Toilers of Babylon: A Novel

"Ha! ha! ha!" from the back of the room.

Mr. Bartholomew looked severely in that direction, and said:

"What are you ha-ha-ha-ing about? Do you think I want to make a point against gentlemen who carry cards? You're mistaken, though perhaps I too was wrong in the way I put it. 'I don't for a moment doubt,' said the Conservative candidate, 'that our good friend, Mr. Bartholomew, who I hope one day will blossom into a good Conservative'-between you and me, mates, that will be never."

"Hear, hear."

"'I don't for a moment doubt that he is right about what he says of Coriolanus and the application of it. I don't remember the lines myself, but I will take them from him, and I will give him an answer in an anecdote. There was a serpent once, a regulation serpent, a twining, slimy, creeping, crawling reptile, with head and tail, and all other necessary parts. Now, Mr. Bartholomew knows that it is a law of nature for serpents that in going through life the head goes first. I don't know exactly how old the serpent was when its tail ranged itself upon what I may call the opposition side. It said to the head: "Look here, I ain't going to be dragged about in this manner all day long, and all night long, just where you like to take me. I won't stand it. It's my turn for an innings; fair play is fair play." All the other parts of the serpent joined in the argument, and the tail was so noisy and blustering that it carried along with it every bit of the serpent but the head. Now, it unfortunately happened,' said the Conservative candidate, 'that this particular head of this particular serpent was weak-minded; anyhow, it was foolish enough to say: "Put it to the vote, and I'll stand by it. You shall decide who goes first, the tail or me." It was put to the vote, and it was decided by a large majority that the tail was right, and that it ought to have an innings. "Very well," says the head, I resign." Then the tail, crying, "Come along," took command. But, my friends,' said the Conservative candidate, 'you don't need to be told-though perhaps it will enlighten Mr. Bartholomew-that the eyes of a serpent's body are in its head, and not in its tail, and that as the tail dragged its way along it couldn't see where it was going. It got into a prickly hedge, and when the other portions of the body felt the sting and the pain they cried out: "What are you about?" "Oh, that's nothing," answered the tail, working its way out of the prickly hedge, I am new to the business, that's all; you must put up with a mistake or two-that's only fair, you know." "Yes, yes," said the other parts of the body; "go on, go on." He did, and came to a part of the forest where there was a smouldering fire. Straight into this fire crept the tail, and, maddened with pain, crept farther into it, hoping to escape, and in less than no time the tail and the other rebellious parts of the body were burned to ashes. The head alone remained.'"

Mr. Bartholomew paused for a moment or two, and then said:

"I see some of you fidgeting at your pipes. Fill 'em and smoke 'em. We're not regularly formed, and whether we shall always be at liberty to smoke while we're talking is a matter for you to settle by and by."

The pipes being filled and lighted, Mr. Bartholomew went on.

"That was the story the Conservative candidate told, and it set the packed meeting cheering and laughing to that degree that I couldn't get in another word, and was supposed to be settled. But the Conservative candidate made a great many serious mistakes in that illustration. He intended to liken the government of England, and everybody else in it, to one single being; whether it was beast, bird, or fish don't matter, because it won't do, mates, because it doesn't apply. True enough there must be a head to all constituted societies, to all forms of government, but, mates-"

And here the speaker rested his two hands upon the table and bent earnestly forward.

"We who are governed have eyes; we're not like the serpent's tail-we can see where we're going. The road is stretched before us, and our eyes are open. The serpent's tail not only had no eyes, he had no brains-we have, and we can judge. The serpent's tail not only had no eyes and no brains, it had no heart-we have, and we can see and judge, and love and suffer and enjoy with as large a capacity as those who govern us. I don't for one moment believe that the view the Conservative candidate took-he didn't get in, you know, mates-"

"Ha, ha, ha!" from the audience.

"Is the view entertained by the Conservative party, the leading members of which are far too sensible and clever to put forward such narrow-minded theories. But it must never be forgotten that they're in the main looking out more for themselves and for their own interests than for us and ours. That's human nature, and I don't complain of it; if I did, it would be in a measure like cutting the ground from under our own feet, because one of the objects of this meeting-the principal object, I may say-is to look after ourselves and our own interests, which we've got the idea has been rather lost sight of. Now, before I come to the wind-up of my speech-it has been a great deal longer than I intended to make it-"

"Not a bit too long, Bart," was the general cry.

