It is not often that a sermon, however eloquent it may be, becomes a
literary classic, as has happened to those preached by Barrow
against Evil Speaking. Literature--that which is expressed in
letters--has its own method, foreign to that of oratory--the art
of forcing one mind on another by word of mouth. Literature can
rely on suggestion, since it leaves those who do not comprehend at
once free to read over again what has attracted their attention
without compelling their understanding. All great literature relies
mostly on suggestion. This is the secret of Shakespeare's strength
in 'Hamlet,' as it is the purpose of Burke's in such speeches as
that at the trial of Hastings, to compel immediate comprehension by
crowding his meaning on the hearer in phalanxed sentences, moving to
the attack, rank on rank, so that the first are at once supported
and compelled by those which succeed them.
It is not easy to find the secret by virtue of which sermons that
made Barrow his reputation for eloquence escaped the fate of most
eloquent sermons so far as to find a place in the standard
"Libraries of English Classics," but it lies probably in their
compactness, clearness, and simplicity. Barrow taught Sir Isaac
Newton mathematics, and his style suggests the method of thought
which Newton illustrated in such great results.
Born in London in 1630, Barrow was educated at the Charterhouse
School, at Felstead, and at Cambridge. Belonging to a Royalist
family, under Cromwell, he left England after his graduation and
traveled abroad, studying the Greek fathers in Constantinople. After
the Restoration he became Lucasian professor of mathematics at
Cambridge and chaplain to Charles II., who called him the best
scholar in England. Celebrated for the length of his sermons, Barrow
had nevertheless a readiness at sharp repartee which made him
formidable on occasion. "I am yours, Doctor, to the knee-strings,"
said the Earl of Rochester, meeting him at court and seeking
amusement at his expense. "I am yours, my lord, to the shoe-tie,"
answered the Doctor, bowing still lower than the Earl had
done. "Yours, Doctor, to the ground," said Rochester. "Yours, ray
lord, to the centre of the earth," answered Barrow with another
bow. "Yours. Doctor, to the lowest pit of hell," said Rochester, as
he imagined, in conclusion. "There, my lord, I must leave you!" was
the immediate answer.