Action.
Action should be:
first, true and natural;
secondly, concentrated;
thirdly, edifying.
It should be cultivated.
How cultivated by the Society of Jesus.
Suggestions.
Action is not mere gesture, neither is it motion nor sound. It is
the manifestation of the thoughts and sentiments of the soul
through the bodily organs. It is the soul which, unable to reveal
itself, makes its material exterior the medium of communicating
its conceptions of truth and love to the souls of others.
The principle of action should be the heart. ... Action itself
may be in the voice, in gesture, in the face, in the hand, in
demeanor generally, and even in silence. ...
Action plays a conspicuous part in eloquence. We are familiar
with what Demosthenes said on the subject. Being asked three
times what was the first quality in an orator, he thrice
replied:--Action. This is an exaggerated judgment; but
Demosthenes probably estimated action in proportion to the pains
which its acquirement had cost him: nevertheless, it is certain
that action adds greatly to the clearness, the weight, the
impressiveness, and the power of thought.
{255}
It is the charm of eloquence. Saint François de Sales writes:
"You may utter volumes, and yet if you do not utter them well, it
is lost labor, Speak but little, and that little well, and you
may effect much."
Only a few are capable of appreciating the intrinsic value of a
discourse; whereas all can see whether you speak from an inward
sense of the truth--from the heart and from personal conviction.
It is more especially upon the people that action produces a
powerful effect; it attracts, it transports them. A preacher who
possesses sterling and noble ideas, who has genuine sentiment and
true action, is irresistible with them. Such weapons will
assuredly do great havoc among them; or, as I should rather say,
will save many. They may not always admit their discomfiture: but
they will not hesitate to confess that your words are weighty and
true, and tell against them.
But in order to be impressive, action must be: first, true and
natural; secondly, concentrated; thirdly, edifying. ...
1. In the first place, the preacher should be himself, and should
speak like a man. It is preeminently in the pulpit that every
thing should be genuine: that every accessory should harmonize
with the thoughts; that the eye, the look, and the hand should
corroborate what is uttered by the lips.
{256}
Strange to say, hardly any attention is paid to this point. Once
in the pulpit, it seems to be taken for granted that no effort is
required to give the truth distinctness. Words are strung on to
words, and any tone of voice is deemed appropriate. ... The
preacher speaks as nobody in the world ever spoke: he bawls,
chants, or sings without modulation and without feeling. Hence, a
malicious wag on hearing a preacher pronounce those terrible
words: "Depart ye cursed!" in a bland tone, turned to his
companion, and said: "Come here, my lad, and let me embrace you;
that is what the preacher has just expressed."
Everywhere else, men speak; they speak at the bar and the
tribune; but they no longer speak in the pulpit, for there we
only meet with a factitious and artificial language, and a false
tone. ...
This style of speaking is only tolerated in the Church, because,
unfortunately, it is so general there; elsewhere it would not be
endured. ... What would be thought of a man who should converse
in a similar way in a drawing-room? He would certainly provoke
many a smile.
Some time ago, there was a warden at the Pantheon--a good sort of
fellow in his way--who, in enumerating the beauties of the
monument, adopted precisely the tone of many of our preachers,
and never failed thereby to excite the hilarity of the visitors,
who were as much amused with his style of address as with the
objects of interest which he pointed out to them.
{257}
A man who has not a natural and true delivery, should not be
allowed to occupy the pulpit; from thence, at least, every thing
that is false should be summarily banished. ...
But is it so very difficult to be one's self? Assume your usual
voice, your usual manner, modifying them according to the number
of your hearers, and the truth which you are about to set forth.
Let your speech be frank, sincere, cordial, revealing a true and
affectionate soul. Be yourself, and be persuaded that to be so
suits you best. Make manifest your heart, your soul; for there is
nothing so attractive as a soul. Saint Catherine of Sienna said
that if a soul could be seen, she believed that people would die
of happiness at the sight.
Look at the man who has a cause to plead, or one who is moved
with a strong passion; he is always true--true even to grandeur.
In these days of mistrust, every thing that is false should be
set aside; and the best way of correcting one's self in that
respect, as regards preaching, is frequently to listen to certain
monotonous and vehement preachers. We shall come away in such
disgust, and with such a horror of their delivery, that we shall
prefer condemning ourselves to silence rather than imitate them.
{258}
The instant you abandon the natural and the true, you forego the
right to be believed, as well as the right of being listened to.
