y should get on their feet to make
a motion or to speak in a public gathering, would paralyze them. The
mere thought of asserting themselves, of putting forward their views or
opinions on any subject as being worthy of attention, or as valuable as
those of their companions, makes them blush and shrink more into
themselves.

This timidity is often, however, not so much the fear of one's
audience, as the fear lest one can make no suitable expression of his
thought.

The hardest thing for the public speaker to overcome is
self-consciousness. Those terrible eyes which pierce him through and
through, which are measuring him, criticizing him, are very difficult
to get out of one's consciousness.

But no orator can make a great impression until he gets rid of himself,
until he can absolutely annihilate his self-consciousness, forget
himself in his speech. While he is wondering what kind of an
impression he is making, what people think of him, his power is
crippled, and his speech to that extent will be mechanical, wooden.

Even a partial failure on the platform has good results, for it often
arouses a determination to conquer the next time, which never leaves
one. Demosthenes' heroic efforts, and Disraeli's "The time will come
when you will hear me," are historic examples.

It is not the speech, but the man behind the speech, that wins a way to
the front.

One man carries weight because he is himself the embodiment of power,
he is himself convinced of what he says. There is nothing of the
negative, the doubtful, the uncertain in his nature. He not only knows
a thing, but he knows that he knows it. His opinion carries with it
the entire weight of his being. The whole man gives consent to his
judgment. He himself is in his conviction, in his act.

One of the most entrancing speakers I have ever listened to--a man to
hear whom people would go long distances and stand for hours to get
admission to the hall where he spoke--never was able to get the
confidence of his audience because he lacked character. People liked
to be swayed by his eloquence. There was a great charm in the cadences
of his perfect sentences. But somehow they could not believe what he
said.

The orator must be sincere. The public is very quick to see through
shams. If the audience sees mud at the bottom of your eye, that you
are not honest yourself, that you are acting, they will not take any
stock in you.

It is not enough to say a ple