Part 8 (1/2)

Let me tell you of a vision I had the other day as I sat meditating and dreaming in my study chair. I dreamed I was walking down the streets of an American city when I saw a large brick building which I might have thought was a factory except that there were white curtains at every window in the house. As I neared the door, I asked a pa.s.ser-by what it was, and he astonished me by saying, ”This is the great Christian factory.” Being a little anxious to see what life in a really Christian factory would be like, I went in on a tour of investigation. There were several hundred employees in the factory, most of whom were young women. To my astonishment, I found bath-tubs in this factory, with an abundance of hot and cold water, linen towels, and toilet soap. Did one ever hear of such luxuries in a factory of any sort? In the girls'

bath-room there were rugs under foot, the finis.h.i.+ng was done in oak, the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs were nickel-plated, the sanitary arrangements were perfect, and everything was as bright and clean as it was possible to make it. Each employee was allowed thirty minutes for a bath, and if one was so fastidious as to need three-quarters of an hour, no comments were made. The structure was commodious and convenient, substantially built, and heated, lighted, and ventilated throughout according to the most improved system. Even the cellar was attractive in its completeness, from the steam-engine that operated the machinery of the building, to the culinary department where those who desired could purchase a noon-day lunch at actual cost of material. The cook in charge of the kitchen devoted her entire time to the work. Every day, tea, with milk and sugar, was supplied by the firm free of charge; oaten meal was furnished three days in the week at the same rate.

Delicious soup was served at three cents a bowl. The entire floor was carefully cemented; it was light, warm, and clean, and there were tables and benches for those who lunched in the building. An hour was allowed at noon, and while all were expected to be on hand promptly at one o'clock, the girls living at a distance from the factory were thoughtfully permitted to leave a few minutes before twelve o'clock.

On the main floor goods were stored in the centre of the room, the remaining s.p.a.ce being reserved for the pleasure and convenience of the employees. At one end of this s.p.a.cious floor there was an improvised music-room, with a piano and window garden, where the girls could sing and sun themselves every noon. Opposite was an enclosed sanctum, divided into a reading and reception-room. Bright, soft rugs were scattered about. The reading-table was as well stocked with current literature as a club man's library table. The papers and periodicals were reserved for the exclusive use of the girls. An open fireplace was one of the attractive features of the reception-room, and there was a mantel-mirror, too--that means of grace so dear to the gentler s.e.x.

The two upper floors contained the work-tables and machines. On entering these work-rooms one was struck by the neatness of the place.

Everything seemed to have a white lining. The atmosphere was not only clean, but fresh and sweet. There were no rags, no dust, no fluff, no smell of dripping grease from over-hanging machinery. A special staff of men was constantly employed to look after the premises, and their vigilance was such as to antic.i.p.ate the wear and tear. The abundance of light and suns.h.i.+ne would astonish and delight not only business people, but school commissioners as well. Each work-shop was the size of an entire floor, so that light was admitted from four sides of the building, the windows almost adjoining one another. The white curtains, which softened the light, gave the place a homelike appearance which was very pleasing. Another charm was the love of flowers. There were potted plants on every floor, and they were as green and lovely as if nourished by a practical florist. On making some inquiries, I found that Friday was pay-day, and that indirectly much good resulted from this thoughtful system. Not only did it give the hundreds of families the benefit of the early Sat.u.r.day markets, but in a great measure did away with the credit-books, and, best of all, was instrumental in keeping the girls off the street Sat.u.r.day night. No charges were imposed upon the operators. They did not have to buy thread, pay machine-rent, or replace broken needles. If an attachment was displaced, it was restored by the firm, and even the girls' scissors were kept sharpened at the expense of the employer. Hot and cold water, mirrors, towels, and soap were among the conveniences. Posted over the stationary wash basins was this request: ”Please help with your forethought to keep things clean and nice. Any attention will oblige.”

This was signed by the firm. The work was so systematized, and the training so thorough, that the tyrannical forewoman and domineering foreman had no place in the establishment. The manager was the only person to whom the hands were accountable. Adjoining the factory was a pretty garden containing a pear-orchard, with arbors and seats, where the girls lunched in fine weather. Women as a cla.s.s show the effects of good keeping, and these workers were not an exception. There were a great many pretty faces among them, and not one that betrayed ”boss-fright” or time-terror. As a cla.s.s they looked more like normal college students than factory hands. Compared with overworked, nerve-strained, anxious-faced girls in the sweat-shops, and indeed in most shops and factories, these trim, tidy-looking, cheerful and contented women seemed to me the very _n.o.blesse_ of the industrial world.

Ah! you may say, that is only an idle and visionary dream; and no doubt my critic of a few weeks ago, who thought I belonged to the most dangerous cla.s.s in the community when I was describing the misery of the ”white slaves of the Boston sweaters,” would be ready to say that I am engaged in a scarcely less dangerous task in putting such ideal and impossible dreams into the heads of working-girls. But, dear sceptical friend, what I have been telling you is not a dream at all, but a heavenly reality that is going on in this modern work-a-day world, in the city of Newark, N. J., and I have merely been summarizing for you the report of Nell Nelson in the New York _World_, giving an account of the Christian experiment of Ferris Brothers' factory for the making of corset waists. I was at this point in my discourse on Thursday at half-past one o'clock, when I said to myself, ”Isn't it a little hazardous to take all this for fact, even on the authority of a newspaper reporter? Will not a great many of your audience say it is only a pleasing fancy of a reporter's imagination?” So at three o'clock I was on the train for New York, and at eleven that evening I was in bed in a hotel in Newark.

