LIBRARY OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 
 
 PRINCETON. N. J. 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Princeton University Library 
 
 Division 
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^OFLSSOR OF THEOLOGY IN 
 
SKETCHES 
 
 OF 
 
 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 BY REV. JTB?\VATEEBUEY, D. D. 
 
 'Now then we are ambassadors for Christ. 
 
 • » 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 
 
 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
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 >>> 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 the American Tract Society, in the Clerk's Office of the District 
 Court of the Southern District of the State of New York. 
 
 \% 
 
 
 £ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 DR. JOHN M MASON, - - 5 
 
 DR. ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER, - 14 
 
 REV. JOHN SUMMERFLELD, 23 
 
 REV. SYLVESTER EARNED, - 33 
 
 DR. ASAHEL NETTLETON, - --- 42 
 
 DR. LYMAN BEECHER, -- - --- 52 
 
 DR. HENRY B. BASCOM,--- - 64 
 
 DR. EDWARD PAYSON, - --- - 73 
 
 DR. EDWARD DORR GRIFFIN, -- - 82 
 
 DR. ROBERT HALL, -- 90 
 
 DR. THOMAS CHALMERS, -- - 101 
 
 REV. HENRY MELVLLL, -- 112 
 
 REV. ROWLAND HILL, - ■*- 119 
 
 REV. LEGH RICHMOND, 127 
 
 DR. TIMOTHY DWIGHT, -- 139 
 
 REV. JONATHAN EDWARDS, 151 
 
 REV. GEORGE WHTTEFIELD, - --- 163 
 
 REV. RICHARD BAXTER, 173 
 
 REV. JOHN BUNYAN, -- - 183 
 
 REV. JAMES SAURIN, - - 195 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILON, 201 
 
 MARTIN LUTHER, 214 
 
 THE APOSTLE PAUL, 229 
 
'PUPUCL'3RAR > i 
 
 SKETCHES 
 
 OF 
 
 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 BR. JOHN M. MASON. 
 
 Taken altogether, no American preacher 
 has combined more impressive qualities. His 
 aspect was on a scale of grandeur correspond- 
 ing to the majesty of mind within. We always 
 feel a sort of pleasing approbation where the 
 symmetry of form and features tallies with 
 a dignified interior. It was emphatically so in 
 the case of Dr. Mason. Tall, robust, straight, 
 with a head modelled after neither Grecian 
 nor Roman standard, yet symmetrical, com- 
 bining the dignity of the one and the grace of 
 the other ; with an eye that shot fire, especially 
 when under the excitement of earnest preach- 
 ing, yet tender and tearful when the pathetic 
 chord was touched ; with a forehead broad and 
 high, running up each side, and slightly parted 
 
6 ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 in the middle by a graceful pendant of hair; a 
 mouth and chin expressive of firmness and de- 
 cision, Dr. Mason stood before you the prince 
 of pulpit orators. His voice, for compass and 
 flexibility, was scarcely exceeded, one would 
 think, by that of the renowned Demosthenes. 
 It would fill, without effort, the largest build- 
 ing. Its lower utterances were musical, pos- 
 sessing the qualities of a rich baritone. His 
 ordinary or conversational tone was so clear 
 and distinct, that every word reached the most 
 distant hearer; and when he rose under the 
 excitement of discourse to the loftier notes, 
 his voice rang through the building like the 
 clangor of a trumpet. 
 
 Over the whole man there was an air of 
 sacred heroism. He would have commanded 
 an army, and led them himself into the deadly 
 breach. He would have confronted the ma- 
 terial universe* in a good cause, and maintained 
 his position in face of the fiercest opposition. 
 Had he been a senator or barrister, how would 
 the thunders of his eloquence have awed every 
 hearer, and given him the palm of secular ora- 
 tory, as by universal consent he bore away that 
 of the pulpit. 
 
 Many were the advantages which this dis- 
 
DR. JOHN M. MASON. 7 
 
 tinguishecl minister enjoyed, all tending to 
 that perfection of mind and manner which 
 gave him so marked a priority among his con- 
 temporaries. The son of an eminent clergy- 
 man, he. was trained most assiduously by pa- 
 rental care and counsel. He was sent to com- 
 plete his studies to the highest schools of sacred 
 learning in Edinburgh. He had the talent and 
 the determination to make the most of these 
 advantages. His mind became liberalized, as 
 well as stored with varied learning; so that 
 when he began his career in New York, it was 
 not a slow growth, but an astounding perfec- 
 tion. It was like Minerva springing from the 
 . head of Jupiter, all armed for the contest. 
 
 He created a sensation at the very first, 
 and was chosen by acclamation to be the suc- 
 cessor of his father. The church being too 
 small to accommodate those who wished to 
 hear him, another of ampler dimensions was 
 erecte'd. What crowds hung upon his lips, as 
 meanwhile by courtesy he occupied the Cedar- 
 street Presbyterian church. When the Mur- 
 ray-street edifice was completed, the imperial 
 preacher took the pulpit, and dedicated the 
 house to God and to His truth. The pulpit or 
 rostrum was a novelty. It was a stage, with 
 
8 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 an elevated cushion in front; and it inaugu- 
 rated a new style, since generally copied. The 
 old tub pulpit would never have clone for Dr. 
 Mason. Thanks to him that for the most part 
 it is now numbered with the things that were. 1 
 It is said that the doctor, upon being rallied 
 on preaching from a stage, replied, "Why 
 should the devil have all the best advantages 
 for public speaking ?" 
 
 But he made a mistake in the location of his 
 stage pulpit, which proved detrimental to his 
 new enterprise. He placed it between the 
 doors. Hence everybody who entered was 
 exposed to the gaze of the whole congregation. 
 This was more than a modest man could en- 
 dure, to say nothing of the more sensitive sex. 
 It brought also all the nearest and most eligi- 
 ble seats into requisition first, and who could 
 thread his way up under a thousand eyes to 
 the back tier? The rear pews, even under 
 the attraction of Dr. Mason's oratory,- were 
 scarcely ever all filled. By this arrangement 
 also he was exposed to the noise of those com- 
 ing in late, slamming the doors, and striding 
 up the aisles with heavy tread. This would 
 sometimes occur after the service had com- 
 menced, and occasionally even during the in- 
 
KEV. JOHN M. MASON. 9 
 
 troduction of the sermon. The doctor was 
 greatly annoyed by these interruptions. We 
 remember a terrible rebuke administered by 
 him to a pert young dandy, who had more brass 
 on his heels than sense in his head. This self- 
 complacent young man threw open the door 
 with an air, and then strutted along directly in 
 front of the pulpit, taking the direction of the 
 middle aisle. The preacher was just in his 
 introduction. He paused. He fixed his keen 
 eye on the obtruder, the congregation mean- 
 while silent as death, and pitying the victim, 
 whose brass heels were the only sound heard 
 as he sought refuge in the distant pew. Turn- 
 ing, he faced the preacher, when, with a pecul- 
 iar expression, the doctor made him a low bow, 
 and proceeded with his discourse. If he had 
 shot an arrow at the youngster, he could not 
 have made him feel worse. At the close of 
 the exercises he requested the audience to be 
 seated. They knew something was coming. 
 He began upon the brazen heels, more becom- 
 ing horses or asses than men, and the impu- 
 dent interruptions which they caused. He 
 told them they must not come with their 
 horse-shoe appendages, clattering up the aisles 
 on the naked floor ; adding in a low but em- 
 
 l* 
 
10 ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 phatic tone, "More shame that they are naked." 
 Carpeted aisles had not then come into fash- 
 ion. Perhaps the doctor's gentle hint has- 
 tened their introduction. Poor young man ! 
 he was made the text of a terrible peroration. 
 We thought he would not soon forget the 
 application. 
 
 The mistake of pulpit between the doors 
 was however made, and some churches were 
 inconsiderate enough to follow the fashion ; but 
 all had ultimately to remodel. If the devil 
 was spited by the adoption of the stage pulpit, 
 he took his revenge in putting it where it could 
 do the least harm to his kingdom. 
 
 Dr. Mason was great in familiar exposition. 
 He devoted half the Sabbath service to this 
 method. He expounded the Scriptures as no 
 man of that day could. He was learned, de- 
 vout, intensely earnest, with mingled touches 
 of pathos and caustic satire that kept the mind 
 on a stretch, and made one feel that of all the 
 books in the world there was none that ap- 
 proached the Bible, in its knowledge of men as 
 well as of God. His congregation was a great 
 Bible-class; and he, their teacher, led them 
 through the green fields of spiritual pasturage, 
 cropping at every step the nutritious herbage. 
 
REV, JOHN M.MASON. 11 
 
 This method gave opportunity for the full play 
 of his great faculties. Reason, imagination, 
 wit, satire, all were by turns brought into requi- 
 sition. It was a feast to listen to him. Ever 
 and anon, as the occasion offered, he would 
 rise to heights of eloquence almost celestial. 
 His great command of language, his intense 
 emotion, his easy, extemporaneous utterance, 
 made it as delightful as it was instructive to 
 listen to these sacred homilies. 
 
 He was great also as an occasional preacher. 
 Charity sermons were his delight. His big soul 
 revelled in the pleas and arguments for a god- 
 like benevolence. Woe to the miser who hap- 
 pened in on such occasions. Woe to the self- 
 ish heart that loved to decorate and gratify 
 only itself and its own home circle, while it 
 had no bestowments for the less endowed. His 
 scathing rebukes left no secret apologies unex- 
 plored ; and men were forced in self-defence to 
 do violence to their selfish nature, and give 
 where they would have gladly withheld. 
 
 When this pulpit orator succumbed to the 
 attacks of disease, brought on by labors too 1 
 abundant, it was like the forest oak struck by 
 a thunderbolt. The outward majesty was still 
 visible ; but the vital principle had received a 
 
12 ELOQUENT PBEACHEBS. 
 
 shock under which the leafy glories were man- 
 ifestly withering and dying. The glory of man, 
 what is it? "The wind passeth over it, and it 
 is gone. Thou makest our beauty to consume 
 away as a moth. Surely every man is vanity." 
 But this good man was not afraid of evil tidings. 
 His life had been one continued application 
 for the conservation of truth and the upbuild- 
 ing of Zion. He lived long, judging from the 
 good accomplished ; and never was the saluta- 
 tion, "Well done, good and faithful servant," 
 more appropriate. 
 
 Dr. Mason was not faultless. He himself 
 would have been the last man to set up such a 
 claim. A deeper penitence, a more self-abas- 
 ing confession, never was heard than that which 
 flowed from his lips in prayer. Conscious of 
 his sins and infirmities, he was far more ready 
 to upbraid himself than any of his personal en- 
 emies could have been to condemn him. His 
 lofty pride of character; his deep loathing of 
 every thing like hypocrisy or sycophancy ; his 
 love of country, so intense as to scorn and 
 denounce the mere partisan politician and dem- 
 agogue, led some to call in question his piety. 
 But they were ignorant of what true piety is. 
 They made no allowances for constitutional dif- 
 
BEV. JOHN M. MASON. 13 
 
 ferences or for human infirmity. ' ' They spake 
 evil of those things which they knew not." All 
 who know what true piety is, who see its de- 
 velopment through varying natural character- 
 istics, are prepared to estimate Dr. Mason's 
 religion as they would the man's after God's 
 own heart, or any other good man's — carrying 
 their investigation through a life not spotless, 
 not perfect, yet aiming at it; and so judging, 
 by the rule of gospel charity they cannot deny 
 to Dr. Mason the claim of a noble Christian 
 man, as well as a sublime pulpit orator. 
 
H ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 DR. ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER. 
 
 My first sight of Dr. Alexander was in 
 1822, at Princeton. Carrying the usual rec- 
 ommendations for entering the seminary, he 
 received me more in the style of a father than 
 a professor. His smile of welcome I shall nev- 
 er forget. His countenance attracted rather 
 than awed me. I saw goodness rather than 
 greatness — the artlessness of childhood pro- 
 jected into the gravity of years, and a benev- 
 olence that won upon me at first sight. Sub- 
 sequent intercourse more than justified these 
 first favorable impressions. 
 
 His personal appearance was neither ma- 
 jestic nor striking. He would have passed 
 perhaps, in a crowd, unnoticed. Below the 
 medium height, of slim proportions, he owed 
 his distinction almost entirely to his mental 
 calibre and high moral qualities. Yet in that 
 countenance dwelt the unmistakable signs of 
 genius and the reflected gleams of a soul in 
 habitual converse with heaven. His forehead 
 was ample, running high over the temples, 
 
DE. ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER. 15 
 
 marked with lines of thought ; and when the 
 dark iron-gray hair was combed aside, allow- 
 ing the full expanse to be seen, there was some- 
 thing in it that riveted one's attention. But 
 the speaking features were the eye and the 
 mouth. The former was small, dark, and very 
 bright, almost piercing at times. It was sus- 
 ceptible of varied expression. It gave the in- 
 ward emotions with telegraphic accuracy and 
 quickness. All have heard of laughing eyes. 
 Dr. Alexander's had that peculiarity. When 
 excited to joy and merriment, his very eyes 
 seemed to laugh. His mouth too was full of 
 playful expression at times, which, though 
 checked by motives of expediency, revealed 
 nevertheless a fountain within of unbounded 
 humor. A more artless and expressive medi- 
 um of sincere and varied emotions no face ever 
 presented. We used to sit and study it until, 
 sometimes, it seemed to wear a glory such as 
 the great masters give to their pictorial saints. 
 He was at this time between fifty and sixty 
 years old, but had lost none of his power ; in 
 fact, he was just then at the very height of his 
 influence. When a young preacher he must 
 have been, as indeed we know he was, un- 
 boundedly popular. His delicate yet well- 
 
16 ELOQUENT PEEACHEBS. 
 
 proportioned frame, his symmetrical and 
 speaking features, with his ardent tempera- 
 ment and brilliant rush of thought, must have 
 chained his audience, and sent a thrill of de- 
 light through their bosoms. In a journey which 
 he took when a young man, with Rev. Dr. 
 Kollock, through the New England states, it is 
 said that, although Dr. Kollock was a Cory- 
 phaeus among pulpit orators, yet that audiences 
 hung upon the lips of the youthful Alexander, 
 if not with as much astonishment, yet with 
 more and deeper feeling. This power it would 
 seem had not diminished with the lapse of time. 
 Without losing the ardor of youth, he now car- 
 ried into the pulpit the experience of years 
 and the resources of learning. 
 
 But before we proceed to characterize his 
 preaching, let us take a look at him in the lec- 
 ture-room. Here he was at home ; and here 
 the students came into direct contact with his 
 spirit and his intellect. He was not always 
 alike interesting ; nor did he always succeed 
 in keeping alive the attention of his pupils. 
 He seemed never to try — never to work against 
 his own present frame of feeling. He let na- 
 ture have her own way. If he was nervous 
 and low-spirited, he knew it and felt it. He 
 
DR. ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER. 17 
 
 came in with the nightmare upon him ; he 
 looked gloomy; he spoke as one struggling 
 with some unseen spectre, and went through 
 his task as well as he could. We sympathized 
 with him; we too felt the gloom. But again 
 he would enter with eyes sparkling, and as- 
 cend the platform with a spring. His face was 
 radiant ; the spectre had been exorcised ; he 
 was now all sunshine ; he dealt out the stores 
 of wisdom, and sprinkled them with the dia- 
 mond-dust of beautiful fancies. He would 
 illustrate with anecdotes, and play about his 
 subject with all the force of a fond affection. 
 The lecture-room was luminous at such times. 
 Interrupt him ! no matter ; he was not dis- 
 pleased; he would take a new excursion in 
 reply. Dr. Alexander was great at such times : 
 and great was the pleasure we experienced. 
 "Hose olim meminisse juvabit. 77 
 
 His forte lay in a clear statement of truth, 
 with a just appreciation of its possible limits. 
 His philosophy never carried him beyond these 
 limits. Here he would pause, and take refuge 
 in the simple verities of G-od's word. As a 
 reader of the Scriptures, and especially as an 
 expounder, he was uncommonly forcible. He 
 would usually turn to one of the Psalms of Da- 
 
18 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 vid. With his finger on his temple, resting 
 his head on his hand and elbow, he would 
 slowly enunciate the sentences, seeming to be 
 himself studying into their meaning. A new 
 thought would strike him. As he caught it, 
 how his eye would sparkle ! That thought was 
 ours. It was as if a man had suddenly, in 
 digging, turned up a nugget of gold. His soul 
 seemed fairly to revel in these inspired lyrics. 
 David's harp never sounded sweeter than when 
 its chords vibrated through the expressed emo- 
 tions of our venerated teacher. His prayers 
 too — how simple ; how direct ; as if he saw 
 Grod ! How touching, sometimes, were they, 
 when the plaintive feelings of his burdened 
 heart sought an outlet at the mercy-seat. 
 
 Stepping with him from the more familiar 
 professorial chair to the more formal and ele- 
 vated pulpit, let us contemplate him as the 
 preacher of righteousness. If you looked for 
 great sermons, in the common acceptation of 
 the term, you would be disappointed. No 
 wreaths of flowery eloquence were woven by 
 him. No prismatic .hues danced on the walls 
 of the sanctuary, when he held up the mirror 
 of divine truth. It was the rays of pure white 
 light converging to a focus. He carried into 
 
DE. AECHIBALD ALEXANDEB. 19 
 
 the pulpit apparently a most oppressive sense 
 of his responsibility. The man was lost and 
 swallowed up in the preacher. Dr. Alexan- 
 der's whole air and aspect in the pulpit was 
 such as became Clod's ambassador. His man- 
 ner was characterized by a charming simplic- 
 ity. It was all nature. It seemed to say, I 
 shall preach to you just as I feel. I am an in- 
 strument in God's hands. If he touch the 
 chords, they will make music; if not, all will 
 be discordant or lifeless. 
 
 He seldom read his sermons. We have 
 known him to do so ; but he seemed to strug- 
 gle through like David with Saul's armor upon 
 him. Usually, almost invariably, he spoke 
 from short notes, flinging himself on the stream 
 of thought with channels dug beforehand. His 
 sermons were discursive, but not rambling. 
 They had method, without being very method- 
 ical. His text was a thread of gold running 
 through the whole fabric of his discourse. He 
 was not wont to take a text as a mere motto, 
 and then give us a brilliant essay or a pro- 
 found disquisition. The sermon grew out of 
 the text, just as the flower springs from the 
 seed, or fruit from the bud and blossom. He 
 expounded the passage ; told us in beautifully 
 
20 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 simple terms its meaning. This was opening 
 the gates which led into the green pastures ; 
 and ere long we were following him through 
 almost celestial landscapes. "When the fit 
 was on him" — that is, when the nerves were 
 in healthful play, and the soul had seen un- 
 usual sights of glorious things — then did we sit 
 entranced under the utterances of this almost 
 inspired preacher. We knew in a moment 
 when this was the case. A certain halo seem- 
 ed to settle around his head and radiate from 
 his features. He spoke at first slowly, seem- 
 ing to meditate on what he was saying ; and 
 then another striking thought, and again a 
 pause. Then thought after thought came more 
 rapidly, in words fit and impressive — words 
 that in their simplicity and strength seemed to 
 press the native Saxon to its utmost power. 
 Now the glow was upon him. The spectacles 
 were raised or snatched away, and that eye ot 
 intense brilliancy shot forth its fires ; while the 
 voice, at first so small, was waxing, like the 
 Sinaitic trumpet, louder and louder, and pene- 
 trating through a phalanx of trembling hearts. 
 How beautifully soft were his cadences, as he 
 dropped on some sweet spot of Christian expe- 
 rience, where joy and sorrow blended, or where 
 
DR. ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER. 21 
 
 the pilgrim was wending his way through the 
 valley of tears. How it broke into peals of 
 triumph as he followed that same pilgrim up 
 to the pearly gates, and saw him enter amid 
 the salutations of angels ! 
 
 Dr. Alexander, more than any other man 
 we ever heard, delighted in experimental preach- 
 ing. He himself had gone over the weary way, 
 explored its perils and pitfalls, and he knew 
 how sore were the trials of the journey. He 
 knew all the phases of Christian experience, 
 and he not only allured us to higher worlds, 
 but gloriously led the way. He would startle 
 you at times by putting his exploring finger 
 on the diseased parts of your soul, of the ex- 
 istence of which you were before scarcely con- 
 scious. How he loved to bring the heavenly 
 balm to those sore spots, and like a gentle 
 nurse soothe the moral patient, and show him 
 how surely the good Physician would effect a 
 cure. We remember hearing him once in 
 Philadelphia on the temptations and trials of 
 the Christian; and from the beginning to the 
 end of the discourse we could not restrain our 
 tears. As he felt himself, so he preached. If 
 he was in a plaintive mood — a not unusual one 
 for him — a sweet sadness, like one walking in 
 
22 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 the twilight, would attend his words. If he 
 was on the mount, thither he bore his audience 
 in a sustained and glorious flight. A man of 
 strong impulses, of deep feeling, his preaching- 
 was marked by inequalities such as usually 
 attend men of this cast of character. We have 
 known him fail. He himself knew it; and 
 after a few struggles would close the services 
 prematurely, as if to say to his audience, It is 
 of no use for me to detain you here when I am 
 not in a frame to interest and edify you. But 
 these were exceptions. The usual style was 
 one of great power and pathos ; and then the 
 fear seemed to be that he was corning too soon 
 to a close. Great was the privilege to sit at 
 the feet of such a man and such a preacher. 
 
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BEV. JOHN SUMMEKFIELD. 23 
 
 REV. JOHN SUMMERFIELD. 
 
 Summerfield was in connection with the 
 Methodist church, and began his career as a 
 preacher in England and Ireland. He was 
 very young to commence preaching, but his 
 eminent piety and fine oratory justified it. 
 His training for the sacred calling was not as 
 thorough as it should have been ; though sub- 
 sequently, by diligent study, he supplied in 
 some measure the deficiency. From boyhood 
 he had a love for elocution, and was wont to 
 resort to the courts and other places of forensic 
 debate, and mark the peculiarities of the best 
 speakers. Nature had given him an exquisite 
 taste, which instinctively appropriated all the 
 fine passages which he read or heard, and fixed 
 them in his memory. He at length in a hum- 
 ble way began to try his own powers, and as- 
 tonished his hearers by the variety and force 
 of his eloquence. Ere long the circle of influ- 
 ence extended, and the youthful preacher be- 
 came the centre of admiring crowds. He was 
 especially popular in Ireland, where the church 
 
24 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 was thronged whenever it was known he was 
 to preach. 
 
 In person Summerfield was small — scarcely 
 of medium height, and yet every way well 
 proportioned. He had a finely shaped head ; 
 a forehead not high, but broad, and of the 
 purest white, over which usually lay aslant a 
 dark lock of hair. His eyes were peculiar- 
 large, and deep blue, curtained somewhat by 
 the upper lids, giving a pensive expression, 
 with a slight, almost imperceptible cast in one 
 of them, which rather augmented than dimin- 
 ished their expression. His mouth was the 
 perfection of shape, indicating the exquisite 
 taste and poetical tendencies which character- 
 ized him. Some perhaps would have called 
 him feminine in his aspect. And it must be 
 admitted that the whole contour and air were 
 so peaceful as to suggest the idea. He might 
 have been called feminine in the loveliness 
 and beauty of his exterior, but certainly he 
 was not effeminate. He had a masculine dig- 
 nity of character that shone through that fine 
 physical organism, commanding the respect 
 and admiration of all who knew him. 
 
 He came to this country with no anterior 
 fame. Few had heard of him, or of the im- 
 
EEV. JOHN SUMMERFIELD. 25 
 
 pression which he had made in England. He 
 was judged entirely upon his own merits. It 
 seems that his relatives had made prepara- 
 tions to emigrate to this country; and from 
 this circumstance, as well as for the sake of 
 recruiting his energies, which had been over- 
 tasked by too much preaching, young Sum- 
 merfield determined to visit America, and 
 make it also, if circumstances were favorable, 
 his adopted home. 
 
 It so happened that his arrival took place 
 in the spring, at the time when the May anni- 
 versaries occur ; and the rumor of his celebri- 
 ty getting abroad, he was invited to speak 
 before the American Bible Society. The 
 young stranger being introduced to the plat- 
 form, sat, a mere stripling in appearance, 
 among grey heads, learned doctors, and emi- 
 nent civilians. His rosy cheek, and almost 
 beardless chin and pensive eye attracted at- 
 tention, and many inquiries passed through 
 the audience concerning him. Who that young 
 and beautiful stranger was, everybody was de- 
 sirous of ascertaining. 
 
 The venerable Boudinot presided. He 
 came in late, wearing his black velvet cap, 
 and being assisted to the chair, proceeded at 
 
 Eloquent Preacheri. 2 
 
26 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 once to the business of the meeting. The 
 speeches were eloquent, and the audience was 
 sensibly moved. Still many an eye was fixed 
 on the young stranger, whose calm demeanor 
 would hardly have led one *to expect that he 
 was to be called up. But Summerfield was 
 never nervously excited ; he had great self- 
 possession. It was this that gave him power, 
 making his best efforts seem like the natural 
 flow of ordinary discourse. The time now 
 came for the President to announce the pres- 
 ence of a stranger from England, a member of 
 the Methodist church, just arrived, from whom 
 they would be glad to hear. With character- 
 istic modesty, but perfect self-possession, he 
 rose and commenced his speech. There was 
 the slightest possible lisp in his utterance, not 
 damaging — we rather thought aiding — the 
 effect ; while his voice was as clear and melo- 
 dious as the notes of a well-played flute. 
 
 He began by a reference to the President, 
 whose aspect and age reminded him of one of 
 the patriarchs ; and uttering a compliment, not 
 fulsome, but delicate, such as the character of 
 Boudinot justified, he passed on to the great 
 theme, and took the audience with him to the 
 celestial heights. It seemed as if some angel 
 
REV. JOHN SUMMERFIELD. 27 
 
 had been suddenly dropped in human form in 
 the midst of us. Yet he was flesh and blood, 
 having all the sympathies of our common na- 
 ture, which he brought into requisition as he 
 dilated now on the bright, and now on the 
 sombre aspects of the cause which he advocat- 
 ed. There was every variety in this speech. 
 It flowed sweet and gentle as the stream that 
 steals along the green sward, and then broke 
 into the torrent, whose dashing spray was illu- 
 minated by the prismatic hues of a brilliant 
 fancy. He drew his pictures from nature and 
 from the Bible, never coloring too deep, nor 
 dwelling too long, but keeping the panorama 
 in pleasing progress. It was a poetical speech, 
 yet it drew its inspiration from Siloa's fount. 
 It was music such as one would imagine flowed 
 from the vibrations of some angel harp. We 
 could have listened all day to those fine ca- 
 dences, and gazed on those beautiful images of 
 thought and feeling. When Summerfield sat 
 down, we took a long breath, and the congrat- 
 ulatory looks that succeeded were an ill omen 
 to any speaker who might follow. This speech 
 stamped the. reputation of young Summerfield 
 with the American churches. Everybody was 
 inquiring where he could next be heard. 
 
28 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 The Methodists of course took him to them- 
 selves at first. But the crowds that flocked 
 to Johu-street made it very inconvenient to 
 the regular worshippers in that church, as the}' 
 could scarcely find their way to their own 
 pews. Invitations from other denominations 
 began to flow in, and soon the young preacher 
 was found in Presbyterian and other churches, 
 always thronged almost to suffocation. 
 
 Some men can make a good speech who 
 cannot preach a gpod sermon; and the ques- 
 tion which naturally suggested itself, after his 
 splendid debut at the Bible Society, was, Will 
 he be equally impressive in the pulpit ? But 
 that doubt was speedily removed when Sum- 
 merfield exchanged the platform for the pulpit. 
 
 - 
 
 In fact the pulpit was his true position. No- 
 where else did his eloquence reach to so sub- 
 lime a height, He will be remembered by 
 the sermon, not the platform speech. Every 
 quality of mind and body, of soul and spirit, 
 fitted him for the pulpit. 
 
 His first sermon which the writer had the 
 pleasure of hearing was addressed to the young. 
 He delighted in preaching to children. He 
 inaugurated almost an entirely new style of 
 preaching to them, that of question and answer, 
 
EEV. JOHN SUMMERFIELD. 29 
 
 giving him scope and keeping up the attention 
 of his little auditors. He himself so youthful, 
 with a manner so winning and a smile so play- 
 ful, gave him the hearts of the children at 
 once. Then his simplicity of diction, his fine 
 imagination, drawing from the storehouse of 
 God's word its beautiful pictures, amplifying 
 them, and turning them in every light upon 
 their admiring eyes, made him the medium of 
 delight as well as of instruction. 
 
 Taking our chance with the crowd, we 
 were carried in by the surging mass, and found 
 a standing place in the gallery. Punctual, 
 Summerfield arrived, and ascending the pulpit, 
 he knelt a moment in prayer, and then cast an 
 interested look over his audience. He seemed 
 to be in a heavenly frame. He read the hymn 
 with those sweet intonations and that nice ap- 
 preciation of the sentiment which touches the 
 heart. But his prayer! Who can describe 
 the pathos, the simplicity, the unction, the 
 almost agonizing earnestness that melted every 
 soul into sympathy, and filled the house with 
 an awful sense of the divine presence? Sum- 
 merfield's prayers were worth as much as his 
 preaching. They seemed to carry us on the 
 wings of devotion to the third heaven, or to 
 
30 ELOQUENT FREACHERS. 
 
 melt us in penitential sorrow at the foot of the 
 cross. 
 
 The text was, "They that seek me early 
 shall find me." He made them promise to 
 look it up and think upon it when they should 
 return to their homes. He repeated it with 
 new and beautiful variations, turning it in this 
 light and that. He spoke of Solomon as a 
 youth, with a choice of earthly and spiritual 
 good set before him. He nobly chose the lat- 
 ter; and then God added to him the former. 
 Now said he, leaning over the desk, and in 
 the most winning manner, "Now tell me what 
 text in the New Testament corresponds with 
 this decision." None could give it. "Have 
 you forgotten that our Lord said, 'Seek ye 
 first the kingdom of Grod, and all these things 
 shall be added unto you?'" His quotations 
 were always pertinent, and gave great power 
 to his discourse. 
 
 On a certain Sabbath he preached in a 
 small church in the eastern part of the city. 
 Even here the crowd followed him. His* text 
 was, " He that goeth forth and weepeth," etc. ; 
 from which he said he should consider the 
 weeping and the rejoicing seasons of the Chris- 
 tian. This opened a fine field for his sympa- 
 
REV. JOHN SUMMERFIELD. 31 
 
 thetic soul. As with a master's hand he 
 sketched the weeping seasons, the whole place 
 became speedily a Bochim. But erelong the 
 gleams of brightness began to be flung around 
 the Christian's pathway. The tears were dried 
 and a heavenly serenity succeeded. He took 
 us to the mount, gave us the undimmed eye of 
 Moses, and pictured to us the outspread glories 
 of Paradise. 
 
 Many will remember the sermon in behalf 
 of the orphans. We obtained a seat in the 
 recess of a window in the gallery. The or- 
 phans were seated on a temporary stage direct- 
 ly in front of the pulpit, The discourse was 
 highly appropriate, and bore his audience along 
 on a stream of flowing and sometimes impas- 
 sioned eloquence. Towards the close, and 
 when the excitement was intense, the speaker 
 dropping his handkerchief as a signal, the or- 
 phans rose and stood silent before the audience. 
 Pointing to them, ''Look," said he in his own 
 inimitable manner; "let their silence plead." 
 There was scarce an eye in that vast assembly 
 unmoistened. The collection was the largest 
 that had ever been taken. 
 
 But wherein lay Summerfield's power ? It 
 lay principally in his deep unaffected piety. 
 
32 ELOQUENT PREACHEKS. 
 
 He seemed to belong more to heaven than to 
 earth. He was as one apart from the crowd. 
 Under that calm, meek, beautiful exterior there 
 was an almost angelic spirit. He lived and 
 moved in an atmosphere of love. How often 
 have we heard him exclaim, 
 
 "If all the world my Jesus knew, 
 Then all the world would love him too." 
 
 This heavenly spirit was poured out upon his 
 audience in language chaste and beautiful — in 
 a fervor that warmed and touched the hearts 
 of his hearers. 
 
 But this seraphic man ran his race speed- 
 ily, and as one has said, like the torch-bearer 
 in the Grecian games, reaching the terminus 
 with it still blazing. His delicate framework 
 could not bear the pressure of incessant pul- 
 pit labor; and the disease which had been 
 latent for years, suddenly ripened into fatal 
 strength. He died in New York, where he 
 had labored most and was best appreciated, at 
 the age of twenty-eight; and thousands, the 
 writer included, went and dropped their tears 
 upon his early grave. 
 
SYLVESTEE LAENED. 33 
 
 SYLVESTER LARNED. 
 
 In person, Earned was a model man. Not 
 tall, but strong built, with an easy, graceful 
 carriage, and a head that the far-famed Apollo 
 might have envied. His dark waving hair 
 was thrown carelessly back from a forehead 
 broad and excessive, while his large grey eye 
 was bright even in repose. His nose was of 
 the Roman cast, and his mouth and chin were 
 expressive of the finest emotions. If Mercury, 
 the imagined god of eloquence, had gone in 
 search of a fine medium to sound forth in rap- 
 turous tones the thoughts and emotions of th,e 
 human soul, he would have seized with delight 
 such an instrument as this. His very look, 
 before he uttered a sentence, was eloquent. 
 
 The first time the writer saw Larned was 
 when he presented himself before the Presby- 
 tery of New York to be examined for licen- 
 sure. Another young man was examined at 
 the same time. This candidate was as poorly 
 as Larned was well prepared. Hence the lat- 
 ter seemed even better, and the former worse, 
 than if this contrast had not existed. But Lar- 
 
 2* 
 
 ; 
 
34 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 ned gave his answers with great self-posses- 
 sion, in language exact, clear, and critically 
 nice, proving himself at home on all the con- 
 tested points; so that when the question of 
 licensure came up, there was but one feeling, that 
 of unqualified approbation. Some of the min- 
 isters dissented from certain opinions express- 
 ed by the candidate, but allowed not this differ- 
 ence to hinder their cordial votes for his licen- 
 sure. He stood up and recwed from his 
 seniors, in a calm and serious manner, author- 
 ity to preach the gospel. 
 
 The youthful and accomplished orator made 
 his debut in the city of New York. The audi- 
 ence, who knew not the stranger, saw passing 
 up the aisle a youth of manly proportions and 
 striking countenance, and were at once pre- 
 possessed in his favor. He rises in the pulpit, 
 and all is hush. The invocation is uttered in 
 a low, distinct, solemn manner. Every word 
 is appropriate, and the very tones, so subdued 
 and devotional, fall grateful on the ear. He 
 reads the hymn, a familiar one ; yet somehow 
 the audience have discovered new beauties in 
 that hymn. Some nice shades of thought had 
 escaped them until now. They had never 
 heard it so read. What was the magic ? It 
 
SYLVESTEE LAKNED. 35 
 
 was not simply the deep melody of that voice, 
 but an undefinable apprehension of the latent 
 meaning, a soul sympathy in the very senti- 
 ment of the hymn, which told at once on their 
 Christian sensibilities. He had gained his au- 
 dience. A death-like stillness thenceforward 
 prevailed. He read the Scriptures as he read 
 the hymn, with a certain freshness of feeling 
 that seemed to set the great truths in new and 
 unobserved lights. His reading was a com- 
 mentary. People glanced at each other to 
 see if all had experienced the same agreeable 
 surprise ; and all had. Every eye turned 
 fixedly on that pulpit. They adjusted them- 
 selves anew in their seats, and so made prep- 
 aration for an enjoyment which they knew was 
 at hand. Nor were they disappointed. He 
 named his text from Acts: "And as he rea- 
 soned of righteousness, temperance, and judg- 
 ment to come, Felix trembled, and answered, 
 Gro thy way for this time ; when I have a con- 
 venient season I will call for thee." His first 
 sentence struck a key-note in the souls of his 
 listening audience, so that every heart felt it,' 
 and felt it alike. There was no sleeping in 
 that audience. The most stupid and indiffer- 
 ent roused up and bent forward to catch the 
 
36 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 utterances of the youthful orator. As he pro- 
 ceeded the feeling deepened, and became at 
 length almost painfully exciting. He used no 
 notes. For Lamed to have bent over a man- 
 uscript would have embarrassed his free, en- 
 ergetic movements as much as for a racehorse 
 to be encased in harness. 
 
