Minola began to be full of pity for the poor poet, between whom and possible fame there stood so hard and prosaic a barrier. She was touched by the proud humility of his confession of ambition and poverty. Three sudden questions flashed through her mind. "I wonder how much it would cost? and have I money enough? and would it be possible to get him to take it?"
Her color was positively heightening, and her breath becoming checked by the boldness of these thoughts, when suddenly there was a rushing and rustling of silken skirts, and Lucy Money, disengaging herself from a man's arm, swooped upon her.
"You darlingest, dear Nola, where have you been all the night? I have been hunting for you everywhere! Oh—Mr. Blanchet! I haven't seen you before either. Have you two been wandering about together all the evening?"
Looking up, Minola saw that it was Mr. Victor Heron who had been with Lucy Money, and that he was now waiting with a smile of genial friendliness to be recognized by Miss Grey. It must be owned that Minola felt a little embarrassed, and would rather—though she could not possibly tell why—not have been found deep in confidential talk with Herbert Blanchet.
She gave Mr. Heron her hand, and told him—which was now the truth—that she was glad to see him.
"Hadn't we better go and find Mary?" Blanchet said, rising and glancing slightly at Heron. "She will be expecting us."
"No, please don't take Miss Grey away just yet," Victor said, addressing himself straightway, and with eyes of unutterable cordiality and good-fellowship, to the poet. "I haven't spoken a word to her yet; and I have to go away soon."
"I'll go with you to your sister, Mr. Blanchet," said Lucy, taking his arm forthwith. "I haven't seen her all the evening, and I want to talk to her very much."
So Lucy swept away on Mr. Blanchet's arm, looking very fair, andpetite, and pretty, as she held a bundle of her draperies in one hand, and glanced back, smiling and nodding, out of sheer good-nature, at Minola.
Victor Heron sat down by Minola, and at once plunged into earnest talk.
TRIED AND TRUE.
Yearafter year we'll gather here,And pass the night in merry cheer.Through storm and war, o'er sea and land,We'll come each year to Neckar's strand:In war and storm, on land and sea,To this our pledge we'll faithful be,And each to all be true.So sang three students one March night—.Without the storm wind blew,.Within were wine and warmth and light.And three hearts brave and true."To-morrow morn we all go hence,"Said Wilhelm, speaking low."For Emil fights for Fatherland,Franz o'er the sea doth go,."And I in Berlin, with my books,Will lead a scholar's life—In toil, and war, and foreign land,We thus begin the strife.".Three glasses then with Rhineland wineUnto the brim were filled,And to the sacred parting pledgeEach heart responsive thrilled..Three years went by, and so the friendsUnto their faith were true,And spent the night in merry songAnd lived the past year through..When came the fourth reunion nightWithout the March wind blew,Within were wine, and warmth, and light,And one heart brave and true..For Emil died for Fatherland,And Franz went down at sea—In war and storm, in life and death,They said they'd faithful be:.And so Wilhem three glasses filled.Of one he kissed the edge;Two shadow hands the others raised—The friends had kept their pledge!.
Yearafter year we'll gather here,And pass the night in merry cheer.Through storm and war, o'er sea and land,We'll come each year to Neckar's strand:In war and storm, on land and sea,To this our pledge we'll faithful be,And each to all be true.
Yearafter year we'll gather here,
And pass the night in merry cheer.
Through storm and war, o'er sea and land,
We'll come each year to Neckar's strand:
In war and storm, on land and sea,
To this our pledge we'll faithful be,
And each to all be true.
So sang three students one March night—.Without the storm wind blew,.Within were wine and warmth and light.And three hearts brave and true.
So sang three students one March night—.
Without the storm wind blew,.
Within were wine and warmth and light.
And three hearts brave and true.
"To-morrow morn we all go hence,"Said Wilhelm, speaking low."For Emil fights for Fatherland,Franz o'er the sea doth go,.
"To-morrow morn we all go hence,"
Said Wilhelm, speaking low.
"For Emil fights for Fatherland,
Franz o'er the sea doth go,.
"And I in Berlin, with my books,Will lead a scholar's life—In toil, and war, and foreign land,We thus begin the strife.".
"And I in Berlin, with my books,
Will lead a scholar's life—
In toil, and war, and foreign land,
We thus begin the strife.".
Three glasses then with Rhineland wineUnto the brim were filled,And to the sacred parting pledgeEach heart responsive thrilled..
Three glasses then with Rhineland wine
Unto the brim were filled,
And to the sacred parting pledge
Each heart responsive thrilled..
Three years went by, and so the friendsUnto their faith were true,And spent the night in merry songAnd lived the past year through..
Three years went by, and so the friends
Unto their faith were true,
And spent the night in merry song
And lived the past year through..
When came the fourth reunion nightWithout the March wind blew,Within were wine, and warmth, and light,And one heart brave and true..
When came the fourth reunion night
Without the March wind blew,
Within were wine, and warmth, and light,
And one heart brave and true..
For Emil died for Fatherland,And Franz went down at sea—In war and storm, in life and death,They said they'd faithful be:.
For Emil died for Fatherland,
And Franz went down at sea—
In war and storm, in life and death,
They said they'd faithful be:.
And so Wilhem three glasses filled.Of one he kissed the edge;Two shadow hands the others raised—The friends had kept their pledge!.
And so Wilhem three glasses filled.
Of one he kissed the edge;
Two shadow hands the others raised—
The friends had kept their pledge!.
Sylvester Baxter.
ABOUT CIGARETTES.
Tenor fifteen years ago we rarely saw cigarettes in this country, their use being confined to the few natives who had acquired the habit during a residence abroad, and to foreigners, French, Italian, and Cuban settlers, who followed the practices of their youth. So slight was the general demand that, excepting in the large cities, cigarettes were rarely found for sale. To-day there are probably few small towns in the thickly settled portions of the country where cigarettes are not readily obtained; while in the large cities the stores vie with each other in giving us varied assortments of leading brands. Indeed, recent statistics state that nearly thirty per cent. of the entire smoking tobacco consumed in the United States is in this form. Cigarettes are now imported from all portions of Europe, but principally from France. Several factories have of late years been started in our own country, but the cigarettepar excellenceis made in Havana. Nowhere else do we find capital so largely invested, labor so diversified, or such attention to details. There certainly you can take your choice—Honoradez, Havana, Astrea, Cherito, Henriquez, and dozens of others of lesser note.
The tobacco used in the making of the Havana cigarettes is bought from the cigar factors, but only from those who have the most assured reputation. It consists of the leaves left from the making of cigars. The necessity of securing the best grades of tobacco cannot be overestimated. The judgment of the cigarette smoker is formed solely from the sense of taste. He is totally unaffected by sight, which in the cigar enables a clever workman to so roll bad tobacco that we are predisposed in favor of an inferior article. While absolute inferiority is intolerable in either, mediocrity, in Cuba at all events, is much more readily tolerated in the cigar than in the cigarette.
