I love: and day by day, as absent, pine…
July 5, 2023On Being Human
July 5, 2023Ernest: The Rule Of Right – Book VII
BOOK VII.
He ended–and his speech from one so mild
And maiden-like, amazed them utterly,
As who should see a flash of lightning start
From a blue sky. Long they stood wondering
And witless what to do, much less to say;
The sudden danger yawning at their feet
So startled them. The first, on his return,
Was Linsingen, to frame his mind in speech
From that surprise. “Hermann, what you have said
It is not words but a sheer wonderment.
Do I behold thee indeed–art thou thyself?
Give me thy hand–ah, well–but why then lock
This counsel from thy friend? Beshrew us both–
Holding so high a stake upon this game
Methinks I have full right to know its plan–
And have my hand too in the play of it,
And Hermann, either you did flatter me,
Or this our undertaking, I am its head.
The head as I once thought, and others too
Upheld me for no less–but now it seems–
This your new–something–hath made nothing of me:
And I’m the empty skull, that other brains
Supply me–
I’ve risked all, my means, my life,
My pleasures, ah! how genial to enjoy!
But I have whistled them away to the winds.
And stand myself here on this dizzy edge,
Where none but madmen have foothold for their hope–
And how ’tis doomed in Heaven, Heaven only knows.
But, for the worldly rate, all affluence
Of Honour, how full swoll’n soe’er, were but
A thing of straw against this waste of wealth.
E’en tho’ ’twere safe–such honour–not what ’tis–
Reeling its wild round like a gamester’s ball–
With but one hopeful hit ‘gainst misses amain,
And then all lost–bare as I was erewhile,
Better and braver so ‘gainst winter and winds,
Than my new flush of leaf, which gives no strength
Against the storm, but larger hold and sway
To its sweeping onset–Hermann! this from thee!
If such thy friendship, what were my foes’ hate?
How should they e’er screw the rack high eno’
When their time comes to wreak their will on me.
‘Fore Heaven, I fear not danger, all I wish
Is to be first and foremost meeting it–
Nor am I such a plodder, if I know
Myself, so like an overburden’d ass,
That any other man need trip my heels,
And, so supplanted, take my room himself,
Shouting for hotter speed–a will-o’-wisp–
To flash in front of them–only take heed
Lest such a leader land you in a bog,
And so fulfil your hopes.
Well–I care not–
What I have done I mean others should rue,
Not I myself: nor is my heart so poor,
So brain-sickly, as sot-like, to puke now,
When wassail leaves him muddled on its ebb
From his high fit. No, be ye false or true,
Shifter or trimmer, I am none–hold fast
What I take up–neither an underling
Nor upstart over others–save what they
Were free to give, and I worthy to take;
But of my own merit becomes me not–
Withhold its meed who will”–
“Nay–’tis thy right,”
With heart o’erflowing Hermann answered him,”
“Freely and faithfully I yield it thee–
Take it and hold–’tis earnestly thy own.
But oh no word–e’en whisper’d–of mistrust–
Thou know’st how little a damp may check the train–
Must so miss fire–and a two-headed plot
Is but a monster of no lasting life,
How stoutly limbed soe’er. Then think no thought
But that we hold thee our acknowledged head
To lead us all, and we to follow thee.
What late I said, trust me, that utterance
Was but a fainter echo of thy own,
Thy spirit–tho’ by me outspoken amiss.
Then no more words–rather the proof of them.
That proof, so let it come, welcome whene’er,
We will fulfil it. Only command thou
Boldly–and we will back thee all as bold,
That the head shall have no cause to say to the hand
‘Thou coward.’ Whate’er thy call, we answer it–
Forward or back? which shall we? speak the word.”
