WINDHAM INVEIGHS AGAINST WARREN HASTINGS. Somewhat sarcastic, this—but
I had as little time as power for answering, since now, and suddenly, his eye dropped down upon poor Mr. Hastings; the expression of his face instantly lost the gaiety and ease with which it had addressed me; he stopped short in his remarks; he fixed his eyes steadfastly on this new, and but too interesting object, and after viewing him some time in a sort of earnest silence, he suddenly exclaimed as if speaking to himself, and from an impulse irresistible “What a sight is that! to see that man, that small portion of human clay, that poor feeble machine of earth, enclosed now in that little space, brought to that bar, a prisoner in a spot six foot square—and to reflect on his late power! Nations at his command! Princes prostrate at his feet!—What a change! how Must he feel it!—”
He stopped, and I said not a word. I was glad to see him thus impressed; I hoped it might soften his enmity. I found, by his manner, that he had never, from the committee box, looked at him. He broke forth again, after a pause of Some length,—“Wonderful indeed! almost past credibility, is such a reverse! He that, so lately, had the Eastern world nearly at his beck; he, under whose tyrant power princes and potentates sunk and trembled; he, whose authority was without the reach of responsibility!—”
Again he stopped, seeming struck, almost beyond the power of speech, with meditative commiseration; but then, suddenly rousing himself, as if recollecting his “almost blunted purpose,” he passionately exclaimed, “Oh could those—the thousands, the millions, who have groaned and languished under the iron rod of his oppressions—could they but—whatever region they inhabit—be permitted one dawn of light to look into this Hall, and see him there! There—where he now stands—It might prove, perhaps, some recompense for their sufferings!”
I can hardly tell you, my dearest Susan, how shocked I felt at these words! words so hard, and following sensations so much more pitying and philosophic! I cannot believe Mr. Hastings guilty; I feel in myself a strong internal evidence of his innocence, drawn from all I have seen of him; I can only regard the prosecution as a party affair; but yet, since his adversaries now openly stake their names, fame, and character against him, I did not think it decent to intrude such an opinion. I could only be sorry, and silent.
Still he looked at him, earnest in rumination, and as if unable to turn away his eyes; and presently he again exclaimed, “How wonderful an instance of the instability of mortal power is presented in that object! From possessions so extensive, from a despotism so uncontrolled. to see him, now there, in that small circumference! In the history Of human nature how memorable will be the records of this day! a day that brings to the great tribunal of the nation a man whose power, so short a time since, was of equal magnitude with his crimes!”
Good heaven! thought I, and do you really believe all this? Can Mr. Hastings appear to you such a monster? and are you not merely swayed by party? I could not hear him without shuddering, nor see him thus in earnest without alarm. I thought myself no longer bound to silence, since I saw, by the continuance as well as by the freedom of his exclamations, he conceived me of the same sentiments with himself; and therefore I hardily resolved to make known to him that mistake, which, indeed, was a liberty that seemed no longer impertinent, but a mere act of justice and honesty.
His very expressive pause, his eyes still steadfastly fixed on Mr. Hastings, gave me ample opportunity for speaking—though I had some little difficulty how to get out what I wished to say. However, in the midst of his reverie, I broke forth, but not without great hesitation, and, very humbly, I said, “Could you pardon me, Mr. Windham, If I should forget, for a moment, that you are a committee man, and speak to you frankly?”
He looked surprised, but laughed at the question, and very eagerly called out “Oh yes, yes, pray speak out, I beg it!”
“Well, then, may I venture to say to you that I believe it utterly impossible for any one, not particularly engaged on the contrary side, ever to enter a court of justice, and not instantly, and involuntarily, wish well to the prisoner!”
His surprise subsided by this general speech, which I had not courage to put in a more pointed way, and he very readily answered, “‘Tis natural, certainly, and what must almost unavoidably be the first impulse; yet, where justice—”
I stopped him; I saw I was not comprehended, and thought else he might say something to stop me.
“May I,” I said, “go yet a little farther?
“Yes,” cried he, with a very civil smile, “and I feel an assent beforehand.”
“Supposing then, that even you, if that may be supposed, could be divested of all knowledge of the particulars of this affair, and in the same state of general Ignorance that I confess myself to be, and could then, like me, have seen Mr. Hastings make his entrance into this court, and looked at him when he was brought to that bar; not even you, Mr. Windham, could then have reflected on such a vicissitude for him, on all he has left and all he has lost, and not have given him, like me, all your best wishes the moment you beheld him.”
