CLONGOWES WOOD COLLEGE HISTORICAL 
 DEBATING SOCIETY. 
 
 THE (Pi 
 
 Of i ms t 
 
 'WVERSmr OF ILLINOIS 
 
 INAUGURAL ADDRESS: 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE OPENING OP THE ACADEMICAL SESSION, 
 
 1874-5' 
 
 BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE SOCIETY, 
 
 REV. J. J. O’CARROLL, S. J. 
 
 DUBLIN: 
 
 McGLASHAN & GILL, 50, UPPER SACKVILLE-ST. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY 
 AT URB ANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 OAK STREET 
 
CLONGOWES WOOD COLLEGE HISTORICAL 
 DEBATING SOCIETY. 
 
 INAUGURAL ADDRESS: 
 
 DELIVERED AT THE OPENING OF THE ACADEMICAL SESSION, 
 
 i874“5’ 
 
 BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE SOCIETY, 
 
 REVEREND J. J. O’CARROLL, S. J. 
 
 DUBLIN: 
 
 M C GLASHAN & GILL, 50, UPPER SACKVILLE-ST. 
 
TO 
 
 THE ME M 0 R Y 
 
 OF 
 
 JAMES ARTHUR DEASE, 
 
 HIS VIRTUES, 
 
 HIS ACCOMPLISHMENTS, 
 
 AND 
 
 HIS AFFECTION, 
 
 THIS SLIGHT WORK 
 
 IS INSCRIBED. 
 
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5Vo5 
 
 AN ADDRESS. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 Year after year we keep the annual opening of our debate, 
 by speaking about eloquence. We generally take this word 
 in its widest sense, and let it embrace in its significance all 
 good rhetoric and oratory. But to-night, I wish to direct your 
 attention to a narrower meaning of that well-known word, a 
 sense in which it is, I believe, strictly and even commonly 
 used without awaking any general observation. 
 
 I cannot but think, that, while we are often satisfied to let 
 the word Eloquence stand for good public speaking in a 
 general way, still, when we are strongly moved, when we use 
 the word Eloquence as the one appropriate word to express 
 one deep idea, we always mean something very different from 
 what is expressed by “ Oratory/’ An example will set best 
 before you what I mean. You will allow me to take one with 
 which many of us are probably already not unfamiliar. 
 
 When Sir Walter Scott makes a poor country girl meet 
 the Queen of England, and implore of her to obtain a sister s 
 pardon, the great writer puts touching words into the untaught 
 woman's mouth, and makes the sovereign's first answer to the 
 appeal, consist of three simple words, that seem almost wrested 
 from her: “ This is eloquence." Those few words are indeed 
 well chosen. They express at once the sense intended to be 
 conveyed, and which we see more fully, but not more clearly, 
 from the context ; that Queen Caroline is softened, overcome, 
 won over ; that she finds a glory in yielding to the petition ; 
 that she will do her best to save the life recommended to her, 
 and to console the heart that has poured forth its appeal. This 
 is what Sir Walter Scott meant to make us understand, and 
 he succeeded at once in doing so ; .for Sir Walter knew the 
 value of words well, and he chose here carefully “ Eloquence." 
 
 But if, on the contrary, he had made the royal lady ex- 
 claim, after hearing the poor petitioner to the close, instead 
 of “ This is eloquence," either “ This is oratory," or, still 
 worse, “ This is rhetoric," we should not have felt satisfied 
 
 A 2 
 
 b 
 
that the sovereign had done more than admire her subject’s 
 speech. A person who did no more, might certainly say after 
 the suppliant’s long prayer, that it had been truly oratory ; 
 this would mean only, that it had ably put forward grounds 
 for granting the request, that the cause would not fail for 
 want of a good advocate. Just so much would here suit well 
 the word Oratory. Even if the answerer believed that there 
 had been no deep feeling in the petition, that the piece had 
 been cleverly prepared, and that it might be well to hint as 
 much, the answerer might well use the words, “This is oratory.” 
 This latter sense would beyond question be understood, if the 
 words “This is rhetoric” were here ascribed. For the main idea 
 connected with rhetoric, is that of careful training in the art 
 of using words. With the word Oratory, the sense would have 
 been ambiguous. That word does not necessarily imply 
 special preparation, its main sense is able advocacy ; but its 
 use, in our case, would certainly have signified, not that the 
 listener had been touched, and softened, and overcome, but 
 that, with thorough self-command, she weighed intellectually 
 and duly estimated whatever had been said. This points to 
 a real difference in meaning, of kind , not simply of degree. 
 
 But Scott, who wished to represent something different 
 from this, put into the queen’s mouth the warmer exclamation 
 “ This is eloquence.” A person unmoved by the poor Scotch- 
 woman’s prayer, or struggling to repress an inclination to 
 yield to it, would not have used such words. The word Elo- 
 quence is never used as Rhetoric often, and Oratory sometimes, 
 is— ungraciously. Using it as Queen Caroline does, signifies 
 that she feels that she has been deeply and worthily touched, 
 and that, so far as might and right allow her, she will aid her 
 suppliant. So great was the meaning Scott desired to con- 
 vey, and he rightly chose his word. 
 
 It is clear, Gentlemen, even from this example alone, that 
 Eloquence, though sometimes a word used for Oratory, has, 
 nevertheless, one peculiar meaning, for which it and Oratory 
 cannot be interchanged. What, then, is that peculiar sense of 
 this great word ? I answer, it is this : Eloquence signifies, not 
 merely ability in the speaker, but also a worthy power in his 
 sentiments. Therefore it is, Gentlemen, that it can never be 
 used ungraciously. It points out always something good. In 
 its true, strict sense, it signifies, I am satisfied, the power of 
 enkindling the nobler feelings of the soul, the power of arousing 
 the sense of moral right, and virtue, and honour, with the sub- 
 lime and exulting joy, the lofty pride, which the soul must take 
 in what is good and great, when that is set clearly before man’s 
 inward spiritual vision. The appeal of Eloquence is the appeal 
 which carries its point by enlisting the feelings of magnani- 
 mity upon its side. The appeal of Oratory may be made in a 
 thousand other ways. It is only when made in the manner 
 
v 7 ; 
 
 just mentioned, that the Oratory deserves, in the strict, true 
 sense, the name of Eloquence. Oratory is assuredly not the 
 same as Eloquence. There are many orations which cannot 
 be termed eloquent, and yet must be acknowledged to be most 
 able and telling speeches. There are many isolated passages, 
 which are described no-how so well as by the word Eloquent, 
 and which do not belong to Oratory. It were not difficult, I 
 believe, to name men who were great orators, and not at all 
 eloquent, and men who were ‘but poor orators, yet elo- 
 quent to a high degree. Oratory is the power of persuading 
 great masses of men. Eloquence is the power of making the 
 soul exult in the idea of virtue and moral good. 
 
 Eloquence is indeed the true, appropriate ornament, and 
 support, and glory of Oratory. For the aim of Oratory is to rouse 
 to determination, somehow or other ; and Eloquence tends to 
 form resolution of the highest nature, that which springs from 
 the motives which enkindle heroism. But while it is thus true 
 that Eloquence is especially connected with Oratory, it is also 
 true that it is found where Oratory is not, where no direct ap- 
 peal is made to excite to a resolve — where a poet, for instance, 
 is engaged merely in a description. When the describer 
 touches strongly the loftier and more spiritual feelings of the 
 soul ; when he treats, movingly, not of the brilliant array of 
 great and disciplined armies, not of the m agnihcence of capitals, 
 not of the still more majestic and far lovelier beauties, of a 
 glorious landscape, but of something whose attraction is not 
 for the outer eye, of the calm grandeur of a noble mind amidst 
 misfortune, of the fidelity of a true friend amid disgrace, of the 
 unshaken valour of some forlorn and utterly abandoned gar- 
 rison, we feel that there is in the poetry something that is not 
 usually its own, and that the bard has risen to the height of 
 Eloquence. 
 
