"That is absolutely out of the question, your lordship," he said decisively; "we are all of us trades-union men. Labour must reserve to itself the right to legislate for the general good of the labourer; if it does not, who will? No one!" His tone grew bitter. "We have no right to accept a form of payment which will not give a living wage to----"
"To the weakest, to the bad workmen, the laziest, the most drunken," put in Lord Blackborough. "Personally, I do not see any reason at all why that class of worker should continue to live. You only have to level down to them. But I am not here to combat your views, only to receive your ultimatum. You refuse?"
Mr. Green brought his hand down on the table with dramatic force.
"In the name of Labour we refuse the unjust, iniquitous----"
"Thank you," said Lord Blackborough urbanely, then turned to the secretary. "Mr. Woods! Have you those documents ready?"
"They are here, your lordship." Ned Blackborough threw off his gravity, and holding the papers given him in his hand, smiled round the company, which, as if moved thereto by some magic in his manner, rose also. Mr. Green looked from one to the other. "What had this tyrannical employer of labour up his sleeve?
"Men," said the employer of labour frankly, "I am going to pay you with these," he waved the papers, "for listening to me for five minutes. Labour, they say, is dissociating itself from Capital, Capital from Labour. That may be so. I have nothing to do with that. Personally I have money. I have no work. I don't want money and I do want work. That is my position.
"But what I do see here in this England of ours is that labour is dissociating itself from work. It is labouring all day, and bringing forth--as little as it can! It claims the right to do this little. Well! let it if it likes! But why should it deny to any man the right to work at the rate of which he was born physically capable? Why should it make a swift worker take eight hours to do what he can do in four? If I were to put any one of you on oath, you would admit that it is far harder work to dawdle through eight hours than to work through eight hours. I've seen many bricklayers, painters, plasterers lately hard put to it how to eke out the time, and yet preserve an air of occupation, and I have no doubt you have most of you felt this. Now, think what this means. It is labour, hard labour! this, the enslavement of free work. Neither body nor mind gain full exercise, muscles and brain decay, the type goes down. But this is the system of the day; we begin it in school, where we let children dawdle eleven years over what they ought to learn in half the time. It greets the boy in his first workshop--it dogs his footsteps everywhere, turning work into labour. Work is--is play! Labour is--is the Devil! What beats me is this. Why, instead of slaving and dawdling, shouldn't the good workman, classed together, of course, be allowed to work, say, four hours, and then go their way? It would give us some chance of breeding a type of Englishman that is now fast dying out, that soon must pass away altogether. Men! don't be fools! Men! don't be slaves.
"That is all I have to say. Now for the payment. This is a free deed of gift of these works, made out, with a few necessary legal restrictions, in the name of you delegates, to be held in trust for the workers therein, and this is a cheque for the capital necessary to work it for six months. I have already signed both. I was so certain, you see, that your friend and leader, Mr. Green, would reject my other very reasonable proposals that I came prepared. Will you take them, Mr. Green? My solicitor is here, and you can arrange with him: my part is done!"
"Am I to understand----" almost gasped Mr. Green.