The promised assent came not, though he was too civil to contradict me; but still I saw he Understood me only in a general sense. I feared going farther: a weak advocate is apt to be a mischievous one and, as I knew nothing, it was not to a professed enemy I could talk of what I only believed. Recovering, now, from the strong emotion with which the sight of Mr. Hastings had filled him, he looked again around the court, and pointed out several of the principal characters present, with arch and striking remarks upon each of them, all uttered with high spirit, but none with ill-nature.
“Pitt,” cried he, “is not here!—a noble stroke that for the annals of his administration! A trial is brought on by the whole House of Commons in a body, and he is absent at the very opening! However,” added he, with a very meaning laugh, “I’m glad of it, for ’tis to his eternal disgrace!”
Mercy! thought I, what a friend to kindness is party!
“Do you see Scott?” cried he.
“No, I never saw him; pray show him to me,”
“There he is, in green; just now by the Speaker, now moved by the committee; in two minutes more he will be somewhere else, skipping backwards and forwards; what a grasshopper it is!”
“I cannot look at him,” cried I, “without recollecting a very extraordinary letter from him, that I read last summer in the newspaper, where he answers some attack that he says has been made upon him, because the term is used of ‘a very insignificant fellow,’ and he printed two or three letters in ‘The Public Advertiser,’ in following days, to prove, with great care and pains, that he knew it was all meant as an abuse of himself, from those words!”
“And what,” cried he, laughing, “do you say to that notion now you see him?”
“That no one,” cried I, examining him with my glass, “can possibly dispute his claim!”
What pity that Mr. Hastings should have trusted his cause to so frivolous an agent! I believe, and indeed it is the general belief, both of foes and friends, that to his officious and injudicious zeal the present prosecution is wholly owing.
Next, Mr. Windham pointed out Mr. Francis to me. ‘TIS a singular circumstance, that the friend who most loves and the enemy Who most hates Mr. Hastings should bear the same name![264] Mr. Windham, with all the bias of party, gave me then the highest character of this Mr. Francis, whom he called one of the most ill-used of men. Want of documents how to answer forced me to be silent, oppositely as I thought. But it was a very unpleasant situation to me, as I saw that Mr. Windham still conceived me to have no other interest than a common, and probably to his mind, a weak compassion for the prisoner—that prisoner who, frequently looking around, saw me, I am certain, and saw with whom I was engaged.
The subject of Mr. Francis again drew him back to Mr. Hastings, but with more severity of mind. “A prouder heart,” cried he, “an ambition more profound, were never, I suppose, lodged in any mortal mould than in that man! With what a port he entered! did you observe him? his air! I saw not his face, but his air his port!”
“Surely there,” cried I, “he could not be to blame! He comes upon his defence; ought he to look as if he gave himself up?”
“Why no; ’tis true he must look what vindication to himself he can; we must not blame him there.”
Encouraged by this little concession, I resolved to venture farther, and once more said “May I again, Mr. Windham, forget that you are a committee-man, and say something not fit for a committee man to hear?”
“O yes!” cried he, laughing very much, and looking extremely curious.
“I must fairly, then, own myself utterly ignorant upon this subject, and—and—may I go on?”
“I beg you will!”
“Well, then,—and originally prepossessed in favour of the object!”
He quite started, and with a look of surprise from which all pleasure was separated, exclaimed—“Indeed!”
“Yes!” cried I, “’tis really true, and really out, now!”
“For Mr. Hastings, prepossessed!” he repeated, in a tone that seemed to say—do you not mean Mr. Burke? “Yes,” I said, “for Mr. Hastings! But I should not have presumed to own it just at this time,—so little as I am able to do honour to my prepossession by any materials to defend it,—but that you have given me courage, by appearing so free from all malignity in the business. Tis, therefore, Your own fault!”
“But can you speak seriously,” cried he, “when You say you know nothing of this business?”
“Very seriously: I never entered into it at all; it was always too intricate to tempt me.”
“But, surely you must have read the charges?”
“No; they are so long, I had never the courage to begin.”
The conscious look with which he heard this, brought—all too late—to my remembrance, that one of them was drawn up, and delivered in the House, by himself! I was really very sorry to have been so unfortunate; but I had no way to call back the words, so was quiet, perforce.
“Come then,” cried he, emphatically, “to hear Burke! come and listen to him, and you will be mistress of the whole. Hear Burke, and read the charges of the Begums, and then you will form your judgment without difficulty.”
I would rather (thought I) hear him upon any other subject: but I made no answer; I only said, “Certainly, I can gain nothing by what is going forward to-day. I meant to come to the opening now, but it seems rather like the shutting up!”
He was not to be put off. “You will come, however, to hear Burke? To hear truth, reason, justice, eloquence! You will then see, in other colours, ‘That man!’ There is more cruelty, more oppression, more tyranny, in that little machine, with an arrogance, a self-confidence, unexampled, unheard of!”