"Much obliged, mates. Before I come to the end of it, I want to impress one thing upon you. All over the world there are to be found men who go in for equality, with a capital E. Some of those men are scholars, lots of 'em clever and talented; but, mates, they've got a warp in their minds. Such a thing as equality ain't possible. If it was possible to establish it at nine o'clock to-night, by nine o'clock to-morrow morning it wouldn't exist. There must be different degrees among human beings, there must be inequalities, like the very world we live in, which, as we've been taught in school, resembles the outside of an orange. But our argument is-because I suppose we're pretty well agreed upon it-that the inequalities are now too great, and require to be rubbed down a bit. It's a difficult question, and it's got to be treated with good sense. And now, thanking you for your attention, and the meeting being regularly opened, we'll proceed to business."

Mr. Bartholomew sat down amid a volley of applause, after which there was a long silence, he being really the only practical man among them; or, to speak more correctly, the only man who had practice in this kind of movement, and knew how to conduct it.

"The first thing we've got to do, you know," he said, looking around, "is to propose a resolution forming ourselves into a distinct body. As the chairman of the meeting, I can't propose any resolution; it is for one of you to do it."

"All right, chairman," said a bold boot and shoe maker, "I do it."

"What?" inquired Mr. Bartholomew.

"Propose it," said the bold boot and shoe maker.

"Propose what?" asked Mr. Bartholomew.

"That we're a distinct body," said the bold boot and shoe maker.

"I seconds it," said another boot and shoe maker, starting up, and sinking instantly into his chair, covered with confusion. It was the first public speech he had ever made.

"No, no, that won't do," said Mr. Bartholomew, "you must put it in words-understandable words. You propose that we form ourselves into a working-man's club. That's your proposition, ain't it?"

"That's it," said the bold boot and shoe maker.

"And you second it," said Mr. Bartholomew, looking at boot and shoe maker No. 2, who faintly nodded. He had not the courage to speak again.

"It is proposed by Mr. Richard Chappel," said Mr. Bartholomew, "boot and shoe maker, and seconded by Mr. William Blackmore, that we form ourselves into a working-man's club, we being all of us Liberals, and our chief object being the political and social advancement of working-men generally. Those in favor of the resolution signify it in the usual manner by holding up their hands."

Every hand was held up.

"On the contrary," said the chairman.

Full half of those present held up their hands.

"No, no, no," cried the chairman, "there must be something wrong here. You, Stokes, and you, Manning, and you, Bill Forbes, and you, William Blackmore, who seconded the resolution, all voted for it, of course, and now you vote against it. You can't vote two ways!"

Boot and shoe maker No. 2, with a white face, whispered something in a neighbor's ear, who thereupon said:

"Blackmore says he always votes on the contrary. He does it at home."

"But that can't be here," said the chairman; "we must all vote one way or the other. Are you in favor of this club?"

"Yes," every man cried. "Is there any one not in favor of it?"

"No," every man cried.

"Then it's carried," said the chairman, "unanimously. Now we must give it a name."

Upon the face of every man present dwelt a pondering expression, the general just interpretation of which would be vacuity. Half a dozen put their fingers to their brows, but not one of them had a name to propose.

The ever-ready chairman-and be it here remarked that Mr. Bartholomew was as good-humored as he was apt-rose and said:

"It ain't the lightest of matters to give a fit name to such a club as ours. I think I can suggest one."

"Bart's the cleverest chap in the country," said one of the audience. "He ought to be prime-minister."

Mr. Bartholomew resumed.

"I don't throw it in your teeth, mates; it's only a matter of reading, and I don't doubt in a year or two that some of you will know as much as me, and a good deal more. I don't throw it in your teeth, I say, that perhaps none of you ever heard the name of William Wilberforce."

They looked at each other and shook their heads.

"He wasn't a working-man, he was a gentleman with plenty of money; born a gentleman, and bred at college. But, mates, he was a man who saw things with a clear eye, and a clear heart that bled at the sight of oppression, and with a mind steadfast enough to accomplish what it was set upon. It is to William Wilberforce that we may say we owe-not only we, but all mankind-the abolition of slavery."

Tremendous applause.

"I don't know how many years this grand gentleman worked for it-worked and fought for it. He was beat over and over again in the House of Commons and the House of Lords, but he stuck to his guns, and on his death-bed he had the good news brought to him that the second reading of the Abolition of Slavery Bill was carried. He was a man, and every Englishman is proud of him. He was a man because he worked and fought on the side of humanity, and if any one here will propose that our club be called the 'Wilberforce Club' I don't think he could do a much better day's work."

