CHAPTER VII.
“ZECHARIAH, I want you to give Joel Byron his old place in the mill. I do not approve of discharging workmen for their politics.�
“I shall do no such thing, Sister Eva. Byron was not discharged for his politics, but for attempting to create discontent among his fellow-workmen.�
“The petition to the Selectmen, which Byron circulated, asking for an evening session of town-meeting, was a perfectly respectful one, was it not?�
“If you mean respectful to the Selectmen,—yes; if you mean respectful to us,—no!�
“How so?�
“We, who own the town, ought to say what its taxes should be. Our employees, who pay only poll taxes, should not vote taxes for us to pay. If the appropriations for town expenses were made at an evening session, as they are in some Massachusetts towns, our workmen couldvote, and load us down with taxes. Under Massachusetts law, mill-hands can remain away from their work onlytwo hours. This law does not apply to town-meeting, but we give our workmen the benefit of it. Our workmen can come and vote for town-officers by secret ballot, and get back to the mills within the two hours. After they are safely away from town-meeting, and at work again, we pass the appropriations.�
“You don’t believe in popular government, then?�
“I don’t believe that a man who pays only two dollars tax, should be the equal of one who pays ten thousand dollars taxes, when it comes to voting appropriations.�
“But what would become of popular government, and of our free institutions, if your ideas prevailed?�
“I don’t know and I don’t care. You have about as much sense as a hen, Eva, when it comes to business.�
“Have I? Very well. I have about as much influence as a hen, if you please,in the management of the Baldwin Mills, although my father left me a two-million-dollar interest in these mills. Now, Zechariah, I have been a mere cipher in this business long enough. There is a New York gentleman who will gladly pay me every dollar my interest in the Baldwin Mills is worth. He will not be a cipher in the concern as I have been, and he has opinions of his own as to the rights of workingmen. He will not see his employees’ interests trodden under foot without uttering a protest which will be heard, not only throughout the State, but throughout the Nation.
“I give you fair warning. One week from to-day, unless you and David make a fair division of the property with me, I shall deed my interest in the Baldwin Mills to the New Yorker. Don’t say I didn’t give you fair warning. You will have a partner, if I sell out, who will be able to protect both himself and his workmen. We’ll see whether I have as much sense as a hen in this business.�
The black eyes snapped fiercely, andEva Baldwin swept out of the room without giving her brother a chance to reply. He immediately summoned David home from Washington. The Congressman had often made peace between his brother and sister, but he found it impossible to patch up any kind of a truce this time. In vain he made promises.
“You’ve made promises before, David Baldwin, and then you’ve let Zechariah cheat the workingmen out of their votes again, just the same as before. You’re standing before the country as the workingman’s friend, when really you are an impostor. Some day the country will find you out. The man who stands by and sees his workmen defrauded of the right to vote appropriations for their own homes, is just as big a villain as the man who does the dirty work himself.�
These were Eva Baldwin’s plain words. Only one day was left of her week’s notice, and still no agreement.
“You are not going to carry out your threat, are you Eva?� asked the Congressman.
“It is not a threat. I am simply not going to be a partner in this iniquity any longer. If I sell out it will be to a man who thinks as I do about the workman’s rights. I’m ready to draw the papers.�
“I think it is a bad move, both for you and for us,� was the brother’s reply; “but you have the advantage of us. Of course we cannot admit a stranger to ownership in the Baldwin Mills, so we make this proposition: Calling your interest two millions, we will give you the Liberty Mill, at one and one-half million dollars, and pay you the balance.�
This offer was accepted and Eva Baldwin became owner of the Liberty Mill.
Town-meeting day arrived. The movement for an evening session had apparently died.
Back of the town-hall was the office of Ford Hulbert, auctioneer and real estate agent. On the morning of town-meeting Hulbert’s front entrance was closed, locked, and a curtain drawn. In the rear his office opened upon a long alley running back to an unfrequented streetcalled Back Lane. Had anyone watched Back Lane that morning from daylight to ten o’clock, he would have seen an occasional lonely voter pass quietly along the street, up the long alley, and into the rear door of Hulbert’s office. They did not attract suspicion. One by one they passed in, like flies into a trap, but none of them came out.