 It is in this way I understand the fine words so often 
 quoted, and ascribed to Burke, with regard to one of Sheri- 
 dan's speeches against Hastings : “ Every species of com- 
 position from Poetry up to Eloquence." For as Eloquence is, I 
 maintain, the name of that power in words, which affects those 
 higher feelings whose foundation is beyond sense; so is Poetry 
 the power which affects those lower, but still fine feelings of 
 taste, which may be said to have their first deep foundation in 
 the senses. Poetry, as its very name implies, is nothing else 
 than a representation so vivid, that, without attention to truth 
 or to connection with other things, it, by its very vividness, 
 arrests our attention, and forces our mind to pause and dwell 
 upon it with admiration and delight. But Eloquence is no repre- 
 sentation, no setting before us of bright images of such things 
 as our senses have learned to know. Eloquence, Cicero's 
 “ Sapientia copiose loquens," is Wisdom, speaking with words 
 which enkindle a love for the true, the lofty, the heroic ; 
 
( 8 ) 
 
 Wisdom, not prudence, not knowledge, but “ Sapientia/' that 
 splendid, sublime, and noble Wisdom which is so far above 
 the regions where “Prudentia” and “Scientia” are found, and 
 which is set before the mind to be loved and hankered after 
 for its own proud sake, with a magnanimous and eager joy. 
 
 But you will ask me, Gentlemen, what authority I have to 
 offer, for the view I am taking of Eloquence. You will very 
 properly observe that new views on such a subject as this, are 
 scarcely likely to be correct ; that though, when a matter 
 is new, we may naturally expect in it discoveries, still 
 when a subject has been handled for so many ages, by so 
 many great masters, as has been the case with Eloquence, it 
 appears presumptuous and idle to seek in it for anything 
 really new ; that if the doctrine I am maintaining has not the 
 authority of some distinguished name to support it, it can 
 scarcely deserve to be received. Gentlemen, I am happy to 
 say that I completely agree with you. Your sentiments on 
 this point are thoroughly my own. If I found my views on 
 this matter very singular, I should be strongly inclined to 
 think that they were very wrong. Let us see, then, Gentle- 
 men, what some received authority has said upon this subject. 
 
 I believe, Gentlemen, to try this case, we could not select 
 a better authority than Blair. That remarkable man was so 
 judicious and so calm a critic, so free from all rashness and 
 love of singularity, that if we find him supporting the view I 
 set forth, we need none of us be ashamed to maintain it in 
 our turn. Well, Gentlemen, let us examine Blair, and see 
 what he tells us with regard to Eloquence. 
 
 I give you notice that we shall have to examine the Scottish 
 doctor pretty thoroughly, to bring him to admit all that we 
 want. He will probably appear at first, to be saying some- 
 thing very different. I believe many have read him without 
 deducing from him the conclusion I want to draw. But I trust 
 that, with a little patience, I shall be able to make you see 
 that what I have said about Eloquence is really maintained 
 by Blair. In fact, if the thing is true at all, it must be, in 
 some form or other, in Blair. If true at all, it must be a rather 
 patent and fundamental truth in its own way ; and such a 
 truth on such a subject, Blair, who wrote so much about Elo- 
 quence with real ability, cannot be supposed to have kept 
 clear of everywhere. 
 
 Blair, when he begins to speak regularly of Eloquence, 
 certainly does not commence in a manner that ought to give 
 us much encouragement. We want to restrict the meaning of 
 the word Eloquence. We say it is not Rhetoric, it is not Ora- 
 tory. Blair commences by saying that it is Rhetoric, that it is 
 Oratory, and, moreover, that it is something else besides. 
 
 Treating of Eloquence, he divides it into three kinds. 
 
 “ The first and lowest/' he says, “is that which aims only 
 
( 9 ) 
 
 at pleasing the hearers. Such, generally, is the Eloquence of 
 panegyrics, inaugural orations, addresses to great men, and 
 other harangues of this sort/' 
 
 This, Gentlemen, is clearly what we term Rhetoric. 
 
 “ A second and higher degree of Eloquence/' says Blair, 
 “ is when the speaker aims, not merely to please, but also to 
 inform, to instruct, to convince." 
 
 This is no less clearly what we are accustomed to call 
 Oratory. 
 
 Blair continues : 
 
 “ But there is a third, and still higher, degree of elo- 
 quence." 
 
 And about this third kind of Eloquence the Scottish doctor 
 begins to grow very enthusiastic; he calls it for some time high 
 Eloquence, and finally, not satisfied with this praise, virtually 
 admits that this third kind of Eloquence is the only kind of 
 Eloquence that exists ; for he roundly declares that he who 
 has it not, can never be called eloquent. Here is a turning 
 of the tables, a change of front, indeed ! But let us listen to 
 the doctor’s words. 
 
 “ I am here," he says, “ to observe, and the observation is 
 of consequence, that the high Eloquence which I have last 
 mentioned is always the offspring of passion." 
 
 A little farther on : 
 
 “ This principle being once admitted, that all high Elo- 
 quence flows from passion, several consequences follow, which 
 deserve to be attended to." 
 
 And then, warming with his subject, as he speaks of 
 warmth, of passion,- — Blair himself grows at last bold, if not im- 
 passioned, and adds, among other consequences, the following : 
 
 “ Hence to call a man cold is the same thing as to say 
 that he is not eloquent." 
 
 There, Gentlemen, is an end indeed to Dr. Blair s three 
 kinds of Eloquence. The third kind was, according to him, 
 the offspring of passion ; and now, if a man has not the third 
 kind, if he is cold, according to the same Dr. Blair, in the 
 same lecture, he has not Eloquence, he is not eloquent at all. 
 The first kind of Eloquence, the Eloquence of panegyrics and 
 addresses to great men, which is assuredly not the offspring 
 of passion, will not make him eloquent, it is no longer to be 
 looked on as Eloquence at all ; neither will the second kind of 
 Eloquence do, the Oratory which not only pleases but informs, 
 instructs, convinces ; for this too is no offspring of the pas- 
 sions, and Dr. Blair will now admit nothing as eloquent, 
 save what belongs to his third degree of Eloquence. Why is 
 there this sudden and extraordinary change, in the language 
 and very definitions of the doctor ? I know well why. It is 
 because Dr. Blair, at Edinburgh a hundred years ago, spoke, 
 on the whole, the same English language which we all speak 
 
( 1 ° ) 
 
 here in the nineteenth century ; because he, like us, felt that 
 the word Eloquence was taken in two senses, that it might be 
 used loosely, to embrace all Rhetoric and Oratory ; but that it 
 had, too, a special, otherwise restricted, sense of its own, the 
 sense in which it is used when enthusiasm is kindled at its 
 name. 
 
 But, Gentlemeq, you will warn me that I am running on too 
 fast. You will tell me that I have no reason, as yet, to sup- 
 pose that Dr. Blair understands Eloquence precisely as I do 
 myself. You will say that it is clear that Dr. Blair took Elo- 
 quence in two senses, but that it is by no means proved as 
 yet, that his second and peculiar sense is the same as mine ; 
 on the contrary, you will observe that he speaks of it as the 
 offspring of the passions simply, while I expressly maintain 
 that it belongs only to those passions and feelings which are 
 g'reat and noble. 
 
 Gentlemen, you are very right, and I bow to your correc- 
 tion. I have indeed still to prove that Dr. Blair, who calls his 
 High Eloquence simply the offspring of the passions, really 
 believes that it is the offspring only of the noble ones. And, 
 to tell you the truth, I despair of gaining any further admis- 
 sions from our doctor's first lecture upon Eloquence. Perhaps 
 some one of you may be more fortunate. Perhaps I have not 
 sufficiently ransacked this lecture. But I abandon the hope 
 of eliciting any further confession from the doctor, here. He 
 clearly admits the use of the word “ Eloquence" in two senses; 
 in the second, high sense, he regards what it expresses as an 
 offspring of the passions. No examination or cross-exami- 
 nation of mine, has been able to force anything further for my 
 purpose, out of Dr. Blairs first lecture upon Eloquence. 
 
 But, Gentlemen, we have another piece of evidence. Dr. 
 Blair did not merely deliver lectures upon Eloquence. He also 
 delivered one upon the Means of improving in Eloquence. 
 And, Gentlemen, in this later lecture, the learned doctor lets 
 the whole truth out. 
 
