This was going pretty far:—he could not but instantly feel I meant the Regency discussions. He neither made me any answer, nor turned his head, even obliquely, my way.
I was not sorry, however. ‘Tis always best to be sincere. Finding him quite silent, to soften matters as well as I could with honesty, I began an éloge of Mr. Burke, both warm and true, as far as regards his wonderful abilities. But he soon distinguished the rigorous precision with which, Involuntarily, I praised the powers without adverting to their Use.
Suddenly then, and with a look of extreme keenness, he turned his eyes upon me, and exclaimed, “Yes,—and he has very highly, also the faculty of being right!” I would the friendship that dictated this assertion were as unwarped as it is animated.
I could not help saying rather faintly, “Has he?”
Not faintly he answered, “He has!—but not the world alone, even his friends, are apt to misjudge him. What he enters upon, however with earnestness, YOU will commonly find turn out as he represents it.”
His genius, his mental faculties, and the natural goodness of his heart, I then praised as warmly as Mr. Windham could have praised them himself; but the subject ran me aground a second time, as, quite undesignedly, I concluded my panegyric with declaring that I found it impossible not to admire,—nay, love him, through all his wrong. Ending another total silence and averted head, I started something more general upon the trial.
His openness then returned, with all its customary vivacity, and he expressed himself extremely irritated upon various matters which had been carried against the managers by the judges.
“But, Mr. Windham!” exclaimed I, “the judges!—is it possible you can enter into such a notion as to suppose Mr. Hastings capable of bribing them?”
“O, for capable,” cried he, “I don’t know—”
“Well, leave that word out, and suppose him even willing—can you imagine all the judges and all the lords—for they must concur— disposed to be bribed?”