CHAPTER VIII.

HOLDFAST'S SPEECH.

"I'VE got a few words to say to you to-night, lads. I'm a plain-spoken man, as you know, with no particular gift for speechifying; so you'll have to bear with me, if I blunder, and put things badly. I'm one of yourselves, and you'll just take my blundering kindly, and look beyond it to the root of the matter. It's as one of yourselves that I want to talk to you."

"There's been a lot said already, as to whether you should or shouldn't go on with the strike. Some are for one side, and some for the other. Well, I s'pose you all know pretty well which side I'm for. But maybe you don't all know so well what's my reasons, nor why I'm for that side."

"Now you needn't think I'm going to pretend to settle the whole question for you in a dozen words, and expect you all in a moment to follow what I say. That wouldn't be fair nor sensible. What I want to do is just to put the thing before you in a reasonable light."

"It seems to me that a deal of nonsense is talked, and a lot of mistakes are made, in these days, through men not looking on both sides of a question. You've heard the old story of the shield, and the two knights looking upon it. One said it was made of gold, and the other would have it was made of silver; and words ended in blows, and if I'm not mistaken, one wounded the other to death. At all events, it wasn't till after there'd been fighting, that somebody passing by showed them how the shield was gold on one side and silver on the other. So both were right and both were wrong; for it was gold, but it wasn't all gold; and it was silver, but it wasn't only silver: A little patience and common-sense were wanted there, weren't they?"

"Folks do much the same now. One is on the masters' side, and he says the shield is all gold. Another is on the men's side, and he says the shield, is all silver. Neither of 'em has the sense to walk round, and take a look on the other side."

"There's the masters' side of the question, the side of Capital. There's the men's side, the side of Labour. Each has its rights, and each depends upon the other. It's all very fine to talk of independence; but I tell you, men, you can't be independent. There's no man living who can stand alone, and do for himself without help from others. You're dependent on others for the food you eat, for the clothes you wear, for the houses you live in, for the tools you work with."

"Aye, and more than that; when you buy, you're among the capitalists. Others have worked for you, and you pay them for their labour. There's no such sharp division as many make out between capitalists and labouring-men. It's a question of degrees. The working-man spends less money, and works more with his hands; the capitalist spends more money, and works less with his hands. That's the distinction. But they're all members of one community, and each depends upon the other."

"To come back to the common view of the matter; the greater amount of capital is in the masters' hands no doubt, and power goes with money. Yet, if the masters couldn't get hands to work for them, much use would their wealth be to them. The men do the work, and power goes with labour too; but if there was no capital out of which their wages would come, they'd be badly off too."

"Fact is, there's power on both sides, and there's dependence on both sides. It's the few with capital to balance the many without capital. More truly, it's the few with large capital to balance the many with little capital."

"Now you mind one thing that I have to say. Capital is your friend, and not your enemy. Some among you are given to talking about the tyranny of capital. Well, I don't say capital is never tyrannical when it gets a chance, just as I don't say labour is never tyrannical when it gets a chance too. But the 'tyranny of labour' may be as true a phrase as the 'tyranny of capital;' and all the while, each is the friend of the other. Capital is the friend of labour, and labour is the friend of capital. Capital can't get along without labour, and labour can't get along without capital. A man 'll sometimes act tyrant to his own friend, if he gets a chance—when he's thinking too much about his own pocket."

"One thing's sure. If a man hurts his friend, he hurts himself too in the long run, whether he sees it or not. The masters can't do wrong to the men without injuring themselves, and the men can't wrong the masters without hurting themselves; for each depends on the other."

"I suppose it would be a happy thing if the two sides could come to an agreement as to their exact rights, and so put a stop to all disputes. But that's a thing more easy said than done; for the fact is, there's no one spot where you can say the rights of one side begin, and the rights of the other end. Or if there is such a spot, it's always moving."

"I'll tell you what—it's like what the children call a see-saw, you know. The masters with their capital are seated on one end of the board, and the men with their labour are seated on the other end. The plank is supported on a narrow edge, and the very least change in the quantity of gold at one end, or in the number of men at the other end, makes a re-adjustment needful to keep the balance."

"Nell, and the re-adjustment can't come about in a moment. If both parties keep quiet, the board 'll swing a little, and presently they'll see what the true balance is—whether the masters or the men weigh heaviest. But sometimes they won't wait. They fidget, and they get excited; and the plank swings harder, and maybe they end in an upset altogether, which puts off the settling for a good bit longer. I think we've had something of that sort lately."

"I'm inclined to believe that the upset don't make much difference in the long run. The plank 'll find its balance just the same, whether those at each end sit quiet or whether they don't. It may swing more or less; but nothing on earth can keep the heavier end from being lowest, nor the lighter end from being highest, when it does come to rest."

"Matters are something like that in the labour-market."