 He here observes that there is a “ consideration" of “ im- 
 portance," concerning which he is “ not sure of its being at- 
 tended to as much as it deserves, namely, that from the 
 fountain of real and genuine virtue are drawn those sentiments 
 which will ever be most powerful in affecting the hearts of 
 athers. Bad as the world is, nothing has so great and uni- 
 versal a command over the minds of men as virtue. No kind 
 of language is so generally understood, and so powerfully 
 felt, as the native language of worthy and virtuous feelings. 
 He only, therefore, who possesses these full and strong, can 
 speak properly and in its own language, to the heart. On all 
 great subjects and occasions there is a dignity, there is an 
 energy, in noble sentiments, which is overcoming and irre- 
 sistible. They give an ardour and a flame to one's discourse 
 
which seldom fails to kindle a like flame in those who hear 
 and which, more than any other cause, bestows on eloquence 
 that power for which it is famed, of seizing and transporting 
 an audience/' 
 
 Gentlemen, I ask you, where are the unworthy passions 
 now ? Like Rhetoric, like Oratory, Dr. Blair has eliminated 
 them too’in their turn, and there remain for Eloquence now 
 only the noble passions, the good and lofty feelings of the 
 soul. Dr. Blair took some time indeed to work out his elimi- 
 nation. It was only completed, as you have seen, in a later 
 lecture. But he has done the work— he has done it very 
 thoroughly ; and I can repeat, with all the authority due to 
 his distinguished name, that Eloquence, in the strict, true 
 sense of the word, is the rousing, by language, of man’s 
 generous aspirations. 
 
 If it were in any sense necessary, I believe I could 
 show you, Gentlemen, that DeQuincey, who follows Blair 
 in calling Eloquence the language of the passions, fol- 
 lows him also in regarding it, in reality, as the language 
 which powerfully sets forth moral dignity. This doctrine is 
 surely true. No matter how magnificently the passion of 
 hate, for instance, is expressed, so long as what is expressed 
 is purely hate, the expression never can be eloquent. There 
 may, indeed, gleam forth in the very declaration of hate itself, 
 the tokens of something besides it, something nobler than it 
 can be, something, perhaps fatally, madly, servilely, mixed 
 up with it, but something which is not it. The man who 
 speaks the language ofhate, may also speak the language of 
 resolution ; and then, certainly not because of the language 
 of hate, but certainly because of the language of resolution, 
 he certainly will speak the language of Eloquence. It is 
 surely Eloquence, for man to say, he will be constant unto 
 death. But when, he declares he hates, if he expresses no 
 other sentiment than hate, no matter how beautifully, how 
 splendidly, apart from other sentiment, he may signify his 
 rage, his speech may be astounding, thrilling, awful, poetical, 
 but it will not be eloquent. It may have a beauty of its own, 
 but not that magic and ennobling beauty which makes the 
 generous heart throb faster, and feel an exquisite and proud 
 satisfaction as it beats. No man will feel himself urged to 
 call its hard, and stately, and dreadful, perhaps even over- 
 whelming splendour, by the touching and gladdening name 
 of Eloquence. As it is with the passion of hate, so is it with 
 every other that is not noble. Eloquence is not the mere 
 language of passion. It is the language of noble passion, 
 the lively language of virtue, “ Sapientia copiose loquens 
 the just expression of moral grandeur. When the grandeur 
 set before us is not moral grandeur, the image presented may 
 be brilliant, may be sublime, but not with the brilliancy or 
 
sublimity of Eloquence. The power of Eloquence is the power 
 of making the soul exult in the idea of virtue and moral 
 good. Precisely where that is, there is Eloquence. 
 
 Blair was indeed right in saying, that such a conside- 
 ration as this, appears not sufficiently attended to. But 
 upon you, Gentlemen, I trust it will not be thrown away. 
 Amongst you, as far as my feeble judgment allows me to 
 speak, I can say unhesitatingly that the noble germ of true 
 Eloquence is to be found. I believe, indeed, that it is far more 
 general than is commonly supposed. I trust you will not suffer 
 it to pine away for want of cultivation here. I trust you will 
 strive steadily to develop what power you have, of speaking the 
 manly and ennobling language which often rises to your lips, 
 warm with the consciousness of right and honour. I trust 
 that you will look on this great power, as most truly the 
 highest ornament of Oratory, and the mightiest instrument of 
 persuasion vouchsafed to man. I trust that you will feel that 
 it becomes you to study to develop this power in yourselves. 
 The natural gift of Eloquence is, as I have already said, in 
 my opinion, very general. It is often to be detected in a 
 sentence, sometimes in a word. It may be found in the un- 
 tutored prayer, with which a grateful beggar calls down a 
 blessing on a benefactor. But it is a work of labour and of 
 art indeed, to make it pervade a long composition, dealing 
 with facts and reasonings, with distinctions and objections* 
 and to make it so hallow and ennoble the whole speech, that 
 praise becomes due, like that which Cicero bestowed on 
 Demosthenes' great Oration on the Crown, — that the wonder- 
 ful composition, ably addressed as it is to a busy and strangely 
 mingled public, breathes nevertheless throughout, the spirit 
 of a magnanimous and sublime philosophy. To deserve 
 such praise as this, is indeed, I repeat, a work of much labour 
 and art, requiring much patient and careful study. But I 
 trust that study will, in many cases here, be cheerfully bestowed 
 upon the work. I believe the natural gifts are at hand, and there 
 is only required further a quiet, persevering, energetic, will. 
 
 But, Gentlemen, it is not merely as speakers that I 
 have to treat with you to-night. I have to address you 
 as critics, too. And as critics, no less than as orators, I 
 think you have much to gain from a due consideration of the 
 point on which I have been dwelling, the point to which, in 
 Dr. Blair's opinion, sufficient attention has not been paid. 
 You have seen, Gentlemen, that we have regarded Eloquence, 
 in the first instance, rather as a sort of material to be employed 
 in composition than as one definite form of composition itself. 
 We have contemplated its being employed where there was 
 no Oratory, in a history to some extent, for instance, or in a 
 poem : nay more, we have even recognised it where there’ 
 could scarcely be said to be any composition ; almost, if I 
 
( 13 ) 
 
 may borrow an analogy from our chemistry, as a free element, 
 and existing sometimes in quantities no greater than a mole- 
 cule. To tell the truth, Gentlemen, this is rather a chemical 
 view to take in criticism, this manner of analysing the 
 aesthetic nature of the very materials that go to make up a 
 composition, rather than sketching the general form, which 
 the composition as a whole presents. But, Gentlemen, pro- 
 vided the latter grand and comprehensive kind of criticism 
 be not abandoned, as it certainly never will, I think the 
 secondary, more material, more analytical kind of criticism, 
 may very advantageously be superadded and developed, far 
 more than has hitherto been done. The study of the great 
 forms things take, is grander than the study of their elements. 
 As History is above Antiquities, as Descriptive is above Ex- 
 perimental Science, so in Criticism, must the acquaintance 
 with a great composition, as a whole, rank higher than the 
 minute investigation of its elements. It is no wonder that 
 attention has hitherto been chiefly paid to the nobler and 
 more descriptive kind of Criticism. Even in the material 
 world, it is only within the past century that Chemistry has 
 been added to the list of sciences ; it is not surprising that 
 minute analytical investigation in Criticism, should as yet be 
 almost wholly without method. But though the world got 
 on very well without Chemistry for centuries, it certainly 
 gained something when that science at last was introduced. 
 And provided the literary world loses nothing of what it 
 already has acquired, I believe it will gain considerably, by 
 developing, to some extent, regular analytical investigation 
 into the very elements, the very molecules and atoms of 
 all literary composition. If we are careful never to lose 
 sight of poems and histories and orations, as great forms 
 of composition, which in their complex unity have a 
 real nature and definite power of their own, we shall lose 
 nothing, but, on the contrary, understand them all the better, 
 ifwe note at the same time carefully, that one poem embraces in 
 itself, for instance, many elements whose charm is that of Elo- 
 quence, not Poetry, while a second is rich in the beauties of 
 History, and a third in its minutest parts has no ornament 
 except those immediately belonging to Poetry itself. Noting 
 such things as these, how much one history for instance makes 
 use of the elements of Poetry and another of those of Eloquence 
 to recommend it, how poetical one speech is in its vivid 
 picturings, how eloquent another, and so on, we need not 
 lose sight of the final effect produced by the whole, but, keep- 
 ing it steadily before our view, we may come to know the 
 whole more thoroughly. 
 