Ten o’clock came. In the town-hall less than twenty voters were present, mostly Baldwin sympathizers. Every word spoken was heard in Hulbert’s office.
“The time has arrived for calling this meeting to order,� said the town clerk, who then read the warrant.
“Prepare your ballots for a moderator,� commanded the Clerk. But now the rear door opened, and in filed forty voters from Hulbert’s office. After the choice of a moderator and a few minor town-officers, Mr. Hulbert arose and said:—
“I move that this meeting, except the balloting for town-officers, be adjournedto seven-thirty o’clock this evening.�
“I second the motion,� said John Wycliff.
A chorus of objections arose from the Baldwin party.
“Question!� shouted Hulbert with his auctioneer’s lungs. “A motion to adjourn, Mr. Moderator, is not debatable.�
“Question! question! question!� the forty followers yelled, at the top of their lungs.
“Right you are; a motion to adjourn is not debatable,� said the Moderator, as soon as he could make himself heard. “You hear the motion; all in favor of adjourning this meeting to seven-thirty o’clock this evening, will signify it by sayingAye; contrary minds,No. It is a vote.�
“Disputed! disputed!� the Baldwin forces yelled, as they now saw other voters coming, and hoped for reinforcements by delay.
“All in favor of this motion raise your right hands,� said the Moderator. “I see forty-two hands. Now all opposed,raise your right hands. I see seventeen hands. The motion is carried. This meeting is adjourned until seven-thirty o’clock this evening.�
The trap of Ford Hulbert’s setting had sprung neatly, and caught the Baldwins napping. It had been customary to adjourn until two o’clock, hence the small number present, and the ease with which Hulbert’s strategy succeeded. For the first time in many years the mill-hands would have a chance to vote on the money to be spent for their schools, highways, and other expenses.
At the evening session Zechariah Baldwin took the floor, and said:
“It was a mean, contemptible trick to adjourn town-meeting to this hour. No decent man would take part in such a game.�
Ford Hulbert sprang to his feet.
“Mr. Moderator: There isonegentleman by the name of Baldwin, whom we all delight to honor. Let us hear from our Congressman.�
Amid cheers the Congressman roseand said: “I am satisfied with this arrangement if it meets the popular will. Let us get to business.�
He was too wise to show the anger which he felt.
The business of the town-meeting was marked out by a committee consisting of all the larger property-owners in the town, and one common laborer. It was through this “Financial Committee� that the Baldwins largely controlled town-meeting, and the one lonely laborer showed how lightly they esteemed the class that had made them wealthy.
To-day the improvement of a certain street, the home of laborers, was under discussion. Sheriff Burse, an agent of the Baldwins, arose, and in a husky voice, like the whisper of the wind thro’ the pine woods, said that the Financial Committee did not approve the appropriation. True, a dozen vehicles had been overturned on that street recently, but, according to the Sheriff, it was the fault of the drivers. The matter was considered settled, when a sleepy-lookinglittle man arose and addressed the Chair.
“Uncle Jerry Barnaby,� whispered the crowd. “There’ll be fun now.�
Uncle Jerry was the wit of the town. It is hard to define wit. In Uncle Jerry’s case his appearance had much to do with the laughter which greeted him. He was a sad-looking, wild-eyed little man, whose “little body,� as he expressed it, “was tired carrying around his big brain.�
“Mr. Moderator.�
“Mr. Barnaby.�
“It is true, as Sheriff Burse has said, that a man may drive through Hodgson Street safely. By using great care, by dodging rocks and sand-banks, and by the special favor of Divine Providence, he may live to drive through that street; but I would advise him, before attempting it, to place a good big insurance on his life, and to kiss his wife and children farewell. As has been said, Mr. Moderator, a man may drive through Hodgson street safely; a perfectly sober man may drive through a wood-lot, but—�
In the uproar which followed, Uncle Jerry never finished his sentence. It was voted to repair Hodgson Street.
