CHAPTER X.

MASTERS AND MEN.

"The sweat of industry would dry, and die,

But for the end it workrt to." Shakspeare.

"Man is a shop of rules, a well-trussed pack,

Whose every parcel underwrites a law,"—George Herbert.

"Care preserves what Industry gains. He who attends to his business diligently but not carefully, throws away with one hand what he gathers with the other."—Colton.

"The acquisition of property, the accumulation of capital, is already in the power of the better-paid working class; and legislation has but few further facilities to give, or obstacles to remove. Their savings are now so large that only soberer habits and rounder sense are needed to make them independent capitalists in less than half a lifetime."—W.R. Greg.

Employers can do a great deal towards promoting habits of thrift, prudence, and sobriety amongst their workpeople. Though the working man does not like to be patronized, he has no objections to be helped. We have already seen that individuals can do much; they can cultivate habits of economy, and lay by a certain portion of their earnings for help in time of need. But they want encouragement and assistance. They want sympathy; they want help.

If masters fully understood the immense amount of influence which they possess, they would extend their sympathy and confidence to their workmen,—which Would cost them so very little, and profit them so very much. We know of no instance where an employer has displayed a concern for the social well-being and improvement of his workmen, in which he has not been repaid by their increased respect and zeal on his behalf. He may, for instance, arrange that wages shall not be paid so as to drive them into the market late on Saturday nights, when they are often under the necessity of making their weekly purchases at a great disadvantage. Of course, workmen who possess a little store of savings, might make their purchases at greater advantage at any other time. The employer might also avoid paying wages in public-houses, and thus keep his workmen out of the way of incurring an expenditure upon drink, that might prove so hurtful.

But masters can do more than this. They can actively aid their workmen in the formation of prudent habits, by establishing savings banks for men and women, and penny banks for boys and girls; by encouraging the formation of provident clubs and building societies, of provision and clothing clubs, and in many other ways. They might also distribute among them, without any officious interference, good counsel as to the manner in which they might make the best use of their wages. Many large employers have already accomplished much practical good, by encouraging the formation of provident institutions,—in which they have never failed to secure the respect, and generally the co-operation, of their workmen.

At the same time there is much want of sympathy between masters and men. In fact, want of sympathy pervades all classes—the poorer, the working, the middle, and the upper classes. There are many social gaps between them, which cannot yet be crossed, which cannot yet be united. "If I were to be asked," said Judge Talfourd, on whom Death was at the moment laying his hand, "what is the great want of English society—to mingle class with class—I would say, in one word, the want is the want of sympathy." A great truth, but not yet appreciated. It is the old truth, on which Christianity is based, of "Love one another"—simple saying, but containing within it a gospel sufficient to renovate the world. But where men are so split and divided into classes, and are so far removed that they can scarcely be said to know one another, they cannot have a due social regard and consideration, much less a genuine sympathy and affection, for each other?

Charity cannot remedy the evil. Giving money, blankets, coals, and such-like, to the poor—where the spirit of sympathy is wanting,—does not amount to much. The charity of most of the Lord and Lady Bountifuls begins with money, and ends there. The fellow-feeling is absent. The poor are not dealt with as if they belonged to the same common family of man, or as if the same human heart beat in their breasts.

Masters and servants live in the same unsympathetic state. "Each for himself" is their motto. "I don't care who sinks, so that I swim." A man at an inn was roused from his slumber; "There is a fire at the bottom of the street," said the waiter. "Don't disturb me" said the traveller, "until the next house is burning." An employer said to his hands, "You try to get all you can out of me; and I try to get all I can out of you." But this will never do. The man who has any sympathy in him cannot allow such considerations to overrule his better nature. He must see the brighter side of humanity ever turned towards him. "Always to think the worst," said Lord Bolingbroke, "I have ever found the mark of a mean spirit and a base soul."

On the other hand, the operative class consider their interests to be quite distinct from those of the master class. They want to get as much for their labour as possible. They want labour to be dear that they may secure high wages. Thus, there being no mutual sympathy nor friendly feeling between the two classes,—but only money considerations,—collisions are frequent, and strikes occur. Both classes—backed by their fellows determined to "fight it out," and hence we have such destructive strikes as those of Preston, Newcastle, London, and South Wales.

The great end of both is gain, worldly gain, which sometimes involves a terrible final loss. A general suspicion of each other spreads, and society becomes cankered to the core. The remedy is only to be found in the cherishment of a larger Christian sympathy and more genuine benevolence. Thus only can the breath of society be sweetened and purified. Money gifts avail nothing, as between rich and poor. Unless there is a soul of goodness, and a real human fellowship between them, the mischief and the curse which the excellent Judge Talfourd lamented with his dying breath will never be overcome.

Some allege that this want of sympathy arises, for the most part, from the evils of Competition. It is "heartless," "selfish," "mischievous," "ruinous," and so on. It is said to produce misery and poverty to the million. It is charged with lowering prices, or almost in the same breath with raising them. Competition has a broad back, and can bear any amount of burdens.

