Life in a Railway Factory

Bonuses are paid to firemen and engine-drivers on the line for economy in fuel. The same plan might profitably be adopted in the factory. It is well-known that certain men invariably produce the best work. One furnaceman will waste as much again fuel as another. One machineman breaks no end of drills and tools. The work of this or that smith always looks rough and shoddy. One stamper spoils more dies in a year than another will in ten and often gets his work sent back, while the other does never. If the best men were the most highly paid there would be no just cause for complaint, but they are not. They are all classed the same. The incompetent receives as much as the competent and is usually held higher in esteem.

That great changes have taken place in regard to everything connected with the factory of late years is not to be disputed. Different schemes of work and other methods of dealing with the men have everywhere been introduced. New machinery has revolutionised many branches of the labour and it usually happens that where an appliance that saves 50 per cent. to the firm is adopted the men are hustled into double activity; the great delight of the managers is to boast of the large amount of work produced by a machine, and to add that “one man does it all.” In addition, prices all round are continually being sharpened; “balance” is earned with greater difficulty and only by increased effort. The officials declare openly that piecework balance is merely given to the men when they earn it without strenuous efforts; they will not admit the reasonableness of working with any degree of sanity and comfort.

As well as new machinery, which has revolutionised many branches of work in the factory, there are such things as fresh laws and regulations touching accidents and compensation for injuries, which have helped considerably to modify the tone and character of the sheds. Only those in perfect health are now admitted to the works; those possessed of flaws of any kind are rejected. The tests are almost as severe as are those used for recruiting for the Army and Navy, and young men are refused on account of the most trivial ailments and infirmities.

When a man shows signs of being subject to recurrent spells of sickness he is marked out as an undesirable; as soon as an opportunity comes he will be quietly shifted off the premises. If a workman falls ill he must not only satisfy the medical authorities at the works’ infirmary, and notify his foreman of the fact, but, after passing the doctor’s examination and clearing off the funds, he must present himself at one of the manager’s offices and be further interrogated before he is allowed to start again. This last-named examination is deeply resented by the rank and file, and many, though ill, continue at work when they ought to be at home because they do not like the irritating process of passing the test and the certainty of having something or other recorded against them.

In reality this is a system of espionage, a cowardly inquisition, but one that is in high favour with the foreman because it gives him the chance of getting rid of a man on so-called medical grounds without his suspecting that he has been discharged for other reasons. By this means the shed foreman may remove anyone against whom he has a grudge and he cannot well be blamed himself; the victim is told that he is “medically unfit,” and there is an end of it. The game is played by putting a private pen mark upon the official slip to be presented at the office. If the foreman desires to retain the workman he puts a private mark upon the paper, and if he wants to get rid of him and has not the courage to tell him so to his face the mark is omitted. This is so arranged in order that if the workman suspects that the paper contains something to his detriment and demands to see it, there shall be nothing that he can cavil at. The damaging thing is in that there is no sign upon it. Honest Mark Fell, who was one of the finest smiths that ever worked at a forge, an excellent time-keeper, and who was possessed of a grand character, died rather than go out on the sick list and be forced to pass the dreaded inquisition. He was run down with over-work, and was badly in need of a rest, but he did not like the idea of going to the offices. Accordingly he kept coming to work day after day, and grew weaker and weaker. When at last he did stay out it was too late; his strength and vitality were gone and he died within a week or two afterwards.

A decade and a half ago one could come to the shed fearlessly, and with perfect complacence; work was a pleasure in comparison with what it is now. It was not that the toil was easy, though, as a matter of fact, it was not so exhausting as it is at present, but there was an entirely different feeling prevalent. The workman was not watched and timed at every little operation, and he knew that as the job had been one day so it would be the next. Now, however, every day brings fresh troubles from some quarter or other. The supervisory staff has been doubled or trebled, and they must do something to justify their existence. Before the workman can recover from one shock he is visited with another; he is kept in a state of continual agitation and suspense which, in time, operate on his mind and temper and transform his whole character.

At one time old and experienced hands were trusted and respected, both by reason of their great knowledge of the work, acquired through many years, and as a kind of tacit recognition of their long connection with the firm, but now, when a man has been in the shed for twenty years, however young he may be, he is no longer wanted. There is now a very real desire to be rid of him. For one thing, his wages are high. In addition to this, he knows too much; he is not pliable. It is time he was shifted to make room for someone lower paid, more plastic and more ignorant of the inner working of things.

If a workman has a grievance it is useless for him to complain to the overseer, who is usually the cause of it, and if he takes it upon himself to go and see the manager he gets no redress. The manager always supports the foreman whether he has acted rightly or wrongly, and the man is remembered and branded as a malcontent; he will be carefully watched ever after. The safest way to quell a man is to keep him hard at work. While his nose is firm upon the grindstone there is no danger of his indulging in speculations of any kind; he could no more realise himself than he could hope to see the stars at midday.

