But, as you value your independence of mind--yes, even your vigor of mind--do not read other men"s opinions upon the subject before you have clearly thought out your own conclusions from the premises of the elemental facts.
As to style, seek only to be clear. Nothing else is important. Never try to be elegant or striking.
Consider the method of the Saviour in His addresses to the people.
Next to Him, those perfect specimens of the art of putting things are the speeches and epistles of St. Paul. I know of nothing in literature so clear, convincing, and logical.
The words of the Master astonish one with their absolute unity with all the rules of effective address.
Especially His method of driving home a truth by repeating it, and that, too, in exactly the same words, is noticeable and very effective. He did not fear that He would be tiresome; He was concerned only in being clear. Take the following examples--Matthew vii:
24. Therefore, whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock:
25. And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.
26. And every one that _heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them_ not, shall be _likened unto a_ foolish _man, which built his house upon_ the sand:
27. _And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell:_ and great was the fall of it.
Or study this--Matthew v:
29. And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into h.e.l.l.
30. _And if thy right_ hand _offend thee_, cut _it_ off, _and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into h.e.l.l_.
Or this--Matthew xxv:
34. Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:
35. For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
36. Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.
37. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we _thee an hungered, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink_?
38. When saw we thee _a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee_?
39. Or when saw we thee _sick, or in prison, and came unto thee_?
40. And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
41. Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels:
42. For _I was an hungered, and ye gave me_ no _meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me_ no _drink_:
43. _I was a stranger, and ye took me_ not _in: naked, and ye clothed me_ not: _sick, and in prison, and ye visited me_ not.
44. Then shall they also answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee _an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee?_
45. _Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it_ not _to one of the least of these, ye did it_ not _to me_.
_Observe the exact repet.i.tion of entire sentences._ Consider Antony"s funeral oration over the dead body of Caesar, and note the same mastery of the art of repet.i.tion.
But, like all powerful weapons, it is dangerous to one who is not a natural speaker. It might easily be fatal, for remember that we are advised to "use not vain repet.i.tions, as the heathen do, for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking."
Do not be epigrammatic. Never "coin a phrase." Never make a sentence for the purpose of having the newspaper quote it next day. Usually such sentences are not quoted. Even if they are, these artificial arrangements of words never live. The reason is that they _are_ artificial--they do not have the vitality of sincerity. Let your striking expressions come naturally as the climax and flowering of your thought. Then they will live. They will live because they will be truthful--natural. Nothing but the sincere endures.
In political speaking, seldom be harsh, seldom denounce, seldom "pour hot shot into the enemy" as our newspaper head-liners put it. Men in other parties are not your enemies or the country"s--they are fellow Americans to whom you are trying to show the truth as you see it. I like to believe that all Americans are patriots, inspired by sincere concern for the common good and the welfare of the Republic.
There is nothing in denunciation--nothing in abuse--nothing but bad taste. "There is no particular argument in slander," exclaimed Ingersoll in one of our fervid campaigns. The man who "pours hot shot into the enemy" is using an obsolete method. Don"t you use it, young man. _You_ be reasonable, considerate, earnest only to show your hearer that you are in the right. This rule is unvarying except, of course, when great crises occur, when treason is afoot, the Nation"s honor in danger, and the like. But such seasons of peril are rare.
In all speaking be moderate in statement. Over statement is very dangerous; under statement subtly powerful. Moderation! I know but two words so potent--honor and industry. Honor, industry, moderation! What can prevail against this trinity! And in young men moderation is peculiarly beautiful.
I doubt if any man can be a great speaker who does not have in him the religious element. I do not mean that he shall be good (one may be good and not religious, or religious and not be good, as any professor of mental and moral philosophy will tell you), but that he shall have in him that mysticism, that elemental and instinctive conviction of the higher power and its providence, which makes him in sympathy with the great ma.s.s of humanity. I think Ingersoll had this element in him, notwithstanding his attacks upon religion.