“Forward in name of God,” cried Linsingen,
Fired as with sudden lightning. “Whate’er be,
We will abide it. See–on the slope there–
By Heaven, a goodly muster: if they be
As strong in daring as they seem in show,
No more were need”–
They reached that sundering
Ridge, and there stopping, waved their hats on high
For friendly token: Those awaiting them
Beheld and knew and gladly answered it;
Greeting them with so hearty loud a shout
That the lone lapwing wheeling o’er their heads
Started aside, as from the fowler’s shot,
At that so sudden alarm: soon were they met
With hasty earnestness and grasp of hand:
Not such as holiday meetings are wont,
Mirthful and light; but as when man with man
Is leagued to do some danger, and hands clasp
Consciously, in fast-bound conspiracy;
Suppress’d, yet strong.
Sudden a murmur ran,
A birth without a father, thro’ the crowd,
Stirring its surface up into a swell,
Bodal of storm: and as that crowd was swayed
This way and that by fitful eagerness,
So by the shadow of their coming cloud
With wild unwonted feelings hearts were stirred
Swelling to meet it. Linsingen awhile
Left their deep smouldering warmth to work in them
Each upon each; till the glow spread throughout,
Threatening to burst in flame. Then he strode forth,
And mounted on a hillock there hard by;
Heaped up of yore for warriors’ burial.
“Haply my forefathers–and haply I–
If those who grind us now–Vengeance thou’rt slow
To come, but thy beginning brings their end–
Here Kings are buried, and here Freedom is born,
In this birth-hour. Hail to her! So ’twere well;
Happen what may to me.” He stood on the mound,
And suddenly that tumult became still–
An awful stillness, ere the hurricane
Utter its wrath.
“Friends, neighbours, countrymen,
Ye were a happy people ‘mong these hills
‘Neath my sires’ sway: and so would be again,
If Nature were herself, unmarred by Man:
And ye might welcome her free from the scourge
Of these raw rulers–Ah! it grieves me sore–
So sore; that for this bitter wide-spread grief
I relish not God’s special gifts to me.
True–I am wealthy–and you–the yoke-bearers
Are but poor men: Yet are we all alike
One kind–still closer, for that faithful tie
Between our forefathers. Ah! happy days!
When Right and Nature ruled–She gave to them
Her wealth, who gave to her their livelong toil,
(So once our clan laboured these common lands)
And the idle hand she left it empty too.
And so should we; but for their selfishness–
Their kind and gentle selves–the Aristocrats–
The rats–a true name, taken by the tail–
So call them–for why lengthen in the mouth
The bitter tang–But we might bear e’en this–
If this alone: but bad begets still worse:
And I’yranny, where once it makes a sore,
Must fret and gnaw it to an angry foul
Ulcer–with cankering claws.
We were content
To till God’s free gift Earth for our hard bread;
And pay for leave to do it: Yes, Industry
Pay Idleness the grain and best of the chaff
For leave to be itself. This had we borne–
But then comes one demanding what our toil
Hath earned to buy its bread and eat in peace,
For wars to wage therewith–in Christian love–
And so Christ crucified again–hewn–shot–
Drown’d in a gore of blood–by us, his sons,
Against ourselves and him–Can this be well?
Oh no–and what is next betters it not,
But makes the wormwood venom. Ye all know
How, striving in scant hope, our sturdy toil
Hath yet improved that hope to harvestage,
And waste to wealth–hath tamed yon rugged hills,
Made conquest of their stubborn barrenness,
And set its golden sheaves for trophies up
Over the field. Methinks, who did so much,
Deserves a better quittance for the deed
Than beggary and gaol. But toiling worth
Is but a silly ass–must do drudge-work,
And then–eat thistles. Well, our fields are full.
Down comes the parson–like a crow at scent
Of carrion, and claims the law of us:
He who ne’er lent a hand at time of need,
To put it in then first at harvest-tide,
Taking his tenth–so leaving us our loss,
To live on it. A man strange to us all,
A lone black raven, croaking hatefully,
Whose doctrine was ne’er heard or known to us,
Or known but for the off-curse of our souls.
What followed on that claim is deep in your hearts,
I will not brand it deeper by my words.
Let woe go weep in silence. My dear friends,
Are ye already full to the overflow,
Or needs there one drop more? Said I a drop?