While the men are inside the walls of the factory, they are under the most severe laws and restrictions, many of which are utterly ridiculous, and out of all reason considering the general circumstances of the toil and the conditions in vogue; they are indeed prisoners in every sense of the term. In the midst of the busiest period of hay-making and harvest-cart, ploughing or threshing, a short stop is always made for refreshment, or the labourer takes a crust of bread and cheese from his pocket and eats it at his work and is strengthened with it, but in the factory one must not be seen to crack a nut, or eat an apple or biscuit, much less to partake of any other food. If he should break the rule and be seen eating, he will be marked for it and told to “get a pass out and go home.” Four or five hours is a long time to keep up a strenuous pace at the fires. A half-way relaxation of ten minutes would be good for everyone; the workman would more than make up for it afterwards.

A regrettable dulness is discovered by very many of the men, which may be bred of the labour itself and the extremely monotonous conditions of the factory. There is little or no thought taken for the future, no knowledge of the value of life, and not much desire to know, either. The workmen do not think for themselves, and if you should be at the pains of pointing out anything for their benefit they will tell you that you are mad, or curse you for a Socialist. Anyone at the works who holds a view different from that expressed by the crowd is called a Socialist, rightly or wrongly; it would need an earthquake to rouse many of the men out of their apathy and indifference. It is more than education at fault. There is something wrong at the very roots of the tree. The whole system of life requires overhauling and revolutionising; the national character is become flat and stale.

I have already, in the first chapter, referred to labour unrest. That is the perfectly natural outcome of modern conditions of labour, the long spell of commercial prosperity, and of the spread of knowledge among the working classes. It is not to be viewed with misgiving at all, at any rate, not by those who can look intelligently into the future and brush aside the paltry prejudices that are common everywhere to-day. The very fact that working-men are rousing themselves and showing a masterly interest in problems of the hour, and are prepared to fight fairly and bravely for better conditions should be a source of satisfaction to everyone. It proves, at least, that they are awake and alive; that they have cast off torpor and stagnation and put on power and virility, and that is surely a good omen both for the future of democracy and for the nation at large. The extent of the riches of this country is so great as to be inconceivable to the workers; if they knew how much wealth there really is they would need to have no scruples in pressing with all their might for a fairer share in the profits of their labours. Where the pace is so much faster and the output considerably increased it is natural that there should be a demand for higher wages and shorter hours. More leisure and rest are absolutely indispensable in order properly to recuperate for the increased demands made upon the workmen’s physical powers. The difficulties of forming agreements with the men are not nearly as great as they are represented to be. Drastic changes could be made with but very little inconvenience or loss to the firm; the transition would be almost imperceptible.

The idea that the general factory week should be completed in five turns, the day shifts to finish working by Friday night, and the night shifts to complete their toils by Saturday morning, has long been in my mind. The having two clear days of leisure would give the worker an opportunity of entirely shaking off the effects of confinement in the shed at the week-end, and of starting work a new man on the Monday morning. It is impossible for one to recuperate sufficiently in the short space of time at present allowed; he is never free from the effects of the hurry and speed of the machinery. There is, moreover, no time to get away from the shadow and ugliness of the factory walls and to make the acquaintance of other scenes in the country round about. When the sheds are closed on Saturdays for short time, crowds of workers either leave the town on foot and walk around the adjacent villages, enjoying the fresh, pure air, or take short trips by the train and come back strengthened with the change; you hear many a one say, during the following week, that he feels extra fit and well.

If a week of forty-eight hours were divided out and completed in five turns, instead of six, it would be both popular with the men and economical for the employers. The fuel and light, the cost of steaming up the boilers and the general wear and tear of machinery on the sixth turn and for several hours a day besides would be saved, and there would be about an equivalent amount of work produced. It is useless for critics and calculators to come forward with figures and quotations to disprove the statement and show its impossibility; I have worked in the shed long enough to understand the true significance of things. What is more, the workman is not, and never will be a mathematical machine; his efforts and powers are not to be calculated by the set rules of arithmetic.

The whole trend of things in the industrial world is towards shorter hours, better wages, and a greater proportion of liberty for the workman; all the objections that can be raised and schemes devised will not stop the progressive movement. Sooner or later the barriers must give way, and the goal will have been reached; the wonder then will be that the change was not effected earlier. I would bid all toilers and moilers, in and out of factories, to be of good hope and cheer, to fight on and press steadily forward; victory will be certain to follow. At the same time, one must not expect to arrive at an utter immunity from hardships, nor, perhaps, will the whole of the differences between capital and labour ever be absolutely removed and every problem solved. Many conditions, however, will most certainly have been bettered, many disputes settled and evils overcome, and this, it will be confessed, is worth living and hoping for.