“I shall be there, George.”
“Why, of course tha’ will, Ben. You an’ ’Siah must lead the hammer men. Those doors o’ Cartwright’s will stand some braying, but yo’ an’ ’Siah can splinter his panels an’ burst his locks, aw’m thinking.”
“I shall be there, George, for my word’s passed. But after that night—yo’ must do without me.”
“Do without thee, Ben? Tha’rt none bahn to duff? Tha’ll noan turn tail, Ben? Why victory’s at hand, man. One blow and the game’s our own. Tha’rt joking, Ben.”
“Aw never were more i’ earnest, George. And it hurts me to tell thee. Yo’ know what store I set on yo’, George. We’ve been more like brothers nor cousins, an’ tha knows, tho’ aw’m not clever like thee an’ high mettled, aw’m neither coward nor traitor. Aw’ve tried to think as yo’ think, George, an’ to see as yo’ see. Aw know it’s all true tha says about th’ sufferings o’ th’ poor; an’ what’s to become o’ th’ working folk when more an’ more machines come up, aw cannot tell. But we’re on a wrong tack, George. Enoch’s none going to stop machinery. Th’ mesters are stubborn, an’ they’re English, too. We may break a thousand frames, an’ clear every machine out of every mill an’ shop in England, but better ones will take their place. We cannot go on for ever wi’ midnight raids an’ secret meetings. The law’s too strong for us, George, an’ we’re kicking against the pricks.”
“Then what would yo’ have us do, Ben? Are th’ working classes to sit down wi’ their hands i’ their pockets an’ watch their families die by inches? If yo’ don’t like my methods tell me better. Do yo’ think I like stealing about at night like a thief, or that I find any pleasure in smashing machines? If that were the be–all and end–all of our campaign, I’d have nowt to do wi’ it. But it’s only th’ beginning, Ben, only th’ beginning.”
“And the end?” I asked.
“We’ll strike higher an’ further. Before many weeks are over I’ll throw off all disguise. I’ll call on every man that has a heart in his breast to join me in a march to London. We’ll strike into the great North–road. We’ll ransack every farm house by the way for arms and provisions. We’ll take toll of every man in every town who has got rich by grinding down the poor. We’ll make our presence and our power known at every hail and castle in the Shires. We’ll strike terror into the hearts of every aristocrat who abuses his hereditary privileges to press down and rob the poor. We’ll march with swelling ranks and a purpose firmer by every step we take, till we stand, an army, at the very gates of Westminster, and there we will thunder forth our claims and wring from an abject Parliament the rights, without which we are driven slaves.”
“And have you counted the cost, George?”
“Aye, that I have. If we succeed, who can tell what we may not accomplish? These cruel lagging wars that keep corn beyond our reach, and are useful only to find riches and glory for the ruling families of the land, shall finish. The toiling masses of England shall clasp in friendship the hand of the uprisen people of France. We will drive from office and power those lords and landowners who for centuries have battened on the poor and used the great resources of this country, wrung from the helpless taxpayer, as their own privy purse. We will establish a Parliament in which the poor man’s voice will be heard. We will sound the death knell of privilege and inequality; we will herald the glorious reign of equality and righteousness. And if we fail, why then, Ben, we shall have died in a glorious cause, and George Mellor for one would rather shed his blood in such a cause than sit mute and consenting, a crushed and heartless unit of a people hugging its own chains. Dost like the picture, Ben?”