The tobacco for the cigarette is not, as is generally supposed with us, raised on the plantations of the various leading cigar factors. "Bartegas," "Cobania," "Upman," or whatever be the name of our favorite brand, does not depend for its success upon any one plantation. The practice on the part of the leading houses is to send their purchasing agents into the tobacco district as soon as the crop begins to ripen. Sales are then and there arranged, immense sums sometimes being offered in advance, by way of retainer, for a specially likely plantation. The Vuelto Abago district is the favorite one, the planters there holding a position not unlike that occupied by the proprietors of the "Sea Island" plantations in days when "cotton was king." The ability to control the market so as to bring to their own manufactories the choicest tobacco is the main secret of the success of the larger houses, not, as is frequently supposed, any particular superiority in the workmen.
The principal cigarette factory is, as is well known, the factory of M. Susini, "La Honoradez," "Honoradez" signifying in Spanish, honesty, the motto of the house. It consists of a series of irregular buildings, covering an area in space about equal to that occupied by the usual Broadway block. On the upper floor of the principal building we find a lot of tobacco, which has just arrived, and is being prepared for inspection; the first requisite being to remove from it any leaves that are either dead or in any way injured. The tobacco lays loosely scattered over an immense wooden tray, which is kept continually moving, by means of machinery, from one end of a table to the other. Around this table are seated some twelve or fourteen Cuban workmen, all good judges of tobacco. Each one throws aside such leaves as he deems unfit for use, while the slow but yet continual motion given to the tray brings each imperfection successively before the eyes of all. The next step is to free the tobacco from any particles of sand or earth that may adhere to it. This is done by moving the tray by machinery, until it is over a large bin, into which the tobacco is allowed to fall, being subjected in its passage to a powerful current of air induced by means of an immense fan, likewise worked by machinery. One step more, and a very simple one—that of drying—and the tobacco is ready for a change of form. The tobacco is dried by simply exposing it on the roof, for a few hours, to the heat of the sun. For cigarettes it can scarcely be too dry, or for cigars too damp. A Cuban would not think of smoking other than a damp cigar. In the factories one sees the workmen smoking cigars they have just rolled, and no native could understand why one should smoke dry cigars in which so much of the natural flavor has been lost.
Thus far the process has been entirely one of cleansing or of freeing from impurities. The next step is that of cutting the leaves into fine particles in order to adapt the tobacco for cigarettes. The scattered leaves are first collected and subjected to powerful hydraulic pressure, from which they come out looking for all the world like a pile of snuff-colored brick. The moulded tobacco next goes to the cutting machine, falling from thence into a sieve, the meshes of which pass only such pieces as have been reduced to the proper size. The remainder is passed into a hopper, and thence goes for a second cutting. One step more, and the tobacco will be issued to the "rollers." Some half a dozen Chinese enter the room, each carrying with him a small vessel containing an aromatic liquid, with which the loose tobacco is carefully sprinkled. The preparation of this liquid is not known. It is doubtless the desire to keep it secret that leads to the preference of Chinese over native labor.
Before following the tobacco furher, let us look at the remaining portion of the cigarette, the wrapper. The original envelope for the tobacco was doubtless composed of leaves, the followers of Columbus carrying back to Spain accounts of the strange custom existing among the natives of San Salvador, the smoking of tobacco wrapped in the leaves of the palm, which was doubtless the primitive cigarette. In France to this day new straws are much used, but generally paper has become the popular envelope. This paper must be specially manufactured. Most of it comes from Barcelona, where the making of cigarette paper constitutes an important industry. All of that used at the "Honoradez" factory, after inspection, is carefully stamped with the name "Susini." By unrolling any of this brand of cigarettes this mark can be readily seen, and serves as the readiest means of detecting counterfeits. A portion of the paper is sprinkled with various preparations to give to it the flavor of tea, licorice, or such other taste as may suit certain consumers. This explains the variation in the color of the wrapper, which is sometimes straw-color, sometimes brown, but more usually white, the latter color distinguishing the paper which has not been artificially flavored. In the cutting machine the paper is rapidly converted into the proper size for envelopes, while another machine close at hand is turning out little bits of pasteboard for such of the cigarettes as are to be made with a mouthpiece.
Both tobacco and paper are now ready to be given out to the "rollers." Let us go down and watch them as they come pouring in. Both sexes and all ages have representations here. Each one awaits his turn, and then receives, after it has been carefully weighed, his or her allowance of tobacco, some five thousand papers, and a large wooden hoop. The hoop serves as a rude but very accurate gauge, its circumference being of such a size as to properly encompass five thousand cigarettes of such size as will contain the entire amount of tobacco issued. A slight excess of both tobacco and paper, say sufficient to make forty or fifty cigarettes, is usually given, intended for the personal consumption of the employee. When their work is completed and returned to the factory, they receive in exchange therefor a small copper check payable on demand. So common are these checks in Havana that a few years since—possibly it may be so still—they were constantly given to one at the various stores, and were commonly received as current coin.
Physically the cigar and cigarette makers are a sorry lot. The continual odor of tobacco, their constant labor, with bodies bent over tables, calling into play no muscle, no exertion, indeed, whatever, excepting the exercise of their fingers—this cannot fail to have its effect. The cigarette makers are injured, too, by the inhalation of an almost invisible dust arising from the small particles of tobacco. The compensation received appears very small. Four or five cigarettes a minute is accounted good work, and even at this rate two days' steady labor is required to fill a hoop, for which they receive less than two dollars.
The larger number of cigarettes manufactured at Havana are made by machinery which is exceedingly ingenious, and has proved thoroughly successful. The cigarettes made by machinery are not only more tightly wrapped, but also manufactured at a much reduced cost. Each machine is capable of making thirty cigarettes per minute, 1,800 per hour, or 43,200 per day, thus replacing the labor of fourteen men, presuming them to be capable of working ten hours per day. For such persons as prefer making their own cigarettes, pressed packages of tobacco, with little paper books containing the envelopes, are sold. The tobacco is so neatly put up that were it not for the accompanying book, one would almost fancy it to be a package of the most delicate French chocolate. As illustration of the consumption of cigarettes it may be of interest to state that three million cigarettes are made in the Honoradez factory each year, while it is estimated that in their manufacture over six million dollars is annually expended in the city of Havana alone. The Cuban, indeed, is much more of a cigarette than a cigar smoker; the cigarette is his constant companion. Even after dinner the cigarette seems to be preferred. I remember once, at a very charming dinner party, being quite astonished—for it was shortly after my arrival in Havana—to find myself and the host the only cigar smokers. The rest of our number, some six or seven, all Cubans, took to their accustomed cigarette with a unanimity which has always led me to believe that my good host himself felt called upon by his sense of politeness to do violence to his own preference.
