It must not be supposed, because I wish to represent the interest of the
many, that I am hostile to the interest of the few.
But is it not perfectly certain that if the foundation of the most
magnificent building be destroyed and undermined, the whole fabric
itself is in danger? Is it not certain, also, that the vast body of the
people who form the foundation of the social fabric, if they are
suffering, if they are trampled upon, if they are degraded, if they are
discontented, if "their hands are against every man, and every man's
hands are against them," if they do not flourish as well, reasonably
speaking, as the classes who are above them because they are richer and
more powerful,--then are those classes as much in danger as the working
classes themselves?
There never was a revolution in any country which destroyed the great
body of the people. There have been convulsions of a most dire character
which have overturned old-established monarchies and have hurled thrones
and sceptres to the dust. There have been revolutions which have brought
down most powerful aristocracies, and swept them from the face of the
earth forever, but never was there a revolution yet which destroyed the
people. And whatever may come as a consequence of the state of things in
this country, of this we may rest assured: that the common people, that
the great bulk of our countrymen will remain and survive the shock,
though it may be that the Crown and the aristocracy and the Church may
be leveled with the dust, and rise no more. In seeking to represent the
working classes, and in standing up for their rights and liberties, I
hold that I am also defending the rights and liberties of the middle and
richer classes of society. Doing justice to one class cannot inflict
injustice on any other class, and "justice and impartiality to all" is
what we all have a right to from government. And we have a right to
clamor; and so long as I have breath, so long will I clamor against the
oppression which I see to exist, and in favor of the rights of the great
body of the people....
What is the condition in which we are? I have already spoken of Ireland.
You know that hundreds of thousands meet there, week after week, in
various parts of the country, to proclaim to all the world the tyranny
under which they suffer. You know that in South Wales, at this moment,
there is an insurrection of the most extraordinary character going on,
and that the Government is sending, day after day, soldiers and
artillery amongst the innocent inhabitants of that mountainous country
for the purpose of putting down the insurrection thereby raised and
carried on. You know that in the Staffordshire ironworks almost all the
workmen are now out and in want of wages, from want of employment and
from attempting to resist the inevitable reduction of wages which must
follow restriction upon trade. You know that in August last, Lancashire
and Yorkshire rose in peaceful insurrection to proclaim to the world,
and in face of Heaven, the wrongs of an insulted and oppressed people. I
know that my own neighborhood is unsettled and uncomfortable. I know
that in your own city your families are suffering. Yes, I have been to
your cottages and seen their condition. Thanks to my canvass of Durham,
I have been able to see the condition of many honest and independent--or
ought-to-be-independent--and industrious artisans. I have seen even
freemen of your city sitting, looking disconsolate and sad. Their hands
were ready to labor; their skill was ready to produce all that their
trade demanded. They were as honest and industrious as any man in this
assembly, but no man hired them. They were in a state of involuntary
idleness, and were driving fast to the point of pauperism. I have seen
their wives, too, with three or four children about them--one in the
cradle, one at the breast. I have seen their countenances, and I have
seen the signs of their sufferings. I have seen the emblems and symbols
of affliction such as I did not expect to see in this city. Ay! and I
have seen those little children who at not a distant day will be the men
and women of this city of Durham; I have seen their poor little wan
faces and anxious looks, as if the furrows of old age were coming upon
them before they had escaped from the age of childhood. I have seen all
this in this city, and I have seen far more in the neighborhood from
which I have come. You have seen, in all probability, people from my
neighborhood walking your streets and begging for that bread which the
Corn Laws would not allow them to earn.
"Bread-taxed weaver, all can see
What the tax hath done for thee,
And thy children, vilely led,
Singing hymns for shameful bread,
Till the stones of every street
Know their little naked feet."
This is what the Corn Law does for the weavers of my neighborhood, and
for the weavers and artisans of yours....