But most valuable of all means for attaining this power, is a thorough, practical acquaintance with Phrenology. Much ridicule has been thrown on this science by traveling imposters, who have practiced character-reading, together with witchcraft and fortune-telling—just as astronomy and astrology were once joined. But such associations are not more necessary than that sometimes supposed to exist between geology and unbelief. Phrenology is a branch of the inductive sciences, established and tested by observation and experiment. Its two cardinal principles are: First, that the brain is the organ of mind; second, that different mental functions are performed by different parts of the brain. The latter is no more unreasonable than to suppose that the different bodily actions, walking, lifting, eating, smelling, etc., are performed by different parts of the body. The first proposition is admitted by all; and if the second is allowed to be reasonable, it then becomes easy to determine whether the correspondence of faculty and organ in any case is sufficiently proved. The poets, Whittier and Bryant, Horace Greeley and the eminent educator, Horace Mann, all professed to derive great advantage from the study. Henry Ward Beecher, who stands among the first of living orators, attributes all his power “in making sermons fit” to the early and constant study of Phrenology. It is an instructive fact, that although the different organs were discovered singly and at long intervals, yet when the contributions of many laborers have been brought together, the result is a most beautiful and perfect mental philosophy—contrasting with the warring systems of metaphysics as the clear sunlight does with clouds and night. We give it as a deliberate opinion that it is better for the preacher to remain ignorant of any one of the natural sciences or learned languages, than to neglect that study which unfolds the laws of mind and teaches us to understand our fellow men.
CHAPTER V.
CULTIVATION—IMAGINATION—LANGUAGE—GESTURE—CONFIDENCE.
The ability to convey our thoughts to others may be very greatly increased by culture. The vastest accumulations of learning will not be useful to the world unless there is an available channel by which they may be transmitted. We will consider a few of the elements that make a man ready in communicating his ideas.
Imagination is often thought to be unnecessary to the sacred orator; but if he resign to the poet and novelist that faculty that deals with beauty in all its forms, the lovers of beauty will be apt to desert the churches and seek gratification where it can be found. Imagination, in its legitimate sphere, is as necessary as the power of reasoning, or the sentiment of devotion. It deals with truth as well as fiction, and gives to its possessor the creative, life-breathing spirit of poetry. Listen to the description of any piece of natural scenery by a person of imagination and another destitute of it. They may describe with equal truthfulness, and even allude to the same objects; but one will give a dry catalogue of facts, on which the mind cannot fix without painful effort, while the other gives a picture that fills us with delight. The same difference is apparent in the commonest things. In relating a story or enforcing an argument, the man who has this rare and wonderful power will make his words glow with life, and arrest our attention.
It has been said of Henry Ward Beecher, who possesses so strong an imagination, that the people would listen with wonder if he were only describing the way a potato grew. This is literally true. He would see in it a thousand beauties no one else had thought of, and paint the picture with a force and accuracy that would command attention. His own conceptions are exceedingly clear, and while his knowledge is great, his imagination enables him to concentrate everything into a clear and vivid description.
Even the Bible, which is the preacher’s great example, is pre-eminently a book of imagination. Nowhere is there loftier or more beautiful imagery employed, or truth wrought into more exquisite forms. A few short and simple words paint pictures that the world looks upon with astonishment from age to age. The first chapters of Genesis contain as much poetry as Paradise Lost; in fact, it is the poetry of these chapters interpreted by a mighty mind that illuminates the most sublime imaginative poem in the language of man. Job and Isaiah are without rivals in the mighty imagination that “bodies forth the forms of things unknown.” Even the New Testament, which we usually consider as a plain narrative, sparkles with true poetry. Where will we find a more graceful thought than that of our Saviour’s: “Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” The Book of Revelation is full of glorious and awful figures addressed to the imagination.
With such sanctions, the preacher need not fear to employ all of this faculty that God has given him. Many of his subjects are in the remote past, and can only be brought near enough to the people to awaken their interest by one who can view them as present. There is no possibility of novelty in our themes. Times are altered since Paul was accused as a setter-forth of strange doctrines. Men have listened to the same stories all their lives. Yet if the preacher can make the sublime scenes of the Bible live in his own mind, he can describe them with the vivacity of an eye-witness. All have noticed the interest excited in the midst of a dry sermon by a simple story. The reason is, that the preacher was, at first, dealing with abstractions—mere words, and nothing more—but when he came to the story his heart and imagination took hold on it. The same interest may be excited in any part of a sermon if the speaker can but throw his own soul into it, and see what he describes.
The account of the storming of Lookout Mountain, as given by Bishop Simpson, was a fine illustration of this. The incident is perfectly familiar, and in describing it he used simple words, without the false brilliancy that sometimes passes for eloquence. There was no particular charm in his manner, but his imagination grasped the magnificent achievement, and it stood out in all its fullness before the eyes of the audience. They saw the old flag disappear in the cloud, and the long lines of blue wind up the mountain until they were hidden in the same obscurity; heard the thunder that man’s artillery made boom out of the bosom of the cloud; then saw the flag emerge from the mist and heard the cheer of victory ringing down from the sky. The effect upon the audience was overwhelming, and irrepressible tears streamed from the eyes of all.
Such glory may be thrown around the teaching of the Bible, and every word be true; and the audience will enjoy it more than if they were actually carried back to the olden time and witnessed its wondrous scenes with their own eyes; for they will have—what so many feel the want of when gazing on memorable scenes—some one to interpret their feelings and give them living sympathy.
While illustrations and comparisons flow principally from the reasoning faculties, they derive their beauty from imagination. Without its influence they may explain and simplify, but have no power to interest the hearer or elevate the tenor of the discourse. Beecher excels in this as in so many other things, and while his similes may take hold of the most common things, they are always highly imaginative and appropriate.