In connection with the manufacture of cigarettes, nothing strikes one with more astonishment than the many industries which form accessories to a factory. The printing and lithographic work, a large quantity of which is required for the paper bundles or tasteful pasteboard boxes in which the various packages are put up, is all done by the employees, and even a photograph gallery is at hand for such persons as may desire their own likeness to accompany each package. So cleverly is all this work executed, that until very recently the bank notes and lottery tickets, both of which are largely circulated, were here printed. Rather odd to our American ideas, it must be confessed, is the spectacle of bank notes and lottery tickets being printed side by side—that too in a cigarette factory.
Boxes of tin, of wood, of all shapes and sizes, as well as kegs for exportation to distant points, are made within these same walls, where moulders, machinists, blacksmiths, tinmen, printers, lithographers, engravers, painters, and carpenters, are all furnished with work. Two hundred out of the twenty-five hundred employees are Chinese, and for them is provided a separate dormitory, kitchen, and even bathrooms.
THE HARD TIMES.
WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH OUR CHEAP LABOR?
"Wanted.—
Work for a thousand starving Immigrants!"
Suchis our advertisement.Cheap labor!that is the boon our "society" seeks. We wish to "develop our resources"; and as rapidly as possible, for in that lies all blessedness—real "sweetness and light."
Has not this delightful gospel been preached to us from pulpit and forum now full fifty good years, and does any one doubt its divine origin? Yes; I fear there is now and then to be found one of those antiquated infidels who scorns our "cheap cotton" and holds fast to manhood; who sniffs at our great new factory and says, "Give me aman!"
It is some two years ago that one of these benighted men told me—I pity him—he told me he had been into our beautiful Berkshire county to enjoy the delicious air and the delightful mountains. He went to North Adams, which lies so calm and basks so peacefully in the embraces of its sheltering hills. He said that when the noonday bell clanged out, a living torrent of men and women, boys and girls, poured forth from one of the gorgeous temples which have been there raised for the worship of the new god. In that temple were created cheap shoes. He said these men and women, boys and girls, were haggard, old, squalid, dirty; they showed traces—so it seemed to his jaundiced eyes—of drink, hopelessness, lechery, and vileness. He asked who they were. He was told—and they said it with glee—
"That is our cheap labor!"
And where does it come from—from the homes of New England? Oh, no! From Ireland, from Germany, from Portugal, from China, from Canadian-Acadie, that pastoral spot of which poets sing!
"Vileness, filth, baseness!" he said. "My God, has Berkshire come to this!"
It was a very foolish thing to say, and his calling upon his antiquated God was not only foolish, but useless. His God is not the God now.
He took a ride through the winding roads and wooded hills of that delightful land. His driver proposed to take him round by the "Limestone brook" to show him the new factory.
"And what do they make there?"
"Why, didn't you know? They are grinding up the white limestone, and they send away tons and tons on't every day."
"And what is it used for?"
"Used for? It's used for mixin'. They make three grades: the sody grade, and the flour grade, and the sugar grade."
"The deuce they do!"—that was a foolish exclamation. "Do you mean that they use this to mix with flour and sugar?"
The man laughed pityingly. "Of course they do. It makes 'em healthier. Flour and sugar is healthier and goes further with a little of this 'ere limestone dust mixed in—you see. It's cheaper too. This stuff is sold for fifty cents a hundred, and flour, you know, costs six dollars a hundred. Don't you see?"
The benighted infidel did see, and he indulged in some internal ejaculations; but he fled from the simple and sincere hills of Berkshire, and sought a solace in the coarse vulgarity and vice of Boston.
But I am neglecting to say what oursocietyproposes to do; and when I have told youof coursewe shall expect you to subscribe.
"The Cheap Labor Society" proposes to introduce from Africa and China, in batches of one thousand each, as rapidly as possible, able-bodied men who will work cheap.
"Todevelop the resources" of the country is the end and aim of all honorable men. In other words, we want cheap men so that we may make cheap shoes, cheap hats, cheap mutton, and—cheap women.
We who are now here—wedo not wish to work at all. Work is acurse. The Bible has said so, and every noble-minded man has said so, and the clergy has said so, and we know it is and must be so. But yet there are people existing in the depths of Africa and China who it is believed will work rather than starve; and these we propose to bring as rapidly as our means will permit.
We head our appeal, as you see, "Work wanted for a thousand starving men," because we know that we can get more work out of men who are just on the edge of starvation than from any other, and in that way we shall "develop our resources" most effectively and rapidly.
It is quite true that we already produce more cotton cloth and more boots and shoes than we can possibly sell; but we know—for have we not political economy to teach us?—that when we get them cheap enough, say to one-half their present starvation prices—every man, and every woman, and every child will wear two shirts, and two hats, and two pairs of shoes; and thus we shall have in a superior way that blessedness of which poets write—the making "two blades of grass grow where one grew before." Now, I ask any liberal-minded man if "two pairs of shoes in place of one" is not higher and nobler than two blades of grass? That goes without talking.
If work be indeed the curse of curses, why, let the sons of Ham (Africa) and the sons of Shem (Asia) do it; for it is well known they are accursed, and have been since the days of "good old Noah"; besides which, having colored skins, we know just how to mark the helots; can import them as fast as needed; can put all labor upon them, and can thus keep our own Japhetic skins and hands clean and white.
Deferring to a not wholly extinct public opinion, which is now and then announced by some orator to some small schoolboys, in words like these,Labore est honore, and in the vernacular, "Labor is honorable," I am compelled to deny it clearly and distinctly. Almost all know it, but it may be best to say to those who do not:
If labor is honorable, why does every man refuse to hoe in his garden, to make his fire, to raise his food? Why does every woman refuse to cook her food, to make her clothes, to take care of her children? Why do every father and every mother take special pains to so bring up and educate their children that they can do no sort of hand work? Why is it that high schools, and academies, and colleges are held as the most majestic of blessings, except that they are intended to wholly unfit boys and girls for thenecessary work of life?
Why is it that those who do no work are always called "upper classes," and those who do much work are called "the masses," unless it is so? Being so, let us agree to import "the masses" as rapidly as we can.
Permit me to here lay down another corner-stone: As cheapness is a boon, of course cheap labor is a boon; if labor, even at a dollar a day, is a blessing, it follows that labor at half a dollar a day is a greater blessing; and if we can only get it to a quarter of a dollar a day, will not mankind be four times as happy as when it is at a dollar a day? And then, oh blessed time! When we get it down to one cent a day shall we not be standing just in the portals of Paradise?
Let all men take heart, for we approach that time. I learned last summer, in the lovely State of Connecticut, that the Messrs. Sprague were hiring able-bodied men to work eleven hours a day, sometimes in water and mud, at rebuilding their great Baltic dam, for eighty-three cents a day, and that thousands more were ready to rush in. I may recall to mind the dark ages, when ignorance prevailed, and men boasted of a land (if there was one) where
All the men were brave and all the women virtuous.
