“But then,” cried he, “on the other hand, there is nothing so pleasant as clearing away a disagreeable prejudice; nothing SO exhilarating as the dispersion of a black mist, and seeing all that had been black and gloomy turn out bright and fair.”
“That, Sir,” cried I, “is precisely what I expect from thence,” pointing to the prisoner.
What a look he gave me, yet he laughed irresistibly.
“However,” I continued, “I have been putting my expectations from your speech to a kind of test.”
“And how, for heaven’s sake?”
“Why, I have been reading—running over, rather—a set of speeches, in which almost the whole House made a part, upon the India bill; and in looking over those I saw not one that had not in it something positively and pointedly personal, except Mr. Windham’s.”
“O, that was a mere accident.”
“But it was just the accident I expected from Mr. Windham. I do not mean that there was invective in all the others, for in some there was panegyric—plenty! but that panegyric was always so directed as to convey more of severe censure to one party than of real praise to the other. Yours was all to the business, and hence I infer you will deal just so by Mr. Hastings.”
“I believe,” cried he, looking at me very sharp, “you only want to praise me down. You know what it is to skate a man down?”
“No, indeed.”