 He pictured in this discourse the unright- 
 eous Felix, the intemperate or sensual Felix, 
 and Felix standing with all his accumulated 
 guilt upon him at the judgment bar. He then 
 turned the picture so as to reflect it into the 
 bosoms of his hearers. If Felix trembled under 
 Paul, we trembled under Larned. If Felix 
 begged Paul to stop, some of us, I fear, would 
 almost have arrested the orator as he tore his 
 way into the secret heart, and by strokes of 
 terrible rebuke made us feel that we were lit- 
 tle less guilty than the notorious Roman. 
 Whether any were converted under the ser- 
 mon, we know not; sure we are that many 
 were convicted. Possibly, like the great pro- 
 totype of procrastination, we may have said 
 secretly, "G-o thy way for this time; when I 
 have a convenient season I will call for thee." 
 The eloquent preacher closed, as was his wont, 
 by some startling question, which rang like 
 
SYLVESTEE LAENED. 37 
 
 the archangel's trump through the audience. 
 We held our breath, and actually felt a relief 
 when the echo died away in the silent corridor 
 of the building. At the close of the service, 
 as might have been expected, every one was 
 anxious to know who the stranger was and 
 where he was to preach in the afternoon. 
 
 It was ascertained that he would occupy 
 the pulpit of the Garden-street church. Thith- 
 er of course the crowd flocked, for it is incred- 
 ible how such news will fly ; and long ere the 
 service commenced the pews .and aisles were 
 densely packed. His subject on this occasion 
 was repentance ; text, "Repent ye, and believe 
 the gospel." He dwelt on its nature and obli- 
 gations. As in the morning, so now every 
 thing was in keeping; the manner dignified, 
 earnest, solemn: the voice full, deep, melodi- 
 ous; the look majestic, heavenly. The whole 
 soul beamed from every feature of that speak- 
 ing face. How quick was the electric influ- 
 ence felt between the pulpit and the pew! 
 Every heart was in the speaker's hand. How 
 sublime are the triumphs of true eloquence ! 
 
 In the course of this sermon he had occa- 
 sion to refer, as a motive to repentance, to the 
 sufferings and death of Christ. The writer can 
 
38 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 never forget the scene. He was a mere youth 
 at the time ; but his heart had been touched 
 by the love of the Saviour, and he knew how 
 to appreciate a picture such as the preacher 
 drew. The audience had been carried along 
 on the torrent of eloquence, which at length 
 flowed in the direction of Calvary. The preach- 
 er, as he led them towards that sacramental 
 spot, began to dilate in tones pathetic on the 
 awful guilt which necessitated such sufferings 
 on the part of the Son of God. His own voice 
 trembled, his eye grew moist, his utteranpe 
 choked; but he kept on amid the tears and 
 sighs of his audience. Still he kept on; and 
 turning to the wall behind him, he drew on it 
 an imaginary cross, with its nails and its crown 
 of thorns, and its pale, uplifted victim. It 
 started out on the cold blank as if we saw the 
 actual scene, and scarce an eye in that assem- 
 bly but wept in sympathy, if not in penitence. 
 We all know how difficult it is to describe 
 or picture forth such a scene, to do any justice 
 to it. It may be overdone, and so lose its im- 
 pressiveness ; or it may be done in cold detail, 
 and so cease to reach the fountains of feeling. 
 The painter cannot paint it, the poet cannot 
 put it into numbers, and the orator makes a 
 
SYLVESTEE LARNED. 39 
 
 daring attempt who presumes to sketch it be- 
 fore a listening audience. But Larned ven- 
 tured upon it. He knew his own power. He 
 had a proper appreciation of just how much 
 and how little should be said. He knew too 
 that he himself must enter with all his heart's 
 sensibility into the scene ; and he did. He 
 said not one word too much, nor dwelt one 
 moment too long. He took us where he himself 
 went, to the very foot of the cross. He made 
 us feel as if we stood in sight of it — within 
 hearing of the sad death utterances. Raising 
 his great tearful eyes towards it, he asked us 
 how we could refuse to repent. The effect 
 was overwhelming. It was a bold attempt for 
 any preacher, especially for one so young. 
 But it was no failure, as every one who recol- 
 lects the occasion will bear me witness. 
 
 The triumph of sacred eloquence was nev- 
 er more marked, iffany of our most worthy 
 and influential citizens were present, and gave 
 unmistakable proofs, in their fixed attention 
 and uncontrollable emotions, of the power 
 which the young preacher wielded. Near me 
 stood — for he could not obtain a sitting — the 
 late George Griffin, then among the most brill- 
 iant advocates of the New York bar. The tall 
 
40 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 figure, with grey hair and green goggles, scarce 
 altering his posture during the whole of the 
 discourse, rapt in mute attention, showed now 
 and then by the quivering of the facial mus- 
 cles, how the orator was exploring the depths 
 of feeling within. Casting a glance at this dis- 
 tinguished lawyer, and observimHiis emotions, 
 methought that with a theme such as the min- 
 ister of the gospel possesses, and a heart alive 
 to its magnitude, and oratorical powers of the 
 highest order, there could not be a more sub- 
 lime scene than the one here presented. 
 
 In conversation subsequently with John 
 -Quincy Adams, the subject of Larned's elo- 
 quence coming up, he remarked that he had 
 never heard his equal in the pulpit. 
 
 Wherever Larned went, the same rush to 
 hear him and enthusiastic admiration prevail- 
 ed. He was solicited to take the first stations 
 with the largest salaried But he refused all 
 these tempting offers. He had set his heart 
 on a great self-denying enterprise. Looking 
 over the wide extent of the land, he thought 
 he heard the Macedonian cry from a city where 
 mammon and pleasure reigned. Bent only on 
 duty, and regarding not the peril, he threw 
 himself with his characteristic energy into this 
 
SYLVESTEE LAKNED. 41 
 
 new field. New Orleans was destitute in a 
 great measure of evangelical influence. This 
 determined Larned to make it the field of his 
 future labors. The decision gave great satis- 
 faction to the pious, who rallied around him ; 
 and by their efforts a beautiful church edifice 
 was soon reared, and filled with a respectable 
 congregation. But alas, "the arrow that flieth 
 by day" had been prepared; and on the sec- 
 ond summer of his residence there, determin- 
 ing to confront the dangerous fever for the sake 
 of his flock, that arrow reached his vitals, and 
 he fell a victim to his self-sacrificing and heroic 
 devotion. The news sped through the land, 
 and all Christian hearts gave him the tribute 
 of a sincere lamentation. 
 
 If asked in what Larned 's power consisted 
 as a pulpit orator, we should answer, in a 
 combination of qualities. His person, so beau- 
 tiful and dignified ; his voice, so full of melody, 
 adapting itself with the nicest inflections to the 
 sentiment; his just appreciation of the subject; 
 his soul of high and generous mould, commun- 
 ing habitually with great themes ; his Christian 
 enthusiasm, enveloping the whole man with a 
 glowing atmosphere : all these qualities com- 
 bined to make Larned the peerless pulpit orator. 
 
42 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 DR. ASAHEL NETTLETON. 
 
 Some may express surprise at seeing the 
 name of Nettleton on the list of eloquent 
 preachers. He is remembered as a successful 
 revivalist, as having published the ■" Village 
 Hymns," and as occupying late in life a com- 
 paratively obscure position in a Theological 
 seminary. What claim then has he to the dis- 
 tinction of a pulpit orator ? We will explain. 
 We do not place his claim on the same grounds 
 as that of Mason, Alexander, or Griffin. He 
 possessed neither their learning nor their gen- 
 ius ; but he had no superior in his day in self- 
 sacrificing zeal. No preacher better under- 
 stood the human heart ; none had greater pen- 
 etration into the phases of that " deceitfulness 
 of sin " which beguiles the human understand- 
 ing and corrupts the motives. If he had stud- 
 ied the didactics of religion less than some 
 others, he had clear apprehensions of religion 
 itself. If the graces of oratory were not con- 
 spicuous in his preaching, that which is said to 
 be the aim or end of eloquence, namely, con- 
 viction and persuasion, was never more signally 
 
DE. ASAHEL NETTLETON. 43 
 
 t 
 
 illustrated. The writer knew him well, and 
 was 'oft refreshed under his ministry in the 
 great revivals of 1820-21, while a student in 
 Yale college. The whole city was overshad- 
 owed with the cloud of mercy, and the reno- 
 vating influences kept falling, more or less, for 
 the space, of two years. 
 
 Originally Dr. Nettleton's intention was to 
 embark on some foreign mission; but by the 
 force of circumstances this intention was de- 
 feated, and he found himself in the work of 
 home evangelization, to which thenceforward 
 his life and labors were consecrated. He put 
 himself on the current of events, and was borne 
 along as by a divine impulse. He went no- 
 where without having, as he supposed, a call 
 of Providence. He left when the same myste- 
 rious index finger pointed him away. From 
 every quarter invitations flowed in upon him ; 
 but only those were responded to which 
 seemed to him to contain in them the voice of 
 G-od. If the cry, "Come over and help us" 
 came from a church which was paralyzed by 
 inaction or corrupted by worldliness, he gave 
 it usually no heed. The supposition was that 
 they were looking less to the Almighty than 
 to an arm of flesh. Nothing grieved him more 
 
44 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 than the idea, implied or expressed, that he 
 could breathe life into dry bones. He regard- 
 ed it both as an insult to heaven and to his 
 own understanding. He ! Why, there was 
 never a more consciously impotent human in- 
 strument. Never was there a preacher more 
 oluivious of self, nor one that entered more 
 into the spirit of the sentiment, " Our suffi- 
 ciency is of God." On one occasion, having 
 arrived in a town with a view to labor for the 
 upbuilding of Zion, he overheard certain prom- 
 inent members of the church saying in an ex- 
 ultant strain, "Mr. Nettleton has come, and 
 we shall have a revival of religion. 77 The words 
 pierced him to the heart. He went to his closet 
 and wept. He ordered his horse at once, say- 
 ing as he took leave, "I can 7 t stay here any 
 longer. The people are in a wrong state of 
 mind. 7 ' His absence created inquiry^ Chris- 
 tians began to study into the matter. They 
 saw their error in looking to man instead of 
 God. They repented and put their faces in 
 the dust ; and soon the indications of the Spir- 
 it's presence were manifest. Hearing of this" 
 Mr. Nettleton returned and preached to them 
 with great zeal and success. 
 
 There was at first view nothing in his ap- 
 
DE. ASAHEL NETTLETON. 45 
 
 pearance that was striking or calculated to 
 arrest the attention. Of medium height, with 
 a somewhat haggard look, large blue eyes, 
 prominent Roman nose, high oval forehead, 
 with light and slightly grey hair brought up 
 from each side to cover its baldness, and an air 
 of abstraction, as if conversing either with his 
 own thoughts or with the great Invisible, he 
 seemed always bent on some object, near or 
 remote, connected with the salvation of men. 
 His whole energies appeared to be working in 
 this direction. His prayers all breathed of 
 this. If he was seen conversing with an indi- 
 vidual, you might be sure that he was trying 
 to get into the sympathies of that heart, so as 
 to reach it with the truth of G-od. This he 
 did, not by direct and blunt assailment, but 
 gradually and gently, as the sunbeam steals 
 into the crevice. His knowledge of men went 
 deeper than any minister's I have known ; and 
 it was the more marvellous, as he was never 
 known to have mingled much in promiscuous 
 society. There was a sweet and attractive 
 gentleness in his manners. He seemed to 
 have conquered all the proud, sensual, or irri- 
 table feelings. An air of vestal purity sur- 
 rounded him. You felt as if in presence of 
 
46 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 not only an amiable, but a holy man. These 
 traits, by disarming prejudice, made his minis- 
 try potent for good. In many respects he re- 
 sembled the apostle Paul. The self-denial, the 
 absolute self-renunciation, the absorption of his 
 whole soul in his work, the heavenly mindecl- 
 ness, the simplicity and singleness of his aim, 
 all reminded one of that apostle. What was 
 said of Paul by the Corinthians, that his pres- 
 ence was weak and his speech contemptible, 
 might in some degree be applied, especially by 
 those who judge of eloquence by shining qual- 
 ities, to Mr. Nettleton. He lacked the grandeur 
 of person and of intellect which some of the 
 great pulpit orators have possessed. His voice 
 was sharp rather than full or melodious, and 
 his gestures, though emphatic, were ordinarily 
 not graceful. His power as a preacher lay in 
 intense earnestness. His whole being was 
 concentrated in efforts to save the soul from 
 death. Out of the pulpit as well as in it, this 
 was evident. No man ever dreamed of attrib- 
 uting to him any selfish ends. It was manifest 
 that the highest motives only swayed him. To 
 this noble, disinterested spirit, more than to 
 any graces of oratory, did he owe his influence 
 and his success. 
 
DE. ASAHEL NETTLETON. 47 
 
 There was, however, at times an eloquence 
 that rose above all rhetorical rules, and though 
 it dazzled not the fancy, stormed and carried 
 the conscience and the heart. True, the Spirit 
 of God was present to evoke it and give it 
 power ; so that every word told with terrible 
 emphasis, and every sentence fell like the hail- 
 stones in Eevelation, each one weighing a tal- 
 ent, causing men to cry out in audible accents, 
 What shall we do? Still, none who listened 
 on such occasions could deny that for clear- 
 ness, force, and pungency, his sermons were 
 unequalled. It was the highest style of pulpit 
 eloquence, for it carried souls on its pure, 
 impetuous current into the divinely appointed 
 ark of safety. There was in it a spiritual ele- 
 vation, as if G-od himself was speaking — as if 
 the lips were all aglow with a coal from heav- 
 en's altar. 
 
 The preaching of this distinguished evange- 
 list, to be appreciated, had to be heard contin- 
 uously, and under circumstances of more than 
 ordinary interest. His first efforts were mod- 
 est, his manner calm but clear, and his aim 
 was rather to awaken interest than to excite 
 the passions. Usually he began with the 
 church, hoping to bring them to a higher tone 
 
48 ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 of consecration. If successful in this, he turned 
 his thoughts upon the careless and the impen- 
 itent, believing that a very intimate relation 
 subsisted between a revival in the church and 
 a resurrection of the dead in sin. His preach- 
 ing had a strict adaptation to these varying 
 circumstances. It rose as the current of feel- 
 ing rose. It kept on, growing deeper and 
 more impetuous as the revival influence aug- 
 mented. It was like an electrical atmosphere, 
 showing on the distant clouds some faint cor- 
 ruscations. But as they rolled up and came 
 nearer, sharp flashes might be seen. By and 
 by the whole concave was trembling with aw- 
 ful detonations. Such was Nettleton's preach- 
 ing as the revival atmosphere deepened in 
 breadth and volume. We have known him 
 preach in one of the largest churches in New 
 Haven, every foot of the floor and aisles filled 
 with dense masses, all wearing such a look as 
 can be depicted only by the Spirit of God. 
 Hundreds under conviction turned their tear- 
 ful eyes in the direction of the pulpit, their 
 sighs almost audible, repressed only by the 
 proprieties of the place. How still — how in- 
 tensely, awfully still ! Truly, this is the house 
 of God ; yes, to many the gate of heaven. 
 
DE. ASAHEL NETTLETON. 49 
 
 The preacher is himself oppressed, sustained 
 only by the thought that Grod can and will do 
 his own work. He has gone on and up with 
 the advancing tide of feeling, until now his 
 whole 'soul is elevated to its utmost power and 
 energy. Talk of eloquence ! Never before 
 had I a just impression of what pulpit oratory 
 is. Here is a humble preacher, uttering words 
 so simple that a child can comprehend their 
 meaning, with a manner earnest and solemn, 
 and a heart deeply touched with emotion ; and 
 as he goes on, by illustrations so striking, rea- 
 soning so convincing, and appeals so tender, 
 the audience can scarce refrain from an out- 
 burst of agony. Tears rained silently in those 
 pews, and convictions went deeper and deeper, 
 while many an eye was turned anxiously tow- 
 ards the cross, the only hope set before them. 
 To appreciate Mr. Nettleton, one should have 
 heard him as the writer heard him, under the 
 culminating power of a great revival. Never 
 shall I forget the sermon on " Dives and Laz- 
 arus," delivered in the very height of the relig- 
 ious excitement. Rich men were there. It 
 seemed as if everybody was there, so great was 
 the crowd. The preacher was in his best 
 frame. He gave full scope to his ardent soul. 
 
 Eloquent Preachers. O 
 
50 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 He had great power of description. It was not 
 imagination so much as vivid conception. He 
 could set religious truth in strong lights. On 
 this occasion he carried us forward to the aw- 
 ful and* glorious future. He took us into* heav- 
 en, and even 'into hell. He gave us a glimpse 
 of the glorified Lazarus, and startled us by a 
 vision of the rich sensualist wrapped in sheet- 
 ed flame. Towards 4he close the excitement 
 became almost unbearable. He summoned 
 the lost Dives back to this world. He bade 
 the audience make way for him, pointing along 
 the central aisle. The preacher gazed fearful- 
 ly in the same direction. The audience in- 
 stinctively half turned their heads. Now the 
 flame-tormented soul ascends the pulpit. Start- 
 ing aside, the preacher says, "Listen to one 
 risen from the dead — risen even from hell f 
 when in deep despairing tones the imagined 
 Dives begins to address them. He warns them 
 as only a returned emissary from hell could 
 warn men. It was a scene of intense interest. 
 Never could it have been carried through but 
 for the wave of feeling which had been gather- 
 ing for weeks, and was now at its flood. This 
 sanctioned it, saved it, made it a success. Many 
 were awakened by it to a sense of their sins. 
 
DR. ASAHEL NETTLETON. 51 
 
 The sermons of Dr. Nettleton were usually 
 constructed in a clear, methodical manner. 
 The language was of the simplest kind. The 
 point soon began to appear, and grew sharper 
 and more prominent as he proceeded. Tow- 
 ards the conclusion he would make some sen- 
 tences cut as with a two-edged sword. He 
 used much repetition. A strong, pungent truth 
 would be echoed once, and twice, and even 
 thrice, each reverberation louder and more 
 solemn, as if he hoped by repeated blows to 
 drive it through the most obdurate conscience. 
 I never knew a preacher who could repeat a 
 sentence so often without diminishing its pow- 
 er. He aimed at direct impression ; and no 
 minister perhaps in this country has been more 
 successful in turning many to righteousness, 
 nor will any, as we think, shine more illustri- 
 ously among the stars of the celestial firma- 
 ment. 
 
52 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 DR. LYMAN BEECHER. 
 
 Dr. Beecher's power as a pulpit orator 
 culminated about the period of his removal 
 from Litchfield, Conn., to the Hanover-street 
 church, Boston. He was then not much be- 
 yond fifty years of age, and his reputation as 
 a divine was established on a firm basis. The 
 physical man, of medium height and breadth, 
 was in its perfection ; characterized by strong 
 muscles, a well-set frame, a countenance with 
 the lines of strength predominating over those 
 of age, and more remarkable for vigor of ex- 
 pression than for the beauty of its lineaments. 
 His forehead was not high nor broad, but ex- 
 pressive of intellect, and was surmounted by 
 a heavy mass of iron gray hair. The contour 
 of his face was decidedly Boman. His eye 
 was perhaps the most speaking feature, kin- 
 dling with geniality in social life, and full of, 
 fire when the great themes of religion were 
 under discussion. His mouth was the very 
 symbol of decision; and even when his lips 
 were closed, would give one the idea of indom- 
 itable purpose. As age advanced, the iron 
 
DE. LYMAN BEEOHEE. 53 
 
 gray hair changed to snowy whiteness, and the 
 more genial expression remained long after the 
 high intellectual force had abated. 
 
 His ministry began at East Hampton on 
 the east end of Long Island, where the ocean's 
 thunder and the scream of the eagle gave wild- 
 ness and sublimity to the scene. Here the 
 young giant cradled his genius and nursed it 
 into strength. He was at home amid these 
 wild scenes, and never manifested more natu- 
 ral delight — amounting sometimes almost to 
 rapture — than when he was buffeting the 
 waves in some light craft, or drawing from the 
 deep its finny treasures. 
 
 Yet this great mind was at work, perhaps, 
 at the very moment that he was indulging this 
 joyous pastime. Who can say but in those 
 hours of relaxation by the deep sea he was 
 elaborating those trains of thought which were 
 afterwards to be hurled with startling empha- 
 sis upon the astonished audience. 
 
 He had another mode of recreation which 
 it may not be improper here to mention; 
 namely, the use of the violin. He was fond of 
 the instrument, and employed it to rest the 
 wearied faculties. Having occasion to call 
 upon him,»the writer inquired at the door if 
 
54 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 lie was in. The answer was, "Yes; and by 
 following the sound of the violin which you 
 hear, he may be found on the second floor." 
 So, led by the strain of music, the door was 
 reached and opened. There sat the venerable 
 divine still drawing the bow, and so absorbed, 
 that for an instant the intruder was not no- 
 ticed. When he looked up, he gave one of 
 those genial smiles so expressive of his benev- 
 olent heart, and said, "Do not be surprised at 
 my occupation; this is my pipes and tobacco." 
 It was while Dr. Beecher was at East 
 Hampton that he composed his sermon on 
 "the Sovereignty of God." It was delivered 
 in Newark before the Synod of New York and 
 New Jersey, and so great was the impression, 
 that it brought the author at once into the 
 foreground of distinguished preachers. There 
 was depth of reasoning, force of illustration, 
 and uncommon Saxon vigor in the style. It 
 met the popular objections, and swept them 
 away as with the force of a whirlwind. It 
 revealed the immovable foundations on which 
 the doctrine rested; and none who heard it, 
 or who, after it was in print, read it, could 
 fail to see that it bore the stamp of an hercu- 
 lean intellect. 
 
DR. LYMAN "BEECHEB. 55 
 
 From this date the hitherto obscure pastor 
 of East Hampton drew upon him the eyes of 
 the religious public, and his services were fre- 
 quently required on conspicuous occasions. 
 
 From East Hampton he removed to Litch- 
 field, Conn. Into this new field of labor he 
 brought with him the resources of thought and 
 culture which he had been accumulating in his 
 earlier ministry on Long Island. It was a 
 more interesting as well as wider sphere, inas- 
 much as it furnished not only more minds to 
 act upon, but minds of a high order. Here 
 was the celebrated law school to which the 
 young aspirants for legal and political distinc- 
 tion resorted, and where the ablest teachers of 
 the science of jurisprudence dwelt. These, for 
 the most part, were attendants upon his minis- 
 try. It was just the stimulus which such a 
 mind as his needed. 
 
 Every «8abbath brought under his eye 
 judges and lawyers and law students — minds 
 of great acumen thoroughly trained to discus- 
 sion on subjects of profound interest, and able 
 to appreciate the highest intellectual efforts in 
 the departments of law and of divinity. Dr. 
 Beecher was the man for them, and they were 
 the audience for him. 
 
56 ELOQUENT PKEACHEBS. 
 
 Accordingly all his energies were tasked 
 to bring forth divine truth in its varied aspects, 
 and to assert its claims upon the intellect and 
 the heart. Here were elaborated some of his 
 discourses which have taken rank among the 
 ablest productions of American divines. "The 
 Bible a Code of Laws" was one of them, in 
 which, after a concise array of principles and 
 statements, supported by reasoning brief but 
 convincing, he proceeds to draw numerous in- 
 ferences, that come along in succession, like 
 platoons of artillery, growing heavier in their 
 tread, until the foundations of seductive and 
 fatal error seem to tremble under the march 
 of this " army with banners." When this dis- 
 course was delivered in Park-street church, 
 Boston, it was regarded as one of the most 
 eloquent that had ever been listened to. 
 
 This celebrated sermon, with others of the 
 same type, was the product of lon£ continued 
 thought. It had been delivered to his people 
 at Litchfield in parts, running along over sev- 
 eral Sabbaths, until it was completed. These 
 separate links, seemingly of massive iron, were 
 then forged into one strong chain; and so, by 
 a power of condensation which its author pos- 
 sessed more than almost any preacher we have 
 
DE. LYMAN BEECHEE. 57 
 
 ever known, this grand product of a great in- 
 tellect was given at a single delivery. 
 
 In a ministers' meeting, where the doctor 
 made a report of one of his discourses, giving 
 the heads and many of the illustrations, so 
 original and powerful was the train of thought, 
 that a younger member of the association, 
 struck with its great force, inquired how long 
 it took him to make that sermon. "A life- 
 time," was his laconic reply. To this power 
 of condensation is to be attributed much of the 
 influence exerted by this strong, nervous writ- 
 er. There are no platitudes, no long-drawn 
 array of words or figures. The sentences seem 
 to have been subjected to an hydraulic pres- 
 sure, until not a word can be spared nor an 
 argument omitted without manifest loss to the 
 effect of the discourse. 
 
 His Sermons on Intemperance, coming out 
 as they did at the very commencement of the 
 moral crusade, are a wonderful series. By 
 their power of logic, by their force of illustra- 
 tion, by all the pictorial horrors of the vice 
 assailed, including warnings the most startling 
 and appeals the most touching, clothed in lan- 
 guage as remarkable for its strength as for its 
 classic beauty, they bring out the genius and 
 
 3* 
 
58 ELOQUENT- PEEACHEES. 
 
 power of the man, and constitute a claim to 
 the admiration as well as the gratitude of the 
 public. A heavier blow at the gigantic vice 
 of the age has not been given. 
 
 As an eloquent minister, Dr. Beecher, to 
 be fully appreciated, must be regarded in tjie 
 practical and experimental, as well as the con- 
 troversial field. True, he was in polemic dis- 
 cussions almost unrivalled. He could con- 
 struct an argument on the spur of the mo- 
 ment. His mind acted with electrical rapidi- 
 ty, and only needed an atmosphere to start the 
 current and send off the fiery explosions. Ea- 
 tionalism never met a more formidable antag- 
 onist, and bald infidelity could not stand for a 
 moment before the thunder-peals of his elo- 
 quence. Still we must look at him in the lec- 
 ture-room, or follow him into revival scenes, 
 where his whole soul was drawn out in analyz- 
 ing Christian experience, and in the deep 
 heart-rending emotions which a sight of con- 
 victed sinners produced. We must listen to 
 his unpremeditated and tender appeals, in 
 order to know more thoroughly the power of 
 the preacher. Here his piety flamed up by its 
 own kindling emotions. The great jnind here 
 dropped at once into the spirit of the child; 
 
DR. LYMAN BEECHER. 59 
 
 and uniting the grandeur of a strong intellect 
 with the tenderness of a sympathetic heart, he 
 gave out lessons of love such as filled the whole 
 place with a heavenly atmosphere. No man 
 was jnore at home in revival scenes than he, 
 and few on such occasions have been more hon- 
 ored as instruments in the conversion of souls. 
 
 His introduction into Boston was under 
 propitious circumstances. Evangelical relig- 
 ion had received a new impulse. The revival 
 spirit had begun to manifest itself in several of 
 the churches ; and the new one, to which he 
 was called, was already aglow with the heav- 
 enly fire. Looking about for a leader, they 
 saw one in the eloquent pastor at Litchfield. 
 He came at their call ; and at once the city of 
 the pilgrims rang with his cry. His church 
 was thronged not so much from curiosity as to 
 hear one who, with overpowering eloquence, 
 preached God's sovereignty and God's mercy ; 
 who held up the cross as the only palladium 
 of a sinner's safety ; who knew nothing among 
 men but "Jesus Christ and him crucified." 
 
 When, by an inscrutable providence, the 
 Hanover-street church was burned down, a 
 new one arose quickly from its ashes. Crowds 
 pressed into it; and such was the power of 
 
60 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 God upon his preaching, that many who ' ' went 
 to mock remained to pray." Conversions 
 were numerous ; and the church at length, 
 overflowing as to its membership, began to col- 
 onize into other new churches, until the evan- 
 gelical faith took root in every part of the 
 city. 
 
 At this period we. suppose Dr. Beecher's 
 power as to eloquence reached its highest 
 point. He was never more eloquent — never 
 had greater weight of influence — never struck 
 heavier blows at the kingdom of darkness. 
 
 A conscientious sense of duty led him to 
 the West, where he assumed the responsibili- 
 ties of both a pastor and a theological teacher. 
 This twofold burden was too heavy even for 
 his herculean shoulders to bear. His iron 
 frame began to give way. It became neces- 
 sary first to cast off some of the burden, and 
 after a while the whole. He retired from the 
 more onerous and active duties of the ministry ; 
 and reappearing, with a weight of threescore 
 years upon him, among his old friends at the 
 East, he was received with open arms and 
 warm, grateful hearts. Gradually he suc- 
 cumbed to the pressure of advancing years, 
 but still retaining all the warmth of a piety 
 
DR. LYMAN BEECHER. 61 
 
 the sincerity and earnestness of which none 
 that knew him ever questioned. 
 
 Dr. Beecher's eloquence was unlike that of 
 any other preacher whom we have known. It 
 was not marked by studied action, or previous 
 drill, or the usual rules of elocution. There 
 was no majesty of person, no liquid rotundity 
 of voice, no gracefulness of manner. He dealt 
 sparingly in figures of speech, using them only 
 when they gave greater force to the sentiment. 
 His manner in the pulpit some would call awk- 
 ward, others blunt, and others perhaps even 
 harsh. Yet amid all this, who that ever lis- 
 tened to him when his great mind was roused, 
 and the course was clear, and the whole moral 
 .and mental man was strained for the race, can 
 fail to concede a power of eloquence which car- 
 ried all before it ? 
 
 His great power lay in the thought, and 
 such thought as seldom takes verbal life. It 
 was such thought as came from a mind of deep 
 original conceptions. It was less like gold- 
 dust than gold nuggets. It impressed one not 
 - . -,only with the richness of the specimens, but 
 with the untold richness of the mine from 
 which they were dug. 
 
 But was there nothing impressive in his 
 
62 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 manner? There was. Earnestness was one 
 feature. Never was a preacher more earnest. 
 There was animation. Every nerve quivered 
 under it. Though not musical, the voice was 
 strong, accumulating power as he proceeded, 
 and driving home the grand logic of the dis- 
 course. There was at times emotion. This 
 was especially discernible in his sermons on 
 practical religion. But the grand secret of his 
 eloquence after all lay, as we have said, in the 
 strong original thought, set in a frame of logic 
 so bold and clear that the most common intel- 
 lect could understand him. Conviction with 
 him seemed to be the great thing. To use a 
 military figure, he stormed the moral affections 
 by approaches through the intellect. He first; 
 gained the assent of the reason, or rather forced 
 it, and then directed his blows upon the con- 
 science and the heart. 
 
 His power in the pulpit was also augmented 
 by his peculiar use of the Saxon tongue. 
 Never have we listened to a man who could 
 express a theological idea in clearer or more 
 forcible terms, such as one of the commonest 
 of his hearers could understand and recognize 
 as appropriate. He had Carlisle's strength, 
 without his -verbal eccentricity. 
 
DR. LYMAN BEECHER. 63 
 
 Nor was Dr, Beecher wanting in pictorial 
 power. Listening to him on one occasion 
 when describing the penitent woman who 
 kneeled at our Lord's feet, and washed them 
 with her tears, the whole scene in concise but 
 graphic language was placed vividly before 
 the imagination. Every part of the descrip- 
 tion had life. It was the power of a moral 
 painter using words as the artist uses colors, 
 to bring out and give force to the preconceived 
 picture. 
 
 That Dr. Beecher 's style was perfect not 
 his warmest admirer would assert; that he 
 lacked the graces usually desired and expected 
 in a pulpit orator every one who knew him 
 must admit; that his manner was sometimes 
 so abrupt as to grate on the ears of his more 
 sensitive hearers, even this we are obliged to 
 concede. But after all, his noble range of 
 thought, his entire consecration to his work, 
 his intense love of Christ, and his exultant 
 faith in the certain triumphs of truth and 
 righteousness, his simplicity and sincerity 
 seen in every act and word, his unselfish and 
 unworldly spirit, all combined to render him 
 one of the most powerful and influential 
 preachers our country has produced. 
 
64 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 DR. HENRY B. BASCOM. 
 
 Many years ago, passing clown the North 
 river, I fell in company with several Metho- 
 dist ministers. They were on their way to 
 the New York Conference. Said one of them 
 to me, "Have you ever heard Dr. Bascom?" 
 I had not. "Well, then," he added, "you 
 have not heard the most eloquent preacher in 
 the United States.' 7 I could not of course 
 deny it, and my politeness forbade me to ex- 
 press the doubt which I entertained. But I 
 determined to judge for myself, should the op- 
 portunity occur. Soon it did. The announce- 
 ment that the great pulpit orator was to preach 
 drew an immense audience to the Murray-street 
 church. Every seat and standing-place was 
 occupied long ere the service commenced. 
 From a glance, it was evident that our most 
 intelligent citizens were there. Ministers, law- 
 yers, editors — in fact all professions were nu- 
 merously represented. No man could wish 
 for a finer or more appreciating audience. 
 There was a preliminary rustle — usual on such 
 
DK. HENRY B. BASCOM. 65 
 
 occasions — when the preacher entered and 
 took the central chair on the platform pulpit. 
 
 Dr. Bascom's appearance and manner were 
 not ministerial. Had we not known him to be 
 a preacher, we should have taken him for a 
 spruce politician. He had a jaunty look, and 
 his shining black stock and well- trimmed 
 whiskers and fashionable costume seemed not 
 in keeping with the usually staid and very 
 plain exterior of the clergy of his own denom- 
 ination. This peculiarity had given umbrage 
 to the leaders of Methodism, and had caused 
 no small personal vexation to their not very 
 acquiescent brother. The Methodism of these 
 days looks more to the inner and less to the 
 outer man ; and a minister's costume, unless it 
 were in the extreme of the fashion, would 
 hardly be noticed. The truth is, Dr. Bas- 
 com's fine person and free, easy manner made 
 any garb look well on him ; so that on one 
 occasion, when a scrupulous father made him 
 a present of a round-cut coat on the condition 
 that lie would wear it, it was found, on don- 
 ning it, that he looked more genteel than be- 
 fore. He had what might be called a dashing 
 air, the growth, apparently, of that bold and 
 self-reliant feeling which rough western life 
 
66 ELOQUENT PBEACHEES. 
 
 almost necessarily produces! For long years 
 in early manhood he had struggled with pov- 
 erty ; had been exposed to perils in the wil- 
 derness ; had forded rivers and swamps ; slept 
 in log huts ; lived on poor and scanty fare ; 
 studied his sermons by the light of pine knots ; 
 rode thousands of miles to preach to here and 
 there a scattered remnant of humanit}^ — his 
 audiences amounting to a hundred at most, 
 and reduced sometimes to four or five, and 
 they of the rudest kind. 
 
