The application of what has been said, to the case before us, is sufficiently obvious. In addressing a large assembly, you know that each of them sympathizes both with your own anxiety to acquit yourself well, and also with the same feeling in the minds of the rest. You know also, that every slip you may be guilty of, that may tend to excite ridicule, pity, disgust, &c. makes the stronger impression on each of the hearers, from their mutual sympathy, and their consciousness of it. This augments your anxiety. Next, you know that each hearer, putting himself mentally, in the speaker's place, sympathizes with this augmented anxiety: which is by this thought increased still further. And if you become at all embarrassed, the knowledge that there are so many to sympathize, not only with that embarrassment, but also with each other's feelings on the perception of it, heightens your confusion to the utmost. The same causes will account for a skilful orator's being able to rouse so much more easily, and more powerfully the passions of a multitude; they inflame each other by mutual sympathy, and mutual consciousness of it. And hence it is that a bolder kind of language is suitable to such an audience; a passage which, in the closet, might, just at the first glance, tend to excite awe, compassion, indignation, or any other such emotion, but which would, on a moment's cool reflection, appear extravagant, may be very suitable for the Agonistic style; because, before that moment's reflection could take place in each hearer's mind, he would be aware that every one around him sympathized in that first emotion which would thus become so much heightened as to preclude, in a great degree, the ingress of any counteracting sentiment. If one could suppose such a case as that of a speaker, (himself aware of the circumstance,) addressing a multi * Hence it is that shy persons are, as is matter of common remark, the more distressed by this infirmity when in company with those who are subject to the same. tude, each of whom believed himself to be the sole hearer, it is probable that little or no embarrassment would be felt, and a much more sober, calm, and finished style of language would be adopted. § 9. The impossibility of bringing the delivery of a written composition completely with the exSympathy to a level with a real extemporary speaking, temporane(though, as has been said, it may approach in surous speaker indefinitely near to such an effect,) is ex- mounting plained on the same principle. Besides that his diffithe audience are more sure that the thoughts culty. they hear expressed, are the genuine emanation of the speaker's mind at the moment,* their attention and interest are the more excited by their sympathy with one whom they perceive to be carried forward solely by his own unaided and unremitted efforts, without having any book to refer to; they view him as a swimmer supported by his own constant exertions; and in every such case, if the feat be well accomplished, the surmounting of the difficulty affords great gratification; especially to those who are conscious that they could not do the same. And one proof, that part of the pleasure conveyed does arise from this source, is, that as the spectators of an exhibition of supposed unusual skill in swimming, would instantly withdraw most of their interest and admiration, if they perceived that the performer was supported by corks, or the like; so would the feelings alter of the hearers of a supposed extemporaneous discourse, as soon as they should perceive, or even suspect, that the orator had it written down before him. § 10. The way in which the respective inconveniences of both kinds of discourses may best be avoided, is evident from what Remedy proposed. * It is not meant by this that an extemporary speaker necessarily composes (in respect of his matter) extempore, or that he professes to do so but only, that if he frames each sentence at the moment, he must, at that moment, have the sentiment which is expressed in it strongly present to his mind. has been already said. Let both the extemporary Speaker, and the Reader of his own compositions, study to avoid, as far as possible, all thoughts of self, earnestly fixing the mind on the matter of what is delivered; and the one will feel the less of that embarrassment which arises from the thought of what opinion the hearers will form of him; while the other will appear to be speaking, because he actually will be speaking, the sentiments, not indeed which at that time first arise in his own mind, but which are then really present to, and occupy his mind CHAP. IV.-Practical deductions from the foregoing Original tions suita- views. § 1. One of the consequences of the adoption of the mode of elocution here recommended, is, that he who endeavours to emnatural de- ploy it will find a growing reluctance to the livery. delivery, as his own, of any but his own compositions. Conclusions, indeed, and arguments he may freely borrow; but he will be led to compose his own discourses, from finding that he cannot deliver those of another to his own satisfaction, without laboriously studying them, as an actor does his part, so as to make them, in some measure, his own. And with this view, he will generally find it advisable to introduce many alterations in the expression, not with any thought of improving the style, absolutely, but only with a view to his own delivery. And indeed, even his own previous compositions, he will be led to alter, almost as much, in point of expression, in order to accommodate them to the Natural manner of delivery. Much that would please in the closet-much of the Graphic style described by Aristotle, will be laid aside for the Agonistic;--for a style somewhat more blunt and homelymore simple, and, apparently unstudied in its structure, and, at the same time, more daringly energetic. And if again he is desirous of fitting his discourses for the press, he will find it expedient to reverse this process, and alter the style afresh. In many instances accordingly, the perusal of a manuscript sermon would afford, from the observation of its style, a tolerably good ground of conjecture as to the author's customary elocution. For instance, a rapid elocution suits the more full, and a slow one, the more concise style; and great variations in the degree of rapidity of delivery are suited to the corresponding variations in the style. A mere sermon-reader, on the contrary, will avoid this inconvenience, and this labour; he will be able to deliver another's discourses nearly as well as his own; and may send his own to the press, without the necessity of any great preparation: but he will purchase these advantages at the expense of more than half the force which might have been given to the sentiments uttered. And he will have no right to complain that his discourses, though replete perhaps with good sense, learning, and eloquence, are received with languid apathy, or that many are seduced from their attendance on his teaching, by the vapid rant of an illiterate fanatic. Much of these evils must indeed be expected, after all, to remain but he does not give himself a fair chance for diminishing them, unless he does justice to his own arguments, instructions, and exhortations, by speaking them, in the only effectual way, to the hearts of his hearers; that is, as uttered naturally from his own. I have seen, somewhere, an anecdote of some celebrated actor being asked by a divine, "How is it that people listen with so much emotion to what you say, which they know to be all fictitious, besides that it would be no concern of their's, even if true; while they hear with comparative apathy, from us, truths, the most sublime, and the most important to them?" The answer was, "Because we deliver fiction like truth, and you deliver truth like fiction." The principles here laid down may help to explain a rant ac remarkable fact which is usually attributed Effects of to other than the true causes. The power counted for. ful effects often produced by some fanatical preachers, not superior in pious and sincere zeal, and inferior in learning, in good sense, and in taste, to men who are listened to with comparative apathy, are frequently considered as a proof of superior eloquence; though an eloquence tarnished by barbarism, and extravagant mannerism. Now may not such effects result, not from any superior powers in the preacher, but merely from the intrinsic beauty and sublimity, and the measureless importance of the subject? But why then, it may be replied, does not the other preacher, whose subject is the very same, produce the same effect? The answer is, because he is but half-attended to. The ordinary measured cadence of reading, is not only in itself dull, but is what men are familiarly accustomed to religion itself also, is a subject so familiar, in a certain sense, (familiar, that is, to the ear,) as to be trite, even to those who know and think little about it. Let but the attention be thoroughly roused, and intently fixed on such a stupendous subject, and that subject itself will produce the most overpowering emotion. And not only unaffected earnestness of manner, but, perhaps, even still more, any uncouth oddity, and even ridiculous extravagance, will, by the stimulus of novelty, have the effect of thus rousing the hearers from their ordinary lethargy. So that a preacher of little or no real eloquence, will sometimes, on such a subject, produce the effects of the greatest eloquence, by merely forcing the hearers (often, even by the excessively glaring faults of his style and delivery) to attend, to a subject which no one can really attend to unmoved. The It will not of course be supposed that my intention is to recommend the adoption of extravagant rant. good effects which it undoubtedly does sometimes produce, incidentally, in some, is more than counterbalanced by the mischievous consequences to another. |