All the men were brave and all the women virtuous.
Allof that kind! Then there could have been no cheap labor, and the boon which we now know to be the greatest vouchsafed to man could not be enjoyed. There have been times when strong, honest men and strong, honest (and permit me to say clean) women were thought to be the fruition of a perfect and Christian civilization—when cheap cotton was not thought to be the "one thing needful."
The good King Henri of Navarre is said to have hoped for the day when in France the poorest peasant might have a fowl in his pot.
Besotted king! he did not know that in the good time coming, when we shall bring in our one to ten thousand cheap Chinese per week, the white man will be happy indeed who can get a pound of rice or potatoes in his pot. A fowl in his pot! Foolish king!
"Progress"—what a lovely word!—progress has shown all mankind what a glorious thing cheap labor is and must be. How great and happy are the people who preach and practise it! "Progress"—a beautiful word certainly, if we do really understand it. But I remember me of a man—a brewer—who rather late in life had fallen in love with the word "docile." He thought it a beautiful word. One day his partner returned, having failed to collect a doubtful debt. My friend essayed it, but returned red in the face.
"Well," said his partner, "have you got it?"
"Got it! The fellow won't do a thing. He's asdocileas hell!"
Progress!Its meaning once was,
"Intellectual or moral advancement; improvement in knowledge or in virtue."
Now it meanscheap cotton and cheap men and women. To the enlightened and prosperous English nation belongs the credit of this radical discovery.
To England too belongs the invention or creation of our new god. She—I am happy to say it—she invented and created the god we now worship. We call him
Trade!
The first, last, and only commandment of our new god is,
"Buy cheap and sell dear."
Whatever nation or man worships this god, and obeys this first and great commandment, is sure of blessedness; for that man or that nation will get more money than other men and other nations, as England has; and will be happy,as she is!
Swiftly and surely the belief and worship of the new god and the new gospel is spreading into all lands. Menfancythey still worship "the Trinity," "Confucius," "Zoroaster," "Mohammed," "Mumbo-jumbo." It is wholly a fancy. Men stillsay, "I believe in God the Father," etc. They still say, "Do to others as you would have them do to you," is the first and great commandment. But what theydodo, and wish to do, and mean to do, is,
"To buy cheap and sell dear."
We need no missionaries to drive this gospel into heathen minds. It has the charming vitalizing power of going itself. The Chinese have received it, and have immediately taken the whole tea business out of the hands of Messrs. Russell & Co. and Jardine, Matheson & Co.; have quite put an extinguisher upontheirmoney-making. Indeed, do we not know thatalmostevery European, Chinese, and Indian merchant has failed, and the heathen Chinee sits in their seats.
How England came to invent this new gospel is known to many, though not to all. Let me briefly sketch the amazing creation:
A century ago the strength and power of England was based upon her yeomanry. They possessed much land; and upon the lovely rolling fields of that lovely country their stone farm-houses and their small farms were the homes and habitations of millions. From this strong and hardy yeomanry were drawn the bowmen and the pike-men who made the armies of the Edwards and the Henrys invincible; from them came the "jolly tars" who seized victory for Drake and Nelson.
Then Liverpool was not, and Manchester was not, andcreationdid not pay tribute to England's god.
But a century ago Watt, the keen, canny Scotsman, discovered thatsteamwas a giant, and could he but capture him and harness him into his machine, what work might he not do? He did capture him, and he did harness him to his machine; and now he works on, on, up, down, here, there, not ceasing by night and day, by summer and winter; he tires not, he rests not; for ever and for ever he toils on. He saws, he grinds, he spins, he weaves, he ploughs, he thrashes, he drags, he lifts. Such a giant he is!
Oneman with the steam machine now does the work which once was done byten,twenty,fifty! He files, he cuts, he sews, he polishes, he brews, he bakes, he washes, he irons. Is all this nothing?
It is vast—it is arevolution! And no man yet sees the end.
Trade now was exaggerated beyond all former measure, and henceforth was to be the god of England and of the world. "Let us produce, let us buy cheap and sell dear, and so we shall be blessed." England had coal deep down in her bowels. Let her send her sons by thousands into the slime and darkness to dig it out. Let her make steam, and cheap cotton, and infinite iron, and let her make all mankind buy of her. "Let us," she cried, "demand free trade! forwecan make cheap and sell dear, and none can rival us."
She did demand free trade. She demanded it in India by seizing a kingdom. She demanded it in China at the cannon's mouth. She got it.
She said to all peoples, "You may make corn, and cotton, and wool for us, and we will make everything you want cheaper than you can make it for yourselves, and happy you will be. We will make all the ships, will bring your corn, and cotton, and wool to us, and we will carry all our lovely manufactures to you, to the uttermost ends of the earth—atyourcost. We will take toll of you both ways; we will make fair profit onyourcotton, and onourmanufactures, and that will be just and even, and we shall both be happy."
And so it has gone on for a hundred years, and gold has poured into England's stomach, a flowing stream, until her eyes stick out with fatness; she has even sought Turkish bonds for investment, and has lent much money to the good Khedive of Egypt—which she can't get back!
Let us look at England for a moment, as she is to-day. She has built magnificent temples dedicated to her great god all over England: at Birmingham and Manchester, at Glasgow and Paisley; at Birkenhead and Liverpool, at Preston and Salford, at Leeds and Nottingham—and where not? England has become a great workshop in which the god of trade is ministered to.
Her land? Yes, it is beautiful, but heryeoman have disappeared—all have been drawn into the maw of the manufacturing monster. Forty millions of people now has England, and only some seven per cent. of them raise the food they eat. And how do the rest get their food? It is quite simple: by selling to other nations the things they make, and bringing back the food which other nations make.
It has been the boast of England that she had a larger population to the square mile—389 human bodies—than any other land except one, and more great cities than any other land but the "far Cathay"—if even she be an exception.
That "inspired idiot" Goldsmith once sang in his pretty, sentimental way,
Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey,Where wealth accumulates and men decay:Princes and lords may flourish or may fade;A breath can make them as a breath has made:But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey,Where wealth accumulates and men decay:Princes and lords may flourish or may fade;A breath can make them as a breath has made:But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey,Where wealth accumulates and men decay:Princes and lords may flourish or may fade;A breath can make them as a breath has made:But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates and men decay:
Princes and lords may flourish or may fade;
A breath can make them as a breath has made:
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
"Bold peasantry," "stalwart yeomen," "hard-handed farmers"—what preposterous phrases these seem now when we have the immense advantages of "cheap labor"!
And we here in America—we too? But of us, anon, anon.
