“This day—for which we have all been waiting so anxiously, so earnestly—the day for which we have fought, for which we have struggled—a day, indeed, of national glory, in bringing to this great tribunal a delinquent from so high an office—this day, so much wished, has seemed to me, to the last moment, so distant, that now—now that it Is actually arrived, it takes me as if I had never thought of it before—it comes upon me all unexpected, and finds me unready!”
Still I said nothing, for I did not fully comprehend him, till he added, “I will not be so affected as to say to you that I have made no preparation—that I have not thought a little upon what I have to do; yet now that the moment is actually come—”
Again he broke off, but a generous sentiment was bursting from him, and would not be withheld.
“It has brought me,” he resumed, “a feeling of which I am not yet quite the master! What I have said hitherto, when I have spoken in the house, has been urged and stimulated by the idea of pleading for the injured and the absent, and that gave me spirit. Nor do I tell you (with a half-conscious smile) that the ardour of the prosecution went for nothing—a prosecution in favour of oppressed millions! But now, when I am to speak here, the thought of that man, close to my side—culprit as he is—that man on whom all the odium is to fall—gives me, I own, a sensation that almost disqualifies me beforehand!”...
“That this day was ever brought about,” continued he, “must ever remain a noble memorial of courage and perseverance in the Commons. Every possible obstacle has been thrown in our way—every art of government has been at work to impede us—nothing has been left untried to obstruct us—every check and clog of power and influence.”
“Not by him,” cried I, looking at poor Mr. Hastings; “he has raised no impediments—he has been wholly careless." “Come,” cried he, with energy, “come and hear Burke!—Come but and hear him!—’tis an eloquence irresistible!—a torrent that sweeps all before it with the force of a whirlwind! It will Cure You, indeed, of your prepossession, but it will give you truth and right in its place. What discoveries has he not made!—what gulfs has he not dived into! Come and hear him, and your conflict will end!” I could hardly stand this, and, to turn it off’, asked him if Mr. Hastings was to make his own defence?
“No,” he answered, “he will only speak by counsel. But do not regret that, for his own sake, as he is not used to public speaking, and has some impediment in his speech besides. He writes wonderfully—there he shines—and with a facility quite astonishing. Have you ever happened to see any of his writings?”
“No: only one short account, which he calls ‘Memoirs relative to some India transactions,’ and that struck me to be extremely unequal—in some places strong and finely expressed, In others obscure and scarce intelligible.”
“That is just the case—that ambiguity runs through him in everything. Burke has found an admirable word for it in the Persian tongue, for which we have no translation, but it means an intricacy involved so deep as to be nearly unfathomable—an artificial entanglement.”
I inquired how it was all to end—whether this reading was to continue incessantly, or any speaking was to follow it?