Chapter IV._The Clergy and the Pulpit in Their Relations to the People.

The Sermon Should Be Popular.

What constitutes true Popularity?

Popularity in Words, in Thought, in Sentiment.

One of the most popular Sentiments in France is Patriotism.

Means to utilize that sentiment.

The Relationship between Popularity and Genius.

Demosthenes.

Saint John Chrysostom.

Daniel O'Connell.

The language of the Christian orator whose object is to make

religion known and loved, should possess the following

characteristics:--

It should be, 1st, popular; 2dly, plain; 3dly, short.

All eloquence to be effectual must be popular. An orator is

essentially the man for all, and is specially made for the

people. The people are the best judges of true eloquence, and are

themselves the best soil to be cultivated thereby. Cicero says

that "the most infallible token of an orator is to be esteemed as

such in the opinion of the people." He was so persuaded of this

that he remarks in another place:--"I wish my eloquence to be

relished by the people."

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This is still more true as regards the Christian orator. He

appeals to all: to the little, to the poor and the ignorant as

well as to the great, the wealthy, and the learned, and his

speech should be understood and enjoyed by all. He is not free to

deprive any one of the truth. All men are people before the

Gospel, and that Gospel speaks in unison with the souls of all.

It stoops to raise, to comfort, and to enlighten all. Hence the

truly popular preacher proclaims himself at the outset as no

ordinary orator, but one about to be powerful, and to rise into a

giant, before whom even the most learned will be obliged to bow,

because his soul is linked with the Divine word, and with the

hearts of the people.

This popularity of Christian discourses has become rare, more

especially in our towns. Instead of being satisfied with the

life, the sap of that Gospel which has moved the world, preachers

have deemed themselves obliged to call in the aid of philosophy,

metaphysics, and distorted phraseology and rhetoric. The

exception has been taken for the rule. The Divine word has been

bound, imprisoned in a terminology, which many do not understand.

The preacher speaks, but the man remains impassible and cold.

Painful reflection! The word of God passes by and says nothing to

the mind, the soul, or even to the ears of the audience.

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But I hasten to observe that the popularity of a sermon does not

consist in using common, trivial, or vulgar language. The people

do not like such a style, and regard it as derogatory to their

intelligence and dignity. They have much more tact than is

generally supposed. They know perfectly well what befits each,

and have an exquisite sense of propriety. The people wish their

preacher to speak better than they do, and appreciate dignified

language. Hence, whenever they have to name any thing mean before

you, they are careful to preface it with the proverbial apology:

"saving your presence." In fine, the object of preaching being to

elevate the people, the language adopted should be superior to

theirs. The style of speaking has an important bearing on the

morals of life.

We may, however, occasionally borrow some of their most striking

and picturesque, and even some of their quaint expressions, put

them into a good framing, and make them the starting-point for a

felicitous sally or thought. They have then a powerful effect.

The people perceive thereby that you are acquainted with them,

that you must have visited among them, that you know their life,

their toil, their sorrows, and even their foibles, and they will

open their hearts to you at once. They feel themselves to be on

familiar ground, where they find, as it were, an old friend.

There is a strange instinct among the people which leads them to

reason thus:--"That man knows us, therefore he loves us;"

whereupon they readily give you their confidence.

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Then, again, it is not very difficult to maintain a style of

speaking at once dignified and popular. Look at the lady of

fashion dealing with the petty tradesman, or even with a

fish-woman--a character by no means celebrated for choice or

polite expressions. The price of the article treated for is

discussed, the bargain is struck, both parties come to a

satisfactory understanding, and the language of the woman of the

world has been sober throughout, and perfectly becoming. ...

But popular speech consists not so much in the expressions used

as in the thoughts and sentiments conveyed thereby. We have

already remarked that the people have good sense, ready wit, and

above all a heart. ... We must lay hold of those points in them

to effect an entry into their minds as well as their hearts,

thereby preparing the way for religion to follow.

