[He gives his muter a twist, jerks his head back, and jumps off the platform.The crowd applauds and surges forward.Amid cries of "That's enough!" " Up Union!" "Up Harness!" ROBERTSquietly ascends the platform.There is a moment of silence.]
BLACKSMITH.We don't want to hear you.Shut it!
HENRY Rous.Get down!
[Amid such cries they surge towards the platform.]
EVANS.[Fiercely.] Let 'im speak! Roberts! Roberts!
BULGIN.[Muttering.] He'd better look out that I don't crack his skull.
[ROBERTS faces the crowd, probing them with his eyes till they gradually become silent.He begins speaking.One of the bargemen rises and stands.]
ROBERTS.You don't want to hear me, then? You'll listen to Rous and to that old man, but not to me.You'll listen to Sim Harness of the Union that's treated you so fair; maybe you'll listen to those men from London? Ah! You groan! What for? You love their feet on your necks, don't you? [Then as BULGIN elbows his way towards the platform, with calm bathos.] You'd like to break my jaw, John Bulgin.Let me speak, then do your smashing, if it gives you pleasure.[BULGIN Stands motionless and sullen.] Am I a liar, a coward, a traitor? If only I were, ye'd listen to me, I'm sure.
[The murmurings cease, and there is now dead silence.] Is there a man of you here that has less to gain by striking? Is there a man of you that had more to lose? Is there a man of you that has given up eight hundred pounds since this trouble here began? Come now, is there? How much has Thomas given up--ten pounds or five, or what?
You listened to him, and what had he to say? "None can pretend," he said, "that I'm not a believer in principle--[with biting irony]--but when Nature says: 'No further, 't es going agenst Nature.'" I tell you if a man cannot say to Nature: "Budge me from this if ye can!"--[with a sort of exaltation]his principles are but his belly."Oh, but," Thomas says, "a man can be pure and honest, just and merciful, and take off his hat to Nature! "I tell you Nature's neither pure nor honest, just nor merciful.You chaps that live over the hill, an' go home dead beat in the dark on a snowy night--don't ye fight your way every inch of it? Do ye go lyin' down an' trustin' to the tender mercies of this merciful Nature? Try it and you'll soon know with what ye've got to deal.'T es only by that--[he strikes a blow with his clenched fist]--in Nature's face that a man can be a man.
"Give in,"says Thomas, "go down on your knees; throw up your foolish fight, an' perhaps," he said, "perhaps your enemy will chuck you down a crust."JAGO.Never!
EVANS.Curse them!
THOMAS.I nefer said that.
ROBERTS.[Bitingly.] If ye did not say it, man, ye meant it.
An' what did ye say about Chapel? "Chapel's against it," ye said.
"She 's against it!" Well, if Chapel and Nature go hand in hand, it's the first I've ever heard of it.That young man there--[pointing to ROUS]--said I 'ad 'ell fire on my tongue.If I had Iwould use it all to scorch and wither this talking of surrender.
Surrendering 's the work of cowards and traitors.
HENRY ROUS.[As GEORGE ROUS moves forward.] Go for him, George--don't stand his lip!
ROBERTS.[Flinging out his finger.] Stop there, George Rous, it's no time this to settle personal matters.[ROUS stops.] But there was one other spoke to you--Mr.Simon Harness.We have not much to thank Mr.Harness and the Union for.They said to us "Desert your mates, or we'll desert you."An' they did desert us."EVANS.They did.
ROBERTS.Mr.Simon Harness is a clever man, but he has come too late.[With intense conviction.] For all that Mr.Simon Harness says, for all that Thomas, Rous, for all that any man present here can say--We've won the fight!
[The crowd sags nearer, looking eagerly up.]
[With withering scorn.] You've felt the pinch o't in your bellies.
You've forgotten what that fight 'as been; many times I have told you; I will tell you now this once again.The fight o' the country's body and blood against a blood-sucker.The fight of those that spend themselves with every blow they strike and every breath they draw, against a thing that fattens on them, and grows and grows by the law of merciful Nature.That thing is Capital! A thing that buys the sweat o' men's brows, and the tortures o' their brains, at its own price.Don't I know that? Wasn't the work o' my brains bought for seven hundred pounds, and has n't one hundred thousand pounds been gained them by that seven hundred without the stirring of a finger.
It is a thing that will take as much and give you as little as it can.That's Capital! A thing that will say"--"I'm very sorry for you, poor fellows--you have a cruel time of it, I know," but will not give one sixpence of its dividends to help you have a better time.
That's Capital! Tell me, for all their talk, is there one of them that will consent to another penny on the Income Tax to help the poor? That's Capital! A white-faced, stony-hearted monster! Ye have got it on its knees; are ye to give up at the last minute to save your miserable bodies pain? When I went this morning to those old men from London, I looked into their very 'earts.One of them was sitting there--Mr.Scantlebury, a mass of flesh nourished on us:
