Against what has been advanced in the preceding pages, many objections
will be urged, and the evils of the practice I recommend be declared
more than sufficient to counterbalance its advantages. Of these it is
necessary that I should now take notice, and obviate them as well as I
may.
It should be first of all remarked, that the force of the objections
commonly made, lies against the exclusive use of extempore preaching,
and not against its partial and occasional use. It is of consequence
that this should be considered. There can be no doubt, that he would
preach very wretchedly, who should always be haranguing without the
corrective discipline of writing. The habit of writing is essential.
Many of the objections which are currently made to this mode of address,
fall to the ground when this statement is made.
Other objections have been founded on the idea, that by _extemporaneous_
is meant, _unpremeditated_. Whereas there is a plain and important
distinction between them, the latter word being applied to the thoughts,
and the former to the language only. To preach without premeditation, is
altogether unjustifiable; although there is no doubt that a man of
habitual readiness of mind, may express himself to the greatest
advantage on a subject with which he is familiar, after very little
meditation.
Many writers on the art of preaching, as well as on eloquence in
general, have given a decided judgment unfavorable to extempore
speaking. There can be no fairer way of answering their objections, than
by examining what they have advanced, and opposing their authority by
that of equal names on the other side.
Gerard, in his Treatise on the Pastoral Charge, has the following
passage on this subject.
"He will run into trite, common-place topics; his compositions will be
loose and unconnected; his language often coarse and confused; and
diffidence, or care to recollect his subject, will destroy the
management of his voice." At the same time, however, he admits that "it
is very proper that a man should be able to preach in this way, when it
is necessary;--but no man ought always to preach in this way." To which
decision I have certainly nothing to object.
Mason, in his Student and Pastor, says to the same effect, that "the
inaccuracy of diction, the inelegance, poverty, and lowness of
expression, which is commonly observed in extempore discourses, will not
fail to offend every hearer of good taste."
Dinouart,[8] who is an advocate for recitation from memory, says that
"experience decides against extemporaneous preaching, though there are
exceptions; but these are very few; and we must not be led astray by the
success of a few first rate orators."
[8] Sur l'Eloquence du Corps, ou l'Action du Prédicateur.
Hume, in his Essay upon Eloquence, expresses an opinion that the modern
deficiency in this art is to be attributed to "that extreme affectation
of extempore speaking, which has led to extreme carelessness of method."
The writer of an article, on the Greek Orators, in the Edinburgh
Review,[9] observes, that "among the sources of the corruption of modern
eloquence, may clearly be distinguished as the most fruitful, the habit
of extempore speaking, acquired rapidly by persons who frequent popular
assemblies, and, beginning at the wrong end, attempt to speak before
they have studied the art of oratory, or even duly stored their minds
with the treasures of thought and language, which can only be drawn from
assiduous intercourse with the ancient and modern classics."
[9] No. LXXI. p. 82.
These are the prominent objections which have been made to the practice
in question. Without denying that they have weight, I think it may be
made to appear that they have not the unquestionable preponderance,
which is assumed for them. They will be found, on examination, to be the
objections of a cultivated taste, and to be drawn from the examples of
undisciplined men, who ought to be left entirely out of the question.
1. The objection most urged is that which relates to style. It is said,
the expression will be poor, inelegant, inaccurate, and offensive to
hearers of taste.
To those who urge this it may be replied, that the reason why style is
an important consideration in the pulpit, is, not that the taste of the
hearers may be gratified, for but a small part of any congregation is
capable of taking cognizance of this matter;--but solely for the purpose
of presenting the speaker's thoughts, reasonings, and expostulations
distinctly and forcibly to the minds of his hearers. If this be
effected, it is all which can reasonably be demanded. And I ask if it be
not notorious, that an earnest and appropriate elocution will give this
effect to a poor style, and that poor speaking will take it away from
the most exact and emphatic style? Is it not also notorious that the
peculiar earnestness of spontaneous speech, is, above all others, suited
to arrest the attention, and engage the feelings of an audience? and
that the mere reading of a piece of fine composition, under the notion
that careful thought and finished diction are the only things needful,
leaves the majority uninterested in the discourse, and free to think of
any thing they please? "It is a poor compliment," says Blair, "that one
is an accurate reasoner, if he be not a persuasive speaker also." It is
a small matter that the style is poor, so long as it answers the great
purpose of instructing and affecting men. So that, as I have more fully
shown in a former place, the objection lies on an erroneous foundation.
