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.
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.