- able man, he is the head; and the prophet that teacheth
lies, he is the tail,"—but their remedy would lie not in increased reliance on a theocracy but in a more adequate popular referendum. John Barton concludes his impassioned tirade against mill-owners and capitalists with the argument,—[1]
"Don't think to come over me with th' old tale, that the
rich know nothing of the trials of the poor; I say, if they don't
know, they ought to know. We're their slaves as long as we can
work; we pile up their fortunes with the sweat of our brows, and
yet we are to live as separate as Dives and Lazarus, with a
great gulf betwixt us: but I know who was best off then."
On another occasion he adds this explanation,—[2]
"What we all feel sharpest is the want of inclination to try
and help the evils which come like blights at times over the manufacturing
places, while we see the masters can stop work and
not suffer."
To this serious and personal grief Meredith responds,
as it were, in his more impersonal and ironic manner. Diana
represents the view from a position of equality, and
the satire of one's own class:[3]
"And charity is haunted, like everything we do. Only I say
with my whole strength—yes, I am sure, in spite of the men professing
that they are practical, the rich will not move without
a goad. I have and hold—you shall hunger and covet, until
you are strong enough to force my hand;—that's the speech of
the wealthy. And they are Christians. In name. Well, I thank
heaven I'm at war with myself.'"
Kingsley is spurred by the subject to a bitter sarcasm:[4]
