* The newspapers, in 1902 of that era, credited the president of the Anthracite Coal Trust, George F. Baer, with the enunciation of the following principle:  “The rights and interests of the laboring man will be protected by the Christian men to whom God in His infinite wisdom has given the property interests of the country.”

“The weakness in their position lies in that they are merely business men.  They are not philosophers.  They are not biologists nor sociologists.  If they were, of course all would be well.  A business man who was also a biologist and a sociologist would know, approximately, the right thing to do for humanity.  But, outside the realm of business, these men are stupid.  They know only business.  They do not know mankind nor society, and yet they set themselves up as arbiters of the fates of the hungry millions and all the other millions thrown in.  History, some day, will have an excruciating laugh at their expense.”

I was not surprised when I had my talk out with Mrs. Wickson and Mrs. Pertonwaithe.  They were society women.* Their homes were palaces.  They had many homes scattered over the country, in the mountains, on lakes, and by the sea.  They were tended by armies of servants, and their social activities were bewildering.  They patronized the university and the churches, and the pastors especially bowed at their knees in meek subservience.** They were powers, these two women, what of the money that was theirs.  The power of subsidization of thought was theirs to a remarkable degree, as I was soon to learn under Ernest’s tuition.

* Society is here used in a restricted sense, a common usage of the times to denote the gilded drones that did no labor, but only glutted themselves at the honey-vats of the workers.  Neither the business men nor the laborers had time or opportunity for society.  Society was the creation of the idle rich who toiled not and who in this way played.

     ** “Bring on your tainted money,” was the expressed
     sentiment of the Church during this period.

They aped their husbands, and talked in the same large ways about policy, and the duties and responsibilities of the rich.  They were swayed by the same ethic that dominated their husbands—­the ethic of their class; and they uttered glib phrases that their own ears did not understand.

Also, they grew irritated when I told them of the deplorable condition of Jackson’s family, and when I wondered that they had made no voluntary provision for the man.  I was told that they thanked no one for instructing them in their social duties.  When I asked them flatly to assist Jackson, they as flatly refused.  The astounding thing about it was that they refused in almost identically the same language, and this in face of the fact that I interviewed them separately and that one did not know that I had seen or was going to see the other.  Their common reply was that they were glad of the opportunity to make it perfectly plain that no premium would ever be put on carelessness by them; nor would they, by paying for accident, tempt the poor to hurt themselves in the machinery.*