“Well; he is opposed to the corn laws.”
“The corn laws are very bad laws,” said Enoch, “and the sooner we get rid of them the better. But there are worse things than the corn laws.”
“Hem!” said Endymion.
“There are the money laws,” said Enoch.
“I did not know you cared so much about them at Manchester,” said Endymion. “I thought it was Birmingham that was chiefly interested about currency.”
“I do not care one jot about currency,” said Enoch; “and, so far as I can judge, the Birmingham chaps talk a deal of nonsense about the matter. Leastwise, they will never convince me that a slip of irredeemable paper is as good as the young queen’s head on a twenty-shilling piece. I mean the laws that secure the accumulation of capital, by which means the real producers become mere hirelings, and really are little better than slaves.”
“But surely without capital we should all of us be little better than slaves?”
“I am not against capital,” replied Enoch. “What I am against is capitalists.”
“But if we get rid of capitalists we shall soon get rid of capital.”
“No, no,” said Enoch, with his broad accent, shaking his head, and with a laughing eye. “Master Thornberry has been telling you that. He is the most inveterate capitalist of the whole lot; and I always say, though they keep aloof from him at present, they will be all sticking to his skirts before long. Master Thornberry is against the capitalists in land; but there are other capitalists nearer home, and I know more about them. I was reading a book the other day about King Charles—Charles the First, whose head they cut off—I am very liking to that time, and read a good deal about it; and there was Lord Falkland, a great gentleman in those days, and he said, when Archbishop Laud was trying on some of his priestly tricks, that, ‘if he were to have a pope, he would rather the pope were at Rome than at Lambeth.’ So I sometimes think, if we are to be ruled by capitalists, I would sooner, perhaps, be ruled by gentlemen of estate, who have been long among us, than by persons who build big mills, who come from God knows where, and, when they have worked their millions out of our flesh and bone, go God knows where. But perhaps we shall get rid of them all some day—landlords and mill-lords.”