Oh! ’tis indeed a flood doth threaten us
With rage most ruthless. Aye–yon hills–yon streams–
Ours and our forefathers, our inborn right,
Which to tear from us ’twere as well tear out
Our eyes from out our heads–these must they have–
And we must shrink within our dull clay-walls:
For if we peer beyond them, well I ween
‘Tis outright treason. Such a thing as this
Burdens us worse than man can bear–the back–
And harder yet, the heart: gores our whole life.
Whoso but thinks of it, his thought straightway
Must lash itself to madness. But what boots
To think, or talk, or mutter, or aught else
But rise and strike forthwith. ‘Tis all is left:
The one good hope that sets us wretches above
The toad in harrow–aye, and with this one
We may requite our loss, with gain thereto;
Else be forlorn of all.
My friends, this tale
I’ve told it truly, as an earnest man;
Truth without aggravation. For what needs
To flare up Hell with fireworks, or fire-words?
Besides–my heart–its outswell chokes my speech:
What more I should–forgive me–better I were
At sword-stroke, my sires wont. Hermann, stand forth
And speak our wrongs as thou well knowest them;
And if thou can’st devise some milder means
To quench this fever without flow of blood,
I’ll hold thee for a healer above price,
And bless thy skill: else we must draw the sword,
E’en as our foes compel us, and God wills.”
That speech was Truth, but, utter’d brokenly,
It died in air, seeking an answering shout,
But finding none in that full meeting of friends:
Faltering halfway; e’en as a miner’s train
Broken, before the lurking magazine
Hath caught its flash, and with a burst of wild
Uproar, outblown all round. Yet, what he spoke,
Twas not unknown, nor unapproved to them:
They willed none other: but the many are like
Tinder, soon firing, if the flint strike swift
And strongly on the steel, and the sparks fall
Streamingly–else dull, cold, and dark: for light
And heat they have but scantly in themselves;
Must from without. The forward faculty
Of words, to wield them, cannily, at will,
Never did Linsingen give heed to it
And lacked it now–with his cramped utterance
Baulking their zeal–as a flagging sail bemocked
By gusts untoward. Oh words! air-words! how much
Stronger than substance are ye over will!
Who would be great must con and ken ye well
To help his greatness. Linsingen stood back;
And Hermann, thus, calmly at first, began:
“My friends! my brethren of this Fatherland,
I thank ye, that ye’re met thus earnestly;
And these same thanks your children shall repeat
To bless your memories; and what erewhile
I wondered, that your patience was so tame,
That wonder is rebuked, and your wise truth
Self proven from its fruit; else were this birth–
This outbreak, now so hopeful, since ripetimed,
Abortive from rash hurry. What ye’ve heard
Of evils by our leader here rehearsed,
Doubtless you’ve felt them also deep within,
Worse than the bitterest words. The man that writhes
Beneath a whip, needs none to whisper him
‘This smart is true, thou dreamest not.’ But ye–
Have ye so felt, that feeling hath become
A flame, and with its sufferance fed its strength
For self-redress? For me, my calling is God’s–
A Gospeller, a shepherd of men’s souls:
And I have striven that my working life
Should earn itself that name–not that the name
Should throw its cloak of falsehood o’er my life.
And in this truth, as I have walked in it,
So, have I taught ye evermore the like,
To practise faithfully and earnestly
What ye profess. Such faith should give its own
Proof, in forbearance of wrongs done to it.
So, I beseech ye, undergo in Christ
Each his own burden, wreaking not himself:
But for his neighbour and the commonweal;
Impatience of their wrongs is all as true
Righteousness as to bear meekly our own.
Aye, and I tell ye, the one lives and grows
Out of the other’s death. All we forego
Of indignation, each on self-behalf,
We hoard it for our brethren and country’s need
To crush her outragers.
That warrants us
Thus rising to redress her rightfully.
For ’tis not restiveness ‘gainst public wrong,
But passiveness beneath it that keeps back–
Nay–but stamps down–Man’s welfare. When without
Cause, did e’er folk revolt? ‘Tis not the curb,
But the spur, they need. Selfishness fears to stir–
Will rather suffer–(so short-sighted is wealth,
So coward, so mean)–than help uphold the main
Fence with its several stake. Thus doth each man’s
Default lay open the whole All-man’s field
To one man’s rule.