Besides, if it were not so, it will be found quite as strong against the
_writing_ of sermons. For how large a proportion of sermon writers have
these very same faults of style! what a great want of force, neatness,
compactness, is there in the composition of most preachers! what
weakness, inelegance, and inconclusiveness; and how small improvement do
they make, even after the practice of years! How happens this? It is
because they do not make this an object of attention and study; and some
might be unable to attain it if they did. But that watchfulness and care
which secure a correct and neat style in writing, would also secure it
in speaking. It does not naturally belong to the one, more than to the
other, and may be as certainly attained in each by the proper pains.
Indeed so far as my observation has extended, I am not certain that
there is not as large a proportion of extempore speakers, whose diction
is exact and unexceptionable, as of writers--always taking into view
their education, which equally affects the one and the other. And it is
a consideration of great weight, that the faults in question are far
less offensive in speakers than in writers.
It is apparent that objectors of this sort are guilty of a double
mistake; first, in laying too great stress upon mere defects of style,
and then in taking for granted, that these are unavoidable. They might
as well insist that defects of written style are unavoidable. Whereas
they are the consequence of the negligent mode in which the art has been
studied, and its having been given up, for the most part, to ignorant
and fanatical pretenders. Let it be diligently cultivated by educated
men, and we shall find no more cause to expel it from the pulpit than
from the forum or the parliament. "Poverty, inelegance, and poorness of
diction," will be no longer so "generally observed," and even hearers of
taste will cease to be offended.
2. A want of order, a rambling, unconnected, desultory manner, is
commonly objected; as Hume styles it, "extreme carelessness of method;"
and this is so often observed, as to be justly an object of dread. But
this is occasioned by that indolence and want of discipline to which we
have just alluded. It is not a necessary evil. If a man have never
studied the art of speaking, nor passed through a course of preparatory
discipline; if he have so rash and unjustifiable a confidence in
himself, that he will undertake to speak, without having considered what
he shall say, what object he shall aim at, or by what steps he shall
attain it; the inevitable consequence will be confusion,
inconclusiveness, and wandering. Who recommends such a course? But he
who has first trained himself to the work, and whenever he would speak,
has surveyed his ground, and become familiar with the points to be dwelt
upon, and the course of reasoning and track of thought to be followed;
will go on from one step to another, in an easy and natural order, and
give no occasion to the complaint of confusion or disarrangement.
"Some preachers," says Dinouart, "have the folly to think that they can
make sermons impromptu. And what a piece of work they make! They bolt
out every thing which comes into their head. They take for granted, what
ought to be proved, or perhaps they state half the argument, and forget
the rest. Their appearance corresponds to the state of their mind, which
is occupied in hunting after some way of finishing the sentence they
have begun. They repeat themselves; they wander off in digression. They
stand stiff without moving; or if they are of a lively temperament, they
are full of the most turbulent action; their eyes and hands are flying
about in every direction, and their words choke in their throats. They
are like men swimming, who have got frightened, and throw about their
hands and feet at random, to save themselves from drowning."
There is doubtless great truth in this humorous description. But what is
the legitimate inference? that extemporaneous speaking is altogether
ridiculous and mischievous? or only that it is an art which requires
study and diligence, and which no man should presume to practice, until
he has fitted himself for it?
