A lady and her husband

by Amber Reeves Blanco White

James had not known that there was such happiness. He could not speak. His eyes were dazzled by a vision of shining bottles, thousands of smooth glass bottles, crystal clear, through which gleamed splendidly the ruby, the topaz, the diamond, of their appetising contents. Above waved the flag of the greatest of nations, and the distant voices singing a glorious song broke off to acclaim him a captain of industry. His heart was full; for a moment he forgot his anxiety concerning the fate of a parent.

Old Henry, who had only paused for dramatic effect, felt no pain at this lack of piety. Let James rejoice, he went on, and not sadden his days by thinking about him. He had knocked about the world before now, and if a peaceful old age was denied him he would submit anew to the scourgings of fate. As a matter of fact—here his eye brightened—he had heard of a little affair in South America. There might be something in it or there might not. In any case no good would be served by talking about it now. If matters went well his boys would hear from him. If not—he hoped they would keep a warm corner in their hearts for the memory of their poor old father. And now James had better come along and see to the necessary papers, as he was sailing for Montevideo in a couple of days.

When next his boys did hear of him, two years later, he was lodged in a South American prison. James, who had long feared something of the sort, could only be thankful that it had happened in a romantic continent. None of Henry's family doubted that when Henry returned—if he ever did return—he would have some explanation compatible with the greatest physical courage and the loftiest qualities of heart and head. As a matter of fact when a letter arrived it contained the tale of a maiden in distress so beautiful, so tender, so virtuous, that only a scoundrel could have turned away from her piteous appeals.

Meanwhile James worked hard, for the captain of industry still dominated his dreams. But it was some time before he began to make more than a bare living. Even when he had to a certain extent surmounted his own inexperience he was faced by his partner's refusal to spend a penny on making the factory even decently clean, by the impossibility of keeping a good class of work-girl owing to the same old gentleman's roving eye, and by Clarkson's Ginger Cordial. This was the result of years of patient and muddled investigation on Matthew's part. He was not satisfied with it yet, he said, and meanwhile he was offended if he was not allowed to call the whole staff away from their work in order that they might conduct experiments with him. This was particularly troublesome because the coadjutor he most favoured was the forewoman, the only person in the place whose tongue was sharp enough to keep the girls in order. It was useless for James to explain that no business carried on in this way could have any chance of succeeding. Clarkson replied that it didn't matter a damn whether it succeeded or not until the Ginger Cordial was ready for the market. After that event it wouldn't be able to help succeeding. And further, he wasn't going to be preached at in his own factory by—young puppies.

That seemed an impregnable position, but Matthew's defences had one weak spot. The passing of the Employers' Liability Act revealed the fact that the senior partner was terrified of inspectors and of the fiendish things inspectors might do to him. He had no knowledge of the law, and only a vivid something in his past seemed adequate to account for his fear of it. Happily in this country we have, besides the clumsy and public efforts of our legislators, the subtle and intricate machinery of Home Office orders. One Julius Trent, a friend of James's, persuaded him to spend a few pounds at a costumier's and a few shillings at a printer's. After that one of Her Majesty's Factory Inspectors, in an imposing blue uniform, visited Mr. Clarkson several times a week. The old man withstood this onslaught for some time, but when the inspector arrived one day with a printed document which set forth that owing to information and complaints recently received regulations had been issued to the effect that those who were guilty of any breaches of the rules laid down for the safety and good government of the English people, and in particular of obstructing or using obscene or filthy language to Her Majesty's Factory Inspectors in the course of their duty, should in future be liable to imprisonment with hard labour without the option of a fine, the old man's courage failed. He undertook to allow the necessary cleaning, he promised to respect a salutary rule just made by the Home Secretary that no forewoman was on any account whatever to enter her employer's private room, he even gave up his laboratory because the same authority had found it inexpedient to permit experimental research into the composition of cordials to be carried on under one roof with the manufacture of mineral waters between the hours of 6 A.M. and 10 P.M. He retired routed to a shed at the bottom of his garden with no revenge but his votes, and the next thing to do was to buy him out before he discovered what had happened.

That took some time, partly because every penny James could spare was needed for repairs and improvements, partly because Mr. Clarkson, as soon as he found that James wished it, showed an obstinate reluctance to being bought out. The Home Secretary could not exclude him from his own premises altogether, and he still enjoyed an occasional ramble round. Finally James, who was growing more masterful, dismissed the forewoman. That was a blow, for her successor and her successor's underlings did not appreciate Mr. Clarkson's practised smiles. James found him one day examining himself rather sadly in a looking-glass.

The sight of James's reflected face suddenly mingled with an already unpleasing picture roused Mr. Clarkson. Hitherto, he said, he had borne with young Heyham's goings-on in a Christian spirit, but this was spying. Heyham seemed to think that he was cock of the walk, that he'd only got to say the word and every one would lick his boots; well, they wouldn't. And when he, Matt Clarkson, liked to be nasty he could be nasty. And no mistake about it.

Being nasty meant abusing James in front of the hands, jeering at him, or, what was worse, assuming in public that nothing delighted him more than to hear one of Mr. Clarkson's appalling anecdotes. Even the Home Secretary cannot forbid a Briton to make the jokes that please him. Nevertheless in his heart the old man was afraid. He did not attempt to control the business, and when he had made his partner really angry, he would say that he didn't mean anything by it, it was just his way.

Meanwhile James had arrived at a time of his life that he could discuss more fittingly with a wife on the sofa beside him than with a wife on a separate chair. Julius Trent, afterwards such a nuisance, then so charming, introduced his friend James to his parents, and old Mr. Trent took a fancy to the young man. Old Mr. Trent approved of young men who worked very hard and showed every intention of succeeding, and he had been amused by Julius's account of Mr. Clarkson and the factory inspector. He also enjoyed discussing books with James, for in those days James took an interest in political theory. He hadn't much time to think of these things himself, but there were plenty of men who had, and surely some day one of them would produce the simple, gentlemanly, inexpensive solution of social problems that would relieve an overworked business man of further anxiety.

Old Mr. Trent, like many people who have few chances of talking over the subjects that interest them, had invented two or three systems that would abolish bad times and make England prosperous for evermore. The trouble with most of them was that they involved a good deal of compulsion at the outset—before people had learned to appreciate their excellence—and Mr. Trent was against compulsion in any form. It was this that had made him give up his great Malthusian scheme of grading workmen according to their capacity and regulating their families in a corresponding manner. He still hoped that a more enlightened generation might adopt it of their own free will, and to this end he subscribed considerable sums to a Neo-Malthusian journal. But the plan to which he had finally devoted his declining years might perfectly well, if only the Government would leave off wasting their time, be put into effect at once. It consisted in taking a tenth of the capital of anybody who had got a sufficient quantity, buying gold with it, and depositing the gold in the vaults of the Bank of England. It would not be at all an oppressive measure, for the resulting prosperity and expansion of credit would far more than compensate everybody concerned. After only two or three years he was sure that no more compulsion would be necessary, for here you would be dealing, not with uneducated workmen, blind to their own interests, but with astute financiers and men of business. The only difficulty would be that other countries might get hold of the idea and refuse to sell gold. But let his hearers take heart, recent discoveries all went to show that there was a far greater quantity of gold in various parts of the planet—mostly, by the direct favour of God, British possessions—than one was apt to imagine. If James would glance at these geological maps....