3188. Mr. Ewart.
] As it is, then, what happens? His dependents are cast upon the parish?—As it is, on my workings, he takes out insurance through me at 4d a week. And so we avoid all inquiry into negligence or liability. And I think that a better answer than throwing liability on the company.
3189. Sir Thomas Acland.
] Is this 4d a week compulsory to every man?—Only if he wants to work for me. (Laughter) There is a further stoppage of 6d for sick club and funeral benefits. That will pay 10
s
a week to any man sick or injured at work. A penny a week per man will go from that 6
d
to pay a doctor to attend. Which the doctors get whether called or no.
3190. Mr. Rich.
] Do the men not complain of this stoppage?—They administer the entire fund themselves, by committee. Before I gave them that administration, they complained frequently. But now they are most jealous of the right. All I do is maintain the accounts in proper order.
3191. Mr. Mangles.
] Do the doctors always come when called?—Like a genie from a bottle. The capitation, as we call it, may amount to 600
d
a week, or 120
l
a year.
3192. Lord Hamilton.
] I have heard of a doctor who left a titled patient to attend a navvy.—If the titled patient owed as much as many are reputed to owe, I find that not impossible. The benefits are great. On workings where there are no medical arrangements, I have seen men, still working, so eaten with smallpox that not an inch of fair skin could be found upon them.
3193. Sir Thomas Acland.
] What is your practise as to housing your men?—It varies greatly from place to place. On the York to Scarborough there was ample and good lodging to be had in the towns and villages beside the line. In South Devon that is also the case, though in the warmer weather men will sleep under hedges ("skipper it" as they say) to save 2
s
a week on lodging. I do not like it but cannot stop it.
3194. Viscount Barrington.
] Is 2
s
average for that class of lodging, taken over England as a whole?—ln general it is. But I have had married men and their wives, in North Wales, charged 8
s
and 10
s
for small rooms over shops in Rhyll, in the old and narrow part of the town. To remedy that, I bought trees from a farmer and made cabins on the colonial pattern. But last month I found an excellent builder of wooden houses, made in demountable sections, for colonial use. I believe this committee could profitably question him and see his plans, which would thereby get wide currency among contractors in general. It would alleviate much distress among railway labourers, for this trouble is wide spread.
3195. Chairman.
] What is his name?—It is Peter Thompson and he lives in Commercial Road here in London.
3196. Sir Thomas Acland.
] You do a great deal for your men, Mr. Stevenson.—I do. Listening to myself give evidence, it is a great deal more than I had thought. And, as I say, it goes against my true conviction, for in an idealized world, all men would be sober, honest, vigilant, thrifty, considerate, careful, and diligent. But as they are not, and as the itinerant nature of the work and the prevalence of bad employers hampers their development that way, I have to do for them what I know they ought to do for themselves. But it is self-interest compels me, and I think I see at least twice the profit per man that a bad master sees—despite the profit he gets on truck and tommy rot and on outright swindling.
3197. Chairman.
] Is there anything you wish to add to your
evidence to this committee?—Yes. I did not explain the system of payment for men subcontracted to me. The largest part of a railroad is simple tracklaying in shallow cuttings and small embankings. When I start a line, I will piece out these with my deputy and we will determine a rate for the work. But these simple pieces I am ready to give out to that class of labourer which prefers to work by the lump, as we say, than by the day. They form themselves into gangs and elect a leader to be their ganger. He will come to me and bargain for a lump of simple work. I will say 300
l
is my price; and he may say I think you are tight with me there; and I will say, well that is the price; and so we agree. (Laughter) I will yield a little if it later proves tight. Then I have no duty but to supervise the quality of the work and pay upon completion.
3198. Mr. Rich.
] Do they earn more by that way of working?—Very much so. It is worth it to me to be relieved of timekeeping and bookkeeping. If a day labourer takes from 18
s
to 22
s,
a man at the lump will, at the end of his time, take money equivalent to 25
s
to 32
s
weekly. Under my system only the provident man can work this way, for I give no subsistence to them and I permit no truck. So they must fend many weeks for themselves.
3199. Viscount Barrington.
] That is not so on others' workings?—By no means is it so. A bad contractor will let a lump go to a ganger at a very keen rate, usually much too keen. Then the ganger has to make by truck and by swindling what he cannot make by honest work. It is a pernicious system and very vexatious to those of us who try to live by fairer means.
3200.
What remedy do you propose?—As I understand the common law, a magistrate may distrain against goods when a ganger will not pay the agreed sum to his gang, but if the ganger has no goods, there is an end to the matter. I believe the law should be changed so as to allow magistrates to distrain against the person as well as against goods. These defaulting gangers would pay up if the alternative were prison; and they would not then be so reckless in accepting such very low piece rates.
3201.
Mr. Peto makes himself responsible for paying where gangers default. He believes all contractors should be made responsible.—I think it would not answer. Of course, on my workings I am the same as
Mr. Peto. I would pay any men whose ganger levanted and decamped. But he and I are men of enormous capital. And we give out lumps only to men of known good character, men who have been with us for years and have put money by and are on the way to becoming small capitalists themselves. I would think it a scandal if we did not make ourselves responsible. But it would be most burdensome for a smaller contractor who has not our opportunity to know these gangers or our resources to underwrite them.