The secret balloting, during the day, elected Hugh Maxwell Selectman, and the Baldwins failed in their efforts to force Jacob Sharp upon the voters.
There was a proposition to increase the pay of the police from two dollars to two dollars and a half per night. There was much opposition to the increase, its general drift being that the policemen were already well paid, when Uncle Jerry was again recognized by the Moderator. Congressman Baldwin frowned, and a reflection of his frown was seen upon the face of the Moderator, who was obliged to recognize the mirth-provoking Barnaby.
He immediately began a somewhat rambling oration, which he had been declaiming in his own house for weeks, and which was intended to set forth the faithful services of the policemen. The audience was soon convulsed with laughter, and it was impossible for the Moderatorto check him, as almost everybody in the hall was encouraging him by laughter and applause.
Uncle Jerry was thoroughly in earnest. He could see no occasion for mirth.
“When all sounds of industry are stilled,� said Uncle Jerry, “when the fond mother lies asleep with the darling babe on her bosom,—�
“Speak on the question, Mr. Barnaby!� roared the Moderator.
“I am speaking on the question, Mr. Moderator—when the demon tongues of fire leap up in the basement, and threaten your lovely home, threaten to envelop in their horrible embrace all that you hold dearest on earth,—that fond wife and loving mother and that darling infant on the mother’s breast,—�
“Come to the point, Mr. Barnaby!�
“I am coming to the point, Mr. Moderator, just as fast as I can, but you make me lose my place. When the devouring flames, Mr. Moderator, threaten to embrace that fond wife and loving mother and darling infant on the mother’sbreast,—it is the watchful eye of the vigilant policeman, Mr. Moderator—,�
The allusion to the “vigilant policemen� of Papyrus was the last straw. The audience reveled in such a fit of uncontrolled laughter that Uncle Jerry never proceeded further. Meanwhile the friends of the policemen thought it a favorable time to take a vote.
“Question!� shouted one.
“Question!� echoed a hundred. The policemen won.
The most important question taken up was that of a sewer. Physicians and others testified to the wretched sanitary conditions which made Papyrus one of the most unhealthy towns in the state, for the lack of a sewer. Deacon Surface, the most adroit speaker in Papyrus, answered them. He said that the taxes were too high. At the proper time the “men who owned the town� would be ready for a sewer, but not yet. He omitted to say that the Baldwins paid taxes on less than half the true value of their property in Papyrus. Heomitted to say, also, that the Baldwins had recently given to the city of Elmfield, for something much less needed than a sewer, a larger sum than it would cost to build several sewer-systems for Papyrus. The Deacon’s speech was eloquent, polished, and well-rounded—a beautiful bubble, needing only the pinpoint of truth to explode it. Ford Hulbert was just thinking it his duty to apply the pin to the bubble, when the irrepressible Barnaby rose.
“Mr. Moderator,� piped the wild-eyed little man.
“Mr. Barnaby,� groaned the Moderator.
“Mr. Moderator. I want to congratulate Deacon Surface on making the most eloquent speech I have ever heard in this hall. Among all the facts which he gave us, it is strange that he overlooked one fact—one cold, scientific truth—bearing on the question.�
“What is it?� asked a hundred voices. Even Deacon Surface arose, turned toward Uncle Jerry, and joined in the question.Then, when you could have heard a pin drop, and the silence was becoming oppressive, the piping voice said:—
“One cold, scientific fact, Mr. Moderator, just as true as the facts he gave us,—the moon is made of green cheese, Mr. Moderator.�
Deacon Surface collapsed with his bubble argument, while the audience went wild. But the sewer was lost. The employees of Zechariah and David Baldwin, in a matter involving so large an outlay, dared not openly vote against their masters.
Not until we have the secret ballot for measures, as well as for men, will there be political freedom in Massachusetts towns.