The subject of the discourse this evening was eloquence and graceful
action. Lysander, who is something particular in his way of thinking
and speaking, told us, "a man could not be eloquent without action;
for the deportment of the body, the turn of the eye, and an apt sound
to every word that is uttered, must all conspire to make an
accomplished speaker. Action in one that speaks in public is the same
thing as a good mien in ordinary life. Thus, as a certain
insensibility in the countenance recommends a sentence of humour and
jest, so it must be a very lively consciousness that gives grace to
great sentiments. The jest is to be a thing unexpected; therefore your
undesigning manner is a beauty in expressions of mirth; but when you
are to talk on a set subject, the more you are moved yourself, the
more you will move others.
"There is," said he, "a remarkable example of that kind. Aeschines, a
famous orator of antiquity, had pleaded at Athens in a great cause
against Demosthenes; but having lost it, retired to Rhodes. Eloquence
was then the quality most admired among men, and the magistrates of
that place, having heard he had a copy of the speech of Demosthenes,
desired him to repeat both their pleadings. After his own he recited
also the oration of his antagonist. The people expressed their
admiration of both, but more of that of Demosthenes. 'If you are,'
said he, 'thus touched with hearing only what that great orator said,
how much would you have been affected had you seen him speak? for he
who hears Demosthenes only, loses much the better part of the
oration.' Certain it is that they who speak gracefully are very lamely
represented in having their speeches read or repeated by unskilful
people; for there is something native to each man, so inherent to his
thoughts and sentiments, which it is hardly possible for another to
give a true idea of. You may observe in common talk, when a sentence
of any man's is repeated, an acquaintance of his shall immediately
observe, 'That is so like him, methinks I see how he looked when he
said it.'
"But of all the people on the earth, there are none who puzzle me so
much as the clergy of Great Britain, who are, I believe, the most
learned body of men now in the world: and yet this art of speaking,
with the proper ornaments of voice and gesture, is wholly neglected
among them; and I will engage, were a deaf man to behold the greater
part of them preach, he would rather think they were reading the
contents only of some discourse they intended to make, than actually
in the body of an oration, even when they were upon matters of such a
nature as one would believe it were impossible to think of without
emotion.
"I own there are exceptions to this general observation, and that the
dean we heard the other day together is an orator[4]. He has so much
regard to his congregation, that he commits to his memory what he is
to say to them; and has so soft and graceful a behaviour, that it must
attract your attention. His person, it is to be confessed, is no small
recommendation; but he is to be highly commended for not losing that
advantage; and adding to the propriety of speech, which might pass the
criticism of Longinus, an action which would have been approved by
Demosthenes. He has a peculiar force in his way, and has charmed many
of his audience, who could not be intelligent hearers of his discourse
were there not explanation as well as grace in his action. This art of
his is useful with the most exact and honest skill: he never attempts
your passions until he has convinced your reason. All the objections
which he can form are laid open and dispersed before he uses the least
vehemence in his sermon; but when he thinks he has your head, he very
soon wins your heart; and never pretends to show the beauty of
holiness until he has convinced you of the truth of it.
[Footnote 4: Steele says that this amiable character of the dean was
drawn for Dr. Atterbury, and mentions it as an argument of his
impartiality in his Preface to the "Tatler," vol. iv.]
"Would every one of our clergymen be thus careful to recommend truth
and virtue in their proper figures, and show so much concern for them
as to give them all the additional force they were able, it is not
possible that nonsense should have so many hearers as you find it has
in dissenting congregations, for no reason in the world but because it
is spoken extempore; for ordinary minds are wholly governed by their
eyes and ears; and there is no way to come at their hearts but by
power over their imaginations.
"There is my friend and merry companion Daniel;[5] he knows a great
deal better than he speaks, and can form a proper discourse as well as
any orthodox neighbour. But he knows very well that to bawl out, 'My
beloved!' and the words 'grace! regeneration! sanctification! a new
light! the day! the day! ay, my beloved, the day! or rather the night!
the night is coming!' and 'judgment will come when we least think of
it!' and so forth. He knows, to be vehement is the only way to come at
his audience. Daniel, when he sees my friend Greenhat come in, can
give a good hint, and cry out, 'This is only for the saints! the
regenerated!' By this force of action, though mixed with all the
incoherence and ribaldry imaginable, Daniel can laugh at his diocesan,
and grow fat by voluntary subscription, while the parson of the parish
goes to law for half his dues. Daniel will tell you, it is not the
shepherd, but the sheep with the bell, which the flock follows.
[Footnote 5: The celebrated Daniel Burgess, whose meeting-house near
Lincoln's Inn was destroyed by the high-church mob upon occasion of
Sacheverell's trial.]
"Another thing, very wonderful this learned body should omit, is
learning to read; which is a most necessary part of eloquence in one
who is to serve at the altar; for there is no man but must be sensible
that the lazy tone and inarticulate sound of our common readers
depreciates the most proper form of words that were ever extant in any
nation or language, to speak their own wants, or his power from whom
we ask relief.
"There cannot be a greater instance of the power of action than in
little parson Dapper, who is the common relief to all the lazy pulpits
in town. This smart youth has a very good memory, a quick eye, and a
clean handkerchief. Thus equipped, he opens his text, shuts his book
fairly, shows he has no notes in his Bible, opens both palms, and
shows all is fair there too. Thus, with a decisive air, my young man
goes on without hesitation; and though from the beginning to the end
of his pretty discourse, he has not used one proper gesture, yet, at
the conclusion, the churchwarden pulls his gloves from off his hands;
'Pray, who is this extraordinary young man?' Thus the force of action
is such, that it is more prevalent, even when improper, than all the
reason and argument in the world without it." This gentleman concluded
his discourse by saying, "I do not doubt but if our preachers would
learn to speak, and our readers to read, within six months' time we
should not have a dissenter within a mile of a church in Great
Britain."
"The Tatler," No. 66.