Friday morning, at half-past seven, I was going through Ferris Brothers' factory, It is with great pleasure that I tell you that, on returning, I did not have to strike out a single word I had written. On every side were evidences of thoughtfulness; for instance, a large portion of the girls employed live in a section of the city to the rear of the factory. In order to save the extra walk of a block or two, three hundred additional keys have been made to the orchard gate, so that they can come and go that way. A large number of umbrellas are kept in the office. If a girl is caught at the factory in an unexpected shower, she finds an umbrella waiting to be loaned in just such an emergency.

With the manager I went through the culinary department. They make ice-cream now every day, and sell large plates to the girls for three cents. A careful account is kept of the cost, and the manager said he thought he should be able to reduce the cream to two cents a plate. I looked through the reading-room and over the carefully selected lists of papers. The manager said that among the girls were some excellent musicians, and others with good literary abilities, and told me, I thought with a pardonable degree of pride, that a few months since, when some desirable positions in the Newark Public Library were open to compet.i.tion, the two young ladies from the Ferris Brothers' factory who were successful, scored ninety-five points out of a possible hundred in their literary examination. No employee works more than nine and one-quarter hours a day, and Sat.u.r.day afternoon is free. The average wages, including beginners and help girls, is seven dollars a week, and a good worker makes twelve dollars.

You may say that many of these things that I have mentioned are insignificant and only trifles, but, after all, it is such things as these that in a large degree make or unmake our human lives; and a human life is no trifle. But lest some hard-headed business man shall shake his head and say, ”The fools will bankrupt themselves,” I must add, that aside from the beauty and grace of this thoughtful business philanthropy, the enterprise has been entirely satisfactory from a commercial stand-point, the firm agreeing that not only have their employees done more, but better, work than ever before. One of the firm a.s.sured me that, while there were, of course, many discouraging things and occasionally an employee who showed little appreciation, on the whole there had been a steady improvement during their three years'

experience in this factory, and under no circ.u.mstances would they be willing to go back to the old factory _regime_.

To contrast a factory like this with some of the sweat-shops I have visited, is like contrasting heaven with h.e.l.l. There may be, and I doubt not are, many other factories where the same Christian thoughtfulness is exercised in the treatment of employees, as here.

Upon all such may the benediction of Heaven rest! May their numbers be multiplied!

The Church, too--I mean the great Catholic Church, formed of all the branches of our Christianity ”who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity”--must open its arms with a heartier tone of welcome and brotherhood to the tried and disheartened working-people. Nothing in recent art has stirred me so deeply as a dim copy of Hacker's ”Christ and the Magdalene,” reproduced by Mr. Stead in the _Review of Reviews_.

The Christ is standing with coa.r.s.e clothing and toil-worn hands by the work-bench in the carpenter-shop at Nazareth. The shavings are heaped in piles around, him on the otherwise bare floor, while kneeling at his feet in penitence and trust is the Magdalene. Brothers, it is this carpenter Christ, as Frances Willard aptly puts it, ”the Monday Christ,” for whom the toil-worn world hungers, and will welcome when it sees Him manifested in us, in the shop, the factory, and the counting-room, as well as in the church.

Zoe Dana Underhill sings, in _Harper's Magazine_, a song the modern Church needs to learn, until its great heart shall throb with its spirit.

”The Master called to His reapers, 'Make scythe and sickle keen, And bring me the grain from the uplands, And the gra.s.s from the meadows green, And from off the mist-clad marshes, Where the salt waves fret and foam, Ye shall gather the rustling sedges, To furnish the harvest-home.

Then the laborers cried, 'O Master, We will bring Thee the yellow grain That waves on the windy hillside, And the tender gra.s.s from the plain; But that which springs on the marshes Is dry and harsh and thin, Unlike the sweet field-gra.s.ses, So we will not gather it in.'

But the Master said, 'O foolis.h.!.+

For many a weary day, Through storm and drought, ye have labored For the grain and the fragrant hay.

The generous earth is fruitful, And breezes of summer blow Where these, in the sun and the dews of heaven, Have ripened soft and slow.

'But out on the wide, bleak marshland Hath never a plough been set, And with rapine and rage of hungry waves The s.h.i.+vering soil is wet.

There flower the pale green sedges, And the tides that ebb and flow, And the biting breath of the sea-wind Are the only care they know.

'They have drunken of bitter waters, Their food hath been sharp sea-sand; And yet they have yielded a harvest Unto the Master's hand.

So shall ye all, O reapers, Honor them now the more, And garner in gladness, with songs of praise, The gra.s.s from the desolate sh.o.r.e.'”

X.

OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS, THE BOSTON PAUPERS.

”And Sir Launfal said, 'I behold in thee, An image of Him who died on the tree; * * * * *

Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me; Behold, through Him, I give to thee!'”