 No doubt it is necessary that the elements should be distin- 
 guished, not arbitrarily, but by each one of them really having, 
 like Eloquence, a definite and peculiar aesthetic value ; but I 
 
do not believe that it would be difficult to form a proper 
 division of this kind. Once there is question of aesthetic 
 value, once we pass beyond mere information of the mind> 
 and seek to present forms, to submit ideas to it, in a manner 
 that of its own nature shall delight aesthetically ; not of course 
 because the notions may be new, which is the chance and 
 transient pleasure of news ; not because the notions may be 
 odd, that is, naturally unexpected, and therefore, if I may 
 venture to say so, naturally to ordinary minds new , wherein 
 consists the tolerated half-despised pleasure of humour in all 
 its branches, from wit to the grotesque ; once we pass beyond 
 these lowly pleasures, whose foundation is Curiosity, and seek 
 to put ideas before the mind which shall powerfully and intel- 
 lectually delight ; — we find surely that we can do so only in 
 one of four ways, with which the w^orld is already well ac- 
 quainted. If there is something that adds value to an idea 
 beyond the mere information it conveys, or the interest of 
 curiosity it excites, that value must consist either in associa- 
 tion of its knowledge or in power of impressing ; the value 
 must arise from bringing other ideas to bear on it, and by 
 their connection and intimate union with it, extending its 
 original comprehension ; or by setting forth vividly the 
 charms which that idea itself can have for man, by showing 
 the sublime or beautiful that dwells within it. Now the value 
 of connection may arise in two well-known ways, and that of 
 intrinsic charm in two ways also. The connection may be 
 necessary, or in other words philosophical, and accidental, or 
 in other words historical. In this way we have the philo- 
 sophical and historical elements of delight for the intellect. 
 The intrinsic charm may be founded in representation of 
 what affects the senses, and so be poetic ; or else in what 
 transcends them and is Eloquence. We should thus have 
 above the attractions of curiosity the four great elements of 
 philosophical , historical , poetic , and eloquent delight. But 
 this is a subject which I must not pause to develop now. I 
 desire at present merely to point out in a general way to 
 you, that a minute criticism of the very elements of composi- 
 tion is perfectly possible, and would be surely not uninterest- 
 ing to one who pursued it in his reading. 
 
 Before concluding, Gentlemen, I wish to submit to you at 
 some length, a striking illustration of much that I have said 
 to-night ; an example that sets strongly before our eyes, how 
 much Eloquence may do, how widely it maybe spread, in 
 what different kinds of writing it may be found, how clearly 
 it may belong to one who on the whole, as an author, is of no 
 great fame ; in fine, when found, how carefully, with what 
 precision, if I may use the term, it may be worked in, to suit 
 the composition of which it is to be a part. 
 
 You remember, Gentlemen, the panegyric on Cardinal 
 
Wolsey which Shakspeare, in the solemn and touching play 
 of King Henry VIII., makes Griffith pronounce, in answer to- 
 Queen Catherine. It is certainly one of the peculiarly great pas- 
 sages, in the works of the great English dramatist. The whole 
 dialogue in which it occurs, is declared by Dr. Johnson to be 
 above any other part of Shakspeare' s tragedies, and perhaps 
 above any scene of any other poet. That whole dialogue 
 is unquestionably magnificent. And in that magnificent pro- 
 duction of genius, the wonderful author himself ascribes a 
 special and striking power to this one passage. It is a 
 speech, a little bit of Oratory, a defence of the fallen and dead 
 Cardinal, addressed to the divorced and dying Queen, who 
 complained of him on many grounds. And Shakspeare makes 
 this difficult and hazardous speech successful, he makes it 
 so from the Eloquence that is in it, from its power of rousing 
 pure and generous and noble feeling, or, to use his own words,, 
 put into the mouth of Catherine, 
 
 “ With thy religious truth cmd modesty .” 
 
 Shakspeare makes this speech, this piece of Eloquence , this 
 magnanimous appeal, play the great part in his grand 
 dialogue. He makes it produce one of the most extraordinary 
 of effects. He makes it suddenly win over to a fallen foe, 
 admiration and forgiveness on the part of an embittered and 
 injured sovereign, in the very hour of the last agony of death.. 
 
 "Whom I most hated living thou hast made me, 
 
 With thy religious truth and modesty, 
 
 Now in his ashes honour. Peace be with him ! 
 
 Thus, therefore, Gentlemen, the mighty poet, who of all men 
 knew best how to estimate the influence of words on the 
 character and hearts of men, shows us that he himself judged, 
 there was no improbability in supposing the eloquence of 
 this little speech of Griffith, sufficient to produce the extra- 
 ordinary change set before us, in the disposition of the dying 
 Catherine. This is a high judgment indeed, in favour of the 
 power of Eloquence, and of the Eloquence of this one passage.. 
 
 And this high judgmentbeyond question is correct. Appeal 
 from Shakspeare to his critics if you will! They will tell you 
 that they find the development of Queen Catherine's last 
 thoughts most natural ; pathetic and sublime, no doubt, but 
 above all gentle and natural. See how the quotation from 
 Dr. Johnson on this point concludes. This great scene “is 
 tender and pathetic, without gods or furies or poisons or pre- 
 cipices, without the help of romantic circumstances, without 
 improbable sallies;" Gentlemen, note these words : “without 
 improbable sallies of poetical lamentation, and without any 
 throes of tumultuous misery." 
 
 Perhaps some might prefer a more practical critic to Dr. 
 Johnson. It will be easy here, to satisfy even such unreason- 
 
( 16 ; 
 
 able gentlemen. For Mrs. Siddons agreed thoroughly with 
 Dr. Johnson, in looking on the whole character of Queen 
 Catherine in Henry VIII., not only as not improbable, not 
 only as natural, but as the most natural of all Shakspeare' s 
 female characters. Now, Gentlemen, that a dialogue in which 
 such a change of feeling as Queen Catherine's takes place, 
 should charm especially by its natural simplicity, shows that 
 the power which calls forth the change appears fully ade- 
 quate to the effect, and must be great indeed. That power 
 in this scene, where there are no gods or furies, and, what is 
 more, no improbable sallies of poetical lamentation, that great 
 and adequate power is, wholly in the Eloquence of the speech 
 of Griffith. 
 
 You will tell me, that such Eloquence is to be found only 
 in the works of Shakspeare, or some other whose name, like 
 his, is one of the glories of the world of letters. Gentlemen, 
 I shall here at last be obliged reluctantly to differ with you. 
 I have been agreeing with you all along till now. But here 
 I cannot do so. This magnificent passage before us, its sen- 
 timents and even its very words, are found in a work, little 
 noticed, whose author is mainly known by having early died 
 a very glorious death, the death of a traitor under Queen Eliza- 
 beth,* years upon years before William Shakspeare, living 
 in peace under King James, published to the world the great 
 work of his mature age, his play of Henry VIII. The cha- 
 racter which Shakspeare there gives ofWolsey, is given by 
 Father Edmund Campion, in his little History of Ireland, 
 written before he became a Jesuit. It is given, where he 
 describes a scene before the Privy Council in London, which 
 must have for us a special interest. 
 
 This neighbourhood has had lately cause to lament the death 
 of a great nobleman, to whose courtesy we have often been in- 
 debted. We know how the history of his ancestors was en- 
 twined with the general history of our country. We know ofthe 
 hard struggles the Earls of Kildare went through, to maintain 
 that high position which their race has held, through so many 
 centuries in Ireland. It was as Edmund Campion was des- 
 cribing the bold address of one of the great Earls at a Privy 
 Council where Wolsey sat, as he was describing its effect on the 
 English lords who listened, that he paused for a moment in 
 his narrative, to depict the prelate abhorred by all the noble- 
 men, in those very colours which Shakspeare has made so 
 successfully his own. Campion wrote as follows : 
 
 “ They all hated the Cardinall. A man undoubtedly born 
 to honour, I thinke some Prince's — no butcher's sonne, ex- 
 ceeding wise, faire spoken, high-minded, full of revenge, 
 vicious of his body, lofty to his enemies, were they never so 
 
 * Father Campion was executed in 1581, when Shakspeare was in his teens. 
 