Great factories, great halls, great shops, abound—abound and magnify that English land, so that a glamour has come over mankind, and moon-faced idiots in all lands have cried, "Behold the glory of England. Let us do likewise." Those great cities have glorified themselves and have glorified England, and who has cared to look deeper down into the mire? Have we seen these men and women, childhood and age, reeking in squalor and vile with filth in the purlieus of every temple? Have we looked into the slums of Liverpool and Glasgow, of Edinburgh and Newcastle, to see men and women, childhood and age, in all their divinity—or their damnation? Is all lovely—is it indeed? Is this "progress"? Is it civilization? Is it Christianity? Of course it is, all three.
I have mentioned the wordrevolution—social revolution. What is it? Is it at hand? It is quite clear that this amazing power of steam and machinery is doingsomething. It is quite clear that every machine does the work of twenty men, and nineteen of these have got to seek other means of support—they and their wives and their little ones.
It is well known that every man out of work means four mouths bare of food. Who fills them? The rates (taxes) of course, and in London, the last winter I was there, some six years ago, 80,000 paupers and beggars were receiving public aid. "The laws of trade" is to make things right. I think that is the name of the modern redeemer of men. If work is not there and food is not there, man will flow at his own sweet will, like water seeking its level, until he finds his food and his work somewhere. But if man's "sweet will" decides not to flow, but to lie down and make his bed in yourpockets, and feed on the contents in the shape of taxes—what is to come then? Why, he must be depleted, or he will depleteyou. How to deplete him is a most interesting question? He does not deplete himself, for it is manifest to men that paupers in England and America get children as fast as they can; and the clergy applaud and say, "Be fruitful and multiply." There is no continence among them—none anywhere except in wicked France.
In the "good time coming" in England, the pauper will lie down with the prince, and there will be peace while the pauper devours the prince; or there will be pestilence, which is a sure depleter; or the idle army may be used to deplete the mob. Who can say?
"But there is no danger! Of course not. Why croak?"
What has been will be, under the benign influence of cheap labor and free trade—perhaps! Let me go on with my pleasant tale—do not interrupt—I have the word—by and by you.
At this moment, to-day, this year of our Lord 1877, the merchant princes of London, the manufacturing barons of Manchester are at their wits' ends; for people refuse to buy the products of their mills. Germany will not have them, and France will not, and America chooses to make her own; and even India, ungrateful that she is, has gone to spinning her own cotton. Mills are being closed in England, furnaces are blown out, wages are reduced, and workmen are threatening tostrike, or have struck, and are settling down for a comfortable winter upon therates. All right! England has "developed her resources," and trade is free. Let her sing hosannahs, and cry, "Glory be to our god," for no such beautiful "progress" was ever seen on earth before.
What is to happen to the 300,000 or half million land-owners of England, if outside pig-headed peoples wilfully and maliciously refuse to buy the mill products of England and so to feed the 37,200,000 people of England who have no land upon which to raise their own food? What is to happen if some fine day the 37,200,000 take it into their foolish heads to say:
"We do not like to starve. We are many, you are few. We will take the land and raise our own food, and you can emigrate if you like, or you can stand out in the cold as we have done. We don't like it."
It is not quite easy to shoot those people; and if they choose to stay in England, it is not quite easy tomakethem emigrate—not even if the "laws of trade" tell them they really ought to go.
And besides, it is so easy for 100,000 paupers to emigrate—to take their wives and their children, their flocks and their herds, their camels and their asses, their beds and their tents, and go forth to seek the promised land—the land flowing with milk and honey. It is so simple, so pleasant, that one is lost in amazement that they do not go—that they wickedly persist in staying where they are paupers, and refuse to obey the law of "supply and demand."
Such conduct is quite unworthy of enlightened Britons who "never will be slaves."
It is too bad—it really is—and political economy ought to be preached at them severely. Why is it too that outside barbarians refuse to buy the divine productions of England? Some think we may do well to take a look at this part of the problem beforewego on with our plans for introducing more cheap labor into our own happy land.
A century ago, as has been said, England discovered the wonderful way of applying thesteam giantto the creation of manufactured goods, and for three-quarters of the century she has had a practical monopoly; has turned the golden streams of the whole world to enrich herself; has preached free trade; has said, "Buy cheap and sell dear," and has set her god on a high throne. But slowly and haltingly other and stupider nations have caught the tricks of the new Cultus; have caught little steam giants, and have set them to work to turn their mills and grind their grists. Germany and the United States are two of these dull nations who have done a stroke of work in this way. France has really been too stupid to do much at it—has indeed gone back to a tariff after having tasted of the new gospel, and now obstinately refuses to live by it—willpay her debts, and willnotenjoy unlimited pauperism.
Germany has, however, done well. She now makes woollens, cottons, linens, irons, steels, penknives, and Bibles quite as cheap as England, and, as some say (one of her own Centennial Commission), "cheaper and nastier." Nowhertraders are ubiquitous; they go, with the wandering Jew, the fascinating Englishman, the penetrating Yankee, into all heathen lands, carrying everywhere the new gospel of trade, and introducing to youthful minds the civilizing influences of lager beer and free lunches. Aided by the persuasive tones of the patient and soothing Yankee, they are doing wonders in teaching the value of time, by founding establishments for "stand-up drinks" in every lazy and luxurious land, by giving prizes to all whosmoke while they work, thus making labor cheerful if not respectable. So patient and indefatigable has Germany been, that at Manchester in England, which may perhaps be termed the Delos of the new faith, I was told some five years ago that she had just taken the contract, had bought from Germany the iron beams and rafters for a new city building, and had put them up under the very noses of the worshippers who burn their sacred fires at Birmingham and Wolverhampton. And so, in the whirligig of time, Trade brings his pleasant revenges.
I was told also—the newspapers said it, and it must be true—that Mr. Mundella, an enterprising M.P., and a devout worshipper of the new god, who is a vast producer at Nottingham of stockings and hosiery of every sort—had found it best—well, absolutely necessary—in order to compete with the new disciples in Germany, to remove a part of his machines and machinery to Germany, and make his stockings there, in order that those ridiculous and cheap Germans should not quite put a stop to his trade. It was whispered about that French-made tools were being bought and brought into England for use there, and it was said openly that American saws, vises, and axes were playing the very deuce; and now, just after the triumphs of the "Centennial," Englishmen are writing home that Yankee silks will also play another very deuce with them if they don't get more and cheaper labor. I see too, by late letters from England, that they propose to cheapen iron by putting cheap Chinese labor into the iron works!
And yet in Germany they cry out thattheyhave a panic, and that trade is dull, and people will persist in failing, and that other people won't buy all they can make; they too are at their wits' ends. There must be something wrong, the "doctrinaires" say, about the gases. Trade is not free enough, or labor is not cheap enough, or they have too much or too little paper money, or they don't try woman suffrage. At any rate the new gospel is right—must be right, because if you obey the laws of trade and buy cheap and sell dear, you are sure to be happy.