"You've had a lot of fine words said to you of late by Pope, which maybe some of you believe. He'd teach you to think that everything is in your own hands; that you only have to strike and strike again to get higher and higher wages, and that the masters all keep you wilfully down, and don't give you your dues."

"Well, I've had a good lot of spare time lately, and I thought I couldn't do better than read about these questions, and get up some information."

"I've one fact to give you, as a result of my reading. Facts are stubborn things you know; and I'm not sure as this isn't a specially stubborn fact. Any way, here it is. Whatever you and the masters do or don't do, and whether so be that you like it or not, labour, as a general rule and in the long run, is always paid at its worth."

"You don't see that, eh?"

"Well, I'll give you the key to it in a sentence I've read somewhere. 'Labour is dear when it is scarce, and cheap when it is plentiful.' Other things have their bearing on the question, I won't deny; but you'll always have to work back to this. When trade's prosperous, and the demand for labour grows, and the masters compete one against another for hands, then wages rise. But when the market is overstocked, and the demand for labour gets less, and the men compete one against another for work, instead of the masters competing for men, there's a change. Natural enough, those in need of work will take it at a lower rate, rather than go without; and down the wages run. It isn't a surer law that water finds its own level, than that wages do the same."

"But suppose now you won't let men take lower wages. Suppose, by the power of combination, you force the wages to keep at a higher level than they'd do naturally? That's possible sometimes, I don't deny; just as you can bank up a stream of water, and hinder it from flowing down."

"I'm not talking about the right or the wrong of such action, nor whether you've a right to restrain the freedom of others. That's for you and them to consider. But I'll tell you what must be the result of such action."

"By forcing up the wages, you make the fruits of your work more dear than elsewhere. Then other towns or other countries will compete against you, producing the same things more cheaply. Then the public will leave you, and buy elsewhere. Stands to reason, don't it, that folks turn to the cheapest market for their goods? If you men can buy a serviceable coat for a low price at one shop, you won't choose to pay a high price for the same at another shop. So, by getting higher wages than are really your due, you'll have driven away the trade from your neighbourhood, perhaps from your country; and masters and men will suffer alike."

"Maybe you'll say that if all working-men over the world joined into one great league, they could force up the wages everywhere alike. Well, I don't know as that's altogether an impossible state of things for a time. But mind you, it would be only for a time. It couldn't go on always. The produce of higher wages being too expensive for the condition of the times, people would buy less; or they'd find something else cheaper to use instead. I don't know as I'm making myself clear; but it's clear to myself what I mean."

"I can't tell what 'll be the outcome of the present strike. Maybe, if you go on long enough, the masters will give in, and you'll get your higher wage. Well, and if so be the state of the market allows it, all will go right. But if your doing so forces the masters to put a higher price on the produce of your work than is paid for it elsewhere, we shall be losers in the end. For trade will flow away from our town. Customers will go elsewhere."

"You'll tell me now that I'm arguing on the masters' side. But I'm not. It's the men's side I'm considering; and the trouble you'll all be in, if a time of slack trade comes."

"I want you all, as I've said before, to take a common-sense view of the matter. That's what some of your fine speechifiers don't help you to do. I dare say you'd like it better if I was to talk a lot about tyranny and oppression, and iron heels trampling you down, and such trash, and then was to butter you up for a set of noble chaps, the like of which never trod this earth before."

"You're used to that sort of thing, ain't you, now? But it's not in my line, nor never will be. You may be noble if you choose—all and any of you. I don't say you all are; any more than I'd go for to say that all the aristocracy or all the capitalists of the country are noble. Nobody's noble who lives to himself, and who's a slave to any manner of wrong-doing. But there's many a noble fellow among them; and I hope there's many a noble fellow among us too. Any way, I've a notion that your iron-heeled aristocracy would be the last to deny the fact. Only, whether you're noble or no, I do say you let your eyes be too easy blinded by a handful of dust."

"Now you just think quiet for a minute or two, about this notion of cheap and dear labour depending on whether it's plentiful or scarce."

"You all know that pearls and diamonds cost a lot more than bits of glass and wood. Why do they? Because they're valuable, you'll say. But why are they valuable? Because men want to have them? No, it's not that only. It's because they're scarce.

"Take the Kohinoor—the grandest diamond in England, belonging to Her Majesty. Three cheers for our noble Queen, lads!" John's hat went up, and the haggard men before him responded warmly. "That's it!" said John, well pleased. "Now about the Kohinoor. I'm afraid to say how much it is worth. But supposing that instead of one there was fifty such diamonds in the country. Would they all be worth as much? No, of course not. And suppose there was ten thousand—why, lots of people could buy them then, the price 'ud be so much lower. And suppose they were as common as pebbles in the road; why, then you'd be able to, pick them up like pebbles, you know, and not have to pay anything at all."

"So a thing is worth more or less, partly according to whether it's wanted, but mostly according to whether it's scarce or plentiful."

