The Mutable Many

Front matter

BY THE SAME AUTHOR In the Midst of Alarms A Woman Intervenes In a Steamer Chair From Whose Bourne BY ROBERT BARR ' For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them Regard me as I do not flatter, and Therein behold themselves' CORIOLANUS METHUEN & CO. 36 ESSEX STREET, W.C. LONDON O^foro HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY ye? He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Where foxes, geese : you are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead And hews down oaks with rushes.

Hang ye ! Trust With every minute you do change a mind, And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland. CORIOLANUS B 1 THE MUTABLE MANY

Chapter I

The business offices of Messrs. Monkton and Hope's great factory literally hung between heaven and earth. Heaven, from this point of view, consisted of a brood ing London fog, hovering a hundred feet above the city, hesitating to fall ; while earth was represented by a sticky, black-cindered factory-yard, bearing the imprint of many scores of boots. The offices were built between the two huge blocks known as the ' Works.' The situation had evidently been an after-thought, for this addition was constructed of wood and glass ; while the two great buildings which were thus joined together, like Siamese twins of industry, were of brick. Although no architect had ever foreseen the erection of such a structure between the two buildings, yet necessity, the mother of inven tion, had given birth to what the manager of the factory always asserted to be the most conveniently situated offices in London.

More and more room had been required in the big buildings as business increased, and the offices — the soul of a vibrating mass of energetic mechanism — had, as it were, to take up a position outside the body. The addition, then, hung over the roadway which ran between the two buildings ; it commanded a view of both front and back yards, and had, therefore, more light and air than the office which John Sartwell, the manager aforesaid, had formerly occupied in the left hand building. Its unique situation caused it to be, to a large extent, free from the pulsation produced by the machinery ; and as a door led into each wing of the Works, the offices gave easy access to both. Sart well was very proud of these rooms and their position, for they were of his planning, and he had thus given the firm much additional space, with no more ground occupied than had been occupied before— a most desirable consideration in a crowded city like London.

Two rooms at the back were set apart for the two members of the firm, while Sartwell's office in front was twice the size of either partner's room, and ex tended across the whole space between the two buildings. This was as it should be, for Sartwell did double the amount of work the owners of the business accomplished ; and, if it came to that, had twice the brain-power of the two members of the firm combined, who were there simply because they were the sons of their fathers. The founders of the firm had, with hard work and shrewd management, established the large manufactory, but its present prosperity was due to Sartwell, and not to the men whose names were known to the public as the heads of the business. Monkton and Hope were timid, cautious, somewhat irresolute men, as capitalists should be all the world over.

They had unbounded confidence in their manager, and generally shifted any grave responsibility or unpleasant decision to his shoulders, which bore the burdens placed upon them with equanimity. Sartwell was a man of iron, with firm, resolute lips, and steely-blue eyes of a sort that were most discon certing to any one who had something not quite straight to propose. Even the two partners quailed under these eyes, and gave way before them if it came to a con flict of opinion. Sartwell's rather curt ' It won't do, you know,' always settled things. Sartwell knew infinitely more about the works than they did ; for while they had been at college, the future manager was working his way up into the confidence of their fathers, and every step he took advanced his position in the factory. The three men were as nearly as possible of the same age, and the hair of each was tinged with grey ; Sartwell's, perhaps, more than the others.

It is difficult to think of love in conjunction with the two partners, yet it is pleasing to know that when love did come to them at the proper time of life, it arrived with gold and a rigid Nonconformist conscience. The two had thus added wealth to wealth by marrying ; and, as their wives were much taken up with deeds of goodness, done only after strict and conscientious investigation, so that the unworthy might not benefit, and as both Monkton and Hope were somewhat timorous men who were bound to be ruled by the women they married, some of their wealth found its way into the coffers of struggling societies and organizations for the relieving of distress. Thus there came to impregnate the name of Monkton and Hope (Limited) a certain odour of sanctity which is most unusual in business circles in London.

The firm, when once got at, could be counted on for a subscription almost with certainty ; but alas ! it was not easy to get at the firm. The applicant had to come under the scrutiny of those searching eyes of Sartwell's, which had a perturbing habit of getting right at the heart of a matter with astonishing quickness ; and when once he said, ' It won't do, you know,' there was no going behind the verdict. A private stair-way led from the yard below to the hall in the suspended building, which divided the large b a office of the manager from the two smaller private rooms of the firm. This stair-way was used only by the three men. The clerks and the public came in by the main entrance, where a watchful man sat behind a little, arched, open window, over which was painted the word ' Inquiries.' Outside in the gloom the two great lamps over the gate-posts flared yellow light down on the cindery roadway and into the narrow street beyond.