3. In the same way I should dispose of the objection, that this habit
leads to barrenness in preaching, and the everlasting repetition of the
same sentiments and topics. If a man make his facility of speech an
excuse for the neglect of all study, then doubtless this will be the
result. He who cannot resist his indolent propensities, had best avoid
this occasion of temptation. He must be able to command himself to
think, and industriously prepare himself by meditation, if he would be
safe in this hazardous experiment. He who does this, and continues to
learn and reflect while he preaches, will be no more empty and
monotonous than if he carefully wrote every word.
4. But this temptation to indolence in the preparation for the desk, is
urged as in itself a decisive objection. A man finds, that after a
little practice, it is an exceedingly easy thing to fill up his
half-hour with declamation which shall pass off very well, and hence he
grows negligent in previous meditation; and insensibly degenerates into
an empty exhorter, without choice of language, or variety of ideas. This
is undoubtedly the great and alarming danger of this practice. This must
be triumphed over, or it is ruinous. We see examples of it wherever we
look among those whose preaching is exclusively extempore. In these
cases, the evil rises to its magnitude in consequence of their total
neglect of the pen. The habit of writing a certain proportion of the
time would, in some measure, counteract this dangerous tendency.
But it is still insisted, that man's natural love of ease is not to be
trusted; that he will not long continue the drudgery of writing in part;
that when he has once gained confidence to speak without study, he will
find it so flattering to his indolence, that he will involuntarily give
himself up to it, and relinquish the pen altogether; that consequently
there is no security, except in never beginning.
To this it may be replied, that they who have not principle and
self-government enough to keep them industrious, will not be kept so by
being compelled to write sermons. I think we have abundant proof, that a
man may write with as little pains and thinking, as he can speak. It by
no means follows, that because it is on paper, it is therefore the
result of study. And if it be not, it will be greatly inferior, in point
of effect, to an unpremeditated declamation; for in the latter case,
there will probably be at least a temporary excitement of feeling, and
consequent vivacity of manner, while in the former the indolence of the
writer will be made doubly intolerable by his heaviness in reading.
It cannot be doubted, however, that if any one find his facility of
extemporaneous invention, likely to prove destructive to his habits of
diligent and careful application; it were advisable that he refrain from
the practice. It could not be worth while for him to lose his habits of
study and thinking for the sake of an ability to speak, which would
avail him but little, after his ability to think has been weakened or
destroyed.
As for those whose indolence habitually prevails over principle, and who
make no preparation for duty excepting the mechanical one of covering
over a certain number of pages,--they have no concern in the ministry,
and should be driven to seek some other employment, where their
mechanical labor may provide them a livelihood, without injuring their
own souls, or those of other men.
If the objection in question be applied to conscientious men, whose
hearts are in their profession, and who have a sincere desire to do
good, it certainly has very little weight. The minds of such men are
kept active with reflection, and stored with knowledge, and warm with
religious feeling. They are therefore always ready to speak to the
purpose, as well as write to the purpose; and their habitual sense of
the importance of their office, and their anxiety to fulfil it in the
best manner, will forbid that indolence which is so disastrous. The
objection implies, that the consequence pointed out is one which cannot
be avoided. Experience teaches us the contrary. It is the tendency--but
a tendency which may be, for it has been, counteracted. Many have
preached in this mode for years, and yet have never relaxed their
diligence in study, nor declined in the variety, vigor, and interest of
their discourses;--sometimes dull, undoubtedly; but this may be said
with equal truth of the most faithful and laborious writers.
5. Many suppose that there is a certain natural talent, essential to
success in extempore speaking, no less than in poetry; and that it is
absurd to recommend the art to those who have not this peculiar talent,
and vain for them to attempt its practice.
