J. BERG ESENWEIN DALE CARNAGEY - THE ART OF PUBLIC SPEAKING

the most attractive phrases. But a clerk, without a great deal of

education and experience, arose and told how he spent his boyhood days

in Ulster, how his mother while holding him on her lap had pictured to

him Ulster's deeds of valor. He spoke of a picture in his uncle's home

that showed the men of Ulster conquering a tyrant and marching on to

victory. His voice quivered, and with a hand pointing upward he declared

that if the men of Ulster went to war they would not go alone--a great

God would go with them.

The speech thrilled and electrified the audience. It thrills yet as we

recall it. The high-sounding phrases, the historical knowledge, the

philosophical treatment, of the other speakers largely failed to arouse

any deep interest, while the genuine conviction and feeling of the

modest clerk, speaking on a subject that lay deep in his heart, not

only electrified his audience but won their personal sympathy for the

cause he advocated.

As Webster said, it is of no use to try to pretend to sympathy or

feelings. It cannot be done successfully. "Nature is forever putting a

premium on reality." What is false is soon detected as such. The

thoughts and feelings that create and mould the speech in the study must

be born again when the speech is delivered from the platform. Do not let

your words say one thing, and your voice and attitude another. There is

no room here for half-hearted, nonchalant methods of delivery. Sincerity

is the very soul of eloquence. Carlyle was right: "No Mirabeau,

Napoleon, Burns, Cromwell, no man adequate to do anything, but is first

of all in right earnest about it; what I call a sincere man. I should

say sincerity, a great, deep, genuine sincerity, is the first

characteristic of all men in any way heroic. Not the sincerity that

calls itself sincere; ah no, that is a very poor matter indeed; a

shallow braggart, conscious sincerity, oftenest self-conceit mainly. The

great man's sincerity is of the kind he cannot speak of--is not

conscious of."

It is one thing to convince the would-be speaker that he ought to put

feeling into his speeches; often it is quite another thing for him to do

it. The average speaker is afraid to let himself go, and continually

suppresses his emotions. When you put enough feeling into your speeches

they will sound overdone to you, unless you are an experienced speaker.

They will sound too strong, if you are not used to enlarging for

platform or stage, for the delineation of the emotions must be enlarged

for public delivery.

1. Study the following speech, going back in your imagination to the

time and circumstances that brought it forth. Make it not a memorized

historical document, but feel the emotions that gave it birth. The

speech is only an effect; live over in your own heart the causes that

produced it and try to deliver it at white heat. It is not possible for

you to put too much real feeling into it, though of course it would be

quite easy to rant and fill it with false emotion. This speech,

according to Thomas Jefferson, started the ball of the Revolution

rolling. Men were then willing to go out and die for liberty.

_PATRICK HENRY'S SPEECH_

BEFORE THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION OF DELEGATES

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions

of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth,

and listen to the song of that siren, till she transforms us to

beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and

arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the

number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear

not, the things which so nearly concern our temporal salvation?

For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am

willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to

provide for it.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the

lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future

but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what

there has been in the conduct of the British Ministry for the

last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have

been pleased to solace themselves and the House? Is it that

insidious smile with which our petition has been lately

received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your

feet. Suffer not yourselves to be "betrayed with a kiss"! Ask

yourselves, how this gracious reception of our petition comports

with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and

darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of

love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to

be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our

love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the

implements of war and subjugation, the last "arguments" to which

kings resort.

I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its

purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign

any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in

this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of

navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us;

they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and

to rivet upon us those chains which the British Ministry have

been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall

we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten

years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing.

We have held the subject up in every light of which it is

capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to

entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which

have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir,

deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that

could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We

have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated, we

have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored

its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the Ministry

and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our

remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our

supplications have been disregarded, and we have been spurned

with contempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these

things, may we indulge in the fond hope of peace and

reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish

to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable

privileges for which we have been so long contending; if we mean

not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been

so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to

abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be

obtained, we must fight; I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An

appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak--"unable to cope with so

formidable an adversary"! But when shall we be stronger? Will it

be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are

totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in

every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and

inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by

lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of

hope, until our enemies have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are