CHAPTER XXI.

WORK AND WAGES.

The lecture Mr. Jeffrey was to deliver was well advertised, and excited

a great deal of interest in Minton. The name and character of the

lecturer were so well known that people were anxious to hear him, on the

score of his personality, apart from the special interest of his

lecture. That, however, was interesting in different ways to many, and

those who took the side of Capital, as well as those who took the side

of Labor, were, from their different points of view, equally desirous of

hearing what a man regarded as an authority on the subject would say

about it. And a still greater interest was excited when it was announced

in the _Minerva_ that Mr. Jeffrey, in the course of his lecture, would

discuss and meet some opinions which Mr. Wharton had lately expressed in

that paper, in opposition to positions Roland Graeme had advanced in

_The Brotherhood_. Now that so redoubtable a champion had entered the

lists, the contest appeared a more respectable one. Even Mr. Pomeroy

would scarcely have ventured to call Mr. Jeffrey a "crank," and Mr.

Wharton went to the lecture, expecting some intellectual pleasure, at

least, despite the promised criticism of his own views.

The Pomeroy family was, this time, represented by two members. Harold

Pomeroy had actually braced himself to the exertion of sitting through

it, which, with Kitty for company, "would not be so bad after all." His

father would not go, but wished that his son should, for decency's sake.

Miss Pomeroy was naturally eager to hear more of a subject that had

begun to interest her very strongly. The Blanchards were there, of

course, and so was Philip Archer. And Mr. Chillingworth, on this

occasion departing from his usual indifferent attitude, condescended to

show some interest in one of the most important questions of the day.

The hall was crowded, for the most part, with a very different audience

from that which had been collected to hear Roland's lecture; but a part

of it had, by Roland's care, been specially reserved for the workingmen,

of the more intelligent of whom there was a good representation; so that

"Capital" and "Labor" might have been said pretty fairly to divide the

audience between them. Mr. Jeffrey was a tall, spare man, of striking

and manly presence, with a slight stoop. His fine broad forehead was

shaded by waves of iron-gray hair. His dark eyes and firm mouth carried

out an impression of earnestness and decision. He entered the hall,

accompanied by Roland Graeme, who briefly introduced him, and listened

to his lecture with the combined earnestness of a reporter and a

sympathetic auditor.

The lecturer began by expressing the pleasure it had given him to come

to Minton, to reinforce the good work begun by his esteemed friend, Mr.

Roland Graeme; the pleasure of whose acquaintance he owed to their

common interest in the grand movement, in favor of which he had the

honor to speak to-night.

This prologue caused a distinct sensation in some quarters. Harold

Pomeroy opened his eyes, and glanced at Mr. Archer, whose moustache

curled as usual, though with what expression, it would have been hard to

define. Nora gave a slightly triumphant look at both, and Kitty stole a

mischievous glance at Mr. Chillingworth's somewhat contracted brow. As

for Roland himself, however, though naturally gratified by the

recognition, which he did not report, he was quite unconscious of any

implied compliment; regarding it quite as a matter of course, that

community of interest in any great movement should draw together those

who were engaged in it. Mr. Jeffrey, in entering on his subject,

remarked that he could not possibly prevent his subject from appearing

somewhat dry; but that, notwithstanding its dryness, it was fraught with

the deepest interest and importance to human welfare. He began by

referring to the unquestionable fact, that "the laboring classes of all

civilized nations have been and still are, as a body, _poor_," while

another fact, "that nearly all wealth is the production of labor," would

seem to make it natural that all should have possessed some of it, had

not something intervened to prevent this result. What that was--that

"something," that cause or causes--and whether this seemingly unnatural

result could be changed, or modified, he now proposed to inquire.

He then explained the nature of property, as being almost entirely in

some way the product of labor. As this, then, was the means of procuring

property, and in a healthy state of society the only means of doing so,

it followed that "to obtain labor without rendering a fair equivalent,

is a violation of the rights of property." No one could deny this. The

only difference of opinion would be as to what was a fair equivalent. Do

the workingmen of America, for instance, receive for their labor a fair

proportion of the wealth they produce?

Following somewhat in the line of Roland's lecture, Mr. Jeffrey then

traced the causes that led to more and more unequal distribution of

wealth, the great discoveries that have made expensive machinery,

division of labor and production on a large scale, essential features of

our complex civilization. He sketched the processes by which large

concerns have gradually swallowed small ones, by which small mechanics

and traders have been gradually driven from the field; while "the

master-workmen and journeymen of a hundred years ago are to be found at

the bench or lathe of the mammoth workshops of the day, not as

independent workmen but as mere _automata_, to pull the levers which

release the cranks, gears and pulleys of the machinery that performs the

former labor of their hands."

This state of things, however, was an inevitable accompaniment of

scientific and material progress. If it had this unquestionable

disadvantage, we have to take the evil with the good. We could not enjoy

our railways and telegraphs, our cheap papers and books, and a thousand

other comforts and luxuries of life, without such drawbacks. And while

there was truth in the contention of Mr. Ruskin that the minute

subdivision of labor tended to destroy the artistic feeling of pride and

pleasure in finished work, still this might be more than counterbalanced

by the growth of the spirit of coöperation, of brotherhood, in labor.

Men might learn to take pride in combined work as well as in individual

work, as the soldiers of a regiment take pride in gallant achievements

of the whole body. The artistic spirit in work might be called forth,

and men might cease to work as _automata_, if they felt that they were

sharers in an enterprise, not mere "_hands_." But the increasing

inequality of the distribution of wealth utterly prevented this feeling

of proprietorship in work, and placed employer and employed in a

position of selfish antagonism. How could this be remedied? At this

point the lecturer took up a clipping from the _Minerva_, containing one

of Mr. Wharton's articles. That gentleman moved uneasily, and settled

himself into an attitude of critical attention.

"Look at Wharton!" whispered Mr. Archer to Miss Blanchard. "He knows

he's going to catch it, now!"

It was maintained, he said, by the writer of this article--published in

one of their leading journals--that the poor were _not_ growing poorer,

that the average laborer of to-day was not more poorly but better paid

than the average laborer of the past. The able writer of this article

had submitted a formidable array of statistics to prove his position.

Well, he was not going to question the accuracy of the statistics. But

there is much force in the saying, notwithstanding all that we hear of

"mathematical truth," that "nothing lies like figures," that is, when

they are called in to prove more than _sums_. Aside from the great

difference in the value of money, which was somewhat set off by the

greater cheapness of many articles to-day, there were many other

considerations that must not be left out of sight in determining whether

the laborer was even _as well_ paid now, as, for instance, in England,

two or three hundred years ago. For it must be remembered that comfort,

after all, was largely a relative term, depending on our ideas and

requirements. A savage would find comfort in a life which to a civilized

man would be intolerable. Our growing complex civilization had developed

many artificial needs, many of them an integral part of progress, the

non-gratification of which involved real privation. He would ask them to

hear the description of the interior of an English manor-house, about

the time of Queen Elizabeth. They had all heard about the old English

manor-houses, with the mention of which they were always ready to

associate the most refined and graceful life of the day--the

manor-houses of Trollope, for instance, through whom most of us know

them. Well, this is what they were like in those days; he quoted from

Thorold Rogers:--

"As might be expected, the furniture of the manor-house was scanty.

Glass, though by no means excessively dear, appears to have been rarely

used. A table, put on tressels, and laid aside when out of use; a few

forms and stools, a long bench stuffed with straw or wool covered with a

straw cushion worked like a bee-hive, with one or two chairs of wood or

straw, and a chest or two for linen, formed the hall furniture. A brass

pot or two for boiling, and two or three brass dishes; a few wooden

platters and trenchers, or, more rarely, of pewter; an iron or latten

candlestick, a kitchen knife or two, a box or barrel for salt, a brass

ewer and basin, formed the movables of the ordinary house. The walls

were garnished with mattocks, scythes, reaping-hooks, buckets,

corn-measures and empty sacks. The dormitory contained a rude bed, and

but rarely sheets or blankets; for the gown of the day was generally the

coverlet at night."

"Now, then," he said, [1]"compare this 'interior,' with what we see

to-day in the home of the average manufacturer, the beauty and luxury,

the thousand costly superfluities;--and would any one say that the

condition of the laborer had improved in anything like the same ratio?

It might even be gravely questioned, in many cases, whether it had

improved absolutely. For, although there were many additional comforts

within the reach of all but the poorest, still, the unhealthy conditions

of life resulting from massing families together, in close and

unwholesome houses, more than neutralized the advantages. But if any one

wanted to know more of the actual state of things in this free and

independent America, let him read in Henry George's 'Social Problems,'