( *7 ) 
 
 bigge, to those that accepted and sought his friendship 
 wonderful courteous, a rype schooleman, thrall to affections, 
 brought a bed with flattery, insatiable to get and more prince- 
 like in bestowing ; as appeareth by his two Colledges at Ips- 
 wich and at Oxenford, th’ one suppressed with his fall, th’ 
 other unfinished and yet as it lieth an house of students (con- 
 sidering all appurtenances) incomparable through Christen- 
 dome, whereof Henry the Eighth is now called founder, 
 because hee let it stand. He held and enjoyed at once the 
 Bishopricks ofYorke, Durham, and Winchester, the dignities 
 of Lord Cardinall, Legate, and Chancellor : the Abbey of St. 
 Albans, diverse Prioryes, sundry fat Benefices in . Commen- 
 dam : a great preferrer of his servants, advauncer of learning, 
 stoute in every quarrell, never happy till his overthrow. 
 Therein he shewed such moderation and ended so patiently 
 that the houre of his death did him more honour than all the 
 pompe of life passed.” * 
 
 Gentlemen, I know a number of points are here opened 
 for discussion, or at least investigation. Why should Shak- 
 speare have copied ? That he should have taken up old 
 plays to arrange anew for the convenience of his theatre, is 
 easily understood. But that in his great play of Henry VIII., 
 the quiet and mellowed production of his age, that he who 
 was so rich should have transplanted a character of Wolsey 
 as he has done — why was this ? What manner of man was 
 the wonderful William Shakspeare ? And why amongst all 
 mankind did William Shakspeare copy from Edmund Cam- 
 pion ? Was Shakspeare, as some have thought, an adherent of 
 the old faith ? Had he, directly or indirectly, special intercourse 
 with Jesuits or the books of Jesuits ? Or rather, had he not 
 sometime seen, in the library of the splendid Earl of Leicester 
 
 * “ This cardinal 
 
 Though from an humble stock undoubtedly 
 Was fashioned to much honour from his cradle. 
 
 He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one : 
 
 Exceeding wise, fair spoken and persuading : 
 
 Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, 
 
 But to those men that sought him sweet as summer. 
 
 And though he were unsatisfied in getting 
 (Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam, 
 
 He was most princely : ever witness for him 
 Those twins of learning that he raised in you, 
 
 Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him, 
 
 Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; 
 
 The other, though unfinished, yet so famous, 
 
 So excellent in art, and still so rising, 
 
 That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
 
 His overthrow heaped happiness upon him ; 
 
 For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 
 
 And found the blessedness of being little : 
 
 And to add greater honours to his age 
 
 Than man could give him, he died fearing Go I.” 
 
 B 
 
( i8 ) 
 
 at Kenilworth, the little tract which Campion wrote on Ireland 
 and dedicated to that very nobleman, the favourite of Eliza- 
 beth, the patron for some short time of Edmund Campion ? 
 Was it not there that Shakspeare' s keen eyes noted this very 
 passage ?* Did not that same bold arm which once, it is said, 
 laid low Justice Lucy's deer, seize without hesitation on the 
 obscure Irish tract, that might suit the dramatist's purpose ? 
 But was not that purpose rather an unselfish than a wholly 
 vulgar and ambitious one ? Did not the wild, glorious Will, 
 careless of his own fame, think more of improving his drama 
 than his reputation ? May he not have sought rather to 
 make Henry VIII. a fine play, than to gain for William 
 Shakspeare a great name ? These are questions, Gentlemen, 
 that I leave to you to settle — during the holidays. They are 
 very interesting — if indeed it were only possible to answer 
 them. But with them I have nothing to do. My subject is 
 Eloquence, and connected with Eloquence, I have here only two 
 points to urge, First, that the splendid little gem of Eloquence 
 before us, is found in Campion : Secondly, that Shakspeare, 
 after having seized on this Eloquence, took most remarkable 
 pains to make it suit his purpose. 
 
 In the first place, Gentlemen, the eloquent description of 
 Wolsey's character is found in Campion ; that is, in one 
 whose name has scarcely found a place in the annals of litera- 
 ture. That name, indeed, has long been dear to Jesuits 
 and to Catholics ; it is a missionary's and a martyr's name, 
 the name of one of the noblest heroes of this earth ; a name 
 which there is, at this moment, hope to see solemnly pro- 
 nounced Blessed by the Church. But on the praise of 
 Campion I have not now to dwell. How his talents and 
 acquirements early gained for him position and respect at 
 the University of Oxford ; how it was his, when Queen Eliza- 
 beth visited the great seat of learning, to be a spokesman to 
 her majesty ; how graciously the sovereign received his 
 address and commended him to the protection of the Earl of 
 Leicester ; how kindly Leicester took him up ; what a pros- 
 pect of gradually increasing prosperity, and gradually rising 
 
 * No supposition of very immediate intercourse with Campion seems likely to yield 
 here the satisfactory explanation. Even if Father Edmund himself did specially treat 
 with John Shakspeare at Stratford-on-Avon, it will scarcely be supposed that 
 he communicated his History of Ireland to the Alderman, who it is feared had never 
 learned to read and write. 
 
 On the other hand, if, as is stated, Campion’s MS. was found in the Cottonian 
 Library, it may well indeed have come from Kenilworth. It would certainly not 
 have been the only volume among Cotton’s books proceeding from the House of 
 Leicester, as poor Sir Robert knew unfortunately to his cost. 
 
 Many, however, will think that Shakspeare read Campion’s character of Wolsey, 
 not in manuscript, but in print. In the second volume of Holinshed, printed in 
 1587, we find at page 917, Campion’s character of Wolsey given in full, as taken 
 from “Campion in his History of Ireland.” In 1587 Shakspeare was only twenty- 
 three years of age. 
 
( l 9 ) 
 
 fame, was before him in his early manhood; how a lion came 
 to stand in his path ; how the awful thought of Eternal Truth 
 and Eternal Salvation arose before him ; how he, like many 
 converts in our own day, felt that he could no longer rest in 
 Oxford, nor in any belief that Oxford tolerated ; how he went 
 forth from the old place and from the new Church, to be what 
 he had been in his childhood, a Catholic of the old stamp, obe- 
 dient on the old terms to the Roman Pontiff and his Apostolic 
 See ; how things went harder with the neophyte than has 
 been the case with the noble converts of our own time ; how 
 he sought a refuge in Ireland, and had to flee from it in dis- 
 guise within a year ; how he escaped with strange adventures 
 by sea and land ; how he laboured as a Jesuit for some years 
 abroad, and at last at home; how he was arrested and tor- 
 tured cruelly, and still more cruelly deceived ; how for a time 
 his name w^as in all men’s mouths ; to what an extent the 
 curiosity of that stern queen herself, who had once marked 
 him for favour in his youth, was roused by the Jesuit’s strange 
 fame ; how magnanimously he bore himself at trial ; how un- 
 dauntedly he met his doom ; — all this is a history which does 
 not concern us here. I believe, indeed, no more interesting 
 book could be written than one which should recount faith- 
 fully and fully the chequered life of Edmund Campion. The 
 Flanders and Moravia, the Prague and Dublin and Vienna, 
 the Oxford and Geneva, the Rome and London, the English 
 sea-coasts and the English manorhouses of the sixteenth 
 century would all find there their place and their description; 
 wonderful scenes of religious controversy, of hiding-places, of 
 disguises, of escapes, of joyful and perilous meetings, of 
 treachery and ferocious persecution, of unflinching fidelity 
 and faith, would abound in the pages that told Campion’s 
 story. But our point is, that this man made no mark in the 
 world of letters, and yet had in him a wonderful gift of Elo- 
 quence ; that we have here a striking example of Eloquence, 
 apart from all oratory and literary success ; that it is clear 
 that this glorious element of literary beauty and power is to 
 be met with outside great orators and famous works. This 
 point is plain and certain. Should any one wish to insist on 
 something more, I shall make no resistance. If any one 
 maintains that Edmund Campion possessed great literary 
 talents in many ways, I will confess that I thoroughly share 
 in that opinion. I believe his little history of Ireland contains 
 abundant evidence of high and varied natural talent for letters. 
 But all this would only go to prove that not Eloquence alone, 
 but literary talent in general, is more widely diffused than the 
 annals of literature itself would show. From that doctrine I 
 by no means dissent. I have no quarrel whatever with the 
 view of life so beautifully put forward in Gray’s “ Elegy in a 
 
 B 2 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 Country Churchyard/' I believe indeed that great talents are 
 more common than is commonly supposed. But I am not 
 concerned with that whole question now. My subject to-night 
 is Eloquence, and Eloquence alone. And for Eloquence I 
 venture to think that the illustration I have brought forward 
 is striking and decisive. 
 