And France—it is frightful to think of France. Steeped in stupidity and enveloped in Cimmerean fog, she resists the new gospel. She will not send her missionaries abroad over the world; she will not build great factories and temples; she will not take her whole people from their small farms, where they raise great surpluses of food, to put them into the new temples; she does not even work her land with steam, nor does she hanker for the cheap (and nasty) things which England and Germany are so ready, willing, and anxious to pour into every household; indeed, will not have them at all. Oh, the economic condition of France makes the heart of the enlightened priest of the new gospel weep. France has taken no steps to introduce the cheap labor of Ireland or China, or even of Africa—right at her doors—into her own wretched country, and there is no sign that she will. What feeling but contempt can the sincere doctrinaire entertain for France?
It would be indeed strange—and yet it is not wholly impossible—that England and Germany and the United States, all of whom have for centuries been cursing work, and crying out against work, and doing all manner of things to get rid of work, and educating their best and wisest not to do it—it would be indeed strange if some day they should be crying out, "Give us work, in God's name." Strange, but not wholly impossible.
We come back now to our own country—to the
Land of the free, and the home of the blest.
We are the child of England, and we revere, we love, we emulate her. We adopt her methods, we worship her god. We follow in her footsteps, and emulating her example, we send out missionaries to extend the gospel of trade; we love to buy cheap and sell dear; we love to scheme; we delight in speculation, for that is an intellectual operation. We have been taught for centuries that the mind is divine, the body devilish. We do well, therefore, to despise the devilish body and exalt the godlike soul. We do well to depress and belittle the hand, and to glorify and enlarge the head. We do well to say it, and to make men believe it if we can, that the "pen is mightier than the sword" or the plough. We do well to convert our boys and girls into exaggerated heads, even if they are useless, because we thus exalt them toward gods. We do well to leave out of view all just balance between head and hand because that is common and vulgar. We do well to say that the man whosaysa good thing is greater than he whodoesa good thing, for the spiritualisdivine, and the earthlyisbase!
Keeping in view the short time we have possessed this land, we may fairly arrogate to ourselves what England has long claimed for herself, great "progress." We have created more great cities, more luxurious habits, more free whiskey, more useless railroads, more brokers' boards, more wild-cat banks, more swindling mining companies, more political jobs, more precocious boys and more fast girls, more bankrupt men and more nervous women than any country known in history. Following the "example of our illustrious predecessor"—England—we have done one thing of which we are justly proud, and the full account of which, illustrated with pictures, our "Government" (as we facetiously call it) has published in some ten fine volumes. And what is the example we followed? It is this: England, having possessed herself of the vast kingdom of India, found a production there of opium very lucrative to her and very desirable to many of the Chinese, who enjoyed the smoking of the pleasing drug. England greatly desired to sell this drug to China, for it was all in the interest of trade. One fine day some Chinese emperor or mandarin took it into his meddling head to check or forbid the freedom of this trade: and then the virtue, the religious fervor of the devoted Briton was roused. Ninety-three thousand chests of good merchantable opium, worth many taels, was not a dogma to be trifled with, not even by the Emperor of the Flowery Kingdom. What! Should trade be impeded by this yellow Mantchu, this devotee of Confucius, this long-eyed heathen, because he had some sentimental notions about his people's morals or manners? Good heavens! Could trade stand that? By no means. Persuasion must bring him to his senses if he had any. Persuasion was tried, and various iron arguments were used. They battered down Canton, they assaulted and took the cities of Amoy, Chusan, Ningpo, Woosung, Shanghai, Nanking; and thus the English missionaries kept on persuading until at last the heathen Chinee yielded: was persuaded to pay $12,000,000, to open the ports of Canton, Amoy, Foochoo, Ningpo, Shanghai to trade; to welcome all future opium with open arms; to make the good Queen Victoria a present of the port of Hong Kong; and so on and on. Thus, under the persuasion of a fraternal war, "trade, civilization, and Christianity" made themselves safe in the high places of China; since which happiness has bourgeoned there if not in England!
Could our youthful but pious nation do better than follow this illustrious example? Certainly not. Something must be done. If China could thus be persuaded to trade by the English, poor little Japan might be persuaded to trade by the United States. We could but try. We did, and Perry sailed away, with his ships and his cannons, to try. The Japs were benighted, foolish, and weak. They declined, and said, "No, we don't want any of your trade. We makeall we want, and don't care either for your religion, your opium, your whiskey, or your stovepipe hats."
"But," said the gallant Perry, "that is a wicked sentiment. The brotherhood of nations is the cornerstone of modern civilization. Trade is divine, and stovepipe hats mark the intellectual races. We are your brothers. God has made of one blood all the nations of the earth. If you will not be our brothers, and trade, we shall be obliged to shoot. Don't want to, but must. One—two—three. Bang!"
Well, the Japs also yielded to these arguments, and thenceforth have been happy. Trade has prevailed. Rice has gone up, and a good many Japs have gone to the ethereal spaces, overcome with hunger. Railways have been built, national debts have been created; the Mikado and Tycoon have fought, the Daimios have quarrelled, white men have been assassinated, beggary has begun, taxes press upon the people; and indeed all the signs which mark the high civilization of trade have appeared. "Progress," we are assured, is now certain, and Japan is "developing her resources." Bliss ensues. All of which is written down and printed in many volumes for all men to read. And "Perry's Expedition" can be read in beautiful volumes which cost you, we'll say, $50 for the books and a million for the glorious expedition.
We make any sacrifices for the new religion, and are willing to waste the filthy lucre of gold to extend a divine idea.
We did it!
We opened their ports!
We extended the blessing of trade!
We have made the Japs into Yankees!
They are learning the benefits of cheap and nasty!
Glory be to the new god!
Massachusetts! Massachusetts has held herself and has been held as the heart and the brain of New England. She has had (so she has believed) the heart to feel a moral principle and the head to accept a great thought. She has had brave-hearted men and clear-eyed women. Once—let us make a brief retrospect—she had "pilgrim fathers." She had what she and the world too thought a religion, which she believed in. She had a people of sound English stock, who in this clear New England air grew to hate squalor, vice, beggary, debt, and damnation. Once, fifty years ago, she had no great cities; her "Hub," Boston, in 1830 had but the poor population of 61,392, nearly all born on her soil, few of them dirty or beggared. Once, fifty years ago, all through Massachusetts were clean, decent, white-housed towns, such as Worcester, and Springfield, and Northampton, and Concord, and Salem, and Newburyport, centres of small but most cultivated and earnest social life.
Then small farms were cultivated by families of New England birth, out of whom came able men and handsome women. Children lived with parents, and did not tyrannize them. Silk gowns were rare, and pianos unknown; "art" and "culture" had not become household words, but butter was made at home, and the mystery of bread was known to ladies. Few then had been to Paris, and few therefore knew how vulgar they were. But "where ignorance is bliss," etc. They got on, and did not know what poor creatures they were.
