Life's ironies beset us whichever way we turn. The very day that Woodrow
Wilson signed the tariff bill, I discovered that Emmeline is a
Protectionist.
Thrice in the course of the evening I alluded, with pretended calm, to
the signing of the bill, without awakening the least response in
Emmeline. The tariff apparently had no meaning to her. Thereupon I
reproached her openly.
"It is characteristic of your sex," I said, "not to betray the slightest
interest in a matter that comes so intimately home to you. Here is a
bill which is bound to affect the problem of high prices. Every woman
who carries a market basket, every woman who shops, every woman who has
the management of a household on her hands, is directly concerned in the
question of lower tariff duties. Yet I dare say you haven't read two
lines on the subject in your newspaper."
"What have we been paying duties on?" she said.
"On everything," I replied with spirit. "Anchors, for instance. We have
been paying one cent a pound on them. That means twenty dollars a ton.
You know what the average anchor weighs, so you can figure out for
yourself what we have been paying out all these years for this commodity
alone. We have been paying 85 per cent. on bunion plasters, 10 per cent.
on animals' claws, and 85 per cent. on teazels."
"But we hardly ever use any of these things," she said.
"I was simply illustrating the iniquitous extremes to which our tariff
advocates were prepared to go," I said. "It may seem natural to put a
duty on beef, and shoes, and cotton goods. But the tariff barons were
not content. Insatiable greed demanded that a tax be put on teazels."
"What is a teazel?" she said.
"I am not sure that I know," I replied. "But that just illustrates one
of the favourite methods of the tariff plunderers. It consisted in
slapping a stiff duty on articles people did not know the meaning of and
so would pay without protest. I say teazels, but, of course, I mean
meat, and sugar, and cotton, and woollen goods, all of which things will
soon be within the reach of all. I should imagine that women would be
grateful for what has been done to make the living problem so much
easier."
"Under the new tariff bill," she said, "will there still be only
twenty-four hours to the day?"
"The new tariff doesn't repeal the laws of astronomy," I replied.
"That is what I was thinking when you spoke of the living problem being
made easier for us," she said. "Putting twelve more hours into the day
would be a help. Did the old tariff have a big duty on hanging up
pictures?"
"I don't know what you are driving at," I said, but in my heart I
thought I knew.
"I mean," she said, "around moving time. I have always thought there
must be a very heavy tax on every picture that a man hangs up; or
rugs--"
I decided that frivolity was the best way out of a situation that had
suddenly become menacing. "Usually we don't hang up rugs," I said.
"That may be an oversight on our part," she replied. "Perhaps, if we
hung up rugs and put pictures on the floor it might appeal to your
passion for romance. You might even find it exhilarating."
The idea seemed to fascinate her.
"There are a great many things," she went on, "that I should like to see
on the free list. Seats in the Subway, for instance. I stood up all the
way from Twenty-third Street this afternoon, but I suppose the duty on a
man's giving up his seat to a woman is prohibitive. Then there's Mrs.
Flanagan who comes in by the day. She has a baby who is teething and
cries all night. I wish there was a lower duty on babies' teeth, so that
they came easier; and on sleep for mothers who have to go out by the
day. I also wish there was a lower duty on the whisky that her husband
consumes. She could possibly afford to stay at home more than she does."
"He'd only drink himself to death," I said.
But she was not paying attention. "There might be a lower duty on
efficient domestic help. It would be a relief."
"Foreign household help are not under the tariff law at all," I said.
"They come in free."
"That's what the girl said yesterday when she decided to quit, an hour
before dinner. And from the way she spoke to me I imagine that her
language also came in free. The more I think of it the fewer advantages
I can see for us women under your new tariff bill." And then the bitter
truth came out. "I think that on the whole I am in favour of a high
tariff on most things."
"You are in favour of Protection," I stammered, hardly believing my
senses.
"I am in favour of protecting domestic industry," said Emmeline, and I
saw that she had been reading the newspapers more carefully than I
imagined.
The protective system which Emmeline outlined to me that evening would
have made Senator Penrose sob for joy. One of the first things she
demanded was a heavy duty on tobacco. She said she would be satisfied
with a flat rate of 100 per cent. on the nasty article, with a super tax
of 100 per cent. on all half-smoked cigars left lying around the house,
and another 100 per cent. on cigar ashes and half-burnt matches.
Alcoholic spirits should be totally excluded. She wanted a pretty heavy
duty on raincoats left lying on chairs when they should be hung up on
the proper hook. She was also in favour of a prohibitive tax on all
arguments tending to prove that woman's natural sphere is the home.
Lodge dues, club dues, and the practice of reading newspapers at the
breakfast table should be heavily taxed. There were a great many other
schedules she proposed, carrying a minimum duty of seventy-five per
cent. I cannot pretend to remember all, but my impression is that plays
dealing with the social evil and eugenics were among them.
By this time it will be apparent that Emmeline's views on tariff
legislation were somewhat confused. She evidently made no distinction
between import duties, internal revenue taxes, and the police power of
the State. Before continuing our discussion I therefore insisted that we
restrict debate to the specific question of import duties and the cost
of living. The simple fact was that we had now changed from a
high-tariff nation to a low-tariff nation. How would this affect
ourselves and our neighbours?
Thereupon I was subjected to a severe examination as to tariffs and
prices in other countries. My answers were, in a general fashion,
correct, though possibly I may have confused the British tariff system
with that of Germany.
"From your statements, so far as I can make head or tail out of them,"
said Emmeline, "I gather that in protection countries the cost of food
and clothing and rent is always just a little ahead of wages and
salaries."
"You have followed me perfectly," I said.
"Whereas in low-tariff countries people's wages and salaries are always
just a little behind the cost of food, clothing, and shelter.
"That is due to quite a different set of causes," I said.
"I imagined," she said, "that the causes must be other than those you
mentioned. But the fact remains that the choice which confronts most of
us is between having a little less than we need, or needing a little
more than we have. If that is so, it seems to me rather a waste of time
to spend--did you say seventy-five years?--in revising the tariff. I
prefer my own kind of tariff."
"And the cost of living?" I said.
"My kind of tariff gets much nearer to solving that problem," she said.
"But then, why Mrs. Pankhurst?" I said. "If the making of laws has
nothing to do with the comfort of life, why do you want to vote?"
"Because we want to assert our equality by sharing your illusions.
Besides, we can use the vote to bring about a state of things when
voting won't be necessary."
On further thought, Emmeline is not a Protectionist; she is an
Anarchist.