He is

in enforcing them. The preacher has also great advantages in treating his subjects. He speaks not to one or a few judges, but to a large assembly. secure from all interruption. He is obliged to no replies or extemporaneous efforts. He chooses his theme at leisure, and comes to the public with all the assistance which the most accurate premeditation can give him.

But, together with these advantages, there are also peculiar difficulties that attend the eloquence of the pulpit. The preacher, it is true, has no trouble in contending with an adversary; but then, debate and contention enliven genius and procure attention. The pulpit orator is, perhaps, in too quiet possession of his field. His subjects of discourse are, in themselves, noble and important; but they are subjects trite and familiar. They have, for ages, employed so many speakers, and so many pens; the public ear is so much accustomed to them, that it requires more than an ordinary power of genius to fix attention. Nothing within the reach of art is more difficult than to bestow, on what is common, the grace of novelty. No sort of composition whatever is such a trial of skill, as where the merit of it lies wholly in the execution; not in giving any information that is new, not in convincing men of what they did not believe; but in dressing truths which they knew, and of which they were before convinced, in such colors as may most forcibly affect their imagination and heart. It is to be considered, too, that the subject of the preacher generally confines him to abstract qualities, to virtues and vices; whereas, that of other popular speakers leads them to treat of persons,— which is a subject that commonly interests the hearers more, and takes faster hold of the imagination. The preacher's business is solely to make you detest the crime; the pleader's, to make you detest the criminal. He describes a living person, and with more facility rouses your indignation. From these causes it comes to pass that though we have a great number of moderately good preachers, we have so few that are singularly eminent. We are still far from perfection in the art of preaching, and perhaps there are few things in which it is more difficult to excel. The object, however, is noble, and worthy, upon many accounts, of being pursued with zeal.

It may perhaps occur to some, that preaching is no proper subject of the art of eloquence. This, it may be said, belongs only to human studies and inventions; but the truths of religion, with the greater simplicity, and the less mixture of art they are set forth, are likely to prove the more successful. This objection would have weight, if eloquence were as the persons who make such an objection commonly take it to be, an ostentatious and deceitful art, the study of words and of plausibility, only calculated to please, and to tickle the ear. But against this idea of eloquence I have all along guarded. True eloquence is the art of placing truth in the most advantageous light for conviction and persuasion. This is what every good man who preaches the gospel not only may, but ought to have at heart. It is most intimately connected with the success of his ministry; and were it needful, as assuredly it is not, to reason any further on this head, we might refer to the discourses of the prophets and Apostles, as models of the most sublime and persuasive eloquence, adapted both to the imagination and the passions of men.

An essential requisite in order to preach well is to have a just, and at the same time, a fixed and habitual view of the end of preaching. For in no art can any man execute well who has not a just idea of the end and object of that art. The end of all preaching is to persuade men to become good. Every sermon, therefore, should be a persuasive oration. Not but that the preacher is to instruct and to teach, to reason and argue. All persuasion, as I showed formerly, is to be founded on conviction. The understanding must always be applied to in the first place in order to make a lasting impression on the heart; and he who would work on

men's passions, or influence their practice, without first giving them just principles and enlightening their minds is no better than a mere declaimer. He may raise transient emotions, or kindle a passing ardor, but can produce no solid or lasting effect. At the same time it must be remembered that all the preacher's instructions are to be of the practical kind, and that persuasion must ever be his ultimate object. It is not to discuss some abstruse point that he ascends the pulpit; it is not to illustrate some metaphysical truth, or to inform men of something which they never heard before; but it is to make them better men; it is to give them, at once, clear views and persuasive impressions of religious truth. The eloquence of the pulpit, then, must be popular eloquence. One of the first qualities of preaching is to be popular; not in the sense of accommodation to the humors and prejudices of the people (which tends only to make a preacher contemptible), but, in the true sense of the word, calculated to make impression on the people; to strike and seize their hearts. I scruple not, therefore, to assert that the abstract and philosophical manner of preaching, however it may have sometimes been admired, is formed upon a very faulty idea, and deviates widely from the just plan of pulpit eloquence. Rational, indeed, a preacher ought always to be; he must give his audience clear ideas on every subject and entertain them with sense, not with sound; but to be an accurate reasoner will be small praise if he be not a persuasive speaker also.

The chief characteristics of the eloquence suited to the pulpit, as distinguished from the other kinds of public speaking, appear to me to be these two, gravity and warmth. The serious nature of the subjects belonging to the pulpit requires gravity; their importance to mankind requires warmth. It is far from being either easy or common to unite these characters of eloquence. The grave, when it is predominant, is apt to run into a dull uniform solemnity. The warm, when it wants gravity, borders on the theatrical and light. The union of the two must be studied by all preachers as of the utmost consequence, both in the composition of their discourses and in their manner of delivery. Gravity and warmth united form that character of preaching which the French call "onction»; the affecting, penetrating, interesting manner, flowing from a strong sensibility of heart in the preacher to the importance of those truths which he delivers, and an earnest desire that they make full impression on the hearts of his hearers.

