnote' id='f1'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. </span>See rules for these in Appendix.</p> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>There is one general peculiarity that marks the speeches -addressed to such a body; their main object is to give information. -All are about to act, and are supposed to be diligently -looking for the best course to be taken. This secures an -interest in everything that really throws new light on the -subject, while it often renders such an assemblage intolerant -of mere declamation. In representative bodies there is also -constant reference to the opinions and wishes of those for -whom they act.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>Such speeches are frequently intended to be read beyond -the bounds of the audience where they are delivered, and -for this reason are often elaborately prepared, and read at -first. If they do truly give information, either in reference -to principles or facts, they suffer from this less than any -other class of addresses. They may be dry and unattractive -in form, but if each concerned, feels that he is obtaining new -facts for guidance, he will listen with patience. Yet, even -then, a greater impression would be produced if the same -accuracy and sureness of statement were embodied in spoken -words. Let there first, be broad, statesmanlike views, a clear -comprehension of the effects of measures, and perfect confidence -in what we advocate, and then all the graces of speech -may be added with the certainty that their effect will be that -always produced by true eloquence.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A popular address differs from a lecture in having an element -of persuasion in it. In fact, this is its principal characteristic. -When we desire to incline the hearts of the people -to some favorite cause, we assemble them together, and -labor by all the arguments we can command, to induce them -to adopt our views and enter on the course we recommend. -Energy and earnestness are the qualities most uniformly -successful. The people care little for the subtile niceties of -speech, but they require that the man who addresses them -should believe what he says, and feel the power of his own -reasoning. A deep, strong, unfaltering conviction is always -an element of strength.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Many speakers think it an advantage to flatter the prejudices -of the people, but they are mistaken. Temporary -applause may be won, but second thoughts are apt to detect -the lurking insincerity, even if they do not overthrow the -prejudice itself If the speaker be really under the influence -of the same misconception as the audience, this is a different -matter, for hearty devotion, even to the wrong, is contagious. -But calm reasoning and truth are always best. These gave -Abraham Lincoln the superiority over Stephen A. Douglas, -making him more effective with the people than the latter -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>was, not withstanding his fervid eloquence. The one appealed -to the reason of the people, the other to passion.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Humor has a place in the popular address not second to -any other quality. A telling anecdote, or a good illustration -(the homelier the better, if it be not coarse), will arrest attention -and dwell longer on the memory, than the strongest -argument.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Controversial oratory partakes of the nature of a battle, -but should be something more than strife for victory. There -is little danger of languid attention in this species of address, -for opposition arouses both speaker and hearer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The golden rule in all controversies, is to be certain of a -solid basis of fact, and follow the guidance of true principles. -Then we deserve success. But fair means only should -be employed. It is so hard to see an adversary triumph even, -when convinced of the correctness of his position, that we -can scarcely forbear employing every artifice to prevent such -a result. But we should never misrepresent our opponent. -Even if he has been unfortunate in his explanations, and -leaves the way open for a natural misconception, we should -use our best efforts to understand what he really means, and -give him the credit of that. We must also allow his reasoning -its due force. No just argument ought ever to be weakened. -Let us bring forward our views, and, if possible, -show that they are truer and more firmly based than his. -And if we see that this cannot be done, there is only one -manly course left—to surrender at discretion. If we cannot -maintain our views by clear proof, we should abandon them, -and seek others that need no questionable support.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span> - <h2 class='c006'>PART IV.<br /> EMINENT EXTEMPORE SPEAKERS.</h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>AUGUSTINE—LUTHER—CHATHAM—PITT—BURKE—MIRABEAU—PATRICK HENRY—WHITEFIELD—WESLEY—SIDNEY SMITH—F. W. ROBERTSON—CLAY—BASCOM—SUMMERFIELD—SPURGEON—H. W. BEECHER—BINGHAM—GLADSTONE—SIMPSON—WENDELL PHILLIPS—J. P. DURBIN.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span> - <h3 class='c001'>EMINENT SPEAKERS.</h3> -</div> - -<h4 class='c014'>USE OF EXAMPLES.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Notwithstanding the popularity of unwritten speech, -and the innumerable arguments in its favor, there is an impression -in some quarters that the very highest excellence -cannot be attained without the previous use of the pen. It -may be shown that it is more natural to find the words in -which our thoughts are clothed at the moment of expression; -that a stronger and better frame-work of thought can -be constructed, if the mind, in preparing for speech, is occupied -with that alone; that the speaker and hearer may thus -be brought into closer union; that this, in short, is the -order of nature, which leaves the solid frame-work of the -tree standing through many winters, but each spring bestows -its graceful robe of leaves upon that which was prepared -to receive it. But this is not enough to produce -lasting conviction. It is still maintained, almost with -obstinacy, that in the highest fields of oratory, words must -be previously chosen, fitted together, and polished.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This nearly every speech-writer proves from his own experience. -The efforts that have afforded him most satisfaction -were those in which nothing had been left to the chance of -the moment. But it is easy to see how even experience may -mislead in this particular. We can judge the comparative -merits of another in his different modes of address with some -approach to accuracy, for our mental state—that of listeners—continues -the same under them all. But it is different when -we judge ourselves. When we extemporize, our best expressions -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>fade from the mind after they have been given -forth, and can only be recalled by a strong effort. On the -other hand, when we have wrought our language slowly, -and lingered over each sentence, we see all the beauty it -contains, and begin to admire our own production. If we -see anything faulty, instead of lamenting it, as we would an -unfortunate, spoken sentence, we change it, and take credit -for the keenness of our critical taste. Is it wonderful that -when we come before an audience with an address made as -nearly perfect as we can construct it in every line, and the -whole clearly written, or firmly engraved on the memory, -and then repeat it, with a full appreciation of each beauty as -we pass along, that we consider it to be of far higher -merit than the impassioned torrent poured forth on another -occasion, when we scarcely knew that we were using words -at all? If the people do not seem to appreciate it, their want -of taste and culture affords a ready excuse for them, even if -the speaker is not too much occupied with his own eloquence -to notice them at all. He is always ready, too, with the -examples of Massillon and Bossuet, or of Chalmers, to -prove that it was thus the most powerful orators spoke.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We do not deny that great effects may be produced, under -certain circumstances, by committed words. The fact that -many actors have won great fame by repeating the words of -others, proves how much may be done in this direction. It -is but reasonable, that if some gifted minds can thrill an -audience to tears, and rouse every feeling to its highest bent -by merely copying others, that those who, in addition to this -ability, possess the power of framing their own thoughts in -suitable words, may accomplish as much. John B. Gough -is an instance of the power that may be wielded in this manner. -But such men cannot occupy the highest position in -the temple of fame. They are but actors. When they speak -they will be listened to with eagerness and pleasure, as -great performers always are, but it will be as performers -rather than as authorities. They have placed themselves on -a level with those who deal in unreal things, and there -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>they must be content to remain. Doubtless it is more noble -to speak the sentiments and feelings that we once possessed, -in the language adapted to <em>that</em> time, than to deal in those -belonging to another person, but the resemblance between -the two is very close, and the people feel it so acutely that -they make no discrimination.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But we maintain that even in momentary effect—the -quality which is supposed to belong peculiarly to the powerful -declamation of prepared language—extempore speakers -have passed beyond all others; while in power of thought -and lasting influence, there can be no comparison. There is -no single quality of speech that cannot be reached as well -without writing as with it, while perpetual readiness, vast -and profound knowledge (which writing extensively leaves -no time to acquire), and weight and authority with the people, -belong almost exclusively to the extemporizer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>These assertions may seem bold to many, but we are prepared -to substantiate them. In the preceding pages we -have aimed to show how this species of address may be acquired, -and improved to an almost unlimited degree. The -ideal thus sketched is not an impossible or imaginary one. -It has often been attained, and for the encouragement of -those who may be disposed to throw away their manuscripts, -and trust to the method of nature, the following examples -are selected. These are chosen because of their eminence, -and also because of the wide variety of qualities displayed -in their eloquence. Many more might be given, but these -are sufficient for our purpose, which is to show that in every -department of speech the highest eloquence that ever flowed -from the lips of men has clothed itself in unpremeditated -words.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In these sketches we, of course, make no pretension to -originality, but have compiled what was adapted to our -purpose from every available source. And as the matter so -obtained has been frequently abridged, and two or three different -accounts woven together, it has sometimes been impossible -to give full credit. We are under especial obligation to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>the “New American Cyclopedia,” Mosheim’s Church History, -Stevens’s History of Methodism, Harsha’s “Orators and -Statesmen,” “Kidder’s Homiletics,” with the current biographies -of the speakers treated of.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Much of the oratory of antiquity was recited. This has -been used as an argument to prove the comparative inferiority -of that speech which is the offspring of the moment, -forgetting the great difference between ancient and modern -life—a difference arising from the greater diversity of the -latter, and the nobler aims to which it gives birth. The -typical Grecian oration is as much a work of art as a statue. -It was made to be admired, and if, by the beauty of its arrangement, -the melody of its language, and the elegance of -its delivery, this object was achieved, the orator was satisfied. -It was so, to a less degree, in the classic age of Rome. -The form of the oration was of greater importance than its -matter, and it was judged that this would be best perfected -by the use of the pen, and of the memory. Yet the practice -of antiquity on this point was far from uniform. Some -of the noblest orators spoke extempore, and have less fame -than those who adopted the opposite plan, only because at -that time the art of reporting was too imperfect to preserve -their eloquence. The effect they produced remains, and -from it we obtain a faint view of their greatness. Pericles -spoke without previous writing, and the sway his speech -established over his countrymen was more undisputed than -that of Demosthenes. The latter had an assemblage of -talents that, with his tireless industry, would have made -him eminent in any mode of address that he might have -adopted; but even he did not recite exclusively.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The great rival of Cicero, Hortensius, whose wonderful -power excited the emulation of the former, spoke from the -impulse of the moment, as did many of the more eminent of -the Roman orators. Cicero was a man of tireless energy. -He applied himself to the study and practice of eloquence -with a singleness of aim, and a concentration of purpose that -may well command our admiration. He accumulated vast -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>stores of knowledge, perfected his logic, and improved his -voice until it became music, and brought all the resources of -a mighty mind to bear on oratory. It is not wonderful that -he was listened to with profound attention, while he recited -what he had previously composed. But some of his most -brilliant passages were extemporaneous. The outburst that -overwhelmed Catiline when he unexpectedly appeared in the -senate, was coined, at white heat, by the passion of the moment.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The reason why so many of the ancients committed their -speeches, was because they could not be preserved otherwise, -unless the orator could remember and write down -what he had said. Every unwritten speech perished, and -left nothing but a dim memory of the results it had produced. -This is the reason why the extempore speakers -of the ancient world are less known than the reciters. But -the art of short-hand has effected a revolution in this particular, -and the most impassioned speeches are now photographed -for the admiration of future generations. The man -who wishes his speech preserved is no longer compelled to -write it.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>EARLY PREACHING IN THE CHURCH.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>We may be sure that the preaching of Christ and the -Apostles was without notes. It seems scarcely less than -profanation to picture even the latter as reading from a previously -prepared manuscript, after they had been promised -the help of the Spirit in the hour when help was needed; and -it is inconceivable that the Saviour should have taken any -other mode of imparting His wisdom to men, than that of -direct address. Paul deprecated the eloquence of mere -words, although the sketch of his sermon on Mars’ Hill, -with other addresses, shows that he did not neglect the eloquence -of thought, and the strength of orderly, logical -arrangement. We have no direct evidence of the manner of -preaching in the first century, but from all intimations we -are led to conclude that sermons were composed without the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>use of the pen, and consisted of easy, familiar scripture expositions -and deductions of moral lessons. Origen, the most -celebrated divine of the third century, preached without -manuscript, and Eusebius says of him:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“Then, as was to be expected, our religion spreading more -and more, and our brethren beginning to converse more -freely with all, Origen, who they say was now more than -sixty years of age, and who, from long practice, had acquired -great facility in discoursing, permitted his discourses -to be taken down by ready writers, a thing which he had -never allowed before.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>This shows not only that he had been accustomed to -preach extempore, but that he would not permit the sketches -of his sermons which could be made by the imperfect reporting -of that day, to be published until late in life. This -would be very natural, when unstudied explanation was the -main object of the address, but very unnatural if the sermon -had been written according to the rules of rhetorical composition. -In the sermons of Chrysostom there are many -passages which could not, from their nature, have been precomposed, -and these are among the most brilliant of all. -But Augustine, who flourished in the fourth century, affords -us a still more conclusive proof of the power of the natural -mode of address.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>AUGUSTINE.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>The father of this great man was a pagan, but his mother -was a Christian. She was a most remarkable woman, and from -her he doubtless inherited some of the strongest elements of -his character. Her prayers for his conversion were almost -continual, but for many years produced no apparent result. -He plunged into many excesses, and lived a most irregular -life, but from this he was aroused by the death of his father, -and by the study of philosophy. For a time the latter -seemed to satisfy his ardent mind, but soon he saw its insufficiency, -became an earnest searcher for truth, and explored -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>the writings of the sages of antiquity without being -able to find anything on which he could rest. The problems -of life pressed upon him with a terrible weight, and he was -too profound a thinker to be satisfied with any superficial -explanation. The doctrine of the ancient Persians—that of -the two antagonistic principles of good and evil in the world—for -a while charmed his imagination, but its influence over -him soon passed away. During all this time he was rising -in fame as a teacher of rhetoric and eloquence, and had established -a school in Rome which became widely celebrated.</p> - -<p class='c000'>His reputation as a teacher caused him to be summoned to -Milan, where the Emperor then was. The great preacher, -Ambrose, then in the zenith of his power, officiated in that -city. Augustine heard him, and felt that his doubts were -answered. But it required a terrible struggle before he -could yield, and it was only after he had passed the whole -series of Christian doctrines in review, and tested them by -all his mighty power of argument, that he at last reposed in -the truth. The joy of his good mother can scarcely be conceived -at this answer to her unceasing prayer, and she soon -passed away triumphantly. He spent a short period in -seclusion and profound meditation, was then baptized, and -four years after began to preach.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The success of Augustine was as great in preaching as it -had been in teaching, and he was promoted to the office of -Bishop. His power was soon felt all over the Christian -world. He at once entered on a course of labor like that of -Whitefield and Wesley, but still more varied. He preached -once every day, and sometimes twice; visited the sick and -poor with great assiduity; governed his diocese wisely; -was the Christian champion against almost innumerable -forms of heresy all over the world; composed some most -beautiful hymns; wrote extensive commentaries that are -still valued; kept up a vast correspondence with emperors, -kings, and church dignitaries everywhere; and indited works -of theology, literature, criticism, and philosophy in immense -profusion. Some of these will live as long as the language -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>in which they are written is known. For thirty-five years -he remained at his post, and died at last, while his city was -beleagured by a barbarian army, in time to escape witnessing -the ruin that burst on the flock he had so long loved and -served.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The power of Augustine as a preacher can scarcely be -overrated. Everywhere the people flocked to hear him, and -the most enduring fruits followed his ministry. His sermons -were not calculated simply to win admiration for the -preacher, but pointed to the holier life, and led men to love -and strive after it. He was the real founder of what is -known at the present day as Calvinism, and by his vast -power made it the prevailing doctrine of the church for centuries -after his death. There can be no question about his -sincerity and earnestness, and just as little regarding the -influence of his solemn eloquence. He quieted tumults, -changed the opinions of whole towns, and wielded assemblies -at his will. He left a large number of sermons in a -fragmentary condition, but fully justifying all that his contemporaries -have written of him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is not possible that such a man should have read or -recited his discourses. To have done so would have left -him no time for such grand works as the “Confessions,” -“City of God,” and others too numerous to mention, which -will endure while the world stands. But he has not left us -in doubt as to his mode of preaching. He enjoins the -“Christian teacher” to make his hearers comprehend what -he says, “to read in the eyes and countenances of his auditors -whether they understand him or not, and to repeat the -same thing by giving it different terms, till he perceives that -it is understood, an advantage which those cannot have who, -by a servile dependence on their memories, learn their sermons -by heart, and repeat them as so many lessons. Let -not the preacher become the servant of words; rather let -words be servants to the preacher.” In his charity, however, -he does allow of reciting under certain circumstances. -“Those who are destitute of invention, but can -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>speak well, provided they select well written discussions of -another man and commit them to memory for the instruction -of their hearers, will not do badly if they take this -course.”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>LUTHER.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>The name of Luther is so well known that it will not be -necessary to give more than a very brief sketch of his wonderful -life. The peasant, who was raised by his virtues -to more than kingly power, and to be the leader of the greatest -religious movement of modern times, cannot be a stranger -to the world. Luther was bred in the midst of poverty and -almost of want. As he grew older, his father, who was a -kind-hearted, though stern man, began to rise in the world, -and found means to send him to school. The patronage of -a wealthy lady named Cotta, was also of great benefit to -him. He was distinguished very early for quickness and -profundity of intellect, and the highest hopes were formed -of him. But in the midst of flattering prospects, he was -deeply convicted of sin, and terrified concerning his spiritual -state. After he had spent a long time in mental struggles, -full of agony, he resolved to become a monk, as the surest -way of allaying all doubt, and obtaining the spiritual rest -for which he longed. His father never forgave this step, until -his son stood in direct opposition to the power of Rome. -But the ardent heart of Luther could not find peace in the -dull routine of a convent life, and every spiritual trial was -redoubled. At last, while he was reading in an old copy of -the Bible, which he had found in the library of the convent, -the great doctrine of justification by faith dawned upon -him with all the freshness of a new revelation. He at once -began to teach the people the same blessed doctrine, with -the most gratifying results. His preaching was marked by -great power, and soon his sphere widened. He was made a -doctor of divinity in the University of Wittenberg, and -began to lecture on Paul’s Epistles, and the Psalms. He -was still a devoted adherent of Rome, although he taught -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>the students under his care to look to the Scriptures as the -fountain of all authority. But the germs of the Reformation -were already hid in his own mind, and it only required -circumstances to bring them into vigorous life.</p> - -<p class='c000'>These were soon supplied. When a monk came to Wittenberg, -selling pardons for every kind of sin, even that -which was to be committed, Luther felt it his duty to warn -the people against any dependence on such sources of forgiveness. -The Pope took part with the monk in the strife -that followed; and the contest went from one point to another, -until the Pope hurled a decree of excommunication at -Luther, which he burned, in the presence of his adherents, -as a token of defiance and contempt. The reformation spread -wonderfully, and although surrounded on every side by -threatenings and enemies, the life of this great man was -spared, and for years he exerted an influence in Germany -not second to that of the Emperor himself. When he fell at -last, in the midst of his labors, the people mourned for him -as for a personal benefactor.</p> - -<p class='c000'>All through his life, Luther had the secret of reaching the -hearts of the people in a wonderful manner. No other of the -great men who abounded at that time possessed a tithe of -his power in this respect. It has been said “that his words -were half battles.” His discourses were not smooth or -graceful, yet it was not for want of ability to secure these -qualities, for he had great command of every style of language, -and loved softer and more ornamented speech in -others; but he was too much in earnest, with an empire, and -the vastest hierarchy the world ever saw, arrayed against -him, to stay to use them. Whenever he preached the people -would flock together from great distances, and listen as -to a prophet, while he unfolded the grand and simple plan of -salvation in the plainest words. He had every element of a -great preacher. His imagination was most vivid, and he did -not fail to use it to the utmost. He could paint a scene in -all the completeness of action before his hearers, and awaken -their tears or smiles at his will. He used no manuscript, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>spoke from the vast fulness of knowledge he possessed on -every subject. His pen was employed as well as his voice. -By it he not only produced a great number of books that -advanced the cause of the Reformation almost as much as his -spoken efforts, but by the combination of the two methods -of expression, writing to meet the eye and speaking for the -ear, he taught himself both accuracy and readiness, and was -thus prepared for the part he was called upon to act. Added -to these, were his strong emotions, and indomitable will, -which gave him an energy that bore every thing before him. -For beauty and grace in themselves he cared nothing, but -when they came unbidden, as they often did, they were welcome. -He rightly estimated his own character and work -when he said “that he was rough, boisterous, stormy, and -altogether warlike; born to fight innumerable devils and -monsters, to remove stumps and stones, to cut down thistles -and thorns, and to clear the wild woods.”