extreme. But they are the very people who some generations ago said women had no souls. Now they say it of animals.
‘All reformers are condemned as extreme at first. Afterwards, they are praised. But for people like us, little children would still be sweeping chimneys and going down mines. Women would still be denied the vote. Men would still be hanged for stealing a loaf of bread. And those lords of the manor who now try to defend hunting would still be exercising their right to ravage the daughters of their tenants.’
Dolamore’s speech was frequently interrupted by cheers, though his fan club, it seemed to Amiss, was mainly at the back of the hall. He couldn’t imagine the woolly hats would be entirely supportive of the notion that species egalitarianism put them on a par with mice. Yet he acknowledged Dolamore’s astonishing oratorical gift. His apparent sincerity was so overwhelming it was hard not to ignore the content and simply be carried along by the style.
From the premise of the equality of all species, Dolamore took his audience logically through history from barbarism to enlightenment, bringing in and extending to animals insights from an eclectic range from Thomas Paine to Buddha. Movingly, he described the advance from darkness into light. His voice soared and swooped and sometimes fell to a near murmur, but it was clear, often thrilling and always compelling.
Having taken the audience through landmarks like the abolition of bear-baiting and cock-fighting he produced his charter of demands for the future. The whole audience was caught up in the excitement. Even the baroness was rapt in concentration. The sporadic applause increased in frequency and loudness and now came from all round the room. But such was Dolamore’s quality as an orator that he could instantly, with no more than a gesture of a finger, restore absolute silence.
When his peroration about the Brotherhood of the Species ended with the exhortation, ‘to take this crusade into every home in Britain so as to make it a shining example to the world,’ Dolamore sat down abruptly, sweat glinting on his face and staining his vest. His eyes continued to bore into the audience, which rose as one activist and cheered and clapped like crazed pop fans. Even Amiss was sufficiently carried away to stand up, but emboldened once again by his companion’s rugged independence in staying in her seat without clapping, he sat down again.
‘He hasn’t converted you?’
‘I never was cut out for Nuremberg rallies,’ she said acidly. ‘For a moment there I had my doubts about you.’
After about three minutes, Dolamore rose to his feet and made a silencing gesture to the audience, hands up and palms out as if to push them back into their seats. They obliged instantly.
The chairman stood up, seeming a little dazed.
‘Thank you, Jerry. My goodness, what an experience this has been for all of us. What an extraordinary trio of champions we have here. Our fine legal mind…’ He bowed at Parsons. ‘Our humble, loving Brother, so attuned to his animal friends.’ He bowed at Brother Francis. ‘And now our great inspiration, our champion, advancing before us all with the banner of justice and equality. Truly he is the veritable Lord Wilberforce of our time.’
The slightly baffled look on Dolamore’s face gave Amiss the impression that the name of that doughty opponent of slavery had not been big in Australia. The chairman looked at his watch.
‘Good Lord. How time flies. It’s a quarter to ten and we really must be out of here by ten o’clock.’
As bathetic moments went, thought Amiss, this rather resembled a caretaker explaining to the SS that he’d be locking up in a minute so would they please make ready to march out of the stadium. ‘So only a few questions. Yes?’
A woolly hat rose.
‘Please,’ she squeaked. ‘I want to know what we are to do?’
The chairman looked enquiringly at Lady Parsons.
‘Write in support of this
‘All reformers are condemned as extreme at first. Afterwards, they are praised. But for people like us, little children would still be sweeping chimneys and going down mines. Women would still be denied the vote. Men would still be hanged for stealing a loaf of bread. And those lords of the manor who now try to defend hunting would still be exercising their right to ravage the daughters of their tenants.’
Dolamore’s speech was frequently interrupted by cheers, though his fan club, it seemed to Amiss, was mainly at the back of the hall. He couldn’t imagine the woolly hats would be entirely supportive of the notion that species egalitarianism put them on a par with mice. Yet he acknowledged Dolamore’s astonishing oratorical gift. His apparent sincerity was so overwhelming it was hard not to ignore the content and simply be carried along by the style.
From the premise of the equality of all species, Dolamore took his audience logically through history from barbarism to enlightenment, bringing in and extending to animals insights from an eclectic range from Thomas Paine to Buddha. Movingly, he described the advance from darkness into light. His voice soared and swooped and sometimes fell to a near murmur, but it was clear, often thrilling and always compelling.
Having taken the audience through landmarks like the abolition of bear-baiting and cock-fighting he produced his charter of demands for the future. The whole audience was caught up in the excitement. Even the baroness was rapt in concentration. The sporadic applause increased in frequency and loudness and now came from all round the room. But such was Dolamore’s quality as an orator that he could instantly, with no more than a gesture of a finger, restore absolute silence.
When his peroration about the Brotherhood of the Species ended with the exhortation, ‘to take this crusade into every home in Britain so as to make it a shining example to the world,’ Dolamore sat down abruptly, sweat glinting on his face and staining his vest. His eyes continued to bore into the audience, which rose as one activist and cheered and clapped like crazed pop fans. Even Amiss was sufficiently carried away to stand up, but emboldened once again by his companion’s rugged independence in staying in her seat without clapping, he sat down again.
‘He hasn’t converted you?’
‘I never was cut out for Nuremberg rallies,’ she said acidly. ‘For a moment there I had my doubts about you.’
After about three minutes, Dolamore rose to his feet and made a silencing gesture to the audience, hands up and palms out as if to push them back into their seats. They obliged instantly.
The chairman stood up, seeming a little dazed.
‘Thank you, Jerry. My goodness, what an experience this has been for all of us. What an extraordinary trio of champions we have here. Our fine legal mind…’ He bowed at Parsons. ‘Our humble, loving Brother, so attuned to his animal friends.’ He bowed at Brother Francis. ‘And now our great inspiration, our champion, advancing before us all with the banner of justice and equality. Truly he is the veritable Lord Wilberforce of our time.’
The slightly baffled look on Dolamore’s face gave Amiss the impression that the name of that doughty opponent of slavery had not been big in Australia. The chairman looked at his watch.
‘Good Lord. How time flies. It’s a quarter to ten and we really must be out of here by ten o’clock.’
As bathetic moments went, thought Amiss, this rather resembled a caretaker explaining to the SS that he’d be locking up in a minute so would they please make ready to march out of the stadium. ‘So only a few questions. Yes?’
A woolly hat rose.
‘Please,’ she squeaked. ‘I want to know what we are to do?’
The chairman looked enquiringly at Lady Parsons.
‘Write in support of this
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