He's sitting down.

Yes! No! Yes! It's Caterham! "Caterham!" "Caterham!" And then came the cheers.
It takes a multitude to make such a stillness as followed that disorder of cheering.

A man alone in a wilderness;--it's stillness of a sort no doubt, but he hears himself breathe, he hears himself move, he hears all sorts of things.

Here the voice of Caterham was the one single thing heard, a thing very bright and clear, like a little light burning in a black velvet recess.

Hear indeed! One heard him as though he spoke at one's elbow.
It was stupendously effective to the man from prison, that gesticulating little figure in a halo of light, in a halo of rich and swaying sounds; behind it, partially effaced as it were, sat its supporters on the platform, and in the foreground was a wide perspective of innumerable backs and profiles, a vast multitudinous attention.