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>LORD CHATHAM.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>It may well be doubted whether the eloquence of this -great and wonderful man did not surpass that of either Cicero -or Demosthenes. It is certain that the effects he repeatedly -produced have never been surpassed. And he had -not to deal with a populace easily moved, although cultivated -in some particulars, as they had; but his mightiest -triumphs were won in the British Parliament, from an acute, -critical, and often hostile assembly. His example, with that -of his son, who was almost equally great, afford an irrefutable -answer to those who doubt the capacity of unwritten -speech to convey impressions as mighty as any ever produced -by man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He was born in 1708, and was educated at Oxford, quitting -it without a degree, but with a brilliant reputation. -Soon after he entered Parliament, and gained such power -that he was shortly advanced to the office of Prime Minister. -This was in the reign of George II. and at the opening -of the Seven Years War, by which England won the province -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>of Canada, and became the most powerful empire in the -world. But when he took the reins of government it was -far different. The armies of the nation had been beaten in -every quarter, and the people were almost in despair. But -he infused new spirit into them, and by his energy and farsighted -combinations, won the most glorious series of triumphs -that ever crowned the arms of England. His fame -did not cease when he left the ministry, and, in America at -least, he is best known for his friendly words to us during the -revolutionary war. He opposed with all the strength of his -wondrous eloquence the oppressive measures that provoked -the colonists to revolution. Yet there was no element of -fear or compromise in his disposition. He only opposed the -ministry in their government of our country because he believed -their measures to be unjust. But when, after seven -years of defeat and disaster, the body of the nation became -convinced that the Americans never could be conquered, and -the proposition was made to recognize their independence, -Chatham fought against the accomplishment of the separation -with all his vigor. He made his last speech on this -subject, and while the house was still under the solemn awe -that followed his address, he was stricken down by apoplexy -and borne home to die.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have little upon which to base an estimate of this -almost unequalled orator, save the effect he produced upon -his contemporaries. Nothing has been preserved of his -speeches, but a few passages that stamped themselves indelibly -upon the minds of his hearers. Yet through his eloquence, -backed by his strong will, he was for many years -virtually dictator of England, and even when most alone, -scarcely any one dared to meet him in debate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Many curious instances are given of the uncontrolled ascendency -he obtained over the House of Commons. His -most celebrated rival was Murray, Earl of Mansfield, who -had just been promoted to the office of Attorney-General, -when the incident narrated below occurred. Chatham made -a speech, really intended to overwhelm Murray, but on a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>totally different subject. Fox says “every word was <span class='sc'>Murray</span>, -yet so managed that neither he nor anybody else could -take public notice of it or in any way reprehend him. I sat -near Murray, who <em>suffered</em> for an hour. At its close he used -an expression that at once became proverbial.” After the -unhappy Attorney had writhed for a time, and endured the -terrible, but indirect, satire of Chatham until endurance was -scarcely possible any longer, the latter stopped, threw his -piercing eyes around as if in search of something, then fixing -their whole force on his victim, exclaimed, “I must now -address a few words to Mr. Attorney; they shall be few, but -they shall be daggers!” Murray was agitated; the look -was continued, and the agitation became so uncontrollable -as to be noticed by the whole house. “<em>Felix trembles</em>,” -roared Chatham, in a voice of thunder, “<em>he shall hear me some -other day</em>.” Murray was too completely stricken to attempt -a reply.</p> - -<p class='c000'>On another occasion, having finished a speech, he walked -out of the house with a slow step, being at the time an habitual -invalid. There was a profound silence until he was -passing through the door. Then a member started up, saying, -“Mr. Speaker, I rise to reply to the right honorable -gentleman.” Chatham caught the sound, turned back, and -fixed his eye on the orator, who instantly sat down. He -then walked slowly to his seat, repeating in Latin, as he -hobbled along, the lines from Virgil, in which is described -the terror of the Grecian ghosts when Æneas entered the -dark realm:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“The Grecian chiefs....</div> - <div class='line'>When they beheld the <span class='fss'>MAN</span> with shining arms</div> - <div class='line'>Amid those shades, trembled with sodden fear,</div> - <div class='line'>... and raised</div> - <div class='line'>A feeble outcry; but the sound commenced,</div> - <div class='line'><em>Died on their gurgling lips</em>.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Reaching his seat, he exclaimed in a tone that terrified the -whole house, “Now let me hear what the honorable gentleman -has to say to me.” There was no response, and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>whole body was too much awed to laugh at the situation -of the poor orator.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Yet he did not deal in the terrible and overpowering all -the time. In a most eloquent speech in opposition to a -measure that he believed violated the sanctity of the English -home, he gave the following description of that privilege -which is justly the proudest boast of an Englishman. -A single passage is all that remains, but it will not soon -be forgotten:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“The poorest man may in his cottage bid defiance to all -the forces of the Crown. It may be frail—its roof may -shake—the wind may blow through it—the storm may -enter—the rain may enter—but the King of England cannot -enter!—all his forces dare not cross the threshold of -the ruined tenement!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Lord Macaulay, who was in no sense friendly to the great -orator, gives him a glowing eulogy:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“His figure, when he first appeared in Parliament, was -strikingly graceful and commanding, his features high and -noble, his eye full of fire. His voice, even when it sank to -a whisper, was heard to the remotest benches; when he -strained it to its full extent, the sound rose like the swell of -the organ of a great cathedral, shook the house with its -peal, and was heard through lobbies, and down staircases, -to the Court of Requests, and the precincts of Westminster -Hall. He cultivated all these eminent advantages with the -most assiduous care. His action is described by a very malignant -observer as equal to that of Garrick. His play of -countenance was wonderful; he frequently disconcerted a -hostile orator by a single glance of indignation or scorn. -Every tone, from the impassioned cry to the thrilling aside, -was perfectly at his command.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He was a truly extemporaneous speaker, and seldom -attempted any other style. When he did he failed. His -memory was strong and retentive, and his mind so fully -stored with information on every subject that he was always -ready for debate. Some of his grandest efforts were called -forth by an unexpected circumstance, or a single glance of -his eye. Once, while replying to Suffolk, he caught a view -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>of the tapestry on which was painted some of the achievements -of the ancestors of that lord, and instantly seized the -hint it conveyed and gave expression to one of the noblest -bursts of eloquence in any language. One of his contemporaries -says:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“When without forethought or any other preparation than -those talents nature had supplied, and education cultivated, -Chatham rose—stirred to anger by some sudden subterfuge -of corruption, or device of tyranny—then was heard an eloquence -never surpassed either in ancient or modern times. -It was the highest power of expression ministering to the -highest power of thought.”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>WILLIAM PITT.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>The manner in which the younger Pitt succeeded to the -talents and position of the elder is one of the most wonderful -things in history. His father trained him from his infancy -in the models which he himself had imitated so successfully. -Some of these means of improvement, which at -least assisted in producing the peculiar character of the -eloquence of father and son, are worthy of our attention. -They both translated from the best classical authors, committed -to memory choice passages from the poets, and -prose writers they valued, thus acquiring great command -of words. With such previous training, it would have been -useless for them to write even in their most elaborate efforts.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the younger Pitt had finished the traditional college -course and was admitted to the bar, he also entered Parliament, -being then only twenty-three years of age. He delivered -his first speech, which was entirely unpremeditated, -only about a month afterward. It took the house by storm. -In the midst of that brilliant assembly, accustomed to the -eloquence of Fox, Burke, and others worthy of any age, there -was a universal burst of enthusiastic admiration. When -some one remarked, “Pitt promises to be one of the first -speakers ever heard in Parliament,” Fox replied, “<em>He is so -already.</em>”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>When only twenty-four years of age he was made Prime -Minister, and held the post for seventeen years. Although -there is room for a wide difference of opinion regarding many -of his acts during this time, there is none concerning his -ability. Among other reforms that he advocated was the -abolition of the slave trade. He made a speech on this subject -that is still celebrated. Wilberforce said that “for the -last twenty minutes he really seemed to be inspired.” Windham -declares “that he walked home lost in amazement at the -compass, until then unknown to him, of human eloquence.” -Pitt died at the comparatively early age of forty-seven, holding -the highest office in the gift of his country.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Brougham gives a glowing account of his power as an orator. -“He is to be placed without any doubt in the highest -class. With a sparing use of ornament, hardly indulging -more in figures, or even in figurative expression, than the -most severe examples of ancient chasteness allowed—with -little variety of style, hardly any of the graces of manner—he -no sooner rose than he carried away every hearer, and -kept the attention fixed and unflagging until it pleased him -to let it go; and then</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“’So charming left his voice that we awhile</div> - <div class='line'>Still thought him speaking, still stood fixed to hear.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>“This magical effect was produced by his unbroken flow, -which never for a moment left the hearer in pain or doubt, -and yet was not the mean fluency of mere relaxation, requiring -no effort of the speaker, but imposing on the listener a -heavy task; by his lucid arrangement, which made all parts -of the most complicated subject quit their entanglement and -fall each in its place; by the clearness of his statements -which presented a picture to the mind; by the forcible -appeals to strict reason and strong feeling which formed the -great staple of the discourse; by the majesty of the diction; -by the depth and fullness of the most sonorous voice and -the unbending dignity of the manner, which ever reminded -us that we were in the presence of more than the mere advocate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>and debater, that there stood before us a ruler of the -people. Such were the effects invariably of this singular -eloquence; nor did anything, in any mood of mind, ever -drop from him that was unsuited to the majestic frame of -the whole, or could disturb the serenity of the full and -copious flood that rolled along.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Macaulay says: “At his first appearance in Parliament -he showed himself superior to all his contemporaries in command -of language. He could pour out a long succession of -round and stately periods, without ever pausing for a word, -without ever repeating a word, in a voice of silver clearness, -and with a pronunciation so articulate that not a letter was -slurred over.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>These men, father and son, were never excelled in debate. -They were always ready. Every advantage that the occasion -allowed was taken at the time, and the favorable moment -never went by while they were preparing. They each -attained a power they never would have possessed had it -been necessary for them to use manuscript or depend on -their memory. The time others have wasted in writing special -orations, they employed in such wide culture, and in -accumulating such vast stores of knowledge, that they were -always ready. They were able to come to great intellectual -contests with their minds fresh and un-fagged by previous -composition.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But it may be said that with all their power they were -destitute of polish and beauty. In such fragments of their -speeches as have been preserved, it is true that gracefulness -is less conspicuous than force, and the opponent of unwritten -speech may imagine that this is a necessary consequence of -the manner in which they spoke. The advantage they gained -was worth the cost, even if this lack of the finer and more -elegant qualities of speech was inevitable. But that this -does not necessarily result from extempore speech, is -abundantly proved by the example of their great rival—</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span> - <h4 class='c014'>EDMUND BURKE.</h4> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>This prince of imaginative orators was an Irishman. He -was born in 1730, and graduated in Dublin University at -the age of twenty. For a short time afterward he studied -law, but soon grew weary of it and turned his attention to -philosophy and literature. The productions of his pen -speedily won an enviable reputation. A “Vindication of -Natural Society” was speedily followed by the celebrated -“Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>His appearance in Parliament, the great arena of British -eloquence, was comparatively late in life, but as soon as -elected he gave promise of the great brilliancy he afterward -displayed. For more than thirty years he had no superior -in that august body, and scarcely an equal. He stood side -by side with Pitt in defence of America, and endeared himself -to every lover of liberty in both hemispheres. The -great impeachment of Warren Hastings was mainly brought -about by his influence, and afforded room for all his powers. -The war with France was the last great theme upon which -his eloquence was employed, and in it his strongly conservative -views alienated him from most of his former friends.</p> - -<p class='c000'>During all this time his eloquence was a wonder both to -friend and foe, and in its own style was never equalled in -the House of Commons, or in the world. His speech on the -impeaching of Warren Hastings, made at the bar of the -House of Lords, was an unparalleled effort. It extended over -a period of four days, and bore everything before it. On the -third day of this great speech, he described the cruelties -inflicted on some of the natives of India by one of Hastings’s -agents, with such vividness that one convulsive shudder ran -through the whole assemblage, while the speaker was so -much affected by the picture he had penciled, that he dropped -his head upon his hands, and was for some moments unable -to proceed. Some, who were present, fell into a swoon, -while even Hastings himself, who disclaimed all responsibility -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>for these things, was overwhelmed. In speaking of -the matter afterwards he says: “For half an hour I looked -upon the orator in a revery of wonder, and actually felt myself -to be the most culpable man on earth.” Lord Thurlow, -who was present, declares that long after, many who were -present had not recovered from the shock, and probably -never would.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Soon after, the great speech of Sheridan was delivered. -Like Burke’s, it was extempore, and no report of it, worthy -the name, remains. It was only inferior to the mighty effort -that preceded it. A clergyman who came to the house -strongly prepossessed in favor of Hastings, said at the close -of the first hour, to a friend who sat by him, “This is mere -declamation without proof.” When another hour had passed, -he remarked, “This is a wonderful oration.” Another hour -went by, and again he spoke: “Warren Hastings certainly -acted unjustifiably.” At the end of the fourth hour he said: -“Hastings is an atrocious criminal.” When the speech -closed at the end of the fifth hour, he vehemently declared, -“Of all monsters of iniquity, Warren Hastings is certainly -the most enormous.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>For seven long years this unprecedented trial went on. -More than one-third of those who sat on the judge’s bench -when it began were in their graves. When, at last it drew -to a close, Burke made to the Lords a closing charge worthy -of his genius:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“My Lords,” said he, “I have done! The part of the -Commons is concluded! With a trembling hand we consign -the product of these long, <em>long</em> labors to your charge. -<em>Take it! Take it!</em> It is a sacred trust! Never before was -a cause of such magnitude submitted to any human tribunal.... -My Lords, it has pleased Providence to place us in -such a stage that we appear every moment to be on the -verge of some great mutation. There is one thing, and one -thing only that defies mutation—that which existed before -the world itself. I mean <span class='fss'>JUSTICE</span>; that justice which, emanating -from the Divinity, has a place in the breast of every -one of us, given us for our guide with regard to ourselves -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>and with regard to others; and which will stand after this -globe is burned to ashes, our advocate or our accuser before -our great Judge, when He comes to call upon us for the -tenor of a well spent life.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The effect of this speech upon the auditory was such that -it was only after some time had elapsed, and after repeated -efforts, that Fox, himself a giant in eloquence, could obtain -a hearing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The character of Burke’s eloquence is well summed up in -the following account, given by Wraxall, one of his contemporaries:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“Nature had bestowed on him a boundless imagination, -aided by a memory of equal strength and tenacity. His -fancy was so vivid that it seemed to light up by its own -powers, and to burn without consuming the aliment on which -it fed: sometimes bearing him away into ideal scenes created -by his own exuberant mind, but from which he, sooner -or later, returned to the subject of debate; descending from -his most aerial flights, by a gentle and imperceptible gradation, -till he again touched the ground. Learning waited on -him like a handmaid, presenting to his choice all that antiquity -has culled or invented, most elucidatory of the topic -under discussion. He always seemed to be oppressed under -the load and variety of his intellectual treasures. Every -power of oratory was wielded by him in its turn; for he -could be, during the same evening, often within the space of -a few minutes, pathetic and humorous; acrimonious and -conciliating; now giving loose to his indignation or severity; -and then, almost in the same breath, calling to his assistance -wit and ridicule. It would be endless to cite instances -of this versatility of his disposition, and of the rapidity of -his transitions,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘From grave to gay, from lively to severe,’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>that I have, myself, witnessed. . . . What he was in -public he was in private; like the star which now precedes -and now follows the sun, he was equally brilliant whether -he</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Flamed in the forehead of the morning sky,’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>or led on with a milder luster the modest hosts of evening.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>A Frenchman gives a graphic description of one of his -speeches. At first he was disappointed in his appearance.</p> - -<p class='c016'>“I certainly did not expect to find him in the British Parliament -dressed in the ancient toga; nor was I prepared to see -him in a tight brown coat, which seemed to impede every -movement, and above all, the little hat-wig with curls. . . . -He moved into the middle of the house contrary to the usual -practice, for the members speak standing and uncovered, not -leaving their places. But Mr. Burke, with the most natural -air imaginable, with seeming humility, and with folded arms, -began his speech in so low a tone of voice that I could -scarcely hear him. Soon after, however, becoming animated -by degrees, he described religion attacked, the bonds of -subordination broken, civil society threatened to its foundation.... -When in the course of this grand sketch, (to -show that England could depend only on herself,) he mentioned -Spain, that immense monarchy, which appeared to -have fallen into a total lethargy: ‘What can we expect,’ -said he, ‘from her?—mighty indeed, but unwieldy—vast in -bulk, but inert in spirit—<em>a whale stranded upon the sea shore -of Europe</em>.’ The whole House was silent; every mind was -fixed; ... never was the electric power of eloquence -more imperiously felt. I have witnessed many, too many -political assemblages and striking scenes where eloquence -performed a noble part, but the whole of them appear insipid -when compared with this amazing effort.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Burke was an extemporaneous speaker in the sense we -have used the word in the preceding pages. He thought -over the ideas of his speech as fully as his time permitted, -and when he spoke, threw them into the language of the -moment. At the conclusion of one of his speeches on the -American question, his friends crowded around and urged him -to write what he had said for the benefit of the world. He did -so then, and also on five other occasions. Of the hundreds -of other speeches he delivered only broken and imperfect -fragments remain.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Burke exerted himself in conversation, and thus improved -his powers of language in the method we have -recommended. Dr. Johnson says of him in his oracular -way:</p> - -<p class='c016'><span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>“Burke is an extraordinary man. His stream of talk -is perpetual; and he does not talk from any desire of distinction, -but because his mind is full. He is the <em>only</em> man -whose common conversation corresponds with the general -fame he has in the world. Take him up where you please, -he is ready to meet you. No man of sense could meet him -by accident under a gateway to avoid a shower without -being convinced that he was the first man in England.”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>MIRABEAU.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>The career of Mirabeau more resembles a strange romance -than a sober history. He was of a good family, but during -his childhood and early manhood his father treated him like -a brute. His very appearance was peculiar. His head was -of enormous size, his body so much misshapen that his father, -who persecuted him for his deformity, declared that he -looked more like a monster than a human being. The whole -of his early life presents a picture of dreariness and misery -exceeding that of almost any other man who has risen to -greatness. Several times he was imprisoned—once for three -years and a half—by order of his unnatural parent. Finally -he began to use his pen, and soon won general admiration. -His father, having failed to crush him, now became reconciled, -and allowed him to assume the family name, which he -had not permitted before. By this time he had a wide -experience of vice, and was deeply in debt. His struggles -for several years were still severe.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But at length the great revolution came, and he found his -true element. The powers of speech which had already been -displayed to a limited extent, were now exercised in a noble -field. The people soon recognized in him the qualities necessary -for a leader, and elected him to the General Assembly -of France. Here he was feared and respected by all. -He had no party to support him, but worked alone, and -often by the mere force of his genius bent the Assembly to -his will. During his whole career there, he was not an extremist, -and for a time before his death was engaged in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>upholding the crown and the cause of constitutional government -against the party of anarchy and death. This lost him -his unbounded popularity with the fickle populace of Paris, -and they began to shout for his blood. He was charged in -the Assembly with corruption, and treason to the cause of -liberty. This only prepared the way for his triumph. The -very tree was marked on which he was to be hung. But he -did not quail before the storm. When he reached the hall, -he found himself in the midst of determined enemies already -drunk with blood, and with no friend who dared to speak on -his behalf. But the mere force of eloquence prevailed. He -spoke in words of such power that the noisy multitude was -stilled, and the tide turned.