In a sermon, no points or conceits should appear, no affected smartness and quaintness of expression. These derogate much from the dignity of the pulpit, and give to a preacher the air of foppishness, which he ought, above all things, to shun. It is rather a strong, expressive style, than a sparkling one, that is to be studied. But we must beware of imagining that we render style strong or expressive by a constant and multiplied use of epithets. This is a great error. Epithets have often great beauty and force. But if we introduce them into every sentence, and string many of them together to one object, in place of strengthening, we clog and enfeeble style; in place of illustrating the image, we render it confused and indistinct. He that tells me "of this perishing, mutable, and transitory world," by all these three epithets does not give me so strong an idea of what he would convey as if he had used one of them with propriety. I conclude this head with an advice never to have what may be called a favorite expression, for it shows affectation and becomes disgusting. Let not any expression which is remarkable for its lustre or beauty occur twice in the same discourse. The repetition of it betrays a fondness to shine, and, at the same time, carries the appearance of a barren invention.

As to the question whether it be most proper to write sermons fully and commit them accurately to memory, or to study only the matter and thoughts and

trust the expression, in part, at least, to the delivery, I am of opinion that no universal rule can here be given. The choice of either of these methods must be left to preachers, according to their different genius. The expressions which come warm and glowing from the mind, during the fervor of pronunciation, will often have a superior grace and energy to those which are studied in the retirement of the closet. But then this fluency and power of expression cannot, at all times, be depended upon, even by those of the readiest genius; and by many, can at no time be commanded, when overawed by the presence of an audience. It is proper, therefore, to begin, at least, the practice of preaching with writing as accurately as possible. This is absolutely necessary in the beginning, in order to acquire the power and habit of correct speaking, nay, also, of correct thinking, upon religious subjects. I am inclined to go further and to say that it is proper not only to begin thus, but also to continue, as long as the habits of industry last, in the practice both of writing and committing to memory. Relaxation in this particular is so common, and so ready to grow upon most speakers in the pulpit, that there is little occasion for giving any cautions against the extreme of overdoing in accuracy.

The practice of reading sermons is one of the greatest obstacles to the eloquence of the pulpit in Great Britain, where alone this practice prevails. No discourse, which is designed to be persuasive, can have the same force when read as when spoken. The common people all feel this, and their prejudice against this practice is not without foundation in nature. What is gained hereby in point of correctness is not equal, I apprehend, to what is lost in point of persuasion and force. They whose memories are not able to retain the whole of a discourse might aid themselves considerably by short notes lying before them, which would allow them to preserve, in a great measure, the freedom and ease of one who speaks.

The French and English writers of sermons proceed upon very different ideas of the eloquence of the pulpit, and seem, indeed, to have split it betwixt them. A French sermon is, for the most part, a warm, animated exhortation; an English one is a piece of cool, instructive reasoning. The French preachers address themselves chiefly to the imagination and the passions; the English almost solely to the understanding. It is the union of these two kinds of composition,-of the French earnestness and warmth, with the English accuracy and reason,—that would form, according to my idea, the model of a perfect sermon. A French sermon would sound in our ears as a florid, and often, as an enthusiastic harangue. The censure which, in fact, the French critics pass on the English preachers is that they are philosophers and logicians, but not orators. The defects of most of the French sermons are these: from a mode that prevails among them of taking their text from the lesson of the day, the connection of the text with the subject is often unnatural and forced; their applications of Scripture are fanciful, rather than instructive; their method is stiff and cramped by their practice of dividing their subject always either into three, or two, main points; and their composition is in general too diffuse, and consists rather of a few thoughts spread out, and highly wrought up, than of a rich variety of sentiments. Admitting, however, all these defects, it cannot be denied that their sermons are formed upon the idea of a persuasive popular oration; and, therefore, I am of opinion they may be read with benefit.

Among the French Protestant divines, Saurin is the most distinguished; he is copious, eloquent, and devout, though too ostentatious in his manner. Among the Roman Catholics, the two most eminent are Bourdaloue and Massillon. It is a subject of dispute among the French critics, to which of these the preference is due, and each of them has his partisans. To Bourdaloue, they attribute more solidity and close reasoning; to Massillon, a more pleasing and engaging manner. Bourda

loue is, indeed, a great reasoner, and inculcates his doctrines with much zeal, piety, and earnestness; but his style is verbose, he is disagreeably full of quotations from the fathers, and he wants imagination. Massillon has more grace, more sentiment, and, in my opinion, every way more genius. He discovers much knowledge both of the world and of the human heart; he is pathetic and persuasive; and, upon the whole, is perhaps the most eloquent writer of sermons which modern times have produced.

