Extempore Speech: How to Acquire and Practice It

by William Pittenger

Of Luther it was said that “his words were half battles.” No man ever wielded greater power over the hearts of the people. He was an excellent writer, and had great command of words. But he was too terribly in earnest to write his discourses. From a vast fullness of knowledge he spoke right out, and evoked tears or smiles at pleasure. His strong emotions and indomitable will, being given full play, bore down everything before him.

It may well be doubted whether the eloquence of Lord Chatham did not surpass, in immediate effect, anything recorded of Demosthenes or Cicero. His example, and that of his equally gifted son, thoroughly refute those who deny that unwritten speech may convey impressions as strong as any ever made by man upon his fellows. Some of his grandest efforts were entirely impromptu, achieving overwhelming success under circumstances which would have left the man of manuscript or of memory utterly helpless.

Of William Pitt, the son of Lord Chatham, who was likewise an extempore speaker in the best sense of the word, Macaulay says:

“At his first appearance in Parliament he showed himself superior to all his contemporaries in power of language. He could pour out a long succession of rounded and stately periods without ever pausing for a word, without ever repeating a word, in a voice of silver clearness and with a pronunciation so articulate that not a letter was slurred over.”

These two men were never excelled in debate. They had that great advantage peculiar to good extempore speakers of being always ready. Every advantage offered was seized at the most favorable moment. Time wasted by others in writing and memorizing special orations they used in accumulating such stores of general knowledge and in such wide culture that they were always prepared. They came to great intellectual contests with minds un-fagged by the labor of previous composition, and their words were indescribably fresh and charming, because born at the moment of utterance.

The traditions of the almost supernatural eloquence of Patrick Henry are dear to the heart of every American school-boy. While few specimens of his eloquence survive, it is sure that he exerted wonderful power in speech, and that he contributed not a little to the establishment of the American Republic. He never wrote a word either before or after delivery, and his mightiest efforts were made in situations where the use of the pen would have been impossible. The Virginia Resolutions, which mark a vital point in the history of the Revolutionary struggle, were written by him on the blank leaf of a law book while a discussion was in progress. In the whole of the terrible debate which followed he was ever ready, speaking repeatedly and mastering every opponent. He was a great thinker, but a meager writer. History and human character were his favorite studies, and these contributed to fit his wonderful natural genius for coming triumph.

Among the great English preachers of the past century two were especially great as measured by the degree of popular influence they wielded. We do not wish to convey Wesley and Whitefield in any other light than as effective orators. They each did an amount of speaking that a manuscript reader would have found impossible, even if the latter had been hindered by no other consideration. At the beginning Whitefield did memorize most of his sermons. Even afterward he treated the same subject so frequently when addressing different audiences that the words, tones, and gestures, as well as the outline of thought, became quite familiar. Yet his own testimony is decisive as to the fact that he was not a memoriter preacher in the narrow sense of the term. He says that when he came to preach he had often, in his own apprehension, “not a word to say to God or man.” Think of a person who has a fully memorized speech, which he is conning over in his mind, making such a declaration, and afterward thanking God for having given him words and wisdom! Whitefield’s published sermons show few traces of the pen, but bear every mark of impassioned utterance. He spoke every day, until speaking became part of his very life. Think what a command of language, and of all the resources of speech, he must thus have acquired!

Wesley wrote many sermons, and on a very few occasions read them. He used the pen almost as much as the voice, but he wrote sermons, books, and letters for others to read, not as material for his own public reading. He was less impassioned and overwhelming than Whitefield but his sermons were not less effective. They were noted for the quality of exactness of statement. In the most easy and fluent manner he said precisely what he wanted to say. He was never compelled to retract an unguarded expression into which he had been hurried by the ardor of the moment. Yet his power over his hearers was not diminished by this carefulness. Scenes of physical excitement, such as attended the preaching of Whitefield, were even more marked under his own calm words.

We will refer to another deceased preacher, who presents the strange peculiarity of being an extempore speaker whose great fame has been acquired since his eloquent voice became silent in death, and now rests upon his written sermons. Frederick W. Robertson labored in a comparatively narrow field and finished his career in youth, but he was truly eloquent. His example proves that extempore speech may be the vehicle of the most profound thought and be crowned with all the graces of style. These qualities have given his sermons greater popularity in high scientific, literary, and philosophical circles, than those of any preacher of the present day. How could such extempore sermons be preserved? A few were taken down by a short-hand reporter, and although Robertson refused to allow their publication in his lifetime, thus leaving them without the benefit of his corrections, they are almost faultless in form and expression. Others were written out by his own hand after delivery, but these are more or less fragmentary. Had it been necessary for him to write and memorize each sermon, he could never have pursued those thorough studies, described in his letters, from which he derived so much of his power.

The great trio of American political orators belonging to the generation which has just gone from the stage—Clay, Webster, and Calhoun—were extempore speakers; Clay and Calhoun always, and Webster usually, speaking in that manner. The latter, however, was fond of elaborating some striking thought in his mind to the last degree of word-finish, and then bringing it forth in the rush of spontaneous utterance. This did not make his speech composite in the mode of delivery, for these prepared gems were short fragments, employed only for ornamental purposes. Competitors of these great men who were obliged to rely upon manuscript or memory stood no chance of success in the fiery debates through which they passed.