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After this triumph he took part in every measure, and -was really the guiding power of the state. The king leaned -on him as the only stay of his reign, and the moderate of -every party began to look to him as the hope of France. -Sometimes he spoke five times in one day, and at the sound -of his magical voice the anarchical Assembly was hushed into -reverence and submission. But his exertions were beyond -his strength. At last he was prostrated. Every hour the -king sent to enquire of his health, and bulletins of his state -were posted in the streets. It seemed as if the destiny of -France was to be decided in his sick chamber. He died, and -the whole nation mourned, as well it might, for no other -hand than his could hold back the reign of terror. It is -indeed a problem whether that terrible tragedy would not -have been prevented, if he had but lived a few months longer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Some of the speeches of this remarkable man were recited, -but in these he never attained his full power. A French -writer well describes him:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mirabeau in the tribune was the most imposing of orators, -an orator so consummate, that it is harder to say what -he wanted than<a id='t155'></a> what he possessed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mirabeau had a massive and square obesity of figure, -thick lips, a forehead broad, bony, prominent; arched eyebrows, -an eagle eye, cheeks flat, and somewhat fleshy, features -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>full of pock holes and blotches, a voice of thunder, an -enormous mass of hair, and the face of a lion.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“His manner as an orator is that of the great masters of -antiquity, with an admirable energy of gesture, and a vehemence -of diction which perhaps they had never reached.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mirabeau in his premeditated discourses was admirable. -But what was he not in his extemporaneous effusions? His -natural vehemence, of which he repressed the flights in his -prepared speeches, broke down all barriers in his improvisations. -A sort of nervous irritability gave then to his whole -frame an almost preternatural animation and life. His breast -dilated with an impetuous breathing. His lion face became -wrinkled and contorted. His eyes shot forth flame. He -roared, he stamped, he shook the fierce mass of his hair, all -whitened with foam; he trod the tribune with the supreme -authority of a master, and the imperial air of a king. What -an interesting spectacle to behold him, momently, erect and -exalt himself under the pressure of obstacle! To see him -display the pride of his commanding brow! To see him, -like the ancient orator, when, with all the power of his unchained -eloquence, he was wont to sway, to and fro in the -Forum, the agitated waves of the Roman multitude. Then -would he throw by the measured notes of his declamation, -habitually grave and solemn. Then would escape him broken -exclamations, tones of thunder, and accents of heartrending -and terrible pathos. He concealed with the flash and color -of his rhetoric, the sinewy arguments of his dialectics. He -transported the Assembly, because himself transported. -And yet—so extraordinary was his force—he abandoned -himself to the torrent of his eloquence, without wandering -from his course; he mastered others by its sovereign sway, -without losing for an instant his own self-control.”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>PATRICK HENRY.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>The fame of this great man cannot soon be surpassed. -He not only produced a great impression at the time he -spoke, but had an agency, by his eloquent words, in bringing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>about the most important changes. He was more than -the mouthpiece of the American Revolution. He not merely -interpreted the feelings of the mass of the nation to itself, -but in a large degree originated the enthusiasm that led -them through war to independence. It is certain that the -aristocratic and powerful colony of Virginia would have -occupied a far different place in the struggle for liberty, if it -had been deprived of his almost irresistible influence. It is -hard to speculate on what might have been the result if -temporizing measures had carried the day, and the union of -the colonies been interfered with by want of cordial sympathy. -The political wisdom of Franklin, and the military -skill and constancy of Washington, did not contribute more -to final success than the bold councils and fervent utterances -of the country lawyer who is the subject of our sketch.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Patrick Henry was born in Hanover county, Virginia, in -May, 1736. In childhood he acquired the common elements -of education, and some knowledge of Latin and mathematics, -and was not the ignorant youth that some of his admirers -delight in representing him. But he was exceedingly -fond of hunting and fishing, and would often spend the -hours in this way, that might have been devoted to more -useful employment. But he became a great day dreamer, -thus at once revealing and exercising the unbounded imagination -he possessed. He loved to wander alone, that he -might give full play to the visions and reveries that floated -through his brain.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When about fourteen, he heard the celebrated Presbyterian -minister, Samuel Davies. His eloquence was the most -powerful that Henry had hitherto enjoyed, and awakened in -him a spirit of emulation. All his life Henry delighted to -do him honor, and attributed the bent of his own mind to -oratory and a large measure of his success to this man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In business, the future statesman was uniformly most unsuccessful. -He twice failed as a storekeeper, and once as a farmer. -But all this time he was really studying for his future profession. -He was fond of talk, and by indulging in it freely -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>doubtless improved his power of language. He would relate -long stories, and do it so well that those who thronged -his counter took as little note of time as he did, and yielded -their hearts as fully to him as larger audiences did afterward.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As a last resort he studied law, but for a time his success -was no better in this than in his previous occupations. But -after two or three years, during which he lived without -practice, and in a dependent condition, he was retained in -what seemed merely a nominal capacity—as defendant in -the noted “Parsons case.” The preachers of the established -church were paid so many pounds of tobacco per annum. -But when the price arose, in a time of scarcity, the Legislature -passed an act allowing all persons to pay their assessment -in money at the rate of 2d per pound, which was much -less than it was worth at that time. After an interval this -law was declared void by the king and his council. Then -the clergy instituted suit to recover what they had lost during -the time the act was enforced. There was no doubt of -the legality of their claim, although more of its intrinsic -rightfulness, and the law question was decided in a test case, -almost without controversy. This really surrendered the -whole matter, and the only issue then was as to the amount -of damage they had sustained—a very plain question, apparently -affording no room for argument by the defense.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A vast array of the clergy were present, and on the bench -was Henry’s own father. No circumstances could be imagined -more unfavorable for the maiden speech of a young -lawyer. The case for the plaintiff was clearly and forcibly -stated by a leading member of the bar, and Henry began his -reply. It is no wonder that he faltered, and that his sentences -were awkward and confused. The people, who were -present in great numbers, and who were intensely hostile to -the preachers, hung their heads, and gave up the contest. -The father of the speaker was shame-faced and dismayed. -The preachers smiled in derision, and exchanged congratulatory -glances. But it was too soon. The power of eloquence -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>began to assert itself. The strong mind of Henry -mastered all embarrassment, and was brought to bear, with -irresistible force, upon his subject, and upon those around. -All eyes were drawn to the almost unknown speaker. His -rusticity of manner had disappeared; his form became erect, -and his piercing eyes shot forth lightning. “A mysterious -and almost supernatural transformation of appearance” -passed over him. Every pulse beat responsive to his, and -throbbed with his own mighty indignation. He turned his -withering invective upon the clergy, speaking of their greediness, -oppression, and meanness, until they fled from the -court. Spectators say that their blood ran cold and their -hair stood on end! When he concluded, the jury in an instant -brought judgment for one penny damages! a new trial -was refused, and the young but unparalleled orator was borne -away in triumph by the shouting multitude.</p> - -<p class='c000'>His first appearance in the house of Burgesses was not -less brilliant, and far more important in its results. The -majority of the Assembly seemed to be bent on new petitions -and remonstrances against the oppression of England, when -Henry introduced his celebrated resolutions, declaring in -plain phrases that the acts complained of were unconstitutional -and void. This, which was little short of a declaration -of war, was received, even by well-meaning patriots, -with a storm of opposition. A most bitter debate followed. -Henry at first stood almost alone, with the wealth and talent -of the Assembly arrayed against him. But his clear conviction, -determined will, and powerful eloquence turned the -scale, and the resolutions passed, committing Virginia to the -cause of resistance.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Henry attended the first Congress he found an -array of men, whose fame was already becoming world-wide. -But he soon won his way to the very highest rank among -them, and maintained it to the close. His extraordinary -eloquence excited the same astonishment on this broader field, -as in the seclusion of the Virginia hills. It was “Shakespeare -and Garrick combined.” When he took his seat after -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>his opening speech, the first speech that had broken the -silence of the great assembly, there was no longer a doubt -that he was the greatest orator in America, and probably in -the world. This pre-eminence he maintained all through the -exciting struggle. His voice was ever like an inspiration, -and the people looked up to him almost as a prophet.</p> - -<p class='c000'>His vast power remained until the close of his life. The -last great speech, made in a contest with John Randolph, -when he was nearly seventy years of age, and only three -months before his death, was equal to any of his former -efforts. “The sun had set in all its glory.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>These few sketches will sufficiently illustrate the eloquence -of this wonderful man. It only remains to state what is -known in regard to his methods of preparation. He never -wrote. His mightiest efforts were made in situations where -the use of the pen would have been impossible. The Virginia -resolutions were written on a blank leaf in a law book, -and during the whole of the terrible debate which followed, -he was ever ready, and mastered all opponents. He thought -much, but wrote little. He spoke only on great occasions, -while in political life, but gave attention to all that was -passing, and by keen observation learned the characters of -those upon whose minds he wrought. Thus he was prepared -to drive every word home to its mark. He was a great student -of history, and this knowledge doubtless contributed -very greatly to the clearness and precision of his views upon -the great struggle in which the country was engaged, as -well as gave him an ample fund of illustration in his speeches. -Study of character and of history, cultivation of the power -of narration and of language, seem to have been the means -by which his wonderful natural genius was fitted for its -triumphs.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>GEORGE WHITEFIELD.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Few men of any age have been instrumental in accomplishing -more good than the subject of our present sketch. -Without deep logical powers, and with little claim to originality -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>of thought, he chained vast multitudes by his eloquence, -and was one of the foremost actors in a mighty -religious movement.</p> - -<p class='c000'>None of the converts Whitefield gathered into the church -ever passed through a more strongly marked experience in -personal religion than he did. The agony of conviction he -underwent was terrible, and he struggled long and desperately -before he obtained peace. “God only knows,” he -exclaims, “how many nights I have lain upon my bed groaning -under what I felt. Whole days and weeks have I spent -in lying prostrate on the ground, in silent or vocal prayer.” -His mind almost failed under the violence of his mental conflicts, -and he endeavored, by wearing the meanest apparel, -and almost continual fasting, and many works of self-mortification -to find relief. But all this was in vain. We see in -it an indication of the terrible earnestness and sincerity of -the man—qualities which never passed away from him. -These months of vivid emotion affected his whole life, and -imparted an intensity to his pictures of sin, and a vividness -to his realization of its horrors, that he never would have -had otherwise.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At last his health gave way beneath the pressure of his -spiritual trials, and he fell into a long sickness. At the end -of seven weeks he found peace, and his raptures became as -great as the horrors of conscience had been. “But oh! with -what joy, joy unspeakable, even joy that was full of glory, -was my soul filled, when the weight of sin went off, and an -abiding sense of the love of God and a full assurance of -faith broke in upon my disconsolate soul.” This rapturous -experience continued with few interruptions through life, -and really formed the spring of his wonderful exertions. -For thirty-four years his soul glowed in all the fervors that -he had experienced at his first conversion, and he put forth -his great strength in unwearied efforts to bring others to the -same blessed enjoyment.</p> - -<p class='c000'>His career opened with wonderful brilliancy. The first -sermon preached after his ordination as deacon, was said to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>“have driven fifteen persons mad,”—a kind of madness that -soon became common in England. Everywhere the people -flocked to hear him in crowds, and soon no church would -contain the multitude, even when they were opened for him. -Once, when preaching with “great freedom of heart and -clearness of voice,” with thousands of persons standing outside -of the church, after hundreds had gone away for want -of room, he was struck with the thought of preaching the -word in the open air. Friends discouraged, but the die was -soon cast, and from that time forward his mightiest triumphs -were won in imitation of his Master, “who had a mountain -for His pulpit, and the heavens for a sounding board!” This -was the proper theater for the display of his wonderful -power, and his spirit felt the beauty and grandeur of the -scene. Sometimes as many as twenty thousand people were -gathered together.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The theater of his most marvelous triumphs was at Moorfields -during the Whitsun holidays. The lowest class of -London population was then poured forth, and the most -riotous scenes enacted. He resolved to begin early, in order -to secure the field before the greatest rush of the crowd. -Ten thousand people were gathered impatiently waiting for -the sports of the day. “He had for once got the start of -the devil,” and soon drew the multitude around him. At -noon he tried again. The odds against him were greater. -Between twenty and thirty thousand people were present, -and shows, exhibitors, and players were all busy. He shouted -his text, “Great is Diana of the Ephesians,” and began the -battle. It was waged fiercely, and stones, dirt, and rotten -eggs, with every other means of annoyance, were brought to -bear on the steadfast preacher. “My soul,” he says, “was -among lions.” But soon his wonderful power transformed -the multitude into lambs.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At night he renewed the assault on the stronghold of the -adversary. Thousands had been added to the throng, and -their leaders, who had lost much of their day’s gain by his -preaching, were determined to endure it no longer. A harlequin -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>attempted to strike him with a whip but failed. A -recruiting sergeant, with many followers, and with drum -and fife, made the next effort. But Whitefield called to the -people to make way for the king’s officer, and the people -yielded before, and closed up behind him, until he was in -this manner conducted harmlessly out of the crowd. Next, -a large number combined together, and taking hold of a -long pole charged furiously on the assembly, roaring like -beasts. But they too were foiled, and threw down the pole, -many of them joining the hearers. At times the tumult rose -like the noise of many waters, drowning the voice of the -preacher, who would then resort to singing, until silence returned. -He kept the field to the last, and gathered mighty -spoil into his Tabernacle that night.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Very different were the sermons he preached at the mansion -of Lady Huntingdon, but they were marked by the same -power. Courtiers and noblemen joined in praising him, and -Hume declared that he would go twenty miles to hear him. -No one seemed to be impervious to his wonderful eloquence, -and even in this selected circle he gathered trophies of the -Cross.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He passed and repassed from England to America several -times, and was everywhere as a flame of fire. The languid -zeal of lukewarm churches was revived, and the careless and -immoral led into new lives. He was soon looked up to as an -apostle by thousands who dated their first religious impressions -from the time when they listened to his fervid words. -But opposition was not wanting, and once he very nearly -received the crown of martyrdom.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After he had finished preaching in Dublin, he was attacked -by an immense mob of infuriated Papists. His friends fled -for their lives, and left him to the mercy of the rioters. Stones -from every direction struck him, until he was breathless and -dripping with blood. He found a momentary refuge, when -almost at the point of death, but the inmates of the house -which he had entered, fearing it would be demolished, entreated -him to leave. He was offered a disguise, but refused -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>it, and in his proper dress passed through whole streets of -threatening Papists, and as soon as he had reached a place of -safety, and had his wounds dressed, began to preach again!</p> - -<p class='c000'>Thus year after year passed, crowded full of labors. He -considered it an indication of great feebleness that for a short -time he could only preach one sermon a day. Thousands in -Europe and America called him blessed, and everywhere -countless multitudes crowded to hear him speak of the grace -of God. For the lifetime of an ordinary generation his unequaled -power and untiring labor continued. After speaking -he frequently vomited great quantities of blood, which he -regarded as relieving his over-taxed lungs.</p> - -<p class='c000'>His death was romantic and beautiful, as befitted such a -life. There are few more touching, and yet more happy in -the records of biography.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He preached his last field sermon at Exeter. It was continued -for two hours, and was among his most powerful -efforts. He reached Newburyport, Mass., the same evening, -where he intended to preach the next day. While at supper, -the pavement, and the hall of the house where he sat, were -crowded with people impatient to hear the wonderful orator. -But he was exhausted, and said to one of the clergymen who -accompanied him, “Brother, you must speak to these dear -people; I cannot say a word.” He took a candle and started -for his room, but before he reached it, his generous heart -reproached him for even seeming to desert the people who -were hungering for the bread of life. He paused on the -stairway, while the piece of candle he had taken when he -started cast its flickering light on the crowd below, and -began to speak. The people gazed with tearful awe and -affection on his venerable form. His musical and pathetic -voice flowed on in words of tenderness and exhortation until -the candle went out in its socket. Before the morning he -was dead!</p> - -<p class='c000'>His remembrance did not die with him. Europe and -America vied together in mourning for him, and Methodists, -Churchmen, and Dissenters revered him as a departed prophet.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>What was the secret of his unparalleled power with the -people? Clearly its spring was his own profound and overwhelming -emotions. It is sometimes thought that his almost -perfect elocution explains the fascination he exerted, but it -does not. He is classed by many as one who committed and -recited his discourses. But it may be safely assumed that -he could not have commanded one tithe of his success in that -manner. He may have done this at the beginning of his -career, before his marvelous genius was fully developed, but -not after. It is indeed given as a reason of his embarrassment -when he began to preach in the open air, that he had -not long been accustomed to preach extempore. He says -that often, in his own apprehension, he had not a word to say -either to God or man. Think of a person who has a fully -committed sermon, making such an assertion, and afterwards -thanking God for giving him words and wisdom!</p> - -<p class='c000'>The very best possible evidence that his sermons took their -external form at the moment, was that he complained of the -reports that were made of them. If they had been written before -preaching, he would have had the means of making these -as perfect as desired. Yet he repeated sermons on particular -subjects very often. Foote and Garrick estimated that they -improved up to the thirtieth and fortieth repetition. Going -over the same ground so often, many striking phrases would -doubtless fix themselves in his mind, but he would still be -free to introduce new matters as he wished. His illustrations, -too, many of which were gathered from his own wide experience, -would be given in nearly the same manner on successive -occasions. But he was a fine talker, and by his unlimited -practice in speech improved the power of language to such -an extent that it was fully capable of expressing the ocean -of feeling that flowed in his soul. His published sermons -show few traces of the pen, but bear every mark of impassioned -utterance. Untroubled by doubt, all that he preached -was felt to be present reality. He was a pure and holy man, -moved by the Spirit to the work he entered on, and endowed -with a heart of fire, a soul of love, and a power of expression -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>such as is given to few mortals. No wonder that the multitude -felt him to be little less than inspired.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>JOHN WESLEY.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Both Henry and Whitefield were men of such vast genius -as to be lifted above ordinary rules. When we look upon -them we feel imitation to be almost hopeless. But we will -give an instance of an altogether different kind, and thus -show how easily unwritten speech may be the medium of -every species of address. John Wesley was not an impassioned -or impetuous orator, and yet he wielded an almost -boundless influence. He was fluent and easy in his language, -but exact and logical, leaving no careless word on which an -enemy might seize. Yet his power was great, and even the -scenes of excitement that marked the preaching of Whitefield, -and other early Methodists, were even surpassed under his -clear calm words.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have no intention of sketching the life and great -achievements of Wesley, but will only consider a few events -that bear on his character as a preacher. Before he found -peace in believing, which he did not until he had preached -for years, his sermons were not characterized by any extraordinary -power. They were strong, clear, fluent, and no -more. But after his return from his final voyage to America, -there was a great change. The external characteristics remained -nearly the same, but the fervor and power of the -spirit that breathed through his mildest words, soon produced -the opposite effects of exciting bitter enmity and of drawing -the hearts of the people toward him. It mattered not what -the nature of his congregations might be, there was something -in his manner and words adapted to all. He began -field preaching about the same time that Whitefield did, and -sometimes gathered as many as twenty thousand into one -congregation. While he spoke the whole assembly was -often bathed in tears, and frequently many fell down as -dead. He gathered those who were convinced by his preaching -into societies, and these soon spread over the whole country. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>He was thus required to exercise more authority in -caring for them than any bishop of the Established Church. -For upwards of fifty years he averaged fifteen sermons a -week.