Up jumped a dozen and proposed it, and the chairman conducted the question to an orderly issue. It was carried that the title of the institution should be the "Wilberforce Club." Then, pioneered by Mr. Bartholomew, other small matters of detail were discussed and settled. Present subscription of members, one penny per week, and the first week's subscription was paid into the hands of an elected treasurer. Sub-committees were appointed to form rules for the guidance of the club, and to look out for a suitable room in which to gather together. And then the meeting broke up, satisfied and gratified with the work it had done.

CHAPTER XXXII

From the day of its formation the Wilberforce Club had prospered, and although it could never boast of more than sufficient funds to carry out its modest requirements, the principal of which were books and newspapers, it had become in some sense a political power in the district. As was right, Mr. Bartholomew, to whom its existence was due, was elected its first president, a position which he filled for many years; but although he was still in vigor of life, he had resolved to retire from the office, and, in spite of all attempts to induce him to withdraw his resignation, he insisted that it was time a new president should be appointed.

"You want new blood, my lads," he said; "you might as well have a king over you as a president who reigns all the years of his life. A stirring up of the waters is good for the people. If the new man doesn't work to your satisfaction I will take office again, perhaps. The vacation will rub the rust off me."

It was, therefore, for the purpose of choosing another president that the Wilberforce Club mustered in full force. It was bruited about, and indeed known to some few, that there was a likelihood of the introduction of a personal matter at the meeting which might prove exciting and interesting. Mr. Bartholomew had found it no easy task to keep well in hand a strong and full-blooded team such as the members of this working-man's club. Boys with ideas, and with a fresher and more advanced kind of education than their parents had received, had grown to be men, and were playing their part at the club meetings and in the social gatherings; and to this younger element the prospect of a change in the direction of affairs was not unpalatable. Upon Mr. Bartholomew the necessity of keeping a tight hand upon these youthful members, whose ideas were apt to run ahead of the times, had frequently impressed itself.

There were two candidates for the presidency. One was Mr. Richard Chappel, who had taken part in the initiatory meeting at which the club was constituted. He was then somewhat of a timid orator, but he was an apt scholar, and was now fully competent to conduct working-men's meetings. He was fairly popular, and had many supporters. The other candidate was Kingsley Manners, who was popular, and a favorite with all the members of the Wilberforce Club. By some he was considered not strict or strong enough to lead, but a good proportion of those who entertained this notion had determined to support him. It was not of his own wish that he had come forward for the office. He had been proposed by a powerful section who believed that through him it could work its own ends. The backbone of this section were the young members, who were always ready to take a foremost part in any agitation-such as entertainments, in the heart of which lurked some political object: processions against, or in favor of, some measure which was then being discussed in the House of Commons; the right of public meeting in public places, and so forth. These ambitious and hot-blooded members had been kept in moderate subjection by Mr. Bartholomew, and now rejoiced in the prospect of a president of less force of character.

Nansie's uncle, Mr. Loveday, was also a member of the Wilberforce. He had joined it at Nansie's solicitation, who was in anxiety lest Kingsley, through his easy nature, should be prevailed upon to take part in some violent movement. Mr. Loveday's reports to her had removed this cause of alarm.

"Kingsley does no harm at the club," he said; "it is an amusement and a relaxation to him. He knows that he is liked by all the members, and the knowledge affords him pleasure; and he obtains there books and papers which occupy his mind, and which otherwise would be out of his reach."

Kingsley's candidature for the presidency had, however, seriously discomposed Mr. Loveday. He saw beneath the surface, and suspected that Kingsley was simply put forward to assist the views of others.

Mr. Bartholomew opened the proceedings.