And yet there is something to be said for competition, as well as against it. It is a struggle,—that must be admitted. All life is a struggle. Amongst workmen, competition is a struggle to advance towards higher wages. Amongst masters, to make the highest profits. Amongst writers, preachers, and politicians, it is a straggle to succeed,—to gain glory, reputation, or income. Like everything human, it has a mixture of evil in it. If one man prospers more than others, or if some classes of men prosper more than others, they leave other classes of men behind them. Not that they leave those others worse, but that they themselves advance.

Put a stop to competition, and you merely check the progress of individuals and of classes. You preserve a dead uniform level. You stereotype society, and its several orders and conditions. The motive for emulation is taken away, and Caste, with all its mischiefs, is perpetuated. Stop competition, and you stop the struggle of individualism. You also stop the advancement of individualism, and through that of society at large.

Under competition, the lazy man is put under the necessity of exerting himself; and if he will not exert himself, he must fall behind. If he do not work, neither shall he eat. My lazy friend, you must not look to me to do my share of the world's work, and yours too! You must do your own fair share of work, save your own money, and not look to me and to others to keep you out of the poor-house. There is enough for all; but do your own share of work you must.

Success grows out of struggles to overcome difficulties. If there were no difficulties, there would be no success. If there were nothing to struggle or compete for, there would be nothing achieved. It is well, therefore, that men should be under the necessity of exerting themselves. In this necessity for exertion, we find the chief source of human advancement—the advancement of individuals as of nations. It has led to most of the splendid mechanical inventions and improvements of the age. It has stimulated the shipbuilder, the merchant, the manufacturer, the machinist, the tradesman, the skilled workman. In all departments of productive industry, it has been the moving power. Is has developed the resources of this and of other countries,—the resources of the soil, and the character and qualities of the men who dwell upon it. It seems to be absolutely necessary for the purpose of stimulating the growth and culture of every individual. It is deeply rooted in man, leading him ever to seek after, and endeavour to realize, something better and higher than he has yet attained.

Of course, man is much more than a competing being. That is only one of his characteristics, and not the highest or noblest. He has sensibilities, sympathies, and aspirations, which should induce him to unite and cooperate with others in works for the common good. With unfettered individualism, there may, and there ought to be, beneficent cooperation for the general happiness. Men may unite to labour, to produce, and to share with each other the fruits of their corporate industry. But under any circumstances, there will be the instinct of competition, the opportunities for competition, and, though mixed with necessary evil, there will be the ultimate advantages of competition.

One of the results of industry and thrift is the accumulation of Capital. Capital represents the self-denial, the providence, and the enterprise of the past. The most successful accumulators of capital have in all times risen from the ranks of labour itself; they are working men who have shot ahead of their fellows, and who now give employment instead of receiving it. These persons,—who are not the less working men because they have ceased to be manual labourers,—by creating and extending the sphere of productive industry, must be regarded as amongst the most effective benefactors of the people, as they unquestionably are among the principal sources of the power and wealth of any nation. Without the capital accumulated by their thrift during many generations, the lot of the artizan would be most precarious.

There is not a mechanic but has the use of the money of the master who employs him. When the unskilled labourer lays down his spade, he leaves idle a capital worth eighteen-pence; but when a skilled artizan or mechanic leaves his mill or his workshop, he leaves idle a capital of from a hundred to two hundred pounds per man. Nor does the skilled workman run any risk whatever as regards the sums invested, though he virtually shares the profits in the shape of the wages paid for his labour. The profit which remains is the master's return for his management and his risks. It is well known, however, that the risks are not always covered, as the Gazette in bad times abundantly demonstrates.

The workman in good employment is not liable to losses by bad debts; he has no obsolete machinery from time to time left useless on his hands; and he has no anxiety about finding a market for his goods, nor fears respecting fluctuations in the price of the raw material. These are important advantages in his favour, which he does not usually take into account. It is true he suffers if trade is bad, but he earns high wages if it be good: he can then save money if he chooses to do so. He may be said to participate in the adversity or prosperity of his firm, but without incurring any of the liabilities of partnership.

Mr. Carlyle has given a curious account of the great English manufacturer. "Plugson, of St. Dolly Undershot, buccaneer-like, says to his men, 'Noble spinners, this is the hundred thousand we have gained, wherein I mean to dwell and plant my vineyards. The hundred thousand is mine, the three-and-sixpence daily was yours. Adieu, noble spinners! drink my health with this groat each, which I give you over and above!'"

This account of the manufacturing buccaneer is a picture drawn by a man of genius from his imagination. There are probably many readers who believe the picture to be drawn from fact. There may, of course, be masters who are buccaneers; but there are also masters who are not buccaneers. There are dishonest manufacturers, as there are dishonest literary men, dishonest publicans, dishonest tradesmen. But we must believe that in all occupations honesty is the rule, and dishonesty the exception. At all events, it is better that we should know what the manufacturers really are,—from fact rather than from fiction.