Though the writings of the English divines are very proper to be read by such as are designed for the church, I must caution them against making too much use of them, or transcribing large passages from them into the sermons they compose. Such as once indulge themselves in this practice, will never have any fund of their own. Infinitely better it is to venture into the pulpit with thoughts and expressions which have occurred to themselves, though of inferior beauty, than to disfigure their compositions by borrowed and ill-sorted ornaments, which to a judicious eye will be always in hazard of discovering their own poverty. When a preacher sits down to write on any subject, never let him begin with seeking to consult all who have written on the same text or subject. This, if he consult many, will throw perplexity and confusion into his ideas; and if he consults only one, will often warp him insensibly into that one's method, whether it be right or not. But let him begin with pondering the subject in his own thoughts; let him endeavor to fetch materials from within; to collect and arrange his ideas; and form some sort of a plan to himself, which it is always proper to put down in writing. till then, he may inquire how others have treated the same subject. the method and the leading thoughts in the sermon are likely to be his own. thoughts he may improve by comparing them with the track of sentiment which others have pursued; some of their sense he may, without blame, incorporate into his composition, retaining always his own words and style. This is fair assistance; all beyond is plagiarism.

Then, and not By this means, These

On the whole, never let the capital principle with which we set out at first be forgotten, to keep close in view the great end for which a preacher mounts the pulpit: even to infuse good dispositions into his hearers, to persuade them to serve God, and to become better men. Let this always dwell on his mind when he is composing, and it will diffuse through his compositions that spirit which will render them at once esteemed and useful. The most useful preacher is always the best, and will not fail of being esteemed so. Embellish truth only with a view to gain it the more full and free admission into your hearers' minds; and your ornaments will, in that case, be simple, masculine, natural. The best applause, by far, which a preacher can receive, arises from the serious and deep impressions which his discourse leaves on those who hear it. The finest encomium, perhaps, ever bestowed on a preacher, was given by Louis XIV. to the eloquent Bishop of Clermont, Father Massillon, whom I before mentioned with so much praise. After hearing him preach at Versailles, he said to him: "Father, I have heard many great orators in this chapel; I have been highly pleased with them; but for you, whenever I hear you, I go away displeased with myself; for I see more of my own character.»

EV.

GEORGE CAMPBELL

(1719-1796)

DR. GEORGE CAMPBELL, principal of Marischal College and author of "The Philosophy of Rhetoric," was born at Aberdeen, Scotland, December 25th, 1719. Educated at Marischal College, Aberdeen, and at the University of Edinburgh, he became principal of Marischal College in 1759, and four years later published his celebrated "Dissertation on Miracles" in reply to Hume. His "Philosophy of Rhetoric" appeared in 1776, and in 1778 he published a new translation of the Gospels, with critical and explanatory notes, which is said by critics to be in many respects his greatest work. He died March 31st, 1796. His writings on oratory, though they are no longer in general circulation in America, abound in good sense and sound learning.

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HOW TO BE INTELLIGIBLE IN SPEAKING OR PREACHING

OTHING is more natural than for a man to imagine that what is intelligible to him is so to everybody, or at least that he speaks with sufficient clearness, when he uses the same language and in equal plainness with that in which he hath studied the subject and been accustomed to read. But however safe this rule of judging may be in the barrister and the senator, who generally address their discourses to men of similar education with themselves, and of equal or nearly equal abilities and learning, it is by no means a proper rule for the preacher, one destined to be in spiritual matters a guide to the blind, a light to them who are in darkness, an instructor of the foolish, and a teacher of babes. Therefore, besides the ordinary rules of perspicuity in respect of diction, which, in common with every other public speaker, he ought to attend to, he must advert to this in particular, that the terms and phrases he employs in his discourse be not beyond the reach of the inferior ranks of people. Otherwise his preaching is, to the bulk of his audience. but beating the air; whatever the discourse may be in itself, the speaker is to them no better than a sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. It is reported of Archbishop Tillotson, that he was wont, before preaching his sermons, to read them privately to an illiterate old woman of plain sense, who lived in the house with him, and wherever he found he had employed any word or expression that she did not understand, he instantly erased it, and substituted a plainer in its place, till he brought the style down to her level. The story is much to the prelate's honor; for however incompetent such judges might be of the composition, the doctrine, or the argument, they are certainly the most competent judges of what terms and phrases fall within the apprehension of the vulgar,-the class to which they belong. But though such an expedient would not answer in every situation, we ought at least to supply the want of it by making it more an object of attention than is commonly done, to dis