XVI.

ON PREACHING.

WHEN We consider the frequency of the occasion, the nobleness of the topics, their supreme importance, the efficacy of the act well performed, the genius requisite, the variety of congregations, the number of preachers, we are at a complete stand to account for the deplorably low state of preaching. This confession, extorted from us by the facts of the case, may afford matter of astonishment to many who are very well satisfied with the present state of the pulpit-who ask for nothing better-who perhaps could not comprehend anything superior. We have always been well pleased at the recollection of that passage in the Spectator, where Sir Roger de Coverly's parish clergyman being asked who was to preach on the next Sunday for him, replied, Doctor South in the morning and Doctor Barrow in the evening-meaning that he intended reading a sermon from those great divines on both occasions. We heartily wish some of the divines of this day would have the courage, as well as the good sense, to adopt a similar practice at suitable opportunities. In point of essential merit, no critic, any way qualified, would hesitate to give the preference to one of South's best sermons over a majority of modern discourses even by divines of considerable

a minister would then understand his theme better than now, that he is obliged to write so frequently and at such comparatively short notice.

To this practice the majority of congregations might demur, so strong is the hold of ancient usage upon men's minds. The curse of political seems to be the predominant vice of religious corporations, viz: a blindness to innovation—even when wholesome reform; a prejudice in favor of existing practices. Many good people appear to suspect indolence or indifference on the part of a preacher who reads a printed sermon. They call it an imposition. They must have a return for the salary. But is a meager discourse from your parson as well worth your attention as a sermon from the lips of the English Chrysostoms and Austins? As it is, are they all original preachers who deliver written sermons? A sermon may be transferred as well as anything else. There are other "conveyances" besides those of a legal description. The very critics, who speak so authoritatively, are not always acquainted with the sources of the finest thoughts and most sparkling fancies. When they abuse the preacher's tediousness, they may be reflecting upon Tillotson; and when pleased with a graceful expression, they may be only assenting to the sentiment of Sherlock or Atterbury.

In no department of literature perhaps (considered as such) is a greater decline more manifestly evident than in the eloquence of the pulpit. Most of the current spoken eloquence is confessedly very vapid, and even tiresome, when transferred to paper. Sergeant Talfourd, a man of elegant poetic talent, and a popular debater, a very considerable portion of whose enviable reputation is derived from his efforts at the bar and in the House, acknowledges

the fact in explicit terms in his memoirs of Charles Lamb. This declaration, from the pen of the author of Ion, should certainly weigh as powerful evidence with those who consider the transitory impressions a practical and fluent speaker can create as incomparably superior to the elaborate thought and rich fancy of the studious author. There are popular speakers, both in the Pulpit and in the Senate, whose oratorical art enables them to control or excite the passions at will, who yet prudently abstain from publication, and thus tacitly confess the decay of the literature of eloquence and their inferiority as writers. It is no disgrace for a man to be inferior in one department, merely because he is excellent in another. Speaking and writing are separate arts, and the distinct merits of each are only confounded by those who cannot discriminate, but know only how to extol or condemn. The nice shades of difference, which constitute this (so real) distinction, are perfectly perceptible and unquestionably true. We are acquainted with, and have listened to brilliant speakers, whose written compositions are below mediocrity, or, at best, only on a par with it. But this should not oblige us to deny the palpable fact of the great scarcity of good, not to say excellent, sermons published nowadays.

A defect of literary accomplishment, then, among the body of the clergy, may be taken as the cause of the inferiority of modern sermons; style and manner are not sufficiently attended to. Art is neglected, and yet pulpit eloquence is an art, as much so as political, and a higher art, at the same time. Natural eloquence is not enough by itself; it must be trimmed and trained by scholarship, research, elegance and breeding. To the sacred character of Divine must be appended the no less valuable,

though less sacred characters of scholar, critic, orator, and gentleman. Arrayed in such vestments, the clerical character shines the leading order. Deprived of these accessory qualities and ornaments, it is likely to be abused and degraded.

The clergy and religious critics of certain denominations appear to think just the reverse of this to be the correct view. Learning and eloquence, they seem to hold in puritanical abhorrence, and to consider the cause of religion disgraced by the splendid displays of human genius. They oppose taste and piety, and an evangelical spirit, to an inventive imagination; as if for a moment, a man of sense could conceive any preference, or even hint at a comparison; such parallels are offensive, both to religion and criticism. Narrow bigots! ought they not rather to regard the highest efforts of intellectual power as the truest adoration of the Supreme Being? To honor or glorify that sacred name,-is it not the loftiest occupation of humanity? A hymn to its praise, the sublimest strain of poesy? insomuch that a man can evince no higher ambition than that of the great preacher.

The perfect pulpit-orator should be a saint and an orator united; a Paul, an Augustine, a Jeremy Taylor. No years of study, no libraries, no studious pursuits are wasted. on him whose office it is to minister at the altar. His is the highest of all duties that of Adoration and Prayer: to perform these duties with dignity, ignorance is by no means the most fitting preparative.

A consequence of this vitiated style of composition is seen in the vitiated taste of audiences. They take their standard from contemporary preaching (few scholars con