HOLDFAST'S SPEECH.
"I'VE got a few words to say to you to-night, lads. I'm a plain-spoken
man, as you know, with no particular gift for speechifying; so you'll
have to bear with me, if I blunder, and put things badly. I'm one of
yourselves, and you'll just take my blundering kindly, and look beyond
it to the root of the matter. It's as one of yourselves that I want to
talk to you."
"There's been a lot said already, as to whether you should or shouldn't
go on with the strike. Some are for one side, and some for the other.
Well, I s'pose you all know pretty well which side I'm for. But maybe
you don't all know so well what's my reasons, nor why I'm for that
side."
"Now you needn't think I'm going to pretend to settle the whole
question for you in a dozen words, and expect you all in a moment to
follow what I say. That wouldn't be fair nor sensible. What I want to
do is just to put the thing before you in a reasonable light."
"It seems to me that a deal of nonsense is talked, and a lot of
mistakes are made, in these days, through men not looking on both sides
of a question. You've heard the old story of the shield, and the two
knights looking upon it. One said it was made of gold, and the other
would have it was made of silver; and words ended in blows, and if I'm
not mistaken, one wounded the other to death. At all events, it wasn't
till after there'd been fighting, that somebody passing by showed them
how the shield was gold on one side and silver on the other. So both
were right and both were wrong; for it was gold, but it wasn't all
gold; and it was silver, but it wasn't only silver: A little patience
and common-sense were wanted there, weren't they?"
"Folks do much the same now. One is on the masters' side, and he says
the shield is all gold. Another is on the men's side, and he says the
shield, is all silver. Neither of 'em has the sense to walk round, and
take a look on the other side."
"There's the masters' side of the question, the side of Capital.
There's the men's side, the side of Labour. Each has its rights,
and each depends upon the other. It's all very fine to talk of
independence; but I tell you, men, you can't be independent. There's
no man living who can stand alone, and do for himself without help
from others. You're dependent on others for the food you eat, for the
clothes you wear, for the houses you live in, for the tools you work
with."
"Aye, and more than that; when you buy, you're among the capitalists.
Others have worked for you, and you pay them for their labour. There's
no such sharp division as many make out between capitalists and
labouring-men. It's a question of degrees. The working-man spends less
money, and works more with his hands; the capitalist spends more money,
and works less with his hands. That's the distinction. But they're all
members of one community, and each depends upon the other."
"To come back to the common view of the matter; the greater amount of
capital is in the masters' hands no doubt, and power goes with money.
Yet, if the masters couldn't get hands to work for them, much use would
their wealth be to them. The men do the work, and power goes with
labour too; but if there was no capital out of which their wages would
come, they'd be badly off too."
"Fact is, there's power on both sides, and there's dependence on both
sides. It's the few with capital to balance the many without capital.
More truly, it's the few with large capital to balance the many with
little capital."
"Now you mind one thing that I have to say. Capital is your friend, and
not your enemy. Some among you are given to talking about the tyranny
of capital. Well, I don't say capital is never tyrannical when it gets
a chance, just as I don't say labour is never tyrannical when it gets
a chance too. But the 'tyranny of labour' may be as true a phrase as
the 'tyranny of capital;' and all the while, each is the friend of
the other. Capital is the friend of labour, and labour is the friend
of capital. Capital can't get along without labour, and labour can't
get along without capital. A man 'll sometimes act tyrant to his own
friend, if he gets a chance—when he's thinking too much about his own
pocket."
"One thing's sure. If a man hurts his friend, he hurts himself too in
the long run, whether he sees it or not. The masters can't do wrong
to the men without injuring themselves, and the men can't wrong the
masters without hurting themselves; for each depends on the other."
"I suppose it would be a happy thing if the two sides could come to an
agreement as to their exact rights, and so put a stop to all disputes.
But that's a thing more easy said than done; for the fact is, there's
no one spot where you can say the rights of one side begin, and the
rights of the other end. Or if there is such a spot, it's always
moving."
"I'll tell you what—it's like what the children call a see-saw, you
know. The masters with their capital are seated on one end of the
board, and the men with their labour are seated on the other end. The
plank is supported on a narrow edge, and the very least change in the
quantity of gold at one end, or in the number of men at the other end,
makes a re-adjustment needful to keep the balance."
"Nell, and the re-adjustment can't come about in a moment. If both
parties keep quiet, the board 'll swing a little, and presently they'll
see what the true balance is—whether the masters or the men weigh
heaviest. But sometimes they won't wait. They fidget, and they get
excited; and the plank swings harder, and maybe they end in an upset
altogether, which puts off the settling for a good bit longer. I think
we've had something of that sort lately."
"I'm inclined to believe that the upset don't make much difference in
the long run. The plank 'll find its balance just the same, whether
those at each end sit quiet or whether they don't. It may swing more or
less; but nothing on earth can keep the heavier end from being lowest,
nor the lighter end from being highest, when it does come to rest."
"Matters are something like that in the labour-market."
