The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore, bart., M.P., formerly known as "Tommy Upmore"Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore, bart., M.P., formerly known as "Tommy Upmore"
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Great Britain -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Fiction; Satire
This was a very great orator, one of the greatest of all recent times;
because he possessed, what our ancestors had, but we for the most part
have lost,--the power of putting plain meaning into plain words. A very
great man as well, from the clearness, and solid consistence of his
mind; and even yet greater he might have been, if Nature had endowed him
with the power also of saying "I be wrong," sometimes. However, it was a
real treat to hear him, whatever one's opinion of his might be; because
there was no need to fish for his meaning, and be vexed with oneself,
for not catching it. Indeed, so immense was the force of his words, and
his aspect so large and commanding, that it took me a long time to set
up again my own weak convictions, against his strong ones. Luckily,
however, some little fellows followed, who, doing their utmost to deepen
his track, succeeded very nicely in obliterating it; like a lot of
children following a giant in the snow. Several members also of the
Opposition spoke, appealing to the buried bones of patriotic principle,
and reading long extracts from obsolete speeches, and solemn
declarations of the present premier; all of which were capable of being
explained away, whenever there was no denying them. And at half-past
two, the debate was adjourned, on the motion of Lord Grando Crushbill.
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE BATTLE, AND THE BREEZE.
All Europe had concluded long ago, that the Government of England had
left itself no other blunder to commit, and no further disgrace to fall
into. But all Europe was wrong in this conclusion; for before our debate
came on again, tidings of a new disaster, and one more foul scorn to
British blood, and heart, rang through the streets of London. Those
streets were, by this time, so well used to the sound of surrenders, and
massacres, seizures by Russia of this, and of that, and French
bombardment of Britons, that they took it as calmly as the passing of
the plague-cart in September, 1665. Men, full of business, shook their
heads at the newsboys, (who spoil their own traffic with chalk, as
England has done with her flourish of "free-trade") and the extra
editions of the evening papers went back to their offices, except a few
copies, sold to visitors wise enough to live far north. In short, the
public knew it all, without paying, and kept all their halfpence, to pay
for the result.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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