Q. Biped or quadruped?
A. I believe, biped.
Q. Of what are they ordinarily composed?
A. Mud, tempered with ditch-water. Sometimes they are made of road-scrapings; they are sometimes found of pure clay.
Q. What is your duty towards the rabble?
A. My duty towards the rabble is, from the very bottom of my heart (wherever that may be) to loathe, detest, hate, and abhor them.
Q. As everything has its place in the condition of the world, what—in your opinion—in the scale of creation, is the proper place of the rabble? Take, for instance, an individual. One of the rabble?
A. I believe that one of the rabble is a—yes—a sort of link between an ape and a contented labourer. I have, I think, read of apes that chop sticks and draw water, and walk upright on two legs; I have no doubt that moral anatomy would establish the analogy. No doubt of it. Yes; one of the rabble is a link between an ape and a labourer—a contented labourer.
Q. Has the rabble any voice?
A. Certainly not: it is the want of voice that is the rabble’s distinguishing want.