2dly. Action should be concentrated: that is to say, it should
proceed from a soul which is itself convinced, penetrated,
fervent; which puts a restraint upon itself that it may not say
all that it feels: unless it be from time to time, like the
flames which escape at intervals from a volcano. Inward fervor
harmonizes with the sacred word, whereas excessive noise and
motion are wholly unsuited to it. If a passionate outburst
sometimes escapes us, it should be repressed forthwith. Père
Ravignan is admirable in this respect: after thundering at his
audience, he immediately resumes the most benignant countenance.
In the first place, the preacher should be calm; master of
himself as well as of his subject. He should have a steady
demeanor, should keep his forces well in hand, not relinquish his
hold over them, unless it be designedly, and never lose
self-control:--_be carried away and yet possess himself, and
retain self-possession while allowing himself to be carried
away_.
Vocal power and bodily motion are frequently very much abused.
{259}
The more a man shouts, the greater effect he is believed to
produce, and the greater orator he is held to be. Often, however,
it is quite the reverse. Genuine passion--passion driven to
extremities--speaks low, says little, and that little in a few
detached words. The most captivating eloquence is that which says
much in a few words, and that noiselessly. ...
The vocal power is the animal part of man; he shares it in common
with the brute creation, who often possess it in a high degree.
But the distinguishing sign of intelligence is the consonant.
Well-educated men attend less to sound than to articulation. The
vowel is the letter that kills; the consonant is the spirit which
vivifies.
Bodily motion should be moderate; too much motion wearies the
preacher and the audience likewise, and distracts their
attention. One may be eloquent without much gesticulation. There
is a famous preacher who generally speaks with his hand in his
robes, whose discourses, nevertheless, are very powerful. ...
Here, also, the same reflection which was made above recurs to
us; namely, that a profound passion is scarcely ever accompanied
with agitation; it is unmoved, prostrate, and does not manifest
itself except by occasional sudden outbursts. Mistakes are often
made on this score, and that is thought to be a fervent sermon
which is delivered with much bawling and much gesticulation.
{260}
It is true, as M. de Cormenin remarks, that the people are fond
of expressive gestures, such as are visible at a distance, and
above the heads of the congregation; that they also like a
powerful and thrilling voice; ... but all this cannot be kept up
long, for preacher and hearers soon, grow tired of it. Then,
again, the people are fond of variety, and a monotonous voice
sends them to sleep. That the delivery of a sermon should
sometimes be accompanied with significant gestures, and that
emotion should occasionally vent itself in an outburst, is all
well enough; but compress such power as much as possible, so that
it may be felt that you possess within your own soul a force
threefold greater than you outwardly manifest. ... The more
vehement you wish your sermon to be, the more you should restrain
the air in its passage, forcing it to make its way in thrilling
explosions and a resounding articulation. Then many will fall by
the sword of the word.
3dly. Action should be edifying.
The bearing of a man who speaks in the name of the Gospel should
be full of grace and truth. It is most desirable that he should
possess knowledge and talent, but those endowments do not
suffice; he must possess, in addition, a virtuous, yea, even a
holy exterior. Frenchmen are much more sensitive on this point
than is usually thought. A godly man at once inspires their
respect and veneration; and were a saint to appear in our midst,
it is certain that he would reproduce many of the scenes of the
middle ages. A saint is essentially a man beloved by the people,
because he is surrounded with a Divine halo.
{261}
The Christian orator makes his appearance with simplicity and
modesty. He kneels and bows profoundly, rises up, and then looks
round upon his audience with a kindly expression, devoutly makes
the sign of the cross, and then begins his sermon, thinking only
how to arrest the attention of his hearers.
The time is happily long gone by when the preacher used to enter
the pulpit with great formality, a flushed countenance, and hair
most carefully got up; then place by his side a fine white
handkerchief, sometimes of costly silk, which ever and anon he
methodically passed over his face. These airs no longer suit the
times: the preacher nowadays must not be engrossed with self,
with his handkerchief, or his surplice, or his hair; neither must
he cause others to be taken up with such trifles. In the pulpit
the man should disappear, and the apostle alone be seen. ...
The people, who have an exquisite notion of propriety, are very
sensitive on all such matters; and God often derides our affected
words and actions by rendering them vain and barren, and by
making use of the most insignificant things to convert the souls
of men.