Every child was expected to learn the three R's at the little red school-house, and toperfecthis education by taking hold of material nature with his hands, and learning what it was by mastering it. That was education. The parson knew a little Latin, and he was all. They thought this worked well. Lamentable indeed!
The man expected to marry a capable wife, and to bring up children; he expected to work on his land or in his shop, to dress decently in clothes which his wife had made, securing a reasonable support in this world by his own labor, not byhocus-pocus; he provided for his future salvation by imbibing the five points of Calvin through fifty-four sermons a year, with now and then a Thursday lecture to fill in the cracks. Thus he was sure of his food here and of salvation hereafter—through the merciful providence of God, and not his own righteousness. New England thus produced a breed of people unlike and they fancied not inferior to any that history tells of.
But it would not do. There was no progress—it was a lamentable condition of things. They hadnotgot a population of 211.78 to the square mile, raked together from the four corners of creation, making the State the sixth in density of all in the world, as she now boasts she has, and thus she had totally failed to secure the higher and better civilization.
They had not "developed their resources"; they had not built up splendid great cities; they had little knowledge of the delights of trade. Things could not get on so—that was not "progress." Here was water power running to waste all over Massachusetts; there were keen and able heads who believed they knew how to set these powers to work to grind their grists; it was quite ridiculous that these tumbling streams should not be turning millwheels and spinning cheap cotton. And then too not a railroad ran through Massachusetts—no transportation except in wagons. "Good God!" the pious people naturally exclaimed; "what misery, what a slow set!" Money—money was then loaned at only six per cent.! Things must be changed. They were changed. Mill after mill was built, among them the "Atlantic." Railway after railway was built, among them the "Eastern," and the stock was quickly paid up, and all went merry as a marriage bell. But some people own those stocks now, and donotfind themselves happy!
What is the cure for these shrivelled dividends? Clearly, is it not,to bring in cheap labor? Let every man who has nothing and wants much, take shares in
"The Cheap Labor Society."
Seeing what has been done for Massachusetts, it is easy to see what can be done. And what has been done? In fifty years she has built up Lowell, and Lawrence, and Worcester, and Holyoke, and many more great towns. She has increased Boston to a population of 341,919 souls—or bodies—in the year of grace 1875. She has "improved" things so, has made such progress, that Boston now spends yearly $15,114,389.73 (auditor's report 1875-6), which means that out of every man, woman, and child of Boston was taken in 1875, for public expenses, the sum offorty-four dollars! The happiness resulting from this may be partly understood when I relate that this tax is some four hundred per cent. greater than the "effete aristocracies" of Europe have ever got out of their down-trodden serfs, or have even dared to try to get. One other charming effect of this style of self-government (?), as we please to call it, is, that it has driven out of Boston a set of bloated money getters, who fancy it is not pleasant to pay large taxes, so they go to Nahant, and Barnstable, and Concord for a few months, and rid Boston of themselves and—their taxes! Shrewd fellows those Boston Democrats! They know how togoverna city. So they do in New York. So they do in Cambridge.
But let us look at another of the evidences of true progress. Every man votes, you must know, whether he owns any property or not. Now, Mr. Daniel L. Harris has discovered, in his researches at Springfield, that of the voters there,fourpay taxes andfivedo not; that is, four-ninths of the voters pay the taxes and five-ninths who pay none outvote the four who pay all. This is so generous on the part of the four that we ought to try to see what it is the four really are about. Applying the same ratio to Boston, we find that every tax-payer, every man of the four-ninth party, really paid to the yearly expenditures of the city of Boston, in the blessed year 1875-6, the neat little sum of three hundred and ninety-nine dollars, money of this realm.1
And yet the business men of Boston complain that they have made no money for three years, and that they can't make any. How absurd that is, when they can pay such taxes as these! And then think what they do in Boston for the intellect (as it is called). While they stupidly complain that they can't make any money, they spend on their common schools every year—over two millions of good dollars (2,015,380)—and they teach what—what don't they teach? I counted, I think,thirty-six branchesas being taught in the Boston schools last year. "Art" and "culture," you know! And in those brutal old times of fifty years ago, they taught only the three R's. Unhappy and despicable! Did they not deserve it?
And then the generosity of these Boston merchants who can't, as they pretend, make anything. Look for a moment at that!
They paid in 1865 for the teaching of each one of those children those thirty-six branches, so necessary to salvation, the sum of $21.16; in 1875 the sum of $35.23. That is, they voluntarily and gladly paid somebody sixty-six per cent. more for their work in 1875 than in 1865, and all the while those merchants pretend they are making no money. Do they expect us to believe that?
If they want to make money, why not at once bring in more cheap labor? The Chinese are ready to come, and the negroes, even if Ireland can spare no more of her enlightened people. And then what a boon this class of people would be to our aspiring statesman. For the sum of two dollars they are entitled to vote, and then any man who feels a desire to be a governor or an M.C. can, by paying this paltry pittance, secure the votes of a grateful constituency. Is it not, therefore, our supreme duty to bring in this class of voters as rapidly as possible? We needpopulationand we needvoters. England has a population of 389 to the square mile and we in Massachusetts have only 211! Should we not hide our faces with shame while such an inferiority lasts?
There are people now who are getting up a scare about the wonderful growth of the Holy Catholic Church, claiming that that church demands of all its members (as it does) allegiancefirstto the Church, and thensecondto the government where its subjects happen to be. I do not think much of this now that Antonelli is dead; but there may be something in it. I question whether Massachusetts can any longer put forth pretensions to being a Puritan or a Unitarian or religious State of any sort unless it be a Catholic one. Go with me to the U.S. census report of 1870:
Thus, it seems, the population of Massachusetts is already foreign-born and of foreign parents,over two-thirds. What number of these foreign people are Roman Catholics, any other person can guess as well as I can. But it is quite certain that this blessing, such as it is, has reached us incidentally through our cheap labor; that is, it is a sort of superadded bliss, coming as an unexpected reward of unconscious virtue. In the words of Shakespeare, "We are twice blessed." We have got cheap labor and we have got the Catholic church crowning every hill and blooming in every valley.