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Although Wesley was the founder of Methodism, yet he -differed widely from the typical Methodist preachers. He -dressed neatly, was most courteous and polished in manners, -graceful in the pulpit, and considered violent exertions of -the voice or furious gesticulation to be little less than sin. -His published sermons are models of thoughtful analysis, -close reasoning, and orderly arrangement. Yet he always -spoke without manuscript and without memorizing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Wesley would certainly have been justified, if any person -ever was, in reading his discourses. For he was surrounded -by those who had been led into the way of life by him, and -who treasured up every word that fell from his lips, while -on the other hand, unscrupulous enemies misrepresented him -continually, and sought for occasion to accuse him of teaching -pernicious doctrine. Yet amid such ceaseless preaching, he -was always able to command the very words to express his -ideas, and was never compelled to retract an unguarded -sentence. The volumes of sermons which he published are -to be regarded as mere abstracts of his teaching, recorded -for the benefit of his societies, and not as the very words he -used upon particular occasions. In his later years he came -before the people, as a father instructing his children, and -imparted to them the weighty truths he thought they ought -to know, in all simplicity, and without the slightest care for -outward ornament or word-nicety.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>SIDNEY SMITH.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>This eccentric, whole-souled, humorous, and eloquent clergyman -was born in 1771, and died in 1835. He graduated -at Oxford, received a fellowship, worth five hundred dollars -a year, and thought to study law, but at the instance of his -father, changed his mind and entered the Church. In connection -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>with three others he started the <cite>Edinburgh Review</cite>, -and for years contributed sparkling articles that did much -to establish its reputation and popularity. He also became -known to a wide circle for his brilliant conversational powers, -and, like so many extempore speakers, took great delight -in this most pleasant means of improvement.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At first his preferment in the Church was slow, but his -favor with the people was undoubtful. While he preached in -London large and fashionable audiences were drawn wherever -he officiated.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Finally he was presented with an obscure country living, -and after some delay went to it. It was a desolate place, -far away from all the centers of intellectual life, and previous -incumbents had resided away from it for more than a -century. He says, “When I began to thump the cushion of -my pulpit, on first coming to Foston, as is my wont when I -preach, the accumulated dust of one hundred and fifty years, -made such a cloud that for some minutes I lost sight of my -congregation.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He soon made a change for the better in all the affairs of -the parish; built an ugly but comfortable parsonage, and -won the devoted affection of his people. He passed much -of his time in literary avocations, and after fourteen years, -received preferment to more desirable churches. During the -remainder of his life he used his pen so as to greatly increase -his already wide reputation, and became still more noted as -a preacher. He was very witty, and cared little for the -common rules of sermonizing, but had a power and earnestness -that compensated for every defect. The following extract -will indicate his method of preparation:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“Pulpit discourses have insensibly dwindled from speaking -to reading; a practice which of itself is sufficient to stifle -every germ of eloquence. It is only by the fresh feelings of -the heart that mankind can be very powerfully affected. -What can be more ludicrous than an orator delivering stale -indignation and fervor a week old; turning over whole pages -of violent passions, written out in goodly text; <em>reading</em> the -tropes and apostrophes into which he is hurried by the ardor -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>of his mind; and so affected at a preconcerted line and page -that he is unable to proceed any further!”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>F. W. ROBERTSON.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>No minister of the present generation has lived a purer -life, or left the stamp of his thought more deeply on the public -mind than the young incumbent of Trinity Chapel in Brighton. -His sermons, not published until after his death, are -meeting with an unparalleled sale, and every scrap of his -sermon preparation, no matter how fragmentary, is seized -for the press with the greatest avidity. He now addresses -a far larger and more important audience than ever during -his life time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>F. W. Robertson was born in 1816 and died in 1853—only -thirty-seven years of age. He received the traditional English -education at Oxford, and had a strong inclination for the -military profession. This he was induced to renounce by -the expressed judgment of his father—himself a military -officer—that Frederick was better fitted for the Church. -After he had received ordination, he acted as curate for -twelve months at Winchester. His health being by this -time broken, he took a trip to the continent under the advice -of a physician. He was gone a year, and during this time -entered into marriage. When he returned he served for four -years in the parish of Cheltenham. Here the field for the -exercise of his talents was comparatively narrow; but many -persons were led to a higher life by his ministry—many more -than he, with his habitual self-depreciation, was willing to -believe until years had passed. After this he spent two -months at St. Ebbs, in Oxford, receiving a miserably small -salary. During this short time his talents became known, -and he was offered the rich, aristocratic, and intellectual -church at Brighton. The offer was refused at first, and was -only accepted at last through the urgent solicitation of the -Bishop, who felt that this was his proper field. Here his -popularity became unbounded. The working people, who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>had almost deserted the Establishment, flocked to hear his -bold, true words. His biographer says:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“His eloquence and originality could not fail to be marked. -And if the congregation was intellectual he was pre-eminently -so. The chapel became crowded. Sittings were -scarcely ever to be had. For six years the enthusiasm never -slackened: it grew and spread silently and steadily, and -when he died broke out in a burst of universal sorrow.... -But he put no faith in mere excitement, the eager upturned -face, the still hush of attention. ‘What is ministerial success?’ -he asks. ‘Crowded churches—full aisles—attentive congregation—the -approval of the religious world—much impression -produced? Elijah thought so; and when he found out his -mistake, and discovered that the applause of Carmel subsided -into hideous stillness, his heart well nigh broke with -disappointment. Ministerial success lies in altered lives, and -obedient humble hearts; unseen work recognized in the -judgment day.’”</p> - -<p class='c000'>That success was his. James Anderson says:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“I cannot count up conquests in any place or by any -man so numerous and so vast—conquests achieved in so short -a period, and in many instances over the hearts and consciences -of those whom, from their age or pursuits, it is always -most difficult to reach—as were the conquests of that -devoted soldier of the cross of Christ.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But his labors were too great for his strength. For at -least two years before his death he preached in continual -pain, and yet there was no abatement in his power. Many -of the sermons by which he is best known were then produced. -We can scarcely realize as we read his calm sentences, -radiant with beauty, and full of profound thought, -that they were spoken during the ravages of a cerebral disease, -that was soon to still his eloquent voice forever. When -he died, having preached almost to the last, the city (containing -sixty thousand inhabitants) was draped in gloom, -and mourning was universal. A monument was erected, to -which the working-men contributed a touching memorial.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The manner in which so many of Robertson’s sermons -were preserved, is, when we consider his manner of preaching, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>very remarkable. He spoke extempore, and never wrote out -a sermon before delivery. His leading thoughts were indicated -by short notes, and the whole subject was carefully -arranged in his own mind. But his words and his most -powerful illustrations sprang from the inspiration of the moment. -Usually he took a small piece of paper containing the -headings of his thoughts with him into the pulpit, but never -referred to it after the first few moments had passed. His -sympathizing biographer thus describes him:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“So entirely was his heart in his work, that in public -speaking especially, he lost sight of everything but his subject. -His self-consciousness vanished. He did not choose -his words or think about his thoughts. He not only possessed, -but was possessed by his idea; and when all was -over and the reaction came, he had forgotten like a dream, -words, illustrations, almost everything.... After some -of his most earnest and passionate utterances, he has said to -a friend: ‘Have I made a fool of myself?’</p> - -<p class='c016'>“If the most conquering eloquence for the English people -be that of the man who is all but mastered by his excitement, -but who, at the very point of being mastered, masters himself—apparently -cool, while he is at white heat—so as to -make the audience glow with fire, and at the same time respect -the self-possessed power of the orator—the man being -always felt as greater than the man’s feelings—if that be the -eloquence that most tells upon the English nation, he had -that eloquence. He spoke under tremendous excitement, -but it was excitement reined in by will. He held in his hand -a small piece of paper with a few notes on it when he began. -He referred to it now and then; but before ten minutes had -gone by it was crushed to uselessness in his grasp; for he -knit his fingers together over it, as he knit his words over -thought. His gesture was subdued; sometimes a slow motion -of his hand upward; sometimes bending forward, his -hand drooping over the pulpit; sometimes erecting himself -to his full height with a sudden motion, as if upraised by the -power of the thought he spoke. His voice—a musical, low, -penetrative voice—seldom rose; and when it did it was in a -deep volume of sound which was not loud, but toned like a -great bell. It thrilled also, but that was not so much from -feeling as from the repression of feeling. Toward the close -of his ministry he was wont to stand almost motionlessly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>erect in the pulpit, with his hands loosely lying by his side, -or grasping his gown. His pale, thin face and tall, emaciated -form, seeming, as he spoke, to be glowing as alabaster -glows when lit up by an inward fire. And, indeed, brain -and heart were on fire. He was being self-consumed. Every -sermon in those latter days burned up a portion of his vital -power.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But though thus surrounded by an admiring congregation, -and weekly giving out thoughts that were worthy of still -wider notice, when some of his people, who realized that his -words were too precious to die, raised a subscription to employ -a short-hand reporter, with a view to the publication of -his sermons, he refused to sanction the scheme, and wrote -the parties a characteristic letter, telling them that he had -no time to correct, and, without it, the discourses were not -fit to be given to the public. Yet a number were preserved -in this way, and though not published until after his death, -they are almost faultless in form and expression. Other sermons -were written out briefly by himself, after being preached, -for the use of some private friends. It was thus that those -almost incomparable discourses were preserved, which are -without doubt the most valuable contribution that has been -made to their department of literature during the present -century.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We will give two extracts showing the power that may be -wielded over language without the use of the pen. The first -is from a speech made to a workingman’s institute opposing -the introduction of infidel works into their library. He is -speaking of the compassion that should be shown to the -honest doubter:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“I do think that the way we treat that state is unpardonably -cruel. It is an awful moment when the soul begins to -find that the props on which it has blindly rested so long -are many of them rotten, and begins to suspect them all; -when it begins to feel the nothingness of many of the traditionary -opinions which have been received with implicit confidence, -and in that horrible insecurity begins also to doubt -whether there be anything to believe at all. It is an awful -hour—let him who has passed through it say how awful—when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>this life has lost its meaning, and seems shriveled into -a span; when the grave appears to be the end of all, human -goodness nothing but a name, and the sky above this universe -a dead expanse, black with the void from which God Himself -has disappeared. . . . I appeal (for the truth of the picture -drawn) to the recollection of any man who has passed -through that hour of agony, and stood upon the rock at last, -the surges stilled below him, and the last cloud drifted from -the sky above, with a faith, and hope, and trust, no longer -traditional, but of his own, a trust which neither earth nor -hell shall shake thenceforth for ever.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The second passage we will quote is an illustration from a -sermon on the doubt of Thomas, showing how weak are all -arguments for immortality, except those that are exclusively -Christian. He speaks of many things that are valuable as -suggestions, but worthless as proofs, and next shows how -the same suggestions may point the other way:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“Six thousand years of human existence have passed away. -Countless armies of the dead have set sail from the shores -of time. No traveler has returned from the still land beyond. -More than one hundred and fifty generations have -done their work and sunk into the dust again, and still -there is not a voice, there is not a whisper from the grave to -tell us whether, indeed, those myriads are in existence -still. Besides, why should they be? Talk as you will of -the grandeur of man; why should it not be honor enough -for him—more than enough to satisfy a thing so mean—to -have had his twenty or seventy years life-rent of God’s universe? -Why must such a thing, apart from proof, rise up -and claim to himself an exclusive immortality? . . . -Why may he not sink, after he has played his appointed -part, into nothingness again? You see the leaves sinking -one by one in autumn, till the heaps below are rich with the -spoils of a whole year’s vegetation. They were bright and -perfect while they lasted, each leaf a miracle of beauty and -contrivance. There is no resurrection for the leaves—why -should there be one for man? Go and stand, some summer -evening, by the river side; you will see the May-fly sporting -out its little hour in the dense masses of insect life, darkening -the air a few feet above the gentle swell of the water. -The heat of that very afternoon brought them into existence. -Every gauze wing is traversed by ten thousand fibres, which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>defy the microscope to find a flaw in their perfection. The -omniscience and the care bestowed upon that exquisite anatomy, -one would think cannot be destined to be wasted in a -moment. Yet so it is. When the sun has sunk below the -trees its little life is done. Yesterday it was not; tomorrow -it will not be. God has bidden it be happy for one -evening. It has no right or claim to a second; and in the -universe that marvelous life has appeared once and will appear -no more. May not the race of man sink like the generations -of the May-fly? Why cannot the Creator, so lavish -in His resources, afford to annihilate souls as He annihilates -insects? Would it not almost enhance His glory to believe -it?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Such language Robertson was able to employ without the -use of the pen. But the art was not attained without long -and laborious toil. He committed much—memorizing the -whole Testament, both in English and Greek, and storing -his mind with innumerable gems from the poets. He also -studied the modern languages, particularly German, and delighted -to translate their treasure into his own tongue. He -read much, but not rapidly, dwelling upon a book until he -could arrange the whole of its contents with precision in his -mind. Thus he attained an almost unequalled mastery of -both thought and language. If he had been required to write -every sermon, he could never have pursued such a thorough -and long continued course of cultivation, besides mastering -such a vast amount of knowledge.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have dwelt less upon the general character of his -preaching, with its strong originality, than upon the beauty, -force, and accuracy of his language, because these are the -qualities usually believed to be unattainable without written -composition. But it is safe to say, that in these respects he -has not been surpassed by any preacher ancient or modern.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>HENRY CLAY.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>We will take Henry Clay as an example of the American -political eloquence of the last generation. He was one of a -bright constellation of great men—most of them, like himself, -extemporaneous speakers. In some respects he was, perhaps, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>superior to them all. His hold upon the public mind was -great, and even yet he is regarded with love and reverence -all over the Union. This, however, is not the result of his -genius alone. In some points his great rivals were more unfortunate -than himself. Calhoun’s influence was immense; -but the effect of his teaching has been so deadly that it is -not to be wondered at if his fame is of an equivocal kind. -The badness of Webster’s private life, and his unfortunate -course on some great questions, caused his reputation to -decline, and his really great abilities to be undervalued. -But the genial, large-hearted orator of the West is still a -favorite with the people.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Clay was a Virginian by birth. His father was a Baptist -preacher, very poor, who died when Henry was quite young, -leaving a large family of children. Henry obtained all his -schooling, which was meager enough, in a log school-house. -The young boy was employed first as a clerk in a store, and -afterward as an assistant in a lawyer’s office. Next he became -an amanuensis to Chancellor Wythe, who treated him -kindly and gave him an opportunity to study law. Finally, -he was admitted to the bar, and removed to Kentucky. He -immediately acquired practice, and met with a hearty welcome -from the rough backwoodsmen of that section. He -tells us how he acquired the ability to speak with fluency -and power:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“I owe my success in life to one simple fact, namely, that -at an early age I commenced and continued for some years -the practice of daily reading and speaking the contents of -some historical or scientific book. These off-hand efforts -were sometimes made in a corn-field; at others in the forest; -and not unfrequently in some barn, with the horse and ox -for my only auditors. It is to this early practice of the art -of all arts that I am indebted for the primary and leading -impulses that stimulated my progress and have shaped and -molded my destiny.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>An amusing instance is given of Clay’s first attempt at -debate. He was so much embarrassed that he forgot where -he was, and called the chairman “Gentlemen of the Jury.” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>Yet when this difficulty had been overcome, he soon made a -powerful impression. In fact it was spoken of by some as -not inferior to any of the addresses in which he achieved a -national fame. The policy of emancipation was then under -debate in Kentucky, and young Clay gave it his full support. -But although he had almost unbounded influence on -any other subject, the people of his State loved slavery better -than any man, and the measure was defeated.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The vast power of Clay as an orator was early displayed. -When only twenty-two years of age he, with another very -able speaker, addressed a popular meeting. While the other -spoke there was great applause and deafening acclamations, -but Clay’s address was so much more thrilling and effective, -that the popular feeling became too deep for utterance, and -he closed amid unbroken silence. It was some moments before -the crowd recovered sufficiently to give vent, in thundering -cheers, to the emotion that he had kindled.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is hardly necessary to follow the career of Clay through -all the years that were devoted to the public service, for the -country is still familiar with it. Many of the measures with -which he was connected may not meet our approval, but no -one will question the honesty of his motives, or the ability -with which they were advocated. In Congress he had -scarcely a rival. Calhoun was equally active, and more -logical, but had not the magic of voice and eye, the nameless -graces of delivery that distinguished the Kentucky orator. -Webster spoke more like a giant, but was hard to call out -in his full force, and on ordinary occasions did not speak -nearly as well as Clay. The voice of the latter was an instrument -of great power, and he well knew how to use it. -“Nature,” he said on one occasion, referring to an effort -made years before, “had singularly favored me by giving me -a voice peculiarly adapted to produce the effects I wished in -public speaking. Now,” he added, “its melody is changed, -its sweetness gone.” These words were pronounced as if in -mockery, in tones of exquisite sweetness. One who had -heard him often, says:</p> - -<p class='c016'><span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>“Mr. Clay’s voice has prodigious power, compass, and -richness; all its variations are captivating, but some of its -base tones thrill through one’s whole fame. To those who -have never heard the living melody, no verbal description -can convey an adequate idea of the diversified effects of -those intonations which, in one strain of sentiment, fall in -whispering gentleness like the first words of love upon a -maiden’s lips, and anon in sterner utterances ring with the -maddening music of the main.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A gentleman who witnessed an oratorical encounter between -Clay and Webster describes it as inconceivably grand:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“The eloquence of Mr. Webster was the majestic roar of -a strong and steady blast pealing through the forest; but -that of Mr. Clay was the tone of a god-like instrument, sometimes -visited by an angel touch, and swept anon by all the -fury of the raging elements.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Clay, Webster and Calhoun were all extempore speakers. -Webster sometimes prepared very elaborately, but never -confined himself to his preparation. And some of his very -best efforts were made on the spur of the moment when circumstances -conspired to arouse his vast but somewhat sluggish -genius. Both the others prepared their discourses in -thought alone, and those who were obliged to rely on their -manuscripts or their memories stood no chance at all with -them in the fiery debates through which they passed.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>HENRY B. BASCOM.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>It may be doubted whether the late Bishop Bascom is -properly classed among extempore preachers. His mode of -preparation certainly bordered on the memoriter plan. But -he did not write. He would first construct a skeleton, -usually very simple, and then throw each point into words -mentally. His memory was very great, and the fine expressions -he coined, as he rode through the forest or meditated in -his study, were impressed on his mind so strongly as to be -recalled afterward. It was a common practice with him to -repeat his sermons over and over again to himself, till every -line of thought and every strong expression became perfectly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>familiar. Bascom once stopped at a backwoodsman’s house, -and left it to take a short walk. Soon a neighbor came rushing -in, declaring that he had seen a crazy man walking back -and forth on the edge of the woods, swinging his arms wildly, -and muttering to himself in a strange manner. The neighbor -was told not to be alarmed, but to come to church the -next day and he would see the crazy man again. He did -so, and listened to strains of eloquence as admirable as ever -charmed his ear.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The sermons which were thus prepared, were preached a -great number of times, and each time reviewed and improved. -Bascom traveled a vast extent of country, and the sermons -which thus combined all the strength of his really powerful -mind, for years together, soon became famous. Probably -no preacher ever did so much with so few discourses.