 But, Gentlemen, I have a second great point to deal 
 with, as illustrated here. While, on the one hand, the element 
 of Eloquence is widely diffused ; on the other hand, the use, 
 the proper application of it, calls for a great deal of patient 
 labour and enlightened study ; and this second point must be 
 shown you, brilliantly illustrated by Shakspeare's example 
 with regard to Campion's Eloquence. 
 
 At first, Gentlemen, we might be inclined to think that the 
 direct contrary of what I want to show was illustrated here ; 
 that Shakspeare's way of dealing with what he took from 
 Campion showed that one had only to find luckily and boldly 
 take. For there is little change of what Campion said, in 
 Shakspeare. There were, of course, some evident alterations 
 to be made ; these were made by Shakspeare, but would 
 have been made by any one with ease. Campion's character 
 w~as # meant as a complete one of the Cardinal. In Shak- 
 speare, Griffith is made ask leave merely to “ speak his good."* 
 Reference is indeed made to faults of the Cardinal by Griffith, 
 but made most tenderly. He has undertaken to “ speak his 
 good." The strongly unfavourable expressions Qf Campion, 
 as “ thrall to affections," “ full of revenge," and the long list 
 of the Cardinal’s preferments, naturally find no place in 
 Griffith's speech. Instead of the long list, we are simply told 
 that Wolsey “was unsatisfied in getting, which was a sin." 
 But these are easy and obvious alterations. But, on the 
 other hand, what is in Griffith's speech with regard to Wol- 
 sey's character, is almost all from Campion, in words, Gentle- 
 men, no less than sentiment ; touched indeed anew by the 
 great master, but surely, delicately and sparingly touched, 
 even by that marvellous and mighty hand ! Shakspeare seems 
 here to have been almost himself afraid of painting the lily 
 and gilding refined gold! All this is undoubtedly true, Gentle- 
 men, but there is more behind. 
 
 It is undoubtedly true that the changes Shakspeare has 
 made are very slight, but, at the same time, they are very 
 subtle, and testify, by their very delicacy, to deep and accurate 
 thought. If we examine Shakspeare's handiwork carefully, 
 we shall find that he has made a radical change in the order 
 of presenting the ideas, in order to adapt the passage to his 
 work : we shall find he has, for the same purpose, remarkably 
 
 * In Queen Catherine’s speech just preceding, there are expressions which will seem 
 to many suggested by the very passages in Campion which Griffith’s appeal omits. 
 
toned down something that in Campion was very brilliant, and 
 gloriously illustrated a portion which in Campion was more 
 subdued. The dramatist cogged no doubt. That old Shaksperian 
 word is not likely ever to grow completely obsolete in Colleges. 
 He cogged, but he cogged like a genius as he was, not like a 
 brainless schoolboy. He cogged, but his very cogging seems to 
 have cost him more labour than original composition costs ordi- 
 nary men. Campion starts with a view of Wolsey’s character 
 and spirit. Shakspeare begins by calling attention to Wolsey’s 
 studies and the gradual development of his talents and his 
 fortune. For Campion supposes at the outset that the great 
 Cardinal was secretly of princely birth, “ no butcher' s son.” 
 For Campion, therefore, it was most natural, in consequence, 
 to dwell at once on the lofty spirit and natural endowments 
 of the high-born boy, calling him exceeding wise, fair-spoken, 
 high-minded ; and, passing on, to point out later his develop- 
 ment as a ripe schoolman, and a prince-like patron of learning. 
 But this would not do for Shakspeare. He was putting into 
 oratorical form the eloquent description of character, which 
 he had found as an historical observation or note in Campion. 
 Hewas turning it into the earnestand pathetic pleading of (Grif- 
 fith, addressed to Catherine. It would not soothe tho wounded 
 feelings of the daughter of Ferdinand the Catholic to be told 
 that the man she blamed was a kind of prince whom she 
 would have contemned ; much less would it have softened her 
 to hear that such a petty princeling had naturally a lofty tem- 
 per. Shakspeare knew that a woman like the queen, was to 
 be won over otherwise. So he presents Wolsey to her as the 
 poor scholar, whose high qualifications had gradually raised 
 him to his place among the great ones of the land. Shaks- 
 peare avoids all question, in Griffith’s mouth, of Wolsey’s 
 being sprung from any other than humble stock. He avoids 
 it so anxiously, that he makes us almost feel he was seeking 
 to avoid it. Griffith is made begin by declaring that Wolsey’s 
 birth was low : 
 
 “ This Cardinal 
 
 Though from an humble stock undoubtedly 
 
 Was fashioned to much honour from his cradle.” 
 
 Editors, ignorant of what Campion wrote and Shakspeare 
 read, do, I believe, very generally make the “ undoubtedly ” 
 relate to the line that follows it. For my part I am inclined 
 to think it was meant to refer to the words about “ humble 
 stock,” in its own line. I can understand Shakspeare, with 
 the idea of a different stock before his eyes, commencing by 
 disclaiming it, even too solemnly and strongly. In the other 
 sense, referring the word “ undoubtedly” to the fashioning to 
 much honour, the expression has always appeared to me 
 most unnecessary. The proof of Wolsey’s fashioning follows 
 
( 22 ) 
 
 clearly in Griffith's speech. There is no need to preface proof 
 by a negation of all doubt: If people were ignorant, however, 
 of the doubt raised as to Wolsey' s parentage, they would 
 apply an objection of this kind to what is in the first line too, 
 and say there is still less room there for vehement asseveration. 
 But, as we see, this is not the case. Nevertheless, I must 
 candidlyadmit,thatas the word “undoubtedly" occurs in Cam- 
 pion with regard to Wolsey' s destination to great honour, and 
 as Shakspeare admits that destination, though not in the same 
 way, he may be supposed to have coupled with it this very 
 word “ undoubtedly," which he certainly found referred to it 
 in Campion. 
 
 Be this detail as it may, at all events Shakspeare 
 begins, quite unlike Campion, with the supposition that 
 Wolsey was of lowly birth. He cannot, in consequence, pro- 
 ceed at once, like Campion, to describe the Cardinal's lofty 
 spirit, as wffiat might be at first expected. Campion called 
 Wolsey “ undoubtedly born to honour.'’ Shakspeare has 
 here to change a word. He calls Wolsey, not “ born/' but 
 “fashioned to much honour from his cradle." In short, 
 Shakspeare has now to trace the fashioning to honour of a 
 low-born boy, and he proceeds to describe him rising, through 
 his talents, with his training : 
 
 “He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one.” 
 
 Next comes the 
 
 “Exceeding wise, fair-spoken,” 
 
 of Campion himself. 
 
 But the “ high-minded/' which follows immediately in 
 Campion's description of the prince’s son, the man born to 
 honour, does not appear here in the narrative of the rise of 
 the humble scholar. Shakspeare chooses a better word to 
 serve his peculiar purpose. Griffith's Wolsey is 
 
 “ Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading.” 
 
 And, now, Gentlemen, we come to what is, in my opinion, 
 most highly characteristic. We shall now find Shakspeare 
 actually lessening beauties that are in Campion, toning them 
 down wisely, to suit his end. 
 
 Shakspeare has : 
 
 “ Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, 
 
 But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.” 
 
 Campion had : 
 
 “ Lofty to his enemies were they never so big, to those that accepted and sought 
 his friendship wonderful courteous.” 
 
 I think it impossible to deny that there is something 
 
( 23 ) 
 
 grander and more princelike in the description Campion 
 gives. The man who was “ lofty to his enemies were they 
 never so big/’ was surely a finer and more royal figure than 
 the man who was 
 
 “Lofty and sour to them that loved him not.” 
 
 Campion's Wolsey is every inch a prince. There is really 
 an idea of condescension and high courtly bearing in the ex- 
 pressions : “ to those that accepted and sought his friendship 
 wonderful courteous/' which is not to be found in Shak- 
 speare's 
 
 “ But to those men that sought him sweet as summer.” 
 
