The struggling youth who found the world too much for him in his first start in life would take heart of hope and whisper to himself—‘I will go to Sir John, he will tell me what to do, and how I am to gain my goal: he sends no one away, he gives comfort and information; and if need be, funds to the honest worker who seeks his aid.’
Thus like the god of day, this dear old man imparted life and joy, and blessings wherever his influence reached, and the people in return reverenced and loved him greatly.
In the Eastern St. Stephen’s he held the position of Prime Minister, and as a matter of course, upon him devolved the duty of stating the case of the Indian Empire before the World’s Tribunal.
He spoke in English of the purest diction, and pronunciation as perfect as that of a polished Englishman; his great experience as a politician, his gift of eloquence and his profound wisdom, all combined to make him a unique interpreter of the feeling of India at this vitally important crisis.
The delegates listened in wrapt attention to every argument brought forward, giving assiduous attention to their duties throughout, and making notes of every point of any importance, on either side, all being done without the smallest loss of time. The result of such industry was that in fourteen days the whole of the evidence was gone through, after which the members of the Tribunal made their speeches, expressing their opinions upon the various points of the case in a clear and succinct manner.
This refraining from flowery oratory proved a capital saver of time, and brought the matter to a close much earlier than if all had disported themselves in high-flown rhetoric, or windy word-making.
By this time the expression of language had attained such perfection; or rather, the gift of eloquence had become so general that almost everybody was able to express himself in well-chosen language with little or no preparation.
The result of this tongue-culture was a disfavour towards unnecessarily drawn out speeches. Indeed, the rule adopted mostly by legislative and other assemblies was timed speeches, generally from thirty to sixty minutes’ duration; but very rarely was this latter period taken except in cases of extraordinary importance.
It would astonish a nineteenth-century parliamentarian if he could have heard a thirty minutes’ speech at this time. Every sentence uttered expressed a thought; not a superfluous word was used throughout; yet every idea was enunciated fully and perfectly, for it was concentrated thought projected in concentrated language.
For several previous generations this power of précis had been put in general practice. Both parents and teachers making it a point to impress upon children the vulgarity of verbosity; both in writing and speaking an artistic method was inculcated that expressed every shade of thought in the least possible number of words.