In regard to that ready flow of words, which seems to be the natural
gift of some men, it is of little consequence whether it be really such,
or be owing to the education and habits of early life, and vain
self-confidence. It is certain that the want of habit, and diffidence
are great hindrances to fluency of speech; and it is equally certain,
that this natural fluency is a very questionable advantage to him who
would be an impressive speaker. It is quite observable that those who at
first talk easiest, do not always talk best. Their very facility is a
snare to them. It serves to keep them content; they make no effort to
improve, and are likely to fall into slovenly habits of elocution. So
that this unacquired fluency is so far from essential, that it is not
even a benefit, and it may be an injury. It keeps from final eminence by
the very greatness of its early promise. On the other hand, he who
possesses originally no remarkable command of language, and whom an
unfortunate bashfulness prevents from well using what he has; is obliged
to subject himself to severe discipline, to submit to rules and tasks,
to go through a tedious process of training, to acquire by much labor
the needful sway over his thoughts and words, so that they shall come at
his bidding, and not be driven away by his own diffidence, or the
presence of other men. To do all this, is a long and disheartening
labor. He is exposed to frequent mortifications, and must endure many
grievous failures, before he attain that confidence which is
indispensable to success. But then in this discipline, his powers,
mental and moral, are strained up to the highest intenseness of action;
after persevering practice, they become habitually subject to his
control, and work with a precision, exactness, and energy, which can
never be the possession of him, who has depended on his native,
undisciplined gift. Of the truth of this, examples are by no means
wanting, and I could name, if it were proper, more than one striking
instance within my own observation. It was probably this to which Newton
referred, when he said, that he never spoke well till he felt that he
could not speak at all. Let no one therefore think it an obstacle in his
way that he has no readiness of words. If he have good sense and no
deficiency of talent, and is willing to labor for this as all great
acquisitions must be labored for, he needs not fear but that in time he
will attain it.
We must be careful, however, not to mistake the object to be attained.
It is not a high rank in oratory, consummate eloquence. If it were, then
indeed a young man might pause till he had ascertained whether he
possessed all those extraordinary endowments of intellect, imagination,
sensibility, countenance, voice, and person, which belong to few men in
a century, and without which the great orator does not exist. He is one
of those splendid formations of nature, which she exhibits but rarely;
and it is not necessary to the object of his pursuit that the minister
be such. The aim and purpose of his office are less ambitious, to impart
instruction and do good; and it is by no means certain that the greatest
eloquence is best adapted to these purposes in the pulpit. But any man,
with powers which fit him for the ministry at all,--unless there be a
few extraordinary exceptions--is capable of learning to express himself
clearly, correctly, and with method; and this is precisely what is
wanted, and no more than this. I do not say eloquently; for as it is not
thought indispensable that every writer of sermons should be eloquent,
it cannot be thought essential that every speaker should be so. But the
same powers which have enabled him to write, will, with sufficient
discipline, enable him to speak; with every probability that when he
comes to speak with the same ease and collectedness, he will do it with
a nearer approach to eloquence. Without such discipline he has no right
to hope for success; let him not say that success is impossible, until
he has submitted to it.
I apprehend that these remarks will be found not only correct in theory,
but agreeable to experience. With the exceeding little systematic
cultivation of the art which there is amongst us, and no actual
instruction, we find that a great majority of the lawyers in our courts,
and not a small portion of the members of our legislatures, are able to
argue and debate. In some of the most popular and quite numerous
religious sects, we find preachers enough, who are able to communicate
their thoughts and harangue their congregations, and exert very powerful
and permanent influence over large bodies of the people. Some of these
are men of as small natural talents and as limited education, as any
that enter the sacred office. It should seem therefore that no one needs
to despair.