 Such was Bascom's training, such the school 
 in which he learned to think, to act, to suffer, 
 to trust. But now, when we saw him, he had 
 graduated to a higher sphere. He had come 
 up out of the wilderness. Still that wilderness 
 had cast about him the mantle of a sublime 
 freedom, which, though he had exchanged the 
 camel's hair and leathern girdle for the broad- 
 cloth, was discernible in every movement of 
 mind and muscle. His people did not for a 
 long time understand him, misinterpreted his 
 manners, and criticized needlessly his exterior. 
 But the sublime, self-reliant man kept on, leav- 
 ing to time and truth the charge of his reputa- 
 tion. That sacred trust they kept, and when 
 we heard him in Murray-street, the mists of 
 
DE. HENRY B. BASCOM. 67 
 
 prejudice had been exhaled, and his reputa- 
 tion shone out upon a cloudless sky. His per- 
 son was prepossessing, dignified ; his eye, dark 
 and piercing, glanced nervously over the vast 
 assembly. In every countenance he saw high 
 expectation, and though well prepared to meet 
 it, he evidently suffered under a secret tremor. 
 Others led the devotions. Bascom, it was said, 
 seldom prayed in public — never when the oc- 
 casion was conspicuous and he the preacher. 
 Why? Some said "he had not the gift." But 
 another reason may be suggested. Yery prob- 
 ably he was so absorbed in his subject, and so 
 excited by the presence of a vast crowd, that 
 he felt unfit to perform a service requiring a 
 calm and reverential frame of spirit. He seems 
 not to have entered into the spirit of the old 
 divine when asked by a young preacher to 
 offer prayer : "No," said he; "whet your own 
 sword." Bascom was accustomed to whet his, 
 we hope, before he came to the sanctuary. 
 
 What shall we say of the discourse on this 
 occasion? That it equalled expectation? High 
 as that was, he soared far above it. He was 
 then in the zenith of his power. His voice 
 was flexible, but well controlled. It had com- 
 pass and clearness both. His emphasis was 
 
68 ELOQUENT PEEACHEBS. 
 
 admirably laid ; his utterance rapid, yet every 
 word distinct. His gestures were forced from 
 him, and therefore graceful and impressive. 
 His reserved power — if we may so call it, 
 which always distinguishes the true orator — was 
 felt to be immense. High as his nights were, 
 it seemed as if he could with ease have gone 
 far higher. Wide as his range was, it was felt 
 that he was putting a check on his impetuous 
 and discursive intellect. His eye grew brighter 
 and brighter, until the gleams of the soul, dart- 
 ing through it, were like heat lightning play- 
 ing and flashing incessantly from out the lurid 
 cloud. He gained his audience at first, and 
 held them to the close in rapt attention. It 
 was like the mystic symbol of Ezekiel — a fiery 
 car, with wheels rolling on clouds — taking us 
 up and putting us clown at pleasure. We were 
 entirely in his hands. Our judgment was taken 
 away from us. There was no power to criti- 
 cize. Our imagination was excited, and the 
 whole concave of thought seemed lit up as with 
 a brilliant aurora. 
 
 He had a great theme — Africa and her ill- 
 fated sons ; colonization, the bright star of hope 
 to a depressed race. It was a subject on which 
 he had thought long and felt deeply, until his 
 
DR. HENRY B. BASCOM. 69 
 
 emotions had become like the pent-up fires of 
 a volcano. Both his intellect and his sympa- 
 thies were intensely excited. His genius asked 
 no sublimer theme. He pictured Africa, her 
 past and her present ; her grandeur of old, and 
 her degradation now. He dwelt upon her 
 wrongs ; he predicted the future civilization 
 that was to overspread her shores ; he recog- 
 nized Providence in bringing Africa here, bap- 
 tizing her in suffering, to prepare her for her 
 mission and to elevate her to glory. It was a 
 discourse of overwhelming power. The critics 
 might say that it was too picturesque, too exu- 
 berant in metaphor ; in fact, oratorically too 
 splendid. But this was the preacher's forte. 
 He lacked not logical power, but his preemi- 
 nence rested mainly on a brilliant fancy, which 
 hovered over his logic and shed her rainbow 
 beauties upon it. Yet every thing was natural. 
 There was no straining after images. They- 
 came robed in imperial beauty. There was 
 no artificial tone, no swell and cadence, no 
 studied attitudes. He spftke as a natural ora- 
 tor ; in a style conversational, but intensety 
 earnest, as one would speak whose whole aim 
 was to carry conviction by the combined power 
 of intellect and passion. 
 
70 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 This discourse was over two hours long, 
 but seemed not longer than an ordinary ser- 
 mon. Listening to such eloquence, "we take 
 no note of time-." Hours seem minutes, and 
 we dread the coming of the last sentence. So 
 deep was the impression, that, as the vast au- 
 dience broke up, the commonplace exclama- 
 tions of eulogy were scarcely heard. It seemed 
 superfluous to ask anybody how they liked it. 
 The deep current of feeling was depicted in 
 every man's countenance. 
 
 "His style," says one, "combined the 
 beauty of Young, the strength of Wesley, the 
 eloquence of Chalmers, and the sublimity of 
 Hall." But this is extravagant. He had not 
 the classical purity of Hall, neither had he the 
 gorgeous drapery of Chalmers. And had he 
 the nervous simplicity of Wesley ? Let Wes- 
 ley's followers answer. Still, his splendid 
 fancy threw over his composition such brilliant 
 lights -as dazzled the eye, and made it incapa- 
 ble, in a 'measure, of detecting the manifest 
 faults of his style. *He lacked precision, con- 
 densation. He was too lavish of words. They 
 were piled up in massive grandeur, so as some- 
 times almost to conceal the thought. Meta- 
 phor followed metaphor, until we seemed like 
 
DE. HENBY B. BASCOM. 71 
 
 travellers among the tropics, assailed and over- 
 powered by aromatic sweets, entranced by 
 floral beauties, and amazed at the deep peren- 
 nial verdure. But such is the very style that 
 attracts and enraptures a listening audience. 
 To alter it for one more correct, would have 
 been like clipping the wings of an eagle, and 
 then bidding him soar towards the sun. Bas- 
 com's genius would have died under such rigid 
 discipline. He must be himself. Yain would 
 have been the attempt to bind around such a 
 mind the restraints of artificial rules. He 
 would have cast them off with the same ease 
 and proud disdain as Samson cast off the green 
 withes or the flaxen cords. Whatever viola- 
 tion of rhetorical rules may be chargeable on 
 this great pulpit orator, certain it is that no 
 preacher in this country has made a deeper 
 impression on the popular mind. "And," 
 says the eloquent Abbe Maury, "the people 
 are the * best and only proper judges of our 
 eloquence." 
 
 Dr. Bascom, some have affirmed, was a 
 memoriter preacher. But this his biographer 
 denies. He says that his custom was to draw 
 out his plan on a piece of paper, and then 
 walking to and fro, for hours sometimes, he 
 
72 ELOQUENT PKEACHEBS. 
 
 studied the arguments and shaped out the 
 illustrations. This done, he threw it aside 
 until the time for its delivery. "From this 
 habit," he goes on to say, "young orators 
 might learn a useful lesson. Nothing is more 
 common perhaps, with public speakers, than 
 to study intensely their subjects up to the mo- 
 ment of appearing in public ; the natural effect 
 of which is to weaken, if not prostrate, the 
 mental energies before coming to the point 
 where these must be called fully into action or 
 the speaker fail. Bascom understood the phi- 
 losophy of the mind too well to expend in the 
 drill the strength essential to success in the 
 battle." 
 
 His piety ; what shall we say of that ? 
 To enter largely into it would lead us away 
 from our main intent. Suffice it to say, it was 
 deep, without being ostentatious. His zeal 
 was intense, without being fanatical ; his self- 
 denial for Christ's sake, seldom, in- modern 
 times, equalled. As to his creed, it may be 
 learned from the closing scene.. Among the 
 last words which he uttered were these : "All 
 nry trust and confidence is in almighty good- 
 ness, as revealed in the cross of Christ." 
 
DE. EDWAED PAYSON. 73 
 
 DR. EDWARD PAYSON. 
 
 The name of Payson is embalmed in the 
 memory of evangelical Christians. He was 
 in some respects the model minister. His 
 deeply sympathetic nature led him to rejoice 
 with them that rejoiced, and to weep with them 
 that wept. He was the father as well as the 
 pastor of his flock. So thoroughly did he iden- 
 tify himself with them, that even their earthly 
 trials became a bond of mutual sympathy. 
 
 He is a fit representative of the emotional 
 class of preachers. His mental was much 
 influenced by his nervous constitution. The 
 latter was a fine-stringed instrument, keyed 
 up to its utmost tension. The intellect, like 
 the invisible wind acting on an iEolian harp, 
 would touch now a plaintive and now an in- 
 spiring chord. As he felt, so he spoke. 
 
 He was not a man of remarkable bodily pres- 
 ence. To use the language of one who knew 
 him intimately, "He was of medium height, 
 good proportions, a little stooping in posture ; 
 hair black, face angular, and features strongly 
 marked with expressions of quiet benevolence 
 
 Eloquent Preachers. 4 
 
74 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 and decision; eyes dark and fall, slightly re- 
 tired under a brow somewhat raised, placid 
 and a little downcast in their ordinary expres- 
 sion, but keen and scrutinizing when raised 
 and fastened on an object. In silence his coun- 
 tenance was marked with care and though tful- 
 ness, which were awakened in conversation 
 into the most vivid expressions of mental activ- 
 ity and emotion." 
 
 The religious was the modifying and all- 
 controlling element in Payson's character. 
 Every other feature took its shape and color- 
 ing from this. As the coin in passing through 
 the mint, whether it be gold or copper, receives 
 the same external stamp, so his words and 
 thoughts, his ordinary discourse as well as his 
 highest intellectual efforts, bore the imprint of 
 his heavenly spirit. In the pulpit or out, the 
 minister was never lost in the man. His offi- 
 cial robe was not put on and off, but worn 
 ever. Hence no man in conversation with 
 him would think of indulging in levity, or even 
 ordinary familiarity. Some may object to this 
 as forming a barrier to social freedom, and 
 tending to drive away those who, by a more 
 free and familiar style of manners, might have 
 been won to piety and virtue. But we say, 
 
DE. EDWARD PAYSON. 75 
 
 let every one act in character. If a minister's 
 soul is taken up with heavenly things, as was 
 Dr. Payson's, it would be folly to sacrifice the 
 religious to the social spirit. It would in fact 
 be hypocrisy. The man whose temperament 
 and tendencies, on the other hand, are more 
 social than religious, would only play a part 
 by foisting into his conversation, from a sense 
 of duty, sentiments the force of which he did 
 not really feel. Still it must be regretted that 
 in Dr. Payson's manner the sombre frequently 
 prevailed over the genial. He often lacked that 
 sacred hilarity, if we may so term it, which 
 graced the character of Legh Richmond and 
 John Angel James, and which, while it would 
 not have lessened his influence as a minister, 
 would have made him more generally attrac- 
 tive as a man. 
 
 Much of the apparent gloom which tinged 
 his countenance and manner was the result of 
 a disordered state of the physical system. 
 "The harp of a thousand strings" was only 
 occasionally in tune. When it was, it spoke 
 heavenly music. Did he mistake this for the 
 ecstacy of devotion ? It may have had some 
 influence on his religious emotions. His heav- 
 en of joy may have had something to do with 
 
76 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 recuperated nerves under a clear atmosphere, 
 and his valley and shadow of death may in 
 part be attributable to floating icebergs and 
 easterly fogs acting on the most sensitive of 
 beings. On one page of his diary are written 
 mourning, lamentation, and woe ; and on the 
 next he breaks out in songs of rapture, in the 
 full belief that God is both his refuge and his 
 portion. Jn this respect, one is reminded of 
 David's experience, as given in the Psalms. 
 The same alternations of hope and despondency 
 appear in many of the sacred lyrics. The most 
 plaintive beginning ends often in the most tri- 
 umphant shouts of praise. Payson's heart 
 seems to have been set to the same key-note, 
 and to have reverberated the same alternately 
 mournful and exultant strains. The tempera- 
 ments of the two were not perhaps very dis- 
 similar. But though Payson's religious expe- 
 rience was somewhat modified by physical 
 causes, we would by no means deny that spir- 
 itual influences were at work in these deep and 
 diversified agitations of his soul. The emo- 
 tional part of religion is a subtle and mysteri- 
 ous subject, shaping itself somewhat according 
 to the peculiar temperament of the individual. 
 Men of strong emotions and deep passions are 
 
DK. EDWARD PAYSON. 77 
 
 exercised very differently from those who are 
 naturally cold and phlegmatic. Payson was 
 of the former class. His soul was a sea of 
 emotion, stirred or tranquillized by the breath 
 of the Spirit, dark and tempestuous at times, 
 and anon reflecting from its calm surface the 
 image of heaven. 
 
 This emotional nature was drawn out in the 
 closet under great wrestlings. It appeared in 
 the social meeting, where tears were mingled 
 with entreaties. It went with him into the 
 pulpit. He looked over his audience as our 
 Lord looked down upon Jerusalem, and his 
 soul was stirred to its very depths in view of 
 the impenitent and their hastening doom. He 
 seized hold of the sinner as the deputed angel 
 did of Lot, and would fain have dragged him 
 from the fiery ruin. Hence in his sermons 
 there were overwhelming appeals and deep- 
 toned warnings. So great at times .were his 
 emotions, that it seemed to one listening as if 
 he had gathered his impressions of eternal ret- 
 ribution from actual vision. 
 
 The impression which Payson's preaching 
 made upon his hearers was that of one who 
 had no thought of any thing but the salvation 
 of souls. Nobody could say that he was mere- 
 
78 ELOQUENT PKEACHEKS. 
 
 ly discharging an official duty, much less would 
 any be disposed to attribute to him a desire 
 for popularity. The very aspect of the man 
 suggested the idea of sincerity. Every word 
 tended to deepen that impression. Imme- 
 diately, even at the first utterances, there was 
 established a sympathy between the preacher 
 and his auditors. It was not his commanding 
 appearance, nor any studied elocution, nor a 
 remarkably fine voice : it was rather the spirit 
 of the man — an undercurrent of deep, heart- 
 felt emotion which he was struggling to rej3ress, 
 but which would overflow in tremulous tones, 
 in pathetic exclamations, in earnest appeals. 
 Hence language which might have been es- 
 teemed harsh and even dreadful, if uttered by 
 another, was tolerated in him, because it was 
 spoken with such evident love and tenderness. 
 "His severest expressions," says one, "were 
 uttered with the moving tenderness of a heart 
 that yearned over the guilt and impending 
 misery of his fellow-men. The wounds he in- 
 flicted were the wounds of a friend. Those on 
 whom his strokes fell with deadliest effect could 
 not but feel that benevolence aimed the blow." 
 In reading Payson's printed sermons, one 
 would not discover the secret of his power. 
 
DE. EDWARD PAYSON. 79 
 
 They are evangelical, clear, pungent, .and well 
 written ; but there is not condensation of 
 thought; there are no very sharp, pointed 
 sentences, nothing that gives the impression of 
 extraordinary talent. It must have been the 
 spirit of the man which animated and gave 
 electrical power to these discourses. "The 
 thunder-storm could not be printed." The 
 deep, holy fervor evaporated when the attempt 
 was made to put it in type. Such is the tes- 
 timony of those who sat under his teachings. 
 " You must not judge of him," say they, " by 
 his printed sermons. You should have felt the 
 gush of high spiritual emotion with which they 
 were delivered, and which touched and inter- 
 ested every heart." 
 
 All allow that no minister of modern times 
 had greater unction and appropriateness in 
 prayer. Public, extemporaneous prayer it is 
 difficult to offer so as to enlist the sympathies 
 of an accompanying audience. Few excel in 
 it. But Payson did. It was because he lived in 
 the atmosphere of devotion. His soul was half 
 on wing always. It was no forced effort for 
 him to rise. He walked with God. God was 
 with him as he entered the pulpit. How easy 
 and how natural for such a man, gifted too with 
 
80 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 great command of language, to throw his whole 
 soul into the devotional exercises. People 
 were amazed and awe-struck at" the power and 
 pathos of his prayers. He seemed as if talk- 
 iug with God face to face ; yet so reverently, 
 with such importunity, with such self-abase- 
 ment, such naturalness, such childlike confi- 
 dence, that the listener could not help saying 
 to himself, " Surely G-od is in this place." Was 
 not his success as a preacher intimately con- 
 nected with this power of prayer ? 
 
 There was one characteristic of this good 
 man which tended to interest the minds of his 
 people and to awaken the attention of the care- 
 less. It was his ingenuity in devising ways of 
 usefulness, and in carrying them out. His 
 whole aim was to keep things moving in the 
 right direction. The least flagging of zeal on 
 the part of his church was painful to him. He 
 was cast down also if souls were not converted. 
 Every expedient which his generous heart 
 could devise, not inconsistent with Scripture, 
 was brought to bear, for the quickening of his 
 people in duty, and for arousing the attention 
 of the slumber-bound sinner. Some would 
 call him indiscreet. Perhaps he was. To pre- 
 dict a revival in the midst of coldness seemed 
 
DB. EDWARD PAYSON. 81 
 
 so. The moral risk was great. Yet the revi- 
 val came. Possibly in his own soul there may 
 have been something to justify the announce- 
 ment. But who, in looking back on the ca- 
 reer of this glorious man, would be disposed to 
 criticize his doings ? Such a life and such 
 labors ended as we might have expected. Few 
 death scenes have been so bright — have had 
 in and around them so much of heaven. He 
 died exclaiming with his last breath, " Peace, 
 peace! victory, victory!" 
 
 4* 
 
82 ELOQUENT PKEACHEItS. 
 
 DR. EDWARD DORR GRIFFIN. 
 
 Lsr regard to the distinguished preachers of 
 a past generation who are often referred to in 
 conversation or quoted in discourse, there is 
 naturally excited among later men and minis- 
 ters a desire to know something of their per- 
 sonal appearance, their peculiarities, and "the 
 hiding of their power." Dr. Griffin is one of 
 this class. Imagine then a man six feet three 
 inches in height, well-proportioned, without 
 being corpulent; with a head covered thickly 
 with hair white as snow ; a forehead low, yet 
 firmly set ; a large rubicund face ; nose dis- 
 proportionately small ; eyes dark, small, and 
 piercing ; mouth indicative of refinement ; and 
 a countenance, taken altogether, wearing such 
 an expression as great talent and high culture 
 usually develope. His step was slow and 
 measured. Every motion was dignified and in 
 keeping with his lofty stature. Standing in 
 the ecclesiastical assembly, like Saul among 
 his brethren, he was head and shoulders above 
 them all. As he slowly paced up the aisle, 
 
DR. EDWARD DORR GRIFFIN. 83 
 
 every eye was fixed upon him ; and the feel- 
 ing was, if his preaching corresponds with his 
 height, what a Boanerges he must be ! No 
 pulpit was adapted to him. Bibles, cushions, 
 and sometimes even benches, had to be piled 
 up in front for the convenience of the gigantic 
 preacher. . 
 
 He was a very genial man. His warm, 
 affectionate heart entered sympathizing^ into 
 the joys or griefs of others ; and never was he 
 more in his element than when, surrounded by 
 his ministerial brethren, and discoursing with 
 them on the interests of Zion, he became the 
 radiant centre of the social circle. His collo- 
 quial powers were almost unrivalled, yet^he 
 had little of that egotism and lecturing style 
 which characterize certain distinguished di- 
 vines, and which, while it may display their 
 talents, is sometimes tedious and repulsivej 
 
 Dr. Griffin's mind was graded to a high 
 scale, and partook both of the reasoning and 
 the imaginative qualities. Without being a 
 poet, he was at times poetical ; and without 
 being a professed dialectician, no man under- 
 stood better the province and practice of logic. 
 His earlier sermons were marked by the pre- 
 ponderance of the poetical quality. They 
 
84 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 might be called flowery. The style was am- 
 bitious, and the rhetoric was more conspicuous 
 than the reasoning. But as age and experi- 
 ence gave solemnity to his thoughts, and the 
 revival atmosphere gave intensity to his emo- 
 tions, his style gradually changed into one of 
 greater simplicity and point, until he became 
 one of the most forcible and pungent preachers 
 in the land. In later life his diction was se- 
 verely simple, and his sentences full of nervous 
 energy. 
 
 He was one who required an occasion to 
 call forth his great powers, and ample time for 
 preparation. He was not a man to be sum- 
 moned suddenly — not "an off-hand man,' 7 so 
 to speak. He might indeed succeed, but was 
 more likely, in such an emergency, to fail. 
 He was not accustomed always to task his 
 powers. His ordinary discourses were said to 
 be sometimes commonplace, and by no means 
 up to the expectations. But give him time 
 and give him an occasion, and all the slum- 
 bering genius would rise and overwhelm with 
 astonishment the listening audience. No man 
 who heard his "plea for Africa," delivered in 
 the Wall-street church, can ever forget the 
 sublime thoughts and deep § emotion of that 
 
DE. EDWAED DOER GEIFFIN. 85 
 
 memorable occasion. Nor less powerful was 
 the impression when he preached his cele- 
 brated sermon on the missionary enterprise. 
 In these discourses are blended the glow of 
 fancy, a deep current of reasoning, and the 
 most tender, touching appeals. They are 
 classics in our pulpit lore. 
 
 As might be supposed, Dr. Griffin's man- 
 ner in the desk was of that chastened, digni- 
 fied style which propitiates the hearer, and 
 prepares him to listen attentively and seriously 
 to what is said. There was nothing done for 
 effect ; no assumed devotion, no measuring 
 with his eye the number or intellectual grade 
 of his audience. He took the pulpit simply to 
 preach Christ, and him crucified. Gravity and 
 seriousness marked every word and gesture. 
 His voice was not deep nor heavy, as, from 
 his great stature, one might have expected. It 
 was smooth, clear, and far-reaching. Every 
 word, uttered with distinctness, fell gratefully 
 and intelligibly on the ear. No matter how 
 large the edifice, the farthest pew had equal 
 advantages with the nearest. It seemed, to 
 one listening, as if that voice had never been 
 tested as to its volume and far-reaching power. 
 It was under the most complete control. The 
 
86 ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 lowest note was audible, and it swelled with 
 graceful augmentation, until, in its highest 
 pitch, it called forth startling, echoes from 
 every wall of the building. 
 
 He was an emotional preacher. Though 
 using notes, or rather, a full-written manu- 
 script, "his heart" — to quote one of his own 
 strong expressions — "palpitated on the paper." 
 Nobody seemed to be aware that he was read- 
 ing. Though the manuscript was before him, 
 yet his whole soul was absorbed in the great 
 thoughts he was uttering, and his eye intent 
 on fixing the full and true impress on the 
 hearts of his hearers. There were certain 
 hymns which he was accustomed to give out, 
 *the reading of which, in his peculiar style and 
 intonation, went directly to the heart. His 
 elocution, so far as we could judge, was per- 
 fect. Every word and sentiment had its full 
 and natural force. It was a treat to any man 
 of taste and devotional feeling to listen to him 
 as he read the hymn beginning, "Ere the blue 
 heavens were stretched abroad." When he 
 struck upon the fourth verse, his voice, trem- 
 ulous with emotion, fell into a sweet minor, 
 and carried every heart with it as he con- 
 tinued, 
 
DR. EDWARD DORR GRIFFIN. 87 
 
 " But lo, He leaves those heavenly forms ; 
 The Word descends and dwells with clay, 
 That He may converse hold with worms, 
 Dressed in such feeble flesh as they." 
 
 Whatever lie undertook, he threw his whole 
 soul into the work. As a professor at Ando- 
 ver, he was the enthusiastic and successful 
 teacher of sacred elocution. His removal to 
 Boston was under circumstances of deep inter- 
 est. The icy barriers of rationalism were to 
 be assailed. Some giant arm was needed to 
 do the work. The demand was for powerful 
 mind and muscle. An orthodox fortress, rear- 
 ed in the very centre of lapsed Puritanism, 
 was to be manned and officered ; and Dr. Grif- 
 fin was solicited to lead "the forlorn hope." 
 He accepted. His fame as a pulpit orator 
 drew many to hear the gospel ; and Park- 
 street church became celebrated under the 
 sobriquet of "Brimstone -corner." At first 
 Unitarians, drawn by his graceful and power- 
 ful delivery, endured his scathing rebukes and 
 pungent appeals, tolerating the doctrines for 
 the sake of the eloquent manner in which they 
 were presented. But curiosity once satisfied, 
 they fell back on their preconceived notions, 
 and voted orthodoxy a greater absurdity than 
 
88 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 ever. The "Park-street lectures" are a pow- 
 erful defence of the evangelical doctrine. If 
 they did not convince Unitarians, they at least 
 confirmed the orthodox and strengthened some 
 who had been wavering. 
 
 But he was not at home, after all, in the 
 Puritan city. He found that so intense and 
 long-continued a hatred of the doctrines of 
 grace, on tjie part of the rich and influential, 
 had created a popular aversion to these doc- 
 trines which all his powerful efforts could not 
 overcome. Still, to this day his faithfulness is 
 spoken of with warm approval, and his elo- 
 quence has left a sweet savor that hangs around 
 the Park-street corner, like the scent of flow- 
 ers around the vase in which they were dis- 
 played. 
 
 We cannot close our sketch without ad- 
 verting to a peculiar charm of his preaching, 
 as characterized by the revival spirit. He was 
 greatly blessed in his pastorate at Newark 
 and elsewhere with powerful effusions of the 
 Holy Spirit, No minister entered more warm- 
 ly into these harvest seasons. He knew how 
 to bring the great truths of the gospel with 
 overwhelming yet tender force on the unawak- 
 ened and awakened conscience. He loved to 
 
DE. EDWARD DORR GRIFFIN. 89 
 
 leacl the burdened sinner to the foot of the 
 cross, and there weep with him and pray with 
 him until the tears of penitence were succeeded 
 by the smiles of hope and joy. At length this 
 good man and great preacher succumbed to 
 the power, of disease, and went to heaven as 
 calmly as the sun sets in a clear autumnal 
 evening. 
 
90 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 REV. ROBERT HALL. 
 
 By the death of this great preacher in Feb- 
 ruary, 1831, one of the brightest lights of the 
 British pulpit was extinguished. His elo- 
 quence, partaking the qualities of the two 
 great»masters and exemplars of the Grecian 
 and Roman school, had no superior then, and 
 is not likely to have any hereafter. In his 
 peculiarities as a pulpit orator he was alone, 
 and stood out in strong relief. Others may 
 have made a greater impression on promiscu- 
 ous audiences, but none have gone down deep- 
 er in the reflective and cultivated British mind. 
 Gifted with an intellect of innate strength and 
 precocious development — reading and relish- 
 ing "Edwards on the Will" at eleven years of 
 age — with an imagination soaring to the utmost 
 heights and diving to the utmost depths, this 
 incomparable man chose to exert his powers 
 in the noblest of callings and to disport his 
 imagination on the sublimest of themes. In his 
 early training he was favored with ample lit- 
 erary advantages, first at the British Academy, 
 and afterwards at King's college, Aberdeen. 
 
REV. ROBERT HALL. 91 
 
 While at the former, though a mere stripling, 
 he was urged prematurely into the pulpit, in 
 order to try his gifts. The trial came near 
 depriving the world of his brilliant services. 
 Proceeding in his discourse for a few moments, 
 he suddenly covered his face with his hands, 
 and exclaimed, "All my ideas are fled." Still 
 more mortified was he at a second failure; 
 when, hastening from the pulpit to his closet, 
 he said, "If this don't humble me, the devil 
 must have me." Doubtless it did humble 
 him; and after a more thorough mental disci- 
 pline at Aberdeen, he entered the pulpit under 
 better auspices — "a workman that needed not 
 to be ashamed." At King's college he moved 
 through the course of study with all the ease 
 and enthusiasm of a practised competitor. 
 There it was he became intimate with Sir 
 James Mcintosh, and the two — -par nobile fra- 
 trum — in their walks and talks discussed all 
 the profoundest philosophers from Locke to 
 Browne, each acquiring by this intellectual 
 gladiatorship a power that subserved him in 
 after-life — the one as a lawyer and statesman, 
 the other as the peerless pulpit orator and de- 
 fender of the orthodox faith. 
 
 Mr. Hall's appearance was striking. He 
 
92 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 possessed an athletic and- well-proportioned 
 figure, e} T es of uncommon lustre, expressive of 
 sharp wit and lofty intellect, unassuming mod- 
 esty, winning frankness of manner, and an en- 
 thusiasm that readily kindled and communi- 
 cated its fire to others. As he grew older, the 
 forehead — a calm, majestic pile — was denuded 
 towards the crown, giving additional force and 
 dignity to the whole countenance. He had an 
 unconquerable aversion to having his likeness 
 taken ; but it was secured clandestinely while 
 preaching. His friends hung it in his study 
 over night, and watched the effect. In the 
 morniug he discovered it. Scrutinizing the 
 picture for a while, he placed his hand midway 
 over the face, and -said to himself — such is the 
 story — "The upper part, forehead and eyes, an- 
 gelic ; the lower, mouth and chin, Satanic." Dr. 
 Gregory says it was the most speaking counte- 
 nance he ever contemplated, animated by eyes 
 radiating with the brilliancy imparted to them 
 by benevolence, wit, and intellectual energy. 
 
 His manner in the pulpit was affected some- 
 what by the life-long malady which he endured. 
 Extreme pain in the back, diverging from the 
 spine over the nervous texture of the whole 
 body, made it necessary for him to use narcot- 
 
REV. ROBERT HALL. 93 
 
 ics, and to study for the most part in a recum- 
 bent posture. l£et this very malady may have 
 roused his intellectual energies to the highest 
 pitch, and given impulse to a mind which, under 
 ordinary circumstances, might not have reached 
 such a height of unequalled grandeur. Many 
 times he rose from the couch of pain to perform 
 the required duties of the pulpit, and his friends 
 could discern the suppressed agony as he strug- 
 gled on in the service. Hence at the begin- 
 ning he seemed to lack power. His voice was 
 feeble, requiring the utmost stillness in order 
 to catch the opening sentences. These were 
 generally simple, and interrupted by a spas- 
 modic cough, which to strangers augured dis- 
 appointment; but like the mettlesome steed 
 that prances a while and then rushes forward 
 with a bound, so the orator began soon to show 
 signs of a strong onward movement. His voice 
 gathered strength, lost its huskiness, rolled out 
 in augmented volume, while the "thoughts that 
 breathe and words that burn" came glowing 
 brighter and brighter, until every auditor was 
 chained and led captive by an almost super- 
 human eloquence. 
 
 "He could at pleasure," says his friend 
 and biographer, "adopt the unadorned, the 
 
94 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 ornamental, or the energetic, and indeed com- 
 bine them in every diversity of modulation. 
 In his higher flights, what he said of Burke 
 might, with the slightest deduction, be applied 
 to himself, that 'his imperial fancy laid all 
 nature under tribute, and collected riches from 
 every scene of the creation and every walk of 
 art ;' and at the same time that could be affirm- 
 ed of Mr. Hall which could not be affirmed of 
 Burke, that he never fatigued and oppressed 
 by gaudy and superfluous imagery. As he 
 advanced to his practical applications, all his 
 mental powers were shown in the most palpa- 
 ble but finely balanced exercise. His mind 
 would, if I may so speak, collect itself and 
 come forth with a luminous activity, proving 
 as he advanced how vast, and in some impor- 
 tant senses, how next to irresistible those pow- 
 ers were. In such seasons his preaching com- 
 municated universal animation. His congre- 
 gation would seem to partake of his spirit, to 
 think and feel as he did, to be fully influenced 
 by the presence of the objects which he set be- 
 fore them, fully actuated by the motives which 
 he had enforced with such energy and pathos. 
 "From the commencement of his discourse 
 an almost breathless silence prevailed, deeply 
 
REV. ROBERT HALL. 95 
 
 impressive and solemnizing from its singular 
 intenseness. Not a sound was heard but that 
 of the preacher's voice, scarcely an eye but 
 was fixed upon him, not a countenance that he 
 did not watch and read and interpret, as he 
 surveyed them again and again with his rapid, 
 ever-excursive glance. As he advanced and 
 increased in animation, five or six of the audi- 
 tors would be seen to rise and lean forward 
 over the front of their pews, still keeping their 
 eyes upon him. Some new or striking senti- 
 ment or expression would cause others to rise 
 in like manner ; shortly afterwards, still more ; 
 and so on, until, before the close of the ser- 
 mon, it often happened that a considerable 
 portion of the congregation were seen stand- 
 ing, every eye directed to the preacher, yet 
 now and then for a moment glancing from one 
 to another, thus transmitting and reciprocating 
 thought and feeling. Mr. Hall himself, con- 
 scious of the whole, received new animation, 
 reflecting it back upon those who were already 
 alive to the inspiration, until all that were sus- 
 ceptible of thought and emotion seemed wound 
 up to the utmost limit of elevation on earth, 
 when he would close and they reluctantly and 
 slowly resume their seats." 
 
96 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 Preaching on the text, " Dead in trespasses 
 and sins," so powerful were the concluding 
 appeals of the preacher, that Dr. Ryland, in 
 whose church he was officiating, rushed up the 
 pulpit stairs, and with tears trickling down his 
 cheeks, cried out, "Let all that are alive in 
 Jerusalem pray for the dead, that they may 
 live. 7 ' His manner of preparing his sermons 
 was peculiar. He seldom wrote them out. At 
 first, or in the early part of his ministry, about 
 a third was written, and the rest, under the 
 impulse of the occasion, flowed out extempora- 
 neously. Subsequently his notes were more 
 brief, and his sermons were distinguished by 
 greater simplicity and pathos. But he had the 
 rare talent of putting down in his memory 
 trains of thought and illustrations of varied 
 beauty and sublimity, so that what seemed to 
 be impromptu was the result of careful study 
 and meditation. He could think out the very 
 sentences and all the appropriate words, and 
 reproduce them at the given moment, so that 
 their correctness suggested previous writing, 
 and their natural and easy enunciation implied 
 the perfection of extemporaneous address. He 
 used to say that generally he premeditated the 
 order and the train of thought, which he called 
 
EEV. EOBEBT HALL. 07 
 
 cutting channels for the onflowing current, and 
 then trusted to the occasion for the appropri- 
 ate language. 
 
 It was with difficulty he could be induced 
 to give any of his sermons to the press. He 
 disliked the necessary revision. He had form- 
 ed to himself also so high a standard of style, 
 that his actual attainments, as compared with 
 his beau ideal, disgusted him. Through dint of 
 effort, those noble discourses which we have 
 were wrung out of him. That on practical 
 atheism — one of the sublimest compositions of 
 modern times— was kept on the tajois for weeks, 
 the author lying on his back and dictating a 
 few sentences at a time, altering and recon- 
 structing them, adding this and taking back 
 that, until, after the patience of publisher and 
 printer was well-nigh worn out, it reached the 
 long-desired finis. But it is worth a thousand 
 times more pains than were taken to obtain it. 
 "It places Hall's reputation," says Gregory-, 
 "upon an eminence which it will probably 
 retain as long as purity and elevation of style, 
 deeply philosophical views of the springs and 
 motives of action, and correct theological senti- 
 ments, are duly appreciated in the world." 
 The sermon entitled, "Sentiments Proper 
 
98 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 to the Present Crisis," preached to the Bristol 
 Guards during the threatened invasion of Na- 
 poleon, is regarded as unequalled for the elo- 
 quent peroration. The last ten pages were 
 thought by many, and by Mr. Pitt among the 
 number, to be fully equal, in genuine eloquence, 
 to any passage of the same length that can be 
 selected from either ancient or modern orators. 
 The discourse also on the death of the Princess 
 Charlotte is a beautiful tissue of philosophy 
 interwoven with religious sentiment, express- 
 ing in the most tender and touching style the 
 vanity impressed on the highest earthly sta- 
 tion, and the deep sympathy one feels in see- 
 ing "youth and beauty and regal expectations 
 all suddenly eclipsed in the darkness of death." 
 " In felicity of diction, in delicacy and pathos, 
 in the rich variety of the most instructive trains 
 of thought, in the masterly combination of what 
 in eloquence, philosophy, and religion was best 
 calculated to make a permanent and salutary 
 impression, this sermon probably stands un- 
 rivalled." 
 
