CHAPTER V THE EMPLOYED PERSON

The English are a nation of employed persons. Wherever you go, from Berwick to Land's End, you will find that in the main the men you meet are somebody's employees. The better kind of them possibly write "manager" on their cards; some of them even are managing directors; others, again, are partners in wealthy houses or heads of such houses. Yet, as I have said, they strike you almost to a man as being in somebody's employment. Even the most prosperous of them have the strained, repressed, furtive look which comes of the long turning of other people's little wheels; while the masses, the employed English masses, give you, as regards appearance, physique, and habit of[Pg 38] mind alike, an excellent notion of what a galley-slave must have been. The fact of being employed is indeed the only big and abiding fact in the average Englishman's life. It has its effect on the whole man from the time of his youth to the time of his death; it influences his actions and the trend of his thoughts to a far greater extent than any other force—love and religion included. In the Englishman's view, to be employed is the only road to subsistence, and, if one be ambitious, the only road to honour. He must work for somebody, otherwise he cannot be happy. The notion of working for himself appals him; and if by any chance he be persuaded to take the plunge, the consideration that he has no master weighs so heavily upon him that his end is usually speedy ruin of one sort or another. That is to say, he either takes advantage of his freedom to the extent of doing no work at all, or, in the absence of the guiding hand, he loses his judgment and throws to the winds the caution that kept him his place. It is a pity, there can be no[Pg 39] doubt; but the thing is in the English blood. If you are an Englishman, you must be employed; if you are unemployed, you are unhappy, and worse. For a full century the rich merchants, enterprising manufacturers, colliery-owners, mill-owners, and what not, in whom the English put their trust, have been preaching and fomenting this doctrine by every means in their power. To their aid in spreading the glorious truth they have brought the moralists and the Churches: "'if a man will not work, neither shall he eat.' 'Servants, obey your masters.' Punctuality is the soul of business. Be faithful over a few things. Begin at the bottom rung of the ladder. Mr. So-and-so, the notorious billionaire, was once a poor working-boy in Manchester. Furthermore, if you don't work and at our price—well, to say the least of it, God will not love you."

And the English—poor bodies!—carry on their lives accordingly. The whole scheme of things is arranged to fit in with the ideas of employers as to what work means, under[Pg 40] what conditions it should be performed, and what should be its rewards. To live in the manner pronounced to be respectable by the moralists and the Churches, you must take upon yourself exactly the labours, and no others, prescribed by the employers. In other words, to keep an eight-roomed house with a piano in it, a wife with blouses and four new hats a year, and a little family who can go to church on Sunday mornings dressed as well as any of them, you must keep Messrs. Reachemdown's books, and pass through your hands many thousands of Messrs. Reachemdown's moneys, for a salary of ￡150 a year. When you get old and half blind through years of poring over Reachemdown's figures, they will pension you off at a pound a week, and get a younger man to do the work for the other ￡2. You, good, easy Englishman, will, in your heart of hearts, be exceedingly grateful to Reachemdown & Reachemdown, and count it not the least of your many blessings that you have never wanted good work and kind employers. You[Pg 41] will say to your English son, "My boy, make up your mind to serve people well, and in your old age they will never forget you. Always be industrious, obliging, and respectful. Remember that a rolling stone gathers no moss, and never forsake the substance for the shadow." And the chances are that your fine English boy will do exactly what you, his fine English father, have done. Indeed, if he be old enough at the time of your "retirement," he might very appropriately take your place at Reachemdown & Reachemdown's; then he will marry, he will live in a house with a piano in it, his wife will have four new hats a year, and his children will go to church on Sundays as well dressed as any of them.

On the whole, I should be sorry to say that this sort of thing was not desirable. If a nation is to be great, it is essential that it should contain a large body of workers, and the more industrious and dependable and trustworthy that body of workers, the better it is for the State and for the pillars and props[Pg 42] of the State, the employers included. But the point is that the English take too much credit for it and get too much ease out of it. It has been complained by Mr. Crosland and other masters of elegant English that the Scot goes to London and the smaller industrial markets and there enters into successful competition with the English employed, and it appears to annoy Mr. Crosland that the Scot should not be content with good work, say book-keeping from nine to six, good wages, say ￡150 per annum, and kind employers, say Messrs. Reachemdown & Reachemdown, all his life. It seems to annoy him, too, that the Scot never acquires that pathetic satisfaction in being employed which permeates the beautiful spirit of his English competitor. You will meet hoary and bald-headed Englishmen who will tell you with a quaver that they have been in the employment of one and the same house, man and boy, for over half a century, sir! Somehow the Englishman tells you this with a look of pride, and rather expects you to regard him[Pg 43] as a sort of marvel. It never occurs to him that he is really bragging of his own ineptitude,—to use Mr. Crosland's favourite abstraction,—his own lack of enterprise. The number of Scots who have been in the employment of one house for forty years, least of all the number of Scots who brag about it, is probably not a round dozen. As a general rule, when a Scot has been in a house forty years, it is his house.

Another matter in which the English employee appears to me to err mightily is his treatment of his employer. In concerns of great magnitude personal relations between employer and employed are often impossible, because the employer seldom comes near the place where his money is made for him. Quite frequently, however, he is accessible; yet the employee knows him not. He would no more think of walking up and shaking hands with him than he would think of casting himself from the top of the factory chimney-stack. It is the unwritten law of the English that the employer is a better man[Pg 44] than the employed. For the employee to say "How do!" to the employer; for the employee to meet the employer in the street and omit to make respectful obeisances; for the employee to assert anywhere outside his favourite pot-house that Jack's as good as his master, would never do. If you are paid wages, you must be grateful and respectful; and though you know quite well that your employer is paying you just as little as ever he can, you must still respect him. Broadly speaking, we manage these things better in Scotland; and, for that matter, the Scot manages them better in England. The English employee quirks and crawls before his employer, because he knows that his employer can exercise over him powers which, if they do not mean exactly life and death, do mean a possibly long period of out-of-workness. And out-of-workness is, as a rule, the most fearful thing in life that can happen to an Englishman, for the simple reason that he never has anything behind him. If he has been earning fifty pounds a year, he has[Pg 45] spent it all; if he has been earning a thousand a year, he has spent it all and more to it. With the Scot it is different. No matter how small his earnings, he invariably contrives to save a portion of them. When he has saved a hundred pounds, he is practically an independent man, for a Scot with a hundred pounds at his disposal can defy, and can afford to defy, any employer that ever breathed the breath of life. Besides, hundred pounds or no hundred pounds, the Scot will not grovel. He does his work and his duty, and the rest can go hang. His days are not spent in blissful contemplation of the joys of being in good work; he has no anxieties as to how long it is going to last; he admits no superiorities; he is afraid of no man. Some day, perhaps, the Englishman will learn to take a leaf out of his book. The Englishman will learn that to be employed, excepting with a view to greater things than subsistence, is to be in a condition which borders very closely on degradation. He will learn that services rendered and energies[Pg 46] expended for long periods of years without adequate reward, and with only a pretence at advancement, are a discredit and not an honour. He will learn that a man's a man, and that it is no man's business to be so faithful to another man that he cannot be faithful to himself.