The people have a certain aggregate of ideas and thoughts, and

their own way of apprehending and appreciating things. All this

should be studied, for it constitutes the best holdfast of

humanity. We should make ourselves of the people, as it were, in

their mode of thought, joining thereto superior knowledge; study

those ideas which they do not adequately estimate, put them into

expressive and proverbial language such as they relish, and then

engraft religious thought into their thoughts in order to

elucidate and elevate them.

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But the people possess, above all, an inexpressible richness of

sentiment, together with admirable instincts. These must be laid

hold of, cultivated, and profoundly stirred, and then

Christianity should be brought in and fused, so to speak, with

those good instincts and noble sentiments. Dive down to the

bottom of the souls of the people ... touch the best chords of

their hearts ... be inspired with their aspirations ... be

animated with their passions; I had almost said be agitated with

their anger. Possess yourself of what is best in them, and return

it to them in vivid expressions and glowing effusions of the

soul, that they may think, feel, will, as you do; that their

thought may seem to have anticipated yours, while, at the same

time, you exercise sway over them. Then your sermon will be the

outward expression of the best sentiments of the human heart,

ennobled by the Divine word. Such, we take it, is true

popularity; such also is the real power of Christian eloquence.

In this way you may lead men onward to the highest speculations,

and raise them even to heroism. You may then use the language of

scholars, provided that you continue to be of the people in

heart.

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One noble and powerful sentiment which should be cultivated--a

sentiment which may be made to call forth the sublimest

aspirations and the most heroic transports--is patriotism. The

people love France, they love the glory of France, they love all

that concerns France. If, then, you wish to interest them, to

induce them to listen to you, to stir them up, to enlarge their

hearts, speak well of France to them; dilate to them of their

earthly country, and then you will find it much easier to raise

them to that country which is in heaven.

An admirable example of this was afforded by Monseigneur the

Archbishop of Paris, during his visitations, and he produced one

of those magic effects which seem hardly to belong to our times.

The venerable prelate visited a school of adults, consisting of

about four hundred youths, all in the flower of their age and the

heyday of their passions. On taking his seat, the whole assembly

intoned a harmonious and popular hymn, full of patriotic

sentiments. The archbishop made this the starting-point of his

lecture, and soon there was such a thunder of applause that the

floor of the hall shook, to say nothing of the ears of the

spectators. The speaker himself must have been stunned, but he

resumed with animation:--

"Do you know, my children, why this magic word 'country'

electrifies your hearts? It is because one's native country is

the sacred home of man, of his duties and his privileges. It is

his life, his cradle, his tomb; it is every thing to him after

heaven, from whence he comes, and whither he must return; and

which is on that account the glorious country, the kingdom of

all righteousness, the fruition of all privileges, the

communion of all souls, of all happiness, of all good. Chaunt,

therefore, your earthly country, but be not forgetful of that

country which is beyond the skies.

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"Yes, sing it, and love it well. It has need of all your filial

love and useful prowess. It has bled much; it still suffers.

Respect it, comfort it, for it is your mother. You are indebted

to it for birth, instruction, employment, and a livelihood. It

behoves you to show yourselves worthy of these benefits, to

merit them, to win them, and to preserve them. Young citizens,

be men! Young men, be Christians!

"I recognize in your ardor the descendants of those warriors

who, on the approach of the enemy, gained the frontier at a

bound, and as one man. They were workmen when they left;

workmen less fortunate and educated than you are. They

returned, as you know, conquering heroes, or they fell covered

with glory.

"Were the country again menaced, and an appeal made to your

courage, I should have no misgivings; for, hardly should I have

blessed the tricolored standard over your heads, than it would

take the eagle's flight and echo a reply by a brilliant

victory, either from the summits of the Alps or from the

borders of the Rhine."

