Thus he would find that Lowell, having rid herself of narrow-minded notions, having followed reverently in the footsteps of his illustrious Manchester, was a success indeed.
And Lynn too. She discovered thirty years ago the surprising swiftness of "teams," whereby six or eight men working in partnership, each one doing only one thing, say one a welt, and another a bottom, and another the eyelets, etc., could put a shoe through in one-eighth the time of the old "one-man" way. Millions of shoes were made, and shoes were cheap. Much money flowed in, and life was lovely at Lynn. But Paradise pales if too long continued. The sewing-machines came, and McKaye was a god—for the master. One man with his machine could do the work of twenty or forty men in the teams. Shoes were now amazingly cheap. The Crispins wept, the master laughed, and the making of shoes went merrily on. And what became of the Crispins? They struck! and then—they disappeared, vanished, went too "where the woodbine twineth." They too were not wanted. Let them get themselves out of the way! the Chinese are coming!
They got much consolation from a certain set of preachers, who assured them it was all right—"Laws of trade, you know," "cheap shoes good for the masses," "water will find its level," "the masses in Africa will now be able to wear shoes," "the best government is no government," "all one great brotherhood," "every man for himself and the devil take the hindmost."
Paradise was just beyond their noses, and it lay just here: "When things get very cheap every man will only work three hours a day. All men can play the rest of the time, or they can cultivate their minds!" "Beautiful! Beautiful! Hosannah to the highest!" was what every disbanded Crispin ought to have said; but, foolish man as he was, he kept saying, "My body is hungry, and I have no work, and I will steal some food—or become a broker! You had better look out."
But luckily the Southern war came, and it made places for a good many men, and the "Government" (not us men and women)—the Government paid the bills, and so we were tided over. And now we have got the bills, and we have got cheap labor too! And we are as near to "no government" as any people ever was except wild Indians; and that we know—for the doctrinaires say so—is Paradise. If it is not that, what in Heaven's name is it?
There was once a notion that the men who had knowledge, and experience, and strength, should think for and act for those who had not; in short, that those who were strong should protect and care for the weak. The father in some countries—not all—yet does pursue this plan; he is head and master of his household, and is expected to know how to act and what to do better than his boys and girls.
We have exploded that idea. Under this "best government upon which the sun ever shone," we have made discoveries. We find that children know what they want better than their fathers; that women are really stronger than men, have larger brains, more sense, more heart, and more purity; and that when women and children both vote (mistress Biddy too) the world will go right—for they—the pure, the honest—will "holler out gee!"
This old paternal or family government was a despotism, tempered with love, to be sure, but a despotism not to be tolerated in an enlightened age. Shovel it out, shovel it out!
It is a sad fact that children now, while wiser and purer than their fathers, are not physically quite so strong. But it is found that the pistol puts the holders upon a perfect equality, and that is the thing to be aimed at. The redress of the weak is therefore in the pistol, which I expect to see in every child's pocket soon. The tyrant man will then be degraded to his place. With women voting, and children holding pistols, men and fathers will be pulled down from the pedestal they have usurped so long.
We know that women have more virtue than men (?), and that children have more purity, and therefore, knowing well the "good, the true, and the beautiful," they must and shall govern the land. They shall be tyrannized no longer.