Hard Times by Charles Dickens (ebooks that read to you txt) 📕

it necessary so to libel the glorious name⁠—who, being practically and well acquainted with the grievances and wrongs of you, the injured pith and marrow of this land, and having heard you, with a noble and majestic unanimity that will make tyrants tremble, resolve for to subscribe to the funds of the United Aggregate Tribunal, and to abide by the injunctions issued by that body for your benefit, whatever they may be⁠—what, I ask you, will you say of that workingman, since such I must acknowledge him to be, who, at such a time, deserts his post, and sells his flag; who, at such a time, turns a traitor and a craven and a recreant, who, at such a time, is not ashamed to make to you the dastardly and humiliating avowal that he will hold himself aloof, and will not be one of those associated in the gallant stand for Freedom and for Right?”

The assembly was divided at this point. There were some groans and hisses, but the general sense of honour was much too strong for the condemnation of a man unheard. “Be sure you’re right, Slackbridge!” “Put him up!” “Let’s hear him!” Such things were said on many sides. Finally, one strong voice called out, “Is the man heer? If the man’s heer, Slackbridge, let’s hear the man himseln, ’stead o’ yo.” Which was received with a round of applause.

Slackbridge, the orator, looked about him with a withering smile; and, holding out his right hand at arm’s length (as the manner of all Slackbridges is), to still the thundering sea, waited until there was a profound silence.

“Oh, my friends and fellow-men!” said Slackbridge then, shaking his head with violent scorn, “I do not wonder that you, the prostrate sons of labour, are incredulous of the existence of such a man. But he who sold his birthright for a mess of pottage existed, and Judas Iscariot existed, and Castlereagh existed, and this man exists!”

Here, a brief press and confusion near the stage, ended in the man himself standing at the orator’s side before the concourse. He was pale and a little moved in the face⁠—his lips especially showed it; but he stood quiet, with his left hand at his chin, waiting to be heard. There was a chairman to regulate the proceedings, and this functionary now took the case into his own hands.

“My friends,” said he, “by virtue o’ my office as your president, I askes o’ our friend Slackbridge, who may be a little over hetter in this business, to take his seat, whiles this man Stephen Blackpool is heern. You all know this man Stephen Blackpool. You know him awlung o’ his misfort’ns, and his good name.”

With that, the chairman shook him frankly by the hand, and sat down again. Slackbridge likewise sat down, wiping his hot forehead⁠—always from left to right, and never the reverse way.

“My friends,” Stephen began, in the midst of a dead calm; “I ha’ hed what’s been spok’n o’ me, and ’tis lickly that I shan’t mend it. But I’d liefer you’d hearn the truth concernin myseln, fro my lips than fro onny other man’s, though I never cud’n speak afore so monny, wi’out bein moydert and muddled.”

Slackbridge shook his head as if he would shake it off, in his bitterness.

“I’m th’ one single hand in Bounderby’s mill, o’ a’ the men theer, as don’t coom in wi’ th’ proposed reg’lations. I canna coom in wi’ ’em. My friends, I doubt their doin’ yo onny good. Licker they’ll do yo hurt.”

Slackbridge laughed, folded his arms, and frowned sarcastically.

“But ’t an’t sommuch for that as I stands out. If that were aw, I’d coom in wi’ th’ rest. But I ha’ my reasons⁠—mine, yo see⁠—for being hindered; not on’y now, but awlus⁠—awlus⁠—life long!”

Slackbridge jumped up and stood beside him, gnashing and tearing. “Oh, my friends, what but this did I tell you? Oh, my fellow-countrymen, what warning but this did I give you? And how shows this recreant conduct in a man on whom unequal laws are known to have fallen heavy? Oh, you Englishmen, I ask you how does this subornation show in one of yourselves, who is thus consenting to his own undoing and to yours, and to your children’s and your children’s children’s?”

There was some applause, and some crying of Shame upon the man; but the greater part of the audience were quiet. They looked at Stephen’s worn face, rendered more pathetic by the homely emotions it evinced; and, in the kindness of their nature, they were more sorry than indignant.

“ ’Tis this Delegate’s trade for t’ speak,” said Stephen, “an’ he’s paid for ’t, an’ he knows his work. Let him keep to ’t. Let him give no heed to what I ha had’n to bear. That’s not for him. That’s not for nobbody but me.”

There was a propriety, not to say a dignity in these words, that made the hearers yet more quiet and attentive. The same strong voice called out, “Slackbridge, let the man be heern, and howd thee tongue!” Then the place was wonderfully still.

“My brothers,” said Stephen, whose low voice was distinctly heard, “and my fellow-workmen⁠—for that yo are to me, though not, as I knows on, to this delegate here⁠—I ha but a word to sen, and I could sen nommore if I was to speak till strike o’ day. I know weel, aw what’s afore me. I know weel that yo aw resolve to ha nommore ado wi’ a man who is not wi’ yo in this matther. I know weel that if I was a lyin parisht i’ th’ road, yo’d feel it right to pass me by, as a forrenner and stranger. What I ha getn, I mun mak th’ best on.”

“Stephen Blackpool,” said the chairman, rising, “think on ’t agen. Think on ’t once agen, lad, afore thou’rt shunned by aw owd friends.”

There was an universal murmur to the same effect, though no man articulated a word. Every eye was