Through the wide-open gateway into the narrow stone-paved street poured hundreds of working-men. There was no jostling, and they went out silently, which was unusual. It seemed as if something hovered over them even more depressing than the great fog-cloud above their heads. Sartwell, alone in his office, stood somewhat back from the window, unseen ; and watched their exit grimly, sternly. The lines about his firm mouth tightened his lips into more than their customary rigidity. He noticed that now and then a workman cast a glance at the windows ; and he knew they cursed him in their hearts as standing between them and acquiescence in their demands, for they were well aware that the firm would succumb did Sartwell but give the word. The manager knew that at their meetings their leader had said none was so hard on working-men as a workman who had risen from the ranks.

Sartwell's name had been hissed, while the name of the firm had been cheered ; but the manager was not to be deterred by unpopularity, although the strained relations between the men and himself gave him good cause for anxiety. As he thought over the situation, and searched his mind to find whether he himself were to blame in any way, there was a rap at the door. He turned quickly away from the window, stood by his desk, and said sharply, ' Come in.' There entered a young man in workman's dress, with his cap in his hand. His face was frank, clear cut, and intelligent ; and he had washed it when his work was done — a weakness not indulged in by the majority of his companions. ' Ah, Marston,' said the manager, his brow clearing when he saw who it was. ' Did you get that job done in time? ' ' It was off before half-past five, sir.' ' Right.

Were there any obstacles thrown in your way? ' 'None that could not be surmounted, sir.' ' Right, again. That's the way I like to have things done. The man who can accomplish impossibilities is the man for me, and the man who gets along in this world.' The young fellow turned his cap over and over in his hands, and, although he was evidently pleased with the commendation of the manager, he seemed embarrassed. At last he said, hesitatingly, — ' I am very anxious to get on in the world, sir.' ' Well, you may have an opportunity shortly,' replied the manager. Then he suddenly shot the question : ' Are you people going to strike ? ' ' I'm afraid so, sir.' ' Why do you say afraid ? Are you going out with the others, or do you call your soul your own ? ' ' A man cannot fight the Union single-handed.' ' You are talking to one who is going to.' The young man looked up at the manager. ' With you it is different,' he said. ' You are backed by a wealthy company.

Whether you win or lose, your situation is secure. If I failed the Union in a crisis, I could never get another situation.' Sartwell smiled grimly when Marston mentioned the firm. He knew that there lay his weakness rather than his strength ; although the firm had said he was to have a free hand, he was certain the moment the contest became bitter Monkton and Hope would be panic-stricken. Then, if the women interfered, the battle was as good as lost. Had the strikers known on which side their bread was buttered they would have sent a delegation of their wives to Mrs. Monkton and Mrs. Hope. But they did not know this, and Sartwell was not the man to show the weakness of his hand. ' Yes,' said the manager, ' I have the entire confi dence of Mr. Monkton and of Mr. Hope. I wonder if the men appreciate this fact ? ' ' Oh yes, sir, they know that.' ' Now, Marston, have you any influence with the men ? ' ' Very little, I'm afraid, sir.' ' If you have any, now is the time to exert it ; for their sakes, you know, not for mine.

The strike is bound to fail. Nevertheless, I don't forget a man who stands by me.' Marston shook his head. ' If my comrades go, I'll go with them. I am not so sure that the strike is bound to fail, although I am against it. The Union is very strong, Mr. Sartwell. Perhaps you do not know that it is the strongest Union in London.' The manager allowed his hand to hover for a moment over a nest of pigeon-holes, then he drew out a paper and gave it to Marston. ' There is the strength of the Union,' he said. ' Down to the £17 8j. id. they put in the bank yester day afternoon. If you want any information about your Union, Marston, I shall be happy to oblige you with it.' The young man opened his eyes widely as he looked at the figures. ' It is a very large sum,' he said. 'A respectable fighting fund,' remarked Sartwell, impartially. ' But how many Saturdays do you think it would stand the drain of the pay-roll in this esta blishment ? ' ' Not very many, perhaps.' ' It would surprise you to know how few.

