Oh, how those of great influence have fallen!
Nobleman and commoner alike use what I have concieved. Behold my works! You are beholding my works right now as you are reading these words. Yet, no one except a few men of the labor know who I am and what my works mean.
My death was timed unfortunate, the cause of me being forgotten. Fate had it I died in the fortnight when the man named Labor, who provided labor, died as well.
Oh, how the masses wept, nobleman and commoner alike. They wept for the man named Labor. Yet I, whose works make the man named Labor's work possible, and the works of a thousand men more I made possible, passed with barely a single thought.
Who am I?