CHAPTER III.
SPEECHES AND MEETINGS.
The Volunteers are organized, not to do the easy things that have been done in the past and are now being very satisfactorily done by others, but rather to do what others have left, and are leaving, undone. In communities where the New Democracy is strong and the people are already in the habit of gathering periodically and during political campaigns nightly, it requires no organization of Volunteers to provide men to instruct and amuse them to their entire satisfaction. Our work is to do what others have not done and cannot do; to gather crowds where others have failed; to create interest where there is no interest; to make friends where we have no friends, and, WHERE WE ARE ALREADY STRONG AND DOMINANT IN A COMMUNITY, TO TEACH OUR FRIENDS AND BROTHERS TO SO SYSTEMATIZE THEIR EFFORTS AND ENTHUSIASM AS TO BE MOST USEFUL IN EDUCATING AND GAINING THE SUPPORT OF LESS ADVANCED COMMUNITIES ELSEWHERE.
In arranging indoor meetings, it is essential, in order that our work may be fruitful, to get out other than what is known as "the same old crowd." There are a few people of both parties in every community who are always interested in politics, and who attend nearly all party meetings. On such, ammunition is largely wasted. A speaker should never be satisfied to address a small crowd, the majority of whom are already in accord with his principles. His object should be to bring in new men, to get in fresh blood. The motto of each of us should be, "I came not to bring the righteous, but sinners, to repentance."
To secure the attendance of the non-political class, it is, therefore, expedient, in addition to the regular speeches, to provide some form of entertainment, such as vocal and instrumental music, a dramatic rendition, or a children's performance.
When an audience is assembled particularly to enjoy the entertainment and incidentally from curiosity to see and hear the strange speaker, it is well for the speech to be built from materials furnished by the local performers. If children have participated, there is no happier way to begin than by telling how enjoyable were their songs and recitations, how thrilling the thoughts born of their happy faces and hearts throbbing with youthful hopes. The speaker might tell how, looking into their bright eyes, his thoughts turned toward the future, where he saw the obstacles against which these children will have to contend, the difficulties they will meet in getting started in life, the unfair advantages over them possessed by the children of special privilege. By taking the children who participate as a text and riveting the attention of the audience upon them instead of considering the rights of men in general, he can gain at once, not only the attention, but the sympathy and the very hearts of those who listen.
If the entertainment is a musical one, the speaker might begin by describing the state of mind produced by the sweet harmonies just listened to. By recalling the difference between the discord produced by ten men tuning their musical instruments and the harmony resulting when they play the same instruments together, he has an illustration applicable in several ways: suggesting the harmony and orderliness of the state that we are fighting for, the economy of concert in our political methods, and numerous other points, which, if given in a conversational way, will arrest the attention of even the women and the children. Let him then proceed with simple axiomatic truths that can be grasped by every hearer, abundantly illustrated, and the crowd will be induced to attend future meetings.
There are a thousand cues given and illustrations suggested by a preliminary entertainment that can be made the gateway to the sympathies, affections and intelligence of those who listen. Convince the audience that the questions treated are neither abstract nor incomprehensible, but simple and tangible, and concern their personal welfare and the future of their families, and self-interest will impel them to listen to specific arguments backed by facts and figures.
The Volunteer who aspires to attract vast audiences and transplant the hopes and thoughts that flourish in his own mind to the fertile soil of other minds, must first learn that the passion to instruct, though a noble instinct, must be curbed ruthlessly, else instead of an orator the "would-be" will find himself a bore. The passion to impart knowledge, like the other human passions, when given free rein to exercise itself unrestrained, defeats its own ends and at last destroys itself.