 John Foster has considered Mr. Hall's 
 character as a preacher in a long article, writ- 
 ten with candor and with that critical acumen 
 for which the essayist was distinguished. While 
 
EEV. KOBEET HALL. 99 
 
 conceding his unparalleled powers as a pulpit 
 orator, he thinks nevertheless that Mr. Hall's 
 greatness lay in a complete and thorough in- 
 tellectuality, which, without regard to imme- 
 diate impression, seized the great points of his 
 subject, illustrated them in the most impressive 
 manner, and rising by gradations, closed in an 
 explosion of great and overwhelming thoughts. 
 Foster's objection was, that the orator, absorb- 
 ed in his subject, lost sight in some measure of 
 his hearers ; that the idea of direct conviction 
 was not as prominent as it should have been. 
 He admits, however, that at time.s Hall carried 
 the moral artillery into the business and bosoms 
 of his hearers, and that when he did so, no 
 preacher whom he ever heard had greater 
 power. He allows also that no man seemed 
 less to court admiration. His whole air and 
 manner suggested the oblivion of self. "The 
 preacher appeared wholly absorbed in his sub- 
 ject — given up to its possession as the single 
 actuating principle and impulse. What a con- 
 trast to divers showy and admired orators ! 
 For who has not witnessed a pulpit exhibition, 
 which unwittingly told that the speaker was to 
 be himself as prominent at the least as his 
 sacred theme? Who has not observed the 
 
100 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 glimmer of a self-complacent smile partly re- 
 flected, as it were, on his visage from the plau- 
 sive visages confronting him, and partly lighted 
 from within by the blandishment of a still warm- 
 er admirer ?" Mr. Hall's example was the re- 
 verse of all this. There was no studied adjust- 
 ment — nothing which seemed intended to at- 
 tract applause. "His most splendid passages 
 glistened or lasted for a moment, and were gone." 
 His death made a vacuum which it can 
 scarcely be expected will be filled. "The re- 
 moval," says Foster, "of any worthy minister, 
 while in full possession and activity of his pow- 
 ers, is a mournful occurrence ; but there is the 
 consideration that many such remain, and that 
 perhaps an equal may follow, where the es- 
 teemed instructor is withdrawn. But the feel- 
 ing in the present instance is of a loss alto- 
 gether irreparable. The cultivated portion of 
 the hearers have a sense of privation partaking 
 of desolateness. While ready to give due 
 honor to all valuable preachers, and knowing 
 that the lights of religious instruction will still 
 shine with useful lustre and new ones continu- 
 ally arise, they involuntarily and pensively 
 turn to look at the last fading colors in the 
 distance where the great luminary has set." 
 
DR. THOMAS CHALMERS. 101 
 
 DR. THOMAS CHALMERS. 
 
 • 
 
 While Kobert Hall was lighting up the 
 ecclesiastical firmament in England by the 
 blaze of his eloquence, another genius — differ- 
 ent, but not less illustrious — was scattering his 
 auroral illuminations upon the northern sky. 
 Thomas Chalmers had scarcely a peer among 
 Scotland's illustrious divines. He was in his 
 day the man of mark, exerting more influence 
 in the pulpit and in the professional chair than 
 any other individual. To have heard Chal- 
 mers preach was a thing to be talked of and 
 remembered. Strangers visiting Edinburgh 
 regarded this privilege as the culminating 
 point of interest. When he preached in Lon- 
 don there was no edifice large enough to ac- 
 commodate the multitudes, including dignita- 
 ries of the church, peers of the realm, and 
 every class and description of the populace. 
 Yet he himself was one of the most simple- 
 minded and modest of men. True greatness is 
 set off by these contrasts. The truth is, such 
 men as Chalmers and Hall seem to have in 
 
102 ELOQUENT PEEAOHEES. 
 
 their mental vision so vast, a boundary of possi- 
 ble attainments, that, like Newton, they regard 
 their acquisitions but as pebbles on the ocean- 
 strand of knowledge. 
 
 At»first, Chalmers attempted to unite the 
 philosopher with the minister. He was as 
 much concerned in his botanical excursions as 
 he was in developing the moral virtues of his 
 parishioners. But the grace of God touching 
 and transforming the inner man, the botany 
 and the philosophy were laid on the altar of 
 sacrifice, and henceforth he knew nothing 
 among men but the higher sphere of evangel- 
 ical truth. 
 
 The fame of such a man could not be re- 
 stricted to the little parish of Kilmany, which 
 was his first field of labor when a young man. 
 A delegation from Glasgow having caught the 
 rumor of his celebrity, and being in pursuit of 
 a candidate for the Tron church, went to Kil- 
 many to hear him. He preached that Sunday 
 from a plank extended out of the church win- 
 dow at Bendochy, as the crowd was too great 
 to be accommodated within the building. It 
 was a funeral sermon in behalf of his brave 
 comrade Rev. John Hovey, who had sacrificed 
 his own life in desperate efforts to save a ship- 
 
DK. THOMAS CHALMERS. 103 
 
 wrecked company. Chalmers' whole soul was 
 drawn out on the occasion, and the delegation 
 returned in raptures and reported accordingly. 
 Kilmany lost and Glasgow gained the greatest 
 of Scotland's pulpit orators. But Chalmers, 
 like many others who have been seduced from 
 the sweet retirement of rural life, was never 
 so happy amid the throng and pressure of ad- 
 miring crowds as when ministering to his hum- 
 ble Kilmany flock. n Many backward glances 
 cast he on that dearly loved field of his early 
 labors. 
 
 His popularity in Glasgow was so great as 
 to become not only exhausting, but at times 
 almost intolerable. It insulated him, in a great 
 measure, from his ministerial brethren. It 
 made exchange of pulpits next to impossible, 
 while at the same time it subjected him to con- 
 stant and vexatious interruptions. To use his 
 own simile, he was "like a man with his head 
 in the clouds and his feet on the shifting sands." 
 But such are the penalties of genius, and such 
 the trials of excessive popularity. 
 
 When Dr. Chalmers went to Glasgow he 
 was in the full vigor of his physical and intel- 
 lectual manhood. His appearance was strik- 
 ing, but unique. Strong built and very mus- 
 
104 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 cular, his forehead was broad and high, with 
 black hair carelessly overshadowing it. His 
 eyes were set far apart, with drooping upper 
 lids, and that portion of the nose which divided 
 them was unusually full. His eyebrows were 
 thick, and beneath them lay those indescriba- 
 ble orbs, which in repose possessed. a slum- 
 brous intelligence, but which, in the heated 
 march of mind, when the latent fires began to ' 
 glow, put on an overpowering brilliancy. "The 
 eyes themselves," says one taking a verbal 
 daguerreotype of him, "are light in color, and 
 have a strange, dreamy heaviness, which con- 
 veys any idea rather than that of dulness, but 
 which contrasts in a wonderful manner with 
 the dazzling watery glare they exhibit when 
 expanded in their sockets and illuminated into 
 all their flame and fervor in some moment of 
 high entranced enthusiasm. The upper lip, 
 from the nose downward, is separated by a 
 very deep line, which gives a sort of leonine 
 firmness of expression to all the lower part of 
 the face. The cheeks are square and strong'; 
 in texture, like pieces of marble." All this 
 strong, rugged aspect, however, grew softened 
 with age; and the portrait which the writer 
 secured in Glasgow, taken after he was sixty, 
 
DK. THOMAS CHALMEES. 105 
 
 has a sweet and touching pensiveness, com- 
 bined with a certain intellectual majesty, illus- 
 trative both of the greatness and goodness of 
 the original. His daughter, whom I visited at 
 "Morning Side," pronounced it an admirable 
 likeness. 
 
 In regard to Dr. Chalmers' manner of de- 
 livery, all unite in asserting that it would not 
 stand the test of oratorical criticism. If it was 
 forcible, it certainly was not graceful. It set 
 at defiance all the rules of the rhetorician. In 
 the beginning of his discourse the auditor was 
 disappointed. Indeed there was a feeling as 
 if the speaker would actually break down at 
 the outset. "His voice," says one, "is neither 
 strong nor melodious ; his gestures are neither 
 easy nor graceful ; his pronunciation is not 
 only broadly national, but broadly provincial. 
 But of a truth, these are things which no lis- 
 tener can attend to while this great preacher 
 stands before him armed with all the weapons 
 of the most commanding eloquence, and sway- 
 ing all around him with its imperial rule. At 
 first, indeed, there is nothing to make one sus- 
 pect what riches are in store. There is an 
 appearance of constraint about him that affects 
 and distresses you. You are afraid that his 
 
 5* 
 
106 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 breast is weak, and that even the slight exer- 
 tion he makes may be too much for it. But 
 then with what tenfold richness does this dim 
 preliminary curtain make the glories of his 
 eloquence shine forth when the heated spirit 
 at length shakes from its chill, confining fet- 
 ters, and bursts out, elate and rejoicing, in the 
 full splendor of its disimprisoned wings." 
 
 His visit to London in 1817 created an 
 excitement deeper and more general than had 
 been witnessed since the days of Whitefield. 
 His principal discourse on that occasion was 
 in behalf of the London Missionary Society, 
 delivered in Surry chapel. The audience was 
 immense and of the most intelligent class. 
 Expectations were high. The fame of this 
 great pulpit orator had preceded him. Old 
 Rowland Hill stood up before the pulpit, with 
 his hands resting on the top of the pew, and 
 his eye fixed on the preacher. As usual, the 
 first efforts were awkward, the voice feeble, 
 the accent broadly Scotch, and the whole 
 aspect of things disheartening. The cold sweat 
 stood on Hill's face. "It is a failure," said he 
 to himself. But in a few moments the pon- 
 derous machinery began to move with more 
 regularity and greater speed. Sentence after 
 
DB. THOMAS CHALMEKS. 107 
 
 sentence rolled forth in that majestic strain 
 peculiar to Chalmers. Old Rowland's eyes 
 began to glisten. The anxiety passed from 
 his brow. Soon his whole soul was collected 
 in his face as he watched the onward march 
 of that gigantic intellect. By and by one of 
 those corruscations of genius, so peculiar to 
 the speaker, was thrown off, which set the 
 whole audience in a blaze, and Hill, no lon- 
 ger able to contain himself, brought his two 
 hands down upon the rail, exclaiming in audi- 
 ble tones, "Well done, Chalmers!" 
 
 "I write," says one describing the scene, 
 "under the nervousness of having heard and 
 witnessed the most astonishing display of hu- 
 man talent that perhaps ever commanded sight 
 or hearing. Dr. Chalmers has just finished his 
 discourse before the Missionary Society. All 
 my expectations were overwhelmed in the tri- 
 umph of it." "All the world," writes Wilber- 
 force, "is wild about Chalmers. Vast crowds 
 of the nobility attend. I was surprised to see 
 how greatly Canning was affected. At times 
 he was quite melted into tears. He is report- 
 ed to have said, that although at first he felt 
 uneasy in consequence of Dr. Chalmers' man- 
 ner and accent, yet that he had never been so 
 
108 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 arrested by any oratory. 'The Tartan/ said 
 he, ' beats us all.' " 
 
 How are we to account for such an over- 
 whelming effect in view of the impediments 
 alluded to ? There must have been an inde- 
 scribable charm somewhere — a magnetic influ- 
 ence in the spirit of the man, that impregnated 
 those lofty and long-drawn sentences with a 
 life and power that swayed all hearts and led 
 captive all intellects. There was a correspond- 
 ence between his peculiar style of writing and 
 the fervid oratory through which it flowed 
 out upon the audience. The writing was not 
 less unique than the delivery. Who would 
 undertake to read Chalmers' sermons from the 
 pulpit? Who has chest enough and breath 
 enough to give full force to thoughts that roll 
 out by dependent sentences until they stretch, 
 ere they reach a period, over an entire printed 
 page ? He struck out a new. path for his great 
 genius to travel in. All classical models are 
 set at defiance. His ideas, which were grand 
 •and glowing, could not be cramped by ordi- 
 nary rhetorical rules. So he took that style 
 which gave scope to them. The majestic march 
 of his periods is truly wonderful. There is a 
 sort of poetical rhythm about them. One is 
 
DK. THOMAS CHALMEKS. 109 
 
 fascinated and allured on, as if traversing a 
 flowery and fragrant road that leads to some 
 high castellated tower or luminous mountain 
 summit, where the prospect is both varied and 
 boundless. We give ourselves up to the mag- 
 ical power of his eloquent diction. We take 
 hold of the golden chain which he offers us, 
 and which develops link after link, until it 
 binds the intellect and the imagination in a 
 willing bondage. There is no writer who 
 seizes you with a firmer hand, or holds you 
 more spell-bound, until he fixes in your mind 
 the ideas which he is illustrating. Generally 
 there is unity in the thought, but endless vari- 
 ety in the illustrations. He carries out the 
 principle that a sermon should have one grand 
 culminating point; and that every thing said, 
 every process of reasoning employed, every 
 figure used, should tend to develop and give 
 force to this ruling idea. He has been found 
 fault with for ringing so many changes upon 
 one thought. Some have compared it to a 
 door swinging on its hinges, complaining that 
 there was not enough onward movement. Oth- 
 ers have compared his sermons to a kaleido- 
 scope, where the same materials, by a turn of 
 the instrument, exhibit new and beautiful com- 
 
110 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 binations. But it is useless to criticize, when 
 it is known and conceded that no pulpit orator 
 had greater sway over intelligent minds than 
 Thomas Chalmers. In regard to style and 
 oratory, he called no man master. Both his 
 thoughts and the mode of giving them utter- 
 ance are his own. They are simply Chal- 
 merian. 
 
 His sermons and discourses, as merely 
 read, carry one along in a feeling of ecstatic 
 pleasure, prompting the expression occasion- 
 ally, "How splendid!" What then must it 
 have been to sit and listen to the author, when, 
 under a full appreciation of the sentiments, he 
 poured forth in glowing periods the high and 
 holy thoughts, until the whole audience-cham- 
 ber was lighted up as with a sort of intellect- 
 ual conflagration. "Of all human composi- 
 tions," says one, "there is none surely that 
 loses so much as a sermon does when it is 
 made to address itself to the eye of a solitary 
 student in his closet, and not to the thrilling 
 ears of a mighty mingled congregation through 
 the very voice which nature has enriched with 
 notes more expressive than words can ever 
 be, of the meanings and feelings of its author. 
 Neither perhaps did the world ever possess 
 
DE. THOMAS CHALMEES. Ill 
 
 any orator whose minutest jflculiarities of ges- 
 ture and voice have more power in increasing 
 the effect of what he says, than do those of Dr. 
 Chalmers. Most unquestionably" I have never 
 heard either in England or Scotland, or in any 
 other country, any preacher whose eloquence 
 is capable of producing an effect so strong and 
 irresistible as his." 
 
 As this sketch is designed to present Dr. 
 Chalmers simply as an eloquent preacher, we 
 refrain from the consideration of his practical 
 philanthropy. His heart was as full of good- 
 ness as was his intellect of greatness ; and 
 Scotland might with as much propriety erect 
 a monument for him as for the great novelist. 
 But Chalmers needs "no storied urn nor ani- 
 mated bust" to perpetuate his memory. He 
 will live in the hearts of the good and great so 
 long as time shall last ; and when time shall be 
 no more, his name will be found emblazoned 
 on the records of immortality. 
 
112 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 REV. HENRY MELVILL, LONDON. 
 
 Melvill, without doubt, stands preeminent 
 as an evangelical preacher. His celebrity has 
 a firm basis, not likely to be undermined by 
 the shifting opinions and prejudices of the 
 populace.. The physical man may and must 
 succumb to the increasing infirmities of age, 
 but as yet, though apparently near seventy, 
 he seems to possess all the animation and 
 vigor of his earlier ministry. His fame has 
 gone forth on the. four winds, and everywhere, 
 even in distant countries, he is spoken of as a 
 noble representative of the evangelical portion 
 of the English national church. Those who 
 have not heard him have access to his pub- 
 lished sermons, and we in America owe a debt 
 of gratitude to Bishop Mcllvaine for the reprint 
 of a most interesting collection of his discourses 
 on the various topics of Christian duty and 
 doctrine. In the printed page he appears 
 great, and the impress of sanctified genius 
 glows in every sentence, and makes his writ- 
 ings the delight of all whose hearts are in sym- 
 pathy with God's truth. But there is nothing 
 
EEV. HENEY MELVILL. 113 
 
 like the oral annunciation — the truth as it falls 
 from lips touched with hallowed fire. To feel 
 the full force of his sentiments, one must seat 
 himself under this great master of eloquent 
 utterances, and allow him unresisted sway 
 over the imagination, the intellect, and the 
 heart. 
 
 When I came to sit under Melvill, all my 
 preconceived notions of the truly eloquent 
 preacher found a realization in his simple, for- 
 cible, and natural mode of writing and speaking. 
 His style is admirably adapted to convey, 
 clearly and forcibly, gospel truth. It has not 
 the magnificent drapery of Chalmers, nor the 
 measured inarch of Massillon's periods. It 
 partakes of the virtues of both, without the 
 faults of either. It is pure Saxon baptized in 
 a classical font, having the strength of the 
 Greek and the beauty of the Roman. 
 
 As a lecturer in St. Margaret's, an oppor- 
 tunity was enjoyed almost every week of 
 hearing him on Tuesday at eleven o'clock. 
 Availing myself of this information, I proceed- 
 ed at the appointed hour to the place of wor- 
 ship. This lecture is an institution of long- 
 standing, and is accompanied with lucrative 
 perquisites. The position of the church, in the 
 
114 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 very focus of commercial life, under almost 
 the shadow of the Bank of England, and sur- 
 rounded by merchants and money-changers, 
 offers to the sons of traffic an opportunity to 
 let the treasure from heaven break in upon 
 their visions of earthly gain. And many of 
 them avail themselves of the privilege. Leav- 
 ing for an hour their offices and accounts cur- 
 rent, they hasten, at the tolling of the bell, to 
 recreate their higher nature under the elo- 
 quent droppings of the sanctuary. 
 
 Passing on with the crowd, I found a sea,t 
 in the old-fashioned church, and cast my eyes 
 about to see the audience, and to search for 
 him especially whose presence was the attrac- 
 tive centre. The congregation was highly 
 respectable, composed more of men than of 
 women, and having a very serious as well as 
 intelligent look. In the desk was stationed a 
 gowned official, who promptly began the ser- 
 vice. Was this Melvill? It could not be. 
 He was too young. His reading was bad. 
 His whole air was that of a very common 
 man. Was I to be disappointed? It could 
 hardly be, methought, as I saw this crowd 
 evidently under the excitement of high expec- 
 tation. In the chancel, as it is called, I ob- 
 
BEV. HENRY MELVILL. 115 
 
 served a 'fine, venerable figure, with prayer- 
 book in hand, uttering loudly but solemnly 
 the responses. That man, thought I, person- 
 ates my previous idea of the great preacher. 
 He seemed about sixty-five. His hair was 
 quite gray, almost white. His features might 
 be called coarse. But this was more in the 
 shape than in the expression, which was that 
 of a man of high culture and disciplined pas- 
 sions. If nature had given his countenance a 
 somewhat coarse mould, grace had softened 
 every feature into a subdued and attractive 
 gentleness. His eyes were not bright nor 
 very expressive in repose, and the lids droop- 
 ing over them gave a pensive expression, which 
 rather interested you. 
 
 When the reader had concluded, and the 
 hymn had been sung, this venerable man 
 ascended the sacred desk, and assumed the 
 attitude of devotion. I knew then that I was 
 not to be disappointed. Melvill it was whom 
 I had heard uttering the responses. Stillness 
 reigned, deep, unbroken, with every eye turn- 
 ed to one spot. Speaker and auditor felt the 
 heart beat more quickly, and that silence was 
 premonitory of the thunder peals that were 
 soon to break upon us. 
 
116 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 He began by saying that as this was the 
 last public service which he should render for 
 several weeks to come, and that in the myste- 
 rious movements of Providence, it was possible 
 that neither he nor they might meet again in 
 the relation of preacher and hearer, he had 
 been casting about for a text which should be 
 the foundation of a pertinent valedictory, and 
 which should embrace some one of the great 
 truths on which our salvation depends. He 
 had selected the following: "So then they 
 that are in the flesh cannot please God." 
 
 After a brief introduction, striking but 
 simple, he went on to illustrate the great prin- 
 ciple contained in the passage— that without 
 regeneration, wrought in the heart by the 
 Holy Ghost, nothing, in the way of professed 
 obedience, could be acceptable to God. This 
 he did, first by conceding to the unrenewed 
 man all the amiable, patriotic, and philan- 
 thropic traits which were claimed for him. 
 It was done in a masterly manner, developing 
 a deep knowledge of human nature. Then as 
 he proceeded to bring up this assumed excel- 
 lence and measure it by the requirements of 
 the law and the gospel, how keen and search- 
 ing was his analysis. Not only was every eye 
 
EEV. HENKY MELVILL. 117 
 
 fixed, but every heart began to palpitate. We 
 felt as if lie were marching us up to the judg- 
 ment bar. Those covered orbs began to show 
 themselves: the curtains began to lift, and a 
 fire to flash out upon us, while the deep tones 
 of his voice rang, trumpet-like, throughout the 
 house. His sentences were sometimes short 
 and terribly sharp. There was a great con- 
 densation. It came like quick claps of thun- 
 der. We were more than awe-struck. In 
 some parts we were ready to exclaim, Hold — 
 enough. But as he drew towards the close, 
 the storm seemed to subside, and the bow of 
 mercy spanned the dark, retiring cloud. Lift- 
 ing those eyes and hands towards heaven, in 
 a tender and tremulous voice, he cried, " Oh, 
 holy and blessed Spirit, come from thy throne 
 of light and love, and soften and subdue and 
 transform these souls of ours, taking away the 
 heart of stone, and giving us the heart of 
 flesh." 
 
 From this specimen I was satisfied that the 
 reputation of Melvill had not been overstated. 
 He must take rank with the foremost of his 
 profession. His delivery is rapid, yet distinct. 
 He makes few or no gestures. He just puts 
 his soul into the discourse, and goes on with a 
 
118 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 progressive earnestness and animation that 
 electrifies the whole assembly. What a bless- 
 ing it is to the Established church to have 
 prominent among her ministry a man of so 
 much taste, intellect, and piety — a man who 
 unites apparently much of the zeal of Paul, 
 with the eloquence of an Apollos. 
 
 The discourse which I heard was, I have 
 no doubt, one of his best, and was delivered 
 in his best manner. The circumstance of its 
 being the last of the season, the apparent care 
 with which it had been composed, the deep 
 feeling under which he gave it utterance, all 
 conspired to render it such. But it is said 
 that all these lectures are prepared with great 
 labor, and as they are immediately given to 
 the general public through the press, the 
 author takes care that they shall be as perfect 
 as it is in his power to make them. No min- 
 ister in Great Britain exerts, through the pul- 
 pit and the press, a wider and more evangeli- 
 cal influence than the lecturer of St. Margaret's. 
 We shall hold in grateful remembrance the 
 occasion above alluded to, and the opportunity 
 of listening to this unsurpassed pulpit orator. 
 
REV. ROWLAND HILL. 119 
 
 REV. ROWLAND HILL. 
 
 The name of Rowland Hill is almost as 
 well known and as wide spread as that of 
 George Whitefield. The latter, like the Apoc- 
 alyptic angel, flew on strong wing from conti- 
 nent to continent, while Hill confined his labors 
 to the land of his birth. Within that sphere, 
 however, no minister acquired and maintained 
 a greater sway over the popular mind. He 
 was heard by the common people gladly. And 
 yet it was not an unusual sight to see the star 
 and the ribbon glittering among the plainly 
 clad auditors of Surrey Chapel. 
 
 Had Rowland Hill sprung from the ple- 
 beian ranks, instead of being connected with 
 aristocratic circles, it may be questionable 
 whether his fame would have stood out in such 
 bold relief. It was owing in part to the fact 
 that his father was a baronet of high standing, 
 while several of his relations occupied honora- 
 ble positions in civil and military life, that he, 
 the clerical member of the family, took a higher 
 and more conspicuous stand than if no such 
 collateral advantages had existed. He pos- 
 
120 ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 sessed too an ample fortune, which raised 
 him to an independent position, and enabled 
 him to enjoy the blessedness of giving more 
 than he received. But aside from all this, 
 Rowland Hill was a man of genius, a minister 
 of the apostolical stamp, and an orator wdio 
 could sway an audience almost as the wind 
 sways the bending reed. 
 
 He entered the ministry in early life ; and 
 his first efforts at preaching, made in the neigh- 
 borhood of his own home, gave such promise 
 as led his father to acquiesce in the decision 
 which young Hill had made, to devote his life 
 to the great work of preaching the gospel. 
 
 He was a tall, straight, noble-looking young 
 man. His features were Wellingtonian, so to 
 speak, having a prominent Roman nose, and a 
 small but speaking eye. "His countenance," 
 says one, "was expressive of the complexion 
 of his mind ; and the play upon his lips and the 
 piercing look of his small gray eyes denoted 
 both intelligence and humor. When between 
 fifty and sixty years of age, his fine, upright 
 figure, combined with a high-bred, gentleman- 
 like deportment, caused him to be the subject 
 of general admiration." 
 
 His voice had great compass, and he could 
 
BEV. EOWLAND HILL. 121 
 
 vary its volume or expression to suit the sen- 
 timent. He was a man of strong, but well- 
 regulated passions, easily and deeply excited ; 
 and when the topic justified their develop- 
 ment, as when he delivered the terrors of the 
 law, it seemed almost as if he was bran- 
 dishing the thunderbolts of heaven. Yet no 
 man had less severity in his heart, whatever 
 apparent severity there might occasionally 
 have been in his manner. His sensibilities 
 were almost as tender as those of woman, and 
 "his eyes more frequently wept than flashed, 
 and his tones were oftener subduing than start- 
 ling. In fact, the love of Christ was the theme 
 upon which he loved most and longest to dwell. 
 He led his auditors oftener to Calvary than to 
 Sinai ; and the pictures of softest and tenclerest 
 beauty which he drew, were those in which 
 the cross was the central figure. 
 
 Rowland Hill was a connecting link between 
 the era of Whitefield's power and that of Hall 
 and Chalmers, having in his younger years sat 
 at the feet of the former, and in his old age 
 looked with admiring wonder on the two great 
 pulpit orators of England and of Scotland; 
 but his own style and manner were modelled 
 after Whitefield's. The mantle of Whitefield 
 
 Eloqueut Preachers. (> 
 
122 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 seemed in fact to have fallen more upon Hill 
 than upon any other man. To him Whitefield 
 was the imaginative type of all ministerial ex- 
 cellence, and he strained every nerve to get 
 as near to his eloquent standard as possible. 
 Some traits he had which reminded the hear- 
 ers of Whitefield ; His voice, so strong and 
 varied ; the power of illustration, so pertinent 
 and striking; the apt manner of seizing on 
 passing events and circumstances, and weav- 
 ing them at once into his discourse ; his entire 
 consecration, together with his intense love of 
 souls, and his almost superhuman labors for 
 their conversion ; his deep feeling, choking his 
 utterance and filling his eyes with tears ; his 
 bursts of sublime eloquence, carrying the audi- 
 ence away as with a tempest: all these fea- 
 tures of the man and of the orator justified the 
 popular decision that he, more than any minis- 
 ter, had a right to the mantle of the departed 
 Whitefield. 
 
 Eowland Hill has been censured for indulg- 
 ing in the pulpit his propensity for humor. 
 Nature had endowed him with this faculty in 
 a high degree. It was almost impossible not 
 to allow it some influence ; and it may be ques- 
 tionable whether, under a reasonable restraint, 
 
EEV. ROWLAND HILL. 123 
 
 it be not an important element in pulpit elo- 
 quence. Certain it is that it tends to awaken 
 an interest in a class of hearers who might oth- 
 erwise remain listless, and to catch the atten- 
 tion when, under the constant pressure of sol- 
 emn truths, it might seek for relief from other 
 and worldly associations. Says one, "He had 
 naturally a keen sense of the ludicrous, which 
 seemed at times to spread its influence over 
 the entire surface of his mind. Like a vapory 
 cloud floating across the face of a luminary of 
 the heavens, some comic idea would dim for an 
 instant the lustre of his higher conceptions; 
 but on its passing away suddenly, his imagina- 
 tion shone forth in all its splendor, and gener- 
 ally led him into the opposite expressions of 
 pathos and sublimity." 
 
 Rowland Hill's sermons were almost en- 
 tirely extemporaneous. Having chosen his 
 text with a view to set in a forcible light some 
 great doctrinal or practical truth, he had the 
 faculty of arranging with wonderful rapidity 
 the divisions and illustrations of the discourse. 
 This he could do at a moment's warning. In 
 fact, some of his happiest efforts and his most 
 powerful discourses were from texts selected 
 in the pulpit or suggested by some unexpected 
 
124 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 circumstance. On such occasions his arrange- 
 ment of thought was as quick as his utterance 
 was ready. He depended on the presence of 
 an audience to fire up his own soul, and to cre- 
 ate that electrical sympathy which is so essen- 1 
 tial to the power and success of an orator. He 
 held that men wanted rousing and exciting to 
 the performance of duties which they acknow- 
 ledged obligatory — that there was more need 
 of earnest appeal than of calm instruction ; and 
 so he filled his quiver with shafts, whose burn- 
 ing tips he sent with a strong arm against the 
 panoplied bosoms of the impenitent. 
 
 Another feature of his eloquence was, that 
 it was all natural — the warm outpourings of 
 unsophisticated feeling. Says his biographer, 
 1 ' The great secret perhaps of the amazing effect 
 of his preaching was its being all nature. He 
 generally chose the subject which impressed 
 and affected his own mind, and discoursed on 
 it as he felt, not as he had previously thought; 
 and thus, on every occasion, whether joyous or 
 grievous, he found his way to hearts whose 
 strings vibrated in unison with those of his 
 own. Sheridan used to say of him, ' I go to 
 hear Rowland Hill, because his ideas come 
 red-hot from the heart.' " 
 
KEV. ROWLAND HILL. 125 
 
 But there was still another trait as promi- 
 nent as his naturalness — his boldness. Every 
 listener was struck with it. He neither courted 
 the favor nor feared the opposition of men. 
 He could preach with calm composure under 
 the threatenings of bigoted ecclesiastics or the 
 terrible mutterings of mob violence. If roy- 
 alty itself had mingled among his hearers, he 
 would not have deviated from the strict line 
 of evangelical truth. Describing the different 
 styles of preachers, among others he speaks 
 of the bold manner; that is, "the man who 
 preaches what he feels, without fear or diffi- 
 dence." To no minister would this more em- 
 phatically apply than to himself. 
 
 True it is, Mr. Hill's social position and 
 his large fortune raising him above the temp- 
 tation to secure by conciliation the favor of any 
 class of hearers, made the exercise of this vir- 
 tue perhaps less self-denying than if he had 
 .drawn his support from titled patrons or from 
 voluntary contributions. Still, we must admire 
 the heroic stand which he took and maintained 
 when, to preach the great truths of the gospel, 
 as he habitually did, in open fields and in 
 unsteepled chapels, rendered him the object 
 of sneers in high life, and sometimes of per- 
 
126 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 sonal abuse by the mob. But lie outlived all 
 this ; and the clouds which gathered portentous 
 over his early ministry, and which settled so 
 black occasionally on his mid-day career, after 
 having discharged their harmless thunders, 
 passed away, leaving his evening days all 
 luminous with a full-orbed reputation. After 
 a long and eventful life, nearly the whole of 
 which was devoted to preaching Christ and 
 winning souls to his cross, he sunk gradually 
 under the weight of almost fivescore years, 
 leaving behind him a character as remarkable 
 for unsullied purity as it was for matchless 
 eloquence and for practical benevolence. 
 
REV. LEGH RICHMOND. 127 
 
 REV. LEGH RICHMOND. 
 
 Lege Richmond's name and fame are as- 
 sociated with a precious volume entitled, " An- 
 nals of the Poor." "The Dairyman's Daugh- 
 ter " and " The Young Cottager " are portraits 
 of such moral beauty as to attract all Chris- 
 tian hearts, and place them under obligations 
 to the celebrated limner. He has combined 
 in these sketches both the skill and enthusiasm 
 of the true artist. Every thing is so simple, 
 so fresh, so beautiful. Elizabeth Wallbridge 
 calls out the young pastor of Brading, and 
 from her lonely cot, teaches him how to min- 
 ister to the poor of Christ's flock. She asks 
 him to accompany her on her brightening path, 
 and bids him an affectionate farewell at the 
 gate of death. Little Jane, "the Young Cot- 
 tager," with the sweetest modesty sits at his 
 feet, learns the way to heaven, and then walks 
 on to its golden gates, which she soon reaches ; 
 when, throwing her arms about Mr. Richmond's 
 neck, she bids him farewell, and expires on 
 his bosom. 
 
 Here he took his first lesson in the divine 
 
128 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 and holy work of feeding the lambs of Christ's 
 flock, watching their heavenward progress, and 
 smoothing the rough pathway, until they were 
 safe in the arms of " the good Shepherd." 
 
 These scenes transpired in the Isle of 
 Wight, that gem in the diadem of England's 
 landscape beauties. Richmond's young genius 
 nestled and was nurtured in this island, where 
 the ocean lay all around in its magnificence, 
 and the hills and valleys, by nature beautiful, 
 were by the hand of skill and culture convert- 
 ed into an almost earthly paradise. As the 
 writer has traversed this ground, and stood in 
 its sacred places, he is prepared to endorse the 
 faithful transcript of natural beauties so vividly 
 described by the pastor of Brading. 
 
 When Legh Richmond's genius was fully 
 fledged, it took a wider sphere and soared to 
 a loftier height. As the minister of Turvey, 
 where for a quarter of a century he labored, 
 he achieved an influence which was felt for 
 good, not only in his own parochial sphere, 
 but throughout the kingdom, and even far and 
 wide over all Christendom. We propose to 
 look at him on the more general field, where 
 his peculiar talents as a popular preacher were 
 called into requisition. 
 
BEV. LEGH KICHMOND. 129 
 
 It was something ae^i in his day to find a 
 minister of the Established church breaking 
 away from the rigid custom of a cool and care- 
 ful reading of sermons to the free and fervid 
 extemporaneous style of preaching. Rich- 
 mond began to try his wings in this way in 
 the little church of Yaverland, of which he 
 had the oversight. His first effort was a fail- 
 ure ; but trying again, he succeeded, and ever 
 after he gave free scope to his noble faculties, 
 unfettered by even paper bonds. 
 
 His talents were well adapted to this mode 
 of preaching. He had an easy fluency, a fine 
 voice, and a vivid fancy. He seized upon 
 truth with a strong grasp, and held it up in a 
 clear, convincing light. After his soul had 
 really tasted of the water of life, which, ac- 
 cording to his own account, took place subse- 
 quent to his ordination, he seemed to live and 
 move in an atmosphere almost as bright and 
 beaming as that in which angels dwell. 
 
 His preaching was in a high degree scrip- 
 tural. It found its impulse and its aliment in 
 the living word; and so familiar had he be- 
 come with the truths of the gospel, that every 
 sermon seemed to combine the essentials of 
 salvation. Still his sermons were not a mo- 
 
 6* 
 
130 ELOQUENT PBEACHEES. 
 
 notonous chain of texts, but were more like 
 the tissue of a regal robe, through which run, 
 in graceful patterns, the threads of silver and 
 of gold. 
 
 His rich fancy gave a coloring of beauty to 
 his style, and made it as attractive as it was 
 instructive. This faculty, apart from a deep 
 religious sensibility, is of doubtful utility when 
 employed in the illustration of gospel truth. 
 It may run into mere word pictures, and the 
 pictures so drawn, while they enhance the 
 reputation of the preacher, may not convey 
 much real benefit to the hearer ; but when, as 
 in this gase, the fancy is under the control of 
 deep religious feeling — when this feeling so 
 blends itself with the picture as to impart a 
 natural warmth, it may become a most power- 
 ful means of awakening the attention and mov- 
 ing the heart. 
 
