English fiction -- 20th century; Lancashire (England) -- Fiction
“It’s a tremendous thing to be a Hepplestall and if you cheered just now
because my name is Hepplestall I think that you were right. Some of you
hissed. If that was because I am a Hepplestall, I think that you were
wrong, but if it was because I’ve been a long time in coming here, then
you were right. I shirked the responsibility. I had the thought to take
my capital out of Hepplestall’s and to put it into something soft. But a
man said to me lately that capital that failed to accept responsibility
was going to get it in the neck. I agreed and my capital stops in
something tough, in Hepplestall’s. And another thing. We’ve made hay of
the hereditary principle as such. If I’ve no merit, I shan’t presume on
being Sir Philip’s son. In the mills side by side with you, it will
be discovered whether I have merit or no. Now, I am not a socialist.
I shall take the wages of capital and if I rise to be your manager, I
shall take the wages of management. That’s blunt and I expect some of
you are taking it as a challenge. Then those are the very fellows who
are going to help me most. We’ll arrive amongst us at the knowledge of
what is capital’s fair wage and what is management’s fair wage. I am
here to learn and I am here to serve. If you will believe that, it will
help us all; it will help more than had I kept my motives to myself and
simply made you a speech of thanks for the home-coming welcome you have
given me. The welcome expressed some disapproval and I should not have
been honest if I had pretended that I didn’t notice it. I am not out to
earn your approval by methods which might be contrary to the interests
of Staithley Mills. I am out to serve Hepplestall’s, not sectionally,
but as a whole. I look to you to show me my way, and while I have to
thank you wholeheartedly for your cheers, I am absolutely sincere in
thanking you for your hisses. They are the beginning of my education. I
haven’t a sweet tooth and I liked them. We’re not going to get together
easily, I and those fellows who hissed. Well, strong bonds aren’t forged
easily and I can’t be more than a trier. I’m Hepplestall and proud of
it, and I dare say that’s enough for some of you. It isn’t enough for me
until I’ve proved myself and it isn’t enough for the fellows who hissed.
I’m asking them for fair play for a Hepplestall. I’m asking for a
chance. I’m going to do my best and I’m keeping you from home. It’s good
of you to stay and I’ve said my say. You’ve not had butter; you’ve had
facts. My thanks to you for listening. Good night.”
They cheered and he stood at the window as they dispersed, trying to
remember what he had said, trying to gauge its effect upon the men.
There were no hisses, but that meant nothing; a demonstration of
opposition had been made and needn’t be repeated. But, anyhow, he hadn’t
lied; he hadn’t pretended that he had their esteem before he earned it;
and he meant to earn it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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