When annoyed little fine wrinkles would corrugate his forehead. Otherwise the whole of his personality was absolutely under control. His voice, though slurring, was penetrating, and ate its way into your attention by reason of its peculiarly blurred timbre. It was marked by an even consistency. His speeches were always animated and winning, but the speed at which he travelled never changed much, nor did he go to extremes of inflection. Sometimes he would be quietly humorous. Where he shone was in repartee, for he was always mentally alert and keen.
Whether he spoke in English or in French, it was the same Laurier, the orator of the “grand style.” And like all speakers of this type, Sir Wilfrid was a past master in the coining of apt phrases that stick in the popular imagination. For example, he once called Ottawa the “Washington of the North.” Ever since then the label has stuck. And so, in a hundred other cases, Sir Wilfrid has given journalists and those that come after him the necessary turn of thought, the needful word. His “grand method” was simply the outcome of his own nature—a nature at once distinguished and noble. And consequently not even his bitterest enemies ever charged him with doing a “mean” or “shabby” thing. As soon as you set eyes on him in the House you recognized that there was a man above buying or selling, a man with a code of honour, a man with a dignity. So his “grand” manner was but the visible and outward sign of this.
But this “grand” manner had nothing ponderous, heavy or deliberate about it. Laurier was French in his vivacity and finesse, in the quickness and brilliance of his repartee. He was the master of the quick, swift way in which he slipped off into the heart of his speeches. A handful of compliments or a short, sharp, stinging sarcasm; a gentle musical phrase, to jog someone’s memory, or a word of aroused dignity, and Sir Wilfrid was easily racing along at full speed. And in his speech he had Gallic lucidity. Everything served to strengthen his argument. He not only appealed to his auditors’ reason, but also to their emotions—and that was the secret of his popularity. He had the gift of being able to charm, move and stir. And it all perhaps was achieved more by his personality than by what was actually said. His mere appearance could raise enthusiasm.