The men look at one side of this question only, while I am compelled to look at both sides. If on any Saturday their pay were not forthcoming, they would not be pleased, would they? Now I have to scheme and plan so that the money is here every Saturday, and, besides, there must be enough more to pay the firm for its investment and its risk. These little details may not seem important to a demagogue who knows nothing of business, but who can harangue a body of men and make them dissatisfied. I should be well pleased to give him my place here for a month or two while I took a rest, and then we would see whether he thought there was anything to be observed from my point of view.' ' Mr. Sartwell,' said Marston, looking suddenly at the manager. ' Some of the moderate men asked me to-night a similar question to one of yours.' ' What question was that ? ' ' They asked if I had any influence with you.' ' Yes ?

And you told them ? ' ' That I didn't know.' 'Well, you will never know until you test the matter. Have you anything to suggest ? ' ' Many are against a strike, but even the more moderate think you are wrong in refusing to see the delegation. They think the refusal seems high-handed, and say that if you were compelled to reject any requests made, you ought not to let things come to a crisis without at least allowing the delegation to present the men's case.' ' And do you think I am wrong in this ? ' 'I do.' ' Very well. I'll settle that in a moment. You get some of those men together, head the delegation yourself, I will make an appointment with you, and we will talk the matter over.' The young man did not appear so thoroughly satisfied with this prompt concession as might have been expected.

He made no reply for some moments, while the elder man looked at him critically, with his back against the tall desk. At last Marston spoke. ' I could not lead the deputation, being one of the youngest in the employ of the firm. The secretary of the Union is the leader the men have chosen.' ' Ah ! The secretary of the Union ! That is quite a different matter. He is not in our employ. I cannot allow outsiders to interfere in any business with which I am connected. I am always willing to receive our own men either singly or in deputation, and that is no small concession where so many are at work ; but if I am to open the office doors to the outside world — well, life is too short. For instance, I discuss these things with you, but I should decline to discuss them with any man who dropped in out of the street.' ' Yes, I see the difficulty ; but don't you think you might make a concession in this instance to avoid trouble ? ' ' It wouldn't be avoiding trouble ; it would merely be postponing it.

It would form a precedent, and I should have this man or that interfering time and again. I should have to make a stand sooner or later, perhaps when I was not so well prepared. If there is to be a fight, I want it now. We need some new machinery, and could do with a week's shut-down.' Marston shook his head. ' The shut-down will be for longer than a week,' he said. ' I know that. The strike will last exactly three weeks. A month from now there will be no Union.' ' Perhaps there will also be no factory.' ' You mean there is danger of violence ? Very well. In that case the strike will last but a fortnight. You see, my boy, we are in London, and there are not only the police within a moment's call, but at the back of them the soldiers, and at the back of the soldiers the whole British Empire.

Oh no, Marston, it won't do, you know, it won't do.' ' The men are very determined, Mr. Sartwell.' ' All the better. I like a determined antagonist, for he knows when he's beaten, and so we get things settled once for all. I don't object to a square stand-up fight ; but eternal haggling and higgling and seeing deputations and arbitrators, and all that sort of thing, I cannot endure. Let us know where we are, and when that's clear let us get on with our work.' ' Then you have nothing to propose, Mr. Sartwell ? Nothing conciliatory, I mean.' ' Certainly I have. Let the men tell that blatant ass Gibbons to attend to his secretarial duties, and when a deputation from our own workshops comes up to see me, we'll discuss the situation. If they have any just grievance I will remedy it for them. What can be fairer than that ? ' ' It's got to be a matter of principle with the men now — that is, the inclusion of Gibbons has.

It means recognizing the Union.' ' Oh, I'll recognize the Union, and take off my hat to it — that is, so far as my own employes are concerned ; but I will not have an outsider, who knows nothing of this business, come up here and spout nonsense. It's a matter of principle with me as well as with the men.' Marston sighed. ' I'm afraid there's nothing for it then but a fight,' he said. ' Perhaps not. One fool makes many. Think well, Marston, on which side you are going to be in this fight. I left a Union, and although I was older than you are at the time, I never repented it. It kept me out of employment, but not for long ; and I was kept out of it in the very business of which I am now manager. The Union is founded on principles that won't do, you know. Any scheme which tends to give an inferior workman the same wages as a good work man is all wrong.' ' I don't agree with you, Mr. Sartwell.

