Roland Graeme: Knight. A Novel of Our Time

by Agnes Maule Machar

Then he traced the working of the same great principle in the field of labor, in the long line of progress,—from the first rude work of the solitary artisan, making even his own tools, through the gradual evolution of machinery and division of labor, through the immense impulse given to this by the application of steam, and, latterly, of electricity; then through the massing of joint-stock capital for the use of this new power on a far grander scale; and, finally, to those gigantic profit-sharing combinations, or so-called "Trusts," which to-day seriously threaten the public interest, but which are only the abuse, by the few, in favor of monopoly, of the great and true principle of brotherly trust and coöperation.

For the abuse, he went on to say, there was only one radical remedy, and that was a fuller extension and wider use of the principle of brotherly trust or coöperation. It must govern all through. It must be extended to the laborer, as well as to the capitalist. The main secret of the success of the latter was his use of this principle. The laborer must learn the lesson, as well as the capitalist. Even at the beginning of the present century, the rich returns awaiting coöperation had been easily seen. How was it that men, generally, had largely failed to enter into coöperative labor? Was it not evident that moral as well as material progress was needed? that the mass of men must more and more learn the value and enter into the spirit of Brotherhood, of brotherly trust?

Having, by means of careful simplifying and appropriate illustration, endeavored to make this position clear to the minds of his audience, Roland went on to the practical application of his text.

Their organization, as Knights of Labor, was, he said, founded on this principle of brotherly trust and coöperation, in order to protect their rights and interests from the encroachments of selfish organizations. He thought they had rights to protect, but their success in protecting them would be mainly dependent on the spirit in which they should defend them. They had a right to insist on the shorter hours of work, which their own welfare, under the increased pressure of working to unresting machinery, imperatively demanded. They had a right, too, he thought, to insist that productive labor should receive a larger share of the wealth it produced. But, to make good their claims, they must act, not in a factious, selfish spirit, but in that of brotherly fairness and generous trust. They must be true to themselves, true to their employers, true also to the great outside body of unorganized labor. If they acted selfishly toward these, they would show themselves unworthy of the benefits of coöperation. One of their motives in seeking shorter hours should be the greater chances for employment which would thereby open up to the great army of the unemployed. They must cultivate a spirit of brotherly faithfulness to all men, and of regard for each other's interest. They must teach this to their children, for whom they must secure the best education within their power. They must think not only of rights, but of duty, of helping others as well as themselves. With thrift, steadiness, mutual confidence and the franchise, the workingmen of America could be masters of the position. If they would refuse to sell their votes to partisan politicians, their intelligence to liquor-sellers, their children to those who would set them to premature drudgery;—if they would be true to the interests of coöperative labor generally, true to the grand ideal of human brotherhood and faith in its realization, they need despair of nothing they could reasonably desire. For this life of ours was not ruled by mere chance, or blind force—whatever some may say. It was under the guidance of a Power of which one of their own poets had said

"Who counts his brother's welfare
As sacred as his own;—
Who loves, forgives, and pities;—
He serveth Me alone."

But he would give them the picture of what might yet be, when classes and churches had ceased to waste their strength in war, and men had truly learned to help each other,—in the stirring words of Henry George, words that he could not improve upon:

"It is not the Almighty, but we, who are responsible for the vice and misery that fester amid our civilization. The Creator showers upon us His gifts—more than enough for all. But like swine scrambling for food, we tread them in the mire—tread them in the mire, while we tear and rend each other!

"The fiat has gone forth! With steam and electricity, and the new powers born of progress, forces have entered the world that will either compel us to a higher plane or overwhelm us, as nation after nation, as civilization after civilization, have been overwhelmed before. It is the delusion which precedes destruction, that sees in the popular unrest with which the civilized world is feverishly pulsing, only the passing effect of ephemeral causes. Even now, in old bottles, the new wine begins to ferment, and elemental forces gather for the strife!

"But if, while there is yet time, we turn to Justice and obey Her, if we trust Liberty and follow Her, the changes that now threaten must disappear, the forces that now menace will turn to agencies of elevation. Think of the powers now wasted; of the infinite fields of knowledge yet to be explored; of the possibilities of which the wonderful inventions of this century give us but a hint. With want destroyed, with greed changed to a noble passion, with the fraternity that is born of equality taking the place of jealousy and fear that now array men against each other, with mental power loosed by conditions that give to the humblest comfort and leisure—who shall measure the heights to which our civilization may soar? Words fail the thought! It is the Golden Age of which poets have sung, and high-raised seers have told in metaphor! It is the glorious vision which has always haunted man with gleams of fitful splendor. It is the reign of the Prince of Peace!"

As Roland ended his concluding quotation with all the enthusiasm that it stirred in himself, a burst of applause rose from the audience, which had followed his lecture with riveted attention—only two or three men having gone out during its earlier portion. He had arranged with Waldberg to follow the close of the lecture with another "piano recital," and the young musician immediately broke in with a spirited rendering of the "Marseillaise," followed by the "Wacht am Rhein."