Chapter IV.

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. {146} 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? {147} 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; {150} 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. {153} 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.) {154} '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 more from the pen of M. de Cormenin.

"Eloquence does not exercise all its power, its strong, sympathetic, moving power, except upon the people. Look at O'Connell, the grandest, perhaps the only orator of modern times. How his thundering voice towers over and rules the waves of the multitude! I am not an Irishman, I have never seen O'Connell; I believe I should not understand him. Why, then, am I moved by his discourses even when translated into a strange tongue, discolored, stunted, and deprived of the charm of voice and action more than with all I have ever heard in my own country? {157} It is because they are utterly unlike our jumbled, wordy rhetoric; because it is true passion that inspires him: passion which can and does say all that it has to say. It is, that he draws me from the shore, that he whirls with me, and drags me with him into his current. It is that he shudders, and I shudder; that he utters cries from the depths of his soul which ravish my soul; that he raises me on his wings and sustains me in the sacred transports of liberty. Under the influence of his sublime eloquence, I abhor, I detest with furious hatred, the tyrants of that unfortunate country, just as if I were O'Connell's fellow-citizen; and I seem to love green Ireland as much as my own native land."

Here we have an orator who should be constantly studied by all those who wish to benefit the people.

There is a wide difference between such powerful speeches and those dreary metaphysical sermons, those finely-spun phrases, that quintessence of reasoning, so common amongst us. For, what do we often take for an orator or preacher? ... One who wraps himself in his own conceptions, and soars into sublime regions, while the poor audience is left on the plain below to gaze at him or not, to grow weary, to sleep or to chat, when they cannot decently go away. And yet it is so easy to be popular in France. The native mind is prompt and readily roused to the noblest sentiments. {158} Moreover, we are bound to do the higher classes this justice, that they always tolerate and even admire the preacher who addresses the people. They mingle with the crowd to join in their applause, and, what is better, to profit by what they hear. Yes, strange to say, under the influence of such eloquence, scholars and wits throw aside their arguments and their prejudices, and become one with the people--think, feel, and commend as they do. ... There are two powerful ways of leading men: to take up with the higher classes or to go to the masses. The latter appears the more powerful nowadays, for opinion and strength always prevail with those whose wills are feeble.

We must retrace our steps, then, and resume a popular style of address, which, to use a homely comparison, consists simply in entering in by the door of the people, and making them go out by ours; for to be truly popular is: to love the people ardently, to throw our souls into theirs, to identify ourselves with them; to think, feel, will, love, as they do; to rouse their instincts of justice, generosity, and pity; to fill their souls with the noblest thoughts; to exalt with the breath of the Gospel their holiest aspirations, and to send these back to them in burning words, in outbursts and sallies of the heart; and then, as with a back-stroke of the hand, to crush their errors and destroy their vices, and to lead them onward after you, while they shall believe that they are still leading the way; to abase them to the lowest depths, and then to raise them to heaven. {159} In all this, making them to play so prominent a part that, after hearing you, they may almost be led to say with secret satisfaction:--"What an excellent sermon we have delivered!" Then will your words be invested with the two greatest powers in the world: they will be the voice of the people and the voice of God.

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