Look at our blessed Lord: surely He knew what real dignity was. Or, let us study the Gospel: do we find there any of these fine airs, this inflated and consequential tone? It is simple, clear, and profound throughout. We hear it occasionally said of certain individuals:—"He cannot adapt himself to the capacity of every one; his knowledge is far too high and deep for that;" which means, that the poor man indicated has heaped up in his brains, pell-mell, a mass of ill-digested ideas which he is unable to call forth with anything like order: and that is all. The truly profound man, on the contrary, is always clear. He moves calmly through the highest regions of science, and is as much at his ease there as if he were at home. He sees things, and he narrates them. He turns his thoughts over and over again, putting them into a thousand forms, so as to be able to place them within reach of the feeblest intellects. Take M. Arago as an example of this wisdom and simplicity combined. He succeeds in rendering the highest problems of astronomy intelligible, and that in a few words, even to very young children. …
Herein, also, a wrong estimate has been formed of the French mind; since even those who move in the highest circles of society much prefer what is simple, clear, and natural.
There is a well-known preacher in Paris who gives familiar lectures—they are real sermons—even when appointed select season-preacher. He has been preaching for the last twenty years without ever sparing himself, readily responding to every call. Crowds of the elegant world, notwithstanding, press round his pulpit, and there is always the same affluence of hearers. The most eminent of preachers, who adopted a different style of address, would have been used-up long since.
A priest, full of the Spirit of God, died some years ago in the flower of his age. He was remarkable in the art of giving plain and simple lectures. After his death, these lectures, in a mutilated form, were collected and published by a female, and obtained as wide a circulation as the most celebrated discourses.
Plain speech pleases and benefits all; whereas what is called sublime speech only amuses a few, and benefits fewer still.
But one of the most effectual ways of making the truth understood by the people is by metaphor and simile. They speak an analogous language themselves and readily understand it; more especially when the comparisons are drawn from visible, present, or actual things, and when they are striking or popular. The Sacred Scriptures are full of expositions of this nature, and the sermons of Père Lejeune also contain a rich mine of the same class.
O'Connell did not overlook this means of influencing the people, and he sometimes employed it in the most picturesque and characteristic fashion.
He was one day assailing the hereditary peerage. "What are the lords?" said he. "Because the father was considered a good legislator, therefore the son must be the same! Just as if a man who proposed to make you a coat should answer the question: Are you a tailor? by saying that his father before him was. Is there any of you who would employ such an hereditary tailor? This principle of common sense as regards the lords will become popular in time. We want no hereditary legislators or tailors. Do you ask who will make this principle popular? I reply, the lords themselves, who show themselves to be very bad tailors."