It is true, as M. de Cormenin remarks, that the people are fond of expressive gestures, such as are visible at a distance, and above the heads of the congregation; that they also like a powerful and thrilling voice; ... but all this cannot be kept up long, for preacher and hearers soon, grow tired of it. Then, again, the people are fond of variety, and a monotonous voice sends them to sleep. That the delivery of a sermon should sometimes be accompanied with significant gestures, and that emotion should occasionally vent itself in an outburst, is all well enough; but compress such power as much as possible, so that it may be felt that you possess within your own soul a force threefold greater than you outwardly manifest. ... The more vehement you wish your sermon to be, the more you should restrain the air in its passage, forcing it to make its way in thrilling explosions and a resounding articulation. Then many will fall by the sword of the word. 3dly. Action should be edifying. The bearing of a man who speaks in the name of the Gospel should be full of grace and truth. It is most desirable that he should possess knowledge and talent, but those endowments do not suffice; he must possess, in addition, a virtuous, yea, even a holy exterior. Frenchmen are much more sensitive on this point than is usually thought. A godly man at once inspires their respect and veneration; and were a saint to appear in our midst, it is certain that he would reproduce many of the scenes of the middle ages. A saint is essentially a man beloved by the people, because he is surrounded with a Divine halo. {261} The Christian orator makes his appearance with simplicity and modesty. He kneels and bows profoundly, rises up, and then looks round upon his audience with a kindly expression, devoutly makes the sign of the cross, and then begins his sermon, thinking only how to arrest the attention of his hearers. The time is happily long gone by when the preacher used to enter the pulpit with great formality, a flushed countenance, and hair most carefully got up; then place by his side a fine white handkerchief, sometimes of costly silk, which ever and anon he methodically passed over his face. These airs no longer suit the times: the preacher nowadays must not be engrossed with self, with his handkerchief, or his surplice, or his hair; neither must he cause others to be taken up with such trifles. In the pulpit the man should disappear, and the apostle alone be seen. ... The people, who have an exquisite notion of propriety, are very sensitive on all such matters; and God often derides our affected words and actions by rendering them vain and barren, and by making use of the most insignificant things to convert the souls of men. {262}