Look round–how many huge
Nations, whose hugeness might be great, if free,
Are sunk in slavery? Age after age,
Father to son. ‘Tis fear and faint distrust
Of his fellow, so dooms man to cowardly
Forbearance–‘neath the Tyrant’s wilful yoke–
Wrongful howe’er: those tyrants–that distrust
Upholds them–and they too uphold it in turn
Most foully–what care they for sighs and groans?
‘Tis shot and steel and trusty fellowship
Of Patriots must stir them–but that sharp
Avenging Angel, few and far between
Are his onslaughts–Godly and glorious whene’er.
Hallowed each Marytyr who in righteousness
Answering that angel-call by high behest
Uprises to resist and sternly smite
The evil Ruler, worst of wrong-doers–
Fighting ‘gainst him, for God–
This had ye done
Many years since, then had much sin been spared
To your Rulers, and much sufferance to you:
And yet ’tis well–since that sour leaven hath raised
Your souls to Freedom; and your meekness spurned
Warrants ye by sheer force to win, what Truth
With lowly prayer protesting, is but paid
With mockery: from robbers to preach back
Their prey! How humble! how hopeful!
No–our Lords
Make famine law; and we must quit them home,
Making Rebellion duty–look to the wise
Statesmen of the West–one penny, wrongfully
Taxed on their tea, to them was a just war–
They fought and won it–glorious thenceforth–
And we–our bread–our life–thus clipped! dear friends,
I do beseech ye for the good of all
Abate the wrongful few; drown Flunkeydom
In the gutter–plush and all–lace, puff bag, plumes,
Put Manhood in its place–Wreak your short wrath–
That lasting peace may ‘stablish on sure grounds,
Our rights, our lives, our fortunes of us all.
For me–ye’ve known me long, and what ye know
Be it my witness; if tried hitherto,
True in all else, staid–earnest–free of self–
Then trust me this: and oh! misdeem me not
To think I and my office are at odds
For that, since this sore mischief gnaws our life,
I counsel ye–but what ‘vails counsel? whom sheer
Stress of misrule doth drive us to such deeds–
As else I would not, for all worlds to win.
But now both Need and Conscience cry us on
And Faith–for know ye brethren what Faith is?
No sluggard thing, but like the air we breathe,
Which feeds our life with its calm influence,
But yet can storm foul things away; and stir
This world’s pool, with its healing angel-wings.
Yes, it comes down to win us peace on earth
Thro’ its own warfare–for what Christ himself
Said, that He cast a firebrand light ‘mong men,
That must we do: preparing the Lord’s way,
Straightening the crooked paths, smoothing the rough,
Filling each valley, levelling each hill.
So shall all flesh see God’s salvation wrought,
And Faith fulfilled. This for my function’s sake:
Lest ye should deem I wrong its holiness,
To bless thus boldly and hallow your outbreak.
Next, since with force outright meet them we must–
Our force, what is it, in amount and plight,
How willed, how weapon’d, how enured to war?
Why brethren, neither witch nor wizard am I,
Nor have no spell to make our weakness strength,
Nor their strength weakness–only–we are men–
And in our manhood must we strongly win,
Or sternly die. Ah! but if that be our aim,
There have been others have essayed the like:
And how they sped, their history is writ
In their own blood–the headsman’s axe fulfilled
Its sharp behest more surely than their sword.
True, they fared ill–most true, they died half-way,
Whom this low world, that they should live in it,
Was all unworthy. Martyr, hangman and judge
Are dead alike; the loss of life, the odds
Of a few years, Time hath made even now.
But there’s an after doom all must abide:
And there are three men and three several hopes,
And which think you the best and fairest one?
Oh! I’ve strong faith their earthly doom stands not
In Heaven–Sure for the good fight they fought,
Wrestling ‘gainst principalities and powers,
The rulers of the darkness of this world,
There is laid up for them a righteous crown
By the Lord’s grace–So for the heavenly hope:
Now for the earthly one. They failed and why?
