Friday, September 3, 2010

Thinking about Speaking

So I'm not sure exactly where this is going... It's certainly going to wander.

I've been thinking a lot recently about speeches. I've always had a particular love of the "St. Crispin's Day" speeches; The calls to war. The speech that makes you want to pick up a gun, or a sword, or a pointed stick and fight against the evil; at the very least it makes your neck start to tingle.

I think there's more to this than content... I think there has to be. People's beliefs are too varied, opinions to divergent to possibly appeal to the masses on that scale. You can't get "the people" prepared to die for a cause with words alone because the things people are willing to die for are too personalized and separate. "The people" aren't that unified.

So what makes a person able to unify them? Sure, there are the well documented logical and ethical arguments that are generally talked about as the tools of the speechwriter, spinner, story-teller or manipulator... whichever you want to say (and I would contend they're all valid.)

But I think there must be more. There is some evidence that there are some innate connections between music and the human species. Most of you have already seen this I'm sure, but it's become relevant here. Everyone in that audience got it. That is rather telling. I'm not going to claim to know why it works, but it apparently does.

Even more of a stretch is bringing up the now well known Where the Hell is Matt? video. What makes it relevant is that it's again demonstrating a unifying factor among unrelated and divergent people around the globe.

So back around to the St Crispin's Day speeches. It's going to be long, but I feel like I need to post the original in it's full.
WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here 

But one ten thousand of those men in England 

That do no work to-day! 
 


KING. What's he that wishes so? 

My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin; 

If we are mark'd to die, we are enow 

To do our country loss; and if to live, 

The fewer men, the greater share of honour. 

God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. 

By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, 

Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; 

It yearns me not if men my garments wear; 

Such outward things dwell not in my desires. 

But if it be a sin to covet honour, 

I am the most offending soul alive. 

No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England. 

God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour 

As one man more methinks would share from me 

For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! 

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, 

That he which hath no stomach to this fight, 

Let him depart; his passport shall be made, 

And crowns for convoy put into his purse; 

We would not die in that man's company 

That fears his fellowship to die with us. 

This day is call'd the feast of Crispian. 

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 

Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, 

And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 

He that shall live this day, and see old age, 

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, 

And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.' 

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, 

And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.' 

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, 

But he'll remember, with advantages, 

What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, 

Familiar in his mouth as household words- 

Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, 

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester- 

Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red. 

This story shall the good man teach his son; 

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, 

From this day to the ending of the world, 

But we in it shall be remembered- 

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; 

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me 

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, 

This day shall gentle his condition; 

And gentlemen in England now-a-bed 

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, 

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks 

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Did you feel it? that tingle? I did, and thats probably the 20th time I read that today. Part of what I'm starting to see as I read many of these speeches is a certain pattern. Read the last eight lines... starting with "we few" again... read it like you were performing it. Go ahead, I'll wait. Stop reading this till you've done that.

filler spot

Now, that last line, how did that read in your head? Because what I hear is "That fought with us....upon...Saint..Crispin's..day."

In "Independence Day" Bill Pullman has a speech as the President, starting with "Good morning... In less than an hour aircraft from here will join others from around the world." I say with confidence you remember this speech if you saw that movie. It's the same thing again... the same call to arms, asking everyone there to be prepared to give it all. It wraps up with the line "We're going to live on, We're going to survive; Today, is our Independence day!"
Here we see that rhythm again, twice, actually. The full line, and then the "Today" bit right at the end.

It's not identical, but it does have a similar beat... as if it's morse code for "Get your weapons and go kick some ass"

Or how about something a bit more historical. There is a speech you might have heard of which starts with "Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal." It goes on, with natural syncopation thought the entire piece till getting to the last lines. that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." and it's there again. Can you hear it, feel it in there...

I don't know what it is... I need to talk to some people to work my way into it.... I need more coffee... I need a sandwich and someone clever, but I believe there's something here.

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