Sir Edward Carson’s public speaking has always been entirely free from rhetorical artifice.  He seldom made use of metaphor or imagery, or elaborate periods, or variety of gesture.  His language was extremely simple and straightforward; but his mobile expression—­so variable that his enemies saw in it a suggestion of Mephistopheles, and his friends a resemblance to Dante—­his measured diction, and his skilful use of a deep-toned voice, gave a remarkable impressiveness to all he said—­even, indeed, to utterances which, if spoken by another, would sometimes have sounded commonplace or obvious.  Sarcasm he could use with effect, and a telling point was often made by an epigrammatic phrase which delighted his hearers.  And, more than all else, his meaning was never in doubt.  In lucidity of statement he excelled many much greater orators, and was surpassed by none; and these qualities, added to his unmistakable sincerity and candour, made him one of the most persuasive of speakers on the platform, as he was also, of course, in the Law Courts.

The moment he began to speak at Craigavon the immense multitude who had come to welcome him felt instinctively the grip of his power.  The contrast to all the previous scene—­the cheering, the enthusiasm, the marching, the singing, the waving of handkerchiefs and flags—­was deeply impressive, when, after a hushed pause of some length, he called attention without preface to the realities of the situation in a few simple sentences of slow and almost solemn utterance: 

“I know full well what the Resolution you have just passed means; I know what all these Addresses mean; I know the responsibility you are putting upon me to-day.  In your presence I cheerfully accept it, grave as it is, and I now enter into a compact with you, and every one of you, and with the help of God you and I joined together—­giving you the best I can, and you giving me all your strength behind me—­we will yet defeat the most nefarious conspiracy that has ever been hatched against a free people.  But I know full well that this Resolution has a still wider meaning.  It shows me that you realise the gravity of the situation that is before us, and it shows me that you are here to express your determination to see this fight out to a finish.”

He went on to expose the hollowness of the allegation, then current in Liberal circles, that Ulster’s repugnance to Home Rule was less uncompromising than it formerly had been.  On the contrary, he believed that “there never was a moment at which men were more resolved than at the present, with all the force and strength that God has given them, to maintain the British connection and their rights as citizens of the United Kingdom.”  Apart from principle or sentiment, that was an attitude, he maintained, dictated by practical good sense.  He showed how Ireland had been “advancing in prosperity in an unparalleled measure,” for which he could quote the authority of Mr. Redmond himself, although the Nationalist leader had omitted to notice that this advance had taken place under the legislative Union, and, as Carson contended, in consequence of it.  He laid special emphasis on the point, never forgotten, that the danger in which they stood was due to the hoodwinking of the British constituencies by Mr. Asquith’s Ministry.