"You've had a lot of fine words said to you of late by Pope, which
maybe some of you believe. He'd teach you to think that everything is
in your own hands; that you only have to strike and strike again to get
higher and higher wages, and that the masters all keep you wilfully
down, and don't give you your dues."
"Well, I've had a good lot of spare time lately, and I thought I
couldn't do better than read about these questions, and get up some
information."
"I've one fact to give you, as a result of my reading. Facts are
stubborn things you know; and I'm not sure as this isn't a specially
stubborn fact. Any way, here it is. Whatever you and the masters do
or don't do, and whether so be that you like it or not, labour, as a
general rule and in the long run, is always paid at its worth."
"You don't see that, eh?"
"Well, I'll give you the key to it in a sentence I've read somewhere.
'Labour is dear when it is scarce, and cheap when it is plentiful.'
Other things have their bearing on the question, I won't deny; but
you'll always have to work back to this. When trade's prosperous,
and the demand for labour grows, and the masters compete one against
another for hands, then wages rise. But when the market is overstocked,
and the demand for labour gets less, and the men compete one against
another for work, instead of the masters competing for men, there's a
change. Natural enough, those in need of work will take it at a lower
rate, rather than go without; and down the wages run. It isn't a surer
law that water finds its own level, than that wages do the same."
"But suppose now you won't let men take lower wages. Suppose, by the
power of combination, you force the wages to keep at a higher level
than they'd do naturally? That's possible sometimes, I don't deny; just
as you can bank up a stream of water, and hinder it from flowing down."
"I'm not talking about the right or the wrong of such action, nor
whether you've a right to restrain the freedom of others. That's for
you and them to consider. But I'll tell you what must be the result of
such action."
"By forcing up the wages, you make the fruits of your work more dear
than elsewhere. Then other towns or other countries will compete
against you, producing the same things more cheaply. Then the public
will leave you, and buy elsewhere. Stands to reason, don't it, that
folks turn to the cheapest market for their goods? If you men can buy
a serviceable coat for a low price at one shop, you won't choose to
pay a high price for the same at another shop. So, by getting higher
wages than are really your due, you'll have driven away the trade from
your neighbourhood, perhaps from your country; and masters and men will
suffer alike."
"Maybe you'll say that if all working-men over the world joined into
one great league, they could force up the wages everywhere alike.
Well, I don't know as that's altogether an impossible state of things
for a time. But mind you, it would be only for a time. It couldn't go
on always. The produce of higher wages being too expensive for the
condition of the times, people would buy less; or they'd find something
else cheaper to use instead. I don't know as I'm making myself clear;
but it's clear to myself what I mean."
"I can't tell what 'll be the outcome of the present strike. Maybe, if
you go on long enough, the masters will give in, and you'll get your
higher wage. Well, and if so be the state of the market allows it, all
will go right. But if your doing so forces the masters to put a higher
price on the produce of your work than is paid for it elsewhere, we
shall be losers in the end. For trade will flow away from our town.
Customers will go elsewhere."
"You'll tell me now that I'm arguing on the masters' side. But I'm not.
It's the men's side I'm considering; and the trouble you'll all be in,
if a time of slack trade comes."
"I want you all, as I've said before, to take a common-sense view of
the matter. That's what some of your fine speechifiers don't help you
to do. I dare say you'd like it better if I was to talk a lot about
tyranny and oppression, and iron heels trampling you down, and such
trash, and then was to butter you up for a set of noble chaps, the like
of which never trod this earth before."
"You're used to that sort of thing, ain't you, now? But it's not in my
line, nor never will be. You may be noble if you choose—all and any
of you. I don't say you all are; any more than I'd go for to say that
all the aristocracy or all the capitalists of the country are noble.
Nobody's noble who lives to himself, and who's a slave to any manner
of wrong-doing. But there's many a noble fellow among them; and I hope
there's many a noble fellow among us too. Any way, I've a notion that
your iron-heeled aristocracy would be the last to deny the fact. Only,
whether you're noble or no, I do say you let your eyes be too easy
blinded by a handful of dust."
"Now you just think quiet for a minute or two, about this notion of
cheap and dear labour depending on whether it's plentiful or scarce."
"You all know that pearls and diamonds cost a lot more than bits of
glass and wood. Why do they? Because they're valuable, you'll say. But
why are they valuable? Because men want to have them? No, it's not that
only. It's because they're scarce.
"Take the Kohinoor—the grandest diamond in England, belonging to Her
Majesty. Three cheers for our noble Queen, lads!" John's hat went up,
and the haggard men before him responded warmly. "That's it!" said
John, well pleased. "Now about the Kohinoor. I'm afraid to say how much
it is worth. But supposing that instead of one there was fifty such
diamonds in the country. Would they all be worth as much? No, of course
not. And suppose there was ten thousand—why, lots of people could buy
them then, the price 'ud be so much lower. And suppose they were as
common as pebbles in the road; why, then you'd be able to, pick them up
like pebbles, you know, and not have to pay anything at all."
"So a thing is worth more or less, partly according to whether it's
wanted, but mostly according to whether it's scarce or plentiful."
