'There's a motto, Ex pede Herculem.

You stepped out for the dogs to judge better of us.

It's an infernally tripping motto for a composite structure like the kingdom of Great Britain and Manchester, boy Nevil.

We can fight foreigners when the time comes.' He directed Nevil to look home, and cast an eye on the cotton-spinners, with the remark that they were binding us hand and foot to sell us to the biggest buyer, and were not Englishmen but 'Germans and Jews, and quakers and hybrids, diligent clerks and speculators, and commercial travellers, who have raised a fortune from foisting drugged goods on an idiot population.' He loathed them for the curse they were to the country.

And he was one of the few who spoke out.