The only hope for the working-man is in combination. Of course, we make mistakes, and are led away by demagogues, but some day there will be a strike led by an industrial Napoleon. Then we will settle things once for all, as you said a while ago.' Sartwell laughed and held out his hand. ' Oh, that's your ambition, is it ? Well, good luck attend you, my young Napoleon. I should have chosen Wellington, if I had been you. Good-night. I am expecting my daughter, and have no more time to spare.' Marston held the hand extended to him so long that the manager looked at him in astonishment. The colour had mounted from the young man's cheeks to his brow, and his eyes were on the floor. ' Mr. Sartwell,' he said, with an effort, ' I came to-night to speak to you about your daughter, and not about the strike.' The manager dropped the hand as if it had been red-hot, and stepped back two paces. 'About my daughter?' he cried, sternly. 'What do you mean?' Marston had to moisten his lips once or twice before he could reply.

His released hand opened and shut nervously. ' I mean,' he said, ' that I am in love with her.' The manager sat down in the office-chair beside his table. All the former friendliness had left his face, and his dark brows lowered over his keen eyes, into which their usual cold glitter had returned. ' What folly is this ? ' he cried, with rising anger. ' You are a boy, and may have risen from the gutter, for all I know. My daughter is but a child yet ; she is only ' He paused. He had been about to say 'seventeen,' when it occurred to him that he had married her mother when she was but a year older. Marston's colour became a deeper red when the manager spoke so contemptuously of the gutter. He said slowly, and with a certain doggedness in his tone, — ' It is no reproach to come from the gutter ; the reproach is in staying there.

I have left it, and I don't intend to return.' ' Oh, intend ! ' cried the manager, impatiently. " We all know what is paved with intentions. Why, you have never even spoken to the girl ! ' ' No, but I mean to.' ' Do you ? Well, I shall take very good care that you do not.' ' What have you against me, Mr. Sartwell ? ' ' What is there for you ? Perhaps you will kindly specify your qualifications.' ' You are very hard on me, Mr. Sartwell. You know that if I did come from the gutter, I have studied hard and worked hard. What education I have I gave to myself. Does that count for nothing ? I have a good character, and I have a good situa tion ' ' You have not. I discharge you. You will call at the office to-morrow, get your week's money, and go. ' 'Oh.' 'Yes, "Oh." You did not think that of me, did you ?' ' I did not.' ' Well, for once you are right.

I merely wish to show you that your good situation depends on the caprice of one man. I have no intention of discharging you. I am not so much afraid of you as that. I'll look after my daughter.' Marston said, bitterly, — ' Gibbons, ass as he is, is right when he says that no one is so hard on a workman as one who has risen from the ranks. You were no better off than I am, when you were my age.' Sartwell sprang to his feet, his eyes ablaze with anger. ' Pay attention, young man,' he cried. ' All the things you have done, I have done. All the things you intend to do, I have already done. I have, in a measure, educated myself, and I have worked hard night and day. I have attained a certain position, a certain responsibility, and have acquired a certain amount of money. I have had little pleasure and much toil in my life, and I am now growing old.

Yet as I look back, I see that there was as much luck as merit in my success. I was ready when the chance came ; that was all ; if the chance hadn't come, all my readiness would have done me little good. For one man who succeeds, a dozen, equally deserving, fail. Now, why have I gone through all this ? Why ? For myself? Not likely. I have done it so that my daughter may not be that tired drudge, a workman's wife — so that she may begin where I leave off. That's why. For myself, I would as soon wear a workman's jacket as a manager's coat. And now having gone through all this for her sake — you talk of love ! What is your love for her compared with mine? — When I have done all this that she may never know what want means, shall I be fool enough, knave enough, idiot enough, to thrust her back where I began, at the beck of the first mouthing ranter who has the impudence to ask for her?

No, by God, no! Now you have had your answer, get out, and don't dare to set foot in this office till you are sent for.' Sartwell, in his excitement, smote the desk with his clenched fist to emphasize his sentences. Marston shrank before his vehemence, realizing that no workman had ever seen the manager angry before, and he dreaded the resentment that would rise in Sartwell's heart when the coldness returned. He felt that it would have been more diplomatic if he had left sooner. Nevertheless, seeing that things could be no worse, he stood his ground. ' I thought,' he said, ' that it would be more honourable in me to let you know ' ' Don't talk to me of honour ! Get out.' At that moment the door from the private stair-way opened, and a young girl came in. Sartwell had completely forgotten his appointment with his daughter, and both men were taken aback by her entrance. 'I knocked, father,' she said, 'but you did not hear me.' 'In a moment, Edna.

