North and South

what yo’ thought was a right way o’ thinking⁠—did yo’ begin by calling ’em fools and suchlike, or didn’t yo’ rayther give ’em such kind words at first, to make ’em ready for to listen and be convinced, if they could; and in yo’r preaching, did yo’ stop every now and then, and say, half to them and half to yo’rsel,’ ‘But yo’r such a pack o’ fools, that I’ve a strong notion it’s no use my trying to put sense into yo’?’ I were not i’ th’ best state, I’ll own, for taking in what Hamper’s friend had to say⁠—I were so vexed at the way it were put to me;⁠—but I thought, ‘Come, I’ll see what these chaps has got to say, and try if it’s them or me as is th’ noodle.’ So I took th’ book and tugged at it; but, Lord bless yo’, it went on about capital and labour, and labour and capital, till it fair sent me off to sleep. I ne’er could rightly fix i’ my mind which was which; and it spoke on ’em as if they was vartues or vices; and what I wanted for to know were the rights o’ men, whether they were rich or poor⁠—so be they only were men.”

“But for all that,” said Mr. Hale, “and granting to the full the offensiveness, the folly, the unchristianness of Mr. Hamper’s way of speaking to you in recommending his friend’s book, yet if it told you what he said it did, that wages find their own level, and that the most successful strike can only force them up for a moment, to sink in far greater proportion afterwards, in consequence of that very strike, the book would have told you the truth.”

“Well, sir,” said Higgins, rather doggedly; “it might, or it might not. There’s two opinions go to settling that point. But suppose it was truth double strong, it were no truth to me if I couldna take it in. I daresay there’s great truth in yon Latin book on your shelves; but it’s gibberish and not truth to me, unless I know the meaning o’ the words. If yo’, sir, or any other knowledgable, patient man comes to me, and says he’ll larn me what the words mean, and not blow me up if I’m a bit stupid, or forget how one thing hangs on another⁠—why, in time I may get to see the truth of it; or I may not. I’ll not be bound to say I shall end in thinking the same as any man. And I’m not one who think truth can be shaped out in words, all neat and clean, as th’ men at th’ foundry cut out sheet-iron. Same bones won’t go down wi’ everyone. It’ll stick here i’ this man’s throat, and there i’ t’others. Let alone that, when down, it may be too strong for this one, too weak for that. Folk who sets up to doctor th’ world wi’ their truth, mun suit different for different minds; and be a bit tender i’ th’ way of giving it too, or the poor sick fools may spit it out i’ their faces. Now Hamper first gi’es me a box on my ear, and then he throws his big bolus at me, and says he reckons it’ll do me no good, I’m such a fool, but there it is.”

“I wish some of the kindest and wisest of the masters would meet some of you men, and have a good talk on these things; it would, surely, be the best way of getting over your difficulties, which, I do believe, arise from your ignorance⁠—excuse me, Mr. Higgins⁠—on subjects which it is for the mutual interests of both masters and men should be well understood by both. I wonder”⁠—(half to his daughter), “if Mr. Thornton might not be induced to do such thing?”

“Remember, papa,” said she in a very low voice, “what he said one day⁠—about governments, you know.” She was unwilling to make any clearer allusion to the conversation they had held on the mode of governing workpeople⁠—by giving men intelligence enough to rule themselves, or by a wise despotism on the part of the master⁠—for she saw that Higgins had caught Mr. Thornton’s name, if not the whole of the speech: indeed, he began to speak of him.

“Thornton! He’s the chap as wrote off at once for these Irishers; and led to th’ riot that ruined th’ strike. Even Hamper wi’ all his bullying, would ha’ waited a while⁠—but it’s a word and a blow wi’ Thornton. And, now, when th’ Union would ha’ thanked him for following up th’ chase after Boucher, and them chaps as went right again our commands, it’s Thornton who steps forrard and coolly says that, as th’ strike’s at an end, he, as party injured, doesn’t want to press the charge again the rioters. I thought he’d ha’ carried his point, and had his revenge in an open way; but says he (one in court telled me his very words) ‘they are well known; they will find the natural punishment of their conduct, in the difficulty they will meet wi’ in getting employment. That will be severe enough.’ I only wish they’d cotched Boucher, and had him up before Hamper. I see th’ oud tiger setting on him! would he ha’ let him off? Not he!”

“Mr. Thornton was right,” said Margaret. “You are angry against Boucher, Nicholas; or else you would be the first to see, that where the natural punishment would be severe enough for the offence, any farther punishment would be something like revenge.”

“My daughter is no great friend of Mr. Thornton’s,” said Mr. Hale, smiling at Margaret; while she, as red as any carnation, began to work with double diligence, “but I believe what she says is the truth. I like him for it.”

“Well, sir, this strike has been a weary bit o’ business to me; and yo’ll not wonder if I’m