certain statements by commissioners of labor statistics. Let him read of

the intelligent workingmen of Illinois, that 'the one half are not even

able to earn enough for their daily bread, and have to depend upon the

labor of women and children to eke out their miserable existence.' Let

him read that, in cultured Massachusetts, the earnings of adult

laborers are generally less than the cost of living; that--in the

majority of cases--workingmen do not support their families on their

individual earnings alone, and that fathers are forced to depend

upon their children for from one-quarter to one-third of the family

earnings--children under fifteen supplying from one-eighth to one-sixth

of the whole earnings. Was it any wonder if such children died

prematurely, worn out by unnatural labor?" and here he quoted, with

telling effect, Carlyle's famous description of the sad fate of the

murdered little Dauphin of France, ending with the strong, touching

words--"as only poor factory children, and the like, are wont to perish,

_and not be lamented_!" And, to quote Henry George again, let them think

of "the thousands who swelter all summer in swarming tenement houses and

dirty streets teeming with squalid life! Draggled women will be striving

to soothe pining babies, sobbing and wailing away their little lives for

the want of wholesome nourishment and fresh air; and degradation and

misery that hide through the winter will be seen on every hand." It was

pictures like these, he said, that brought home the facts of the case,

whether the position of the workers was better or worse. Even Minton, he

doubted not, could supply them with some such scenes.

[Footnote 1: For several passages in quotation marks in this chapter,

the author is indebted to Henry George's works, to "Labor and Capital"

by Edward Kellogg, and to articles in the "_Popular Science Monthly_,"

by George Iles, and Benjamin Reece.]

At this point Mr. Wharton took his note-book and pencilled an entry.

"Wharton's getting ready for a reply!" whispered Mr. Archer. "He thinks

he's got a point for his answer." But Nora scarcely heard him, so

riveted was she in painful interest on the lecturer's words. He went on

to another point.

"He knew," he said, "that the laborer was said to be extravagant.

Doubtless neither laborers nor their wives were always economical,

judged by the standard of the New England housewife. But that required

special training--ages of training--and what chance had they to acquire

it? But, after all, what opportunity had the laborer to be extravagant,

when the price of the day's work would hardly pay the day's board and

lodging in a comfortable house in our cities? Do the factory operatives

in most countries live extravagantly, or the seamstresses in London or

New York? Yet they earn three, four or five times more products than

they actually consume, and these go into the possession of the class of

persons who live comfortably or luxuriously, without performing much, if

any, productive labor, or advancing the moral and intellectual

well-being of society. Might not the laborer, on his side, in such

circumstances, say that his earnings are swallowed up by the

extravagance of employers?"

He next touched the question of "over-production." "There were periods,"

he said, "when one house is filled with families, one to each room, from

cellar to garret, and the adjoining house stands empty for want of

tenants able to pay the rent. Goods are piled up in store without sale,

while great numbers of the laboring community are ragged, and are

begging from door to door for old clothes to shield themselves and their

families from the piercing cold; and for the crumbs that fall from the

tables of the rich, to keep them from starving! Was such a state of

things really the result of over-production? If this be indeed the case,

public measures should be taken to avert such disasters by preventing

the excess of labor. Is it not strange that, at the time when the amount

of surplus production is the subject of national lamentation, the people

who produce by their labor the very things which they need for their own

use and comfort, are the ones that are often destitute of them, while a

few capitalists who do little or nothing toward the production or

distribution, are supplied with all the comforts and luxuries of life,

at half or less than half their usual price? But a surplus of cotton has

never remained because no one needed it! The evil," he went on to say,

"does not arise from over-production, but from _under-consumption_ by

the great masses, the natural result of the unequal, and, I would add,

frequently unjust distribution of wealth, keeping, from the toiling

multitudes, what they needed for health and comfort, while the wealthy

minority could not possibly use their surplus for their own needs. And

so the underpayment of Labor reacted on the profits of Capital." He

would not, he said, dwell on the other causes that aggravated the

discomforts of the workingman's lot--the unduly long hours of toil that

wore him out prematurely, and made him almost a stranger to his

children, the long and close confinement of the week; what wonder if,

exhausted and weary, he kept out of their churches on the one day of

rest! Would not most of his hearers, in similar circumstances, do the

same?

Mr. Chillingworth, who had been listening attentively, began to pull his

long dark beard thoughtfully, a habit of his, when thinking about a

perplexing subject.

"But now," the lecturer said, "having explained the evils, I am going to

turn to a possible remedy. Would it not add, _should_ it not add to the

happiness of every one," he asked, "if we could secure the removal of

the grinding poverty and wretchedness, that was not caused by pure

misfortune or misconduct? The residuum would be very easily grappled

with. If," as he fully believed, "the produce of labor constitutes the

natural recompense of labor, why then do not laborers get all they are

justly entitled to receive? The laboring classes make their own bargains

with capitalists, and one another, and all are equally protected in the

property which they lawfully acquire. Undoubtedly, both parties are

governed by their own interests, in making their agreements; but the

circumstances under which contracts are made often render them very

unjust toward laborers. Suppose one of the contracting parties to be in

deep water, where he must drown, unless he receive assistance from the

other party who is on the land. Although the drowning man might be well

aware that his friend on the shore was practising a very grievous

extortion, yet, under the circumstances, he would be glad to make any

possible agreement to be rescued."