"You know," he said, "what we are met to decide. This is the last occasion-at least, for some time-upon which I shall take the chair at the gatherings of the Wilberforce; but that will not lessen my interest in its welfare, and I shall work quite as hard and earnestly as a soldier in the ranks as I have done in the position of your chief. Now, I want to give you a little bit of advice. Times are different from when this club was first started; men and opinions are more advanced; there is a better kind of education going on in the land, and people who, under the old ways, would never have learned to read and write can now do both very well. But I want to warn you. It's a good thing to be able to read and write, but it's a better thing to be able to profit by these advantages. Go ahead we must; the onward march cannot be stopped; but beware of going ahead too fast. Slow and sure is a motto I was not very fond of when I was a young man, but I have learned its value since, especially in such movements as ours. There is no telling what changes the next fifty years may see; in my opinion they will be more startling than any that has gone before; but in order that these changes shall be for the real benefit of the people-that is to say, of us-it will be necessary to look before we leap. Now, I am not going to particularize; I am speaking in a general sense. There are individual instances of wrong with which I sympathize as much as any of you can do, but I don't intend to make any such instance a ground for general action. What we have to attend to is the interest and prosperity of ourselves as a body. According to the rules, you are now to elect a president for the year. You have done me the honor of re-electing me again and again for a number of years, and I believe I have given you satisfaction. I hope that our new president will work as I have done-for the general good of all."

Mr. Bartholomew having resumed his seat, a member rose to propose Mr. Richard Chappel as president. He was duly seconded, and then another member proposed Mr. Kingsley Manners, who was also seconded. There being no other candidates, the aspirants for office addressed the meeting:

"I propose," said Mr. Chappel, "to tread in the footsteps of our late worthy president, Mr. Bartholomew. I quite agree with him in all his opinions, and all he has done. More haste, less speed. We have never been in a hurry, and we have done a good deal since we started. In elections we have made ourselves a bit of a power, and the reason of this is that we have always seen where we were going to fix our nails; we have not knocked them wildly about, and made holes in wrong places. If you elect me as your president, I will do the best I can in the office."

"Good," said Mr. Bartholomew.

"Good," also said and thought many of the elder members; but the younger ones looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Richard Chappel promises nothing," said one, starting up.

"What do you want him to promise?" asked Mr. Bartholomew; and, as young Hotblood could not exactly say, he sat down abashed, but in no wise satisfied.

"That is it," said Mr. Bartholomew; "and I should like you to bear it in mind. I don't wish to influence you, nor to say a word against Mr. Kingsley Manners, who is a favorite with all of us; but as a common member of the club I am entitled, as every other common member is, to express my opinion upon this subject. Here is a candidate for office, Mr. Richard Chappel, who pledges himself, if elected, to govern the club in the same way that it has hitherto been governed; and here is one of our members jumping up and saying that he promises nothing. To that I reply that Richard Chappel promises a great deal. He promises to do everything that is constitutional; he promises to act for the benefit of the club, as I have acted. If that doesn't satisfy you, I don't know what will. Mind, I'm not saying one word against Mr. Manners; I respect and like him, but I shall give my vote to Richard Chappel."

"Let us hear Mr. Manners," said a member.

Kingsley rose and addressed the meeting. He had for some little while past regarded this approaching event as of great importance, and had prepared himself for it. He said he was in favor of public meeting in all public spaces. He spoke strongly against the monopoly of brewers and distillers. He advocated universal suffrage, and he characterized as infamous the neglect of sanitary laws in the dwellings of the people. The whole aim of government, he said, should be for the benefit of the many, and not of the few. There were old-time privileges which, perhaps, could not be suddenly abolished, but to which, at all events, a limit should be set. He spoke for half an hour, and the tenor of his observations may be gathered from this brief description. When he sat down some were pleased, some were displeased, and some did not know exactly what to think.

"Mr. Manners," said Mr. Bartholomew, "has generalized almost as much as Richard Chappel."

"No," cried some of Kingsley's supporters; "there is a great difference between them."

"Let us hear and discuss," said Mr. Bartholomew; "it will open our minds."

"What does Richard Chappel say about universal suffrage?" asked a member.

Richard Chappel scratched his head. He had not given the subject that necessary consideration which enabled him to reply on the instant. Up jumped Mr. Bartholomew.

"I like that hesitation on Richard Chappel's part," he said. "Universal suffrage has bothered cleverer heads than any in this room."

"What do you say about it?" asked a bold member. Mr. Bartholomew laughed.

"I would give it to every man who has a right to it."

"Every man has a right to it!"

"No, no; there must be qualifications. The Reform Act did a lot for us, and a lot has been done since, and a lot more will be done in the future. There must be electoral qualification. Even in our little club here every man has not a right to become a member. The difference between some of us is this-we agree upon the main point, but we do not agree in the way of bringing it about. 'Go slow' is my motto."

"Yes," grumbled one, "and die before we reap."