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We must renounce all attempt[s] to describe the sensation which

this discourse elicited, and which it at the same time

restrained, that the speaker might not be interrupted. It broke

out at last; the hurricane burst through all bounds, and then

suddenly subsided as if in remorse at its own violence. This

intelligent silence seeming to say: "Go on," the archbishop

proceeded:--

"I doubt not that you would easily triumph over the enemy: but

would you overcome yourselves also? would you subdue your

passions, calm your impetuosity, be Christians, be virtuous?"

[Footnote 14]

[Footnote 14: _Visites Pastorales_, p. 136.]

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed these noble youths. Their hearts were

touched, and they were ready for any sacrifice. The prelate then

rapidly set forth the virtues which they ought to practise, the

temptations which they should avoid, the vices they should

subdue, and the passions which they should curb. Thereupon, the

explosion of enthusiasm was redoubled, showing that these brave

youths were not irretrievably wedded to their errors and foibles;

for though in reality undergoing a partial defeat, they applauded

as if they had been the conquerors.

We repeat it: one of the best means to popularize religion among

the people is to speak always in favorable terms of their native

country.

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There can be no doubt that deplorable excesses in the history of

the last seventy years have wounded the hearts of the clergy, and

imparted a savor of bitterness and sarcasm to our language

respecting France. But it is wrong: one should always love one's

country and one's times, though it may be a duty to combat their

prejudices and their errors. On this subject I commend the words

of one of our own statesmen, endeared both to religion and to his

country:-- [Footnote 15]

[Footnote 15: M. de Falloux.]

"Do not misunderstand what I am about to say; do not imagine

that I wish to unduly criticise the era in which we live. No;

my country and my contemporaries will find in me rather an

impassioned advocate then a prejudiced detractor. I love my

country and my time, for I cannot separate the one from the

other. I believe that one cannot be loved without the other. He

who does not acquiesce in the age in which he lives, its

responsibilities and its dangers, does not wholly love his

country: does not love his country except in times which either

exist no longer, or in those which have not yet come. To do

this, is to discourage, to lessen the power which we should

hold at its service. The age in which each of us lives is

simply the frame wherein God sets our duties; the career which

He opens to and imposes upon our faculties. To study one's age

is to search out what God desires and demands of us."

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Then, again, we are bound to be just. If France has done wrong,

how much good has she not done; how much is she not still doing

every day! The words _Gesta Dei per Francos_ have not ceased to

be true as regards ourselves. Is not the blessed institution of

the _Propagation of the Faith_ the work of France? Is not, also,

the _Archiconfrérie_ for the return of sinners to the paternal

home, the work of France? Is not the society of Saint Vincent de

Paul likewise the work of France? That society numbers eight

hundred confraternities throughout the world, and of these, five

hundred are claimed by France. And wherever any good work is to

be wrought for the Church, is it not accomplished by the words,

the money, the prayers, and even by the sword of France? Surely,

the citizen of such a country, the child of such a fatherland,

has a right to speak well of his mother; more especially when the

object is to lead souls to virtue. Reawaken, then, the old French

and Christian enthusiasm, filling all hearts with the sacred

emotions of earthly patriotism, and with holy love for that

better home which is eternal in the heavens.

Such is true popularity; such the power of speech. One is strong

when he has on his side the reason and will of the multitude;

when he has sympathy with humanity, and possesses the hearts of

the masses.

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Let others say what they please: the many possess more mind than

one person, whoever he may be; and popular speech has more weight

than the speculations or fancies of a man of science, or even a

man of genius.

Further, there is a sort of relationship between popularity and

genius, so that one cannot exist with out the other. For, what is

a man of genius? He is one who has learnt to seize the thoughts,

the aspirations, the wants of his own times, and has profoundly

traced them in brilliant, energetic, sympathetic pages; a man who

astonishes and revivifies the age in which he lives, by telling

it aright what it is, what it thinks, what it wants, and what it

suffers. Moreover, as has been remarked long ago, the finest

conceptions of genius are always grasped by the people.