 That Mr. Eichmond possessed both fancy 
 and deep religious sensibility, all those who 
 were privileged to hear him readily admit. 
 Said one, and he a minister, "As a public 
 speaker he possessed a felicity of idea and ex- 
 pression peculiar to himself. His thoughts 
 were natural and simple. They seemed to 
 flow without effort, and to be the spontaneous 
 
EEV. LEGH RICHMOND. 131 
 
 production of his mind ; but his rich imagina- 
 tion clothed them in a form that resembled the 
 varied tints, the brilliant glow, and the har- 
 monious coloring of the rainbow. His images 
 were frequently borrowed from the scenes of 
 nature, which were made to illustrate some 
 instructive and spiritual truth. The lofty 
 mountain and the verdant vale, the tranquil 
 rivulet, or the broad expanse of the ocean, 
 all became tributary, and supplied materials 
 to his creative fancy. He could affect the 
 heart by touches the most natural and by ap- 
 peals the most pathetic." 
 
 Speaking of his death, this writer remarks, 
 "Thousands and tens of thousands who have 
 hung with admiration, affection, and interest 
 on his eloquent addresses from the pulpit and 
 the platform will unite in the sentiment that a 
 great man has fallen. The sermons of Legh 
 Richmond were characterized not only by a 
 depth of piety and a sound orthodoxy, but 
 likewise by the most pathetic and affectionate 
 appeals to his auditors on the subject of per- 
 sonal religion. His addresses in behalf of re-, 
 ligious societies were marked by extraordi- 
 nary powers of description, by a pathos which 
 deeply interested and affected his audience, 
 
132 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 and by an eloquence peculiar to himself, which 
 must have been witnessed to be duly appreci- 
 ated." 
 
 It was Mr. Eichmond's custom to make 
 excursions over the kingdom, preaching and 
 collecting for the benevolent associations then 
 just springing into existence, whose origin and 
 influence were closely connected with the 
 Christian genius of this good man. The Brit- 
 ish and Foreign Bible Society, the Eeligious 
 Tract Society, the Society for Evangelizing the 
 Jews, the Church Missionary Society, and 
 other kindred institutions were organized in 
 his day, and with his most cordial and efficient 
 cooperation, while his powerful and persuasive 
 eloquence did much to give them impulse, and 
 to establish them firmly in the hearts of his 
 countrymen. 
 
 As the advocate of these mighty engines 
 of moral good, he went forth to almost every 
 city in the kingdom ; by his impassioned elo- 
 quence not only attracting thousands to listen, 
 but inducing them to become coworkers in the 
 good cause. 
 
 Previous to entering upon these discursive 
 labors he always procured a faithful curate to 
 attend to the parish duties at Turvey, in the 
 
EEV. LEGH KICHMOND. 133 
 
 same manner as he himself had done, thus 
 securing to his flock their accustomed privi- 
 leges while h& was gathering materials for 
 building the temple of salvation on a world- 
 wide basis. 
 
 These journies led him into scenes of the 
 sublime and beautiful, where his deep love of 
 nature and his intensely poetical imagination 
 found free scope and gathered rich stores for 
 the future use of the preacher. He was like 
 a merchantman seeking goodly pearls — filling 
 his cabinet with them ; and when the occasion 
 occurred, he would give them a setting in some 
 beautiful argument or some pathetic appeal. 
 
 Writing from the English lakes, and speak- 
 ing of the effect of the scenery upon his imag- 
 ination and feelings, he remarks, "The ex- 
 quisite beauty and sublimity of this country 
 almost makes a pen move of itself. Never 
 did I pass so beautiful a clay as this at the 
 lakes. I shall sing the praises of October as 
 the loveliest of months. This morning at six 
 o'clock I was walking on the banks of Winder- 
 mere to catch a sunrise. I had every thing I 
 could wish, and observed the progress of the 
 day with delight. The mysterious rolling of 
 the clouds across the hills announced the first 
 
134 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 influence of the sun. Tints the most beauteous 
 skirted the eastern clouds, Those on the west 
 caught them as b} T sympathy. Various patches 
 of mountains soon gleamed with the reflection 
 of the yet unseen luminary; and such innu- 
 merable vicissitudes of light and shade and 
 close obscurity filled the scene as no tongue 
 can describe. The lake in all its length of 
 thirteen miles lay beneath me, with its thirty 
 islands. I heard the early lowing of the cows, 
 the bleating of the sheep, the neighing of the 
 horse, the twittering of the. birds, the rustling 
 of the breeze, the rippling of the water, and 
 dashing of the oar in a gentle kind of har- 
 mony. The sun advanced and threw a blaze 
 of magnificent lustre over this paradisiacal 
 landscape." 
 
 Again, still among the lakes, he writes, 
 "This morning as I stood on an eminence 
 looking down on the exquisitely lovely lake of 
 Grasmere, environed by its amphitheatre of 
 mountains, a momentary shower produced a 
 rainbow. It extended from hill to hill over 
 the valley,, and seemed like a bridge for angels 
 to pass over from one district of paradise to 
 another. 
 
REV. LEGH RICHMOND. 135 
 
 " ' And as they pass let angels sing 
 The wonders of creation's King ; 
 And while they tune then- harps to praise, 
 I '11 gladly catch their solemn lays ; 
 Unite with them my feeble tongue, 
 And give to gratitude my song.' " 
 
 From these extracts we gain some slight 
 impression of the spirit of the man. His heart 
 was alive to every thing fair and beautiful. 
 Music, especially sacred, was his delight. He 
 cultivated it as a science, and enjoyed it with 
 the ardor of an enthusiast. But his greatest 
 pleasure, next to direct communion with God 
 and his word, was communion with God's glo- 
 rious works. He viewed them not merely with 
 the eye of a poet, but with the gratitude of a 
 Christian. The poetical idea was intensified 
 by the devotional ; and so, when he came to 
 speak on the great themes of redemption, the 
 sanctified imagery, gathered from the varied 
 beauties of external nature, came gracefully 
 forward to give force and attractiveness to his 
 discourses. They glowed with the twofold 
 light of a blended harmony between what 
 nature imparts and what the Scriptures reveal. 
 
 He was ever in search of some new and 
 rare prospect, and would be found sometimes 
 
136 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 by the deep sea, gazing on its expanse, or on 
 the mountain top, looking over the intervening 
 landscape, or climbing some high tower, and 
 with glass in hand, gathering in his eye the 
 boundless amphitheatre of beauties. 
 
 An interesting incident occurred to Mr. 
 Richmond on one of these occasions. He had 
 ascended a lofty tower in the dockyard at 
 Portsmouth, and from its summit was viewing 
 through a telescope the surrounding objects, 
 when his imperial majesty the Emperor Alex- 
 ander of Russia and suite unexpectedly enter- 
 ed. Mr. Richmond offered to withdraw, but 
 the emperor would not consent, saying, "Per- 
 haps, sir, you are acquainted with the points of 
 view before us." Mr. Richmond assured him 
 he well knew every spot in the neighborhood, 
 and drawing out his telescope, directed the 
 eye of the emperor to the different objects 
 worthy of notice. After a long and interest- 
 ing conversation with his majest} 7- , Mr. Rich- 
 mond took occasion to thank him for the inter- 
 est he had taken in the Bible cause in Russia, 
 when the emperor obligingly remarked, "Sir, 
 my thanks are rather due to your country, 
 and the friends of the cause ; for had it not 
 been for your example, we should have had no 
 
BEV. LEGH KICHMOND. 137 
 
 Bible Society in Russia." Mr. Richmond, 
 having subsequently sent a copy of his "An- 
 nals of the Poor " to the emperor, received a 
 very kind note of recognition, accompanied by 
 the present of a diamond ring. 
 
 Like most extemporaneous preachers, Legh 
 Richmond has left behind him but few speci- 
 mens — only three, it is said — of his eloquence 
 in the form of printed sermons ; and the prin- 
 cipal one of these, preached in 1809 before the 
 Church Missionary Society, though excellent 
 in spirit, and forcible in its closing appeals, 
 can, we think, scarcely represent his power as 
 a pulpit orator. 
 
 It was when inspired by his great theme 
 in presence of a large and attentive audience 
 that his genius as a preacher broke forth upon 
 his admiring listeners. Then the eye kindled 
 and the voice became an expressive vehicle of 
 thought. The soul on fire sent its burning 
 fervor into the intellect, setting the imagina- 
 tion in a glow, and thence into the very words ; 
 and so kindling from speaker to hearer, the 
 whole audience-chamber became radiant with 
 the excitement. 
 
 A sermon delivered under such circum- 
 stances cannot be copied out in the retirement 
 
138 ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 of the closet, nor can it be caught and convey- 
 ed to the public eye by the efforts of the ste- 
 nographer. True eloquence can no more be 
 thus rendered than can the lightning flash be 
 caught, or the thunder peals reverberated. 
 The truth is, the power of a truly eloquent 
 preacher, such as Legh Kichmond was, lies in 
 many accompanying circumstances, and de- 
 pends much more than we are apt to suppose 
 on a sort of inspiration in the speaker, and a 
 favoring sympatlry of the audience. Still there 
 were more than these in the subject of our 
 sketch. His learning, his clear conceptions, 
 his popular style of" reasoning, his fine imagi- 
 nation, his easy and fluent speech, his affection- 
 ate manner, his conceded purity of motives, 
 a,ll conspired to place .him among the most 
 eloquent and efficient clergymen.of the church 
 of England. 
 
DE. TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 139 
 
 REV. TIMOTHY DWIGHT, D.D. 
 
 Among the luminaries of a past genera- 
 tion, Dr. Dwight shines as a star of the first 
 magnitude. Like most of our distinguished 
 divines, his early ministry was passed in com- 
 parative obscurity. Fitted by nature and by 
 intellectual culture for any position however 
 exalted, he awaited the indications of Provi- 
 dence, content in the lesser, until summoned 
 to the greater circle of influence. But such a 
 man can never be hid. Even when occupying 
 the small parish of Greenfield hill, and obliged 
 to supplement a meagre salary by teaching an 
 academy, he was a centre of attraction to hun- 
 dreds who sought his acquaintance and en- 
 joyed his hospitality. 
 
 When the presidency of Yale college be- 
 came vacant in 1795, he was chosen to fill the 
 responsible station. Here he preached and 
 toiled and taught, until his influence, con- 
 stantly augmenting, was felt to the very ex- 
 tremities of the body politic. Yale college 
 owes a renewed life to Dr. Dwight, who found 
 her in "the spirit of heaviness," and left her 
 clothed in " the garments of praise." 
 
140 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 Such an institution, gathering its pupils 
 from every state and territory, and then pour- 
 ing back upon the several communities whence 
 they came a host of young men, moulded and 
 modelled principally under his powerful intel- 
 lect, was, in that day especially, a most impor- 
 tant fountain of blessings both in church and 
 state. It would hardly be deemed an exag- 
 gerated statement, were we to affirm that no 
 man in the country then living exerted a wider 
 or more salutary influence than the president 
 of this institution. 
 
 Dr. Dwight was a scion from a noble stock, 
 being grandson of the celebrated President 
 Edwards. In person he was a most impressive 
 figure. A stalwart form, with that rounded 
 perfection which is suggestive neither of gross- 
 ness nor of austerity ; with a head that might, 
 without flattery, be termed majestic ; a face 
 expressive of calm dignity, under which could 
 be discerned an imprisoned humor and poetic 
 fervor, and these traits being kept under re- 
 straint by the control of the higher faculties ; 
 with manners graceful and attractive : such is 
 a not overdrawn likeness of the outward and 
 visible man. His portrait is one on which the 
 eye rests with almost perfect satisfaction. Ev- 
 
DR. TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 141 
 
 ery thing is in harmony. The expression is 
 that of one not only of high mental culture, but 
 of great moral worth. There is dignity with- 
 out haughtiness, and condescension without 
 servility. 
 
 We have heard it said, that when Dr. Ma- 
 son, Dr. Stanhope Smith, and Dr. Dwight met 
 in a social circle at Princefon, New Jersey, the 
 company fell into a side discussion on the com- 
 parative merits of these worthy men. Dr. 
 Smith was acknowledged superior in some 
 traits, Dr. Mason in others ; but it was the 
 unanimous verdict that a combination of all 
 the great and attractive qualities met pecul- 
 iarly in Dr. Dwight. 
 
 He usually dressed in a plain style. His 
 coat, of the finest black cloth, was cut after the 
 Franklinian or Quaker pattern ; and this style, 
 so suited to his person and his profession, he 
 never altered, whatever might be the fashion 
 of the day. What was said of Burke, might 
 with equal truth be said of him : that any 
 stranger, stopping with him under a shed in a 
 rain-storm, would at once have recognized his 
 greatness of character. 
 
 But we are less interested in the outer than 
 the inner man. The temple is not so attract- 
 
142 ELOQUENT PBEACHEES. 
 
 ive as the glory which illuminates it. We 
 have to admit, however, that when there is a 
 correspondence between the two, we are none 
 the less impressed with the "tout ensemble." 
 
 As a philosopher, using the term to cover 
 a wide scope of research, he had few equals, 
 and in this country perhaps no superior. The 
 book of nature he explored, and the word of 
 God was his habitual study. To him each of 
 these great volumes was a divine revelation, 
 and by their conjoined effulgence they threw 
 light on the mysteries of our being. 
 
 Dr. Dwight was a most eloquent lecturer 
 on the subtle influences of nature, going into 
 all the finer tracery of G-od's handiwork. Com- 
 bining scientific skill with a sanctified imagi- 
 nation, he would, it is said, out of a mere leaf 
 or flower raise a sublime discourse on the di- 
 vine wisdom and goodness. His mind could 
 grasp the vast relations of science to the phys- 
 ical and the moral world, while it was equally 
 at home in the minuter and more common ex- 
 igencies of practical life. 
 
 In the lecture-room, where perhaps more 
 than anywhere else he gave full scope to his 
 genius, the students, who had looked forward 
 with almost impatient longings to the time 
 
DR. TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 143 
 
 when they should come under his teachings, 
 sat in mute astonishment at the depth of his 
 learning, the nights of his imagination, the 
 strength of his language, and the clear beam- 
 ing conclusions of his reasoning. Hours seem- 
 ed but moments. The driest subjects took life 
 under his inspiring eloquence, and the tolling 
 bell too soon announced the necessity for a, 
 pause. 
 
 What he was in the lecture-room he was 
 also in the pulpit. His printed discourses are 
 a treasure in any clergyman's library. They 
 are read and admired as specimens of clear 
 reasoning, sound doctrine, and an elevated 
 style. They are, in general, not too deep for 
 the comprehension of the unlearned, while 
 some of them task the powers of the most 
 erudite. They are doctrinal and practical. 
 In the former, a truth is stated, then analyzed, 
 then illustrated, then brought home to the con- 
 victions. In the latter, every department of 
 moral responsibility is explored, every Chris- 
 tian duty inculcated, and every incentive to 
 holy obedience urged. The divine law is dis- 
 cussed in its bearings on practical life, or with 
 a view to convict the conscience, or to lead, 
 by a sort of scholastic discipline, to the cross 
 
144 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 of Christ. But when the great themes of re- 
 demption are under consideration, Oh how his 
 soul rises and soars in an exultant, eagle flight! 
 Majesty of thought is combined with simplicity 
 of diction, and the fervor of the Christian is 
 mingled with the reasonings of the philosopher. 
 
 These discourses have become classic 
 among the circle of studious minds. The style 
 is characterized by great force in the use of 
 language, and great beauty in the pertinency 
 and variety of illustration. It has a harmo- 
 nious ring — the result, not so much of skill in 
 the arrangement of words, as in the glowing 
 impetuosity of the thought itself, which swells 
 out in appropriate euphony like the clear peals 
 of an organ. 
 
 We give an example, cited at random from 
 his first volume. It is a few closing sentences 
 from a sermon on the temptation of Satan: "In 
 the first temptation we see the doctrine strong- 
 ly illustrated. Here no prayer ascended for 
 aid. Here therefore no aid was given ; and 
 here, left to themselves, the miserable victims 
 were of course destroyed. Let us then learn 
 wisdom from their example and their end. Let 
 us avoid the one, that we may escape the other. 
 For protection from tempters and temptations, 
 
DR. TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 145 
 
 both within us and without us, let our prayers 
 unceasingly rise with fervent repetition : espe- 
 cially when the serpent approaches, when the 
 charm is about to begin, and when his mouth 
 is ready to open and swallow us up, let our 
 cries for help ascend to heaven that He who is 
 swift to hear, and always prepared to pity and 
 relieve, may mercifully extend his arm and 
 snatch us from the jaws of destruction." 
 
 It was not until the latter part of his min- 
 istry that Dr. Dwight wrote out his sermons. 
 From his early manhood he had been compel- 
 led by impaired vision to preach extempora- 
 neously. His rapid concentration of thought — 
 the result of rigid intellectual discipline — gave 
 him such power over his subject, that the ser- 
 mon had all the exactness of a studied effort, 
 and all the ardor of an impromptu discourse. 
 
 "When unconfined by notes," says one, 
 "the whole field of thought was before him. 
 Into that field he entered, conscious where the 
 subject lay and by what metes and bounds it 
 was limited. Within these limits his powers 
 had full scope, his imagination left to range at 
 will, his feelings were kindled, and his mind 
 became in the highest degree creative. Its 
 conceptions were instantaneous, its thoughts 
 
 Eloquent Preachers. 7 
 
146 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 were new and striking, its deductions clear 
 and irresistible, and its images exact repre- 
 sentations of what his eye saw, living, speak- 
 ing, and acting. When we add that these 
 were accompanied by the utmost fluency and 
 force of language, a piercing ey.e, a counte- 
 nance deeply marked with intellect, a strong 
 emphasis, a voice singular for its compass and 
 melody, an enunciation remarkably clear and 
 distinct, a person dignified and commanding, 
 and gestures graceful and happy, we need not 
 inform the reader that his pulpit efforts at this 
 period possessed every characteristic of ani- 
 mated and powerful eloquence." 
 
 To some his life-long calamity — weakness 
 of eyes — might seem a very serious obstruc- 
 tion to the acquisition, if not the impartation 
 of knowledge. But where there exists genius 
 such as he possessed, an impediment like this 
 only serves to stimulate the mind to higher 
 efforts, and render the triumph not only cer- 
 tain but signal. Evidently in his case it ap- 
 peared to operate as a stimulus to the intel- 
 lectual faculties ; so that what others obtained 
 by their own reading, he acquired more thor- 
 oughly perhaps through the eyes of an aman- 
 uensis. By long habit and continued efforts, 
 
DE. TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 147 
 
 his power to dictate also became astonishing 
 and almost incomprehensible. He could keep 
 his amanuensis hard at work while he carried 
 on at the same time a conversation with friends 
 or with his family. Without embarrassment 
 or disturbance on his part, as the copyist end- 
 ed one sentence, he was supplied with another 
 as pertinent and connected as if his own pen 
 had been at work in the solitude of his closet. 
 It was in this way that his sermons, constitut- 
 ing his body of divinity now so extensively 
 read and admired, were composed. 
 
 One feature in the pulpit efforts of this 
 great and good man ought not to be omitted, 
 which, considering his position and his high 
 literary standing, might not have been expect- 
 ed ; namely, Ms intense desire to save the souls 
 of his hearers. In all his preaching there was 
 the utter absence of any thing like self-com- 
 placency or self-seeking. He seems to have 
 framed every sermon with the desire to con- 
 vince the errorist, to comfort the Christian, or 
 to rouse the impenitent to a sense of his guilt 
 and clanger. This is the impression made upon 
 those who heard, and the same may be said 
 of those who read his sermons. There is no 
 straining after popular effect, no bait thrown 
 
148 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 out for popular applause. His great soul 
 would have disdained to use his high position 
 as a pedestal for personal vanit} r . 
 
 "A characteristic of his preaching," says 
 his biographer, "was a constant regard to 
 practical effect. Even the sermons which com- 
 pose these volumes, will be found in their ap- 
 plication to have this, discriminating charac- 
 ter. It was impossible for him to enter the 
 desk but as the herald of reconciliation. He 
 could not fail to discover his affecting sense of 
 the greatness of the Being who sent him, or of 
 the infinite importance of the message which 
 he brought. And his most obvious purpose 
 was to accomplish the salvation of those to 
 whom it was delivered." A single sermon 
 from the text, "The harvest is passed," the 
 summer is ended, and we are not saved," was 
 accompanied by the special and powerful influ- 
 ence of the Holy Spirit, resulting in a revival 
 among the students, and the ingathering of 
 nearly half of them to the college church. 
 
 "In the performance of the other exercises 
 of public worship," says one who knew him, 
 "he greatly excelled. His manner of reading 
 the Scriptures was peculiarly happy and im- 
 pressive. In prayer, as it regarded subjects, 
 
DR. TIMOTHY DWIGHT. 149 
 
 sentiment, and language, all was appropriate. 
 Free from form, from tiresome repetition, and 
 from lukewarmness, and under the influence of 
 the deepest abasement and prostration of soul, 
 his heart appeared to be melted and his lips to 
 be touched as with a live coal from off the altar." 
 It would be a task not more agreeable to 
 the writer than gratifying to the reader, to 
 follow this noble scholar and divine into the 
 various walks of social and literary life, and 
 exhibit those attractive features which shone 
 out so gracefully under all these circumstances. 
 He was not one of those great men who loom 
 up in the distance, but are of diminished pro- 
 portions when near. Whatever might have 
 been the respect felt for him as viewed through 
 his public services or his high position, that 
 reverence would not have disappeared, but 
 would have been deepened by a more intimate 
 personal communion. "Like Johnson," quot- 
 ing the words of another, "he shone in no 
 place with more distinguished splendor than 
 in the circle of the friends he loved, when the 
 glow of animation lighted up his countenance, 
 and a perpetual stream of knowledge and wis- 
 dom flowed from his lips. Interesting narra- 
 tion, vivid description, and sallies of humor, 
 
150 ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 anecdotes of the just, the good, the generous, 
 and the brave, these all were blended in fine 
 proportions to form the bright and varied tis- 
 sue of his discourse." 
 
 But as the object of this sketch is to bring 
 into view more particularly his preaching qual- 
 ities, and to show in what respect he excelled 
 as a pulpit orator, we would leave to others 
 the grateful task of delineating more fully the 
 scholar, the gentleman, and the friend. 
 
 New England boasts of many great names 
 both in church and state. She has been well 
 represented at the bar, in the senate, and in 
 the pulpit; but we doubt if the emblazoned 
 list contains any one name that should stand 
 higher in the catalogue. Fisher Ames may 
 have rivalled him in burning eloquence, Dan- 
 iel Webster in the heavy calibre of his mental 
 armament, and the younger Adams in the 
 memory of historical events ; but in Dr. 
 Dwight there was a combination of great qual- 
 ities, with no personal weaknesses to obscure 
 their beauty. He was, in one sense — and 
 that the best that we are allowed to attribute 
 to fallen humanity — a perfect man. We say 
 it to the honor of that Being who made him 
 what he was. To God be all the glory. 
 

 ,wT 
 
REV. JONATHAN EDWARDS. 151 
 
 REV. JONATHAN EDWARDS. 
 
 The reputation of Edwards rests princi- 
 pally on his metaphysical and theological writ- 
 ings. The philosopher is more prominent than 
 the preacher. The treatise on the will is much 
 oftener referred to than the sermon at Enfield, 
 where the audience cried aloud for mercy. 
 We are also so far removed from the scenes 
 and circumstances wherein this great divine 
 acted, that it is difficult to form a just impres- 
 sion of the influence which he then exerted, or 
 of the prominent characteristics of his preach- 
 ing. But well do we know that no man who 
 lived in that great revival period, as it may be 
 called, exerted a wider or more salutary influ- 
 ence. 
 
 From boyhood, Edwards was a close stu- 
 dent. When others of his age were interested 
 in such books as Robinson Crusoe, he was ab- 
 sorbed in Locke's Treatise on the Understand- 
 ing. He entered college at twelve, graduated 
 before he was seventeen, and became tutor at 
 twenty-one — proofs not only of precocity, but 
 of proficiency. 
 
152 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 His tendency was to abstract studies : when 
 he investigated, he went to the bottom ; and 
 when he published his views, he had exhausted 
 the subject, and left nothing to be said in reply. 
 While others busied themselves about the su- 
 perstructure, he was examining and strength- 
 ening the foundations. The church of God 
 owes him a debt of gratitude for the impreg- 
 nable fortress which he has built around her 
 most precious doctrines, defying the assaults of 
 both her open and her more subtle adversaries. 
 
 As a pulpit orator, Edwards perhaps could 
 not with truth be placed in the front rank. 
 And yet this depends very much on what is 
 understood by sacred eloquence. If it mean 
 full, powerful, and varied intonation of voice ; 
 if it include necessarily a great deal of action 
 and of graceful gesture ; if it require a soaring 
 fancy and an impetuous utterance, then we are 
 obliged to deny his claim to the character of 
 an eloquent divine. He had neither of these 
 characteristics. 
 
 His constitution was so delicate, that it was 
 by much care as to diet and exercise that he 
 pursued his studies or performed the public 
 services of the sanctuary. His voice, as to 
 volume and force, was feeble. He made few 
 
EEV. JONATHAN EDWAEDS. 153 
 
 gestures, and sometimes scarcely raised his 
 eyes from the manuscript 
 
 But notwithstanding these drawbacks, he 
 was a powerful preacher, so far as power is 
 illustrated by efficiency. In his day, the idea 
 of a sermon was very different from what it is 
 in ours. The audiences were more generally 
 trained to severe thought; and ordinary con- 
 gregations listened to the discourse less as a 
 matter of temporary excitement and more as 
 a lesson of permanent instruction. If the ser- 
 mon was a discussion of some doctrinal point, 
 with close logical reasoning, they braced them- 
 selves up with greater intensity of thought, 
 in order to understand it. Accordingly the 
 preacher, adapting his style and manner to the 
 taste and character of his audience, often gave 
 them "strong meat" as they were "able to 
 bear it." He gave them a view of the massive 
 foundations of their faith. He took them be- 
 hind the veil, where the simple stern attri- 
 butes of truth had sway. He preached of 
 God — his sovereignty, his justice, his holiness, 
 as revealed in his law and illustrated in his 
 providence. He spoke of these great truths, 
 not in the tinselled rhetoric of our times, but in 
 
 the strong, majestic, unpolished Saxon. 
 
 7* 
 
154 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 His only care as to style was, to give a 
 clear conception of the thought, and to express 
 it in the most forcible terms. His writings 
 are not read with a view to the smoothness of 
 his diction, but rather to the acquisition of his 
 ideas. Who would be so presumptuous as to 
 undertake to modernize Edwards' style, or to 
 attempt to polish the rough granite walls of 
 truth which he has erected ? 
 
 And yet it must not be supposed that no 
 beauties are to be found in his writings save 
 those of simple truth and solid reasoning. 
 Was Edwards destitute of the imaginative fac- 
 ulty ? Were there no folded wings about this 
 strong angel capable of soaring? Was there 
 no eagle eye looking wistfully towards the sun? 
 Eead his sermon on ' ' the Excellency of Christ," 
 or that on "the Sinner in the Hands of an 
 angry Grod," and then say if the pen that por- 
 trays the glory of Immanuel, or, dipped in the 
 days colors of retribution, describes the doom 
 of the wicked, be not as powerful for vivid 
 description as before it had been for logical 
 exactness. 
 
 His descriptive sermons partake, however, 
 more of the grand than of the beautiful. He 
 is more like Ezekiel amid the stormy symbols 
 
EEV. JONATHAN EDWARDS. 155 
 
 of wrath, than like Isaiah tuning his harp to 
 evangelical strains. With Edwards, mount 
 Sinai is altogether in smoke and fire, and the 
 footsteps of Jehovah are heard in the tramp 
 of its thunders. He seems calculated, by the 
 peculiar attributes of his genius, to echo in ad- 
 vance "the voice of the archangel and the 
 trump of God." How terrible must have been 
 that sermon on the doom of sinners, delivered 
 in a revival at Enfield, when from solemnity 
 the feelings of the audience deepened at length 
 into an insupportable agony, and the cry burst 
 forth, "What must we do to be saved?" 
 
 It will not do to deny to such a man a 
 claim to sacred eloquence. He may not pos- 
 sess the charm of a graceful delivery, nor the 
 music of a well-modulated voice, nor the skill 
 of a practical rhetorician ; but he has power — 
 a power that somehow arrests the attention, 
 holds it, deepens it, until the very gates of 
 heaven seem opening, and the caverns of hell 
 yawning before the eyes of his hearers. 
 
 Wherein lay this power ? We must search 
 for it beyond the style, beyond the manner, for 
 in neither does it seem to lie. We must trace it 
 in the spirit of the preacher ; in the soul that, 
 like Moses, had been face to face with God. 
 
156 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 We all know from actual experience the 
 difference between words spoken from real and 
 deep feeling, and those which are formal or 
 merely professional. The latter may be more 
 in accordance with the rules of the rhetorician, 
 and we may not be able to discover a flaw in 
 language or in elocution ; but the well-spoken 
 sentences fail to touch the heart, to disturb the 
 conscience, or to rouse to energetic action. It 
 is all artificial work. It is a palace of ice glit- 
 tering in the sun. Such sermons may be called 
 great, but they lack the very soul of eloquence. 
 On the other hand, where the preacher has his 
 own heart imbued with the sentiments which 
 he aims to transfuse into the souls of others, 
 and when, coining from secret communion with 
 God — where, like the prophets of old, he has 
 been led into visions of the awful future — he 
 speaks in God's name the great and solemn 
 message entrusted to him, though the art of 
 the orator may be absent, the great end of 
 sacred eloquence, conviction, is accomplished. 
 
 In saying this, as illustrative of all the 
 effect of Edwards' preaching, we would not be 
 understood as attributing to man what prop- 
 erly belongs to the Spirit of God. God gave 
 to Edwards not only a great mind, but a great 
 
REV. JONATHAN EDWARDS. 157 
 
 soul ; not only intellect, but deep feeling ; not 
 only the power to investigate divine truth, but 
 a perception of its solemn bearings on the des- 
 tiny of man. It was a baptism from heaven, 
 by waters taken from the river of life, bathing 
 all his faculties in a renovating and refreshing 
 influence. 
 
 Herein lay the power of the preacher. It 
 was a power not of itself able to reach the 
 great end of preaching, but a power more com- 
 monly sanctified to its attainment. It was this 
 heaven-inspired feeling which, vitalizing the 
 truths of God's word as enunciated on the occa- 
 sion alluded to at Enfield, sent the message 
 home to the hearts and consciences of his hear- 
 ers, while the Spirit of God made those truths 
 "sharper than a two-edged sword." 
 
 Edwards lived in an age of stirring events. 
 The great revival, beginning in England and 
 lighting up at length this Western hemisphere, 
 spread like an atmosphere over the churches, 
 waking and warming into life the long slum- 
 bering energies of God's people. In the midst 
 of it all was seen Whitefield, standing like an 
 angel in the sun. 
 
 Who that reads the history of those times, 
 but must be impressed with the newly com- 
 
158 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 municatecl power- of G-od ? The churches were 
 visited as with pentecostal fire. It filled the 
 whole land. Edwards caught the flame. Such 
 a soul as his could not fail to sympathize in 
 this work of the Spirit. His sermons became 
 like the trumpet-tonguecl angel, waxing louder 
 and louder. Truth fell with startling emphasis 
 upon ears hitherto dull of hearing, and upon 
 hearts hard as adamant. Thousands felt the 
 quickening power. 
 
 After a time the spirit of true piety be- 
 gan to be less distinguishable, and a spirit 
 of fanaticism began to develop itself. Every 
 good thing is liable to perversion. Nay, the 
 very best thing that G-od ever gave or man 
 received may be so perverted or abused as to 
 produce a moral monstrosity. This is not the 
 product of true piety, but of its counterfeit. 
 It is evidence that humanity is weak as well 
 as wicked; and so religion has to suffer for 
 errors traceable only to the absence of her 
 enlightening power. 
 
 Edwards saw the coming storm, and pre- 
 pared for it. He saw excitable men and min- 
 isters embracing views derogatory to truth, 
 and calculated fatally to mislead the soul. 
 Not only did he aim by his preaching to coun- 
 
EEV. JONATHAN EDWARDS. 159 
 
 teract it, but he prepared and published a 
 treatise on the Religious Affections, which he 
 intended should serve as a test of true piety, 
 and so unveil, and if possible arrest the growth 
 of fanaticism. 
 
 A more discriminating work on the inward 
 experience of piety has never been produced. 
 It would seem as if every man who reads it 
 must decide without further proof his position 
 and his destiny. 
 
 It would be aside from the object of this 
 sketch to enter upon a discussion as to the 
 merits of his controversial writings. They are 
 numerous, and they take in subjects of vital 
 importance. He is fair in his statements, clear 
 in his reasoning, and carries his readers to 
 conclusions which some of them might not per- 
 haps relish, but which it would be very diffi- 
 cult to refute. His controversial and meta- 
 physical works are considered by the best 
 judges as among the most gigantic efforts of 
 the human mind. His fame in this department 
 is as great in Europe as it is in America. 
 
 Dr. Chalmers, writing to a friend in this 
 country, says of Edwards, "I have long es- 
 teemed him as the greatest of theologians; 
 combining, in a degree that is craite unexam- 
 
160 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 pled, the profoundly intellectual with the devot- 
 edly spiritual and sacred, and realizing in his 
 own person a most rare yet most beautifu] 
 harmony between the simplicity of the Chris- 
 tian pastor on the one hand, and on the other 
 all the strength and prowess of a giant in phi- 
 losophy ; so as at once to minister from Sab- 
 bath to Sabbath, and with the most blessed 
 effect to the hearers of his plain congregation, 
 and yet in the high field of authorship to have 
 traversed in a way that none had ever done 
 before him the most inaccessible places, and 
 achieved such a mastery as had never till his 
 time been realized over the most arduous diffi- 
 culties of our science." 
 
 It must be confessed that, considering the 
 space which President Edwards occupied as a 
 Christian philosopher and eminent divine, there 
 has come down to us a comparative meagre 
 amount of reliable matter illustrative of his 
 peculiarities as a preacher. From his printed 
 sermons we cannot, in this respect, gather a 
 very satisfactory impression. They are full 
 of thought, with flashes of eloquence, and clos- 
 ing generally with a solemn and searching ap- 
 plication. They gleam with pertinent quota- 
 tions from the Scriptures, and show a deep 
 
BEV. JONATHAN EDWAEDS. 161 
 
 and thorough knowledge of the springs of hu- 
 man action. Yet after all we long to know 
 more of the speaker — his expression of face, 
 his whole air and manner, coomb'ining in the 
 secret charm which so held his audience spell- 
 bound. We are almost impatient with his 
 contemporaries, that they should not have 
 transmitted a fuller and more satisfactory por- 
 trait of this great divine. 
 
 The nearest approach to the gratification 
 of this so natural a longing, may be found in a 
 paragraph of the short biographical sketch in 
 his first volume : "Viewing Mr. Edwards as a 
 writer of sermons, we cannot give him the epi- 
 thet eloquent, in the common acceptation of the 
 term. We see in him nothing of the great 
 masters of eloquence, except good sense, con- 
 clusive reasoning, and the power of moving the 
 passions. Oratorical pomp, a cryptic method, 
 luxurious descriptions presented to the imagi- 
 nation, and a rich variety of rhetorical figures, 
 enter not into his plan. But his thoughts are 
 well digested, and his reasoning conclusive. 
 He produces considerations which not only 
 force the assent, but also touch the conscience. 
 He urges divine authority by quoting and ex- 
 plaining Scripture in a form calculated to rouse 
 
 
162 ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 the soul. He moves the passions not by little 
 artifices, like the professed rhetorician, but by 
 saying what is much to the purpose in a plain, 
 serious, and interesting way ; and thus making 
 reason, conscience, fear, and love to be decid- 
 edly in his favor. And thus the passions are 
 moved in the most profitable manner; the 
 more generous ones take the lead, and they 
 are directed in the way of practical utility." 
 

