A New Aristocracy

by Alice E. Bartlett

It was a long battle between a selfishness born of his environment, as well as what he considered the inherent rights of individuals and classes, and conscience and conviction. But the latter finally won the day, and with an eagerness out of all proportion to his former weariness and disgust with life, he set out for Paris and London with the determination to investigate this industrial question to its farthest limit. He was in London on that great first of May, when over two millions of men throughout the world laid down their tools and quietly awaited the declaration of advancing reason. He began to see that the principle of co-operation, based, as it must ever be, on the simple lines of equal opportunity and equal footing before the law, held within its embracing bosom the solution of many of the vexed and complex problems of sociology. It was while in Paris, however, that he made the vital discovery which gave direction and concentration to his study of the industrial question. While rambling with Helen in the purlieus of the great city, he chanced upon a small community of neat flower-enveloped cottages contiguous to an immense factory, and of which they were evidently a part. Inquiry developed the fact that the little village belonged to a manufacturer, who had organized a colony of workingmen on an entirely original plan, in which their comfort was coordinate with the profits to be gained. The cottages were rented to men with families at from one dollar and a half to three dollars per month, with the result that after long service they finally fell into the hands of the occupants. The workingmen were insured against accident, and their savings invested in the works at a guaranteed six per cent per annum. Work was paid for by the piece at remunerative wages, thus giving the skilled workman the opportunity to realize on his ability, and stimulating the unskilled to greater activity. Imperfect work was rigidly rejected at the expense of the employee, thereby insuring the greatest carefulness and exactness. The streets of the little village were handsomely paved, an ornate concert hall and good school-houses adding to the attractiveness of the picture. The unmarried workmen were able to secure comfortable lodgings at three cents per day, and a restaurant provided meals at prices just paying expenses. Discontent was an unknown quantity, while rosy-cheeked children and plump matrons were living proof of the beneficence of the system. In fact, situations were eagerly sought after and rarely vacated save by death or disaster. The profits of the establishment were not, of course, enormous, like so many similar institutions where human lives are sacrificed on the altar of greed; but being moderate yet afforded a safe permanent investment, which was never affected by strikes or lockouts, and which in the zeal and affection of the community for its employer relieved the burden of care and anxiety under which capital so often groans in less favored circles. After weeks of investigation, Herbert concluded that here was the middle ground on which capital and labor must meet before either can achieve an unbroken line of progress. Making himself and Helen acquainted with the owner and promulgator of all this thrift and contentment, and beholding him in his charming home, surrounded by luxuries, and with his daily comings and goings lighted by the smiles and affection of his people, Herbert found his own ambition fired to be the originator and center of a similar community. He realized that the outlay at first would be enormous, involving his whole fortune, and that the most arduous and exacting labor would be demanded of him in its execution. But here under the balmy skies of France was the living prosperous proof that business and sentiment, so universally divorced by popular clamor, may be united in a harmonious and prolific marriage. For the first time within the last two years, Herbert dropped his taciturnity and discussed the project with Helen, who strangely enough had become as infatuated with the little community as had Herbert himself.

“After all, Herbert,” she said plaintively one day, “I believe having your own way all the time is like living on honey—it palls on the appetite very soon.”

Herbert glanced up quickly. “Are you turning philanthropist too?” he asked with a touch of satire in his tone.

“Well, it is in the air,” she answered resignedly, “and I don’t see how one can help being infected.”

“Bravo! Helen, you take the disease charmingly! Shall we go back to America to establish a new Eden?”

“On one condition, and that is—to take me in as equal partner.”

“My sweet sister!” cried Herbert ecstatically as he sprang from his chair and caught her around the waist. “Do you really mean it?”

“Truly; and, Herbert,” and with tears in the eyes upraised, to his she added brokenly, “if—if that little saint, Elsie, Alice Houghton writes me about, can be induced——”

“There!” Herbert’s face hardened as he placed his hand on his sister’s lips. “Say no more on that subject. I appreciate your generosity, but hope died long ago.”

Two days later they were on the ocean homeward bound, and with the zeal of new-born ambition were deep in their project almost before they returned the greeting of their friends. Some two weeks after their arrival the C—— Sunday Herald contained a notice of the purchase of a large tract of land in the northwestern part of the city, including the subdivision known as “Idlewild,” by Herbert Lynn, Esq., who proposed the erection of a mammoth shoe factory to be managed after a method which he had investigated abroad, and believed to be not only the safest investment for capital, but one yielding the largest returns from the standpoint of the philanthropist.