‘Twas their will first, and then their shaft, fell short.
For what is he but a fool, the man who fain
Would shoot thro’ a steel plate, and strings his bow
With a silk thread, and draws it silken-like,
Most girlish? but on their ruins we climb,
O’er the dead body of their enterprise;
The mouldering bone-heaps–their sad witnesses
Of downfal, our shrewd warning for success.
But how succeed, what hope, what means, which way?
Why, brethren, ’tis but first to know yourselves–
How strong–so knowing, and so manfully
With your known strength working your righteous will.
For ye are the main body, sinew, bone,
Blood of this land: and what ye will, ye shall,
Spite of your lords: whose strongest power is but
An idle plume, that waves on the steel cap,
And idly waving fondly brags itself
To guard the head and crown it over-flaunts:
A show for courtly sunshine, joy and pride,
To swell the flunkey soul, but in the crash
Of fight, ‘mid flashing swords and cloven helms,
Where is their vaunt?–gone!–for the feather it is,
Fluttering down the wind.
Friends, what ye will
That shall ye have, so ye will earnestly.
But such an earnest will needs earnest worth
For motive. There they erred, who fondly dreamt
Their brain-born constitution had some charm
That full contentment needs must follow it.
A thing without heart, life, or likelihood,
With ink for all its blood–a birth still born–
In the printers’ winding sheets. That idol fell–
Fell, flat as Dagon. The folk’s eager will
‘Gan wane, and then, wrathful to feel itself
So fooled, broke out, self-maddened; till in that
Mad fit, it stormed all strength away, then sank–
Sank down, weakly and listlessly, to wear
The old fetters.
But for us, a better wit
Guides us a better way; and, be ye sure
The spirit that we raise we’ll feed it too–
Fail it shall not for food. Rash say ye–how so?
Come forth the man who said it. Yes, erewhile
I was discreet in counsel and in deed;
But well I know boldest decision now
Is best discretion. What, again? brute force,
Say’st thou, brute force? why yes, my feeble friend,
‘Tis truly to be dreaded: but by whom?
By those whose wrongful weakness withholds aught
From rightful strength: look to our sires! long years
They wasted arguing, then armed and won.
E’en so must we likewise; since peace is a plague,
Gird we our loins for war. Ye, who’ve no sword
Sell each his coat and buy one; for know this:
The devil of selfish sway will rend us sore
Ere he quit hold of us–scabbard away–
He hath no ears for parley–and best so–
For in old abuse compromise is no cure,
Better off-sweep it with high-handed sway.
Self-willed: which asks no warrant from times past,
And those that shall come after, gives them none;
Since sprung from the sword’s point, not the Law’s pen.
Needing no curious adjustment nice,
No purblind charters; nor fears shallows or straits,
Since steering the main sea–so were all safe:
So should our revolution go full round,
Smooth as the earth revolving in mid-air,
No partial cheek nor jar–selfish concerns
Confounded in main change: no struggle or spite,
Quibbling, that frets against small tampering shifts,
But wonder and dumb awe–e’en prejudice
Once launched, losing all hold of olden things
Must needs along, must cling to Freedom’s ark,
Foregoing its fond trappings, or else drown
In Freedom’s flood–nor bicker against doom,
But undergo the yoke.
True the folk’s will
Is slow to kindle, heavy to upraise,
But set our lever once on the land’s self,
We’ll heave it high enough. Then if your will
Hold fellowship with mine, resolve we thus.
Since wrongfulness hath overridden of old
Our hard-earned rights, our welfare, freedom, and faith,
Well nigh to the extinction of all three;
The poor man by the rich outlawed of bread,
The Law depraved, the Church careless of Christ.
And since this folk, forbearing hitherto,
But stirred at last for Truth’s sake and their own,
Hath sought redress of grievance and found none.
But rather hath been mocked of scornful men,
Called, but untrue, the representatives
And working body of the people’s will:
Who yet in truth do none the smallest thing
Whereof that people would. Therefore ’tis thus
Agreed, and thus resolved by those met here.
