This probing into causes is even more sweepingly operative in the larger society of mankind and the body politic. The study of economics and sociology inevitably has switched the old partisan antagonism into a new opposition based more consciously on theories of government,--still partisan, to be sure, but less on personal and more on philosophical grounds. The new element this brings into political satire is the effort to create a public sense of shame for official incompetence, since in a democracy (and such, in some form or other, is almost every modern State) the blame for this incompetence rests ultimately on the public. Modern critics may echo Isaiah’s scornful complaint of state officialdom,--“The ancient and the honorable man, he is the head; and the prophet that teacheth lies, he is the tail,”--but their remedy would lie not in increased reliance on a theocracy but in a more adequate popular referendum. John Barton concludes his impassioned tirade against mill-owners and capitalists with the argument,--[440] “Don’t think to come over me with th’ old tale, that the rich know nothing of the trials of the poor; I say, if they don’t know, they ought to know. We’re their slaves as long as we can work; we pile up their fortunes with the sweat of our brows, and yet we are to live as separate as Dives and Lazarus, with a great gulf betwixt us: but I know who was best off then.” On another occasion he adds this explanation,--[441] “What we all feel sharpest is the want of inclination to try and help the evils which come like blights at times over the manufacturing places, while we see the masters can stop work and not suffer.” To this serious and personal grief Meredith responds, as it were, in his more impersonal and ironic manner. Diana represents the view from a position of equality, and the satire of one’s own class:[442] “And charity is haunted, like everything we do. Only I say with my whole strength--yes, I am sure, in spite of the men professing that they are practical, the rich will not move without a goad. I have and hold--you shall hunger and covet, until you are strong enough to force my hand;--that’s the speech of the wealthy. And they are Christians. In name. Well, I thank heaven I’m at war with myself.’” Kingsley is spurred by the subject to a bitter sarcasm:[443] “The finest of us are animals, after all, and live by eating and sleeping, and, taken as animals, not so badly off, either--unless we happen to be Dorsetshire laborers--or Spitalfield weavers--or colliery children--or marching soldiers--or, I am afraid, one half of English souls this day.” Nor is he lacking in a constructive outlook. In connection with a fling at the “amusingly inconsistent, however well-meant scene in _Coningsby_,” in which Disraeli illustrates his idea of a beneficent aristocracy, he has one of his characters meditate that--[444]