 But Shakspeare's “ Lofty and sour to them that loved him 
 not/' is a very portrait of a sensitive and aspiring poor scholar. 
 His effusive “ Sweet as summer/' is a picture of such a one’s 
 deep-felt gratitude. He has set a new form before us instead 
 of the prince's son, and Shakspeare animates this new form 
 thoroughly. He completely tones down the loftier language 
 of Campion, which suited splendidly the supposed child of lofty 
 birth, but which would have been certainly out of place in the 
 description of the rise of the poor scholar. The great poet, 
 Gentlemen, did his cogging very judiciously. 
 
 We shall now see him show his judgment in another way ; 
 not by toning down, but by improving, when it suits his pur- 
 pose, what Campion said before him. Wolsey has at last 
 grown great in Griffith's description ; and magnificent lan- 
 guage like Campion's, and more magnificent still, will suit 
 him now. He is now 
 
 “ In bestowing, madam, 
 
 • • • • most princely,” 
 
 just as Campion said he was “ prince-like in bestowing." 
 
 He is no longer the rising scholar. Shakspeare may now 
 speak of him as a very prince. Now Shakspeare will put 
 forth his power, and will outdo and outshine his model. He 
 is writing poetry, and Campion wrote only prose. He keeps 
 steadily in the same direction as Campion, but he soars above 
 him. He takes Campion's fine account, no other, of the Col- 
 leges at Ipswich and at Oxford ; it ran in rich, high-sounding, 
 and yet plain prose, thus : 
 
 “His two colleges at Ipswich and at Oxenford, th’ one suppressed with his fall,, 
 th’ other unfinished, and yet as it lieth an house of students (considering all appur- 
 tenances) incomparable through Christendom.” 
 
 Shakspeare turned this into the beautiful and highly orna- 
 mented verses — 
 
( 2 4 ) 
 
 ‘ ‘ Ever witness for him 
 
 Those twins of learning that he raised in you, 
 
 Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him, 
 
 Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; 
 
 The other though unfinished yet so famous, 
 
 So excellent in art and still so rising 
 
 That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.” 
 
 Campion closed his description very quietly. He was 
 bound to subside. He was returning from a digression to 
 the main course of his narrative ; so he gave a short recapitu- 
 lation of what he had said, as follows : 
 
 “A great preferrer of his servants, advancer of learning, stout in every quarrel.” 
 
 And then he added : 
 
 “ Never happy till his overthrow". Therein he showed such moderation and ended 
 so patiently that the hour of his death did him more honour than all the pomp of life 
 passed.” 
 
 But Shakspeare required something different from this. 
 He was not winding up, like Campion, to enter on a different 
 kind of subject. He was not writing a short dissertation in 
 a history. He was making a pathetic appeal in a dialogue. 
 He would use at the close, the most glowing and solemn 
 language that he could. 
 
 For Campion's “Never happy till his overthrow," the 
 great poet wrote : 
 
 “His overthrow^ heaped happiness upon him.” 
 
 For Campion's “moderation" Shakspeare gives us: 
 
 “ The blessedness of being little.” 
 
 Instead of Campion's “did him more honour than all the 
 pomp of life passed," Shakspeare wrote the exquisite lines : 
 
 . “ And to add greater honours to his age 
 Than man could give him ; ” 
 
 and he concluded with those words of deepest meaning, in 
 their strong antithesis to all earthly glory, 
 
 “He died fearing God.” 
 
 I ought, I believe, to apologise for having detained you so 
 long on the subject of these passages. But I thought that 
 they must interest us all. That English language, which of all 
 men Shakspeare spoke best, which Father Edmund Campion 
 too spoke worthily, is for all of us our mother-tongue ; our 
 Country is the Country of which Edmund Campion wrote, our 
 Faith is the Faith for which Edmund Campion died; and we 
 are, all of us, passing some of the best years of our life in a 
 college of the Society for which he abandoned every hope of 
 earth. 
 
( 2 5 ) 
 
 And in truth, Gentlemen, it is useful to us for our own 
 immediate objects to-night, to observe as we have done, how 
 thorough, how careful, how judicious, was Shakspeare’s 
 copying. I believe the evidence of his peculiar care to make 
 the most of what he found in Campion, would astonish many, 
 would give to many a thoroughly new idea of what Shak- 
 speare really was. It is, most surely, a glimpse of the real 
 man. I hardly doubt, moreover, that if the literature of 
 .Shakspeare’s times, the books and manuscripts that then 
 existed, were more carefully studied, new light would be 
 thrown on his tastes and ways, his opportunities of reading, 
 his judgment in selection, his industry and his cast of thought. 
 But what interests us and must interest us most deeply to- 
 night, is that, with all his extraordinary genius, his industry 
 was so painstaking, so calculating, so studious of consistency, 
 so careful of the slightest details in expression ; so careful 
 when Eloquence was at hand, to adapt it thoroughly to the 
 Oratory in which it was to shine. This illustrates indeed, 
 Gentlemen, the point I was endeavouring to urge most 
 strongly upon you ; that it behoves you to cultivate your 
 Eloquence with an anxious and almost painful care, if 
 you really mean it to set its glorious stamp upon your 
 Oratory. 
 
 Gentlemen, the proper development of natural talent is no 
 slight or easy work. Few bring to ripeness the intellectual 
 gifts they have received. It was Dr. Johnson that asked, 
 was it not ? what becomes of all the clever schoolboys. How 
 is it, that so few in later years have done anything for letters 
 worthy of the rich promise of their early prime ? For some 
 indeed, as for Edmund Campion, the answer is to be given, 
 that they found something better and higher to do, and that 
 at the call of duty or of heroism, they abandoned the hopes 
 of genius and of fame. For others, the answer is to be found 
 in circumstances which were independent of them. But for 
 many, the answer must be, not that they ought not, or that 
 they could not, but that they would not when they both 
 could and might ; not that they had anything better to do, 
 but that they made out something worse. Many clever 
 schoolboys have become insignificant men, merely because 
 they had not application and perseverance ; because they 
 would suffer the evil that was in them to grow, rather than 
 develop the good ; because rather than gain a mastery over 
 the high powers which they had from God, they preferred to 
 let idleness and carelessness establish their tyranny over 
 splendid intellects and generous dispositions. In various 
 degrees, in various departments of intellectual life, the world 
 has witnessed this. Not least of all, in what interests us 
 specially here, the field of Oratory. Many who were nobly 
 
( 26 ) 
 
 gifted with real Eloquence, from neglect of the necessary 
 training, and study, and pains, and patience, have never suc- 
 ceeded as they might have done in Oratory, where Eloquence 
 is of most avail. 
 
 I believe this is a point which should come home to 
 us in a very peculiar manner. Irish Eloquence is a term 
 very often used. And it is applied sometimes in a sense 
 not wholly complimentary. It has been taken to signify a 
 kind of Oratory, brilliant indeed and touchingly impressive, 
 yet strained and forced beyond the limits of good taste. It 
 has always been fully recognised, that there is on it the stamp 
 of genius. It has been often maintained, that its evident 
 marks of genius have been to some degree disfigured, from 
 want of a severer and more critical judgment. Gentlemen, 
 the great distinguishing mark of talent in Irish Oratory has 
 certainly been Eloquence. We are sometimes told it has 
 been Poetry, the offspring of a brilliant imagination. But, 
 Gentlemen, that is not the case. It is only from confounding 
 the peculiar nature of Poetry with that of Eloquence, the 
 images founded on the experience of the senses, with the lofty 
 sentiments which transcend it, that the glorious character- 
 istic of Irish speeches has been described as a kind of Poetry. 
 To tell the truth, Gentlemen, though our countrymen have 
 done their part in English Poetry, I do not see, that, com- 
 pared with their neighbours, they can be said to have done 
 more. It would seem strange that it should be so, if Poetry 
 were so very marked a characteristic of our mind. In Ora- 
 tory, Irishmen have contributed far more than their share to 
 the enduring monuments of English Literature ; and what 
 they have done here, is marked, not universally indeed, but 
 still generally, with a characteristic which forms their glory ; 
 the deep and penetrating and sympathetic sense for virtue 
 and moral worth, for what is good and honourable and lofty. 
 That this feeling was strong and enthusiastic in this country, 
 was attested long ago by striking evidence. Before Sir John 
 Davies, under King James, bore his well-known testimony to 
 Irishmen’s love of justice, even against themselves, Edmund 
 Campion had borne still stronger witness with the less well 
 known words : “ The same being virtuously bred up or re- 
 formed, are such mirrors of holinesse and austeritie that other 
 nations retain but a shewe or shadow of devotion in com- 
 parison of them.” 
 