On the other hand, the most sublime pages are always popular. I

shall cite but one example, which is familiar to all. ... The

prophet Isaiah is describing the fall of the King of Babylon:--

"How hath the oppressor ceased! ... The whole earth is at rest,

and is quiet; yea, the fir-trees rejoice at thee, and the

cedars of Lebanon, saying:--Since thou art laid down, no feller

is come up against us. Hell from beneath is moved for thee, to

meet thee at thy coming; it stirreth up the dead for thee, even

all the chief ones of the earth; it hath raised up from their

thrones all the kings of the nations. All they shall speak and

say unto thee: Art thou also become weak as we? art them become

like unto us?

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Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy

viols; the worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover thee.

All the kings of the nations ... lie in glory ... but thou art

cast out of thy grave like an abominable branch, and as the

slain, thrust through with a sword, that go down to the stones

of the pit; as a carcase trodden under feet. How art thou

fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! For thou

hast said in thine heart, I will ascend unto heaven, I will

exalt my throne above the stars of God, I will also sit upon

the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north. ... I

will be like the Most High. Yet thou shalt be brought down to

hell, to the sides of the pit. They that see thee shall

narrowly look upon thee, and consider thee, saying:--Is this

the man that made the earth to tremble, that did shake

kingdoms, that made the world as a wilderness? ... Thou hast

destroyed thy land and slain thy people. The seed of evil-doers

shall never be renowned. Prepare slaughter for his children for

the iniquity of their fathers, that they do not rise nor

possess the land." (_Isaiah_ xiv. 4-21.)

As might be expected, all great orators have been popular; for

one cannot be truly an orator by one's own power or by dint of

study; there must be, besides, a multitude to inspire you, and to

stimulate you by their criticism and opposition.

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Demosthenes, the greatest orator of ancient times, was

pre-eminently a popular orator, and that popularity was the chief

element of his glory. The people of Athens were all for him, for

he loved them and knew them thoroughly: knew their frivolity,

their vanity, their generosity, and their happy impulses. He

invoked all that was great and good in the heart of man; not by

vain declamations, but by energetic appeals to sentiments which

one would blush not to possess. He drew his inspirations from the

noblest patriotism, and his politics--a rare exception--had their

source in the deepest affections of his heart.

Hence it was that the people were so much attached to

Demosthenes, and that he, on his part, could place such unbounded

confidence in them.

AEschines had complained that Demosthenes had reproached him with

being the host of Alexander. He answered him in these terms:--"I

reproach you with being the host of Alexander! I reproach you

with Alexander's friendship! How could you attain it? By what

means? No, I cannot call you either the friend of Philip or the

host of Alexander; I am not so foolish. Are reapers and hirelings

called the hosts of those who pay them? He is nothing, nothing of

the kind. First, a mercenary of Philip, he is now the mercenary

of Alexander; that is what I and all our hearers call you. If you

doubt it, ask them ... or, rather, I will do it for you. Men of

Athens, what, then, is your opinion? Is AEschines the host, or

the mercenary of Alexander? ... Do you hear their reply?"

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So likewise Saint John Chrysostom, who was, perhaps, the most

popular of orators. We do not find that he amused himself with

vain speculations. He did not wander far and wide to hunt up

topics whereon to address his hearers, for they themselves

supplied all that he wanted. He found ample materials for his

purpose in the depths of their minds and hearts, and under his

masterly treatment the simplest things acquired an accent of

eloquence which gratified and moved his audience, which the

people understood and the learned admired.

Surrounded by his congregation, he seems like a father in the

midst of his family. He converses, he questions, he even

consults, and he always loves.

It was the custom in his time for the audience to applaud the

preacher during the sermon. They did not spare him that

manifestation, and these are the terms in which he complains of

it:--

"Believe me--the more so because I would not say it were it not

true--that when you applaud my discourses, I am seized with a

certain infirmity, and feel quite contented and happy. ... But,

on returning home, I reflect that all fruit of my speaking is

lost through these applauses and commendations;

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and I say to myself: Of what avail is my labor if my hearers do

not profit thereby? I have even thought of making a rule

positively to forbid all applause, that you may listen to me in

silence, with proper decorum and reserve. ... I pray and

conjure you to suffer me to establish such a rule forthwith.