‘Tis good and fitting that the commonalty
In might and right of its own majesty,
Seeing that selfish lords unanswerable
To its Law, have hitherto trampled it down,
Should undertake itself its own self-rule,
And frame its tide, its life-blood, in its true
Channel, to run straightforward from its source:
From its side-issues feeding its side-fields.
Begin we then from God’s own Truth, hat man’s
True life is mainly self development,
Which cannot be without self-government.
And as the man’s life, so the folks’ likewise
Must be self-framed thro’ its own mind’s forewill,
Else were that life some other’s, not its own.
Hence must the folk’s will settle the folk’s law
Not for the gain of few, but the main good,
Likeliest reached by self-rule; since no folk
Willingly wrongs itself; or at worst, when known,
Will sure redress the wrong. Thence, how folk-rule
Were best fulfilled, ’tis our main need to know.
Therefore divide this land into new shires,
Thirty or more, with each a million souls,
And forty representatives for each,
Whereof the greatest rentowners shall name
Eight, and the greatest taxpayers eight more.
Each class, on stated qualifying votes
And rents, the higher having plural rates;
The highest, ten, those intermediate
As council shall deem best; the lowest two–
All below these three several standards, one.
Next the learned callings, those allowed, shall name
Four steadmen; and the other rate and tax
Payers shall last name twenty; since the highest
Stands not without the lowest; and the higher
A State is reared, it needs a broader base.
Besides, no safeguard else the workman hath
Upholding all, but oft down-trodden himself.
But those unrated, who earn wages, or else
Have means, shall pay a poll-tax, and be called
Pollmen, and any three of them may choose
To vote for them, by secondary voice,
One steadman, who shall give one vote for the three.
So none shall be denied free choice, but those
Who live by idle alms or theft, nor pay
E’en the poll-tax–such have no part with us.
For bulwark some must be ‘gainst rabble rule:
Since only the warm working blood can build
The body; which rejects or excreates all
Dull or dead offal as unfit for its frame.
Hence only those should choose State-rulers who bear
State-burdens–so shall worth have steadying weight.
Such forty steadmen, making the shiremote,
Shiremotes-men shall be called, and rule the shire:
Which so, shall be self-governed in its own
Concerns, a lesser State within the main.
Choosing its headmote for executive,
Committee-men for reference and report,
And Senate for revisal, fifteen men,
Who shall vote first in the main body, and then
Revise its sanctions. This shiremote shall have
Large powers, but local only, and e’en these
Subject to regulation by the main
Landmote; but such control to countervail
These lower motes shall choose that highest one.
Thus–each of the twelve hundred from the shires
Shall name, for the main, one hundred, women or men.
At large, no local limit: for so worth
Shall likeliest get its due reward, and so
May lofty minds, tho’ few and far apart,
Combine their rays to one true central choice,
And thro’ such concentration reach their ends
Hopeless from trivial suffrage. And of those
So named, the hundred on whom most votes meet
Shall serve–thus mainly–but some specialties
Omitted here, must riper counsel adjust–
Then, as the shiremotes, the mainmote likewise,
Its process shall ordain and settle its state,
Thro’ headmote, senate, and committee-man:
Thence, single and supreme shall rule the whole land,
From this its constitution: which shall ne’er
Be changed, unless by two-thirds of its own
Motesmen, and also, of the joint shiremotes–
From such safeguards Democracy hath hope,
And so, its fearful name forgotten, and fierce
Nature foregone in righteous mild folk-rule,
It sets more truly forth the fable old:
To belly and limbs adding head and heart–
Its heart the folk’s will–the lawmote its head–
Its belly the main toil-won wealth–its limbs
The workmen. Thus the whole, fitly compact,
May grow up one true body, one live Church,
Atoned in Christ to God. A body now
Hugely uncouth and brutish; but henceforth
Within its stalwart fabric, sound and safe,
Confining and compressing its own force–
May guide from its head-counsel its heart-blood;
Tho’ swirling oft, never o’erswelling in wild
Excess: and haply so shall speed its hope–
But thereto needs stedfast conservative
Channels, a strong-boned life-stead to frame blind
Hot-blood: for loose power works no good, but waste
Only, until in due limits coerced–
Thus be the State-rule settled: and, henceforth
The rule of property should be redress’d
From its wrong bias unto its right aim–
Which is, indeed, to comfort industry
As sure it doth, where Reason limits it–
Tho’ oftener, self-seeking greediness
Hath wrested it, to pamper idleness:
Resolve we then this foremost–the land’s growth
By God’s grace given, belongs only to those
Thro’ whom, by work or wages, skill or means
‘Tis grown; hence on each farm be the farmer’s stock
Rated, and for its use a yearly hire
Be paid him on that rate from the land’s growth,
And for his management a further share;
Also some quittance to the owner of late,
And for State-tax; the rest, they who have toil’d
Shall share, by rule of overseers ordained
To allot hands to work, and judge debates;
But for the landlord ’tis an impious name,
By man usurped from God–name and right too
We forsay wholly and bury them for dead.
