ANOTHER MEETING.
IT was on the whole an orderly meeting, and altogether an earnest one.
For a momentous decision had to be made. Many pale and haggard men
present had had no meal worth mentioning through the past day.
The masters' proposals were laid before them. The demand of the men on
strike was for fifteen per cent. increase on their wages. Half this was
conceded. If the men returned at once to work, seven and a half per
cent increase should be theirs. If not, immediate measures would be
taken to procure hands from elsewhere. This was distinctly stated.
Then came the discussion. Should the men accept the offer, or should
they refuse to yield one jot of their demand?
Of course there were opposite views. Pope was loudly in favour of
holding out; and he had his band of devoted followers. Some unionists,
in receipt of a weekly allowance, which, though perhaps small, kept
them from destitution, argued for firmness. But many present were
not unionists; and it soon became evident which way the sense of the
majority tended. Long pressure of want had loosened their implicit
confidence in Peter Pope. Some of them had even begun to think a little
for themselves, independently.
A good many stood up in turn. The delegates who had interviewed the
masters came first. Then Pope was allowed full swing; and many of his
hearers, carried away for the moment by his honeyed phrases, seemed
to swing with him. But others spoke out plainly after, in rough and
terse language, showing up the miseries of the strike and its doubtful
advantages, also in some cases protesting against the tyranny which
would impose upon them all, a yoke chosen by the few.
John Holdfast once again rose, and gave something of an abstract of his
former speech, addressed now to larger numbers. It was well received,
winning applause. When he sat down, Peter Stuckey made his appearance
from a retired corner, and was hauled up on the platform. His crooked
little figure and wizened comical face were the signal for a gust of
laughter; but Peter stood his ground, nodded, smiled, and signified his
intention to "say something."
The chairman, with a broad grin, introduced him to the audience, and
a hail of clapping followed. Stuckey chose a convenient spot on which
to stand, braced himself for mental action, forgot all about bodily
action, and dashed into the fray.
"I've seen pretty nigh all of you before, men; so don't need to say
where I'm comed from. I was a fellow-workman of some o' you once—till
it pleased God to afflict me, and cut me off from such employment.
Well—He gave me a friend to take care o' me, and one as has been a
friend to many a one o' you too, more especial of late. We'll give a
cheer for Mr. Hughes, by and by.—Wait awhile!" shouted Stuckey. "I've
got a lot to say, and bein' none too used to public speakin', I'll
maybe forget."
"You've all been hearing a lot o' sensible words spoke this evening.
More sensible by a long chalk than some as I've heard spoke other
evenings. Werry good, so far! But it won't do to end with talk, lads;
you've got to make up your minds for to act."
"Just you let me say first of all that I takes it this here is a
conversational sort of a meetin' like, an' if any man don't agree with
what's said, he's free to say so."
If this was a clever dodge of Stuckey's, to cover a sudden confusion of
ideas, consequent on his unaccustomed position, it proved successful.
Up started two or three men, and two or three voices cried—
"Got to act how? What action? Put it plain, Stuckey."
"Well, if ye wants me to be the mouthpiece of the meeting, I'll put
it plain an' no mistake," said Stuckey. "Ye've got to consider these
here proposals, and to answer them. Ye've got to settle whether ye'll
say 'yes,' and go back to your work; or whether you give up, once an'
for all. For mind ye, they ain't going to shilly-shally. There's work
to be done, and if you won't do it, somebody else will. Yes—furriners,
maybe—" in response to a general groan.
"It's no manner o' use to howl, boys! Howlin' won't stop 'em. I'm not
especial fond o' furriners; no more than yourselves; but I hopes I've
got a bit o' common' sense; and I do see that. If Englishmen won't
work, furriners will. There's where it is. And it ain't likely the
masters 'll keep the works all idle just as long as you choose, if
others is willing to come and work. I wouldn't, if I was a master; nor
none of you wouldn't, if you was masters. It's common-sense, lads."
"But the masters is willin' to come half-way to you, if you'll go
half-way to them. That's reasonable, that is! As fair an end to a
quarrel as can be; each side a-going half-way to meet the other. You
wouldn't have all the givin' in on one side, would you? Leastways, save
and except the wrong was all o' one side, which is a most uncommon
state of affairs."
"Now I wouldn't go for to say in this here strike which side's been
most wrong, nor which has been most right. Ain't no doubt it's been a
half-and-half concern, right and wrong mixed up o' both sides like the
plums an' suet in a pudden'. There's been mistakes, and there's been
misunderstandings, and there's been a lot of hard words, not to speak
of hard blows; and some o' you's misbehaved yourselves, an' forgotten
your manliness, lads, for all Mr. Pope's so fond o' telling ye what a
set of manly chaps ye be. It is forgetting your manliness, and it's
acting like miserable curs an' sneaks, to set upon an innocent man
in the dark, 'cause he don't see things just as you see 'em! An' you
all know among yourselves whether there hasn't been some'at o' that
sort going on, once and agin. But, howsoever, let's hope we won't have
nothin' o' the sort agin, nor Englishmen forgetting they're men."