Now, as governments are established to protect the just rights of the

governed, he believed that legislation was needed to regulate both the

minimum of wages and the maximum of hours. He had faith enough to

believe in the ultimate triumph of righteous principles of action, and

in the future general fulfilment of the command to every man to "love

his neighbor as himself." But, in the meantime, we need legislation in

many ways, to protect society from the injustice of those who love their

neighbor not at all; and he believed such legislation was needed in this

direction, otherwise the selfish and unscrupulous employer would

frequently crowd out the humane and just one. Railway companies and

joint-stock companies especially require regulation, since corporations,

as we all know, have no souls! He thought that joint-stock companies

should be prohibited from contracting liabilities beyond their actual

capital, since the power of doing so immensely exaggerated their already

too great advantages. He believed that the government should, by all

possible precautions, preserve unappropriated land for the use of the

community, as opposed to selfish schemes of individual aggrandizement.

And he was glad that the Knights of Labor took the attitude of

opposition to all further grants of land for speculative purposes.

In conclusion, the lecturer hoped that the Knights of Labor would be

true to the principles laid down by their public spirited founder. He

trusted that they would maintain an unselfish policy. They were

committed by their constitution to demand for women equal wages for

equal work, and that was well. But they must be generous to unorganized

labor also. Their cause must be the cause of labor as a whole. If they

were to discriminate selfishly between the organized men and the

unorganized, to try to crowd out the tramp or even the criminal who

needs the remedial influences of work, they would simply be repeating

and perpetuating the injustice against which they desired to protect

themselves. Mercy, as well as justice, must be their watchword. For,

"there is no justice without mercy, _it is just to be merciful_!". In

such a combination they would find their true policy, their true

success. The lecture closed with a peroration similar to Roland's

quotation, describing the ideal possibilities of a state of society in

which justice and mercy should prevail, and, in the words of the old

Hebrew poet, "Righteousness and Peace should kiss each other."

The charm of the lecturer's voice and manner, combined with his clear

presentation of his subject, had held the close attention of almost the

whole audience, with a few such exceptions as Kitty Farrell chiefly

occupied in watching her friend Waldberg, who as usual came in late, and

whose services were not, this time, called into requisition. Neither did

he approach Kitty after the lecture, leaving her to the sole attendance

of Harold Pomeroy.

It was Dr. Blanchard who moved the vote of thanks to the lecturer,

saying, that in opposition to the interests of his profession, he was,

nevertheless, moved, by the spirit of the lecture, to thank Mr. Jeffrey

for his clear exposition of evils which included in their result the

production of more disease than any other cause. Mr. Archer, this time,

was equal to the occasion, and gracefully seconded the motion. While Dr.

Blanchard, Mr. Alden, Mr. Chillingworth and Mr. Wharton were engaged in

conversation with Mr. Jeffrey after the conclusion of the lecture,

Roland Graeme accosted Nora, with an expression of half-amused concern.

"I am sorry to say," he said, in a low tone, "that strike we have been

dreading seems inevitable, after all! and, the worst of it is, they will

be crediting this lecture with it, though it really had nothing to do

with it. Turner, that man over there," he explained, pointing out the

man who had seconded the vote of thanks at his own lecture, "tells me

the men have determined to interview Mr. Pomeroy to-morrow, and if he

won't make the concessions they want, to strike at once. I suspect your

friend, Jim Mason, has had a good deal to do with it. He's very bitter

and obstinate. I only hope it will be all quietly done and that the

rough element won't be guilty of any violence."

"Oh," said Nora, in dismay, "what a pity! A strike is such a dreadful

sort of thing, isn't it?"

"Well, there are strikes and strikes," said Roland, smiling a little. "I

rather think this won't last long. And you know there's nothing in a

strike contrary to the laws of God or man, however inconvenient it may

sometimes be for an employer. A workman has just the same right to

demand a just price for his labor, that a merchant has for his goods;

and what he has the right to do singly, he has the right to do in

combination with others. When there is combination to oppress, there

must sometimes be combination to resist oppression. And I think the men

ask only what is right."

"I suppose so," said Nora, thoughtfully. "But I do hope there won't be

any trouble, if it's only for Lizzie's sake."

"I trust so too," replied Roland, as he bade her good-night.

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