</p> - -<p class='c000'>His delivery was wonderful. Henry Clay, who was well -qualified to judge, pronounced him the finest natural orator -he had ever heard. His form was almost perfect, his carriage -noble and graceful, every movement light and springy, so -that, as some of his hearers have declared, “he scarcely -seemed to touch the ground.” He dressed with great taste, -and on this account was often objected to by the early Methodists, -and came very nearly being refused admission into his -Conference. But he soon became a general favorite with -the people, who would throng to hear him from the whole -country for miles around. When he entered the pulpit he -seemed nearly borne down by the weight of his accumulations, -and it was only after he had begun to make headway -that he became easy and self-possessed. Then he poured -forth torrent after torrent of highly wrought eloquence, until -the hearers were lost in admiration of the vast powers he -displayed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A very partial biographer considers it as very strange -that he took but little part in any Conference discussions, -or debates on general topics. The truth is, that with -his mode of preparation, carried as far as he carried it, he -could not. There was no time to forecast his sentences, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>slowly build up a gorgeous fabric, and he therefore remained -silent.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He had a mighty imagination, and could so represent any -object he undertook so describe, that it would live before the -eyes of his hearers. But he cared so much for beauty that -he wandered too far from his way to seek it, and the consequence -was that the object of his discourse</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>——“Passed in music out of sight,”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>and his hearers after recovering from their rapture and astonishment -remained as they were before. He drew vast -audiences together, wrought effectually for the building up -of some colleges, collected much money for various agencies, -was made a Bishop of the M. E. Church, South, in compliment -to his eloquence, but in real work was far inferior to -many a Methodist minister whose name is unknown to fame.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>JOHN SUMMERFIELD.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>The eloquence of the good and noble, but early fallen -Summerfield was in sharp contrast with that of Bascom. A -lady who had heard them both, gave the preference, in some -neat verses, to the latter, on the ground that he was more -grand, awe-inspiring, and tempest-like. The melody and -pathos of Summerfield she compared to the mild zephyr, -and thought this was necessarily inferior to the earth-shaking -storm. But the world has not agreed with her. -Bascom held assembled thousands for hours beneath the -charm of his voice, weeping, smiling, or shouting, at his will. -Yet when all had passed, and the spell had been dissolved, -the only impression that remained was one of simple wonder. -The man and his own eloquence had risen so far above the -subject he was to enunciate that the latter faded from the -mind. More earnestness for truth and sympathy with it, -would have enhanced his real power a hundredfold.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But it was very different with Summerfield. His soul was -full of earnestness, and he moved in an atmosphere of tenderness -and pathos. The eloquence of the great Whitefield -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>might be compared to the whirlwind, prostrating everything -in its path; that of Bascom to an iceberg glowing in the rays -of the morning sun, displaying a thousand colors, but cold -and impassive; and that of Summerfield to the light of the -sun, calm and genial, shining on fields of green, filling the -air with life and light. His speech was simple, easy, and unadorned, -flowing right out of his own heart, and awakening -an answering echo in the hearts of all who heard. The sermons -which he has left are mere fragments—sketches such as -he employed in his preparation, and of course give no idea -of the real power he wielded.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Stevens thus describes his method of preparation:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“Though in the delivery of his sermons there was this -facility—felicity we might call it—in their preparation he -was a laborious student. He was a hearty advocate of extempore -preaching, and would have been deprived of most -of his popular power in the pulpit by being confined to a -manuscript; yet he knew the importance of study, and particularly -of the habitual use of the pen in order to success in -extemporaneous speaking. His own rule was to prepare a -skeleton of his sermon, and after preaching it, write it out -in fuller detail, filling up the original sketch with the principal -thoughts which had occurred to him in the process of -the discourse. The first outline was, however, in accordance -with the rule we have elsewhere given for extempore speaking, -viz., that the perspective of the entire discourse—the -leading ideas, from the exordium to the peroration—should -be noted on the manuscript, so that the speaker shall have -the assurance that he is supplied with a consecutive series -of good ideas, good enough to command the respect of his -audience, though he should fail of any very important impromptu -thoughts. This rule we deem the most essential -condition of success in extemporaneous preaching. It is the -best guarantee of that confidence and self-possession upon -which depends the command of both thought and language. -Summerfield followed it even in his platform speeches. Montgomery -notices the minuteness of his preparations in nearly -two hundred manuscript sketches.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>This great man died at the very early age of twenty-seven, -having preached seven years. But from the very first he -produced a profound impression. Dr. Bethune thus describes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>one of his earliest efforts in this country. He was then -scarcely known. It was at an anniversary of the Bible -Society, and an able man had just spoken with great acceptance:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“The chair announced the Rev. Mr. Summerfield, from -England. ‘What presumption!’ said my clerical neighbor; -‘a boy like that to be set up after a giant!’ But the -stripling came in the name of the God of Israel, armed with -‘a few smooth stones from the brook’ that flows ‘hard by -the oracles of God.’ His motion was one of thanks to the -officers of the society for their labors during the year; and -of course he had to allude to the president, then reposing in -another part of the house; and thus he did it: ‘When I saw -that venerable man, too aged to warrant the hope of being -with you at another anniversary, <em>he reminded me of Jacob -leaning upon the top of his staff, blessing his children before he -departed</em>.’ He then passed on to encourage the society by -the example of the British institution. ‘When we first -launched our untried vessel upon the deep, the storms of opposition -roared, and the waves dashed angrily around us, -and we had hard work to keep her head to the wind. We -were faint with rowing, and our strength would soon have -been gone, but we cried, ‘Lord, save us, or we perish!’ -<em>Then a light shone upon the waters, and we saw a form walking -upon the troubled sea, like unto that of the Son of God, and he -drew near the ship, and we knew that it was Jesus; and he stepped -upon the deck, and laid his hand upon the helm, and he said -unto the winds and waves, Peace, be still, and there was a great -calm.</em> Let not the friends of the Bible fear; God is in the -midst of us. God shall help us, and that right early.’ In -such a strain he went on to the close. ‘Wonderful! wonderful!’ -said my neighbor the critic; ‘he talks like an angel -from heaven.’”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>C. H. SPURGEON.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>No minister now living has been heard by so many people -in the same number of years, or has been the subject of so -much controversy as Spurgeon. The great populace of London -has been moved to its depths by his preaching, and he -has met with the same enthusiastic reception wherever he -has preached. He is yet very young—only thirty-four years -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>of age—and had become celebrated before he was twenty-one. -Such speedy recognition is certainly a proof of great -merit, and his example is well worth our attention.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Spurgeon’s parents were poor but respectable—his father -and grandfather being Independent ministers. He early felt -it his duty to preach, and even when a child was accustomed -to preach to his playmates. His father wished him to go to -college to qualify himself for the work in regular form, but -after giving the matter careful consideration he declined. -Even when he became usher at Cambridge, and began to -preach occasionally, he refused the tempting offer of a college -course, and gave it as his opinion that he was called to go to -the work at once, and not to waste years in preparation. -We can hardly tell what effect a long course of training, -that would have allowed time for his fervid zeal to cool, -would have had upon his after life. About the same time -he left the church of his fathers and united with the Baptists, -believing that immersion was the proper baptism. His occasional -ministrations were marked by modesty and good -sense, as well as loving earnestness.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He was soon called to take charge of an old, but decayed -church in London. Its forlorn condition did not dismay -him, and under his vigorous care and mighty preaching the -congregation became overflowing. The building was enlarged, -but the congregation grew still larger. Immense -public halls were taken, and these too were soon overflowed. -His congregation built a new church of extraordinary size, -which has been packed full on each preaching occasion ever -since. Several volumes of his sermons have been published, -and have met with a ready sale. He preaches nearly a sermon -a day, corresponds with a newspaper, writes books, superintends -a ministerial school, speaks for and aids a number -of charitable institutions—altogether performing more labor -than perhaps any other preacher of our day. Yet these multiform -labors are performed with such ease and certainty -that he hardly ever appears tired, and gives no indication -of breaking down.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>What is the secret of the power by which this man has -reached the hearts of the poor more fully than any other man -for many years? It is admitted on all hands that he is not -a man of profound intellect. There is no trace of unusual -powers of thought either in his published or spoken sermons. -But there is a more than ordinary force of arrangement, -illustration and expression. He may not be in the first -class of great men, but he is surely foremost in the second -class. He also possesses wonderful enthusiasm. His faith is -too clear for a doubt, and he is never troubled with any misgivings -regarding his own power of presenting the truth. -Confidence is a part of his nature, and enables him to bear -unmoved any amount of opposition, and, while preaching, to -follow out any suggestions of his genius. His power of language -is very great. From beginning to end of his discourse -he never falters, nor uses the wrong word. His voice is -strong, clear, and melodious, making the tritest thought interesting. -But above all, he is a good man, and works solely -for the good of his hearers. This is the reason why he is not -intoxicated by his great success. He feels that the Holy -Spirit labors with him, and that the blessing of God rests -upon him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Spurgeon is an extempore preacher in the best sense of the -word. He studies and meditates as fully as his time will -permit, and at any period is ready to give what he thus masters -to the public. “I can’t make out,” said a minister to -him, “when you study, Brother Spurgeon. When <em>do</em> you -make your sermons?” “Oh!” he replied, “I am always -studying—I am sucking in something from everything. If -you were to ask me home to dine with you, I should suck a -sermon out of you.” One who had known him, thus writes:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“With respect to his habits of composition, he assured us -that not one word of his sermons is written before delivery, -and that the only use he makes of his pen upon them is to -correct the errors of the stenographer. His happy faculty -of mere mental composition, and of remembering what he -thus composes, saves him much time and drudgery. He can -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>exercise it anywhere; but probably with more success in the -pulpit, while he is giving utterance to what he has prearranged -in his mind. Learning not to read manuscript out -of the pulpit is the best preparation for not reading it in the -pulpit, and he who in his study can think well, independently -of it, will, in the pulpit, think better without it; for the excitement -occasioned by speaking what he has premeditated—if -that excitement does not produce too deep feeling—will -summon new thoughts to fill up the old ranks, and lead whole -divisions of fresh recruits into the field.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The almost irresistible attraction of Spurgeon’s ministrations -may be inferred from the following facts:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“It was no unusual sight on a Sunday evening to see placards -put up outside of the building (Exeter Hall) announcing -that it was full, and that no more could be admitted. In his -own church it has been found necessary for the police to be -present at every service, and the pew-holders are admitted by -ticket through a side door. This accomplished, at ten minutes -prior to the commencement of the service, the doors are opened -and a rush commences; but it is speedily over, for the chapel -is full—not only the seats but every inch of standing-room -being occupied, and the gates have to be closed, with an -immense crowd of disappointed expectant hearers outside. -The church has, indeed, reason to be deeply grateful that -amid the vice and immorality of London, a voice so clear -and loud has been lifted up for the cause of the Redeemer.”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>HENRY WARD BEECHER.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Perhaps no American minister has ever become so well -known to the whole body of the people as Henry Ward -Beecher. He has been bitterly criticised and opposed even -by members of his own denomination, but has triumphed -over every attack, and won a proud place among preachers. -He has even become a power in the political world, and his -devotion to the cause of liberty has endeared him to thousands -who might otherwise have never heard his name.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This great orator was born in 1813 in the State of Connecticut. -His father, Lyman Beecher, was a clergyman of great -force and celebrity. Young Beecher graduated at Amherst -College at twenty-one, and studied theology with his father -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>at Lane Seminary, Cincinnati. When this was concluded, -he was first settled over a small Presbyterian church at Lawrenceburg, -Ind., where he remained two years, and then removed -to Indianapolis, and preached eight years with great -acceptance. His first sermon was so earnest and powerful -that it led to the conversion of twelve persons. A course -of lectures, which he gave during this period to young men, -attracted great attention, and he was soon after called to -take charge of Plymouth Church in Brooklyn. It was then -a feeble organization; but under his care has increased to -vast proportions. It has now a membership of 1,700, and -the largest regular congregation by far of any church in the -land. The income of the church from the rent of pews is -nearly $41,000!</p> - -<p class='c000'>As a lecturer, Beecher stands among the very first. He -speaks every year, in nearly every prominent city of the -Union, and thus contributes powerfully to the success of the -various reforms he advocates. He early gave the anti-slavery -movement the support of his powerful eloquence, and preached -and lectured against the great evil so effectually that no man -was more denounced and hated at the South than he.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the heat of our civil contest he passed some months in -England, and there spoke for the cause of liberty and Union. -He met with the most embittered opposition; the rabble, -who had been incited by handbills to come out and put him -down, often roaring until his voice could no longer be heard. -He would calmly watch them until the noise for a moment -subsided, and then speak again with such effect that the victory -was soon declared in his favor. No man contributed -more powerfully to allay the prejudice of England against -our nation during her sore contest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We do not wonder at the great popularity of Beecher. -He possesses much greater intellectual acuteness than Spurgeon, -and is inferior in this particular to no one of the orators -of the present day. The variety of topics he discusses is -immense, and he brings such good sense and sound logic to -bear on them, that the people feel him to be a teacher indeed. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>They go to hear him, expecting that he will apply high spiritual -truth to every day life, and are not disappointed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Beecher is a giant in reasoning power, and gives no light, -superficial views of anything. His feelings are very acute, -and by the mere force of sympathy he has the smiles and -tears of his audience at command. His power of illustration -is wonderful; the most abstruse subject grows plain under -the light of his luminous comparisons. While his command -of language is very great, and he never hesitates for a word, -his taste is so pure that he never uses an unnecessary or objectionable -term. In fact, he speaks for the press as much -as for the congregation before him. For years his sermons -have been taken down by short-hand writers, and read all -over the world. Sometimes they do not even receive a final -correction from him. This is a convincing evidence of his -marvelous popularity. His sermons are first preached to a -vast assembly, and then spread before hundreds of thousands -of readers. Not only newspapers of his own denomination, -but of others, count it a great attraction to be able to announce -a weekly or semi-monthly sermon from this gifted -man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>On several occasions we were privileged to hear him, -and will give some account of the first time we listened to -his eloquence. A large number of people gathered long before -the hour for service, and waited impatiently for the -opening of the door. Ten minutes before the hour the crowd -was admitted, and every vacant pew almost instantly filled. -Then seats were folded out from the ends of the pews into -the aisles, and these filled until the whole vast space was one -dense mass of living humanity; on the ground floor or in the -second or third galleries there was no unoccupied space. -Many even then were forced to turn away from the door. -The preaching was plain, logical, deep, and clear rather than -brilliant. There was no florid imagery, but the light of imagination -gleamed through the whole discourse. The subject -was naturally analyzed, every part powerfully illustrated, and -the application pungent enough to reach every heart not entirely -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>impervious. Several times a smile rippled over the -faces of the congregation, but lasted only for a moment, and -was generally the prelude for some deep and solemn impression.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Beecher prepares his discourses with care, but neither -memorizes nor reads them. On one occasion we noticed -him lay his manuscript on the desk before him and begin to -read. The description was beautiful, but the congregation -seemed indifferent, and gave no evidence of close attention. -Soon he pushed the paper away. Then every eye was bent -upon him with intensest interest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Beecher’s ordinary lectures give but little indication of his -real power. They are written and read in the same form to -numerous audiences. But his genius finds free play only -when the manuscript is abandoned. Then, when he speaks -for a cause in which his heart is enlisted, we have an example -of what mortal eloquence can be. We once heard him at a -large meeting which he had visited as a listener. A long -and rather dull speech had been made by the orator of the -evening. But Beecher was seen, recognized, and called out. -Every murmur was stilled. Laughter and tears succeeded -each other with marvelous rapidity; but he closed by a daring -apostrophe, spoken in a low tone, that thrilled to every -heart, and held all spell-hound for some moments after he -had ceased to speak! It seemed the full realization of every -dream of the might and power of eloquence.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>ANNA E. DICKINSON.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>This lady was born in 1842, and while quite young became -celebrated as a public speaker. She has not won her present -position by a single brilliant effort, but by long continued -exertions and the display of solid talent. She is a member -of the Society of Friends, and early imbibed the hatred of -oppression and slavery for which that denomination is distinguished. -Her principal public speeches have been given -in the service of freedom, and to secure a higher position and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>a wider range of employments for women. Her own example, -as well as her teachings, has been one of great value to -her sex.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Miss Dickinson began to speak she had no powerful -friends to aid, and for a time her audiences were quite small. -But she was too firm and devoted to the cause she advocated -to grow discouraged. And there was something so -attractive in her manner, that opposition was soon overcome, -and her audiences grew continually. She was so truthful, -earnest, elegant, and strong, that before she was twenty-one -years of age she was recognized as a power in the political -world, and few voices more eloquent than hers were lifted -up on behalf of liberty and justice during our civil war. She -has also taken part in political canvassing with great success. -Her reputation as a lyceum lecturer is fully established. In -all the cities of the United States where she has spoken large -and enthusiastic audiences have greeted her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In speaking, she is modest, graceful, and unconstrained, -with an air and manner of perfect naturalness. There is no -elaborate ornament in her words, but they are always well -chosen, and flow with the utmost ease. Her discourses are -logical, and usually bear upon a single point with overwhelming -force. Without the slightest attempt at stage effect, she -frequently displays deep emotion, and becomes totally absorbed -in her subject. Her voice is full, clear, melodious, -and perfectly distinct; it is persuasive, well modulated, and -equally capable of expressing pathos, and scorn, and command.</p> - -<p class='c000'>With such abilities she cannot fail to be popular, and her -influence, which is always for good, is steadily widening. -Yet in order to display her full power, she requires a subject -that enlists her sympathies, and in a mere literary lecture, -although always instructive, she does not produce the same -vivid impression as when roused by some injustice, or pleading -the cause of the oppressed and feeble.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The manner of preparation by which this lady, who takes -rank with the best of American orators, has acquired such -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>power over words and hearts, merits attention; in response -to our inquiry, she says:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“For the first three years of my public life, speaking, with -me, was absolutely extempore; that is, I gave a general -look over the field before I rose to my feet, then talked. -Since then, I consider my subject—let it lie in my mind, and -gather fresh thoughts—statistics—what not—almost unconsciously—as -a stone gathers moss.</p> - -<p class='c016'>“When I wish to make the speech, I arrange this mass in -order and form—make a skeleton of it on paper, and leave -the filling in till I reach the platform—then some things I -have thought of are omitted, and others thought of at the -time, are substituted. The speech changes here and there -for some time, and then gradually crystalizes—that is all. -I mean, of course, what is called a regular lyceum speech. -The political speeches are made very much on my old plan.”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>JOHN A. BINGHAM.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>We selected one American political orator of the generation -that has just gone by as a specimen of the capabilities of -extempore speech, and will now give an instance of the present. -The speaker we have chosen is widely known. Many -have listened to his eloquent words, and in the stormy events -of the last few years, his name has become a household word. -We make this choice the more readily because the character -of eloquence for which Bingham is noted, is that which -many persons suppose to be most incompatible with a spontaneous -selection of words—beauteous, elegant, melodious, -and highly adorned.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bingham graduated, was admitted to the bar, and speedily -became a successful lawyer. He also turned his attention to -political affairs, and became known as a most efficient public -canvasser for the doctrines of the party with which he acted. -This is one of the best schools in the world for ready and -vigorous speech, but has a tendency to produce carelessness -of expression, and to substitute smartness for logic and principle. -This tendency he successfully resisted, and became -distinguished for the deep moral tone, as well as for the -beauty of the language of his addresses. He was elected to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>Congress from an Ohio district, and become known as one -of the most eloquent members of that body. He took a -prominent part in the opposition to the Kansas and Nebraska -bill, and met the entire approval of the people. When the -Southern States commenced to secede in the winter of 1860–61 -he brought forward a force bill to compel them to submit -to national authority. This was defeated by those who -thought that other means would avail. Time proved the -wisdom of his views.