{262}
A converted Parisian operative, a man of a wilful but frank
disposition, full of energy and spirit, who had often spoken with
great success at the clubs composed of men of his own class, was
asked by the priest who had reconciled him to God to inform him
by what instrumentality he who had once been so far estranged
from religion had eventually been restored to the faith. "Your
doing so," said his interrogator, "may be useful to me in my
efforts to reclaim others."
"I would rather not," replied he; "for I must candidly tell you
that you do not figure very conspicuously in the case."
"No matter," said the other; "it will not be the first time that
I have heard the same remark."
"Well, if you must hear it, I can tell you how it took place, in
a few words. A _religicuse_ had pestered me to read your little
book--pardon the expression: I used to speak in that style in
those days. On reading a few pages, I was so impressed that I
felt a strong desire to see you.
"I was told that you preached in a certain church, and I went to
hear you. Your sermon had some further effect upon me; but to
speak frankly, very little, comparatively, indeed, none at all.
{263}
What did much more for me was your open, simple, and good-natured
manner, and, above all, your ill-combed hair; _for I have always
detested those priests whose heads remind one of a hair-dresser's
assistant;_ and I said to myself: That man forgets himself on our
behalf; we ought, therefore, to do something for his sake.'
Thereupon I determined to pay you a visit, and you _bagged me_.
Such was the beginning and end of the affair."
The thought should never be absent from our minds that we preach
the Gospel, and that the Gospel is preeminent in inculcating love
toward humanity. Away, then, with all domineering and dictatorial
airs! Away with all violent language! The people regard it as the
ebullition of anger, and are not at all edified thereby.
On the other hand, in order to succeed, the heart of the preacher
must first be penetrated with what he teaches; an appropriate
accent will follow of itself. There are men who carry about with
them something godlike. ... Such men are eagerly listened to,
they are believed, and then loved.
From what has been said, it is obvious that we should train
ourselves to obtain proficiency in action.
{264}
Action is the manifestation of the thoughts of the soul through
the medium of the body. But the body often rebels and weighs down
the soul; and in this, as well as in many other things, requires
to be suppled, mortified, disciplined to obedience. However
strong the soul may be, it rarely gets the mastery over the body
at the outset, and does its part very inefficiently. It is the
same with soldiers. When a young conscript first joins his
regiment he is heavy and awkward, and his military arms seem a
burden to him. Six months later all this is changed: he is quick
and smart, and carries his arms with quite a French grace. The
same transformation may be effected as regards public speaking.
One who has had considerable experience in the direction of
seminaries, has written the following; which I feel it a duty to
transcribe entire:--
"It is incumbent on a preacher to possess oratorical action,
and to practise himself therein until he has acquired it.
Conscience, indeed, must tell him that he ought not to neglect
a matter on which the success of his ministry depends; and that
if, to the mischief of men's souls, theatrical actors spare no
pains to attain perfection in action, the preacher should
strive, with at least an equal zeal, to become proficient in
that respect for the good of men's souls. What! shall the
ministers of God weaken by vicious action the force of all they
say, while the ministers of Satan, by consummate skill in
action, redeem the vanity of their speeches, and impassion the
souls of their audience! Surely, this would be a disgrace to
the clergy, and an outrage on the word of God.
{265}
"If it be objected that in the case under consideration art is
useless, because nature teaches what is needful, we reply, with
Quintilian:--_Nihil licet esse perfcctum, nisi ubi natura curâ
juvatur_. All talents are rude and unformed until the precepts
of art refine and impart to them that polish which makes them
valuable. Demosthenes had few natural gifts for public
speaking; but exercise and experience gave what nature had
denied him.
"If it be objected, further, that the Apostles never learnt the
rules of action, we reply that they received the power of
miracles--a more than adequate compensation for human
eloquence. That, moreover, they received the gifts of the Holy
Spirit, which enabled them to proclaim the Gospel worthily.
That, inspired by that Divine Spirit, they were eloquent in
action as well as in speech; and that St. Paul would not have
been listened to on the Areopagus unless he had been able to
captivate the eloquent people whom he addressed, as well by
external action as by the sublimity of his language.
"Saint Charles directed that the candidates for holy orders in
his seminary should be exercised several times a week in public
speaking; and the Church has always followed the same practice.
The Fathers also bestowed much attention on the formation of
speech. Deprive me of every thing else, says Saint Gregory of
Nazianzen, but leave me eloquence, and I shall never regret the
voyages which I have made in order to study it." [Footnote 20]
[Footnote 20: _Traité de la Prédication_. By M. Hamon, Curé
de Saint-Sulpice.]