Henceforth the State shall hold their ownership,
Paying them compensation, lest they starve:
The less as they have taxed the more our bread
For many years, and now must quit the account.
But since high-birth with breeding, hath some soul
Of goodness, specially its own, tho’ oft
Self-shamed–and courtesy, which, more than speech,
Lifts man above brutes, should belong to it,
Thence in that hope, Gentry we will uphold
For sake of the whole folk more than its own;
Nor will we only uphold, but strengthen it,
On its landstead, deep-rooted from old time.
Erst as landowner, hence as landholder–
For such landlordship courteous and high-born
Is Aristocracy; when true, a truth
Lovely, not hateful; tho’ some hate its name:
But lest it sink to Alazonocracy
In dronish proud self-will, we must find means
How its good leaven may work thro’ the loaf–
Therefore each shire in hundreds shall be split,
And these in tithings–and each tithing choose
From its indwellers, motes-men for its own
Friendsmote, and for the main friendsmote of the whole
Hundred, one steadman. These friendmotes shall be
For social ministration, as lawmotes
For legal–or as crime and causemotes, each
For its calling. Shall State ordinance, choose heads,
And divide functions: taking cognizance
Of what belongs to them; friendly concerns
Improvement, pastime, furtherance of whate’er
Helps welfare; soul or body; science, art,
Skill, culture; comfort, social and spiritual:
‘Bove all, of their poor brethren’s need–their main
Mighty undertaking, unwieldy to all else
But Christian Love, which hence shall supersede
The hateful iron Poor Law, enforced no more.
And of these friendmotes, bye and main, the chief
Landholders in the country, and in towns,
The foremost townsmen shall be senators:
And with them others, whom professional
Skill, trade and wealth shall name, each from its bulk.
That choice may overrule ill chance: and thence
Those that were hitherto but forestanders
Shall be foredoers–each to undertake
What best becomes him and belongs to him
After his calling–so a circle wide
Of Christian work were open to each will–
But that were little–common erst as air,
And no more prized–but now–’twere much to feel
The spur of special duty, and the glow
Of fellowship: to swell the cheerful shout
Of progress, lend an earnest helping hand
‘Gainst Satan’s tottering throne, and do the work
Of a new manly, Christian, godly world–
Not of the old self-hacknied worldiness.
To be God’s fellow-workers–That were much–
These friendmotes mean and hope it. So our new
Landholders shall become a living power
From a dead ownership. Leading aloft,
Not like a kite’s tail, all unwillingly
Draggling and wriggling after. So shall speed
What now they clog–each in his several range
Mainly, but helping others, where he can,
For social, moral, and material good.
O’erseeing the poor, schools and hospitals;
Furnishing in fair halls at public cost
For mote-days their friend meetings, for folk-days
Teachings and recreations; helps for art,
Skill, science; music, lectures, manly games
In parks and gardens; welcoming the folk
With kindly hospitable holidays.
So best may Aristocracy assert
Itself, and, haply, blend thro’ handicraft
And drudging toil some gentler feeling and grace,
And love of fair refining fellowship.
With hope to make these slow grades stepping-stones
To the all-atoning altar crowning them.
So may such shire-motes, f