Beecher’s ordinary lectures give but little indication of his real power. They are written and read in the same form to numerous audiences. But his genius finds free play only when the manuscript is abandoned. Then, when he speaks for a cause in which his heart is enlisted, we have an example of what mortal eloquence can be. We once heard him at a large meeting which he had visited as a listener. A long and rather dull speech had been made by the orator of the evening. But Beecher was seen, recognized, and called out. Every murmur was stilled. Laughter and tears succeeded each other with marvelous rapidity; but he closed by a daring apostrophe, spoken in a low tone, that thrilled to every heart, and held all spell-hound for some moments after he had ceased to speak! It seemed the full realization of every dream of the might and power of eloquence.
ANNA E. DICKINSON.
This lady was born in 1842, and while quite young became celebrated as a public speaker. She has not won her present position by a single brilliant effort, but by long continued exertions and the display of solid talent. She is a member of the Society of Friends, and early imbibed the hatred of oppression and slavery for which that denomination is distinguished. Her principal public speeches have been given in the service of freedom, and to secure a higher position and a wider range of employments for women. Her own example, as well as her teachings, has been one of great value to her sex.
When Miss Dickinson began to speak she had no powerful friends to aid, and for a time her audiences were quite small. But she was too firm and devoted to the cause she advocated to grow discouraged. And there was something so attractive in her manner, that opposition was soon overcome, and her audiences grew continually. She was so truthful, earnest, elegant, and strong, that before she was twenty-one years of age she was recognized as a power in the political world, and few voices more eloquent than hers were lifted up on behalf of liberty and justice during our civil war. She has also taken part in political canvassing with great success. Her reputation as a lyceum lecturer is fully established. In all the cities of the United States where she has spoken large and enthusiastic audiences have greeted her.
In speaking, she is modest, graceful, and unconstrained, with an air and manner of perfect naturalness. There is no elaborate ornament in her words, but they are always well chosen, and flow with the utmost ease. Her discourses are logical, and usually bear upon a single point with overwhelming force. Without the slightest attempt at stage effect, she frequently displays deep emotion, and becomes totally absorbed in her subject. Her voice is full, clear, melodious, and perfectly distinct; it is persuasive, well modulated, and equally capable of expressing pathos, and scorn, and command.
With such abilities she cannot fail to be popular, and her influence, which is always for good, is steadily widening. Yet in order to display her full power, she requires a subject that enlists her sympathies, and in a mere literary lecture, although always instructive, she does not produce the same vivid impression as when roused by some injustice, or pleading the cause of the oppressed and feeble.
The manner of preparation by which this lady, who takes rank with the best of American orators, has acquired such power over words and hearts, merits attention; in response to our inquiry, she says:
“For the first three years of my public life, speaking, with me, was absolutely extempore; that is, I gave a general look over the field before I rose to my feet, then talked. Since then, I consider my subject—let it lie in my mind, and gather fresh thoughts—statistics—what not—almost unconsciously—as a stone gathers moss.
“When I wish to make the speech, I arrange this mass in order and form—make a skeleton of it on paper, and leave the filling in till I reach the platform—then some things I have thought of are omitted, and others thought of at the time, are substituted. The speech changes here and there for some time, and then gradually crystalizes—that is all. I mean, of course, what is called a regular lyceum speech. The political speeches are made very much on my old plan.”