With fearless pen he arraigned that giant criminal, Napoleon Bonaparte. Witnesses flocked from all his scenes of blood; and the pyramids of Egypt, the coast of Palestine, the plains of Italy, the snows of Russia, the fields of Austria, Prussia, Spain, all Europe, sent forth uncoffined hosts to bear testimony against the glory of their chief. Never before, in the name of humanity and freedom, was grand offender arraigned by such a voice. The sentence of degradation which Channing has passed, confirmed by coming generations, will darken the name of the warrior more than any defeat of his arms or compelled abdication of his power. These causes Channing upheld and commended with admirable eloquence, both of tongue and pen. Though abounding in beauty of thought and expression, he will be judged less by single passages, sentences, or phrases, than by the continuous and harmonious treatment of his subject. And yet everywhere the same spirit is discerned. What he said was an effluence rather than a composition. His style was not formal or architectural in shape or proportion, but natural and flowing. Others seem to construct, to build; he bears us forward on an unbroken stream. If we seek a parallel for him as writer, we must turn our backs upon England, and repair to France. Meditating on the glowing thought of Pascal, the persuasive sweetness of Fénelon, the constant and comprehensive benevolence of the Abbé Saint Pierre, we may be reminded of Channing. With few of the physical attributes belonging to the orator, he was an orator of surpassing grace. His soul tabernacled in a body that was little more than a filament of clay. He was small in stature; but when he spoke, his person seemed to dilate with the majesty of his thoughts,--as the Hercules of Lysippus, a marvel of ancient art, though not more than a foot in height, revived in the mind the superhuman strength which overcame the Nemean lion:-- "Deus ille, Deus; seseque videndum Indulsit, Lysippe, tibi, _parvusque videri Sentirique ingens_."[185] [185] Statius, Silv., Lib. IV. Carm. 6. His voice was soft and musical, not loud or full in tone; and yet, like conscience, it made itself heard in the inmost chambers of the soul. His eloquence was gentleness and persuasion, reasoning for religion, humanity, and justice. He did not thunder or lighten. The rude elemental forces furnish no proper image of his power. Like sunshine, his words descended upon the souls of his hearers, and under their genial influence the hard in heart were softened, while the closely hugged mantle of prejudice and error dropped to the earth.