... Let us now order that no hearer shall make any noise while

the preacher is speaking; and that if any one wishes to admire,

let it be by keeping silence. (Applause.) Why do you still

applaud me, even while I am making a law to prohibit the abuse?

Though you will not suffer me to speak to you on the subject,

nevertheless, let us enact the law, for it will be to our

advantage. ... However, I do not wish to be too rigorous, for

fear of appearing uncivil in your estimation; so that if you

find so much gratification in applauding, I shall not hinder

it; but I will suggest to you a much superior motive for

eliciting still greater applause on your part, namely, that you

carry away with you what you hear, and practise it."

When condemned to his first exile, the people flocked round their

pastor, determined to proceed to extremities rather than let him

depart. He then addressed them the following touching farewell:--

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"A violent tempest surrounds me on all sides; but I fear

nothing, because I stand on an immovable rock. The fury of the

waves cannot sink the vessel of Jesus Christ. Death cannot

terrify me; it would rather be a gain to me. Do I fear exile?

All the earth is the Lord's. Do I fear the loss of goods? Naked

I was born into the world, and naked I shall return. I despise

the scorn and the flattery of the world. I have no desire to

live but for your welfare."

The people remained with him eight days to defend him, and the

holy pastor, in order to prevent an insurrection, escaped by a

secret door, and delivered himself up to his enemies. The Empress

_Eudoxia_, however, was soon obliged to recall him. "We shall

lose the empire," said she, "unless John is recalled."

Then, again, O'Connell, that orator who acquired so wide an

influence, how popular he was! But I shall let M. de Cormenin

describe him:--

"Look at O'Connell with his people--for they are truly his

people. He lives of their life, he smiles with their joys, he

bleeds with their wounds, he groans with their pains. He

transports them at his will from fear to hope, from slavery to

liberty, from the fact to the right, from the right to duty,

from supplication to invective, and from anger to mercy and

pity. He directs the people to kneel on the ground and pray,

and they all kneel and pray; to raise their faces to the skies,

and they raise them; to curse their tyrants, and they curse

them; to sing hymns to liberty, and they sing them; to bare

their heads and swear on the holy Gospels, and they uncover,

raise the hand, and swear; to sign petitions for the reform of

abuses, to unite their forces, to pardon their enemies, and

they sign, they forget, they embrace, they forgive.

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"That which makes him incomparable among all the orators of

this or any other country, is that, without any premeditation,

and by impulse alone, by the sole force of his powerful and

triumphant nature, he enters wholly into his subject, and

appears to be more possessed by it than of himself. His heart

overflows; it goes by bounds, by transports, bringing into play

all its pulsations. Like a high-bred charger, suddenly pulled

back on its nervous and quivering haunches, even so can

O'Connell arrest himself in the unbridled course of his

harangues, turn short and resume them--such versatility,

spring, and vigor is there in his eloquence. You imagine at

first that he is staggering, and about to succumb under the

weight of the divinity which inwardly agitates him; but he

rises again with a halo on his brow, an eye full of flame, and

his voice, unlike that of a mortal, begins to resound in the

air, and to fill all space.

"He is lyrical as a poet, and familiar even to playfulness. He

draws his audience to him, and then transfers them to the floor

of the theatre; or descends himself and mixes with the

spectators. He never allows the stage to be without speech or

action for a single moment.

