Labor
[From the Herald of
Freedom of May 5, 1843; Miscellaneous Writings, 255-59]
It is enslaved outright, in
one portion of this democratic
Republic, - and despised heartily in every portion of it. Wealth, and Edjucation and Indolence, and empty-headed Vanity in all
its departments, are worshipped. Labor worships them, among the rest, and
despises itself. The laboring man, generally, despises his vocation, and
himself on account of it, - about as our Negro brother despises himself, on
account of his complexion, &c.
And Labor is generally
poor, as well as degraded. It earns all that is earned, by any body in the
world, and might naturally be expected to share some of its own earnings. The
Slave gets none of his, and the free Laborer as little of his Usage and the Religion of the times
can't help his having. These get away from him all they can, and generally
leave him ragged poor. And
he thinks it all right, - or if his nature is restless under the horrible
perversion, he does not dream that it is any fault of his tyrants and
plunderers. He adores and worships them, and despises his brother in poverty
and toil. Half the time - nine tenths of the time, he would be a tyrant
himself, as they are, if he had the power. It is the vice of general morality,
that he is so, and that springs from the Religion of the People. A people's
religion is generally, perhaps always , their own viciousness, exalted and sanctified, and made sublime enough to be worshipped.
The People create their Gods in their own image, - put thunder and lightning
&c., into their hands, and thus worship their own wickedness.. Our
Religion, whatever name you may call it by - as it is preached and practiced,
and carried on - makes us
what we are, and, among other deplorable effects, places Labor where it is, -
and sets up Idleness over it, as its Lord and Master.
I deny that Labor ought to be
degraded, or ought to starve. I am bold to deny it.
I hazard the startling assertion, that Work ought not to go hungry,
or naked, but have something to eat, and to wear. It may cost some of our
remaining subscribers, to say it, but I will risk it. I say nobody, ought to go
without it, and I might venture further - that nobody, able to labor, but who
does not labor, ought to have a living. I would give them one for the honor of
the race, or as God sends rain on the unjust, but they do not deserve it. No
laborer should want, and no idler should enjoy, - and no man has a right to be
idle. He may be for all me,,
but not for all himself. He owes it to himself, to earn his bread at the least,
- to earn it by useful
labor, and not by useless - much less mishievous labor, - as too many earn it,
or get it by now. Further, as no man has a right to be idle, and live on the
earnings of others, so no man ought to obliged to support the idle, or to labor
much (if any) beyond support of himself. There ought, of course, to be labor
enough done on earth, to support all its inhabitants, richly - and if it were
properly shared, no one would need do more, and none would do less. Men have no
right to overwork themselves, if they can help it. They owe it to their nature
and to God, who is dishonored (if that is possible) in its degradation. It is
in derogation of glorious human nature, to overwork it, and more grossly so, to
have it slothful and idle, and basely live on the unrequited toil of others.
Every one owes it to
himself, as well as to his otherwise overburdened and injured neighbor, to do manual
labor enough, to earn the
bread he consumes, and all his support. He must earn it for himself, or
somebody else must earn it for him, which is clearly wrong. He may say he pays
for his support, but he ought to consider that he pays money that is not his
own, - for he did not earn it - and social combinations that cast it upon him,
are vicious, - and in violation of human welfare and right. I would not disturn
them violently - but I think they are wrong, and will say so.
If every body worked as much as
they ought to, nobody would be obliged to work more than they opught to, which
would be a mighty amelioration of human condition and character. A people
broken down with labor, whether free labor (so called) or slave, must be
morally degraded. It is easy for a Priesthood to ride such a people. They have
not the leisure, nor the elasticity of soul, to appreciate or assert their own
freedom. Their backs are bowed down, like a kneeling camel's and the Priest
mounts them easily, and rides, all their miserable lives long.
Every body ought to earn
his own living by manual labor, and if practicable, had better earn this much,
by cultivating the face of the ground. To say nothing of the healthfulness of
such labor and the enjoyment of it, - which every body needs - there is an
independence about it, a certainty of remuneration, that human justice or folly
cannot defeat. And then it is due the face of our mother earth. The glorious
old mother, her children, (for they all repose in her motherly lap) owe it to
her, to keep her whole face, her entire surface, where there is terra firma for the noble plow, dressedto her taste and
their own. They ought to deck deck her "universal face in pleasant
green." And labor enough done by all, to earn their living, would do it.
There need not a man overtoil himself, to turn all earth into a paradise, - a
fit abode for gods - and godlike creatures would then inhabit it. Mechanical
labor is useful, necessary, honorable. But prosecuted constantly and
uninterruptedly, it is not so healthful or pleasant as when mingled with
cultivation and adornment of the earth, nor so sure or requital. He who vests
his labor in the faithful ground is dealing directly with God, and human fraud
or weakness does not intervene between him and his requital. He is very apt to
get his reqward. The mechanic is quite apt to fail of his. No mechanic has a
set of customers equally trustworthy as God and the elements, - or so
unfailingly able, as well as willing to pay. No savings Bank is ever so sure as the old earth, to
restore all its deposites and with overflowing and gushing usury. Every
mechanic knows his own condition best, perhaps. But I am extravagant in saying
it would be well for every one to cultivate the earth enough to raise his own
support? There is enough earth for all - provided humanity could be allowed to
come on to it and dig.
The earth is as fine a one
as God could furnish us. I don't believe the Clergy or the Legislature could
better it - or our honester friends who are looking for the Prince of Peace to come with the torch of the incendiary and
set it afire. I tell our conflagration friends, by the way, if Christ touches
match to this glorious earth of ours, (which if He be God, He made to the best
of His Almighty skill,) and burns it up - or burns a single human creature that
sins and suffers on its surface, he is not the "Son of man" revealed
in the New Testament. There is not a trait of character of him, delineated in
the gospel, that such an act would not violate and outrage. No, let no such inflammatory scenes be anticipated. Would we burn the earth, and our miserable neighbors,
- if we felt right toward them. No - nor if we felt right, should we ever expect God would do any such
thing. It is only when we are wrong and wicked ourselves, that we clothe our
God with such an incendiary and revengeful disposition. Nero set Rome afire and
played on the fiddle at the sight of the conflagration - Nero would most
naturally attribute to God the
disposition he was manifesting.
But the earth is as
beautiful as God could make it. They complain of it being cursed. The only
curse now resting on it, it seems to me, is the curse of the indolent, idle
tyranny, and curse of down-trodden, back-broken labor. No wonder the earth is
cursed and blasted. See war let loose upon it, under the sanction of religion,
to devastate what poor, desponding Labor has done toward its adornment. See how
it drives its harnessed horses through the harvest field, and ruts it with its
accursed cannon wheels, and tears the sweetest green swards with its murderous
shot. And how it mows down the laborers, manuring the earth with their bones.
That is all war ever does for agriculture. It manures the ground with the blood
and bones of the cultivator. Waterloo, they say, was made fat in this way, by
that darling system of Kings and Clergy. They rained blood on that field, and
the plaster of Paris they
spread on for manure, was the bleached and powrdered bones of the soldiery. But
I am digressing, as friend Palmer of the Courier almost wittily said of the Herald, the other day.