The only trouble with most court oratory
is that it is only fit for the market-place. The lawyer begins with
the firm impression that he must win the jury. His voice is bland and
soothing, he feels that he must be soft and persuasive. He rubs his
hands and remembering the old adage, that laugh and the world laughs
with you, attempts a little joke. There is nothing so good as to get a
smile for his side. Perhaps the joke does not go very well and the
laugh does not come; the point has missed. He will try what flattery
can do.
"Men of your intelligence can readily see," he says.
"When I was examining you," he explains in a subtle way. "I knew at
once how unprejudiced and fair-minded you were."
"You gentlemen are practical men and can understand." Yet somehow the
jury are impervious. They sit back in their chairs and stare.
Then the lawyer begins to forget the object of ingratiating himself.
Hypnotized by the memory of his client's wrongs, he works himself into
a frenzy of feeling. He swings his arms, pounds with his fist, raises
his voice, and thunders his denunciation. His speech takes on a
threatening tone. He shouts and bawls; the jury must be waked up. They
sit stolid and unmoved.
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