EEV. GEOKGE WHITEFIELD. 163 
 
 REV. GEORGE WHITEFIELD, 
 
 "THE SEEAPHIC MAN." 
 
 The name of Whitefield is stereotyped on 
 the popular mind as the representative of that 
 highest of arts, pulpit eloquence ; so that to 
 say that a preacher is as eloquent as White- 
 field, would be regarded as extravagant as to 
 say that a senator was as eloquent as Demosthe- 
 nes. And yet strange is it, that no biographer 
 or writer, in his day or ours, has given a just 
 and true portraiture of this unequalled preach- 
 er. We read his printed sermons, and they 
 disappoint us. We say to ourselves, These 
 are not great sermons, nor apparently eloquent 
 ones. We wonder how it was that their utter- 
 ance, even by his fire-touched lips, could so 
 have entranced listening thousands. But the 
 truth is, Whitefield wrote these sermons on 
 his voyages across the Atlantic, amid the dis- 
 comforts of sea- life, and in the absence of 
 those stirring sympathies which were kindled 
 in the crowded audiences of Tottenham Court. 
 They cannot give one, therefore, a just idea 
 of the preacher. It would be about as ab- 
 
164 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 surd to judge of his eloquence, by these speci- 
 mens, as it would to judge of the spirit and 
 fire of a war-horse on the battle-field by 
 seeing him leisurely walked over the parade- 
 ground. 
 
 Of all men, Whitefield was the last to 
 transmit the fire of his sermons through the 
 press. So much did he owe to physical tem- 
 perament, to the volume and varied intona- 
 tions of his voice, to the "irrepressible fires of 
 a soul all alive to the grand and overpowering- 
 visions of divine truth, to a sort of inspiration 
 kindled by the sight of thousands whose eyes 
 were ready to weep and whose hearts were 
 ready to break the moment his clarion voice 
 rang on their expectant ears — so much did he 
 owe to these circumstances, that his eloquence 
 cannot be appreciated by any account of it 
 which can be given verbally, or which can be 
 delineated on paper. Yain is it, therefore, to 
 look into his printed sermons to find his power. 
 Equally hopeless is it, at this distant day, to 
 write his life with the idea of conveying to the 
 reader a just estimate of him as a pulpit ora- 
 tor. Philip seems to labor under this con- 
 sciousness when he admits that his life is yet 
 to be written. But we can scarcely conceive 
 
BEV. GEOKGE WHITEFIELD. 165 
 
 how it could be done satisfactorily, even were 
 Sou they, the accomplished biographer, of Wes- 
 ley, alive, and willing to undertake it. 
 
 Whitefield's eloquence grew out of many 
 circumstances, all of which cannot be explored, 
 any more than we can trace the mysterious 
 sources of the rapid, full-flowing, and fertiliz- 
 ing Nile. There was a histrionic vein in his 
 very boyhood. The play of his passions even 
 then was wonderful. As he grew to manhood, 
 these qualities ripened unconsciously into 
 strength ; and so gifted was he at the very 
 outset of his public life, that had he chosen the 
 stage instead of the pulpit, Garrick might have 
 found a competitor whose genius would have 
 eclipsed, if not utterly extinguished, his own. 
 Such is said to have been the admission of that 
 celebrated tragedian after listening to one of 
 Whitefield's sermons. 
 
 Without being handsome, Whitefield's face 
 was a speaking one. It was a luminous medi- 
 um of the passions. The bright or the dark, 
 the lurid cloud and the calm sunshine, made 
 themselves known not only in .the voice and 
 the gesture, but especially in the ever-varying 
 expressions of the eloquent countenance. The 
 writer, who has sought to obtain from every 
 
166 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 possible source traditionary facts concerning 
 this matchless preacher, once heard a very old 
 man say that when he was listening to White- 
 field he was spell-bound, and could scarcely 
 •tell by what means the magic power was so 
 potent over him. After some questioning, the 
 old man said he believed it was owing to his 
 voice in part, but more to his expressive face. 
 That face was like a canvas, and the preacher 
 painted on it every passion that stirs in the 
 human breast. It was at one moment terrific, 
 as if all the furies were enthroned on that dark 
 brow, and the next, as by a dissolving view, 
 there would come forth an angelic sweetness 
 that savored of heaven itself. His eyes, up- 
 turned, seemed to the beholder to penetrate to 
 the very throne of God. He saw, so it would 
 seem, the celestial host. He addressed Ga- 
 briel as if familiar with that bright archangel. 
 He bade him suspend his flight and receive 
 the news and bear it upward that one more 
 sinner had repented. Who but Whitefield 
 would have dared the almost impossible rhe- 
 torical experiment? Who would have ven- 
 tured to cry out, "Stop, Gabriel, stop?'' But 
 it was done by him, and as naturally as if the 
 vision were real, and as if Gabriel furled his 
 
REV. GEORGE WHITEEIELD. 167 
 
 wing at the preacher's call, and received the 
 joyful message. And when too he took the 
 sinner to the judgment-seat, tried him by God's 
 unerring law, brought him in guilty, and then, 
 with moistened eyes and a heart burning with 
 pity, he put on the cap of condemnation, and 
 proceeded, with choking utterance, to pro- 
 nounce sentence, while the audience were 
 melted to tears ; when all this was done, not 
 as an actor would do it, but in the faith of a 
 real prospective scene, and with unutterable 
 sorrow of soul, as speaking under God's high 
 sanction, how intensely moved and excited 
 must the audience have been ! 
 
 It was no affectation when his tears fell 
 like rain. It was for no rhetorical effect that 
 he threw himself into these impassioned expos- 
 tulations with his careless and impenitent hear- 
 ers. Whitefield never played a part. His 
 boldest and most original pulpit efforts were 
 the natural efflux of a soul which knew no 
 selfish impulse, but which beat with sincere 
 love to lost men.* It was not Whitefield, but 
 Christ that he was thinking of. It was not to 
 attract admiration upon himself, but to draw 
 all men to the Saviour, that he thus spoke. 
 His eloquence was kindled at the cross, and 
 
168 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 displayed its grandest features when redemp- 
 tion by that cross was its mighty theme. 
 
 His personal appearance — judging from 
 what is considered the best engraved like- 
 ness — is not calculated to impress us either 
 with great intellectual force or a graceful exte- 
 rior. That wig of huge dimensions, covering 
 and concealing the higher and more striking 
 lineaments of the forehead ; the upraised 
 hands, an undesirable thing in a picture, 
 though a most impressive one to. witness; his 
 eyes, so small, with a decided cast in one of 
 them, render this likeness any thing but con- 
 sonant with our preconceived notions of the 
 "seraphic man." But while in person he was 
 not among the most majestic or the most at- 
 tractive, all defects were lost sight of the mo- 
 ment that eloquent voice began to peal out its 
 unrivalled music. The term "seraphic" was 
 not given to him for his exterior grace or his 
 symmetrical features. It was the spirit within 
 him shining through and illuminating those fea- 
 tures, until the audience, hushed or excited, 
 were ready to doubt if the speaker were a man 
 or an angel. His burning eloquence seemed to 
 the listener as properly symbolizing the respon- 
 sive cry one to another of the glowing seraphim. 
 
REV. GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 169 
 
 The eloquence of Whitefield, by the con- 
 current testimony of those with whom the 
 writer in younger days conversed, including 
 one venerable divine, was owing, as in most 
 other similar cases, to a combination of quali- 
 ties, rather than to any single excellence. 
 The great foundation of it all lay in a soul of 
 intense emotions stirred to its very depths by 
 the power of religion. He was a consecrated 
 man from the first. It was a full, joyful, and 
 cordial surrender of all his powers and affec- 
 tions to Christ, and to the love of souls for 
 Christ's sake. He counted every thing but 
 loss for Him. His love was the grand impul- 
 sive power in all his journeys, his labors, his 
 self-denials, and his aims. In this respect he 
 came nearer than any modern preacher we 
 know of to "the great apostle of the Gen- 
 tiles." 
 
 This burning zeal for Christ found expres- 
 sion in the gesture, the countenance, and the 
 voice. These were the electric wires through 
 which the fiery current within flowed down in 
 startling shocks or melting influences upon lis- 
 tening thousands. In gesture, no man ever 
 excelled, perhaps none ever equalled him. 
 These gestures were unstudied, and so gave 
 
 Eloquent Preachers. S 
 
170 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 the greater emphasis to his utterances. A sin' 
 gle movement of his finger, with the accompa- 
 nying expression of his face, would thrill an 
 audience or dissolve them in tears. His face, 
 radiant with the light from heaven, which he 
 had caught on the Mount of Communion, begat 
 an immediate sympathy, as all eyes were riv- 
 eted upon it. A countenance will thus affect 
 us, as we all know. How often have we felt 
 its power ere a word was spoken. But Oh, 
 when that face began to throw off from its lus- 
 trous surface the rays of divine intelligence, 
 and when tears and smiles alternated, as the 
 subject was pensive or joyful, how did the 
 audience with responsive sympathy weep or 
 rejoice under the eloquent preacher ! But the 
 voice, what shall we say of that? It was such 
 as man is seldom gifted with. It could be 
 heard distinctly, on a clear, still evening, for 
 a mile. It was smooth, variable, and could 
 express the gentlest emotions. It was capa- 
 ble also of swelling into thunder-peals, and 
 then every ear tingled and every heart trem- 
 bled. If the organ of some grand cathedral 
 had the power to speak, and could express the 
 finest and most tender sentiments from its del- 
 icate pipes, and roll forth majestic thoughts on 
 
KEV. GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 171 
 
 its largest ones, it would give some idea of 
 Whitefield's variable and powerful tones. 
 
 "Whitefield's power as a pulpit orator can- 
 not be separated from his pious emotions nor 
 from his religious views. Had lie embraced a 
 theory of religion less emotional, more after 
 the pattern of rationalists or ritualists, his 
 eloquence would have been lost to the world. 
 Never would his soul so have taken fire, nor 
 his lips glowed with the burning coal of enthu- 
 siastic passion. But he believed in man's ruin 
 by sin ; in the certain interminable woe that 
 awaits the impenitent; in the mercy of God 
 through Jesus Christ, and the free offer of sal- 
 vation through faith in the cross. Such were 
 his views, and under this conviction he looked 
 upon his audiences. He saw but one hope set 
 before them, and with his whole soul moved 
 and melted by the love of Christ on the one 
 hand, and the love of souls on the other, he 
 pressed every hearer, with all the energy of a 
 dying man speaking to dying men, to accept 
 the great salvation. Nor do we think that 
 the pulpit can reach its appropriate power, 
 nor for any length of time retain it, unless 
 these grand cardinal doctrines of grace are the 
 inspiring themes. 
 
172 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 The eloquence of Whitefield never waned. 
 It was greater, if possible, at fifty than at 
 thirty. It was never more impressive or pow- 
 erful than when the silence of death suddenly 
 settled upon his lips ; and his last efforts in the 
 pulpit partook so much of a heavenly inspira- 
 tion, that some regarded them as the prepara- 
 tory vibrations of that golden harp upon which 
 he was to swell for ever the high notes of re- 
 demption. 
 


 . ' 
 
KEV. RICHARD BAXTER. 173 
 
 REV. RICHARD BAXTER. 
 
 Among the names of the past which need 
 no monumental pile to perpetuate their mem- 
 ory is that of Richard Baxter. More than a 
 century and a half has rolled away since he 
 felUasleep, and yet the amaranth upon his 
 brow is now greener and emits a sweeter 
 fragrance than when it was first wreathed 
 around it. 
 
 Baxter lived in stirring times. His heroic 
 bearing when the church was in peril, his 
 clarion voice, sounding loud and clear amid 
 the din and strife, made him a rallying point 
 for the persecuted, and a terror to the oppres- 
 sor. He was a man of true courage, fearing 
 only God, and acting only under the high con- 
 sideration of duty. When the church de- 
 manded what his conscience could not con- 
 cede, he broke away from her thraldom ; and 
 when Cromwell succeeded to power, he enter- 
 ed his protest against what he considered a 
 usurpation. And after the restoration, when 
 a wily government sought to close his mouth 
 by the offer of a bishopric, he, like Owen, re- 
 
174 ELOQUENT PBEACHEES. 
 
 fused to accept it. These noble men thought 
 less of their own elevation than of the inter- 
 ests of Zion, and cared more for freedom of 
 speech and freedom of conscience than for the 
 emoluments and honors of a bishopric. 
 
 As an eloquent preacher, Baxter's claim 
 admits not of a doubt. There was no minister 
 of his day superior to him — and it was a day 
 too when stars of the first magnitude revolved 
 in the ecclesiastical sphere. Dr. John Owen, 
 the man of immense learning, vice-chancellor 
 of the University, yet in spirit humble as a 
 child ; John Flavel, of burning zeal, and with 
 prayers that seemed to storm the citadel of 
 heaven ; Matthew Henry, so pithy and pointed 
 in his interpretations of Scripture, were his 
 contemporaries, and among these Baxter moved 
 as a sort of spiritual Agamemnon. With the 
 learning of Owen he combined the earnest- 
 ness of Flavel, and far in advance of both was 
 he in the force and even classic purity of his 
 style. But Baxter regarded style only as a 
 vehicle of thought, and adopted words and 
 sentences best adapted to bring' out that 
 thought in the strongest light, just as the artil- 
 lerist regards that piece of ordnance as the best 
 which carries the ball furthest and sends it the 
 
REV. RICHARD BAXTER. 175 
 
 most surely to its mark. He seems never to 
 have studied how lie should write, but what. 
 The thought was the great point, and the mode 
 of expressing it was intended first to make it 
 clear, and next to give it point and power. 
 
 Read any of his writings and you will see 
 at once that his grand design was to get the 
 truth vividly before the reader — to make him 
 not only see and acknowledge it, but better 
 still, to feel it. He wrote at men. Knowing 
 that the heart had more influence for or against 
 religion than the intellect, all his arguments 
 and appeals addressed to the reason were 
 simply with a view of reaching at length the 
 selfish and sin-loving heart. He is in this 
 respect a model for all succeeding ministers. 
 Preach at men as he did, use language simply 
 to give force to thoughts, assail the reason only 
 that you may get deeper down where lies the 
 demon of selfishness and unbelief, point your 
 artillery in the direction of the mail-coated 
 conscience and heart as Baxter did, and see if 
 the pastor of Kidderminster will be the only 
 one to witness nearly a whole town converted 
 to the faith of Jesus. 
 
 Baxter was a pulpit orator without any 
 idea of being one. He had no such end in 
 
176 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 view. He was filled with the love of God 
 and the love of souls, and his only aim was to 
 bring sinners to God and to educate them for 
 the kingdom of heaven. Every thing that he 
 did, said, or Wrote has this aim only. 
 
 He was by nature a man of might in body 
 as well as in mind. Tall, muscular, and of 
 gigantic strength, he was a match for any 
 bravo. Some who feared not his moral power 
 stood in dread of his strong arm. An anec- 
 dote illustrative of this is told of him. A 
 swaggering bully hearing of Baxter's great 
 strength, was disposed to put it to the test. 
 So, leading his horse into the garden where 
 the pastor was at work, he began in no very 
 respectful way to banter him. The patience 
 of the good man was at length exhausted, and 
 dropping his spade, he seized the intruder and 
 pitched him over the fence. The astonished 
 man, picking himself up, simply said, "Sir, I 
 will thank you if you will throw my horse 
 over after me." This anecdote, I think, was 
 related to the class by our venerated instruct- 
 or, the late Rev. Dr. Miller of Princeton. 
 
 Judging from his writings, Baxter must 
 have had great power in the pulpit. It is im- 
 possible that such burning words as gleam in 
 
KEV. RICHARD BAXTER. 177 
 
 every line of the "Call to the Unconverted" 
 could have been uttered in any other tones 
 than those of the deepest feeling. He seems 
 fairly to clutch the soul in a sort of a§pny, as 
 if, so far as man's ability could prevent, the 
 sinner must not take another step in the 
 broad road to hell. He expostulates, he 
 weeps, he pleads. Rushing between the prec- 
 ipice and the infatuated sinner who would dare 
 its brink, he cries, in God's name, "Why will 
 ye die ?" 
 
 His "Saints' Rest" was written with the 
 heavenly inheritance almost in sight. He was 
 himself just about, as he supposed, to enter 
 upon it. The dividing line seemed to him but 
 a breath. He lay panting on the brink of the 
 cold river, directing his eyes towards the ce- 
 lestial landscape which his faith descried, and 
 for which his heart so ardently longed. For- 
 getting the things which were behind — the 
 dreary way over which his feet had toiled, 
 and the sharp conflicts which had left their 
 scars on his bruised soul — he now concen- 
 trates all his interest on the glory that was to 
 be revealed. In a strain seemingly almost 
 inspired, he paints in glowing but truthful col- 
 ors the celestial paradise. He makes us see as 
 
 8* 
 
178 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 it were into heaven. He asks us to accom- 
 pany him where the echo of the angel harps 
 may be heard, and the white robes of the re- 
 deemed are seen to glimmer. So far as lan- 
 guage can express, or the imagination picture 
 the glorified state, he has embodied its most 
 striking features, while yet every line and 
 lineament is in accordance with the simple 
 revelations of the Bible. Ify his luminous 
 and penetrating genius, however, he has placed 
 in new and attractive lights truths which had 
 been familiar ; and the scenes which to our 
 weaker faith had been but dimly discerned, 
 are rendered more vivid and more distinct 
 through the medium of his superior spiritual 
 vision. As no man, after Bunyan, can venture 
 to write another Pilgrim's Progress, and no 
 poet, after Milton, can hope to sing of Para- 
 dise Lost, so no author can expect to treat of 
 the saints' everlasting rest, since this ecstatic 
 divine has written out the impressions which 
 his dying vision caught of its attractions and 
 its glories In truth, so far as language can 
 go in defining and a sanctified imagination in 
 conceiving "the rest that remaineth," Baxter 
 may be said to have exhausted the subject. 
 He has left nothing more to be said. All that 
 
KEV. RICHARD BAXTER. 179 
 
 remains is to see and to realize, and that can 
 be done only when language has ceased to be 
 a medium of thought and the visions of eter- 
 nity are brought into direct contact with the 
 Conscious soul. But let us thank Baxter for 
 strewing our path to heaven with flowers so 
 fragrant, and for gilding " the valley of the 
 shadow of death " with so much of the ra- 
 diance of "the bright and morning star." 
 Long familiar with this world, and experimen- 
 tally ignorant of the dark future, few can look 
 upon death without some dread. But how 
 much more fearful would be the recoil if no 
 such compensations and hopes and prospects 
 had been suggested and promised. Praised 
 be God for revealing the antidote to death; 
 and thanks to Bichard Baxter, under God, for 
 , making its gateway ring with the notes of an- 
 ticipated triumph. 
 
 Baxter was not only a champion of moral 
 truth — a sort of Cceur de Lion in the field of 
 theological warfare, wielding the battle-axe of 
 argument with an irresistible arm — but he was 
 equally distinguished in the home field of- 
 peaceful culture. He was the model pastor as 
 well as the model preacher. He took a field, 
 the most hopeless, and made it as the garden 
 
180 ELOQUENT PKEACHEKS. 
 
 of God. What our engineers and landscape 
 gardeners have done for our Central Park, 
 converting barren rocks and unhealthy ra- 
 vines into a paradise of beauty, Baxter did 
 for Kidderminster. If Augustus Cassar made 
 it his boast that, having found Eome brick, he 
 had left it marble, Baxter, we think, might 
 have spoken of a far more noble achievement, 
 when, by heaven's blessing on his spiritual 
 labors, he had transformed Kidderminster 
 from a heap of rubbish and ruins to a living 
 temple, radiant with the indwelling presence 
 of God. "Before his coming thither," says 
 one, "the place was overrun with ignorance 
 and profaneness ; but by the divine blessing 
 on his wise and faithful cultivation, the fruits 
 of righteousness sprang up in rich abundance. 
 He at first found but a single instance or two 
 of daily family prayer in a whole street ; and 
 at his going away, but one family or two could 
 be found in some streets that continued to 
 neglect it. And on Lord's days, inst«ad of 
 the open profanation to which they had been 
 so long accustomed, a person, in passing 
 through the town in the intervals of public 
 worship, might even hear hundreds of families 
 engaged in singing psalms, reading the Scrip- 
 
REV. RICHARD BAXTER. 181 
 
 tures, and other good books, or such sermons 
 as they had written down while they heard 
 them from the pulpit. His care of the souls 
 committed to his charge and the success of his 
 labors among them were truly remarkable, for 
 the number of his stated communicants rose to 
 six hundred, of whom he himself declared there 
 were not twelve concerning whose sincere piety 
 he had not reason to entertain good hopes." 
 
 Such a man was authorized to speak to 
 ministers of their duty, and to the saints of 
 their everlasting rest. The reformed pastor is 
 after all but the real pastor, going up and 
 down the streets of Kidderminster warning 
 every man and teaching every man, that he 
 might present every man perfect in Christ 
 Jesus. He who for thirty years lay almost 
 on the borders of eternity, expecting every 
 day to receive his summons to depart — who 
 went each Sabbath into the pulpit and preach- 
 ed as though it were his last sermon, might 
 well expatiate on the mansions of eternal rest, 
 and invoke .the lagging disciples to rouse up 
 and renew the race for immortality. Every 
 thing about Baxter wore the aspect of a heav- 
 enly nobility. Great by nature, he was great- 
 er still by grace. The masculine strength of 
 
182 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 character which he originally possessed was 
 softened almost into angelic sweetness by the 
 sanctifying power of religion. Among the 
 great lights of the Reformation, or rather vin- 
 dication — for he contended for principles which 
 Luther had inaugurated and Calvin defended — 
 he may, in the language of another, "be re- 
 garded as a standard-bearer. He labored 
 much, as well in preaching as in writing, and 
 with an abundant blessing on both. He had 
 all the high mental qualities of his class in 
 perfection. His mind is inexhaustible and 
 vigorous and vivacious to an extraordinary 
 degree. He seizes irresistibly on the atten- 
 tion, and carries it along with him, and we 
 assuredly do not know any author who can be 
 compared with him for the power with which 
 he brings his reader directly face to face with 
 death, judgment, and eternity, and compels 
 him to look upon them and converse with 
 them. He is himself most deeply serious, and 
 the holy solemnity of his own soul seems to 
 envelope the reader as with the air of a tem- 
 ple." 
 
KEY. JOHN BUNYAN. 183 
 
 REV. JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 The name of Bunyan is familiar to every 
 Christian household. His Pilgrim's Progress* 
 has a high place in their affections, and in 
 many of their libraries it is placed next to the 
 Bible itself. Few however have thought of 
 Bunyan as an eloquent expositor of those doc- 
 trines so beautifully illustrated in his immortal 
 allegory. Whereas, if they will read his Life 
 and Times, they will discover that his claim to 
 their admiration is founded not only on what 
 he has written, but on what he did and suffered 
 in the cause of evangelical truth. A noble 
 witness was he for God, when priestly power 
 dominated over liberty of conscience. He pre- 
 ferred twelve years' imprisonment in Bedford 
 jail to a freedom which, if enjoyed, must needs 
 have been purchased at the sacrifice of princi- 
 ple. But what intolerance did against Bunyan, 
 Providence overruled for the benefit of man- 
 kind. His incarceration suggested his Pil- 
 grim's Progress, and gave him the time to 
 work it out in all its graphic and picturesque 
 beauty. "Out of the eater thus came forth 
 
184 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 meat, and out of the strong came forth sweet- 
 ness." Thanks to Grod, who caused the rod of 
 the oppressor to blossom into fragrance and to 
 bear such refreshing fruit. 
 
 But we have to do with Bunyan not as the 
 *epic poet of Christian heroism, but as a preach- 
 er of the gospel. Long time was he in prep- 
 aration for this great work. His theology was . 
 not learned in the schools of the prophets, but 
 altogether in the school of Christ. His text- 
 book was the simple word of God, and his 
 teacher was the Holy Spirit. Drawing his 
 knowledge thus from the fountain-head, it was 
 fresh and pure ; and taught by the Spirit, it 
 was viewed in those lights and relations which 
 reflected lustre on each particular doctrine, 
 and gave impressiveness to the whole. 
 
 No man perhaps ever passed through a 
 severer ordeal of inward trials and tempta- 
 tions. The old man of sin had such power, 
 and held it so long, that when the struggle of 
 the new man began it was almost like the giv- 
 ing up of the ghost. But the demon was at 
 length cast out ; and then such peace, such set- 
 tled purpose of obedience, such simple trust in 
 Christ took possession of his soul, that thence- 
 forward Bunyan ran the race like a victorious 
 
EEV. JOHN BUNYAN. 185 
 
 competitor of the Olympic games. Such was 
 the training of this obscure and humble man 
 for the work of the ministry, which, with great 
 diffidence and after many misgivings, he en- 
 tered upon in the year 1656. "Wherefore," 
 says he, "though of myself of all the saints the 
 most unworthy, yet I, with great fear and 
 trembling at the sight of my own weakness, 
 did set upon the work, and did, according to 
 my gifts and the proportion of my faith, preach 
 that blessed gospel that God had showed me 
 in the holy word of truth." 
 
 Who can doubt that Bunyan's genius would 
 have been cramped, if not fettered, by the 
 learning of the schools? or that a three years' 
 drill in a theological seminary would have rob- 
 bed his style of much of its Saxon strength and 
 his spirit of much of its ethereal fire? Philip, 
 in his Life of Bunyan, says, speaking of Bishop 
 Burton's criticisms, "I can now see Burton's 
 face lighted up with complacency when he de- 
 clared, concerning Bunyan's preparation for 
 the ministry, 'He hath, through grace, taken 
 three heavenly degrees, namely, union with 
 Christ, the anointing of the Spirit, and experi- 
 ence of temptation, which do more to fit a man 
 for the weighty work of preaching the gospel 
 
186 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 than all the university learning and degrees 
 that can be had.' " 
 
 Thus fitted, Bunyan began in a very hum- 
 ble way to exhibit his gifts, as the phrase then 
 was, and forthwith the people were startled 
 and astonished by his earnest, scriptural, and 
 unctuous style of preaching. Hundreds flocked 
 in from all quarters, and the word as dispensed 
 by him was quick and powerful, convincing 
 men of their sins, and leading them to hope in 
 Jesus. "At this therefore I rejoiced; for the 
 tears of those whom God did awaken by my 
 preaching would be both solace and encourage- 
 ment to me. These things therefore were as 
 another argument unto me that God had called 
 me to and stood by me in this work." 
 
 . Bunyan's first efforts at preaching were 
 of the experimental style ; that is, he simply 
 preached as he felt. At first it was princi- 
 pally of the legal type, and aimed at arousing 
 the conscience. This was owing to the fact 
 that his own soul was stirred to its very depths 
 by awful views of his just condemnation by the 
 law. He went through the land fulminating 
 against the vices and sins of his hearers, and 
 pouring on their ears the terrors of a hastening 
 retribution. But as God revealed to him more 
 
KEV. JOHN BTJNYAN. 187 
 
 of the hopes and joys of salvation, he exchanged 
 the trumpet of condemnation for the harp of 
 mercy. "I preached what I smartingly did 
 feel — even that under which my poor soul did 
 groan and tremble to astonishment. I went 
 myself in chains to preach to them in chains. 
 Thus I went on for the space of two years, 
 crying out against men's sins and their fearful 
 state because of them. After which the Lord 
 came upon my soul with some pure peace and 
 comfort through Christ. Wherefore now I al- 
 tered my preaching, for still I preached what 
 I saw and felt : now therefore I did much labor 
 to hold forth Jesus Christ in all his offices, re- 
 lations, and benefits to the world." We can- 
 not help asking here, What sort of sermons 
 would our audiences now have if, following 
 Bunyan's example, ministers preached just 
 what they felt? 
 
 It must not be supposed that Bunyan's 
 lowly origin and humble occupation rendered 
 him coarse or vulgar, for a refined manner and 
 courteous bearing is sometimes to be found in 
 other circles than those of wealth or high so- 
 cial position. "Never," said one who had the 
 means of knowing, "was a rougher diamond 
 polished into the beauty of holiness. He be- 
 
188 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 came a gentleman too, when lie became a Chris- 
 tian. I have heard men of fine tact apply to 
 him playfully the expression, He not having 
 the law — of good breeding — was a law unto 
 himself; thus showing the work of that law 
 written on his own heart." We discover in 
 the engraved likeness of him an elevation and 
 purity of soul beaming in the eye and from 
 the brow, which exclude all idea of rusticity or 
 coarseness. The very roughness of the orig- 
 inal gem only rendered it the more sparkling 
 after it had been cut and set by Him who 
 "niaketh up his jewels." 
 
 Bunyan's remarkable conversion, taken in 
 connection with his humble origin and occupa- 
 tion, drew no doubt public attention to his 
 preaching. But it is a mistake to suppose that 
 these were the principal attractions. The 
 power to interest all classes — for the high as 
 well as the low flocked to hear him — lay in his 
 strong common-sense, his vivid fancy, and his 
 unquestioned sincerity. His piety, planted in 
 the very depths of his soul, welled up like an 
 overflowing fountain whenever he discoursed 
 on 1 hemes divine. There was also terrible 
 point and directness in his appeals. "Those," 
 says his biographer, "who have read Bunyan's 
 
BEV. JOHN BUNYAN. 189 
 
 sermons, know well how lie could particularize. 
 There is a personality as well as point in his 
 improvements, which makes individuals stand 
 out even to the eye of the reader. We almost 
 expect the strain of the appeal to take a new 
 turn from some pentecostal outcry." 
 
 And here permit me to introduce a single 
 specimen illustrative of the point and lively 
 vigor of his preaching. It is from his sermon 
 to "Jerusalem sinners." Peter is offering sal- 
 vation freely to those who, in Bunyan's own 
 strong language, "had their hands up to the el- 
 bows in his," Jesus', "heart's blood." "Eepent 
 every one of you, for the remission of sins." 
 Unable to credit at once the sincerity of this 
 offer, the first cries out, "But / was one of 
 those that plotted to take away his life. May 
 I he saved?" Peter. "Every one of you." 
 "But I" says another, "was one of those that 
 bore false witness against him. Is there grace 
 for me?" Peter. "For every one of you." 
 "But," says a third, "I was of them that cried 
 out, 'Crucify him, crucify him.' What will 
 become of me, think you?" Peter. "I am to 
 preach remission of sins to every one of you." 
 "But I was one of them," exclaims a fourth, 
 ."that did spit in his face — that mocked him 
 
190 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 when, in anguish, he hung bleeding on the 
 tree. Is there room for me?" Peter. "For 
 every one of you." But this is not all. These 
 Jerusalem sinners must have this offer again 
 and again. Every one of them must be offered 
 grace over and over. What a pitch of grace 
 is this ! Christ was minded to amaze the world. 
 
 "Reasons for this offer: 1. Because the 
 biggest sinners have most need of mercy. 2. 
 Because when they receive such mercy, it re- 
 dounds most to the fame of Christ. 3. Because 
 others, hearing, will be encouraged the more to 
 come to him for life. 4. Because, showing 
 mercy to the worst first, Christ most weakens 
 the kingdom of Satan. 5. Because the biggest 
 sinners, when converted, are usually the best 
 helps in the church. 6. Because such, when 
 converted, are apt to love Christ most. 7. Be- 
 cause by that means the impenitent will be left 
 without excuse at the day of judgment." 
 
 Such is an outline* of a great sermon, whose 
 bold and burning words rang like God's trum- 
 pet through the assembly, and made the sin- 
 ners of that day feel that while those of Jeru- 
 salem, not more hardened than themselves, 
 had the offer of mercy, they too were required 
 to repent and accept the great salvation. 
 
BEV. JOHN BUIYAN. 191 
 
 One more extract: it is "the fruitless pro- 
 fessor." "Come, Death, smite me this barren 
 fig-tree! At this, Death comes into the cham- 
 ber with grim looks, and hell following him to 
 the bedside. Both stare this fruitless professor 
 in the face ; yea, begin to lay hands upon him : 
 one smiting him with headache, heartache, 
 shortness of breath, fainting, qualms, trembling 
 joints, stoppage of the chest, and almost all the 
 symptoms of one past recovery; the other 
 (hell) casting sparks of fire into the mind 
 and conscience. Now he begins to cry, 'Lord, 
 spare me!' 'Nay,' saith God, 'you have been 
 a provocation to me these three years. Take 
 him, Death!' 'Oh, good Lord,' saith the sin- 
 ner, 'spare me this one time, and I will do 
 better.' 'But will you promise to amend?' 
 'Yes, indeed, Lord, and vow it too.' 'Well,' 
 saith God, 'Death, let this professor alone for 
 this time. He hath vowed to amend his ways, 
 and vows are solemn things. It may be he 
 will be afraid to break his vows.' And now 
 God lays down the axe. At this the poor 
 creature is very thankful, and calls on others 
 to thank God." After describing a second 
 interview, in equally dramatic and powerful 
 style, the professor having proved false to his 
 
192 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 vows, God comes to Mm with axe in hand for 
 the last time. "Grod's fury cometh up in his 
 face. He sweareth in his wrath that they shall 
 not enter into his rest. ' Cut it down ; why 
 cumbereth it the ground V " 
 
 These extracts may give some idea of the 
 power which the great allegorist exerted in the 
 pulpit. The imagination, however, must sup- 
 ply the intense fervor, the expression of face 
 and gesture, and the varied intonations of the 
 voice. There can be no doubt that Bunyan 
 was as eloquent in the pulpit as he was attrac- 
 tive with the pen; and that his Pilgrim was 
 but an impersonation of himself — that the epic 
 beauty of his hero was but a just reflection of 
 the real mail-clad soldier of the cross, passing 
 through sufferings to glory. 
 
 He often visited London, "where," says 
 Southey, "his reputation was so great, that if 
 a day's notice was given, the meeting-house at 
 Southwark, at which he generally preached, 
 would not contain half the people. Twelve 
 hundred persons would attend his morning 
 meeting in dark winter-time, and three thou- 
 sand came to attend him at a towns-end meet- 
 ing, where he was fain to be pulled through a 
 back door almost over the people to get to the 
 
EEV. JOHN BUNtfAN. 193 
 
 pulpit. The sermons which he preached at 
 Sinners' Hall were those which led Dr. Owen 
 to say to Charles II., when the king upbraided 
 him for hearing an illiterate tinker prate, 
 'Please your majesty, could I possess that 
 tinker's abilities for preaching, I would most 
 gladly relinquish all my learning.' " 
 
 The secret of Bunyan's power is to be found 
 in a combination of deep, intimate, and exper- 
 imental acquaintance with his own heart, and 
 a thorough knowledge of the Scriptures. Pen- 
 etrating through and illuminating all, was a 
 fancy of the most vigorous and lively kind. 
 It was an atmosphere on which the sunlight of 
 heaven fell and was refracted in a thousand 
 forms of prismatic beauty. Dante's hell was 
 not more dreadful than was Bunyan's "Valley 
 and Shadow of Death," with its pictured gloom 
 and "its goblins damned." Nor was Milton's 
 Paradise a more vivid type of heaven than 
 was Bunyan's land of Beulah, his Delectable 
 Hills, and his dim but glory-tipped pinnacles 
 of the Celestial City. 
 
