The year’s work had been most encouraging to Marsten. He had come to a
cordial understanding with many of the Unions, not only at home, but in
America and the colonies, and had formed an active alliance with several
societies of workingmen in the United Kingdom. Times were good, business
brisk, and comparatively few men were out of employment. All this
inspired confidence in the success of a strike, for the demands of men
are more certain to be listened to with attention when the market is
rising than when it is falling. There would now be much difficulty in
filling the shops with competent hands, as employment was more general
throughout the country than had been the case for years before.
Marsten had been secretary of the Union for eighteen months before he
made up his mind to begin the contest. He resolved to make a demand for
a ten per cent increase of wages all round, and, if it were refused, to
call out the men at once. The committee met in secret session and the
demand was formulated. A gathering of the men was ordered for Saturday
night, but the subject to be discussed was not stated. Marsten impressed
on his committee the necessity for secrecy, although Gibbons, who was
one of the members, said he failed to see the object of this, as their
desire was to obtain the increase, and that desire could not be attained
except openly. However, he added, Marsten was conducting the campaign,
and it was but right he should be allowed to conduct it in his own way;
therefore Gibbons merely stated his objection but did not insist upon
it.
A deputation was appointed to seek an interview with the directors and
make the demand on Saturday afternoon. After their conference they were
to draw up a report to present to the meeting of the men.
On Friday Sartwell gathered his employees together and announced to them
that, in view of the state of business, the company had voluntarily come
to the conclusion that an increase of wages to the extent of ten per
cent should be given, adding that he hoped the amicable relations
between employers and employed at the works would long continue. This
announcement was received with cheers, and the workers, who knew nothing
of the meeting of the committee, dispersed well satisfied with the
outlook.
It was too late to countermand the gathering ordered for Saturday night,
and when it took place some inkling of what had happened was spread
abroad; the general opinion being that in some way Marsten had been too
clever by half, and had met with an unexpected check.
The young man, however, faced the meeting in good fettle, and
congratulated them on the increase offered. The men were in jubilant
humour, and they cheered everything that was said with the utmost
impartiality. Marsten told them frankly why the meeting had been called,
and he exulted in the fact that the recent unexpected turn of events had
made any discussion unnecessary.
“I have heard it hinted,” he continued, “that I have been out-generalled
by Mr. Sartwell, but we can stand a lot of beating on these lines. Mr.
Sartwell is evidently afraid of the Union _now_. If the mere rumour
that we were about to make a demand induces so stiff-necked a man as
the manager to capitulate before a gun is fired, it goes to show the
tremendous influence we can wield by all standing firmly together.”
It is said that the misplacing of a comma in an act of Parliament once
cost the country a hundred thousand pounds. The one word “now,” spoken
quite unthinkingly by Marsten, made Gibbons grind his teeth in helpless
rage. He saw Marsten triumphant and his own administration discredited.
He determined to make that small word of three letters cost Marsten
dear, if an opportunity of upsetting the confident young man offered
itself. However, Gibbons said nothing, and the meeting dispersed with
cheers.
Sartwell had no delusion regarding the advance he had made the men.
He knew he had merely postponed the fight, but he wanted to be in a
position to show the directors that he had done everything possible
to avoid a conflict. Six months later Sartwell called the directors
together.
“I desire to place before you,” he said, “certain information I have
received. There is reason to believe that a further demand of ten per
cent will be made. If you are going to grant it, I would like to know;
if we are going to make a stand, I would like to know. I will then
arrange my plans accordingly.”
“If we grant it,” said Mr. Hope, “what do you think will be the result?
Will it avert trouble, or will it be made the basis of fresh exactions?
We cannot go on making concessions indefinitely.”
“Giving the increase will probably postpone the trouble for another six
months. I am certain that Marsten wants to force on a fight; he has been
preparing for more than two years. What I want to impress on you is that
the struggle, when it comes, is going to be a severe one, and if you
enter upon it, you must do so with your eyes open, resolved to fight it
to the very end. You may go on conceding until wages are doubled, and
every fresh concession will merely make an ultimate fight the more
inevitable.”
“Then you think we had better make a stand now?”
“Yes; if, having made the stand, you refuse to capitulate on any terms.”
“But if we find, when the strike has lasted a few weeks, that we cannot
hold out, it would be folly to continue.”