</p> - -<p class='c000'>All through the contest that followed, his voice was heard -on the side of liberty and Union. He soon became known as -one of the leaders of the Republican party, and has nobly -held that position to the date of writing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mr. Bingham, in speaking, is calm, clear and pointed. -His manner indicates confidence, and his words flow freely. -Imagination is allowed full play, and the spirit of poetry -breathes everywhere. He abounds in lofty and beautiful -imagery, that places the truth in the clearest light. While -the subject is never lost sight of, a thousand graces and beauties -cluster around it from every hand. From the elevation -and certainty of his language, many casual hearers have been -led to imagine that his speeches were written and committed. -But the reverse is the case. Some of his highest efforts have -been made with no time even for the prearrangement of -thought. This is one secret of his great success as a debater. -He is always ready, with or without warning, to -speak the thoughts that are in his mind. But he prefers, of -course, to have time to arrange his matter in advance.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The following passage will illustrate the force of Mr. Bingham’s -thought and expression. It is from a speech in reply -to Wadsworth, and was entirely unstudied:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“As the gentleman then and now has chosen to assail me -for this, I may be pardoned for calling his attention to the -inquiry, what further did I say in that connection, on that -day, and in the hearing of the gentleman? I said that every -loyal citizen in this land held his life, his property, his home, -and the children of his house, a sacred trust for the common -defence. Did that remark excite any horror in the gentleman’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>mind. Not at all I undertook, in my humble way, -to demonstrate that, by the very letter and spirit of the Constitution, -you had a right to lay the lives and the property -and the homes, the very hearth-stones of the honest and the -just and the good, under contribution by law, that the Republic -might live. Did that remark excite any abhorrence -in the gentleman, or any threat that fifteen slave States would -be combined against us? Not at all. I stated in my place -just as plainly, that by your law you might for the common -defence not only take the father of the house, but the eldest -born of his house, to the tented field by force of your conscription, -if need be, and subject him to the necessary despotism -of military rule, to the pestilence of the camp, and the -destruction of the battle-field. And yet the gentleman was -not startled with the horrid vision of a violated Constitution, -and there burst from his indignant lips no threat that if we -did this there would be a union of fifteen slave States against -the Federal despotism. I asserted in my place, further, that -after you had taken the father and his eldest born away, and -given them both to death a sacrifice for their country, you -could, by the very terms of the Constitution, take away the -shelter of the roof-tree which his own hands had reared for -the protection of the wife and the children that were left behind, -and quarter your soldiers beneath it, that the Republic -might live. And yet the gentleman saw no infraction of the -Constitution, and made no threat of becoming the armed ally -of the rebellion. But the moment that I declared my conviction -that the public exigencies and the public necessities -required, that the Constitution and the oaths of the people’s -Representatives required, that by your law—the imperial -mandate of the people—the proclamation of liberty should -go forth over all that rebel region, declaring that every slave -in the service of these infernal conspirators against your children -and mine, against your homes and mine, against your -Constitution and mine, against the sacred graves of your -kindred and mine, shall be free, the gentleman rises startled -with the horrid vision of broken fetters and liberated bondmen, -treason overthrown, and a country redeemed, regenerated, -and forever reunited, and cries, No; this shall not be; -fifteen States will combine against you. Slavery is the civilizer; -you shall neither denounce it as an ‘infernal atrocity,’ -nor overthrow it to save the Union. I repeat the word -which so moved the gentleman from his propriety, that chattel -slavery is an ‘infernal atrocity.’ I thank God that I -learned to lisp it at my mother’s knee. It is a logical sequence, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>sir, disguise it as you may, from that golden rule -which was among the first utterances of all of us, ‘whatsoever -ye would that men should do unto you, do ye so even unto -them.’”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The second instance is taken from a speech on the proposal -to furnish relief to the Southerners who were in a destitute -and starving condition after the close of the war.</p> - -<p class='c016'>“No war rocks the continent, no armed rebellion threatens -with overthrow the institutions of the country. The pillars -of the holy temple of our liberties do not tremble in the storm -of battle; the whole heavens are no longer covered with -blackness, and the habitations of the people are no longer -filled with lamentation and sorrow for their beautiful slain -upon the high places of the land! Thanks be to God! the -harvest of death is ended and the sickle has dropped from the -hands of the ‘pale reapers’ on the field of mortal combat.</p> - -<p class='c016'>“Sir, you may apply in the day of war the iron rule of -war, and say that the innocent and unoffending in the beleagured -city shall perish with the guilty; but when war’s -dread alarm has ended, as happily it has with us, when the -broken battalions of rebellion have surrendered to the victorious -legions of the Republic, let no man stand within the -forum of the people and utter the horrid blasphemy that you -shall not have regard for the famishing poor, that you shall -not give a cup of water to him that is ready to perish in the -name of our Master, that you shall not even relieve the wants -of those who have never offended against the laws. The unoffending -little children are not enemies of your country or -of mine; the crime of treason is not upon their souls. Surely, -surely they are not to be denied your care. The great French -patriot, banished from the empire for his love of liberty, gathered -little children around him in his exile at Guernsey, and -fed them from his own table, uttering the judgment of our -common humanity in its best estate; ‘Little children at least -are innocent, for God wills it so.’”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>This great statesman and orator is an extempore speaker, -and one of the best in the world. He has not, perhaps, the -fiery force of John Bright, who, like himself, speaks without -previous preparation of words, but far surpasses him in variety -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>and elegance. His speech, like a prism, reflects a thousand -shades of color, and the dullest subject under his treatment -blooms into life and light. His style is more like that -of Cicero than of Demosthenes, being diffuse, sparkling, -graceful—flowing like a river, that is always full to the brim. -He is prepared at any hour of day or night to take part in -any discussion of interest to him. Even when he is explaining -details of finance, usually the driest of subjects, he is listened -to with delighted interest. By the mere force of his -talents he has raised himself to a commanding position in -England, and as a writer has also attracted much attention.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gladstone is of a light and nervous build, has a very sweet -and attractive countenance, and a rich and fascinating voice. -As a debater he is almost faultless, unless his want of harshness -and maliciousness be called a fault. Sometimes, too, he -shows a disposition to yield rather than contend, but never -when principle is at stake. To him, perhaps more than any -other, belongs the credit of the great reform bill which has -almost changed the government of Great Britain.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The following extract from a communication on the subject -of extempore speaking will be read with deep interest:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>Hawanden, North Wales</span>, Oct. 12, 1867.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>... “I venture to remark, first, that your countrymen, -so far as a very limited intercourse and experience can enable -me to judge, stand very little in need of instruction or advice -as to public speaking from this side of the water. And further, -again speaking of my own experience, I think that the -public men of England are, beyond all others, engrossed by -the multitude of cares and subjects of thought belonging to -the government of a highly diversified empire, and therefore -are probably less than others qualified either to impart to -others the best methods of preparing public discourses, or to -consider and adopt them for themselves.</p> - -<p class='c016'>“Suppose, however, I were to make the attempt, I should -certainly found myself on a double basis, compounded as -follows: First, of a wide and thorough general education, -which, I think, gives a suppleness and readiness, as well as -a firmness of tissue to the mind, not easily obtained without -this form of discipline. Secondly, of the habit of constant -and searching reflection on the <em>subject</em> of any proposed discourse. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>Such reflection will naturally clothe itself in words, -and of the phrases it supplies, many will spontaneously rise -to the lips. I will not say that no other forms of preparation -can be useful, but I know little of them, and it is on these, -beyond all doubt, that I would advise the young principally -to rely.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“I remain, &c.,      W. E. GLADSTONE.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>W. Pittenger.</span>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h4 class='c014'>MATTHEW SIMPSON.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>This distinguished divine was born in Cadiz, O., in 1811, -began to preach in 1833, and was elected Bishop of the M. -E. Church in 1852. At the very beginning of his ministerial -career, his sermons made a deep impression, and his early -promise has been abundantly realized.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As a lecturer he has also acquired a deservedly high rank. -During the war of the rebellion he delivered a discourse on -the “Future of Our Country,” in the principal cities of the -United States, which gave him a more than denominational -fame. This lecture has probably never been surpassed as a -summing up of the resources of the nation, and an application -of the data to the prediction of the probable destiny and -form of our government. As far as words were concerned, it -was an extempore address, and had the peculiarity that might -be expected from this fact, of being much better delivered, -and therefore, of making a much more profound impression -at some points than others.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Simpson travels continually, preaching at conferences, dedicating -churches, and delivering lectures, thus being brought -into close contact with the people in all parts of the country. -He has little resemblance to the popular ideal of an orator. -His action is ungraceful, and his voice low and almost monotonous. -He is also hard worked, and not having the powers -of endurance possessed by some of our incessant preachers, he -usually appears tired and exhausted. Yet he has three qualities -that go far to make up for these defects. He is intensely earnest -and real. Before listening to him five minutes his hearers -are convinced that he is speaking the very thoughts of his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>soul without evasion or pretense. He also has great imagination, -and, as a consequence, the statement of facts, in which -he abounds, is never dry or tedious. And lastly, he has great -command of condensed and expressive language. What he -wishes to say is said in a few words, and every sermon is -filled with the materials of thought rather than with mere -verbiage. These qualities atone for every deficiency of external -grace, and place him among the most popular ministers -of the Methodist Church.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Simpson preaches entirely extempore, having no time to -write, even if he had the disposition. His memory is tenacious, -and his power of observation keen, so that he is never -at a loss for facts or illustrations. He has a tender heart also, -and often appeals to his own vivid experiences, thus drawing -the sympathies of the people with him.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>WENDELL PHILLIPS.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>There can scarcely be a doubt that Wendell Phillips is the -greatest professional lecturer of the present day. He is -always radical, and on the extremest verge of every question, -although in many things the people have followed hard on -his footsteps. As a speaker, he has great power, combined -with unsurpassed elegance. His manner is calm, his voice -of silvery sweetness, yet every rounded sentence is full of -living flame, and no man is so unsparing in his denunciations. -In a style as lucid, exact, and pure as that of a scholar -who has been all his life secluded from the world, and busied -with literature alone, he utters words and sentences befitting -the stormiest revolution.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The lectures of Phillips, which are repeated again and -again, are, of course, well studied and the language followed -pretty closely, though not invariably. But like Mirabeau, -it is in his unstudied speeches that he rises highest. The -first address that gave him public fame was of this character. -A meeting had been called in Boston to pass resolutions -of indignation on the occasion of the murder of Lovejoy, -who was killed in Illinois for his devotion to freedom. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>The whole business of the meeting was arrested, and the -resolutions were on the point of being defeated by the powerful -opposition of a leading politician, who feared even to -say that murder was wrong. Phillips was present as a listener, -but could keep his seat no longer, and, arising, gave -vent to his feelings in a speech so full of thrilling and indignant -eloquence, that the purpose of the meeting was at once -secured, and he himself brought before the public as one of -the first orators of the age.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In regard to the manner of his preparation Phillips himself -refers to the celebrated letter of Lord Brougham to the father -of Macaulay, on the training of his son in eloquence. The -substance of Brougham’s advice is, to first acquire the power -of speaking freely and easily before an audience, no matter -at what sacrifice of accuracy and elegance. This, he says -truly, can only be done by much practice. When this is -accomplished, he recommends studying and committing to -memory the orations of Demosthenes until their spirit is fully -imbibed.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>JOHN P. DURBIN.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>This traveler, scholar, and preacher, adds another one to -the long and illustrious list of those who have triumphed over -every hindrance and risen to eminence. He was born in -1800. A district school afforded him all the education he -obtained before entering the Methodist itineracy, but while -enduring the hardships of a pioneer minister he studied -diligently, perusing his Bible and commentaries around the -log fires of his parishioners whenever even this poor opportunity -occurred. When he was appointed to Cincinnati a -more promising field opened. He went to college during -the week, and still filled his pulpit on the Sabbath. He soon -after became a professor in a college, and afterward chaplain -to Congress, where he was highly distinguished. Then he -served a time as editor of the <cite>New York Advocate</cite>, and became -President of Dickenson College. Next he traveled through -the old world, as far as Egypt and Syria, and, returning, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>wrote a very interesting account of his journey. He was, -lastly, elected Corresponding Secretary of the M. E. Missionary -Society—a position which he has held for years, and -which brings him into contact with large masses of people -in every part of the country.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The merits of Durbin as an orator are many and high. He -possesses deep feeling, and the tears of the people to whom -he preaches are at his command. There is a greatness about -his character that is always felt, and with it a childlike simplicity -that endears him to every heart. There is an utter -absence of the pretension we sometimes find about those -who are conscious of the possession of great powers. His -arrangement of every sermon is plain, simple, and easily remembered. -His command of words is complete, and he -always finds just the one he wants without hesitation. The -tones of his voice are affectionate and pleasing, though when -not called into animation by some subject worthy of his -powers, a little monotonous, yet so strong that when he -seems to be only talking at the pitch of common conversation, -every word can be heard to the extremity of the largest -church. But his voice can be raised to a thunder peal that -is the more impressive because it is seldom employed. The -perfect ease with which he preaches, is far different from the -manner of those who have memorized every word and are -full of anxiety for its effect. Often while he talks away -with apparent indifference, every eye is fixed on his, or -moistened with tears. When we heard him, some of his -images were overwhelmingly sublime, and we held our breath -in awe; at other times his explanations seemed to throw new -and radiant light on what was before dark and obscure.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The mode by which Durbin attained his great success is -worthy of careful attention. In a communication to the -compiler of these notices, he says:</p> - -<p class='c016'>... “I never wrote my sermons—not more than two -or three in my life—and these not till after I had preached -them. My plan has been to have a well-defined topic, and -only such subdivisions as naturally arise out of the topic. I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>generally put them down separately on a small piece of paper, -which I take into the pulpit, but scarcely ever use. This is -commonly called a <em>skeleton</em>. I do not write out anything I -propose to say, but carefully think over the main points; -but never commit them to memory. I keep within living -touch of my skeleton, but depend on the natural consecutiveness -of thought to enable me to clothe it with muscle; and -I depend on the inspiration of the occasion to give it life and -color. The inspiration is partly human and partly divine; -arising from the combined action of the divine and the human -spirit, which combined action constitutes the power of -a <em>preached</em> gospel.</p> - -<p class='c016'>“So far as human ability is concerned, I believe that this is -the secret of any success I have had in preaching the Gospel.”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>NEWMAN HALL.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>The <cite>Evangelist</cite> gives Rev. Newman Hall’s account of how -he learned extempore preaching, as follows:</p> - -<p class='c016'>“When I went to college, it seemed to me that I should -never be able to say a word in public without writing. But -I soon determined that if I was going to be a preacher, and -particularly if I wanted to be anything like a successful -preacher, I <em>must</em> form the habit of extemporaneous address. -So I went into my room, locked the door, placed the Bible -before me on a mantel, opened it at random, and then on -whatever passage my eye chanced to rest, proceeded to deliver -a discourse of ten minutes. This practice was kept up -an entire twelve months. Every day, for a whole year, ten -minutes were given to that kind of speaking, in my own -room by myself. At first I found it very difficult to speak -so long right to the point. But then if I couldn’t talk <em>on</em> -the subject I would talk <em>about</em> it—making good remarks and -moral reflections—being careful to keep up the flow, and say -something to the end of the term allotted for the exercise. -At the end of the twelve months, however, I found I could -not only speak with a good degree of fluency, but that I could -hold myself strictly to the subject in hand. You take this -course. Don’t do your practising on an audience. That is -outrageous.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span> - <h2 class='c006'>APPENDIX.</h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c001'>I.<br /> THE CHAIRMAN’S GUIDE.<br /> <span class='large'>ORDER OF PROCEEDINGS IN VARIOUS MEETINGS.</span></h3> - -<p class='c007'>When the business of an assembly is limited to hearing -one man speak, there is little need of rules. But when there -are several speeches, and various kinds of business are mingled -with them, the subject of order becomes important. -Many a fluent speaker may be embarrassed because he does -not know just when he ought to speak, and how to introduce -what he desires. A member of Congress, for instance, cannot -be efficient, no matter what his talents, until he masters -the rules of business. Even in smaller and less formal -assemblies it is of great advantage to every one, especially if -called upon to preside, as all may be in this land of discussions, -to know just how to fulfil the duties imposed on -him. In this short, and necessarily imperfect sketch, we will -only aim to give those simple forms of parliamentary law -that will often be needed by every man who essays to speak -at all.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Every society has the right to form its own laws, and -whenever it does positively determine any matter, the general -rules of order are superseded to that extent. But it -would be an endless task for any body to provide beforehand -for every case that might occur, and the greater part -of these are always left to be decided by general usage. -This usage, which has been growing up for years, now covers -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>almost every possible point. An eminent authority says: -“It is much more material that there should be a rule to go -by than what that rule is, for then the standard cannot be -changed to suit the caprice or interest of the chairman, or -more active members, and all are assured of justice.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The same rules apply to all assemblies, with a few modifications, -which are readily suggested by the nature of the -assembly. We will give a few of the special applications -first, and afterward the general rules.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>RELIGIOUS ASSEMBLIES.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>The regular public service of churches which have a ritual -is governed by it, and in those which have none, usage -always fixes a course from which the preacher should not vary -without good reasons. The most common mode of procedure -in churches that are governed by unwritten custom is, first, -a short invocation of God’s blessing on the service. This is -omitted in the Methodist church and some others. Then -follows the reading and singing of a hymn; prayer, the reading -of a Scripture lesson (which is frequently omitted in evening -service), singing again and preaching. There are several -modes of closing. Sometimes the order is: prayer; singing a -hymn, with doxology attached; and benediction. Sometimes -singing comes first, then prayer, and the benediction pronounced -while the congregation is in the attitude of prayer. -Sometimes there are four distinct acts; singing a hymn; -prayer; singing the doxology; and benediction. The order -in which these modes of closing are stated is, in our opinion, -also the order of preference.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Business and congregational meetings are governed by the -common rules of order.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>ANNIVERSARIES, CELEBRATIONS, ETC.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>In meetings of this character, the object usually is to enjoy -a pleasant time, hear speeches, and pass resolutions that have -been prepared beforehand, and on which no discussion is -expected. In Sunday-school celebrations, and other meetings -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>of the same nature, let a programme be formed, with each -performance in its order, and either printed and distributed -or read as soon as the meeting is called to order. This must -be done at the proper time by the superintendent, or some -one appointed for the purpose, who will act as chairman, -and introduce each speaker in his turn. Any resolutions -offered should be in writing, and also read by him, and put -to vote in the regular form. When the exercises are closed -the meeting will be dismissed without waiting for a motion -to adjourn.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In anniversary meetings of a more formal character, it is -common to have each speaker supplied, in advance, with a -resolution on which he is to speak. At the proper time he -will arise, offer the resolution, and make his address. If it -is desirable to have more than one speech on that resolution, -the next can second the motion and speak in the same way. -Then the resolution may be put in the common form. This -can be continued until all the resolutions and speakers are -disposed of.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>LITERARY AND EDUCATIONAL SOCIETIES.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>In the societies usually attached to colleges, everything -should be done with the most scrupulous regularity, and thus -the rules of public business fully learned. It is well also for -them to have a certain order by which all their exercises -shall be governed, and everything made to move on with the -regularity of clockwork. A committee can easily construct -such a plan, and it can be amended as desired. It should -always have a department for miscellaneous business.