 Here and there, at long intervals, there is 
 a mind of instinctive genius which would be 
 spoiled by cultivation. Bunyan's, we think, 
 was of this kind. The Saxon strength of his 
 
 Kin quent Preachers. y 
 
194 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 language could not have found any help from 
 either the Greek or the Latin. His rich and 
 powerful imagination, which gave birth to the 
 Pilgrim's Progress, would not have soared so 
 sublimely into the very precincts of heaven, 
 had its wings been bathed in the fountains of 
 Helicon instead of the purer waters of Siloam. 
 But this example of genius without learning, 
 and pulpit power without the training of the 
 schools, is no reason for undervaluing learning 
 or the schools wherein it is obtained. There 
 has been but one Bunyan, as there has been 
 but one Shakspeare. Such geniuses are like 
 angels' visits. I-t would not do to wait for 
 them — scarcely to wish for them. Differing 
 from each other in glory, the stars, even the 
 smallest, are all needed to illuminate the earth 
 and beautify the heavens. Viewing Bunyan's 
 origin, his conversion, his conflicts, his provi- 
 dential discipline, all conspiring to make him 
 so admirable an instrument in God's hand for 
 bringing out and establishing on an immovable 
 basis the experimental philosophy of Christian- 
 ity, we close by saying that the Christian world 
 owes a debt of gratitude not only to the author 
 of the Pilgrim's Progress, but to Him whose 
 inspiration gave him so fine an understanding. 
 
EEV. JAMES SAUEIN. 195 
 
 REV. JAMES SAURIN. 
 
 In 1685 Louis XIV., at the instigation of 
 the Jesuits, revoked the edict of Nantes, by 
 which act eighty thousand Protestants were 
 driven into exile. " A thousand dreadful 
 blows." says Mr. Saurin, " were struck at our 
 afflicted churches before that which destroyed 
 them; for our enemies, if I may use such an 
 expression, not content with seeing our ruin, 
 endeavored to taste it." 
 
 The Saurin family fled to Geneva, and 
 there James, the eloquent preacher at the 
 Hague, was educated. After trying military 
 life for a while, he returned to Geneva, and 
 under the tuition of some of the most celebrat- 
 ed masters, among whom were Pictet and Tur- 
 retin, he completed his theological studies in 
 1700. He then visited Holland and England. 
 In the latter kingdom he staid five years, 
 preaching, with great acceptance, to his fellow- 
 exiles in the city of London. 
 
 It required no Small amount of self-denial 
 for a young man of genius, of high family con- 
 nections, driven from his native home by a 
 
196 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 most relentless persecution, to enter the minis- 
 try, not knowing where to go nor what might 
 befall him. But when the love of Christ moves 
 the heart all considerations of expediency 
 vanish, and the simple and sublime question 
 of duty absorbs and governs the soul. In a 
 brief notice of his consecration to the sacred 
 office, given by the translator of his sermons, 
 there is a just tribute to the lofty self-denial 
 of the young preacher. "To dedicate one's 
 self to the ministry in a wealthy, nourishing 
 church, where rich benefices are every day 
 becoming vacant, requires very little virtue, 
 and sometimes only a strong propensity to 
 vice ; but to choose to be a minister in such a 
 poor, banished, persecuted church as that of 
 the French Protestants, argues a noble con- 
 tempt of the world, and a supreme love to 
 God and to the souls of men. These are the 
 best testimonials, however, of a young minis- 
 ter, whose profession is not to enrich, but to 
 save himself and them who hear him." 
 
 His preaching in London was characterized 
 by great eloquence and power. The general 
 population could not of course appreciate it, 
 since it was addressed to his own countrymen, 
 and in their own language. Remarking on his 
 
REV. JAMES SAURIN. 197 
 
 dress and address, the writer before alluded to 
 says, ' ' The former was that of the French clergy, 
 the. gown and cassock ; the latter was perfectly 
 genteel, a happy compound of the affable and 
 the grave — at an equal distance from rusticity 
 and foppery. His voice was strong, clear, and 
 harmonious, and he never lost the management 
 of it. His style was pure, unaffected, and elo- 
 quent — sometimes plain, and sometimes flowery, 
 but never improper, as it was always adapted 
 to the audience for whose sake he spoke." 
 
 "An Italian acquaintance of mine," says 
 the same writer, "who often heard him at the 
 Hague, tells me that in the introduction of his 
 sermons he used to deliver himself in a tone 
 modest and low. In the body of the sermon, 
 which was adapted to the understanding, he 
 was plain, clear, and argumentative, pausing 
 at the close of each period that he might dis- 
 cover, by the countenance and motions of his 
 hearers, whether they were convinced by his 
 reasoning. In his addresses to the wicked he 
 was often sonorous, but oftener a weeping sup- 
 pliant at their feet. In the one he sustained 
 the authoritative dignity of his office, in the 
 other he expressed his Master's and his own 
 benevolence to bad men, praying them, in 
 
198 ELOQUENT PEEACHEKS. 
 
 Christ's stead, to be reconciled to God. In 
 general his preaching resembled a plentiful 
 shower of dew, softly and imperceptibly insin- 
 uating itself into the minds of his numerous 
 hearers, till the whole church was dissolved 
 and all in tears under his sermons." 
 
 In 1705 he returned to Holland, and being 
 invited by the French refugees who had set- 
 tled at the Hague to become their pastor, he 
 accepted the invitation, and continued his 
 labors among them until he died. The Prince 
 of Orange, who had here a spacious palace, 
 allowed them the use of its chapel as their 
 place of worship, where, every Sunday, Sau- 
 rin's ministry was attended by a crowded and 
 brilliant audience. Not only was he here lis- 
 tened to with* the utmost attention and plea- 
 sure, but the effects of his ministerial labors 
 were seen in the holy lives of great numbers of 
 his people. 
 
 His interview with Queen Caroline, then 
 Princess of Wales, is worth relating, not so 
 much as a matter of condescension on the part 
 of royalty as for the noble testimony which 
 she bore to an all-governing Providence. In 
 a levee, where many of the clergy were paying 
 their respects to her royal highness, then on 
 
REV. JAMES SAURIN. 199 
 
 her way to England, she singled out Mr. Sau- 
 rin, and addressed him as follows: "Do not 
 imagine that, being dazzled with the glory 
 which this revolution seems to promise me, I 
 have lost sight of that God from whom it pro- 
 ceeds. He hath been pleased to distinguish it 
 with so many extraordinary marks, that I can- 
 not mistake his divine hand ; and as I consider 
 this long train of favors as immediately com- 
 ing from him, to him alone I consecrate them." 
 The same royal lady wrote, requesting Saurin 
 to prepare a treatise on the Education of Princes, 
 which he did to her entire satisfaction. 
 
 At this distant date all the means we have 
 for judging of the pulpit power of this eminent 
 divine are the few hints already quoted, to- 
 gether with his published sermons. The lat- 
 ter extend through twelve volumes, and are 
 regarded by ministers as among the sublimest 
 discussions and illustrations of inspired truth. 
 There is a simple grandeur in Saurin which 
 we meet with nowhere else. More brilliant 
 flashes of genius may be found in Jeremy 
 Taylor, a more majestic march of sentences in 
 Chalmers, a more compact and classic style in 
 Hall, and bolder personifications in the impas- 
 sioned Whitefield ; but for the clear, onflowing 
 
200 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 current of thought that bears clown every thing 
 before it, none can exceed this master of pul- 
 pit eloquence. Like a river that rolls deep 
 and impetuous until it loses itself in the vast 
 ocean, his train of thought and reasoning, en- 
 livened by occasional flashes of eloquence, ever 
 tends to one grand issue — namely, the illus- 
 tration" of the divine majesty and glory in the 
 wondrous work of redemption. We give a few 
 brief extracts. He is on the insufficiency of 
 earth to satisfy the soul's desires. 
 
 "Nature is too indigent. It may indeed 
 afford us a temperate air, an earth enamelled 
 with flowers, trees laden with fruits, and cli- 
 mates rich with delights; but all its present 
 beauties are inadequate to the love of God ; 
 and there must be another world, another 
 economy, a new heaven and a new earth. 
 Our faculties are too indigent. They might 
 indeed admit abundant pleasures; for we are 
 capable of knowing, and God could gratify our 
 desire of knowledge. We are capable of 
 agreeable sensations, and God is able to give 
 us objects proportionable to our sensations ; 
 but all these gratifications would be too little 
 to express the love of God to us. Our facul- 
 ties must be renewed, and in some sense new 
 
EEV. JAMES SAURIN. 201 
 
 cast ; the natural body must become a spiritual 
 body, so that by means of more delicate or- 
 gans we may enjoy more exquisite pleasures. 
 Society is too indigent ; although society might 
 become an ocean of pleasure to us. There are 
 men whose friendships are full of charms, and 
 G-od is able to place us among such amiable 
 characters in this world; but society hath 
 nothing great enough to express the love of 
 God to us. We must be introduced to the 
 society of glorified saints, and to thousands of 
 angels and happy spirits, who are capable of 
 more " magnanimity and delicacy than all that 
 we can imagine here. Religion itself is too in- 
 digent, although it might open to us a source 
 of delight. Yet even religion can afford noth- 
 ing here below that can sufficiently express 
 the love of God to us. We must be admitted 
 into that state in which there is neither temple 
 nor sun, because God supplieth the place of 
 both. We are to behold God, not surrounded 
 with such a handful of people as this, but with 
 thousand thousands and ten thousand times 
 ten thousand, who stand continually before 
 him. We must see God, not in the display of 
 his grace in our churches, but in all the mag- 
 nificence of his glory in heaven. From what 
 
 9*- 
 
202 ELOQUENT PKEACHEBS. 
 
 sources do those rivers of pleasure flow? It 
 is love which lays up all this goodness for us. 
 
 "Let us meditate on the love of God, who, 
 being. supremely happy himself, communicateth 
 perfect happiness to us. Supreme happiness 
 doth not make God forget us ; shall the miser- 
 able comforts of this life make us forget him ? 
 Our attachments to this life are so strong, the 
 acquaintances we have contracted in this world 
 so many, and the relations' we bear so tender, 
 we are, in a word, so habituated to live, that 
 we need not wonder if it cost us a good deal 
 to be willing to die. But this attachment to 
 life which, when it proceeds only to a certain 
 degree, is a sinless infirmity, becomes one of 
 the most criminal dispositions when it exceeds 
 its just limits. It is not right that the objects 
 of divine love should lose sight of their chief 
 good in a world where, after their best en- 
 deavors, there will be too many obstacles be- 
 tween them and God. It is not right that 
 rational creatures, who have heard of the 
 pure, extensive, and munificent love of God 
 to them, should be destitute of the most ar- 
 dent desires of a closer reunion to him than 
 any that can be attained in this life. One 
 single moment's delay should give us pain; 
 
EEV. JAMES SAUEIN. 203 
 
 and if we wish to live, it should be ouly to 
 prepare to die." 
 
 Such thoughts as the above show that he 
 who uttered them must have had his conver- 
 sation in heaven, and must have known what 
 it is to be " crucified to the world. 77 It is spir- 
 itual eloquence. It is the echo of Paul 7 s im- 
 patient but triumphant declaration, " I have 
 a desire to depart, and to be with Christ." He 
 speaks to us as from a higher atmosphere, say- 
 ing, " Come up hither. 77 Like the transfigura- 
 tion scene, the glory and brightness are such 
 that they ravish, while at the same time they 
 confound us. Saurin 7 s eloquence has much of 
 the aroma of heaven. It seems laden with the 
 balm of the tree of life, and regales the sym- 
 pathies of the sonl as odoriferous plants do the 
 senses of the body. He is more of a Barnabas 
 than a Boanerges. Love is the more natural 
 atmosphere than terror, and his tears flow more 
 frequently over man 7 s misery, than do his 
 threatenings over man 7 s guilt. Profound and 
 even sublime as are some of his discourses, yet 
 the gentle element of love, like a transparent 
 veil, is spread over all, giving a softened aspect 
 to truths which might otherwise seem harsh or 
 repulsive. 
 
204 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON* 
 
 If Saurin may be regarded as a fine type 
 of the Protestant clergy of France, Massillon, 
 with equal justice, may represent the flower of 
 the Papal ministry. As pulpit orators, it might 
 be difficult to decide which of these eminent 
 divines should bear the palm. Differing some- 
 what in their mental character, they yet pos- 
 sessed some traits in common. They were 
 both extremely sensitive in their nervous 
 structure. They were wholly absorbed in the 
 duties of their profession. Both seemed obliv- 
 ious of self, and intent only on the promotion 
 of religion and the salvation of souls. They 
 rose above the fear of man, and sought only to 
 approve themselves in the sight of God. But 
 Saurin was an exile, while Massillon was the 
 court preacher, and for a time the admired of 
 all admirers. Louis XIV. expelled Saurin 
 from the kingdom, but sat down at the feet of 
 Massillon, declaring, with truth no doubt, that 
 "while other preachers made him think highly 
 of their characters, Massillon sent him away 
 dissatisfied with his own. 11 What a pity that 
 
JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. 205 
 
 his dissatisfaction never ripened into peni- 
 tence ! The convenient season with him, as 
 with another tyrant, never seemed to arrive. 
 
 Massillon was of lowly origin. "The ob- 
 scurity of his birth," says D'Alembert, ''should 
 be the first topic of his praise ; and it may be 
 said of him, as of that illustrious Koman who 
 owed nothing to his ancestors : He was the 
 son of himself alone." He entered, at the age 
 of seventeen, into the oratory, to prepare him- 
 self for the high and sacred duties of the most 
 noble of professions. It was soon evident to 
 his teachers that his talents pointed him out as 
 a great preacher, and they predicted for him 
 a celebrity which his subsequent career not 
 only realized, but exceeded. By nature ex- 
 cessively modest — by grace more than modest, 
 truly and evangelically humble, he shrunk 
 from the notoriety to which his brilliant tal- 
 ents necessarily exposed him. Alarmed at his 
 own popularity, and feeling within himself the 
 suggestions of vanity, he determined, as he 
 said, "to escape from the demon of pride." 
 Accordingly he buried himself in the abbey 
 of Sept Fons, taking the habit and following 
 out all the rigid austerities of the brethren of 
 La Trappe. 
 
206 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 A circumstance, seemingly fortuitous, called 
 him out of this monkish solitude, and obliged 
 him to return to the great theatre of Parisian 
 life. The cardinal of Noailles, who had dis- 
 covered this gem buried in the distant abbey, 
 determined to bring it out and polish it for 
 a higher destiny. He summoned Massillon 
 to come to him, and placing him in the Semi- 
 nary of St. Magloire at Paris, he exhorted him 
 to cultivate pulpit eloquence. Ever obedient 
 to his superiors, Massillon took this course. 
 Here he perfected himself in the divine art, 
 and when he resumed the pulpit, his very first 
 sermons electrified the hearers and eclipsed all 
 the most popular preachers of that day. 
 
 Massillon struck out for himself a new path. 
 He determined not to preach according to the 
 then reigning taste of the French pulpit, The 
 preachers most popular and of the greatest 
 celebrity, such as Bourdaloue and Bossuet, had 
 dealt in sacred logic and profound research, 
 giving food to the intellect, rather than feeling 
 to the heart. Massillon determined at once to 
 storm the citadel. He assumed that men 
 needed to have the conscience roused, rather 
 than the reason convinced ; that their innate 
 sense of religious obligation needed stirring to 
 
JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. 207 
 
 a greater power of self-condemnation. In one 
 word, that repentance, true sorrow for sin, was 
 the first step in a religious life. He saw in all 
 around hiin, from the monarch to the meanest 
 of his subjects, the entire reign of pride and 
 sensuality. "What men needed was conviction 
 of sin, conversion of heart. These emotions 
 could be produced, not by appeals to the in- 
 tellect, but by carrying the light of G-od's sim- 
 ple truth into the dark and disordered soul. 
 He determined therefore to explore and ana- 
 lyze the motives, the passions, and the princi- 
 ples of human nature, and show how at vari- 
 ance they were with the law of God and the 
 purity of the gospel. He determined also to 
 draw men to the cross, and make them see 
 that, while they might well despair of salva- 
 tion in view of their own depraved character 
 and conduct, yet, by faith in the great Sacri- 
 fice, there was hope for even the chief of sin- 
 ners. 
 
 Such were the views of this great preacher, 
 and in carrying them out, all Paris seemed to 
 recognize their truth and their efficiency. 
 Such was the plan of Massillon, and he exe- 
 cuted it like one who had conceived it ; that 
 is, like a master. He excels in that part of 
 
208 ELOQUENT PREACHEKS. 
 
 oratory which may stand instead of all the 
 rest — that eloquence which goes right to the 
 soul, but which agitates without confounding, 
 appalls without crushing, penetrates without 
 lacerating it. He goes to the bottom of the 
 heart in search of those hidden folds in which 
 the passions are enwrapped, those secret soph- 
 isms which they so artfully employ to blind 
 and seduce us. 
 
 Dealing thus in the deep principles and 
 passions which sway the universal heart, Mas- 
 sillon was listened to with interest by all 
 classes. The rich and the poor, the nobility 
 and the plebeian, all recognized his power, as 
 from the sacred desk he showed them their 
 corruption of heart and life, the obligation of 
 repentance, and pointed out to them the cross, 
 the only hope which God had set before them. 
 It was this kind of preaching which called to- 
 gether such crowds, and which, delivered in 
 tones of thrilling eloquence, not unmingled 
 with tears, drew them at times from their 
 seats, and obliged them to ask the great ques- 
 tion, What must we do to be saved ? 
 
 Preaching on the occasion of the death of 
 the Dauphin, the introduction of his discourse 
 was said to be the most impressive and affect- 
 
JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. 209 
 
 ing ever . heard on a similar occasion. The 
 cathedral was hung in black and lighted dimly 
 by tapers. At the foot of the high altar lay, 
 enshrouded in funeral pomp, the smitten hope 
 of the empire. The triumph of death could 
 not have been more complete. Ascending the 
 pulpit with solemn air, and surveying in si- 
 lence the mortal remains of the Dauphin, he 
 broke the awful stillness with these words: 
 "There is none great but God." At the in- 
 stant, the whole audience in tears arose and 
 bowed towards the altar. 
 
 As court preacher, Massillon had a difficult 
 and delicate task to perform. He must min- 
 gle respect with fidelity. Without flattering 
 the vanity, he must rebuke the vices of roy- 
 alty. With a due regard to forms, he must 
 not withhold the stern mandates of Jehovah. 
 Making allowance for human weakness and 
 difference of position, he must deliver God's 
 commands to the high as well as to the low. 
 How he discharged this duty may be known 
 by what D'Alembert has said of the exordium 
 of his first discourse before Louis XIV., who 
 was then in the zenith of his power and glory, 
 and admired by all Europe, adored by his 
 subjects, intoxicated with adulation and sati- 
 
210 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 # ated with homage. Massillon took for his text 
 
 l c* v 
 
 a passage of Scripture apparently least applica- 
 ble to such a prince: "Blessed are they that 
 mourn." " Sire," said he, " if the world were 
 here speaking of your majesty, it would not 
 address you with, Blessed are they that mourn. 
 Blessed, would it say, the prince who never 
 fought but to conquer ; who has filled the uni- 
 verse with his name ; who, in the course of a 
 long and flourishing reign, has enjoyed with 
 splendor all that men admire — the greatness 
 of his conquests, the love of his people, the 
 esteem of his enemies, the wisdom of his laws. 
 But, sire, the gospel speaks not as the world 
 speaks." 
 
 Massillon's manner was comparatively qui- 
 et, though intensely earnest and sympathetic. 
 He made a few gestures, and usually spoke 
 from memory. But his whole soul was deeply 
 moved by the lofty sentiments or the faithful 
 warnings which he uttered; and communicat- 
 ing his own emotions to his hearers, he wielded 
 their passions at his will, awakening terrible 
 convictions, or drawing from eyes unaccus- 
 tomed to weep the tears of contrition. His 
 whole air and manner, it is said, impressed the 
 beholder with the idea of great personal holi- 
 
JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. 211 
 
 ness, and prepared the way for that candid and 
 courteous bearing which men never fail to give 
 to the upright and the sincere. "His action," 
 remarks D'Alembert, "was perfectly suited to 
 his species of eloquence. On entering the pul- 
 pit, he appeared thoroughly penetratecf with 
 .the truths he was about to utter. With eyes 
 declined, a modest and collected air, animat- 
 ing the whole discourse with a voice of sensi- 
 bility, he diffused over the audience the relig- 
 ious emotion which his own exterior proclaim- 
 ed, and caused himself to be listened to with 
 that profound silence by which eloquence is 
 better praised than by the loudest applauses." 
 Modest and humble as Massillon was, obliv- 
 ious of self, and seemingly almost unconscious 
 wherein his great power as an orator consisted, 
 yet his popularity drew upon him the usual 
 venom of disappointed rivals. Efforts were 
 made to cast a shade upon his character, to 
 banish him from the metropolis, and to bury 
 him in the obscurity of a distant bishopric. 
 Unjust as this treatment was, he was not un- 
 willing to retire from the glare and grandeur 
 of Parisian life, and he found more real happi- 
 ness in feeding his humble flock at Clermont, 
 than in listening to the praises of congregated 
 
212 ELOQUENT PEEACHERS. 
 
 thousands at Notre Dame. Never was there* 
 a parochial charge where greater wisdom and 
 beneficence were exhibited on the part of the 
 incumbent, or where greater reverence and 
 gratitude were felt and manifested on the part 
 of the parishioners. "His diocese," says his 
 biographer, "preserves the remembrance of 
 his deeds after thirty years, and his memory 
 is daily honored with the most eloquent of 
 funeral orations — those of the tears of a hun- 
 dred thousand distressed objects. During his 
 lifetime he had anticipated this testimony. 
 When he appeared in the streets of Clermont, 
 the people prostrated themselves before him, 
 crying, 'Long live our father!'" 
 
 The sermons of this great pulpit orator are 
 read even now with great delight. Deeper 
 revelations of the human heart, or warmer ex- 
 patiations on the love of God, can be found 
 nowhere else. They literally glow with the 
 combined radiance of piety and of genius. We 
 feel their author's spirit as we read. Though 
 transplanted from a warm and genial, because 
 natural bed, to a colder and more rigid soil, 
 yet do these floral beauties retain much of their 
 gracefulness and their perfume. Massillon is 
 an example of the power of emotional preach- 
 
JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON. 213 
 
 • 
 
 ing. He dealt, as we have said, with the heart. 
 His reasonings were less to illustrate the theory 
 than to enforce the practice of religion. He as- 
 sumed that, while the judgment and conscience 
 were on the side of God and duty, the selfish 
 and sensual passions stood out against their 
 claims. These he aimed to expose and batter 
 down. And where is there a pulpit orator who 
 had greater power in these respects ? Let his 
 example teach others. Instead of slow ap- 
 proaches to the resisting mind by processes of 
 reasoning, let us carry the convictions of the 
 understanding by first assailing the conscience 
 and the heart. Easier far is it to bring over 
 the judgment, after the affections are moved, 
 than to move the affections by first convincing 
 the understanding. Without carrying this idea 
 to an extreme, we do think, if more would 
 preach like Massillon, as to aim and object, 
 even though not as eloquently hurling the ar- 
 rows of truth directly at the heart, than like 
 Barrow or Emmons commending religion by 
 the beauty of its theory and the reasonableness 
 of its claims, we should soon see a new and 
 deeper impulse flowing from the pulpit, and a 
 more tender and yielding acquiescence in those 
 who sit beneath its teachings. 
 
214 # ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 MARTIN LUTHER. 
 
 If Wickliffe was the morning star of the 
 Reformation, Luther was its sun — full-orbed 
 and glorious. No name stands higher on the 
 heraldic legends of the past. The whole Prot- 
 estant world pronounces it with reverence. 
 Even his enemies concede his greatness, while 
 they attempt to disparage his virtues. But 
 Luther is known as a reformer rather than as 
 a preacher ; and even in the latter capacity 
 we usually imagine him fulminating against 
 the dogmas of Rome, rather than feeding the 
 flock of Christ. But we do him injustice by 
 associating him so entirely with the church 
 militant. Never was there a more powerful 
 preacher, never one more eloquent and per- 
 suasive. He was a natural orator. We re- 
 member a classical maxim, " Poeta nascitur, 
 orator fit;" but we think the elements which 
 constitute the true orator are as dependent on 
 native genius as is the inspiration of the true 
 poet. In both cases education may improve, 
 but cannot create the character. There must 
 be light and heat, knowledge and sensibility, 
 

 I 
 

MAETIN LUTHER. 215 
 
 or there can be no true oratory. The soul 
 that kindles, the eye that flashes, the mind 
 that seizes and grasps the thought, the speech 
 that gives that thought its most forcible ex- 
 pression, these are the elements of oratory, 
 secular or sacred, and these Luther had in an 
 eminent degree. 
 
 "His parents," says Melancthon, "took 
 especial care in their daily instructions to 
 educate their son in the knowledge and fear ot 
 God, and in a sense of his duty. The youth 
 soon displayed great talents, and particularly 
 an inclination to eloquence. With great ease 
 he surpassed his school-fellows in copiousness 
 of language, both in prose and verse; and if 
 he had been so fortunate as to have met with 
 suitable teachers, his great capacity would 
 have enabled «feim to go through all the 
 sciences." His father intended him for the 
 law, but Martin preferred the cloister. His 
 deep religious feeling sought the congenial at- 
 mosphere of the monastic habit, and he chose 
 the order of St. Augustine, as marked by a 
 higher devotion and a more rigid self-denial 
 than were found in some of the other monas- 
 teries. 
 
 Not satisfied with the dialectics of the 
 
216 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 schools — Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas — Lu- 
 ther groped around the musty library at Erfurt 
 until his hand fell upon an old Latin Bible. 
 God had put it there expressly for him. His 
 path had been dark, and his feet had stum- 
 bled. Here was a light unto his feet and a 
 lamp unto his path. He seized the treasure, 
 pressed it to his heart, and thenceforward be- 
 came the champion of the Reformation. 
 
 But educated as Luther had been to abso- 
 lute submission to the hierarchy, his first move- 
 ment was simply to raise his own spiritual 
 temper to the gospel standard. The instru- 
 ment must be fitted for the work. Terrible 
 conflicts with his own heart must precede the 
 successful attacks upon papal corruptions. He 
 must know in his own spul what was needed. 
 The rotten foundation must £ive way under 
 him. He must set his own feet firmly on the 
 rock, before he can assail and demolish the 
 vain subterfuges of popery! This experience 
 he gained by a nearer contact with Rome, 
 visiting the headquarters of corruption, and 
 seeing with his own eyes the chambers of im- 
 agery. Here it was, ascending on his knees 
 the "Scala Santa," he heard a voice from his 
 Latin Bible saying, "This is not the way of 
 
MAKTIN LUTHER. 217 
 
 justification. ' The just shall live by faith.' " 
 He trembled, and turned his eyes upon the 
 cross. Having gained light, he returned to 
 his home to diffuse it. He saw into the delu- 
 sions by which the popular mind was deceived 
 and the souls of the people destroyed. His 
 war upon indulgences broke out more from 
 hatred of error than from opposition to Rome. 
 He was still a sincere Romanist, so far as papal 
 authority and the decrees of councils were con- 
 cerned ; but when Rome undertook to endorse 
 the mission of Tetzel, and by a necessary con- 
 sequence to put down all who inveighed against 
 the sale of indulgences, his spirit was stirred 
 within him, as was Paul's in vjew of the Athe- 
 nian idolatries. Thenceforward he took his 
 stand against "the mother of abominations." 
 
 The career of this wonderful man has been 
 by many competent and by some very elo- 
 quent writers minutely described. Indeed 
 few there are who are ignorant of the events 
 with which his name is associated. He was 
 an acknowledged instrument of God in the 
 great work assigned him. Unconscious in the 
 preparation, he was so in the inception, the 
 progress* and the completion. But the quali- 
 ties of the man were essential to the prosecu- 
 
 Eloquent Preaehem. 1 
 
218 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 tion of the work. With less iron vigor he 
 would have fainted, with less courage he would 
 have succumbed, with less conscientiousness 
 he would have compromised. His frame and 
 figure were almost leonine. His piercing eye, 1 
 his voice, sweet when low, but when raised to 
 high, impassioned utterances, breaking in thun- 
 der peals, gave one the idea of a sort of pulpit 
 Jupiter. Maimbourg the Jesuit describes him 
 as "possessing a quick and penetrating genius, 
 remarkably strong and healthy, with a san- 
 guine bilious temperament. His eyes were 
 piercing and full of fire, his voice sweet but 
 vehement when once fairly raised. He had a 
 stern countenance, and though most intrepid 
 and high spirited, he could assume the appear- 
 ance of modesty and humility whenever he 
 pleased, which, however, was not often the 
 case." Yarillas, a celebrated French histo- 
 rian, speaks of Luther as follows: "This Au- 
 gustine monk united in his single person all 
 the good and all the bad qualities of the hie- 
 rarchy of his time. To robustness, health, and 
 industry of a German, nature seems to have 
 added the spirit and vivacity of an Italian. 
 Nobody exceeded him in philosophy £nd scho- 
 lastic theology, nobody equalled him in the 
 
MARTIN LUTHER. 219 
 
 art of speaking. He was a most perfect mas- 
 ter of eloquence. He had completely discov- 
 ered where lay the strength or the weakness 
 of the human mind, and accordingly he knew 
 how to render his attacks successful. How- 
 ever various and discordant might be the pas- 
 sions of his audience, he could manage them to 
 his own purposes, for he presently saw the 
 ground on which they stood ; and even if the 
 subject was too difficult for much argument, he 
 carried his point by popular illustration and 
 the use of figures. In ordinary conversations 
 he displayed the same power over the affec- 
 tions which he had so often demonstrated in 
 the professional chair and the pulpit. No 
 man, either of his own time or since, spoke or 
 wrote the German language, or understood its 
 niceties better than Luther. Often, when he 
 had made his first impression by bold strokes 
 of eloquence, or by a bewitching pleasantry of 
 conversation, he completed his triumphs by 
 the eloquence of his G-erman style." 
 
 Such is the account of Luther by the ene- 
 mies of the Reformation ; and if to these con- 
 cessions, there be added the usual aspersions 
 on his character', we need not disbelieve the 
 former, because we may reasonably suspect 
 
220 ELOQUENT PBEACHEBS. 
 
 the motives of the latter. From all that ap- 
 pears then, Luther was mighty in word as well 
 as in deed. He possessed the elements of 
 greatness, whether we regard his character 
 simply, or what can hardly be separated from 
 his character, his intellectual -vigor, and his 
 profound learning. In his mind there was an 
 adaptation to the very genius of his, native 
 language. Bold, terse, expressive, simple, it 
 needed for its highest development just such 
 an intellect, combined with just such a high 
 impassioned soul, and it never exhibited its 
 ^othic grandeur before or since on a more 
 massive foundation. 
 
 We entirely mistake if we view Luther in 
 the light simply of a great controvertist, as- 
 sailing with ponderous logic the ramparts of 
 the Romish hierarchy. True, he was from 
 necessity pushed into the front rank, and be- 
 came the rallying point of the great Protestant 
 cause ; but he was, nevertheless, a man of the 
 people. He excelled not more in silencing the 
 proud advocates of the papacy than in his 
 sway over the popular heart. If the one had 
 reason to fear him, the other had no less rea- 
 son to admire and love him. He was the man 
 for the masses. Crowding the cathedrals where 
 
MARTIN LUTHER. 221 
 
 he preached, they hung upon his lips in breath- 
 less silence, and received his appeals as the 
 soldiers of an army receive the call of their 
 favorite general to arms. Every man stood 
 ready to follow Luther to victory or to the 
 stake. Since the apostle Paul's day never 
 had the cause of truth a more fearless or a 
 more eloquent champion. His journey to 
 Worms, where awaited him in state grandeur 
 the emperor and Rome's haughty nuncio, was 
 that of a conqueror rather than of a culprit. 
 It was paved, every step of it, with popular 
 benedictions. The people seemed almost ready 
 to kiss the very ground on which he trod. 
 And while at Worms, Luthejr was a sort of 
 sovereign. His hotel was thronged with ad- 
 miring crowds, and the whole heart of Ger- 
 many pulsated with sympathy in his behalf. 
 It would be hard to find in history a sublimer 
 scene than was witnessed when the Augustine 
 monk, with the banner of Frederick the- Wise 
 floating over his head, appeared in that Diet, 
 to vindicate God's truth against the most sub- 
 tle and powerful imposture that the world has 
 ever seen. Thus it was when Paul in chains 
 appeared before Agrippa and Felix, or when 
 Huss stood up for Christ, with the flames of 
 
222 ELOQUENT PKEACHEKS. 
 
 martyrdom roaring in his ears. Here was 
 the young emperor, canopied in crimson, with 
 power to bind or to loose ; and here were the 
 representatives of Rome, vieing in grandeur 
 with Charles himself, and overawing even him 
 with the slumbering thunders of the Vatican. 
 Here also were gathered the nobles of the em- 
 pire, with sympathies for or against the accus- 
 ed, while crowds of the excited populace were 
 thronging the avenues of the place, and await- 
 ing in breathless anxiety the issue of the con- 
 troversy. Luther was calm. God was his 
 refuge and strength. He knew the ground on 
 which he stood. He knew the weakness of 
 his adversaries-^-weak, not in talents, but in 
 the cause which they supported. We cannot 
 omit a few sentences of his memorable speech. 
 It shows the man. It was delivered first in 
 German, afterwards in Latin. "I stand here 
 in obedience to ihe commands of. his most 
 serene imperial majesty and the most illus- 
 trious princes, and I earnestly entreat them 
 that they would deign to listen to this cause 
 with clemency. It will appear, I trust, to be 
 the cause of truth and justice ; and therefore if, 
 through ignorance, I should fail to give proper 
 titles to each of the dignified personages who 
 
MAETIN LUTHER. 223 
 
 hear me, or if in any other respect I should 
 show myself defective in politeness, they will 
 be pleased to accept my apology with candor. 
 I have not been accustomed to the refinements 
 of the court, but to the cloisters of the monas- 
 tery ; nor of myself have I any thing further 
 to say, than that hitherto I have read lectures 
 and composed books with that simplicity of 
 mind which only regards the glory of God and 
 the instruction of mankind." 
 
 . Such are the introductory words of an ad- 
 dress which consumed about two hours in the 
 delivery. It produced an overwhelming im- 
 pression. The papal legate turned pale under 
 it. The pliant and politic Charles wrote out 
 his verdict against it; but all Germany said 
 Amen to it. It was the triumph of reason and 
 of eloquence. The very foundations of Rome 
 shook under it. Had not Frederick secured 
 the promise of safe conduct to Luther, he 
 would no doubt have been disposed of by the 
 vengeful and mortified delegates of the hie- 
 rarchy. But God was his refuge, and covered 
 his head in the day of battle. 
 
 We have alluded to the scene at Worms 
 partly to show Luther's power as an orator 
 and his courage as a Christian hero. But it 
 
224 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 would not be doing justice to this good man if 
 we merged his qualities as a preacher in his 
 celebrity as a reformer. "His heart," says 
 Milner, "was not in these noisy and conten- 
 tious scenes. Instruction of youth in divinity 
 and preaching the gospel of Christ he consid- 
 ered as his proper business. He used to la- 
 ment the peculiar infelicity of the age, by 
 which he was obliged to waste in controver- 
 sies so many hours that might have been bet- 
 ter employed in guiding souls into the way of 
 salvation." 
 