“Exactly. You know your own resources, and I know the resources of the
men. You are therefore in as good a position to make up your minds now
as two weeks hence, or a month, or a year. If we enter into a contest we
must win, or I must resign.”
“It is a most perplexing situation,” sighed Mr. Hope.
“Oh, the situation is simple enough. You either give in or you don’t.
Which is it?”
“What are the chances of filling the works with new men, should it prove
impossible to come to terms with our present employees?”
“They are not so good as they were. We could do it gradually, but it
would be some time before we were in full force again.”
“That would mean the refusal of new orders, and perhaps the cancelling
of many now on hand.”
“Undoubtedly. That is the cost of war. We must face it if we fight. We
might be crippled for six months to come.”
“That is very serious. Is no compromise possible? Could you not confer
with Marsten and find out what he wants?”
“I know what he wants.”
“And you think compromise impossible?”
“Frankly, I do.”
“Have you the same objection to meeting Marsten that you had to meeting
Gibbons?”
“As a matter of principle I object to discussing our business with any
outsider. Marsten has never raised that point. When it was necessary to
confer with me he always sent a deputation of our own men. He is a much
more dangerous opponent than Gibbons was.”
“Would you be willing, then, in the interests of peace, to arrange
a conference with Marsten, talk the matter over, and come to an
understanding, if that be possible?”
“Yes. I will send for him at once; but I don’t think it will be of the
slightest use, and it forms a bad precedent.”
It was unanimously agreed that such an action on Sartwell’s part would
strengthen his hands, and that the fight, if it proved inevitable, could
be gone into with greater spirit when all knew that everything possible
had been done to avoid hostilities.
Sartwell invited Marsten to meet him at his office at seven o’clock in
the evening. When the young man entered his first words were:
“You told me I was not to set foot in this office unless I was ordered
to do so; I must apologize, therefore, for coming on a mere invitation.”
“Ah, you haven’t forgotten that yet!” said Sartwell, with a laugh.
“But you do forget apparently that you were here on invitation
before,--during the strike, you know.”
“Yes, so I was.”
“Now, Marsten, to begin with, have you any personal ill feeling against
me for your summary dismissal?”
“Not the slightest. I should probably have acted as you did under the
same circumstances.”
“It is generous of you to say that, but I doubt if you would. However,
not attempting to excuse myself at all, I may say that the event did
not quite turn out as I expected. I hoped that you would call on me, and
that we would--well, arrange an armistice, as it were.”
“I thought you knew me better than that.”
“I didn’t, you see. But let the dead past bury its dead. Let us give our
attention to the present and to the future, and I shall begin by asking
if you have any suspicion that you are a fool?”
“A most diplomatic and soothing beginning, Mr. Sartwell. However, I
suppose we are all more or less tinged with folly, so we won’t quarrel
about terms; but we seem to see the defects of others rather clearer
than we see our own.”
“That is undoubtedly true. It strikes me, then, that you are wasting
your life, and I would like to convince you of that before it is too
late.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. I want an assistant manager. He must be a man of ability and a
man I can trust. I am getting on in years, and will soon stand aside. My
assistant, if he has the right stuff in him, will take my place, and the
future will belong to him. I offer you the position.”
“I cannot accept it.”
“Why?”
“Because I have devoted my life to the men.”
“But you will have an opportunity of doing more for the men in that
position than you can possibly do for them in your present office, where
they grudgingly pay you barely enough to keep body and soul together.”
“I don’t mean the men in these works, but all workingmen everywhere.”
“Rather a large order, Marsten.”
“I know it is, but I feel equal to filling it.”
“I don’t suppose you imagine I make you this offer because I am afraid
of you as secretary of the Union.”
“Oh, no. I am well aware that you want to avoid a fight, and I know
you are afraid of nothing except that your directors will not back you
through to a finish.”
“Do you imagine that your own backers are as adamant?”
“No. My weakness is Gibbons and his gang. Yours is the board of
directors. One neutralizes the other, so it will be an interesting
fight.”
“Make no mistake, my boy; a capitalist will back his man ten times as
long as a worker will his.”
“I haven’t your intense admiration for the capitalist. Mr. Hope promised
me, almost with tears in his eyes, to look after my future when he found
I was working to settle the other strike which so terrorized him. I and
my friends succeeded in breaking up the strike, yet you discharged me a
week after, and I doubt if Mr. Hope ever gave a thought to his promise
from that day to this. Your capitalist is notoriously timid and
thoroughly selfish. The workingman has his faults, of course, and he is
himself the greatest sufferer from them; but in generosity he is miles
ahead of any capitalist that ever lived.”