"Nor I won't go for to say as the masters is altogether right. For why?
I ain't sure about it. Uncommon pleasant-spoken gentlemen they is, an'
you knows it, an' ready to do a kindness any day. But there's a law of
love and kindness, men, an' a law of thinking for others afore a man's
own pocket; an' I shouldn't wonder if that 'ere law of Christian love
don't always reign in the hearts of masters towards their men, no more
than it always reigns in the hearts o' the men towards the masters.
Eh, lads! I wonder now, I do, which is fittest to fling a stone at the
other, for t'other's want of loving-kindness!"
"Well, now, to be werry plain indeed, an' to come to the p'int—my
advice to you is,—End the strike! Accept these here proposals!"
"And put your necks into a noose!" protested a voice.
"Sounds uncommon like my namesake, t'other Peter," said Stuckey,
peering about with wrinkled-up eyes. "Can't see ye nowhere, friend
Pope, but maybe ye ain't far, seeing ye was on this here platform an
hour since. If so be ye happens to be present still, allow me for to
say as I condoles with ye most heartily, an' expresses the general
sympathy o' the meeting, on the diminishment o' your income like to
come on ye soon. It's werry tryin' to come down of a sudden in yer
income! I've knowed that trial my own self, and my hearers has lately
knowed it in a most marked an' melancholy way. We're werry grieved an'
sad for ye, friend Pope; only 'tis more adwisable as your income should
be diminished, than some hundreds o' families should be sunk altogether
into a state o' starwation."
This sally was received with a burst of laughter, in the midst of which
somebody quitted the hall.
"Shouldn't wonder if that's Mr. Pope hisself, so overcomed wi' the
thoughts of his coming reduction, as he couldn't contain his emotions
no longer. Werry sad for him! No! What—he's here still! Well,
well,—'tisn't for to be expected as all present should disinterestedly
sacrifice 'emselves for the sake o' Pope's pocket."
Tumultuous cheering, mingled with certain loud protests from Pope or
Pope's friends, gave Peter time to rearrange his ideas, and to start
afresh.
"You've all been a-hearin' of a lot o' wise remarks from Holdfast here.
He's a friend o' mine, an' a friend o' many o' you, an' he's a friend
worth havin'. For why? He's a man of sense, an' he's a true man. He
don't butter ye up with clap-trap, and he ain't afraid to do what's
right for fear o' consequences."
"There's been a lot of talk about banding together, and resisting of
oppression. Now I'm not a-going to cry down Trades Unions. I'm not
a-goin' to deny, no more than Holdfast does, that working-men needs to
band together for mutual help and protection, an' lookin' after one
another's interests, as well as layin' by money in store agin' a rainy
day."
"But I'd like to speak a word of warning too, lads. Which is—Take care
what ye're after! Don't ye, in fear of one tyranny, put yourselves
under another. Trades Union men ain't infallible, no more than other
men. Trades Unionism is werry apt to get selfish, and selfishness is
short-sighted."
"I won't deny as Trades Unions has done a lot of good; an' ye needn't
be in a hurry to deny as they've mayhap done some harm too. Just you
think for yourselves. Haven't they sometimes encouraged bad feeling
between men and masters? Haven't they sometimes pushed you into strikes
which couldn't end but in failure and loss?"
"You're free an' independent working-men, ain't you? Well, but I
wonder how many a one o' you dares stand out an' act independent in
the face of the Union? How many a one among you, when he's at work,
dares put forth his best strength, an do his utmost, an' run ahead of
others? Ye don't need that I should tell you how things be! You look
out sharp, men, or there won't be much o' your boasted freedom left
to you soon,—and the tyrants of your choice will be those of your own
standing. Don't see as that 'll make your bondage easier."
"Well, well, 'tis easy to see you don't all agree with me! Not
surprisin', neither, it isn't! For why? There's lots o' bad workmen to
every good workman. 'Tis natural the bad workmen an' the lazy chaps
should want to put themselves on a level with the best an' the most
diligent. But what's natural ain't always fair, nor it don't always
work well in the end. If I was you, I'd learn to look ahead a bit. I
can tell you, shorter an' shorter hours, an' higher an' higher wages,
an' easier an' easier work, sounds mighty pleasant. But it may mean
some'at in the future as won't be pleasant. It may mean trade driven
away from English shores to foreign countries. It may mean less work to
do and too many men to do it, in our land."
"Well; I've given my warning; an' that's all I can do. Anybody got any
questions to ask?"
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