Emerson has pointed out that the great speaker--yes, and the great man--is he who best interprets the common feeling and tendency of the ma.s.ses.
Very well; the profoundest feeling among the ma.s.ses, the most influential element in their character, is the religious element. It is as instinctive and elemental as the law of self-preservation. It informs the whole intellect and personality of the people.
Therefore he who would greatly influence the people by uttering their unformed thought must have this great invisible and una.n.a.lyzable bond of sympathy with them. I will let your preacher work this out more elaborately for you.
One word more; and to this word listen and hearken and bind it on the tablets of your understanding.
Insincerity cuts the heart out of all oratory.
You may marshal your arguments and concoct your pretty devices of words, and work yourself into a great heat in the speaking of them; but if you do not believe what you say you are only a play-actor after all--a poor mummer reciting your own lines.
You had far better be a professional actor; that will, at least, insure you excellent lines to declaim. The dramatic profession is devoted to the interpretation of art in one of its highest forms. A true actor is a true artist--painter and sculptor no more so.
If Polus stands on a lower pedestal than Praxiteles in mankind"s esteem it is because his genius was not so brilliant and not because the art of acting is less n.o.ble than that of sculpture. Talma was more eminent than David. Bernhardt is as noted and notable as Millet, Irving as distinguished as Millais; while in our own country not more than two men in painting and sculpture deserve places beside Booth and Forrest as high priests of Art.
That your audience applauds you is nothing. The same audience would applaud Paderewski or a great prestidigitator. You see, your audience may applaud you because you have put your thought cleverly, or juggled your words attractively, or thrown over them that magnetic spell which all great personalities have. It may clap its hands because you have entertained it.
But what has all this to do with the truth? And why are you speaking at all, unless it is that you, knowing the truth, are trying to show the truth to others? So do not seek to arouse applause for its own sake. If it comes naturally, spontaneously, it is a pleasant tribute to your cause. But if you win it by your art, it is merely a tribute to your powers. And you are not speaking for yourself--you are speaking for your cause.
The wife of one of the most effective of American speakers is reported to have said to him: "I wish you would deliver a speech which no one can possibly applaud." Of course what she meant was that she would like to see him devote himself to getting the truth before the people without resorting to any of the tricks of oratory.
No matter how much a wizard of words Nature may have made him; no matter that he has the dark art of making the worse appear the better reason; no matter that his golden voice is like music, and his very appearance pleasantly thrills you with the strange and subtle magnetism of the man: if he have not sincerity, all these are nothing.
And he cannot affect sincerity and fool the people very long. He may fool them in one speech or in one campaign if he be a political speaker, but ultimately the people will sense his moral quality and he will be discredited.
This very thing happened to a celebrated American speaker who may be said to have been endowed with genius. There was no resisting the man while he was speaking. But he never was honestly in earnest. He never really cared for his cause. There was never a moment when he could not have spoken as effectively for the other side.
Finally this got through the consciousness of the people, and his power over their convictions speedily dissolved.
Many years ago a business friend of mine heard this man speak on a notable occasion. His address was on a subject in which the people were deeply interested, and was a masterpiece of mingled argument and pathos; and his audience belonged to him. It had no mind but his, no will but his.
Afterward my friend said to me: "That man will not last; he is not honest. At one climax so pure, so exalted, so tender, that I found tears in my own eyes, I saw him wink at some intimate friends who were sitting in a stage-box at his right. I was between them. They were watching him as they would have watched a friend who was an actor. He, on his part, was showing them what he could do. That wink said: "See how I did that. Now observe me closely! I will throw still another ball of emotion into the air and juggle with it, too.""
And sure enough, he did not last. His tropical mind lasted, his chameleon imagination lasted, his compelling personality, his grace, charm, witchery of words--all these lasted; but all these were nothing without that honesty which would make him die rather than speak for a cause in which he did not believe, or be silent when a cause in which he believed was at issue and in peril.