Chapter IV - Men and Brothers

Hard Times

by Charles Dickens

'Oh, my friends, the down-trodden operatives of Coketown! Oh, my
friends and fellow-countrymen, the slaves of an iron-handed and a
grinding despotism! Oh, my friends and fellow-sufferers, and
fellow-workmen, and fellow-men! I tell you that the hour is come,
when we must rally round one another as One united power, and crumble
into dust the oppressors that too long have battened upon the plunder
of our families, upon the sweat of our brows, upon the labour of our
hands, upon the strength of our sinews, upon the God- created
glorious rights of Humanity, and upon the holy and eternal privileges
of Brotherhood!'

'Good!' 'Hear, hear, hear!' 'Hurrah!' and other cries, arose
in many voices from various parts of the densely crowded and
suffocatingly close Hall, in which the orator, perched on a stage,
delivered himself of this and what other froth and fume he had in
him. He had declaimed himself into a violent heat, and was as hoarse
as he was hot. By dint of roaring at the top of his voice under a
flaring gaslight, clenching his fists, knitting his brows, setting
his teeth, and pounding with his arms, he had taken so much out of
himself by this time, that he was brought to a stop, and called for a
glass of water.

As he stood there, trying to quench his fiery face with his
drink of water, the comparison between the orator and the crowd of
attentive faces turned towards him, was extremely to his
disadvantage. Judging him by Nature's evidence, he was above the
mass in very little but the stage on which he stood. In many great
respects he was essentially below them. He was not so honest, he was
not so manly, he was not so good-humoured; he substituted cunning for
their simplicity, and passion for their safe solid sense. An
ill-made, high-shouldered man, with lowering brows, and his features
crushed into an habitually sour expression, he contrasted most
unfavourably, even in his mongrel dress, with the great body of his
hearers in their plain working clothes. Strange as it always is to
consider any assembly in the act of submissively resigning itself to
the dreariness of some complacent person, lord or commoner, whom
three-fourths of it could, by no human means, raise out of the slough
of inanity to their own intellectual level, it was particularly
strange, and it was even particularly affecting, to see this crowd of
earnest faces, whose honesty in the main no competent observer free
from bias could doubt, so agitated by such a leader.

Good! Hear, hear! Hurrah! The eagerness both of attention and
intention, exhibited in all the countenances, made them a most
impressive sight. There was no carelessness, no languor, no idle
curiosity; none of the many shades of indifference to be seen in all
other assemblies, visible for one moment there. That every man felt
his condition to be, somehow or other, worse than it might be; that
every man considered it incumbent on him to join the rest, towards
the making of it better; that every man felt his only hope to be in
his allying himself to the comrades by whom he was surrounded; and
that in this belief, right or wrong (unhappily wrong then), the whole
of that crowd were gravely, deeply, faithfully in earnest; must have
been as plain to any one who chose to see what was there, as the bare
beams of the roof and the whitened brick walls. Nor could any such
spectator fail to know in his own breast, that these men, through
their very delusions, showed great qualities, susceptible of being
turned to the happiest and best account; and that to pretend (on the
strength of sweeping axioms, howsoever cut and dried) that they went
astray wholly without cause, and of their own irrational wills, was
to pretend that there could be smoke without fire, death without
birth, harvest without seed, anything or everything produced from
nothing.

The orator having refreshed himself, wiped his corrugated
forehead from left to right several times with his handkerchief
folded into a pad, and concentrated all his revived forces, in a
sneer of great disdain and bitterness.

'But oh, my friends and brothers! Oh, men and Englishmen, the
down-trodden operatives of Coketown! What shall we say of that man -
that working-man, that I should find 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 working-man, 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 fixed on Stephen's face. To
repent of his determination, would be to take a load from all their
minds. He looked around him, and knew that it was so. Not a grain
of anger with them was in his heart; he knew them, far below their
surface weaknesses and misconceptions, as no one but their fellow-
labourer could.

'I ha thowt on 't, above a bit, sir. I simply canna coom in. I
mun go th' way as lays afore me. I mun tak my leave o' aw heer.'

He made a sort of reverence to them by holding up his arms, and
stood for the moment in that attitude; not speaking until they slowly
dropped at his sides.

'Monny's the pleasant word as soom heer has spok'n wi' me;
monny's the face I see heer, as I first seen when I were yoong and
lighter heart'n than now. I ha' never had no fratch afore, sin ever
I were born, wi' any o' my like; Gonnows I ha' none now that's o' my
makin'. Yo'll ca' me traitor and that - yo I mean t' say,'
addressing Slackbridge, 'but 'tis easier to ca' than mak' out. So
let be.'

