"It is not upon the manufacturers," cried a spinner at the meeting in Bolton, "that wages depend.In periods of depression the employers, so to speak, are only the lash with which necessity is armed; and whether they will or no, they have to strike.The regulative principle is the relation of supply to demand; and the employers have not this power....Let us act prudently, then; let us learn to be resigned to bad luck and to make the most of good luck: by seconding the progress of our industry, we shall be useful not only to ourselves, but to the entire country." [Applause.]
Very good: well-trained, model workmen, these! What men these spinners must be that they should submit without complaint to the lash of necessity, because the regulative principle of wages is supply and demand! M.Leon Faucher adds with a charming simplicity:
English workingmen are fearless reasoners.Give them a false principle, and they will push it mathematically to absurdity, without stopping or getting frightened, as if they were marching to the triumph of the truth.
For my part, I hope that, in spite of all the efforts of economic propagandism, French workingmen will never become reasoners of such power.Supply and demand, as well as the lash of necessity, has no longer any hold upon their minds.This was the one misery that England lacked: it will not cross the channel.
By the combined effect of division, machinery, net product, and interest, monopoly extends its conquests in an increasing progression; its developments embrace agriculture as well as commerce and industry, and all sorts of products.Everybody knows the phrase of Pliny upon the landed monopoly which determined the fall of Italy, latifundia perdidere Italiam.It is this same monopoly which still impoverishes and renders uninhabitable the Roman Campagna and which forms the vicious circle in which England moves convulsively; it is this monopoly which, established by violence after a war of races, produces all the evils of Ireland, and causes so many trials to O'Connell, powerless, with all his eloquence, to lead his repealers through this labyrinth.Grand sentiments and rhetoric are the worst remedy for social evils: it would be easier for O'Connell to transport Ireland and the Irish from the North Sea to the Australian Ocean than to overthrow with the breath of his harangues the monopoly which holds them in its grasp.
General communions and sermons will do no more: if the religious sentiment still alone maintains the morale of the Irish people, it is high time that a little of that profane science, so much disdained by the Church, should come to the aid of the lambs which its crook no longer protects.
The invasion of commerce and industry by monopoly is too well known to make it necessary that I should gather proofs: moreover, of what use is it to argue so much when results speak so loudly? E.Buret's description of the misery of the working-classes has something fantastic about it, which oppresses and frightens you.There are scenes in which the imagination refuses to believe, in spite of certificates and official reports.Couples all naked, hidden in the back of an unfurnished alcove, with their naked children; entire populations which no longer go to church on Sunday, because they are naked; bodies kept a week before they are buried, because the deceased has left neither a shroud in which to lay him out nor the wherewithal to pay for the coffin and the undertaker (and the bishop enjoys an income of from four to five hundred thousand francs); families heaped up over sewers, living in rooms occupied by pigs, and beginning to rot while yet alive, or dwelling in holes, like Albinoes; octogenarians sleeping naked on bare boards; and the virgin and the prostitute expiring in the same nudity: everywhere despair, consumption, hunger, hunger!..And this people, which expiates the crimes of its masters, does not rebel! No, by the flames of Nemesis! when a people has no vengeance left, there is no longer any Providence for it.
Exterminations en masse by monopoly have not yet found their poets.
Our rhymers, strangers to the things of this world, without bowels for the proletaire, continue to breathe to the moon their melancholy delights.
What a subject for meditations, nevertheless, is the miseries engendered by monopoly!
It is Walter Scott who says:
Formerly, though many years since, each villager had his cow and his pig, and his yard around his house.Where a single farmer cultivates today, thirty small farmers lived formerly; so that for one individual, himself alone richer, it is true, than the thirty farmers of old times, there are now twenty-nine wretched day-laborers, without employment for their minds and arms, and whose number is too large by half.The only useful function which they fulfil is to pay, when they can, a rent of sixty shillings a year for the huts in which they dwell.(2*)
A modern ballad, quoted by E.Buret, sings the solitude of monopoly:
Le rouet est silencieux dans la vallee:
C'en est fait des sentiments de famille.
Sur un peu de fumee le vieil aieul Etend ses mains pales; et le foyer vide Est aussi desole que son coeur.(3*)
The reports made to parliament rival the novelist and the poet:
The inhabitants of Glensheil, in the neighborhood of the valley of Dundee, were formerly distinguished from all their neighbors by the superiority of their physical qualities.The men were of high stature, robust, active, and courageous; the women comely and graceful.Both sexes possessed an extraordinary taste for poetry and music.Now, alas! a long experience of poverty, prolonged privation of sufficient food and suitable clothing, have profoundly deteriorated this race, once so remarkably fine.
