From whatever side we view him, the average hireling is a shameless contemptible being. He cannot be classified among “men,” any more than a capon can be classified as a gamecock. Continuous drudgery stiffens his body — ossifies both his hand and brain — makes him an idiot in fact. Even when women (indulgent though they be) regard him as a disdainful object, incapable of either great thoughts, great deeds, or of providing them with a home. Hirelings are nearly always on the verge of pauperdom — always praying, howling, and weeping before their taskmasters, crying out with a loud voice like spoilt babies, “O don’t hurt us — don’t hurt us — we are so ‘good’ — so law-abiding — we love Jesus so!” Capitalists, kings, and presidents never take these servile hounds into consideration — nor do sensible women. In grand affairs hirelings are merely inventoried as so much raw material or so many head of cattle; and in sexual affairs, they must of necessity, mate themselves with second-rate women — who cannot possibly find anything more to their taste.
What woman in her senses desires to be a breeder of drudges, lunatics, and sans-cullotes?
The very idea of “Labor” is in chains and yokes. There is no dignity in a bent back — no glory in a perspiring brow — no honor in greasy copper-riveted rags. There is nothing very delectable in picks, shovels, and calloused paws. ‘Dignity of Labor!’ — Dignity of hell!
What is grand in a horny hand?What is free in a bended knee?What is brave in a pauper grave?What is bold in a lack of gold?
O ye generations of Christ-deluded imbeciles! Ye swarms of moonstruck meeklings! Ye burnt out cinders of men! — ye bleeding lambs! One day! One day! ye shall be flung to the lions! Behold! I spit upon your Idols — your Opinions. Now would I pour molten hell through the ventricles of your soul.
“O wretched minds of men! O blind hearts! not to see in what darkness of life, and in what dangers, is spent this little term of human existence.
For as children are frightened of fancied objects in the gloom, so we in broad daylight, often fear what deserves no more to be feared, than the shadows the children dread in the dark, and fancy they must exist.”
END OF BOOK I
P.S. Book II will be issued when circumstances demand it.
CHAPTER VI: THE LOGIC OF TO-DAY
Might was Right when Caesar bledupon the stones of Rome,Might was Right when Joshua ledhis hordes o’er Jordan ’s foam,And Might was Right when German troopspoured down through Paris gay;It’s the Gospel of the Ancient Worldand the Logic of To-day.
Behind all Kings and Presidents —all government and law,Are army-corps and cannoneers —to hold the world in awe.And sword-strong races own the earthand ride the Conqueror’s Car —And Liberty has ne’er been wonexcept by deeds of war.
What are the lords of horded gold —the silent Semite rings?What are the plunder patriots —high pontiffs, priests and kings?What are they but bold master-minds,best fitted for the frayWho comprehend and vanquish by —the Logic of To-day.
Cain’s knotted club is scepter still —the “Rights of Man” is fraud.Christ’s Ethics are for creeping things —true manhood smiles at “God”.For Might is Right when empires sinkin storms of steel and flame;And it is right when weakling breeds —are hunted down like game.
Then what’s the use of dreaming dreams,that each shall “get his own”By forceless votes of meek-eyed thralls,who blindly sweat and moan?No! A curse is on their cankered brains —their very bones decay:Go! Trace your fate in the Iron Game,is the Logic of To-day.
The strong must ever rule the weak,is grim Primordial Law —On earth’s broad racial threshing floor,the meek are beaten straw —Then ride to power o’er foemen’s neckslet nothing bar your way:If you are fit you’ll Rule and Reign,is the Logic of To-day.
You must prove your Right by deeds of Mightof splendor and renown.If need-be march through flames of hell,to dash opponents down.If need-be die on scaffolds high —in the morning’s misty gray.For “Liberty or Death” is stillthe Logic of To-day.
Might was Right when Gideon ledthe “chosen” tribes of old,And it was right when Titus burnt,their temple roofed with gold:And Might was Right from Bunker’s Hill,to far Manila Bay,By land and flood it’s wrote in blood —the Gospel of To-day.
“Put not your trust in princes”is a saying old and true,“Put not your hope in governments”translateth it anew.All “Books of Law” and “Golden Rules”are fashioned to betray:“The Survival of the Strongest”is the Gospel of To-day.
Might was Right when Carthage flameslit up the Punic foam —And — when the naked steel of Gaulweighed down the spoil of Rome;And Might was Right when Richmond fell —and at Thermopayle —It’s the logic of the Ancient World —and the Gospel of To-day.
Where pendant suns in millions swing,around this whirling earth,It’s Might, it’s Force that holds the brakes,and steers through life and death:Force governs all organic life,inspires all Right and Wrong.It’s natures plan to weed-out manand test who are the strong.
The Higher LawFrom Sandy Hook to London towerFrom Jaffa to Japan,They can take who have the powerThey may keep who can.
This is the law of Heaven and HellStupendous and divineThe highest, holiest law of allThat governs “mine and thine.”
The law it is of Sun and Star,Of President and Pope —It is “the prisoner at the bar”The gallows and the rope.
It is the lawyer and his fee;The shearer and his sheep —The eagle soaring swift and free;The dreadnaught on the deep.
It is the Bond; it is the Loan —The profit and the loss —The usurer on his Bullion Throne —The Idol of the Cross.
It is the Goth; it is the Hun —The tyrant and his prey,And flame and saber, club and gun;O, taxes that we pay!
It is the law of all the climes,And all the things to be;And all the bold tremendous timesThat you and I shall see.
From Sandy Hook to London tower,From Greenland to Japan —They will take who have the PowerAnd they may keep who can.”
— Redbeard’s Review
Pax Vobiscum
Fill high your vaults with booty,Bid evolution cease,And chant Belzchazzar’s anthem —“O, Baal preserve the peace.”