 This shows on what his heart was set. He 
 loved the pulpit more than the controversial 
 platform, and was happier in dispensing the 
 word than in defeating his theological oppo- 
 nents. How beautifully he commences one of 
 his sermons. It was on his return to his flock 
 at Wittemburg. "My presence among my 
 people is absolutely necessary. I must live 
 with them ; I must talk to them ; I must hear 
 them speak ; I must guide them, and do them 
 all the good I can. They are my children in 
 Christ, and my conscience will not permit me 
 to be absent from them any longer." Having 
 made this apology to the Elector for his sudden 
 departure from Wartburg, he begins his dis- 
 
MAETIN LUTHEE. 225 
 
 course as follows: "I am allowed to sound the 
 gospel in your ears once more.- By and by 
 death will come, and then we can do one an- 
 other no good. How necessary therefore is it, 
 that every individual should be furnished with 
 the principles which are to support him in that 
 awful hour. These principles are the great doc- 
 trines of Christianity, and by treasuring them 
 up in your memories, you will act like wise 
 men, and be fortified against the attacks of the 
 enemy." He then gives a condensed view of 
 the great doctrines of the gospel, and con- 
 cludes with these noble sentiments: "This 
 same word of Grod has given such a blow to 
 papal despotism as not one of the German 
 princes — not even the emperor himself — could 
 have done. It is not /; I repeat it, it is the 
 divine word which has done every thing. 
 Had it been right to aim at a reform by vio- 
 lence and tumults, it would have been easy 
 for me to deluge Germany with blood. Nay, 
 had I been in the least inclined to promote 
 sedition, it was in my power when I was at 
 Worms to endanger the safety of even the* 
 emperor himself. The devil smiles in secret 
 when men pretend to support religion by sedi- 
 tious tumults ; but he is cut to the heart when 
 
 10* 
 
226 ELOQUENT PEEAOHEES. 
 
 he sees them, in faith and patience, rely on 
 the written word." 
 
 How admirable are such sentiments, show- 
 ing not only that Luther was the farthest from 
 fanaticism, but that he was oblivious of self. 
 His whole soul was swallowed up in the pro- 
 motion of Christ's kingdom. To this sublime 
 end he devoted all his talents, his zeal, and 
 his learning. To accomplish it he hazarded 
 his reputation and his life — confronting the 
 imperial will and the indomitable hatred of 
 Rome. He gave his days and nights to study, 
 translating the whole Bible into German, and 
 leaving it as the most precious legacy to his 
 countrymen. He was especially the favorite 
 of the people. His stormy, stirring, ofttimes 
 overwhelming eloquence carried captive every 
 heart, and made him the most beloved, as he 
 was the most popular preacher in Germany. 
 Like Peter in ardor, like Paul in zeal and 
 learning, and like John in the overflowing af- 
 fection of his Christian heart, he seemed to 
 combine in his character the virtues of these 
 great leaders of primitive Christianity. But 
 we claim not for him the virtues without the 
 weaknesses of those sainted men. We admit 
 that, he was irritable — as men of such strong 
 
MAKTIN LUTHEK. 227 
 
 traits of character are apt to be — also perhaps 
 that he indulged too much his propensity to 
 humor; yet if no other delinquency can be 
 charged upon him, we think that even his 
 most virtuous censors can scarcely be justified 
 in casting the first stone. For ourselves, we 
 admire* that sacred hilarity in Luther, lighting 
 up the cloister, and shedding a radiance around 
 the social conclave. With work such as he 
 had to do, carrying in his troubled, anxious 
 bosom a mountain weight of care and anxiety, 
 it was merciful, as it was needful, that he 
 should be endowed with the sunshine of a 
 mirthful and buoyant spirit. Irritable ! Who 
 could have been composed when Herods were 
 mocking and Pharisees were scorning, and 
 even professed friends were calling upon him 
 to save himself and let the truth go ? We par- 
 don his ebullitions, knowing that for the most 
 part they were a sort of protest against cow- 
 ardice and selfish cunning. But in Luther we 
 discover, as the moral battle goes on, more 
 faith and less human feeling, more calm confi- 
 dence and less perturbation. At length we 
 see the stormy passions subsiding into a gen- 
 tle, childlike meekness and patience, that char- 
 acterized him under the greatest bodily agony, 
 
228 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 until death closed the scene and the suffering. 
 He had fought the good fight, and finished his 
 course. Farewell, brave soldier of the cross. 
 The victories of truth over error, in which 
 thou didst bear so conspicuous a part, are re- 
 sounding on our harps still ; and far distant be 
 the day when they shall cease to awaken our 
 gratitude, or to employ, our songs. 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 229 
 
 THE APOSTLE PAUL. 
 
 To close the catalogue of eloquent divines 
 with a venerated apostle may seem at first 
 view like placing a ladder between earth and 
 heaven. But we do not propose to bring down 
 the inspired teacher to a level with the unin- 
 spired. We only wish to give the character- 
 istics of that power as a preacher, which distin- 
 guished him even from his inspired colaborers ; 
 and which, together with his high moral qual- 
 ities, render him for all time the great exem- 
 plar of the Christian ministry. In this view, 
 we think Saint Paul ought to close and crown 
 the honored list. 
 
 Though an inspired apostle, Paul's power 
 as a preacher was intimately connected with 
 the natural and cultivated qualities of his mind 
 and heart. "In a great house, there are ves- 
 sels of wood and of stone," which have their 
 uses. "There are also vessels of gold and of 
 silver," fitted for a higher ministration. Paul 
 was one of the latter. 
 
 He was born and nursed in one of the most 
 polished cities of the empire. Thence, at an 
 
230 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 early age, he was sent to the metropolis of the 
 Jews, where the schools of the prophets offered 
 the best advantages for ecclesiastical culture. 
 His master was the most renowned of the rab- 
 bins. At his feet he became versed in all the 
 Hebrew lore which ages had accumulated, and 
 in all the traditions which long centuries had 
 transmitted. The scholar was worthy of the 
 master. His original endowments were of the 
 highest order, combining in one mind the va- 
 ried attributes which are usually distributed 
 among many. 
 
 The conversion of this eminent man was 
 one of the great events in the early history of 
 Christianity. Such a mind as his, such a tem- 
 perament, such relations as he sustained to 
 the Roman government and to the Jewish re- 
 ligion — his age, his energy, his indomitable 
 spirit, all conspire to stamp his conversion as 
 the great event of primitive times. Not only 
 was that age interested and influenced, but all 
 ages; not only the world as it then was, but 
 the world now and for ever. Such an example 
 lives. Such writings live. Such a spirit lives. 
 They can never die — never. 
 
 The persecution which drove the disciples 
 out of Jerusalem poured the light of the gospel 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 231 
 
 upon the isles of the Levant and upon the 
 cities of Asia Minor. Antioch became the 
 centre of Christian influence ; so that, if Judea 
 was the birthplace of Christianity, Antioch 
 may be called its cradle. Here the church 
 entrenched itself under the labors of Paul and 
 Barnabas. The sacred name of its founder 
 was written on it indelibly. The disciples 
 were called Christians first at Antioch. We 
 will not stop to inquire by whom this name 
 was suggested ; whether by enemies as a term 
 of reproach, or by friends as the highest title 
 of honor; but we hold in sweet remembrance 
 a city where the banner bearing on it that glo- 
 rious name was first unfurled, the sure pledge 
 of strength to suffer and strength to conquer. 
 
 From this moral citadel Paul went forth 
 on his first great mission as a preacher to the 
 Gentiles. He plunged at once into the very 
 centre of heathenish corruptions. He struck 
 at "wickedness in high places." Cyprus, his 
 first field, was famed for its sensuality and de- 
 bauchery. Here the world-renowned goddess 
 of beauty had her shrines, and living men were 
 sacrificed annually to her imaginary charms. 
 Hellish arts and incantations also were here 
 practised. It was a bold stroke to put the gos- 
 
232 ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 pel into contact with such a population. But 
 the Christian orator hesitated not ■ and see how 
 he triumphed. Under his preaching the gov- 
 ernor himself became a convert. 
 
 At Lystra, a city of Lycaonia, an event 
 occurred which brought to view Paul's distin- 
 guished talents as a sacred orator. The inhab- 
 itants, witnessing a remarkable miracle wrought 
 by the hands of the apostles, were impressed 
 with the idea that the gods had come down to 
 them in the shape of men. They accordingly 
 proceeded to tender them divine honors. Bar- 
 nabas they called Jupiter ; but Paul, being the 
 chief speaker, the orator of the occasion, they 
 called Mercurius, or the god of eloquence. 
 What higher compliment could have been giv- 
 en to Paul's oratorical powers? 
 
 This great preacher, after covering with 
 his labors the principal cities of Asia, reached 
 at length the port of Troas, and, cast an eye 
 across the iEgean sea to the shores of Europe. 
 He heard from thence a call to come over and 
 shed on the classic soil of Greece the light of 
 the gospel. Her philosophers had taught her 
 lessons of human wisdom. Her sculptors had 
 filled her cities with temples and altars and 
 statues, until the marble could be moulded into 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 233 
 
 no new forms of grandeur or of beauty. She 
 had her poets, her warriors, and her sages. 
 The tramp of her legions had made the earth 
 to tremble ; but she worshipped an ' ' unknown 
 God." That "unknown God" Paul longed to 
 declare unto them, under the forms and doc- 
 trines of the gospel. Philippi and Corinth 
 and Athens with all their grandeur lay bur- 
 ied in the midnight of superstition. To these 
 proud cities, corrupt and licentious as they 
 were proud, the humble preacher of the cross 
 makes his way. He carries with him only 
 one theme — the cross. All his eloquence is to 
 take its inspiration from this. All his hope of 
 success is centred here. "The gospel is the 
 power of God unto salvation." This grand 
 idea filled his soul, and made him fear no op- 
 position and feel no solicitude. 
 
 In the cities of Philippi and Corinth, Thes- 
 salonica and Berea — indeed everywhere, was 
 soon heard the note of gospel triumph rising 
 above that of heathenish opposition. Perse- 
 cuted the preacher was, but his appeals and 
 reasonings found their way into the hearts of 
 thousands, and churches sprung up to testify 
 to the truth of his doctrine and to the con- 
 vincing eloquence with which it was enforced. 
 
234: ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 Without derogating from the divine power 
 which made Paul's preaching thus effective in 
 the pulling down of these strong-holds of wick- 
 edness, we may assert that that power was not 
 the # less illustrious because operating through 
 so fine a medium. God chooses his own instru- 
 ments to do his own work. In this case, there 
 was between the workman and the work a 
 beautiful and admirable consistency. The 
 shaft was polished by a divine hand before it 
 was sped. The philosophy of the heathen 
 sages was to be assailed, and it pleased God 
 to commit the moral warfare to a well-drilled 
 soldier. The popular superstition, enshrining 
 itself in a thousand forms of artistic beauty — 
 in temples, in altars, in statues — crowning ev- 
 ery hill-top, haunting every stream and grove, 
 obtruding itself even into the sacredness of 
 domestic life: this superstition, having such 
 deep foundations, was to be overthrown. The 
 iconoclast must have not 'only a strong arm, 
 but a heaven-inspired elocution. He must be 
 a man who had studied the origin and the aim 
 and the debasing qualities of this idolatry. 
 Such was Paul; and in choosing him as the 
 agent, under a divine inspiration, to accom- 
 plish this mighty work, God exalted his wis- 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 235 
 
 dom without the least detriment to the excel- 
 lency of his power. 
 
 PAUL AT ATHENS. 
 
 In order to a correct estimate of this great 
 evangelist — to understand the qualities of his 
 eloquence — it will be necessary to view him 
 in certain positions where his speaking talents 
 were called into conspicuous action. One of 
 these occasions was on his first visit to the 
 Grecian metropolis. 
 
 Persecution at Lystra and Berea obliged 
 him to flee to Athens. Solitary and alone he 
 enters this proud city. Everywhere the mon- 
 uments of the fine arts courted his eye. They 
 enfiladed every avenue ; and the streets and 
 squares were alive with the- marble impersona- 
 tions of their divinities. How do these things 
 affect the preacher? Does he give himself up 
 to the strong historic associations which would 
 naturally invade a mind like his ? He 'is now 
 on the very spot where Socrates taught, Plato 
 lectured, and Demosthenes thundered. The 
 whole city is filled with the memorials of hu- 
 man genius. Turn which way he will, there is 
 the chaste marble cut into almost living forms, 
 or frowning up in fluted columns and porti- 
 
236 ELOQUENT PEEACHERS. 
 
 cos, the fancied abodes of the gods. Every- 
 where the smoke of incense is rising to some 
 tutelary deity. How is Paul affected by all 
 this ? It touches his heart more than his imag- 
 ination. His spirit weeps. "Oh, ye deluded 
 men/' he seems to say, "would that I could 
 give you my eyes, that you might see the van- 
 ity and sin of this soul-debasing worship." 
 
 But how shall he get access to these proud 
 pagans ? There is a forum there, where men 
 meet to converse and to inquire after any new 
 thing. Thither goes the preacher, and pro- 
 claims a new religion, wherein is revealed 
 "the true God, and Jesus Christ whom he 
 hath sent." 
 
 The philosophers who have gathered around 
 him know not what to make of these strange 
 doctrines. They would have from him a more 
 full and formal discourse. Paul accedes to 
 their wishes, and from the famous Areopagus 
 pronounces a sermon as sublime for its senti- 
 ments as it is chaste and beautiful in its style. 
 Probably the outline only is given us. But 
 with this outline before us, who would not 
 have coveted a hearing of the whole grand dis- 
 cussion? To have seen that eye, with heav- 
 en's lustre beaming, the halo of inspiration 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 237 
 
 encircling and irradiating the whole man ; to 
 have marked the wonder on those sage faces, 
 as the great eternal realities were spread out 
 before them; to have seen one of their number 
 more than interested, convicted, weeping as 
 well as wondering — to have seen all this under 
 the brow of the Acropolis, while Christ's blessed 
 name was heard sounding along the porches 
 and pillars of heathen temples, would have 
 been an era in any man's life. It was one of 
 the loftiest triumphs of eloquence. He spoke ■ 
 of the unity of God, in opposition to their 
 "lords many and gods many;" of the«spiritu- 
 ality of God, in opposition to their material- 
 ism; of the sin of idolatry; of the duty of 
 repentance ; of the resurrection and the judg- 
 ment — themes as solemn as they were new to 
 ears like theirs. No wonder Longinus, the 
 great Grecian critic, though a pagan, places 
 Paul's name among the most eloquent of that 
 
 age. 
 
 AT EPHESUS. 
 
 Ephesus was a central depOt of idolatry. 
 Its magnificent temple, dedicated to "the great 
 goddess Diana," was the resort of pilgrims from 
 every quarter of the world. This was one of 
 the high places where for ages spiritual wick- 
 
238- ELOQUENT PREACHERS. 
 
 edness had held control. It was a bold idea 
 in a humble preacher of righteousness, to think 
 of storming this city of idolatry. But that idea 
 took possession of Paul. He opened his mes- 
 sage first in the synagogue. Failing there, he 
 advances his moral artillery to a more com- 
 manding position. For two years he preached 
 in. the school of one Tyrannus — independent 
 ground — where Gentiles as well as Jews re- 
 sorted to hear him. Here his success was 
 great. By God's help he struck an effectual 
 blow at idolatry. Thousands came forward 
 and made confession of their hellish incanta- 
 tions. The professors of sorcery, smitten in 
 their consciences, collected their books, and 
 "burned them before all men" — an expensive 
 bonfire, amounting in value, it is estimated, to 
 over thirty thousand dollars. 
 
 Eeligion can never have its triumphs with- 
 out its trials. Paul's powerful preaching, under 
 God, had left the porches of Diana with but 
 few worshippers. The whole city seemed 
 about to forsake their idols for the worship of 
 the true God. The sale of silver shrines had 
 fallen off, and Demetrius the artificer, stung 
 with the loss of his patrons, raised a conspir- 
 acy against Paul, under an assumed reverence 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 239 
 
 for the worship of Diana. This obliged Paul 
 to leave Ephesus. But taking the whole cir- 
 cumstances into view, who can deny or even 
 doubt that an eloquence which could storm 
 effectively this strongest entrenchment of idol- 
 atry must have been of superhuman power ? 
 
 AT JEKUSALEM. 
 
 Paul's coming to Jerusalem had been an- 
 ticipated. It was a great event. The fame of 
 his eloquence and of his sufferings for Christ 
 had preceded him. He enters Jerusalem a 
 scarred veteran with the halo of victory around 
 him. But the joy of his reception is not unat- 
 tended with fear and solicitude. His enemies 
 are on his track. The moment his presence is 
 recognized, a storm of popular fury bursts upon 
 him. He is dragged from the gates of the tem- 
 ple and given up to the mob. "Away with 
 him," is the terrific cry. 
 
 At this juncture the Eoman official, whose 
 duty it was to keep the peace, interposes and 
 rescues the victim. Thirsting for his blood, 
 they pursue him to the castle. Amid all this 
 uproar Paul is calm. He asks the privilege of 
 addressing the people. It is granted. Halt- 
 ing at the foot of the stone steps, the soldiers 
 
240 ELOQUENT PBEACHEES. 
 
 draw their swords and stand like a wall of ad- 
 amant. High up on the terrace by the side of 
 the chief captain is seen the preacher, bruised 
 and bleeding, preparing to speak. Curiosity 
 for the moment triumphs over passion, and 
 they keep silence. So soon as that eloquent 
 tongue is heard in their own sacred dialect, 
 the silence grows still deeper. An admirable 
 speech follows. In the first sentence is seen 
 the skill of the orator seeking to propitiate an 
 excited and prejudiced audience. Having 
 gained their ear, he holds them in rapt atten- 
 tion. For a moment the eloquent speaker 
 triumphed. But having in the course of his 
 speech occasion to refer to the Gentiles, that 
 hated word renewed the storm of malignant 
 passions, and Paul was hurried to a place of 
 safety. Was there not evidence here of elo- 
 quence of a high order ? 
 
 BEFOKE FELIX. 
 The outbreak at Jerusalem led to accusa- 
 tions which made it necessary to subject Paul 
 to a trial before the civil tribunal. He was 
 ready for it. Conscious integrity shrinks not 
 from even the fiercest ordeal. Under an escort 
 he is sent to Cesarea. 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 241 
 
 At the third hour of the night, issuing 
 out of the gate of Jerusalem with muffled 
 tread, were seen two hundred infantry, sev- 
 enty horsemen, and two hundred spearmen, 
 guarding one lone man of unsoldier-like ap- 
 pearance. These, heathen though they be, are 
 God's guardian angels. 
 
 The escort delivers over the prisoner to 
 Felix, . together with an official statement by 
 letter as to who he is and why he is sent. The 
 reception is courteous, yet with imperial indif- 
 ference. Paul is promised a hearing, and is 
 then placed under custody. 
 
 He was now in charge of the Roman gov- 
 ernor, and surrounded by legal bulwarks. Vi- 
 olence was of no use now. If they conquer 
 him now, it must be after a fair encounter in 
 open court. Rome had some good things to 
 boast of; and one was, as Paul well knew, the 
 sacred palladium of citizenship. 
 
 In solemn pomp the high-priest and the 
 Sanhedrim, with their legal adviser, at length 
 appear and present their charges. The for- 
 malities of the tribunal are arranged on a scale 
 of grandeur commensurate with the occasion. 
 By the command of Felix, the prisoner is 
 brought forth. The Jewish barrister artfully 
 
 Eloquent Pre«clisr». XI 
 
242 ELOQUENT PEEAOHEES. 
 
 attempts to propitiate Felix by compliments 
 as disgusting as they are inappropriate, and 
 then turns upon the accused the venom-dipped 
 tongue of falsehood. He aims at the outset to 
 bring the apostle into contempt by calling him 
 "a pestilent fellow/' an artifice betraying not 
 only the weakness of his cause, but the wick- 
 edness of his heart. "He is a mover of sedi- 
 tion" too. But here the difficulty was, first, 
 that there was no proof of it; second, there 
 was no truth in it. "He is moreover," adds 
 Tertullus, "a ringleader of the sect of the Naz- 
 arenes ;" a charge savoring of truth, yet intro- 
 duced in a way to imply something like a riot- 
 ous and dishonorable leadership, than which 
 nothing could be more unjust. But the prin- 
 cipal charge, and that on which his enemies 
 most relied for his condemnation, was the crime 
 of sacrilege, or the profanation of the temple. 
 If the charge could have been made out, Paul 
 might have been executed. 
 
 "When Tertullus had finished his artful ha- 
 rangue, there is applause among the Sanhe- 
 drim, and with one voice they exclaim, "Ev- 
 ery word of it is true." 
 
 Now it is Paul's turn. He waits respect- 
 fully until the governor signifies that he may 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 243 
 
 speak. He needs no Tertullus to plead for 
 him. He can plead his own cause. Truth 
 and innocence require no artificial rhetoric. 
 He simply states the facts, and challenges his 
 accusers to disprove them. It is done in a 
 concise but masterly manner. His reply is 
 calm, clear, and convincing. 
 
 Felix sees through the plot, and breaks up 
 the court by saying that he will postpone the 
 decision. Had he been a noble-minded Ro- 
 man, a lover of truth and of justice, he would 
 have knocked on Paul's chains and set him at 
 liberty. But "the oppressor's contumely" 
 sometimes subserves a purpose of God. He 
 even had decreed that he should go up to 
 Rome under the protection of Roman law. 
 No thanks to Felix for this. His meanness 
 and injustice in detaining an innocent man in 
 prison for two whole years admit of no apology. 
 
 Felix was a bad man every way. He had 
 a wife who did not lawfully belong to him. 
 She was the wife really of another. What- 
 ever her influence, being a Jewess, might have 
 been in keeping Paul under duress, we know 
 that a mean and mercenary motive influenced 
 Felix. With such motives he sends for Paul 
 to hear him concerning the faith in Christ. 
 
244 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 Such a preacher and such an audience sel- 
 dom meet. The pomp and glitter of a throne 
 occupied by regal power; attendants numer- 
 ous, and a guard mail-clad and magnificent: 
 such an overpowering display would have in- 
 timidated any less exalted spirit than that of 
 Paul. What was all this to him ? 
 
 As he enters the place of hearing, loaded 
 with chains, all eyes are upon him, those espe- 
 cially which looked down from the proconsular 
 throne. The preacher knew his hearers. He 
 had explored their character, and he knew 
 what kind of truths they needed. Every sen- 
 tence was like a flash of lightning, and every 
 word was like one of the hail-stones of Reve- 
 lation. It fell with startling emphasis upon 
 the ears of the guilty. 
 
 Paul reasoned of "righteousness" to one 
 of the most unrighteous men living. He 
 preached "temperance" to one addicted to 
 beastly sensuality; of "judgment to come" to 
 a man whose crimes had already, in his own 
 conscience, foreshadowed his doom. 
 
 No wonder Felix trembled. Such a ser- 
 mon, by such a preacher to such a sinner, ac- 
 counts for it. But it was only the conviction 
 of the conscience, not the contrition of the pen- 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 245 
 
 itent. What an opportunity was there lost! 
 Had Felix but improved it, even he might 
 have found salvation. 
 
 BEFORE FESTUS AND AGRIPPA. 
 
 In the same grand halls of state, before the 
 same throne, now occupied by the successor of 
 Felix, the incarcerated preacher is permitted 
 again to vindicate his innocence and to explain 
 his doctrine. The two weary years of his cap- 
 tivity had rolled away, and there was some 
 hope now that he might be set at liberty. But 
 that hope died so soon as Paul understood the 
 temper of Festus leaning evidently towards his 
 accusers. Hence his appeal to Cresar. This 
 was his right as a Eoman citizen, and now was 
 .the critical moment to exercise it. 
 
 For good and sufficient reasons, Paul would 
 not consent to have the second trial take place 
 at Jerusalem. The governor insisting, Paul 
 replies, "If I have been an offender,' or have 
 committed any thing worthy of death, I re- 
 fuse not to die ; but if there be none of these 
 things whereof they accuse me, no man may 
 deliver me unto them. I appeal unto Csesar." 
 In the face of Festus, this was bold. But it 
 settled the matter for the present. 
 
246 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 Meanwhile another regal character comes 
 into view — Agrippa. He comes to salute the 
 new proconsul. Festus is glad of his arrival, 
 for he can consult with him concerning Paul. 
 Agrippa hails the opportunity to hear a man 
 so noted for his eloquent advocacy of the 
 Christian faith. Accordingly great prepara- 
 tions are made for the hearing. A mag- 
 nificent assembly is convened. The whole 
 thing is on a scale of imperial grandeur. 
 Agrippa with Bernice gorgeously arrayed 
 enter the hall, and seat themselves on the 
 judgment-seat beside Festus. All the princi- 
 pal men of the city are there, together with 
 an imposing array of military shining in their 
 imperial panoply. 
 
 At the command of Festus, Paul is sent 
 for. The assembly is hushed, and every eye 
 is turned in one direction as the clank of chains 
 is heard in the corridor. A man of moderate 
 stature enters, of a wan countenance furrowed 
 with care and thought, his hands folded across 
 his breast, in order to support the weight of 
 fetters with which they are encumbered. Pre- 
 ceded by the centurion, he moves slowly into 
 the centre of that vast assembly. His eye is 
 not dazzled nor his heart intimidated by^ this 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 247 
 
 imposing spectacle. One who has had a vision 
 of God and angels, whose daily converse is 
 with the King of kings, thinks but lightly of 
 the trappings of royalty. Yet with a respect- 
 ful and courteous manner does he bow towards 
 the throne. 
 
 Festus introduces the matter, going over 
 the principal facts, and declaring that one ob- 
 ject of the present occasion was that, in con- 
 nection with the opinion of his royal guests, 
 he might have something more definite to state 
 in his letter to Augustus. "Then Agrippa 
 said unto Paul, Thou art permitted to speak 
 for thyself." 
 
 The speech that followed, so familiar to all, 
 is a model of earnest and eloquent address, 
 rising as it proceeds, until it thrills every 
 hearer, and starts Festus from his throne, ex- 
 claiming, "Paul, thou art beside thyself; much 
 learning doth make thee mad." 
 
 "lam not mad, most noble Festus," is the 
 courteous reply; "but speak forth the words 
 of truth and soberness. King Agrippa know- 
 eth of these things, before whom I also speak 
 freely." Then turning to Agrippa, "King 
 Agrippa, believest thou the prophets?" A 
 pause. " I know that thou believest." 
 
248 ELOQUENT PBEACHEKS. 
 
 The appeal has touched Agrippa's heart. 
 In a voice tremulous with emotion he cries out, 
 regardless of the proprieties, "Almost thou 
 persuadest me to be a Christian." Seizing 
 this concession, the orator, lifting up his hands 
 burdened with a weight of chains, and with an 
 eye upturned to heaven, and as if addressing 
 both God and man in the same breath, ex- 
 claims, "I would to G-od, that not only thou, 
 but also all that hear me this day, were both 
 almost and altogether such as I am, except 
 these bonds." 
 
 It is useless to say what we think of this 
 strain of Pauline eloquence. Should we put it 
 on a par with that of Demosthenes, we might 
 be accused perhaps of official partiality. But 
 
 •m 
 
 judging of its power by its effects, we should 
 say that few speakers, on record can surpass 
 this. It brought Festus to his feet, and made 
 Agrippa almost a Christian. 
 
 PAUL'S ELOQUENCE JUDGED OF BY HIS 
 WHITINGS. 
 
 We judge of the eloquence of uninspired 
 preachers in part by their published sermons. 
 The same rule might not perhaps apply to the 
 inspired preacher. His hand is held, as it 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 249 
 
 were, by the hand of God. What he writes 
 is, in a sense, the eloquence of the overshad- 
 owing Spirit. To appreciate the efforts of hu-. 
 man genius, requires a sympathizing genius in 
 the reader. So, to have a right and full im- 
 pression of an inspired composition, the eye of 
 the reader should have caught some of the 
 radiance that touched the soul of the writer. 
 Still we must allow that inspiration destroys 
 not the stamp of individuality which marks the 
 sacred writers. Each has his own peculiar 
 style easily distinguishable ; so that, were 
 Paul's name or John's not appended to his 
 epistles, it would be no very difficult task to 
 identify the respective authors. 
 
 Take the Epistle to the Romans as an 
 exponent of the intellectual character of its 
 author. It is a great discourse on great 
 themes. In it may be found every attribute 
 of an admirable if not perfect style ; while as 
 a whole it resembles a finished piece of archi- 
 tecture, strong, symmetrical, and graceful.. 
 The oration of Demosthenes on the crowD is 
 not a more sure index of the genius of its au- 
 thor, than is this sublime epistle of the elo- 
 quence of St. Paul. 
 
 Many circumstances conspired to carry up 
 
250 ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 this composition to so unequalled an elevation. 
 His soul was filled with the inspiration of God. 
 The place and people wrought mightily upon 
 him. It was to go to Rome, that peerless city, 
 the centre of power and influence, where sci- 
 ence and art had reached a perfection hitherto 
 unknown. It was to a church composed in 
 part of the elite of Rome's citizens. All these 
 things combined to make this epistle a produc- 
 tion of great force and eloquence. In it the 
 author's power as a logician comes into view. 
 He reasons abstractly and also on admitted 
 facts. Sometimes the stream of argument 
 flows on clear and calm, and then breaking 
 into the abruptness of the Socratic mode, 
 makes its way with the force of a cataract. His 
 aim is to drive the Jew from forms to faith in 
 Christ, and to shut up the Gentile to the same 
 faith. He closes up every avenue to heaven 
 but one. To that one he points continually, 
 saying, There, where the cross is seen, where 
 the atoning blood is seen, there only is the road. 
 As he proceeds, his soul, by its own impet- 
 uosity, takes fire, and he actually glows amid 
 his own radiance. You see the flashes of feel- 
 ing mingling with the forms of logic. When 
 his reasoning reaches the cross, that great cen- 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 251 
 
 tral point of interest, as it does from whatso- 
 ever point he starts, it loses itself in rapturous 
 emotion. As his eye catches a view of that 
 cross, it kindles, it weeps. Every thing is in- 
 stantly in a glow. He forgets to reason. He 
 cries out in passionate sorrow at man's dull 
 understanding, or breaks forth in seraphic de- 
 votion, as if he saw the Son of man in his glory. 
 Thus, from beginning to end, we challenge a 
 comparison in behalf of this production with 
 any writings, ancient or modern, whether they 
 be treatises on the worship of God or on the 
 virtues of man. 
 
 Paul's character as a preacher is intimately 
 connected with his style and manner as a writ- 
 er. It is impossible to read his epistles with- 
 out forming some idea of him. as a preacher. 
 We thus approach at least some just impres- 
 sion of his sacred oratory. 
 
 And yet Paul himself has, in one of his 
 epistles, intimated that the Corinthians object- 
 ed to his preaching, while they admired his 
 writings. It should be remembered, however, 
 that, according to the standard of taste which 
 prevailed at Corinth — formed on the most per- 
 fect models of the Grecian schools — where com- 
 pass of voice and grace of gesture and the pol- 
 
252 ELOQUENT PKEACHEES. 
 
 isli of periods entered largely into their estimate 
 of oratory, Paul would not be rated among the 
 very first. He went unto them, not "with ex- 
 cellency of speech;" that is, not studying to 
 reach the high classic finish of the Attic school. 
 Nor was he careful probably to cultivate or 
 exhibit much gracefulness of manner. He was 
 mainly anxious to find his way to their hearts 
 and consciences ; and hence they spoke sneer- 
 ingly of his address. But that Paul was not a 
 powerful preacher, that he was not eloquent in 
 the best sense of the art — meaning by elo- 
 quence power to convince the judgment, rouse 
 the sensibilities, and touch the heart — that in 
 all these respects he was not the eloquent 
 preacher, no man can make us believe. The 
 power, by a few sentences, to still an infuriate 
 mob, to shake a tyrant on his throne, and 
 compel another to start from his seat in con- 
 vulsive agony, while a third is ready almost to 
 give up heathenism for Christianity — such a 
 power is indicative not only of inspired ener- 
 gy, but of sublime eloquence. 
 
 And now let us ask, Wherein resided this 
 power ? Undoubtedly in the divinely wrought 
 character of the man. It was one of unequal- 
 led purity. Self was sacrificed to the glory of 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 253 
 
 G-od and the good of man. The Old Testa- 
 ment, together with all the collateral history, 
 was stereotyped upon his memory. He was 
 versed also in Grecian learning. To this must 
 be added a keen insight and thorough know- 
 ledge of mankind. Thus furnished, and with 
 a wisdom that could most effectively bring that 
 knowledge to bear, he was on all occasions 
 perfect master of his subject. He was calm 
 and self-possessed. This arose from his indif- 
 ference to the opinions of the world, and his 
 entire absorption in the great matter on hand. 
 His reputation he had laid down at the foot of 
 the cross. Life and death were not with him 
 the great questions, but truth and duty. Hence 
 there was neither perturbation nor failure. 
 Such was this inspired preacher as he went 
 forth with that one great idea, "Christ, and 
 him crucified," burnt into his very soul. 
 
 The leading trait of his character was ac- 
 tion. "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do? 11 
 The impulse, the ability, and the will to do, 
 were all his. The same unyielding, indomita- 
 ble energy characterized him both before and 
 after his conversion. But in the latter case it 
 was raised to a pitch of grandeur from the na- 
 ture of the enterprise to which it was conse- 
 
254 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 crated. The current of his soul's affections 
 setting in this new and heaven-directed chan- 
 nel, pressed onward with an impetuosity that 
 swept every thing before it. His life was "a 
 living sacrifice." With this energy was com- 
 bined a sublime unity of purpose ; so that, in 
 his own expressive words, "To him to live was 
 Christ." 
 
 Paul's religious life had depth as well as 
 height. The structure that rose so high, so 
 near to heaven, could never have stood the 
 shocks which it received, had it not been im- 
 bedded deep in the soul, resting on ' ' the Rock 
 of ages." His religion blended itself with all 
 his forms of thought, with all his affections, 
 with all his deportment, putting on him a grace 
 and polish, a celestial refinement even, which 
 is as superior to mere human culture as the 
 natural flower, with its beauty and its fra- 
 grance, is to the tawdry and inodorous arti- 
 ficial one. 
 
 But Paul was one of whom the world was 
 not worthy; and so heaven, long waiting for 
 his coming, at length claimed him as her own. 
 The seat in glory — a high one — was ready for 
 him. And now "Paul the aged," worn out 
 with labors and sufferings, scarred from head 
 
THE APOSTLE PAUL. 255 
 
 to foot in the battles which he had fought for 
 truth and holiness, surrenders himself to the 
 tyrant, enters the dungeon, and awaits the sig- 
 nal for martyrdom. By that dungeon's dim 
 light, within hearing perhaps of the roar of the 
 half-starved lions of the amphitheatre, he dic- 
 tated his dying message : "I am now ready to 
 be offered ; and the time of my departure is at 
 hand. I have fought a good fight ; I have fin- 
 ished my course ; I have kept the faith. Hence- 
 forth there is laid up for me a crown of right- 
 eousness which the Lord the righteous Judge 
 shall give me in that clay." 
 
 Can any thing be added to this ? Can we 
 ask for any thing more ? A more glorious life 
 and a more glorious close of life have never 
 been witnessed among mortals. Here the cur- 
 tain drops. The last scene is the dungeon ; the 
 last words, the triumphant ones just quoted. 
 The rest is left to our imaginations. The road 
 from that dungeon to the amphitheatre was 
 short. He trod it, we doubt not, with a firm 
 step, a fearless, yea, even an exultant heart. 
 He was in sight of the goal and of the crown. 
 One momentary pang put him in possession. 
 
 But such a man never dies. We do not 
 look upon him as dead. He lives in his epis- 
 
256 ELOQUENT PEEACHEES. 
 
 ties, in his example, in his spirit, The death- 
 scene seems to have been shrouded from us 
 purposely, that we may think less of the mor- 
 tal and more of the immortal man. By the 
 grace of God he reached his peerless eleva- 
 tion. But we can discern his foot-prints and 
 see the direction in which they tend. We can 
 catch a glimpse of him in the high up and far 
 distant flight. Where he fixed his eye, we 
 may fix ours. " I press towards the mark." 
 That mark was Christ; to win whom and to 
 be found in whom was, to St. Paul, worth a 
 life-long struggle, and more than compensated 
 for all the terrors of martyrdom. 
 
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