occasional address can succeed unless it fits the occasion to a T. Many

prominent men have lost prestige because they were too careless or too busy or

too self-confident to respect the occasion and the audience by learning the

exact conditions under which they were to speak. Leaving _too_ much to the

moment is taking a long chance and generally means a less effective speech, if

not a failure.

 

Suitability is the big thing in an occasional speech. When Mark Twain addressed

the Army of the Tennessee in reunion at Chicago, in 1877, he responded to the

toast, "The Babies." Two things in that after-dinner speech are remarkable: the

bright introduction, by which he subtly _claimed_ the interest of all, and the

humorous use of military terms throughout:

 

Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen: "The Babies." Now, that's something like. We haven't

all had the good fortune to be ladies; we have not all been generals, or poets,

or statesmen; but when the toast works down to the babies, we stand on common

ground--for we've all been babies. It is a shame that for a thousand years the

world's banquets have utterly ignored the baby, as if he didn't amount to

anything! If you, gentlemen, will stop and think a minute--if you will go back

fifty or a hundred years, to your early married life, and recontemplate your

first baby--you will remember that he amounted to a good deal--and even

something over.

 

"As a vessel is known by the sound, whether it be cracked or not," said

Demosthenes, "so men are proved by their speeches whether they be wise or