In the ancient republics of Greece and Rome, this accomplishment was a
necessary branch of a finished education. A much smaller proportion of
the citizens were educated than amongst us; but of these a much larger
number became orators. No man could hope for distinction or influence,
and yet slight this art.[10] The commanders of their armies were orators
as well as soldiers, and ruled as well by their rhetorical as by their
military skill. There was no trusting with them as with us, to a natural
facility, or the acquisition of an accidental fluency by actual
practice. But they served an apprenticeship to the art. They passed
through a regular course of instruction in schools. They submitted to
long and laborious discipline. They exercised themselves frequently,
both before equals and in the presence of teachers, who criticised,
reproved, rebuked, excited emulation, and left nothing undone which art
and perseverance could accomplish. The greatest orators of antiquity, so
far from being favored by natural tendencies, except indeed in their
high intellectual endowments, had to struggle against natural obstacles;
and instead of growing up spontaneously to their unrivalled eminence,
they forced themselves forward by the most discouraging artificial
process. Demosthenes combated an impediment in speech and ungainliness
of gesture, which at first drove him from the forum in disgrace. Cicero
failed at first through weakness of lungs, and an excessive vehemence of
manner, which wearied the hearers and defeated his own purpose. These
defects were conquered by study and discipline. Cicero exiled himself
from home, and during his absence in various lands passed not a day
without a rhetorical exercise; seeking the masters who were most severe
in criticism, as the surest means of leading him to the perfection at
which he aimed. Such too was the education of their other great men.
They were all, according to their ability and station, orators; orators,
not by nature or accident, but by education; formed in a strict process
of rhetorical training; admired and followed even while Demosthenes and
Cicero were living, and unknown now, only because it is not possible
that any but the first should survive the ordeal of ages.
[10] It is often said that extemporaneous speaking is the
distinction of modern eloquence. But the whole language of
Cicero's rhetorical works, as well as particular terms in
common use, and anecdotes recorded of different speakers,
prove the contrary; not to mention Quinctilian's express
instructions on the subject. Hume, also, tells us from
Suidas, that the writing of speeches was unknown until the
time of Pericles.
The inference to be drawn from these observations, is, that if so many
of those who received an accomplished education became accomplished
orators, because to become so was one purpose of their study; then it is
in the power of a much larger proportion amongst us, to form themselves
into creditable and accurate speakers. The inference should not be
denied until proved false by experiment. Let this art be made an object
of attention, and young men train themselves to it faithfully and long;
and if any of competent talents and tolerable science be found at last
incapable of expressing themselves in continued and connected discourse,
so as to answer the ends of the christian ministry; then, and not till
then, let it be said that a peculiar talent or natural aptitude is
requisite, the want of which must render effort vain; then, and not till
then, let us acquiesce in this indolent and timorous notion, which
contradicts the whole testimony of antiquity, and all the experience of
the world. Doubtless, after the most that can be done, there will be
found the greatest variety of attainment; "men will differ," as Burnet
remarks, "quite as much as in their written compositions;" and some will
do but poorly what others will do excellently. But this is likewise true
of every other art in which men engage, and not least so of writing
sermons; concerning which no one will say, that as poor are not written,
as it would be possible for any one to speak. In truth, men of small
talents and great sluggishness, of a feeble sense of duty and no zeal,
will of course make poor sermons, by whatever process they may do it,
let them write or let them speak. It is doubtful concerning some whether
they would even steal good ones.
The survey we have now taken, renders it evident, that the evils, which
are principally objected against as attending this mode of preaching,
are not necessary evils, but are owing to insufficient study and
preparation before the practice is commenced, and indolence afterward.
This is implied in the very expressions of the objectors themselves, who
attribute the evil to "beginning at the wrong end, attempting to speak
before studying the art of oratory, or even storing the mind with
treasures of thought and language." It is, also, implied in this
language, that study and preparation are capable of removing the
objections. I do not therefore advocate the art, without insisting on
the necessity of severe discipline and training. No man should be
encouraged or permitted to adopt it, who will not take the necessary
pains, and proceed with the necessary perseverance.
