After many more speeches, some right and some wrong, and—which seemed to be first thought of—some good, and some bad; the Prime-Minister rose, to wind up the debate, at about ten minutes past midnight. The House was as silent as a hive of smoked bees, with just one fellow, here and there, not quite dead. I prepared myself for the finest treat of ears, and mind, and perhaps of heart also—though he seldom troubles that—and I said to myself, "No prejudice, if you please!"
However, it was useless to say that. When a man, coming out of his front door, sees another man hacking down his pet tree, is the sense of high art supreme with him? Does he stop to admire the attitude, the muscles, the skilful swing, the bright implement? Nay, rather, in a fine rage, out he rushes, and shouts, "What do you mean by this, sir?"
But making allowance for all my "paltry wrath"—as his sycophants call it—I found it impossible to catch the great man's meaning, as it should be caught. That is to say, well over the heart, thrown straight at it, as a good fielder throws up, and not over one's head, or between one's legs, or twisting in and out, like a left-handed bowler's ball. But for all that, I felt that his voice was grand, and his power enormous; if he would have used it simply, and after the manner of his favourite author. The fault perhaps lies in the multiplicity of his mind, which does not consider the simplicity of ours.
Perhaps, he never had a worse cause to plead; and in the bottom of his heart—which is sound, I do believe—he must have known that, far better than our shallow natures knew it. When at last; he broke out of the dense haze of argument into the pure sky of eloquence, almost he persuaded me not be an Englishman, but for the thought that he himself was one.
"All up now, Tommy!" Sir Roland said to me, as the last tones of that silvery voice, like music for the dead, hung hovering; "after that, it is all up with England."
But I answered—"Hold my belt, a minute. I will try it, whatever comes of it."
For the last two hours, and indeed for the whole of the evening, I had felt throughout my system, that it was in a very extraordinary state. Thumping of the heart, and great expansion of the chest, tingling of arms and legs, and great inhalings of hot light air, had confused me; and whenever a draught from the ventilators (which are like a blow of steam) came under me, I seemed to feel my dress (which I had chosen for its lightness), fill, like the feathers of a bird at rising. Sometimes indignation, sometimes pleasure, sometimes lofty ambition to be useful to my Country, and to Laura's, had been hoisting at me, like a balanced lever. "Don't be afraid," I said, "I can't stop down, any longer. But try to get me a hearing."
To the sudden astonishment of the crowded House, (which could scarcely believe its own eyes at first) I, Tommy Upmore, went up gently, and steadily, as a ring of blue smoke rises, from a cigar, where no draught is. Honourable Members were leaving their seats, for the critical Division, which should split up England; but with one accord, they all turned round and stared. Remembering what Professor Brachipod had told me, I used my hands and feet so well, with my curls spread out to catch the air, that I steered my course, as accurately as I ever steered a boat to bump another. Beneath me, there seemed to be breathless amazement; but I found myself perfectly calm, and smiled.
Avoiding all peril of fire, I hovered, with buoyant delight in every fibre, and a tingle of disdain at the terror of the House—for the greatest men looked quite small down there—till I came to a large beam of the roof; heart of British oak it was; and against it I brought up, with a perfectly erect, and perhaps dignified presentment.
In this position, I caught the Speaker's eye, and removing my hat, which I placed upon the beam, made my bow to him, and sought permission to address the House. The debate being closed, and the division-bell ringing, I could hardly expect to be allowed to speak. But the case was exceptional; and more than that, everybody longed to hear what I had got to say. The Right Honourable, the Speaker, raised his wig, to be certain that his head was right, under it; and with no further symptom of surprise—for he had seen a great many stranger sights than this—said slowly,