"That's how it is with labour. When there's much work to be done, and
few men to do it, labour is dear because it's scarce. When there's
little work to be done, and many men to do it, labour is cheap because
it is plentiful. And when labour is cheap, no amount of strikes can
make it worth more than it is worth, even though wages may be forced up
unnaturally for a while."
"Would you go for to say," put in a voice, "that strikes are never on
no account to be resorted to?"
"No, I don't say that," returned John. "It's natural and it's right
that working-men should band together to protect their own interests;
and maybe now and then a strike's the only method open to them. Any
way, I do know it oughtn't to be a common thing. For in nine cases out
of ten, lads, the loss is more than the gain. A strike is wise, only
when affairs are in such a condition, that you all know on the very
best authority—not only on Pope's authority—that a rise is your just
due, and that there's no chance of your getting it for a long while
save by a strike. That's a state of things that might be; and then
if you liked to go in for a strike—well, it mightn't be altogether
unreasonable."
"But a strike should be your last resort, not your first. If a rise in
wages is really your due, I suppose it's sure to come sooner or later,
from the pressure of competition, whether you strike or whether you
don't. But if you're mistaken as to the state of things, and a rise is
not your due—why a strike isn't like to do more than bring loss and
disappointment; or even if it does force the wages up for a bit, that
can't last, and things will be worse for your trade in the end."
"It 'ud be a good thing if masters and men would draw together, and be
more friendly-like, and each listen to the other. For there's rights
on both sides, and difficulties on both sides; and there's room on
both sides for a kind and thoughtful spirit to be shown. It wouldn't
do no harm to you, lads, if you was sometimes to put yourselves into
the masters' place, and think how you'd act there. And I wish the
masters would do the same for the men. Not as they don't sometimes,
I'll be bound. There's masters and masters, just as there's men and
men! I don't see as we ourselves have much to complain of. Mr. Bertie
and Mr. Lovett have been good friends to us for many a year. It wasn't
till Pope came to enlighten our ignorance, that we found out we was
grovelling under the heels of two bloodthirsty tyrants."
"No, no; not so bad as that!" cried several voices.
"Hope not!" said John dryly. "Any way, my slavery don't fret me much.
I've got along pretty comfortable, in spite of it—till these last
weeks."
"I say," broke in a fresh voice, "that's all very fine, you know, what
you've been saying; and I don't say there's no truth in it. But I'd
like to know one thing, and that is, why working-men are paid at a
higher rate in other countries than in England?"
"And perhaps, if I answer that, you'll tell me why workmen are paid at
a lower rate in other countries than in England," said John.
"Look at America," was the answer.
"And look at France—look at Germany—look at Holland. It comes in both
cases from the same reason. Labour is more scarce in one place than in
another; or, capital is more plentiful. Either way the wages must rise."
"Twelve to eighteen shillings a day, as I've heard say Englishmen could
make awhile back in a place called Lima," chimed in somebody else.
"Maybe so," John answered. "And if you want to make that amount, you'd
best go there—supposing it's the same still. Only take care too many of
you don't go; for as sure as labour gets more plentiful, the wages will
run down."
"When you think of the lower rate of wages paid to workmen on the
Continent, you'll no doubt say that the advantage on our side is all
owing to Trades, Unions and strikes. But it's nothing of the sort.
Trades Unions, property managed, are all very well in their way; and
a strike at the right time may be a good thing in its way. But Trades
Unions and strikes can't force wages up to a higher level and keep them
there, when the state of the labour-market don't allow it."
"There's trades in England, with powerful Unions, which haven't made
any advance in wages during years past. There are trades on the
Continent, with no Unions at all to push for them, which have just gone
on with the tide; and the workmen have gained twenty or thirty per
cent. on their wages."
"I've spoken longer than I meant when I began; and now it's about time
I should stop. A word more, first. You'll tell me, perhaps, that many a
strike isn't for higher wages, but for shorter hours. So it is. English
workmen are growing mighty careful of themselves nowadays, and afraid
of work. But the rise is the same either way. It's a rise if you get
better pay for ten hours' work than before; and it's a rise if you keep
ten hours' pay for nine hours' work."
"Yes; and it's the same thing in another way. The cost of production
is greater, whichever sort of rise you get; and that means a higher
price for the thing sold; and that means, sometimes, driving away the
trade to some other place. A lot of trade has drifted away from England
to foreign countries, of late years—and why? Just because the shorter
hours and higher wages of English workmen mean higher prices for the
produce of their work—and people won't pay higher prices when they can
get as good for lower. Would you? No, of course you wouldn't!"
"You've borne patiently with me, and I mustn't tax you further, though
there's plenty more I could say yet. But I do want you just to think
over these matters for yourselves, and not be led away by fine talk
which hasn't sense in it. And while you're thinking, you just remember
the wives and children at home. What's best for them?"
Holdfast sat down without another word, and not without his meed of
applause.
But though he was heard patiently throughout, and though he had dropped
some seeds which might perchance take root, yet those present were
few in number compared with the many out on strike; and those few had
not force of character or vigour of will to speak out and to act for
themselves.
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