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Literary societies and debating clubs are very commonly -formed in villages and school districts, and when properly -carried on can scarcely fail to be profitable. Many a person -has received his first lesson in eloquence in such a school, -and the fluency and confidence a boy or young man can acquire -in them may be of life-long advantage. Their organization -may be very simple. A meeting has been called by -some one who is interested in the matter, and when the people -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>are met he calls them to order, nominates a chairman, -puts the question, and at the request of the chair explains -the object of the meeting. Some one then moves to appoint -a committee to draft a Constitution and By-laws. It is best -for the committee to have these previously prepared, that no -time may be lost. The following form, taken from “How to -Talk,” with a few modifications, will be all that is needed in -most cases:</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div>CONSTITUTION.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div><span class='sc'>Article I.</span>—<em>Name.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>This Society shall be known as the of </p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div><span class='sc'>Article II.</span>—<em>Objects.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>The object of this Society shall be the improvement of its Members in -debating, and the promotion of their intellectual, social, and moral advancement.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div><span class='sc'>Article III.</span>—<em>Membership.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>Any person of good moral character may become a member of this -Society, by signing the Constitution and paying the initiation fee. [In -some cases it may be necessary to receive Members by a vote of the -Society, after being regularly proposed.]</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div><span class='sc'>Article IV.</span>—<em>Officers and their Duties.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>The Officers of this Society shall consist of a President, a Vice-President, -a Secretary, and a Treasurer; each of whom shall be elected by -ballot, and their duties shall be the same as are generally required of -such officers in similar societies.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div><span class='sc'>Article V.</span>—<em>Amendments.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>No addition, alteration, or amendment shall be made to this Constitution -without a vote of two-thirds of the Members present, and no motion -to amend shall be acted upon at the same meeting at which it is proposed.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div>BY-LAWS.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div><span class='sc'>Article I.</span>—<em>Meetings.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Sec. 1.</span>—This Society shall meet on the of each -for the promotion of its objects and the transaction of business.</p> - -<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Sec. 2.</span>—There shall be an annual meeting on the of -for the election of Officers, and to hear the reports of the Secretary and -Treasurer.</p> - -<p class='c016'><span class='sc'>Sec. 3.</span>—Special meetings may be called by the President at the request -of Members.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span><span class='sc'>Article II.</span>—<em>Initiation Fee.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>All persons received into this Society shall pay the sum of -on signing the Constitution.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div><span class='sc'>Article III.</span>—<em>Dues.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>All Members shall pay the sum of per month, to be appropriated, -with the initiation fees, to defraying the expenses of the Society; -and no Member who may be in arrears for dues more than two -months shall be allowed to speak or vote on any question till such arrearages -shall be paid.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div><span class='sc'>Article IV.</span>—<em>Expulsions.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>Any Member who shall refuse to conform to the Constitution and -By-laws, or shall be guilty of repeated disorderly conduct, shall be subjected -to expulsion by a vote of two-thirds of the Members present; but -no motion to expel a Member shall be acted upon at the same meeting -at which it is offered.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c018'> - <div><span class='sc'>Article V.</span>—<em>Amendments.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>The same rule in reference to amendments shall apply to the By-laws -as to the Constitution.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Constitution when presented may be discussed, and -put to vote, altogether, or article by article; if adopted, it -becomes the law of the meeting. A list of members will -then be made out, including all who desire to be enrolled, -and are willing to pay the initiation fee. Then a new election -of officers should be held, with those only who are members -voting. The old chairman will retain his seat until the -new one is elected. When it is intended to have performances -of different kinds, as essays, orations, debates, etc., it is well -to appoint a committee to draw up a regular order in which -these will be called for. The society being now organized, -may proceed to business, or fix the time for next meeting -and adjourn.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>WARD, DISTRICT, OR TOWNSHIP MEETINGS.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>When one or more persons desire to call a meeting for any -purpose, there is often great confusion and uncertainty as to -the mode of procedure. A few simple rules will go far to -obviate all difficulty. In the call, those only who are favorable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>to the intended object should be invited, and if others -attend, they should take no part in the meeting, unless challenged -to discussion.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The responsibility for the guidance of the meeting until its -regular organization, rests on those who have called it. When -the people have met at the appointed time, one of these will -ask them to come to order, and will then nominate a chairman; -when this is seconded, he will put it to vote, and call -the man elected to the chair, who will put all other motions. -A secretary also should be elected, and then the meeting is -regularly organized. The chairman next states the object of -the meeting, or if he prefers, calls upon one of those interested -to do it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Some one will then move the appointment of a committee -(which is said to be the American panacea for everything) -to prepare resolutions expressive of the wishes or opinion of -the meeting. If the names of the persons to compose the -committee be not mentioned in the original motion, it is usual -for the chairman to name them, putting the name of the -mover first on the list. The chairman may, for good reasons, -excuse any one of the committee from acting, if there be no -objections on the part of the assembly. But if there are, he -can only be excused by vote. The committee then require -some time to make their report, and it is common for the -chairman to call on some one, who ought to be notified beforehand, -for a speech. When the committee have finished -their business they will return, and waiting until no one is -speaking, their chairman will address the chairman of the -meeting, telling him that they are ready to report. If no -objection is made, the resolutions prepared are then read, -and are at the disposal of the meeting. They may be treated -separately, or together, amended, adopted or rejected. The -resolutions may be prepared beforehand, in which case the -appointment of the committee may be dispensed with. If -the resolutions should not be satisfactory, they may be recommitted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the resolutions have been disposed of, the speaker -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>will announce that there is no business before the house, -which will either bring a motion to adjourn, or new business.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>DELEGATED BODIES.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>All legislatures, boards of directors, etc., hold their power -only in trust for others who are not present, and are therefore -held to stricter limitations in the performance of business -than those assemblies which act only for themselves. In case -the right of any delegate is disputed, this must be settled as -soon as possible. In nearly all such meetings it is also provided -that many things shall not be considered as determined -until referred back to those by whom the members were -chosen. With these exceptions, and the special rules that -such bodies may provide, they are under the strict government -of parliamentary law.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>CONTINUED MEETINGS.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>When any body holds sessions at intervals, it becomes -necessary to bear in mind what has been previously done. -This is accomplished by having the minutes of each meeting -read at the beginning of the next, and if any mistakes exist -they are corrected. This enables the assembly to take up -the business where it closed, and proceed as if there had been -no interruption. It is also well to have a certain order of -business fixed, which shall always suggest what is proper -to be done and prevent confusion. This order will necessarily -differ in the various kinds of meetings. Legislative -bodies, from the great variety of business brought before -them, can seldom fix on any order that can be followed from -day to day, but they often establish a regular order for a -certain time. Matthias suggested the following arrangement -for business meetings of bank directors, railway stockholders, -etc.:</p> - -<p class='c000'>1. Presenting communications from parties outside of the -meeting. A communication is read, and motions for action -on it may be made, amended, and passed or rejected. After -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>this has been done, or if no motion is made, the next communication -is taken up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. Reports of standing committees. The chairman will -call for these in their order, and each one, if prepared, will -be read by the chairman of the committee. It should close -with a resolution of some kind, and when it is moved and -seconded that this be adopted, it may be discussed and determined -as the assembly see fit. The minority of a committee -may make a separate report if they wish.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. Treasurer’s report.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. Unfinished business.</p> - -<p class='c000'>5. New business.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span> - <h3 class='c001'>II.<br /> GENERAL RULES OF ORDER.<br /> <span class='large'>QUORUM—RULES—DECISION.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c007'>1. In bodies which have a fixed number of members, a certain -proportion most be present to make the transaction of -business valid. The number may be fixed by the expression -of the assembly, or its general custom. In the absence of any -other rule, a majority is sufficient. The chairman should not -take his seat until he sees that a quorum is present, and if -the assembly is at any time reduced below this number, nothing -but adjournment is in order.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. The assembly may make its own rules in whole or in -part, but whatever it does not determine, shall be subject to -the common rules of order.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Any member has a right to insist on the enforcement of -the rules, but this duty belongs especially to the chair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. In the absence of any special rule, the consent of a majority -of the members voting is requisite to determine any -point. A plurality, where more than two issues are presented, -is not sufficient.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>OFFICERS.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Presiding and recording officers are necessary in every -meeting, and must be chosen by an absolute majority. When -the assembly has financial matters to manage, a treasurer -must also be elected.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>PRESIDING OFFICER.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>This officer is known by various titles, such as chairman, -president, speaker, moderator, etc. We will use the first. -The chairman represents the assembly, declares its will, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>obeys it implicitly. He must be treated with great respect, -although his power is only a delegated one, and may be set -aside by the declared will of the assembly. His principal -duties are:</p> - -<p class='c000'>1. To begin the session by taking the chair and calling the -members to order.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. To announce business in its order.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. To submit all motions and propositions.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. To put all questions and announce the result.</p> - -<p class='c000'>6. To restrain members within rules of order.</p> - -<p class='c000'>6. To receive all communications and announce them to -the assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>7. To sign public documents.</p> - -<p class='c000'>8. To decide points of order, subject to an appeal to the -assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The chairman should fully understand all the rules of business, -be kind and courteous to all, but prompt and firm, for -on him, more than any other, the order and harmony of every -meeting depends.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the absence of the chairman, the vice-president takes -the chair, and when there is no such officer, a temporary -chairman must be elected.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The chairman may read while sitting, but should rise to -state a question or take a vote.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>RECORDING OFFICER.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Secretary or clerk is the name usually bestowed on this -officer. We will employ the first. It is his duty to keep a -true record of all that is done in the assembly. Speeches -and motions that do not prevail, need not be recorded. But -it is sometimes customary, when it is intended to publish -the proceedings, and no reporter is present, for the secretary -to make the minutes take the form of a journal.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. The secretary must keep all papers that belong to the -society in safety; read them when ordered; call the roll; -notify committees of their appointment and business; and -sign all orders and proceedings of the assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>3. A temporary secretary must be elected during the absence -of the permanent one, unless there is an assistant to -take his place.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. The secretary should always stand in reading, or calling -the roll.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>MEMBERS.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>1. All members are on a footing of absolute equality, and -in every form of business the same courtesy and attention -should be shown to each one by the chair and by all other -members.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. Every member is expected to observe strict decorum in -his behavior. Standing, walking about, interrupting speakers, -hissing, whispering, taking books or papers from the -speaker’s table, are all breaches of decorum.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. Any member accused of disorderly behavior may, when -the charge is stated, be heard in his own behalf, and is then -required to withdraw, until the assembly decides as to his -guilt and punishment. He may be reprimanded, required to -apologize, or expelled.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>MOTIONS.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>1. Business can only be introduced into an assembly by a -motion. Persons, not members, may make communications, -or send petitions asking for the doing of certain things; but -these must be taken by one of the members, and by him read -or presented to the assembly. It is then before the body for -consideration, but nothing can be done with it until a motion -is made by some one belonging to the assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. An assembly expresses its opinion by a resolution, commands -by an order, and determines its own action by a vote. -A member who wishes to secure either of these, draws it up -in the form he desires it to bear, and moves that the assembly -adopt what he proposes. He must first obtain the floor. -This is done by rising and addressing the chairman by his -title. If there be no previous claimant, the chairman responds -by mentioning the speaker’s name, when he is at liberty -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>to go on. When he has made his motion, another member -must second it before the assembly will receive it or pay any -attention to it. The chair or any member may insist on the -motion being written, unless it is one of the kind that have a -certain form, such as to adjourn, etc. The motion when seconded, -is to be stated by the chair, when it becomes the property -of the assembly, and is ready for debate or such other -action as may be preferred. Suggestions and modifications -of the motion may be made, or it may be withdrawn altogether, -before this; but not after, without leave of the assembly -formally expressed. No other motion, with some exceptions -to be hereafter explained, can be entertained until the -first is disposed of.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When a motion is made the assembly may do one of five -things with it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>1. Decide it in the shape it then has.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. Suppress all consideration of it or action on it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. Postpone it until a future time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. Refer it to a committee to be put in a better form.</p> - -<p class='c000'>5. Amend it themselves before deciding it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We will consider these different ways of treating a question -in their order.</p> - -<h5 class='c014'>1.—DECISION.</h5> - -<p class='c015'>It is always to be taken for granted that the assembly is -willing to decide a motion at once, unless some one moves to -adopt one of the other courses. It may be repeated first, and -when no one rises, the chair asks if they are ready for the -question; if no one responds, it is put to vote.</p> - -<h5 class='c014'>2.—SUPPRESSION.</h5> - -<p class='c015'>1. Sometimes the assembly does not wish to discuss a motion -at all. In that case a member may move that it be indefinitely -postponed. If this is debated, the matter remains -as it was before. If it prevails, the matter is ended, and can -only be brought up as a new question.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. The motion to lay a subject on the table has nearly the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>same effect. If it prevails, the subject cannot be taken up -without a motion to that effect.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. The famous “previous question” has a totally different -purpose in this country and England. There it is used to -postpone a question. Its form is, “Shall the main question -now be put?” and it is moved by those who wish to obtain -a negative decision, the effect of which is to remove the question -from before the house for that day, and by usage for the -whole session.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. In this country it is used to prevent debate, and is only -moved by those who wish an affirmative decision. When -this is carried the question must be voted upon without -further remarks. A majority ought to use this power of -stopping debate very sparingly, and never without good -reason.</p> - -<h5 class='c014'>3.—POSTPONEMENT.</h5> - -<p class='c015'>If the assembly is not prepared to act upon a question, or -has more important business before it, the proper course is -for some one to move that it be postponed until a certain -time. If no time is fixed the question is suppressed altogether. -If the assembly is dissolved before the appointed -day, the effect is the same.</p> - -<h5 class='c014'>4.—COMMITMENT.</h5> - -<p class='c015'>If the form of the motion is crude, it may be given into the -hands of a committee to perfect. If it first came from a committee, -it may be given back to them, which is called a recommitment. -The whole or a part of a subject may be -committed, and the assembly may, by vote, give such instructions -as it desires. This motion is sometimes made use of -for the purpose of procuring further information.</p> - -<h5 class='c014'>5.—AMENDMENT.</h5> - -<p class='c015'>The assembly may alter, increase, or diminish any proposition -at its pleasure. Its nature is often changed entirely.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>1. Every complicated question may be divided by a regular -vote. This is usually done, if no objection is offered, -without a vote, but it cannot be required by a single member -as is sometimes stated. A motion to divide should specify -the manner of division.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. If blanks are left in resolutions, these must be filled by -motion. If these embrace figures, and several numbers are -proposed, that which includes the others may be put to vote -first. But it is usually as well to put first that which is -moved first.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. All motions to amend, except by division, must be to -amend by inserting or adding, or by striking out, or both.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. An amendment may be accepted by the mover of a resolution, -if no objection is made, for then general consent is -presumed; but not otherwise.</p> - -<p class='c000'>5. It is strict parliamentary law to begin with the beginning -of a proposition, and after the latter part is amended, -not to return to a former part; but this is seldom insisted on -in common societies.</p> - -<p class='c000'>6. Every amendment is susceptible of amendment, but this -can go no further. But the second amendment may be defeated, -and then a new one made to the principal amendment.</p> - -<p class='c000'>7. Whatever is agreed to, or disagreed to by the acceptance -or rejection of an amendment cannot again be changed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>8. What is struck out cannot be inserted by another -amendment, unless with such additions as to make it a new -question. Neither can what is retained be changed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>9. Before putting the question on an amendment, the passage -should be read as it was; then the amendment; lastly -the passage as amended.</p> - -<p class='c000'>10. A paragraph that is inserted by vote Cannot be changed, -but it may be amended before the question is put.</p> - -<p class='c000'>11. When the amendment is both to strike out and insert, -these two may be divided by vote or general consent, and -then the question is taken first on striking out.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span> - <h4 class='c014'>PREFERRED MOTIONS.</h4> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>When a motion is before the assembly, it must be disposed -of before anything else can be brought forward, with the -exception of three classes of questions. These are privileged, -incidental, and subsidiary questions.</p> - -<h5 class='c014'>1.—PRIVILEGED QUESTIONS.</h5> - -<p class='c015'>1. The motion to adjourn takes precedence of every other, -except when it has been moved and defeated, when it shall -not be moved again until something else has been done. It -cannot be moved while a member is speaking, or a vote being -taken. But to be entitled to such precedence, it must be a -simple motion to adjourn, without question of time or place. -If these are added, it must take its regular turn. An adjournment -without any time being fixed, is equivalent to a dissolution, -unless this has been provided for by custom or especial -rule. At adjournment every pending question is taken from -before the assembly, and can only be brought up again in -the regular way.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. Any question affecting the rights and privileges of -members, as in quarreling, the intrusion of strangers, etc., -comes next in order to adjournment, and displaces everything -else.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. If the assembly fix on an order of business for a certain -time, when that time arrives, a motion to take up this order -has precedence of all questions, but the two preceding.</p> - -<h5 class='c014'>2.—INCIDENTAL QUESTIONS.</h5> - -<p class='c015'>Incidental questions are those that grow out of other questions, -and must be decided before them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>1. Questions of order. If there is a breach of rules it is -the duty of the chair to enforce them, and any member to -call for their enforcement. This should be done at once. -When there is a doubt as to what constitutes a breach of -the rules, it is first decided by the chair, subject to an appeal -to the assembly, which may be put in this form, “Shall the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>decision of the chair stand as the decision of the assembly?” -On this the chair may debate as well as others, but the vote -is final.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. When papers are laid on the secretary’s table for the -information of the assembly, any member may demand to -have them read; but other papers can only be read after a -regular motion is carried to that effect.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. After a motion is stated by the chair, permission may -be given to withdraw it by a regular vote.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. A rule that interferes with the transaction of any business -may be suspended by a unanimous vote, or in accordance -with the provisions of a special rule which points out -the majority requisite, such as two-thirds, three-fourths, etc.</p> - -<h5 class='c014'>3.—SUBSIDIARY QUESTIONS.</h5> - -<p class='c015'>These relate to the principal question as secondary planets -do to their primaries. They are of different degrees among -themselves, and with a few exceptions are not applied to one -another.</p> - -<p class='c000'>1. “Lie on the table.” This takes precedence of all the -subsidiary motions. If carried, it takes the principal question -and all that belongs to it from the consideration of the -assembly, and they can only be brought up by a new motion. -If decided in the negative, this question, like all the -others of the same class, except the previous question, has no -effect whatever.