This should be the more earnestly insisted upon, because it is from our
loose and lazy notions on the subject, that eloquence in every
department is suffering so much, and that the pulpit especially has
become so powerless, where the most important things that receive
utterance upon earth, are read like schoolboys' tasks, without even the
poor pains to lay emphasis on the right words, and to pause in the right
places. And this, because we fancy that, if nature have not designed us
for orators, it is vain to make effort, and if she have, we shall be
such without effort. True, that the noble gifts of mind are from nature;
but not language, or knowledge, or accent, or tone, or gesture; these
are to be learned, and it is with these that the speaker is concerned.
These are all matters of acquisition, and of difficult acquisition;
possible to be attained, and well worth the exertion that must be made.
The history of the world is full of testimony to prove how much depends
upon industry; not an eminent orator has lived, but is an example of it.
Yet in contradiction to all this, the almost universal feeling appears
to be, that industry can effect nothing, that eminence is the result of
accident, and that every one must be content to remain just what he may
happen to be. Thus multitudes, who come forward as teachers and guides,
suffer themselves to be satisfied with the most indifferent attainments,
and a miserable mediocrity, without so much as inquiring how they might
rise higher, much less making any attempt to rise. For any other art
they would have served an apprenticeship, and would be ashamed to
practise it in public before they had learned it. If any one would sing,
he attends a master, and is drilled in the very elementary principles;
and only after the most laborious process dares to exercise his voice in
public. This he does, though he has scarce any thing to learn but the
mechanical execution of what lies in sensible forms before his eye. But
the extempore speaker, who is to invent as well as to utter, to carry on
an operation of the mind as well as to produce sound, enters upon the
work without preparatory discipline, and then wonders that he fails! If
he were learning to play on the flute for public exhibition, what hours
and days would he spend in giving facility to his fingers, and attaining
the power of the sweetest and most impressive execution. If he were
devoting himself to the organ, what months and years would he labor,
that he might know its compass, and be master of its keys, and be able
to draw out, at will, all its various combinations of harmonious sound,
and its full richness and delicacy of expression. And yet he will fancy
that the grandest, the most various, the most expressive of all
instruments, which the infinite Creator has fashioned by the union of an
intellectual soul with the powers of speech, may be played upon without
study or practice; he comes to it, a mere uninstructed tyro, and thinks
to manage all its stops, and command the whole compass of its varied and
comprehensive power! He finds himself a bungler in the attempt, is
mortified at his failure, and settles it in his mind forever that the
attempt is vain.
Success in every art, whatever may be the natural talent, is always the
reward of industry and pains. But the instances are many of men of the
finest natural genius, whose beginning has promised much, but who have
degenerated wretchedly as they advanced, because they trusted to their
gifts, and made no effort to improve. That there have never been other
men of equal endowments with Demosthenes and Cicero, none would venture
to suppose; but who have so devoted themselves to their art, or become
equal in excellence? If those great men had been content, like others,
to continue as they began, and had never made their persevering efforts
for improvement, what would their countries have benefited from their
genius, or the world have known of their fame? They would have been lost
in the undistinguished crowd, that sunk to oblivion around them. Of how
many more will the same remark prove true! What encouragement is thus
given to the industrious! With such encouragement, how inexcusable is
the negligence which suffers the most interesting and important truths,
to seem heavy and dull, and fall ineffectual to the ground, through mere
sluggishness in their delivery! How unworthy of one who performs the
high function of a religious instructer, upon whom depend, in a great
measure, the religious knowledge and devotional sentiment and final
character of many fellow beings,--to imagine that he can worthily
discharge this great concern by occasionally talking for an hour, he
knows not how, and in a manner which he has taken no pains to render
correct, impressive, or attractive; and which, simply through want of
that command over himself which study would give, is immethodical,
verbose, inaccurate, feeble, trifling. It has been said of the good
preacher, that "truths divine come mended from his tongue." Alas, they
come ruined and worthless from such a man as this. They lose that holy
energy by which they are to convert the soul and purify man for heaven,
and sink, in interest and efficacy, below the level of those principles
which govern the ordinary affairs of this lower world.