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efficiency of one in producing power. Then he traced the development of
machinery and social organisation so that today the producing power of
civilised man was a thousand times greater than that of the savage.
'Five men,' he said, 'can produce bread for a thousand. One man can produce
cotton cloth for two hundred and fifty people, woollens for three hundred, and
boots and shoes for a thousand. One would conclude from this that under a
capable management of society modern civilised man would be a great deal
better off than the cave-man. But is he? Let us see. In the United States
today there are fifteen million8people living in poverty; and by poverty is
meant that condition in life in which, through lack of food and adequate
shelter, the mere standard of working efficiency cannot be maintained. In the
United States today, in spite of all your so-called labour legislation, there
are three millions of child labourers.9In twelve years their numbers have been
doubled.
And in passing I will ask you managers of society why you did not make public
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the census figures of 1910? And I will answer for you, that you were afraid.
The figures of misery would have precipitated the revolution that even now is
gathering.
'But to return to my indictment. If modern man's producing power is a
thousand times greater than that of the caveman, why then, in the United
States today, are there fifteen million people who are not properly sheltered
and properly fed? Why then, in the United States today, are there three
million child labourers? It is a true indictment. The capitalist class has
mismanaged. In face of the facts that modern man lives more wretchedly than
the cave-man, and that his producing power is a thousand times greater than
that of the cave-man, no other conclusion is possible than that the capitalist
class has mismanaged, that you have mismanaged, my masters, that you have
criminally and selfishly mismanaged. And on this count you cannot answer me
here tonight, face to face, any more than can your whole class answer the
million and a half of revolutionists in the United States. You cannot answer.
I challenge you to answer. And furthermore, I dare to say to you now that when
I have finished you will not answer. On that point you will be tongue-tied,
though you will talk wordily enough about other things.
'You have failed in your management. You have made a shambles of
civilisation. You have been blind and greedy. You have risen up (as you today
rise up), shamelessly, in our legislative halls, and declared that profits
were impossible without the toil of children and babes. Don't take my word for
it. It is all in the records against you. You have lulled your conscience to
sleep with prattle of sweet ideals and dear moralities. You are fat with power
and possession, drunken with success; and you have no more hope against us
than have the drones, clustered about the honey-vats, when the worker-bees
spring upon them to end their rotund existence. You have failed in your
management of society, and your management is to be taken away from you. A
million and a half of the men of the working class say that they are going to
get the rest of the working class to join with them and take the management
away from you. This is the revolution, my masters. Stop it if you can.'
For an appreciable lapse of time Ernest's voice continued to ring through the
great room. Then arose the throaty rumble I had heard before, and a dozen men
were on their feet clamouring for recognition from Colonel Van Gilbert. I
noticed Miss Brentwood's shoulders moving convulsively, and for the moment I
was angry, for I thought that she was laughing at Ernest. And then I
discovered that it was not laughter, but hysteria. She was appalled by what
she had done in bringing this firebrand before her blessed Philomath Club.
Colonel Van Gilbert did not notice the dozen men, with passion-wrought faces,
who strove to get permission from him to speak. His own face was
passion-wrought. He sprang to his feet, waving his arms, and for a moment
could utter only incoherent sounds. Then speech poured from him. But it was
not the speech of a one-hundred-thousand-dollar lawyer, nor was the rhetoric
old-fashioned.
'Fallacy upon fallacy!' he cried. 'Never in all my life have I heard so many
fallacies uttered in one short hour. And besides, young man, I must tell you
that you have said nothing new. I learned all that at college before you were
born. Jean Jacques Rousseau enunciated your socialist theory nearly two
centuries ago. A return to the soil, forsooth! Reversion! Our biology teaches
the absurdity of it. It has been truly said that a little learning is a
dangerous thing, and you have exemplified it tonight with your madcap
theories. Fallacy upon fallacy! I was never so nauseated in my life with
overplus of fallacy. That for your immature generalisations and childish
reasoning!'
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He snapped his fingers contemptuously and proceeded to sit down. There were
lip-exclamations of approval on the part of the women, and hoarser notes of
confirmation came from the men. As for the dozen men who were clamouring for
the floor, half of them began speaking at once. The confusion and babel was
indescribable. Never had Mrs Pertonwaithe's spacious walls beheld such a
spectacle. These, then, were the cool captains of industry and lords of
society, these snarling, growling savages in evening clothes. Truly Ernest had
shaken them when he stretched out his hands for their money-bags, his hands
that had appeared in their eyes as the hands of the fifteen hundred thousand
revolutionists.
But Ernest never lost his head in a situation. Before Colonel Van Gilbert had
succeeded in sitting down, Ernest was on his feet and had sprung forward.
'One at a time!' he roared at them.
The sound arose from his great lungs and dominated the human tempest. By
sheer compulsion of personality he commanded silence.
'One at a time,' he repeated softly. 'Let me answer Colonel Van Gilbert.
After that the rest of you can come at me but one at a time, remember. No
mass-plays here. This is not a football field.
'As for you,' he went on, turning towards Colonel Van Gilbert, 'you have
replied to nothing I have said. You have merely made a few excited and
dogmatic assertions about my mental calibre. That may serve you in your
business, but you can't talk to me like that. I am not a working man, cap in
hand, asking you to increase my wages or to protect me from the machine at
which I work. You cannot be dogmatic with truth when you deal with me. Save
that for dealing with your wage-slaves. They will not dare reply to you
because you hold their bread and butter, their lives, in your hands.
'As for this return to Nature that you say you learned at college before I
was born, permit me to point out that on the face of it you cannot have
learned anything since. Socialism has no more to do with the state of Nature
than has differential calculus with a Bible class. I have called your class
stupid when outside the realm of business. You, sir, have brilliantly
exemplified my statement.'
This terrible castigation of her hundred-thousand-dollar lawyer was too much
for Miss Brentwood's nerves. Her hysteria became violent, and she was helped, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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