At any rate it is quite certain that few if any of this class of the Massachusetts people are either Puritans, Unitarians, or Episcopalians; and some of them I strongly suspect are like the good sailor, neither Catholics nor Protestants, but "captains of the fore-top!" In Massachusetts, as I have said, there was in 1870 of this kind of population sixty-six per cent., and all have votes. In the whole United States there was forty-five per cent. of this sort, all of whom have votes. It is known also that New York, and Boston, and Lowell, and Fall River are intrinsically foreign cities. It is known that the majority of voters in those cities have no property which pays taxes; it is known that this class of voters are now well organized, and can and do vote and do elect such men as willplease them—men who "will tickle me if I'll tickle you"—that is the sort of statesman we now welcome with effusion; indeed, we seek no other. We mean to deplete all over-grown fortunes; we mean through the taxes to equalize things and make Saturday afternoons pleasant. I have not at hand, just this moment, the figures to tell what good was done in Boston last year to the class called "the poor." But I have them for Cambridge, a small city almost a part of Boston. In that small select and intellectual city the expenditures in direct aid of "the poor," not counting work which wasmadefor them, was in dollars, $80,000, and that does not count a large sum besides given in private charity. This help was given to some 5,400 persons; stating it simply, in the words of political economy, one person in seven or eight of that cultivated and select community was a pauper. Another feature of this new and peculiar social state is this: that the voters who have no property and pay no taxes do not enjoy the possibility of starving, nor do they look with favor upon advice which tells them to "Go West." Why should they go West? They do not know where to go—indeed, they have no money to go with—nor do they know that there would be any work for them there. Theychooseto stay where they are, and they will vote for people who will help them to stay; and they have five votes to the tax-payer's four, which significant little fact should not be lost sight of!
In our laudable desire for "progress," in our vital wish "to develop our resources," we have produced many results, some interesting ones, quite unexpected. We have got cheap labor and we have got cheap cotton cloth and cheap boots and shoes, and a good deal of all of them. The smart little city of Lowell was begun by the most capable and enterprising of Boston's "solid men"; it was begun upon a theory that men and women in New England ought to be clean, decent, and virtuous. In its beginning nearly all the operatives were of New England birth, descendants of Puritans who were used to decency, cleanliness, and virtue. Then they lived and lodged in houses belonging to the mills, which wereregulated—the men in their own boarding houses, the women in theirs. All were expected to be in their houses by or before a certain hour, say ten o'clock at night.
Then every young lady had a green silk parasol for Sunday's use, and she wrote poetry for the "Lowell Offering," if she felt the divine movement. At that early undeveloped time an English gentleman, one Anthony Trollope, visited the nascent city. He lamented the narrow-mindedness of the projectors, and predicted it would not work; that the little Lowell could never compete with such highly developed cities as Manchester and Preston, where they knew the magic of "cheap labor." In other words, Lowell could not be a great success.
That Arcadian simplicity worked for a while, but inevitably the magic of cheap labor made itself felt—it was potent—it came, it saw, it conquered. And now the best information I have convinces me that the squalor, filth, recklessness, and happiness are nearly or quite equal to what they are in the noble cities of Manchester and Glasgow in England. Should Mr. Trollope revisit those scenes of his youth, he would be as much delighted as any Englishman could permit himself to be with anything outside his "Merrie England" at the delectable advances made there.
He would find labor cheap and cotton cheap—as cheap as they are in his beloved Manchester. He would find, as in his beloved Manchester, that they made more than they could sell; which is the secret of cheapness. He would find that in that small elysium, in the year 1874, they made 135,000,000 yards of cotton cloth, which gospel of cotton they were then spreading abroad over all the earth, sending some of it to his beloved Manchester. He would learn also that there was invested there some $20,000,000 of good money of the realm, a large proportion of which paid no dividends; which also is an excellent method of securing cheapness. He would find all "narrow-minded regulations" quite done away with, and the full liberty of the subject enjoyed by all; that people staid "out nights" according to their own sweet wills; that men slept when they pleased and where they pleased, and with whom they pleased—women too for that matter; and that life was as free and pleasant as his good English heart could wish. He would find that the old-fashioned, narrow-minded New England stock had disappeared—not being cheap enough—and their places were fully supplied with a delightful conglomeration of gentlemen and ladies who had fled from poor Ireland, from the Azores, from Germany, from pastoral Acadie; and here and there he would note the pigtail of the frugal Chinese, theavant courier of a better time coming.
Thus he would find that Lowell, having rid herself of narrow-minded notions, having followed reverently in the footsteps of his illustrious Manchester, wasa success indeed.
AndLynntoo. 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 isnogovernment," "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 theirminds!" "Beautiful! Beautiful! Hosannah to the highest!" was what every disbanded Crispin ought to have said; but, foolish man as he was, he kept saying, "Mybodyis 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 paidthe 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 whattheywant 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 adespotism, 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 aperfect 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.
And so, as New England has cut into old England, and has set her own machinery and steam to work making many things cheaper than old England can make them, and bids fair to starve out some of her garrisons of workers, just in the same way have Pittsburgh, and Cincinnati, and Chicago taken it into their heads to set their machinery and steam to work; and now torrents of hats, and shoes, and woollens, and cottons, and clothing, and furniture, and stoves, and pots are pouring out of those nests of industry, so that even they are beginning to cry out, "Why don't you buy what we want to sell, and thus makeusrich?"
If, then, we in New England refuse to buy—refuse to buy at profitable prices the productions of old England—what does England propose to do with her millions of non-food-producing workmen? She demands free trade; says we are fools for not opening our ports and accepting with effusion the blessings of cheap goods she would so willingly send us? She does not quite like to openourports, as she did those of China, nor does she incline at present to carry into France the civilizing influences of her cheap looms at the point of the bayonet.Shemust answer the question, not I.
And in New England—if that "West," with its fertile fields and its surplus food, will go to making cheap shoes and cheap cotton, and will not see how much happier she would be if she would only make corn and pork and swap them with New England for shoes and cotton—what will New England, what will Massachusetts do with her 507,034 workers who do not produce their own food? This is rather a vital question to those men and women who have no food. It is rather vital too to the capital invested in mills and machines in Lowell and elsewhere.
I come back now to my first proposition for the cure of the ills of life—cheap labor.
If trade be the true god, let us worship him; if to buy cheap and sell dear be the true gospel, let us extend that; if to convert men and women into tenders to machines be really the perfection of human nature, let us import the wild African and the heathen Chinee rapidly, largely, for nothing can be cheaper than they. Let us get ready our ships; let us open the ports of Dahomey, and Congo, and Canton, and Shanghai; let us exchange whiskey and tobacco for able-bodied men and women; let us fill this land with the black men and the copper men; let us perfect our civilization, for those men and those women can live cheap and work cheap; and ifwhitemen andwhitewomen do go to the wall—why should they not?
Gentle reader, you ask what is themoral?
I reply, Does not our civilization demandcheap cottonand not greatmen and women? Clearly it does.
Does it not demand freepauper immigration? Clearly it does.
Does it not demand cheapChinese immigration? Clearly it does.
Does it not demand freepauperand freeChinese voting? Clearly it does.
Does it not demand that "Trade" shall be god, and thelaws of supply and demandshall rule? Clearly it does.
Does it not call this "progress"? Clearly it does.
And is not all this leading us directly to—Heavenor toHell? Clearly they are.
And you, gentle reader, can decide which.
Charles Wylly Elliott.