"That's how it is with labour. When there's much work to be done, and few men to do it, labour is dear because it's scarce. When there's little work to be done, and many men to do it, labour is cheap because it is plentiful. And when labour is cheap, no amount of strikes can make it worth more than it is worth, even though wages may be forced up unnaturally for a while."

"Would you go for to say," put in a voice, "that strikes are never on no account to be resorted to?"

"No, I don't say that," returned John. "It's natural and it's right that working-men should band together to protect their own interests; and maybe now and then a strike's the only method open to them. Any way, I do know it oughtn't to be a common thing. For in nine cases out of ten, lads, the loss is more than the gain. A strike is wise, only when affairs are in such a condition, that you all know on the very best authority—not only on Pope's authority—that a rise is your just due, and that there's no chance of your getting it for a long while save by a strike. That's a state of things that might be; and then if you liked to go in for a strike—well, it mightn't be altogether unreasonable."

"But a strike should be your last resort, not your first. If a rise in wages is really your due, I suppose it's sure to come sooner or later, from the pressure of competition, whether you strike or whether you don't. But if you're mistaken as to the state of things, and a rise is not your due—why a strike isn't like to do more than bring loss and disappointment; or even if it does force the wages up for a bit, that can't last, and things will be worse for your trade in the end."

"It 'ud be a good thing if masters and men would draw together, and be more friendly-like, and each listen to the other. For there's rights on both sides, and difficulties on both sides; and there's room on both sides for a kind and thoughtful spirit to be shown. It wouldn't do no harm to you, lads, if you was sometimes to put yourselves into the masters' place, and think how you'd act there. And I wish the masters would do the same for the men. Not as they don't sometimes, I'll be bound. There's masters and masters, just as there's men and men! I don't see as we ourselves have much to complain of. Mr. Bertie and Mr. Lovett have been good friends to us for many a year. It wasn't till Pope came to enlighten our ignorance, that we found out we was grovelling under the heels of two bloodthirsty tyrants."

"No, no; not so bad as that!" cried several voices.

"Hope not!" said John dryly. "Any way, my slavery don't fret me much. I've got along pretty comfortable, in spite of it—till these last weeks."

"I say," broke in a fresh voice, "that's all very fine, you know, what you've been saying; and I don't say there's no truth in it. But I'd like to know one thing, and that is, why working-men are paid at a higher rate in other countries than in England?"

"And perhaps, if I answer that, you'll tell me why workmen are paid at a lower rate in other countries than in England," said John.

"Look at America," was the answer.

"And look at France—look at Germany—look at Holland. It comes in both cases from the same reason. Labour is more scarce in one place than in another; or, capital is more plentiful. Either way the wages must rise."

"Twelve to eighteen shillings a day, as I've heard say Englishmen could make awhile back in a place called Lima," chimed in somebody else.

"Maybe so," John answered. "And if you want to make that amount, you'd best go there—supposing it's the same still. Only take care too many of you don't go; for as sure as labour gets more plentiful, the wages will run down."

"When you think of the lower rate of wages paid to workmen on the Continent, you'll no doubt say that the advantage on our side is all owing to Trades, Unions and strikes. But it's nothing of the sort. Trades Unions, property managed, are all very well in their way; and a strike at the right time may be a good thing in its way. But Trades Unions and strikes can't force wages up to a higher level and keep them there, when the state of the labour-market don't allow it."

"There's trades in England, with powerful Unions, which haven't made any advance in wages during years past. There are trades on the Continent, with no Unions at all to push for them, which have just gone on with the tide; and the workmen have gained twenty or thirty per cent. on their wages."

"I've spoken longer than I meant when I began; and now it's about time I should stop. A word more, first. You'll tell me, perhaps, that many a strike isn't for higher wages, but for shorter hours. So it is. English workmen are growing mighty careful of themselves nowadays, and afraid of work. But the rise is the same either way. It's a rise if you get better pay for ten hours' work than before; and it's a rise if you keep ten hours' pay for nine hours' work."

"Yes; and it's the same thing in another way. The cost of production is greater, whichever sort of rise you get; and that means a higher price for the thing sold; and that means, sometimes, driving away the trade to some other place. A lot of trade has drifted away from England to foreign countries, of late years—and why? Just because the shorter hours and higher wages of English workmen mean higher prices for the produce of their work—and people won't pay higher prices when they can get as good for lower. Would you? No, of course you wouldn't!"

"You've borne patiently with me, and I mustn't tax you further, though there's plenty more I could say yet. But I do want you just to think over these matters for yourselves, and not be led away by fine talk which hasn't sense in it. And while you're thinking, you just remember the wives and children at home. What's best for them?"

Holdfast sat down without another word, and not without his meed of applause.

But though he was heard patiently throughout, and though he had dropped some seeds which might perchance take root, yet those present were few in number compared with the many out on strike; and those few had not force of character or vigour of will to speak out and to act for themselves.

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