Wait in the hall for a moment,' said her father, hurriedly. ' I beg of you not to leave, Miss Sartwell,' said Marston, going to the door and opening it. ' Good night, Mr. Sartwell.' ' Good-night,' said the manager, shortly. ' Good-night, Miss Sartwell.' ' Good-night,' said the girl, sweetly, with the suggestion of a bow. The eyes of the two men met for a moment ; in each challenging glance was the obstinacy of their race ; but the eyes of the younger man seemed to say defiantly : ' I have spoken to her, you see.'

Chapter II Men

speak of their individuality as if such a thing really existed — as if they were actually themselves, forgetting that all men are but the sum of various qualities belonging to ancestors, most of whom are dead, and gone, and forgotten. The shrewd business man in the City imagines that his keen instincts are all his own ; he does not recognize the fact that those attributes which enable him to form a joint-stock company, helped an ancestor of his in the Middle Ages to loot a town, or a highwayman of a later day to relieve a fellow-subject of a full purse on a lonely heath. Edna Sartwell possessed one visible, undeniable, easily recognized token of heredity; she had her father's eyes, but softened and luminous and dis turbingly beautiful ; eyes to haunt a man's dreams. They had none of the searching, rapier-like incisive ness which made her father's eyes weapons of offence and defence.

But they were his, nevertheless, with a kindly womanly difference ; and in that difference lived again the dead mother. ' Edna,' said her father, when they were alone, 'you must not come to this office again.' There was more of sharpness in his tone than he was accustomed to use toward his daughter, and she looked up at him quickly. ■4 ' Have I interrupted an important conference ? ' she asked. ' What did the young man want, father ? ' ' He wanted something which I was unable to grant.' ' Oh, I am sorry. He appeared so disappointed. Was it a situation? ' ' Something of the sort.' ' And why couldn't you give it to him ? Isn't he worthy ? ' ' No, no ! No, no ! ' ' He seemed to me to have such a good face — he looked honest and straightforward.' ' Good gracious, child, what do you know about faces ?

Do not interfere in business matters ; you don't understand them. Don't chatter, chatter, chatter. One woman who does that is enough in a family — as much as a man can stand.' The daughter became silent ; the father pigeon holed some papers, took them out again, rearranged them, and placed them back. He was regaining control over himself. He glanced at his daughter and saw tears in her eyes. ' There, there, Edna,' he said. ' It is all right. I'm a little worried to-night, that's all. I'm afraid there's going to be trouble with the men. It is a difficult situation, and I have to deal with it alone. A strike seems inevitable, and one never can tell where it will end.' 'And is he one of the strikers? It seems im possible.' A look of annoyance swept over her father's face. ' He ? Why the Edna, you return to a subject with all the persistency of a woman.

Yes. He will doubtless go on strike to-morrow with all the rest of the fools. He is a workman, if you want to know ; and furthermore he is going on strike when he doesn't believe in it — going merely because the others go. He admitted as much to me shortly before you came in. So you see how little you are able to read in a man's face.' 'I shouldn't have thought it,' said the girl, with a sigh. 'Perhaps if you had given him what he wanted he would not go on strike.' ' Oh, now you are making him out worse than even I think him. I don't imagine he is bribable, you know.' ' Would that be bribery? ' ' Suspiciously like it ; but he can strike or not as he wishes — one more or less doesn't matter to me. I hope if they go, they will go in a body ; a few remaining would only complicate things. Now that you understand all about the situation, are you satisfied?

It isn't every woman I would discuss it with, you know, so you ought to be flattered.' Sartwell was himself once more, and he was mentally resolving not to be thrown off his guard again. ' Yes, father, thank you,' said the girl. ' The cab is waiting,' she added, more to let him know that, so far as she was concerned, the discussion was ended, than to impart the information conveyed in her words. ' Let it wait. That's what cabs are for. The cabby usually likes it better than hurrying. Sit down a moment, Edna. I'll be ready presently.' The girl sat down beside her father's table. Usually, Mr. Sartwell preferred his desk to his table, for the desk was tall, where a man stands when he writes. This desk had three compartments, with a lid to each. These were always locked, and Sartwell's clerks had keys for two of them.