"Perhaps," said Mr. Bartholomew, gravely. "But does that lessen the value of our work, which, I take it, lies greatly in its unselfishness? We look more to the future than to the present. We think of our children and of the benefits they will enjoy, benefits brought about by us who may not live to see the fruit."

Much discussion of a similar nature followed, and it seemed likely at one time that the result would be largely influenced by the private wrongs of a member who had resolved to take this opportunity of ventilating them, and had, indeed, been urged to that course by the more inflammatory spirits. His story was not an uncommon one, and may be narrated in a very few words. He was a working-man, of course, with one child, a daughter whom he idolized. This daughter, to his grief and despair, had left her home; and it was, the father said, a gentleman who had brought the shame upon them. The man was very eloquent in his description of the monstrous wrong. He did not know the name or the whereabouts of the villain who had inflicted it, and said that if he could find him he would strike him dead at his feet. Mr. Bartholomew was too wise to prevent the father from speaking, although he strongly disapproved of the intrusion of this private matter into the club business; but he saw that it had been prearranged, and was intended to influence the election in favor of Kingsley. As a prudent general, therefore, he proposed the adjournment of the meeting, which broke up in some slight confusion.

CHAPTER XXXIII

This meeting led to important results. It is by small and apparently trivial matters that the main issues of life are determined. A fall of rain, the plucking of a flower, the accidental turning to the right or the left-any one of these trifling incidents is sufficient to stamp the future with an indelible impress.

Parkinson was the name of the man whose daughter had been tempted from her home by the false wooing of a man in a superior station of life to her own; the daughter's name was Mary. The disclosure of this private wrong proved to be the most exciting incident in the proceedings of the Wilberforce Club on the night of the proposed election, and after the meeting broke up the grievance formed the subject of animated discussion all around the neighborhood. To feel and express sympathy for the father was humanly natural, but here and there this sympathy was expressed in an unreasoning and dangerous manner, and served as a peg-as was attempted at the Wilberforce-upon which to hang an ominous string of hardships as between class and class. Dr. Perriera, who had remained a firm and faithful friend to Nansie and her family, had just listened to certain outpourings of this nature mouthed by a trenchant demagogue to a small band of working-men and lads, among whom, also, was Mr. Loveday. These two more intelligent of the audience walked away together.

"It is remarkable," said Dr. Perriera, "to note the blindness of these ignorant orators to palpable facts. The way in which Mary Parkinson was brought up was enough to ruin any girl. A father at work all day and spending his nights at the Wilberforce Club. A mother dying when her daughter was twelve years of age, and leaving as a legacy to her child a recollection of frivolities. This was one of the reasons-perhaps the principal one-why Parkinson spent nearly all his leisure time away from his home. His wife had no notion of domestic duties, was a bad cook, and either would not or could not make his home attractive to him. Parkinson is a good and skilful workman, has never been ill a week in his life, has never been out of employment. This is an unusual record, but it has not benefited him. When his wife was alive she and he between them spent every penny of his earnings; she was fond of incongruous color in her dress, fond of mock jewelry, fond of aping the foolish fashions of her betters. She was fond of worse things-of music-halls and their brutalizing vulgarity. I am well aware that it is absolutely necessary to provide amusement for the people; without it life would be unendurable; but I have always been of the opinion, and experience has confirmed it, that amusement in a worse form than that provided by the music-hall could scarcely be devised. I speak of the entertainments as a whole. There are portions of them which are innocently amusing and healthful, but the most popular features are those which the exponents of coarseness and vulgarity provide. I had some opportunity of studying Mrs. Parkinson's character, and I know that it was this coarser element of the entertainments that attracted her. I frequently heard her singing verses of songs which, I regret to say, were and are popular, and the true meaning of which is an offence to decency. The mischief is that this moral poison is at the bottom of the cup; but it is well known to be there by everybody who partakes of it; and even when it is so cleverly veiled that it can only be conveyed by a motion or a gesture, this form of expression is carried away by the audience and used by them when they sing the song in private. It is to Parkinson's credit that he preferred the Wilberforce Club to the music-hall; but it is not to his credit that he left the entire social education and recreation of his daughter to one so unfitted for these duties as his wife. I would not make life too serious, but I refuse to excuse any person who ignores its responsibility. Parkinson allowed his wife to take their little Mary to the music-halls, and to implant in her nature a foundation of frivolity which has borne bad fruit; it could not be hoped that it would bear good."