He had moved away a pace or two to come down from the platform,
when he remembered something he had not said, and returned again.

'Haply,' he said, turning his furrowed face slowly about, that
he might as it were individually address the whole audience, those
both near and distant; 'haply, when this question has been tak'n up
and discoosed, there'll be a threat to turn out if I'm let to work
among yo. I hope I shall die ere ever such a time cooms, and I shall
work solitary among yo unless it cooms - truly, I mun do 't, my
friends; not to brave yo, but to live. I ha nobbut work to live by;
and wheerever can I go, I who ha worked sin I were no heighth at aw,
in Coketown heer? I mak' no complaints o' bein turned to the wa', o'
bein outcasten and overlooken fro this time forrard, but hope I shall
be let to work. If there is any right for me at aw, my friends, I
think 'tis that.'

Not a word was spoken. Not a sound was audible in the building,
but the slight rustle of men moving a little apart, all along the
centre of the room, to open a means of passing out, to the man with
whom they had all bound themselves to renounce companionship. Looking
at no one, and going his way with a lowly steadiness upon him that
asserted nothing and sought nothing, Old Stephen, with all his
troubles on his head, left the scene.

Then Slackbridge, who had kept his oratorical arm extended
during the going out, as if he were repressing with infinite
solicitude and by a wonderful moral power the vehement passions of
the multitude, applied himself to raising their spirits. Had not the
Roman Brutus, oh, my British countrymen, condemned his son to death;
and had not the Spartan mothers, oh my soon to be victorious friends,
driven their flying children on the points of their enemies' swords?
Then was it not the sacred duty of the men of Coketown, with
forefathers before them, an admiring world in company with them, and
a posterity to come after them, to hurl out traitors from the tents
they had pitched in a sacred and a God-like cause? The winds of
heaven answered Yes; and bore Yes, east, west, north, and south. And
consequently three cheers for the United Aggregate Tribunal!

Slackbridge acted as fugleman, and gave the time. The multitude
of doubtful faces (a little conscience-stricken) brightened at the
sound, and took it up. Private feeling must yield to the common
cause. Hurrah! The roof yet vibrated with the cheering, when the
assembly dispersed.

Thus easily did Stephen Blackpool fall into the loneliest of
lives, the life of solitude among a familiar crowd. The stranger in
the land who looks into ten thousand faces for some answering look
and never finds it, is in cheering society as compared with him who
passes ten averted faces daily, that were once the countenances of
friends. Such experience was to be Stephen's now, in every waking
moment of his life; at his work, on his way to it and from it, at his
door, at his window, everywhere. By general consent, they even
avoided that side of the street on which he habitually walked; and
left it, of all the working men, to him only.

He had been for many years, a quiet silent man, associating but
little with other men, and used to companionship with his own
thoughts. He had never known before the strength of the want in his
heart for the frequent recognition of a nod, a look, a word; or the
immense amount of relief that had been poured into it by drops
through such small means. It was even harder than he could have
believed possible, to separate in his own conscience his abandonment
by all his fellows from a baseless sense of shame and disgrace.

The first four days of his endurance were days so long and
heavy, that he began to be appalled by the prospect before him. Not
only did he see no Rachael all the time, but he avoided every chance
of seeing her; for, although he knew that the prohibition did not yet
formally extend to the women working in the factories, he found that
some of them with whom he was acquainted were changed to him, and he
feared to try others, and dreaded that Rachael might be even singled
out from the rest if she were seen in his company. So, he had been
quite alone during the four days, and had spoken to no one, when, as
he was leaving his work at night, a young man of a very light
complexion accosted him in the street.

'Your name's Blackpool, ain't it?' said the young man.

Stephen coloured to find himself with his hat in his hand, in
his gratitude for being spoken to, or in the suddenness of it, or
both. He made a feint of adjusting the lining, and said, 'Yes.'

'You are the Hand they have sent to Coventry, I mean?' said
Bitzer, the very light young man in question.

Stephen answered 'Yes,' again.

'I supposed so, from their all appearing to keep away from you.
Mr. Bounderby wants to speak to you. You know his house, don't
you?'

Stephen said 'Yes,' again.

'Then go straight up there, will you?' said Bitzer. 'You're
expected, and have only to tell the servant it's you. I belong to
the Bank; so, if you go straight up without me (I was sent to fetch
you), you'll save me a walk.'

Stephen, whose way had been in the contrary direction, turned
about, and betook himself as in duty bound, to the red brick castle
of the giant Bounderby.