I have already remarked (Part II. Chap. I. § 2.) on the danger, to a person of great ingenuity, of being himself, unless carefully on his guard, misled by it since though it requires greater skill to mislead him than an ordinary man, he himself possesses that superior skill. It is no feeble blow that will destroy a giant; but if a giant resolve to kill himself, it is a giant that deals the blow. And then, the man of preeminent ability, has, in the supposed case, his judgment blinded by the very passion which calls forth all his argumentative skill. But in addition to this, such a man is qualified strongly to influence (whether in a public speech or in private conversation) those whose abilities are inferior to his own; and they again, by adopting and sympathizing with his passion or prejudice, heighten it in himself. He will, naturally, be disposed to overrate their judgment when it coincides with his own; and thence, to find himself confirmed in what he thinks and feels, by listening to what is, in fact, the echo of his own voice: and thus, what is in reality selfreliance, presents itself in the specious garb of modest deference for the opinion of others.

This accordingly is a danger which any man of superior talents should sedulously guard against in his intercourse with persons the members, for instance, of his own family— who are his inferiors in ability.

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The impossibility of bringing the delivery of a written composition completely to a level with real extemporary speaking, (though, as has been said, it may approach indefinitely near to such an effect,) is explained on the

Sympathy with the extemporaneous speaker in surmounting his difficulty.

same principle. Besides that the audience are more sure that the thoughts they hear expressed, are the genuing emanation of the speaker's mind at the moment,* their attention and interest are the more excited by their sympathy with one whom they perceive to be carried forward solely by his own unaided and unremitted efforts, without having any book to refer to; they view him as a swimmer supported by his own constant exertions; and in every such case, if the feat be well accomplished, the surmounting of the difficulty affords great gratification; especially to those who are conscious that they could not do the same. And one proof, that part of the pleasure conveyed does arise from this source, is, that as the spectators of an exhibition of supposed unusual skill in swimming, would instantly withdraw most of their interest and admiration, if they perceived that the performer was supported by corks, or the like; so would the feelings alter of the hearers of a supposed extemporaneous discourse, as soon as they should perceive, or even suspect, that the orator had it written down before him.

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The way in which the respective inconRemedy proveniences of both kinds of discourses may posed. best be avoided, is evident from what has been already said. Let both the extemporary Speaker, and the Reader of his own compositions, study to avoid, as far as

*It is not meant by this that an extemporary speaker necessarily composes (in respect of his matter) extempore, or that he professes to do so; but only, that if he frames each sentence at the moment, he must, at that moment, have the sentiment which is expressed in it strongly present in his mind.

possible, all thoughts of self, earnestly fixing the mind on the matter of what is delivered; and the one will feel the less of that embarrassment which arises from the thought of what opinion the hearers will form of him; while the other will appear to be speaking, because he actually will be speaking, the sentiments, not indeed which at that time first arise in his own mind, but which are then really present to, and occupy his mind.

CHAP. IV. Practical Deductions from the foregoing

views.

§ 1.

Original compositions suitable to the natural

ONE of the consequences of the adoption of the mode of elocution here recommended, is, that he who endeavors to employ it will find a growing reluctance to the delivery, as delivery. his own, of any but his own compositions. Conclusions, indeed, and arguments he may freely borrow; but he will be led to compose his own discourses, from finding that he cannot deliver those of another to his own satisfaction, without laboriously studying them, as an actor does his part, so as to make them, in some measure, his own. And with this view, he will generally find it advisable to introduce many alterations in the expression, not with any thought of improving the style, absolutely, but only with a view to his own delivery. And indeed, even his own previous compositions he will be led to alter almost as much, in point of expression, in order to accommodate them to the Natural manner of

delivery. Much that would please in the closet, much of the Graphic style described by Aristotle, will be laid aside for the Agonistic; — for a style somewhat more blunt and homely,

more simple, and, apparently, unstudied in its structure, and at the same time, more daringly energetic. And if again he is desirous of fitting his discourses for the press, he will find it expedient to reverse this process, and alter the style afresh. In many instances accordingly, the perusal of a manuscript sermon would afford, from the observation of its style, a tolerably good ground of conjecture as to the author's customary elocution. For instance, a rapid elocution suits the more full, and a slow one, the more concise style; and great variations in the degree of rapidity of delivery are suited to the corresponding variations in the style.

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A mere sermon-reader, on the contrary, will avoid this inconvenience, and this labor; he will be able to deliver another's discourses nearly as well as his own; and may send his own to the press, without the necessity of any great preparation but he will purchase these advantages at the expense of more than half the force which might have been given to the sentiments uttered. And he will have no right to complain that his discourses, though replete perhaps with good sense, learning, and eloquence, are received with languid apathy, or that many are seduced from their attendance on this teaching, by the empty rant of an illiterate fanatic. Much of these evils must indeed be expected, after all, to remain : but he does not give himself a fair chance for diminishing them, unless he does justice to his own arguments, instructions, and exhortations, by speaking them, in the only effectual way, to the hearts of his hearers; that is, as uttered naturally from his own.

I have seen somewhere an anecdote of some celebrated

actor being asked by a divine, "How is it that people listen with so much emotion to what you say, which they know to be all fictitious, besides that it would be no concern of theirs, even if true; while they hear with comparative apathy, from us, truths the most sublime, and the most important to them?" The answer was, "Because we deliver fiction like truth, and you deliver truth like fiction."

Effects of rant accounted for.

The principles here laid down may help to explain a remarkable fact which is usually attributed to other than the true causes. The powerful effects often produced by some fanatical preachers, not superior in pious and sincere zeal, and inferior in learning, in good sense, and in taste, to men who are listened to with comparative apathy, are frequently considered as a proof of superior eloquence; though an eloquence tarnished by barbarism, and extravagant mannerism. Now may not such effects result, not from any superior powers in the preacher, but merely from the intrinsic beauty and sublimity, and the measureless importance of the subject? But why then, it may be replied, does not the other preacher, whose subject is the very same, produce the same effect? The answer is, because he is but half-attended to. The ordinary measured cadence of reading, is not only in itself dull, but is what men are familiarly accustomed to: religion itself also, is a subject so familiar, in a certain sense, (familiar, that is, to the ear,) as to be trite, even to those who know and think little about it. Let but the attention be thoroughly roused, and intently fixed on such a stupendous subject, and that subject itself will produce the most overpowering emotion. And not only unaffected earnestness of manner, but, perhaps, even still more, any uncouth oddity, and even ridiculous extravagance, will, by the stimulus of novelty, have the effect of