3202. Chairman.
] In general, then, what is the sum of legislative changes you believe necessary?—I would favour the very minimum of legislative intervention. The law, as I see it, should balance out the advantages and disadvantages of master and servant, making no especial favour for either nor placing any unnatural bar in the way of either. It should, in short, be neither repressive of the servant nor paternal.
3203. Mr. Mangles.
] You say nothing of safety.—As to safety I will say this, with some diffidence: The many canals and highways associated with the name of Thomas Telford were built without the loss of a single life. The modest cost of a canal enabled companies to be patient as to completion. But the ruinous capital cost of a railway, which is exacerbated in this country, though not upon the Continent nor in America, by senseless competition and by outrageous payments for land (and lately by fevered speculation), this high cost, I say, enforces an unnatural speed to finish the line and set it to earning its profit. If your learned committee, my lord, can find a way to apply the French or American systems here, you will do more to promote safety among railway labourers than all the obligatory insurance or government inspectors you might muster.
3204.
You do not then think, as some have held, that unions, if they were formed among the labourers, would encourage safer working?— Unions put a permanent tyranny in place of one that is temporary. They do not suit the nature of railway work nor the spirit of the railway worker.
When Nora had finished reading this evidence she understood exactly what was making her so nervous about John and his behaviour toward Ireland—more than nervous, in fact, angry. There, in every word he had spoken, was all his humanity, all his wisdom, all that deep, unsentimental knowledge of human nature—the very qualities that had brought Lord George over the Irish Sea of a purpose to see him. So why did John only have to set foot on Irish soil to abandon even the most obvious commonsense notions of business and human nature? The country had allowed millions of people to slip beyond the reach of the monied system; they lived without trade, cash was no inducement to them, and lack of it was no discouragement. Until now. They lived on a food—the potato—that could be made almost as available as water. Until now. Their survival had seemed to mock the great natural laws that govern the wealth of nations. Until now.
Now those great laws were taking their delayed but inevitable course, and it could no more be prevented than the onset of winter. To pretend that it could was both arrogant and cruel—arrogant of oneself and cruel to those poor souls whose deaths were now about to show how wide the writ of economic law could run—and how deep.
And damn it,
she thought, remembering the winter before last at Thorpe,
who was it berated myself and the children for feeding all the birds
of the air!
She distrusted Bentinck too. Governments had no business meddling in trade. Ireland had more than enough private wealth to satisfy her need for railways. If the owners of that wealth preferred to invest it in Spanish or Austrian, or even Indian, railways instead, that was a clear message to the Irish that they were not offering enough of the right security. Let them stop their outrages—and their outrageous demands—and the capital would come falling out of the very thatch. There'd be no need for government subsidies then. The only thing such subsidies did was to prevent the people from ever learning the hard but unavoidable lessons of economic life.
Nora was well in steam by the time John returned. She congratulated him on his evidence to the select committee and asked him how his talk with Bentinck had gone.
"I told him all I knew about the Irish companies, and of the lines that, in my view, could he made profitably if they only had the capital."
"And did you also tell him that in your view the Tories have ruined this country with their protection and patronage? And that the last cure she needs is another dose of the same medicine?"
He laughed.
"I'm serious," she said.
"I know you are."
"Well? Did you?"
"I would have liked to. But we were not talking to that purpose." He could sense the anger in her silence. "However, I told him all the arguments that Russell and Wood and Trevelyan might muster against him, and…"
"And how to rebuff them, I suppose!" She threw up her hands in resigned disgust.
"It will mean money for Irish railroad building—which can certainly do us no harm."
She said nothing.
"Or do you think we can manage without?"
She turned to him, trying to stay calm, trying to keep the heat out of her voice. "Give a government a million to invest and their first thought is who do we owe a favour or who can we bind to us with a favour or where can we buy support or buy…"
"Or buy the public peace," John interrupted. "That's understood. Support for industries that cannot attract commercial capital is exactly that: buying peace. Like everything else, public order has its market price. No one is pretending otherwise."
"But that's just what they will do—pretend otherwise. They'll pretend it's charity—the soul of a Christian nation expressing itself. Such hypocrisy!"
His tolerant smile angered her even more than his argument. "What would you prefer? Let the ruffians know their disorder has a value in cash?"
"Of course not! But bring them to understand that peace and hard work do have such value. In the long run there can be no benefit to anyone in buying them off by unsound investment. If governments are to start pumping money into unprofitable business or unprofitable corners of the kingdom, they will end by impoverishing
all
business, impoverishing
all
the parts of the kingdom, and
all
the people. I say we should not take one step along that path. And nor should we assist those like Bentinck who want us to."
"Well," he said, stretching his shoulders, "I'm sure this ministry will take your line. Lord George's bill has no more chance than…Prosser's Patent Wooden Railway."
"Ooooh!" she fumed. "When you don't want to discuss anything…!"
His attitude changed at once. He appeared to resign himself—painfully—to the necessity of talking with her, which brought all her anger back to the boil.
"Very well, Nora." He sighed. "What do you want? Let's talk about our money. The profits we're making on the GS and W. Do you now think it
would be wrong to invest them here?"
It was a question too important for anger; she forced herself to speak reasonably. "If the government is going to start handing out money to everyone who waves a begging bowl under their noses, it will make reasonable business decisions impossible."