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He distributes the parts to each. He himself sits as judge: he

arraigns and he condemns; the people ratify, upraise the hand,

and seem to believe that they are joining in a verdict. Some

times O'Connell adapts the interior drama of a family to the

external drama of political affairs. He calls up his aged

father, his ancestors and the ancestors of the people. ... He

disposes and extemporizes narratives, monologues, dialogues,

_propoeia_, interludes, and peripatetics. Knowing that the

Irish are both light-hearted and melancholy, that they are fond

of metaphor, flourish, and sarcasm, he stifles laughter with

tears, the grandiose by the grotesque. He attacks the House of

Lords, and, chasing them from their aristocratic lairs, tracks

them one by one like wild beasts. He is always popular, be his

speech grave, sublime, or jocular:--

"'Ireland! oh, how that name alone sticks in the Saxon throat.

My friends, my heart and my mind are known to you, and I wish

you to understand this, that I have power enough to prevent

either Peel or Wellington from treading on the liberties of

Ireland. I have only to say this to them: We will entrench

ourselves behind the law and the constitution; but do not

attempt to put our patience to the test beyond bounds, for if

there is danger in exasperating cowards, there is a thousand

times more danger in exasperating those who are not.'

(Applause.)

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'I told you at the outset that I did not feel disposed to

speak: this is not a speech, it is history which I am making at

this moment. The people have placed unlimited confidence in me.

I might, perhaps, say with affected modesty that I do not

deserve it. I will be more frank. I believe that I do deserve

it.' (Applause: yes! yes!) 'Mine is a strange fortune. I

believe I am the only man, living or dead, who has enjoyed

uninterrupted confidence and popularity for forty years.

"_A voice_.--May you enjoy them twice as long!

"_O'C._--'That is impossible. Long before then, I shall be

summoned before my Maker to give an account of all the actions

of my public and private life.'

"_A voice_.--'You have always done your duty!'

"_O'C_.--May such be the judgment of the Most High!'

(Applause.) 'Kindly spare me these interruptions.' (Laughter.)

'Our first duty is to obey the law. Don't think that in giving

you this advice I intend that you should submit to unlawful

outrage. After all, violence is not what I fear--I who am alone

in the world.' (Cries of no, no, you are not alone!) 'Pardon

me, my friends, I am alone; for she for whom I might have

entertained fears, but whose courage would certainly never have

failed, has been taken from my affections.' (O'Connell

pronounced these last words with deep emotion, in which the

whole assembly seemed to participate. Several ladies present

raised their handkerchiefs to their eyes.)

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"'Were they to put a gag in my mouth or handcuffs on my wrists,

I would still point out the safest and wisest course for you to

follow. I trust there will be no conflict: let us close our

ranks, shoulder to shoulder, let us rally round the

constitution, that Ireland may not be delivered over to her

enemies by the folly, the passions, or the treachery of her

children.' (Applause.)"

He knows how to excite the laughter of his audience, and to

enliven them with racy comparisons, which are sometimes, however,

of a kind unsuited to Christian discourses.

"There was formerly a fool in Kerry--a rare thing there. This

fool having discovered a hen's nest, waited till the hen had

quitted it, and then took the eggs and sucked them. After

sucking the first, the chicken which had been in the shell

began to cry out while descending the fool's throat. 'Ah, my

boy, said he, 'you speak too late.' (Laughter.) My friends, I

am not a fool; I know how to suck eggs. (Laughter.) Should

England now be disposed to tell me that she is ready to do us

justice, I would say to England as the Kerry fool said to the

chicken: My darling, you speak too late. (Laughter and

applause.)"

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He then continued, in the most sublime and rapturous accents:--

"In the presence of my God, and with the most profound feeling

of the responsibility attached to the solemn and arduous duties

which you Irishmen have twice imposed on me, I accept them,

relying not on my own strength, but on yours. The people of

Clare know that the only basis of liberty is religion. They

have triumphed because the voice raised in behalf of the

country was first uttered in prayer to God. Songs of liberty

are now heard throughout our green isle, their notes traverse

the hills, they fill the valleys, they murmur with the waves of

our rivers and streams, and respond in tones of thunder to the

echoes of the mountains. Ireland is free!"

One may readily conceive the magic of this speech. I borrow once