 We know, ourselves, Gentlemen, that in our dealings with 
 one another, we can count strongly upon this feeling of en- 
 thusiasm for what is honourable and right. We know how 
 often amongst ourselves the motives of expediency are feeble 
 beside those of honour. For my own part, treating with you, 
 this spirit has often made me call for disinterested sacrifice. 
 
and has caused me not to be disappointed. It is this spirit 
 which has set its mark, not universally, I say again, but still 
 in a general and characteristic manner, on the noblest efforts 
 of the noblest minds amongst our countrymen. That generous 
 enthusiasm which we all feel strongly, many of us have had a 
 singular power to express. This it is, not Poetry, which 
 forms the one peculiar common charm of Irish Oratory, from 
 the magnificent orations of Burke, and the glorious harangues 
 of Grattan, down to the speeches, in our own day, of Lord 
 O'Hagan and Chief Justice Whiteside, of Mr. Sullivan and 
 Mr. Butt. Not Poetry, Gentlemen, not imagery , though that 
 too may be found, it is not that which is the one grand pre- 
 dominant feature in those noble compositions. If any one of 
 you imagines that he will most closely copy the excellencies 
 of Irish orators by indulging in metaphors and figures of all 
 kinds of thought and speech, that gentleman is very much 
 deceived. It is not, in Irish orations, the play of fancy, the 
 pictures of the imagination, that impart to them their main 
 power, their great charm. It is the mighty appeal to what is 
 best and noblest in ourselves, to the eternal sense of rectitude 
 in Man, to stainless honour and generous fair play, to un- 
 yielding courage and unfailing faith. It is the sympathy with 
 great natures, roused in us by these appeals, be they made 
 directly or indirectly, that constitutes the real charm of what 
 is known as Irish Eloquence. 
 
 Nay, Gentlemen, I believe I might almost venture farther 
 as a critic. I believe that while this true Eloquence is 
 the strong part of our Oratory, its weakness lies, to no 
 inconsiderable extent, in what approaches to the nature 
 of Poetry. I believe that many passages in Sheridan, for 
 instance, that on the whole are admirable, are so, not on 
 account of the figures with which they abound, but in spite 
 of them ; and that a general strain of manly and noble 
 feeling which pervades those passages has cast a halo not 
 their own around the images there found. This is unques- 
 tionably the case with regard to Curran's celebrated apos- 
 trophe to Lord Avonmore in court, over which Jeffrey and 
 Philips fought. The figures there are of course all wrong ; 
 the Scotch reviewer was clearly right so far. And yet the 
 passage which moved Lord Avonmore so deeply on the 
 Bench, has continued, in spite of criticism, to touch men still. 
 For it is conceived in the very spirit of an appeal to the 
 noblest sentiments of our nature, and, in spite of rhetorical 
 errors, that appeal is feelingly expressed. Eloquence exerts 
 its powder here. And, to tell the whole truth, I think it has 
 often done so in our poets too. I think a great deal that is 
 admirable in our poets is admirable from eloquent rather than 
 poetic beauty. Goldsmith charms us still more by the honest 
 
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 sympathy with which he fills our hearts for men, than by the 
 power with which he pictures them and things. And Moore, 
 the bard who fled 
 
 “To the bowers 
 
 WTiere pleasure lies carelessly smiling at fame,” 
 
 Who was born for much more , and in happier hours , whose soul 
 might have burned with a holier flame ; he was surely at his best 
 when a glorious vista did gleam, and he made men mark 
 how he too could nobly feel. If the passages in these two 
 great poets of Ireland which refer to high and virtuous 
 sentiment were lost, I believe the great beauty of their 
 writings would disappear. This would not be commonly the 
 case with poets ; scarcely, I think, with Milton himself ; cer- 
 tainly not with Scott. In both Moore- and Goldsmith, I think 
 their picturing is inferior to their power of touching, sometimes 
 with a master's hand, the best chords of the heart. Eloquence, 
 Gentlemen, is indeed one of the gifts of Nature to our Nation. ’ 
 I am sure it has been liberally bestowed on you. But, as I 
 have already hinted, the very term “ Irish Eloquence ” must 
 remind us, that that great gift alone is not sufficient ; that 
 patience and training, judgment and study, are imperatively 
 required too. 
 
 Addressing you, therefore, Gentlemen, as I have the best 
 right to do to-night, not as critics, but as boys who are to 
 strive now, that they may if possible be speakers when they 
 are men ; I call on you specially, in your speeches, beyond all 
 rhetorical figures, and all poetic imagery, to cultivate the 
 precious element of real Eloquence. It is the truest ornament 
 and greatest power of speech. It is the ornament and power 
 for which we can look amongst you, with the most lively con- 
 fidence. But it is a gem which, to produce its full effect, must 
 be set splendidly ; and whatever Eloquence God may have 
 given to you, you will never make it shine as fully as you 
 ought, without much study and much practice. Gentlemen, 
 do your best. Already many of those who once held your 
 places here, are called to that great Senate, with which, as 
 with the Agora of Athens and the Roman Forum in the days 
 of old, the name and power of Eloquence in our own time are 
 intimately entwined. See, Gentlemen, that when in your 
 turn, you are called to fill those places which old Clongowes , 
 scholars occupy to-day, you may be ready to do so as becomes 
 yourselves and as becomes your Country. Strive all to do 
 your best. It may be indeed that some may be turned aside 
 from a path of fame to walk a more glorious way ; that others 
 may be prevented, by unfavourable circumstances of various 
 kinds, from exercising ever on any great scale the power of 
 Eloquence ; that some may discover truly that, even in the 
 
( 2 9 ) 
 
 most favourable circumstances in the world, they never could 
 have Eloquence of a high order to display. But those who 
 here 'and elsewhere do their best, have one triumph — the 
 greatest of all, of which no adverse circumstances can deprive 
 them, with which no heroic call of duty can interfere — the 
 consciousness that in nobly doing their best they have done 
 that very thing which it is Eloquence to be able even to de- 
 scribe. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 NOTE ON CAMPION AND SHAKSPEARE’S CHARACTER OF 
 
 WOLSEY. 
 
 The point in which Shakspeare’s wording of this character differs most from 
 Campion’s own, is perhaps where Wolsey’s Colleges at Ipswich and at Oxford are 
 declared to “witness.” This fine expression is, it appears, to be found in Campion, 
 in immediate connection with the subject of these two colleges. In Mr. Simpson’s 
 Life of Campion, published by Messrs. Williams and Norgate .in 1867, we read at 
 page 9 : “That at Ipswich” (says Campion) “was destroyed by Henry. The other 
 at Oxford is Without comparison grander than any college in Europe, and endowed 
 with an income of about ^3,000. At the present day Henry is called its founder, 
 simply because he did not upset it and confiscate its revenues after the Cardinal’s 
 death. Witness the verses carved in great letters over the entrance when Elizabeth 
 made her visit,” &c. For this quotation, Mr. Simpson refers us to “ Campion, Nar- 
 ratio Divort. Hen. VIII.” It might really be well worth while to study, in connection 
 with Shakspeare, the more strictly Catholic literature of his period. 
 
 With regard to Campion’s Irish History itself, Mr. Simpson makes the following 
 interesting observation at page 35 : 
 
 “ The most striking thing about the book is the vast dramatic power of the 
 speeches which he introduces, according to the custom of the historians of his day. 
 The taste which we have here is sufficient to make us regret both that the tragedies 
 which he afterwards produced at Prague were written in Latin, and that they are lost. 
 Some of his orations only want metre to be comparable with those of his great dra- 
 matic contemporaries .” 
 
 And at page 37 : 
 
 “ I have thought it worth while to give these specimens of an eloquence that suc- 
 ceeded beyond that of all contemporary rivals in transfusing the vigour and polish of 
 Cicero into a language that was only struggling into form. Campion’s fame in 
 England was built upon his eloquence ; and it is only by the speeches of this Irish 
 History, which his scholar Stanihurst calls ‘ tickle-tongued,’ because its author 
 ‘ did learn it to speak,’ and by the report of his defence at his trial, that we can 
 estimate a power which appears to have swayed all who listened to him.’’