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. “Previous question.” This motion can only be superseded -by that to lay on the table. If lost, the question is -not before the house for the remainder of that day.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. A motion to postpone may be amended by fixing the -time or changing it. If several days are mentioned, the -longest time should be put first.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. A motion to commit takes precedence of a motion to -amend, but stands in the same rank with the others, except -to lay on the table, and cannot be superseded by them, if -moved first.</p> - -<p class='c000'>5. A motion to amend may be amended. It is not superseded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>by the previous question, or a motion for indefinite -postponement, but is by a motion to postpone till a time certain, -or to commit.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is very important that the order of these secondary questions -be carefully observed, as there may be many of them -pending at once.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>DEBATE.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Debate in a society organized for the purpose of discussion, -and in a deliberative body are quite different. In the former -reply is expected, and may be bandied back and forth several -times. In the latter the object is supposed to be giving information, -and each member is limited to one speech, unless -special permission is received to speak again. The chair -must not take part in debates.</p> - -<p class='c000'>1. When a member wishes to speak, he obtains the floor -in the same manner as if to offer a motion. The mover of a -resolution is usually allowed the floor first, but this is a matter -of courtesy rather than right.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. When a speaker gives up the floor for any purpose, he -loses his right to it, though as a favor he is often allowed -to continue his speech.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. No names are to be used in debate, but when it becomes -necessary to designate an individual, some description may -be used, as, the gentleman on the right, etc.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. Every member must stand, when speaking, unless sick -or disabled.</p> - -<p class='c000'>5. Motions to adjourn, to lay on the table, for the previous -question, or the order of the day cannot be debated.</p> - -<p class='c000'>6. No member shall use abusive language against any of -the acts of the assembly, or indulge in personal denunciations -of other members. Wrong motives must not be attributed -to any one. If a speaker digresses widely from the subject, -and appears to misunderstand its nature, he may be called -to order.</p> - -<p class='c000'>7. A member who is decided to be out of order loses his -right to the floor, but this is seldom insisted on.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>8. A member cannot speak more than once on the same -question without special permission, which must not be given -until all have spoken; but he may speak on amendments, and -on the same subject, when it is returned from a committee.<a id='t216'></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>10. A member who has been misrepresented has the right -to explain, but not to interrupt any one who is speaking for -that purpose.</p> - -<p class='c000'>11. Debate may be stopped by the previous question; by -determining in advance that at a certain time, the question -shall be decided; or by adopting a rule limiting each member -to so many minutes. In the latter case, the chair announces -the expiration of the time, and the member takes -his seat.</p> - -<p class='c000'>12. Every member should be listened to with respect, and -no attempt made to interrupt him, unless he transgress the -bounds of order. Calling for the question, hissing, coughing, -etc., should be restrained by the chair if possible. The -speaker may learn from these things that the assembly does -not wish to hear him, but he is not bound to heed them. If -necessary, the chair will name the obstinate offenders for -punishment, who may be heard in their own defence, but -must then withdraw while the assembly determines what -punishment should be inflicted. But if all means of preserving -order fail, and the chairman’s repeated calls are unnoticed, -he is not responsible for this disorder, although it -would be better then to resign an office that he can no longer -make respected, unless so bound by public duty that he cannot -take this course.</p> - -<p class='c000'>13. If a member in speaking makes use of disorderly words, -notice should be taken at once. The words used, if the -offence is serious, should be reduced to writing while fresh -in the memory of all. If necessary, the assembly may determine -what words were used, whether they were offensive or -not, and at its pleasure require an apology, censure, or expel -the offender. If other business is done before attention -is called to the disorderly words, they cannot again be -taken up.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span> - <h4 class='c014'>PUTTING THE QUESTION.</h4> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>When discussion and all preliminary matters are finished, -the next step is to ascertain the will of the assembly. There -are six ways of doing this. We will put first those that are -most used:</p> - -<p class='c000'>1. The chair asks, “Are you ready for the question?” No -objection being made, he first puts the affirmative, asking -those who favor the motion to say, “Aye;” those who are -opposed, “No.” He judges from the volume of sound, and -declares which he believes has the majority. If any one -doubts this, he may require the vote to be taken in a more -exact way.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. In place of saying “aye,” the affirmative may be asked -to hold up their hands; then when these are down the same -is asked of the negative. The determination in this case is -the same as in the former case.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. The affirmative may be required to rise to their feet and -be counted; and when seated the negative will rise. These -will also be counted, and this is the mode most commonly resorted -to, when the result as declared by the chair, from the -former methods, is doubted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. In this the affirmative and negative may stand up at -once, but in different parts of the house, and be counted. -This is a real “division.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>5. The method by ballot may be employed; each man -writing his wish on a ticket. These are collected and counted. -This mode is often employed in the election of officers, but -seldom in the determination of simple questions.</p> - -<p class='c000'>6. The roll may be called by the secretary, and each man -in his place answer, “Aye,” or “No.” These are marked by -the secretary, and others who keep tally, and the result announced. -Sometimes the names are entered on the journals, -in two lists of “Aye” and “No.” The word “Yea,” is often -used in place of “Aye.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The chair has a casting vote in case of equal division.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A member who voted with the affirmative may move the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>reconsideration of any question, and if his motion is carried, -the whole matter is opened up as it was at first, and may be -discussed as before.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>COMMITTEES.</h4> - -<p class='c015'>The use of a committee is to give a subject more careful -consideration than it could receive in a full assembly. They -are of three kinds. From their great importance they are -said to be the eyes and ears of the assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>1. Standing committees are those that are appointed to -take charge of all subjects of a certain character during a -session, or other specified time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. Select committees are appointed to take charge of some -one thing, and when that is finished they are dissolved, although -they may be revived again by a vote of the assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In appointing a committee, the first thing is to fix on a -number: if several are named, the largest should be put first. -The committees may be chosen by ballot; appointed by the -chair; or elected by nomination and vote. The latter is the -regular mode when there is no special rule, but the second is -most frequently practised. Sometimes a committee is appointed -to nominate all other committees, but this is not -usually the case. The mover and seconder of a resolution -should have place on a committee appointed to consider it, -and, as a general rule, none but those who are friendly to the -object to be accomplished should be appointed. Those opposed -can make their opposition when it is returned to the -assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is the duty of the secretary of the assembly to make out -a list of the members of a committee, and hand to the person -first named on it, who is its chairman, unless the committee -shall choose to elect another.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The assembly can fix the times and places of the meeting -of a committee; if this is not done, it can choose for itself, -but cannot sit while the assembly is in session without a -special order.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In all forms of procedure the committee is governed by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>the same rules as the assembly, but a little less strictness is -observed in their enforcement.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Disorderly conduct in a committee can only be noted down -and reported to the assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When any paper has been referred to a committee, it must -be returned as it was, with proposed amendments written -separately. They cannot reject any matter, but can return -it to the assembly without change, stating their reasons for -taking no action.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When a committee is prepared to report, its chairman -announces the fact, and he, or an other member, may make -a motion that the report be received at that, or some other -specified time. If nothing is said, it is assumed that the assembly -is ready to receive it immediately.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At the time fixed, the chairman reads the report, and passes -it, with all the papers belonging to it, to the secretary’s table, -where it awaits the action of the assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Any report from a committee may be treated by amendment, -etc., just as if it originated in the assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The final question is on the adoption of the report; if this -is agreed to, it stands as the action of the whole assembly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>3. The third form of committee is the “committee of the -whole.” It embraces the entire assembly. When the assembly -wishes to go into committee, a motion to that effect is -made, seconded, and put; if carried, the chairman nominates -a person as chairman of the committee, who takes his seat at -the secretary’s table. The chairman of the assembly must -remain at hand in readiness to resume his seat when the -committee shall rise. The secretary does not record the proceedings -of the committee, but only their report. A special -secretary must be appointed for their use.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The following are the main points of difference between -the “committee of the whole” and the assembly:</p> - -<p class='c000'>1. The previous question cannot be moved, but the committee -may rise and thus stop debate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>2. The committee cannot adjourn; it may rise, report -progress, and ask leave to sit again.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>3. In committee a member may speak as often as he can -get the floor; in the assembly, but once.</p> - -<p class='c000'>4. The committee cannot refer a matter to another committee.</p> - -<p class='c000'>5. The chairman of the assembly can take part in committee -proceedings.</p> - -<p class='c000'>6. The committee has no power to punish its members, but -can report them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the committee is prepared to close, a motion is -made and seconded that it rise; if carried, the chairman -leaves his seat, the chairman of the assembly takes his usual -place, and the committee report is given in the same form as -from a special committee.</p> - -<hr class='c019' /> - -<p class='c000'>This brief synopsis has been compiled from various sources. -The excellent manuals of Cushing and Matthias have been -especially consulted. It is believed to embrace all that is -essential for conducting business in ordinary assemblies. -The man who masters these simple rules, which may be done -in a few hours, is prepared to assist in the performance of -any public business, and if called upon to act as chairman, -as any one may be, he will be free from embarrassment.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>Sent Prepaid by Post at Prices Annexed.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>A LIST OF WORKS</div> - <div>PUBLISHED BY</div> - <div>SAMUEL R. WELLS, No. 389 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class='c020' /> - -<div class='ph3'> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>STANDARD WORKS ON PHRENOLOGY.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='c021'><strong>American Phrenological Journal and Life Illustrated.</strong>—Devoted -to Ethnology. Physiology, Phrenology, Physiognomy, Psychology, Sociology, Biography, -Education, Art, Literature, with Measures to Reform, Elevate and Improve -Mankind Physically, Mentally and Spiritually. Edited by <span class='sc'>S. R. Wells</span>. Published -monthly, in quarto form, at $3 a year, or 30 cents a number. It may be -termed the standard authority in all matters pertaining to Phrenology and the -Science of Man. It is beautifully illustrated. See Prospectus.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Constitution of Man</strong>; Considered in Relation to External Objects. -By <span class='sc'>George Combe</span>. The only authorized American Edition. With Twenty Engravings, -and a Portrait of the Author. 12mo. 436 pp. Muslin. Price, $1 75.</p> - -<p class='c022'>The “Constitution of Man” is a work with which every teacher and every pupil -should be acquainted. It contains a perfect mine of sound wisdom and enlightened -philosophy; and a faithful study of its invaluable lessons would save many a promising -youth from a premature grave.—<cite>Journal of Education, Albany, N. Y.</cite></p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Defence of Phrenology</strong>; Containing an Essay on the Nature and -Value of Phrenological Evidence: A Vindication of Phrenology against the Attack -of its opponents, and a View of the Facts relied on by Phrenologists as proof -that the Cerebellum is the seat of the reproductive instinct. By <span class='sc'>Andrew Boardman</span>, -M. D. 12mo, 222 pp. Muslin. Price, $1 50.</p> - -<p class='c022'>These Essays are a refutation of attacks on Phrenology, including “Select Discourses -on the Functions of the Nervous System, in Opposition to Phrenology, Materialism -and Atheism.” One of the best defences of Phrenology ever written.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Education</strong>: Its Elementary Principles founded on the Nature of Man. -By <span class='sc'>J. G. Spurzheim</span>, M. D. With an Appendix by <span class='sc'>S. R. Wells</span>, containing a -Description of the Tem craments, and a Brief Analysis of the Phrenological -Faculties. Twelfth American Edition 1 vol. 12mo. 334 pp. Illustrated. Price, -$1 50.</p> - -<p class='c022'>It is full of sound doctrine and practical wisdom. Every page is pregnant with instruction -of solemn import; and we would that it were the text-book, the great and -sovereign guide, of every male and female in the country with whom rests the responsibility -of rearing or educating a child.—<cite>Boston Medical and Surgical Journal.</cite></p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Education and Self-Improvement Complete</strong>; Comprising “Physiology—Animal -and Mental”—“Self-Culture and Perfection of Character,” -“Memory and Intellectual Improvement.” One large vol. Illus. Muslin, $4.</p> - -<p class='c022'>This book comprises the whole of Mr. Fowler’s series of popular works on the -application of Phrenology to “Education and Self-Improvement.”</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Lectures on Phrenology.</strong>—By <span class='sc'>George Combe</span>. With Notes. An -Essay on the Phrenological Mode of Investigation, and an Historical Sketch. By -<span class='sc'>Andrew Boardman</span>, M. D. 1 vol. 12mo, 391 pages. Muslin, $1 75.</p> - -<p class='c022'>These are the reported lectures on Phrenology delivered by George Combe in America -in 1839, and have been approved as to their essential correctness by the author. The -work includes the application of Phrenology to the present and prospective condition -of the United States, and constitutes a course of Phrenological instruction.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Matrimony</strong>; Or, Phrenology and Physiology applied to the Selection -of Congenial Companions for Life, including Directions to the Married for living -together Affectionately and Happily. Thirty-Fourth Edition. Price, 50 cents.</p> - -<p class='c022'>A scientific expositor of the laws of man’s social and matrimonial constitution: -exposing the evils of their violation, showing what organizations and phrenological -developments naturally assimilate and harmonize.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Memory and Intellectual Improvement</strong>, applied to Self-Educational -and Juvenile Instruction. Twenty-Fifth Edition. 12mo. Muslin, $1 50.</p> - -<p class='c022'>This is the third and last of Mr. Fowler’s series of popular works on the application -of Phrenology to “Education and Self-Improvement.” This volume is devoted -to the education and development of the Intellect; how to cultivate the Memory; the -education of the young; and embodies directions as to how we may educate <span class='fss'>OURSELVES</span>.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Mental Science.</strong> Lectures on, according to the Philosophy of Phrenology. -Delivered before the Anthropological Society of the Western Liberal Institute -of Marietta, Ohio. By Rev. <span class='sc'>G. S. Weaver</span>. 12mo, 235 pp. Illustrated, $1 50.</p> - -<p class='c022'>This is a most valuable acquisition to phrenological literature. It is instructive and -beneficial, and should be made accessible to all youth. Its philosophy is the precept -of the human soul’s wisdom. Its morality is obedience to all divine law, written or -unwritten. Its religion is the spirit-utterings of devout and faithful love. It aims at -and contemplates humanity’s good—the union of the human with the divine.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Phrenology Proved, Illustrated and Applied</strong>; Embracing an analysis -of the Primary Mental Powers in their Various Degrees of Development, and -location of the Phrenological Organs. Presenting some new and important remarks -on the Temperaments, describing the Organs in Seven Different Degrees -of Development: the mental phenomena produced by their combined action, and -the location of the faculties, amply illustrated. By the Brothers <span class='sc'>Fowler</span>. Sixty-Second -Edition. Enlarged and Improved. 12mo, 492 pp. Muslin, $1 75.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Self-Culture and Perfection of Character</strong>; Including the Management -of Children and Youth. 1 vol. 12mo, 312 pp. Muslin, $1 75.</p> - -<p class='c022'>This is the second work in the series of Mr. Fowler’s “Education and Self-Improvement -Complete.” “Self-made or never made,” is the motto of the work which -is devoted to moral improvement, or the proper cultivation and regulation of the affections -and moral sentiments.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Self-Instructor in Phrenology and Physiology.</strong> New Illustrated. -With over One Hundred Engravings, together with a Chart for the Recording of -Phrenological Developments, for the use of Phrenologists. By the Brothers <span class='sc'>Fowler</span>. -Muslin, 75 cents; Paper, 50 cents.</p> - -<p class='c022'>This is intended as a text-book, and is especially adapted to phrenological examiners, -to be used as a chart, and for learners, in connection with the “Phrenological Bust.”</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Moral Philosophy.</strong> By <span class='sc'>George Combe</span>. Or, the Duties of Man considered -in his Individual, Domestic and Social Capacities. Reprinted from the -Edinburgh Edition. With the Author’s latest corrections. 1 vol. 12mo, 884 pp. -Muslin, $1 75.</p> - -<p class='c022'>This work appears in the form of Lectures delivered by the Author to an association -formed by the industrious classes of Edinburgh; they created at the time considerable -excitement. The course consisted of twenty consecutive lectures on Moral Philosophy, -and are invaluable to students of Phrenology, Lecturers on Morality and the -Natural Laws of Man. Address, <span class='sc'>Samuel R. Wells</span>, No. 389 Broadway, New York.</p> - -<div class='ph3'> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><span class='sc'>Miscellaneous Works on Phrenology.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Annuals of Phrenology and Physiognomy.</strong>—By <span class='sc'>S. R. Wells</span>, Editor -of the Phrenological Journal. One small yearly 12mo volume. For 1865, ‘66, -‘67 and ‘68. The four, containing over 200 illustrations, for 60 cts. For 1867, one -small 12mo vol., 58 pp. Containing many portraits and biographies of distinguished -personages, together with articles on “How to Study Phrenology,” -“Bashfulness, Diffidence, Stammering,” etc., 20 cents. For 1868, 12mo, 70 pp. -Containing an elaborate article on “The Marriage of Cousins,” etc., etc., 25 cents.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Charts for Recording the Various Phrenological Developments.</strong>—Designed -for Phrenologists. By the Brothers <span class='sc'>Fowler</span>. Price, only 10 cents.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Chart of Physiognomy Illustrated.</strong>—Designed for Framing, and for -Lecturers. By <span class='sc'>S. R. Wells</span>, Author of New Physiognomy. In map Form. Printed -on fine paper. A good thing for learners. Price, 85 cents.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Domestic Life, Thoughts On</strong>; Or, Marriage Vindicated and Free -Love Exposed. By <span class='sc'>Nelson Sizer</span>. 12mo, 72 pp. Paper, 25 cents.</p> - -<p class='c022'>This is a work consisting of three valuable lectures, part of an extended course -delivered in the city of Washington. The favor with which they were received, and -the numerous requests for their publication, resulted in the present work.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Phrenology and the Scriptures.</strong>—Showing the Harmony existing -between Phrenology and the Bible. By Rev. <span class='sc'>John Pierpont</span>. Price 25 cents.</p> - -<p class='c022'>“A full explanation of many passages of Scripture.”—<cite>New York Mirror.</cite></p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Phrenological Guide.</strong>—Designed for Students of their own Character. -Twenty-Fifth Edition. Illustrated. 12mo, 54 pp. Paper, 25 cents.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Phrenological Specimens</strong>; For Societies and Private Cabinets. For -Lecturers; including Casts of the Heads of most remarkable men of history. -See our Descriptive Catalogue. Forty casts, not mailable, $35.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Phrenological Bust.</strong>—Showing the latest classification, and exact location -of the Organs of the Brain, fully developed, designed for Learners. In this -Bust, all the newly-discovered Organs are given. It is divided so as to show each -individual Organ on one side; and all the groups—Social, Executive, Intellectual, -and moral—property classified, on the other side. It is now extensively used in -England, Scotland and Ireland, and on the Continent of Europe, and is almost the -only one in use here. There are two sizes—the largest near the size of life—is -sold In Box, at $1 75. The smaller, which is not more than six inches high, and -may be carried in the pocket, is only 75 cents. Not mailable.</p> - -<p class='c021'><strong>Phrenology at Home.</strong>—How can I learn Phrenology? What books -are best for me to read? Is it possible to acquire a knowledge of it without a -teacher? These are questions put to us daily; and we may say in reply, that we -have arranged a series of the best works, with a Bust, showing the exact location -of all the Phrenological Organs, with such Illustrations and Definitions as to make -the study simple and plain without the aid of a teacher. The cost for this “Student’s -Set,” which embraces all that is requisite, is only $10. It may be sent by -express, or as freight, safely boxed—not by mail—to any part of the world.</p> - -<p class='c021'>“<strong>Mirror of the Mind</strong>;” Or, Your Character from your Likeness. -For particulars how to have pictures taken, inclose a prepaid envelope, directed to -yourself, for answer. Address, <span class='sc'>Samuel R. Wells</span>, No. 389 Broadway, New York.</p> - -<div class='ph3'> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><span class='sc'>Standard Work on Physiognomy.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='c021'><strong>New Physiognomy</strong>; Or, Signs of Character, as manifested through -Temperament and External Forms, and especially in the “Human Face Divine.” -With more than One Thousand Illustrations. By <span class='sc'>S. R. Wells</span>. In three styles of -binding. Price, in one 12mo volume, 708 pp., handsomely bound in muslin, $5; -in heavy calf, marbled edges, $8; Turkey morocco, full gilt, $10.</p> - -<p class='c022'>This work systematizes and shows the scientific basis on which each claim rests. The -“Signs of Character” are minutely elucidated, and so plainly stated as to render them -available. The scope of the work is very broad, and the treatment of the subject -thorough, and, so far as possible, exhaustive. 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