Chapter X.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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"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.]

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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.

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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.

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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. ...

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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.

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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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