“I understand,” quoth I, “there is a great dearth of abilities in this new Assembly; how then should there be any variety?”
“No, I cannot say that: they do not want abilities; but they have no opportunity to make their way.”
“O!” quoth I, shaking my wise head, “abilities, real abilities, make their own way.”
“Why, that’s true; but, in that Assembly, the noise, the tumult—”
“Abilities,” again quoth I, “have power to quell noise and tumult.”
“Certainly, in general; but not in France. These new legislative members are so solicitous to speak, so anxious to be heard, that they prefer uttering any tautology to listening to others; and when once they have begun, they go on with what speed they may, and without selection, rather than stop. They see so many ready to seize their first pause, they know they have so little chance of a second hearing, that I never entered the Assembly without being reminded of the famous old story of the man who patiently bore hearing a tedious harangue, by saying the whole time to himself, ‘Well, well, ’tis his turn now; but let him beware how he sneezes.”’
“A BARBAROUS BUSINESS!”
James now again asked some question of their intentions with regard to the progress of the trial. He answered, “We have nothing to do with its present state. We leave Mr. Hastings now to himself, and his own set. Let him keep to his cause, and he may say what he will. We do not mean to interfere, nor avail ourselves of our privileges.”
Mr. Hastings was just entered; I looked down at him, and saw his half-motion to kneel; I could not bear it, and, turning suddenly to my neighbour, “O, Mr. Windham,” I cried, “after all, ’tis, indeed, a barbarous business!” This was rather further than I meant to go, for I said it with serious earnestness; but it was surprised from me by the emotion always excited at sight of that unmerited humiliation.
He looked full at me upon this solemn attack, and with a look of chagrin amounting to displeasure, saying, “It is a barbarous business we have had to go through.”