{266}
What we are most deficient in is articulation--that powerful
articulation which isolates, engraves, and chisels a thought ...
which fills the ear with harmony and the soul with truth; which
gives the orator an extraordinary power of animation, by bringing
into play the whole nervous system. We have already remarked that
the force of a word is entirely in the consonant, whereas it is
often laid on the vowel. The emission of the vowel is the rude
block; the consonant is the artist's chisel, which works it into
a masterpiece. ... It appears to be frequently imagined that it
requires as much effort to discharge waves of air as to hurl a
heavy club into space; but it is not so in the least. What is
needed is that the air should be compressed and triturated, and
reduced into expressive and harmonious sounds. It is from
misapprehension on this score that so many preachers fume and
tire themselves and others, and that some appear like men who
disgorge words which they have swallowed by mistake. A little
practice would prevent them from falling into these and similar
aberrations.
{267}
At the same time, we should not practise, as is often done, upon
every sermon which we preach, for by so doing we shall be apt to
deliver them very badly. It is scarcely in nature to prepare
sentiments beforehand. As M. de Cormenin satirically puts
it:--"Be impassioned, thunder, rage, weep, up to the fifth word,
of the third sentence, of the tenth paragraph, of the tenth leaf.
How easy that would be! above all, how very natural!"
The course to be pursued is this:--we should practise ourselves
in the delivery of the several parts of a discourse, such as the
expository, the demonstrative, and especially those which give
expression to the different passions. That done, and when once in
the pulpit, such studies should cease to occupy the mind.
The exercise thus insisted on is practised in other professions.
Men who devote themselves to the theatre, cultivate their voices
and their limbs. Young law students and advocates have their
conferences, where they train themselves to plead at the bar; and
yet those who are called to save souls neglect to cultivate the
talents which God has given them!
This is the usual process:--A young man composes a sermon while
at college, which is generally made up of odds and ends and
quotations, and in putting them together he does his best not to
be himself. With this stuff he mounts the pulpit, it may be of a
town church or even of a cathedral; and behold him a full-fledged
preacher! And then, forsooth, astonishment is expressed because
the faithful are bored, and do not come to listen to us! The
wonder is that so many attend our sermons.
{268}
But let us be just: all do not entertain this idea of sacred
eloquence. By certain religious orders, the Jesuits for example,
it is regarded in quite a different light. I crave pardon for
revealing their family secrets; but it is for the good of souls.
A novice among the Jesuits, no matter what he may have been
previously--whether a lawyer, author, preacher, canon, grand
vicar, bishop, or even a cardinal--must attend a reading-class
three or four times a week. There he is made to read like a
child, is taught to articulate and accentuate, and every now and
then is stopped while those present are called upon to point out
the merits and defects in his reading. This training is persisted
in until his pronunciation is perfect, and he is free from all
disagreeable accent.
But that is not all: every Monday during his noviciate, or during
the term of his studies, that is, for five, six, eight, or ten
years, he has to undergo a training in the _tones_, which
consists in his being made to recite what is called the formula
of the general _tones_--a short discourse, comprising all the
tones ordinarily used in oratorical compositions; such as the
tone of persuasion, of menace, of kindness, of anger, of the
mercy and justice of God, of prayer, and of authority.
{269}
Thereby the young preacher is taught how to supple, to break in
his own organism, and to adapt it to those different tones.
After these come the _special tones_. This consists of a short
discourse, to be composed in two hours on a given text, and must
contain certain specified strokes of oratory. Three or four of
the younger novices are exercised in this way, exclusive of the
sermons which are preached in the refectory.
But the most profitable part of the exercise is this, that after
reciting his tones, the preacher must remain in the pulpit while
the master of the novices asks some of the spectators what they
think of its substance, form, expression, etc., the poor patient
being present and obliged to hear all his faults detailed. This,
however, is done in all charity; and moreover, his good qualities
are pointed out in a similar way.
These are most interesting meetings. They comprise, besides young
lawyers and ecclesiastics, men of general experience, logicians,
poets, and preachers, who are all invited to express their
opinion with the greatest freedom.
The youngest are interrogated first; for the young are naturally
fastidious, and generally find much to blame. Time, however, will
correct them of that fault. After these come the older novices,
then the Jesuits well trained to preaching; and lastly, the
master of the novices, who sums up the different opinions
elicited, and then proceeds to expound the science.
