You come to us and tell us that the great cities are in favor of the gold standard; we reply that the great cities rest upon our broad and fertile prairies. Burn down your cities and leave our farms, and your cities will spring up again as if by magic; but destroy our farms and the grass will grow in the streets of every city in the country.
My friends, we declare that this nation is able to legislate for its own people on every question, without waiting for the aid and consent of any other nation on earth; and upon that issue we expect to carry every state in the Union. I shall not slander the inhabitants of the fair state of Massachusetts, nor the inhabitants of the state of New York, by saying that, when they are confronted with the proposition they will declare that this nation is not able to attend to its own business. It is the issue of 1776 over again. Our ancestors, when but three millions in number, had the courage to declare their political independence of every other nation; shall we, their descendants, when we have grown to seventy millions, declare that we are less independent than our forefathers?
No, my friends, that will never be the verdict of our people. Therefore, we care not upon what lines the battle is fought. If they say bimetallism is good, but that we cannot have it until other nations help us, we reply that, instead of having a gold standard because England has, we will restore bimetallism, and then let England have bimetallism because the United States has it. If they dare to come out in the open field and defend the gold standard as a good thing, we will fight them to the uttermost. Having behind us the producing masses of this nation and the world, supported by the commercial interests, the laboring interests and the toilers everywhere, we will answer their demand for a gold standard by saying to them: You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns, you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold.
JOHN HAYNES HOLMES
The Birth of an Orator[18] (1912)
On the 9th day of December, 1837, there was held in Faneuil Hall, in the city of Boston, a great public meeting in protest against the recent murder, in Alton, Illinois, of the Rev. Elijah P. Lovejoy. The historic old edifice was filled upon this momentous occasion to suffocation, as feeling was running very high upon both sides of the slavery question; and the audience was about equally divided between the friends and enemies of the cause. The meeting was opened with a brief and impressive address by Dr. Channing. Resolutions denouncing the murder of Lovejoy were then read and formally seconded. Everything seemed to be moving smoothly, when a man was seen making his way through the excited crowd to the great gilded eagle in the front of the gallery. He was instantly recognized as James T. Austin, a parishioner of Dr. Channing, a popular politician, and at that time the Attorney-General of the Commonwealth. Gaining his position, he began a harangue, calculated to fire the crowd and break up the meeting. He compared the slaves of the South to a menagerie, and likened Lovejoy to one who should “break the bars and let loose the caravan to prowl about the streets.” He talked of the rioters of Alton as akin to the “orderly mob” which threw the tea into Boston Harbor in 1773; and, in direct allusion to his minister, Dr. Channing, he closed by asserting that a clergyman with a gun in his hand, or one “mingling in the debates of a popular assembly, was marvellously out of place.”
No sooner were these words spoken than the chairman lost all control of the meeting. The Attorney-General had captured his audience, and friends and foes seemed to vie with one another in calling for the resolutions that they might vote them down, and then turn the protest of the occasion into an endorsement. At this wild moment, when all hope of saving the meeting seemed to be lost, a young man with pale face and close-pressed lips, was seen pushing his way to the platform through the frenzied mob. A few persons recognized Wendell Phillips, a son of one of the richest and most conservative families of Boston, a graduate of Harvard College and Harvard Law School, and now just entered upon the practice of his profession. Leaping upon the stage, this unknown stripling faced the crowd, as tall and fair and beautiful as an Apollo, and, raising his hand, spoke two or three words in those marvellous silvery tones which were destined ultimately to chant their music in so many halls and before so many popular assemblies. Instantly the wild “tumult and shouting” was hushed, while men leaned forward curiously to hear what this foolish youth could find to say in answer to the Attorney-General. “Mr. Chairman,” he began, “we are here met for the freest discussion of these resolutions, and the events which gave rise to them. I hope I shall be permitted to express my surprise as to the sentiments of the last speaker—surprise not only at such sentiments from such a man, but at the applause which they received within these walls. . . . Sir, when I heard the gentleman lay down principles which place the murders of Lovejoy side by side with Otis and Hancock, Quincy and Adams, I thought [pointing to the portraits of the revolutionary heroes in the hall] those pictured lips would have broken into voice to rebuke this recreant American—this slanderer of the dead.” Instantly, with this utterance of magic eloquence, the tide of popular feeling was turned. Sentence after sentence fell from the speaker’s lips like thunderbolts from the land of Jove, until at last his words were swept away in the wild tumult of applause; and with a mighty shout the resolutions were put and carried. Thus was the day unexpectedly saved, and from that moment on Faneuil Hall was identified with the name of Wendell Phillips as it had previously been identified with the names of James Otis and Samuel Adams, and was dedicated to the cause of anti-slavery, as it had hitherto been dedicated to the cause of political independence.
Peace Between Labor and Capital[19] (1912)
First of all, let me tell you that nothing will be gained by crushing unions and destroying organizations of labor. The time has passed by forever for that course of procedure. Labor is learning its power; and, what is more important still, society has itself learned the value of organized labor as a bulwark against the aggressions of militant capitalism. The man who thinks that labor can be permanently repressed and exploited is mad, and his madness is a menace to the future peace of the country.
Neither can we solve this problem by talking about the interests of capital and labor being identical under the present system of industry, and by bringing capital and labor together into any such “moonshine” organization as the Civic Federation. We might as well recognize the fact once for all that, just as long as higher wages mean lower dividends, and shortened hours mean lessened output, the interests of capital and labor are not identical but opposite, not mutual but antagonistic.