“Then you are determined to fight, Marsten?”
“Oh, no! Not if you give in.”
“How often shall we have to give in?”
“Until such time as the compensation given to the workers is at least
equal to the amount taken out by the so-called proprietors of the
business.”
“Ah, that is Utopian, which is simply another word for nonsense. Now,
why not be perfectly frank and say you are resolved to fight us?”
“My position is this, Mr. Sartwell: I don’t want to fight for a fight’s
sake, and I have no revengeful desire to humiliate you or to defeat the
firm for the mere glory of victory; but I am convinced the men will
not get the fair share of what they make until there is a fight and a
decisive victory. A few years ago the very right to combine was Utopian
and nonsensical in the mind of the capitalist, yet that right is one of
the undisputed facts of to-day. The capitalist won’t concede anything
until he is forced to do so. Therefore there must be a struggle, and I
am bound to choose my own time and my own battle-ground. We are ready to
fight now, we are going to fight, and I believe we are going to win.”
“Exactly. That is what I wanted to know. As to winning, we shall see. I
quite agree with you that there is nothing so satisfactory in the
long run as a square, stand-up fight, and let the best man win. The
combatants have a mutual respect for each other afterwards. The trouble
is that the contest is rarely free from the side issues that affect the
final result. In this case you are not sure of your backers; neither am
I. If I were the owner of this establishment I would bring on the war
instantly, carry it through with the relentlessness of a Barbary pirate,
win it, of course, and have the most contented men in England in my
employ ever after. As it is, the trouble is not going to be decided by
either your generalship or mine, but by the relative constancy of our
backers. If the men round on you before my directors get a trifle
more frightened than they are now, then you will be defeated. If the
directors get panic-stricken first, then I shall go under. It will be a
hollow victory either way, and will not be decided on the merits of the
case at all. It is a toss-up, and, if we were sensible men, we two would
settle it now by twirling a penny in the air; besides, if you do win,
it will be a barren triumph, for you will lose everything you gain the
moment there is a pinch in trade. The only reason you have a show of
winning is because business is brisk, and the directors naturally wish
to make hay while the sun shines. They don’t wish to be crippled and
have a fuss on while their trade rivals are reaping the benefit of their
embarrassment. The moment trade becomes dull again, down will go the
wages, and no power on earth can prevent the fall. It is all a question
of supply and demand. On the other hand, I give you fair warning that,
if I win, not another Union man will ever set foot in these works again.
So if you really have the interests of the men at heart, Marsten, you
will reflect a bit before you bring on the fight.”
“Do you doubt that I have the interests of the men at heart?”
“No, I don’t. I believe you are thoroughly unselfish, but I also believe
you are needlessly sacrificing yourself. You see it is difficult for
us to come to an agreement, for we look out on the world from entirely
different standpoints. You are at the foot of the hill, and the mists
of the valley of youth are around you, distorting your vision, and
destroying correct proportion. I am up towards the top of the mountain,
where the air is clearer. You see men heroic and noble; I see them small
and mean. You believe in the workingman; I do not. The chances are that
neither of us sees with absolute accuracy, and the truth lies between
the two extremes. Nevertheless, I think the day of chivalrous, unselfish
action is past, and it is every man for himself in these times.”
“I can’t understand why you talk like that, Mr. Sartwell. I have seen
heroic things done even in my short life. I saw a man come out of these
works alone and unprotected, when he knew the mob outside was howling
for his blood, yet there was no trace of either fear or bravado about
him. The same man nearly lost his life in saving others when the
factory burned, and Braunt, an unlearned workingman, did unselfishly and
chivalrously go to his death in the same cause.”
“Ah, Braunt was one of a thousand! Well, perhaps there is something
worth preserving left in human nature after all, and may be I am merely
growing old and pessimistic. Anyway, the main point at present is that
there must be a trial of strength; so I suppose there is nothing for
us to do but shake hands like a pair of prize-fighters before the
performance begins. I think you are foolish, you know, not to take the
sub-managership.”
The two men shook hands, and Marsten departed into the night. Sartwell
sat in his office for some minutes thinking over the situation.