{270}
It sometimes happens, however, that the judgments passed are so
well formulated and so well based, that, despite his desire to
criticise or to applaud, the master is obliged to modify his own
opinions.
When the young preacher leaves the pulpit, he retires to note
down his defects and merits, which he is subsequently expected to
read over from time to time.
One excellent feature in this exercise is the encouragement which
it is designed to impart; for besides pointing out defects, no
efforts are spared to develope in the novices the talents which
God has given them. They are made to understand that a man may do
good even though he be subject to half a dozen drawbacks.
Mistakes are often made on this score. One qualification only may
suffice to render a man a remarkable orator, whereas another may
be free from all obvious defects, and yet be a sorry speaker. The
Lord deliver us from a faultless preacher! for he is generally a
very bore, as incapable of a trait of genius as he is of a
blunder. Always intent on guarding against this and that defect,
he loses his personality. He is no longer a man; he is no longer
a priest: he is merely a scholar doing his recitation. ...
{271}
In order to form a young speaker into a good preacher, he should
first be set to address the lower classes. ... Among such
audiences he will be better able to discover his own special
talent, and to utilize his qualifications. The Jesuits pursue a
similar course.
The young Jesuit is sent to address the inmates of prisons and
hospitals; if in orders, he is charged with missions in rural
districts; if unordained, he is put to catechise; but always
accompanied by the indispensable _socius_, who is not chary of
criticising or applauding him. It is doubtless owing to this
training that the members of the Society of Jesus have acquired
that standing, power, and unction for which they are so
conspicuous.
Another advantage of this training is that it teaches the science
of life, and imparts wisdom in forming opinions.
If a young priest has not thoroughly studied the difficulties of
public speaking, he is apt to think that the art of preaching
consists in composing a sermon, learning it by rote, and then
delivering it without tripping. If he finds that he is considered
to have acquitted himself tolerably well, he is thenceforward
disposed to dogmatize remorselessly, and to tolerate no appeal
from his irrevocable verdicts, with all the stateliness of a man
who has the satisfaction of not knowing what he says.
{272}
But when a man has studied and labored, say, for fifteen years,
he becomes more indulgent and moderate, and begins to understand
that there may be other ways of doing good besides his own. A
priest who was once called upon to preach before several others
of the same profession, complained that their presence rather
embarrassed him. Whereupon one of our most celebrated orators
remarked:--"It is far better for you to have to deal with a dozen
of our first-rate preachers than with an equal number of curates
or even collegians."
Practice, therefore, is indispensable. But it will be urged:
"Where is the time to come from? One has so much to do during the
four years passed at college, and afterward in the work of the
ministry." Very true; still we are bound to pay attention to the
most essential requirements of our vocation: and should not
preaching be of the number nowadays? We learn dogmatic theology,
designed to serve as the ground-work for solid lectures; but if
nobody comes to hear them, or if they send the audience to sleep?
... Ethics also are learnt, and the solution of difficulties
which occur at the confessional: but what if the people do not
come to confession? ... It should ever be borne in mind that the
object and aim of our studies is _propter nos homines et propter
nostram salutem_. Then, again, might we not talk less about past
heresies and errors, and be more taken up with the time present?
{273}
Might we not also devote less attention to those doubtful
questions which are the great temptation as well as the great
bane of professors of theology and philosophy, who dilate at
great length on the opposite opinions held regarding them, never
omitting to add their own, and generally wind up somewhat in this
style: Decide as you please?
I submit these considerations to the wisdom and piety of the
directors of our colleges, who are well aware that a priest
should not be learned for himself only, but should be capable of
communicating what he knows to others, and of securing their
attachment to it.
Things are taken for granted which no longer exist. It is
supposed that the churches are full, that careless Christians
attend the services, and that the confessionals are frequented;
all of which are often mere gratuitous assumptions. Something
must be done before such notions are borne out by facts; namely,
our priests must be taught how to attract men to the church and
the confessional, and then to instruct them when they are there.
Lastly, the young students might meet together during the
vacations, and mutually aid one another by their common
experience. Parish priests might also meet in a similar manner,
and communicate to each other their reflections and the progress
of their labors, in all simplicity and charity, just as young
lawyers do.
{274}
Then we might anticipate the happiness of seeing every thing that
is false, borrowed, factitious, artificial, stiff, vehement,
trite, and noisy, together with all unmeaning action, monotony,
and _ennui_, descend from the pulpit; and of seeing their places
occupied by the true, the simple, the natural, the powerful: in a
word, by the Gospel.
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