["I am persuaded that the true interests of the entire
working-classes of this country are bound up with respect for
individual freedom, and that to overlook it, or to bring
the smallest interference in restriction of it, unless under
absolute necessity, would be a sad mistake upon the part of
the working-classes."--_Mr. Gladstone to the Deputation of
Miners from Durham and Northumberland._]
I stand between you--Capital and Labour,--
And each of you invokes my "sacred name."
Sacred! Were love of freedom and one's neighbour
Coöperant, claim would not conflict with claim.
But heed my words, outspoken yet meant kindly;
_I_ suffer whilst ye stone each other blindly.
Solicitous--in speech--of my intactness,
Ye damage and deface me in your strife.
Your aims, expressed with full and fair exactness.
Mean fratricidal strife, war to the knife.
Encounter hot, and fierce retaliation
Must vainly prate about conciliation.
Union is strength; but banded for oppression
Toilers are tyrants, and employers--knaves.
Plain speech! Monopolist wealth in high possession
Treated its scattered thralls as serfs and slaves.
And now the lesson of the scourge and fetter
Emancipated toil would learn--and better.
Divide and govern! That, beneath all glosing
About Free Labour, is Wealth's motto still;
Ingenious fudge on shallow wits imposing,
On banded Labour to impose its will,
Capital needs (and lauds) Labour _unbanded_.
The Many-headed dreads the Many-handed!
But set one half his hands against the other,
And e'en Briareus may be safely tackled.
Whilst "Unionist" is foiled by "Blackleg" brother,
Labour fights Capital with limbs half shackled.
Hence Federations chant, in sweet communion,
Hymns to the blessed Liberty of _non_-Union!
And Labour, which loves Liberty--of striking,
Hates "Blackleg" freedom with a furious hate.
"_Make_ all men do according to _my_ liking!"
Seems now the cry all round us in the State.
Monopolist, Miner, Temperance fanatic,
All crave compulsion with a force emphatic.
But Legal Eight Hours Day, or Local Veto,
"Blackleg" suppression, Anti-Union law,
Mean "make the others to myself say ditto!"
"Restriction" is the newest ass's-jaw
For slaying all our foes, from Wealth to Drink,
Hailed with applause, save by the few who think.
If from proved ill to legal prohibition
Were step as plain and proper as some deem,
To diagnose (and cure) the State's condition
Were easy as some Socialistic dream.
But Looking Backward--or e'en forward--'s found
Poor substitute for wisdom's look all round.
Labour, you would be free to fix your wages;
Capital, you'd be free to pick your men:
Love of free Union the one's tongue engages,
Love of free "Knobsticks" fires the other's pen;
But love of Freedom for her own fair self,--
How much of it moves Poverty or Pelf?
Eight hours in the dark coal-seam, good friend Labour,
Humanity admits more than enough.
But _fix it so_, whilst neighbour wars' with neighbour,
And mine with mine about it? Task too tough,
Too desperate dilemma, for a Statesman,
Why you can't settle it with your own mates, man!
Capital, _does_ your passion for Toil's Freedom
Mean much more than desire to smash Toil's Union?
He sells his birthright for the mess of Edom,
The "Blackleg" ESAU selling Work's communion
Into the bonds of Wealth, well knit and strong,
His comrades say. Are they entirely wrong?
Thus Individual Freedom suffers scath
On all sides. Can you plead Necessity's fiat?
For _me_ you boast your love, proclaim your faith,
But, battered by the missiles you let fly at
Each other, I with ROLAND, cry in shame,
What tyrannous things are done in Freedom's name!
* * * * *
[Illustration: TAKING A "BREATHER."
GRAND OLD MINER. "DON'T KNOW HOW I SHOULD GET THROUGH WITH MY WORK, IF
I WERE TIED DOWN TO EIGHT HOURS A DAY!"]
* * * * *