As a lecturer he has also acquired a deservedly high rank. During the war of the rebellion he delivered a discourse on the “Future of Our Country,” in the principal cities of the United States, which gave him a more than denominational fame. This lecture has probably never been surpassed as a summing up of the resources of the nation, and an application of the data to the prediction of the probable destiny and form of our government. As far as words were concerned, it was an extempore address, and had the peculiarity that might be expected from this fact, of being much better delivered, and therefore, of making a much more profound impression at some points than others.
Simpson travels continually, preaching at conferences, dedicating churches, and delivering lectures, thus being brought into close contact with the people in all parts of the country. He has little resemblance to the popular ideal of an orator. His action is ungraceful, and his voice low and almost monotonous. He is also hard worked, and not having the powers of endurance possessed by some of our incessant preachers, he usually appears tired and exhausted. Yet he has three qualities that go far to make up for these defects. He is intensely earnest and real. Before listening to him five minutes his hearers are convinced that he is speaking the very thoughts of his soul without evasion or pretense. He also has great imagination, and, as a consequence, the statement of facts, in which he abounds, is never dry or tedious. And lastly, he has great command of condensed and expressive language. What he wishes to say is said in a few words, and every sermon is filled with the materials of thought rather than with mere verbiage. These qualities atone for every deficiency of external grace, and place him among the most popular ministers of the Methodist Church.
Simpson preaches entirely extempore, having no time to write, even if he had the disposition. His memory is tenacious, and his power of observation keen, so that he is never at a loss for facts or illustrations. He has a tender heart also, and often appeals to his own vivid experiences, thus drawing the sympathies of the people with him.
WENDELL PHILLIPS.
There can scarcely be a doubt that Wendell Phillips is the greatest professional lecturer of the present day. He is always radical, and on the extremest verge of every question, although in many things the people have followed hard on his footsteps. As a speaker, he has great power, combined with unsurpassed elegance. His manner is calm, his voice of silvery sweetness, yet every rounded sentence is full of living flame, and no man is so unsparing in his denunciations. In a style as lucid, exact, and pure as that of a scholar who has been all his life secluded from the world, and busied with literature alone, he utters words and sentences befitting the stormiest revolution.
The lectures of Phillips, which are repeated again and again, are, of course, well studied and the language followed pretty closely, though not invariably. But like Mirabeau, it is in his unstudied speeches that he rises highest. The first address that gave him public fame was of this character. A meeting had been called in Boston to pass resolutions of indignation on the occasion of the murder of Lovejoy, who was killed in Illinois for his devotion to freedom. The whole business of the meeting was arrested, and the resolutions were on the point of being defeated by the powerful opposition of a leading politician, who feared even to say that murder was wrong. Phillips was present as a listener, but could keep his seat no longer, and, arising, gave vent to his feelings in a speech so full of thrilling and indignant eloquence, that the purpose of the meeting was at once secured, and he himself brought before the public as one of the first orators of the age.
In regard to the manner of his preparation Phillips himself refers to the celebrated letter of Lord Brougham to the father of Macaulay, on the training of his son in eloquence. The substance of Brougham’s advice is, to first acquire the power of speaking freely and easily before an audience, no matter at what sacrifice of accuracy and elegance. This, he says truly, can only be done by much practice. When this is accomplished, he recommends studying and committing to memory the orations of Demosthenes until their spirit is fully imbibed.
JOHN P. DURBIN.
This traveler, scholar, and preacher, adds another one to the long and illustrious list of those who have triumphed over every hindrance and risen to eminence. He was born in 1800. A district school afforded him all the education he obtained before entering the Methodist itineracy, but while enduring the hardships of a pioneer minister he studied diligently, perusing his Bible and commentaries around the log fires of his parishioners whenever even this poor opportunity occurred. When he was appointed to Cincinnati a more promising field opened. He went to college during the week, and still filled his pulpit on the Sabbath. He soon after became a professor in a college, and afterward chaplain to Congress, where he was highly distinguished. Then he served a time as editor of the New York Advocate, and became President of Dickenson College. Next he traveled through the old world, as far as Egypt and Syria, and, returning, wrote a very interesting account of his journey. He was, lastly, elected Corresponding Secretary of the M. E. Missionary Society—a position which he has held for years, and which brings him into contact with large masses of people in every part of the country.
The merits of Durbin as an orator are many and high. He possesses deep feeling, and the tears of the people to whom he preaches are at his command. There is a greatness about his character that is always felt, and with it a childlike simplicity that endears him to every heart. There is an utter absence of the pretension we sometimes find about those who are conscious of the possession of great powers. His arrangement of every sermon is plain, simple, and easily remembered. His command of words is complete, and he always finds just the one he wants without hesitation. The tones of his voice are affectionate and pleasing, though when not called into animation by some subject worthy of his powers, a little monotonous, yet so strong that when he seems to be only talking at the pitch of common conversation, every word can be heard to the extremity of the largest church. But his voice can be raised to a thunder peal that is the more impressive because it is seldom employed. The perfect ease with which he preaches, is far different from the manner of those who have memorized every word and are full of anxiety for its effect. Often while he talks away with apparent indifference, every eye is fixed on his, or moistened with tears. When we heard him, some of his images were overwhelmingly sublime, and we held our breath in awe; at other times his explanations seemed to throw new and radiant light on what was before dark and obscure.