The Gibson Upright | Page 6

Yes, and took advantage of the capitalistic system to own the factory.
GIBSON: Before he did own it he worked fourteen hours a day for twelve years. That's why he owned it.
NORA: How many hours a day do you work, Mr. Gibson?
GIBSON: I have worked twenty-four; sometimes fourteen, sometimes two; usually six.
NORA: In other words, when you want to work.
GIBSON: I've learned to do things my father never learned to do, and it commands a higher return.
NORA: You take a higher return!
GIBSON: You mean I don't deserve it?
NORA: Can it be possible that you think you deserve as much as any of these workers? You don't so much as touch one of these pianos that bring you your return. I do! I work on them with my hands. Do you think you deserve as much as I?
GIBSON: No; I don't go so far as that.
NORA: Don't talk to me as a woman! My work is pleasant enough now; but what work did I have to do before I got this far? I worked sixteen hours a day, and when I was only a child at that! Twelve hours I was sewing, and four I studied. If my father hadn't known music and taught me a little your capitalistic system would have me sewing twelve hours a day still!
GIBSON: Yes, Nora; when we learn how to do something we get better pay for it.
NORA: We do? Do you really think that? That we get paid for what we do?
GIBSON: Yes; that's what I think.
NORA: Then what do you get paid for? For nothing in the world but owning this factory. You're paid because you're a capitalist!
GIBSON: Is that all?
NORA: Why, look at the state the factory's in! The discontent you saw in those men--that's the fault of the capitalistic system! There aren't twenty workmen in the place that are contented.
GIBSON: You're right about that; and they never will be.
NORA: Not until the system's changed. What are you going to do about it?
GIBSON [with quiet desperation]: They've driven me as far as they can. If they walk out I'll walk out. I can stand it if they can.
NORA: You'd close down? Your only solution is to take the bread out of these men's mouths?
GIBSON: If they walk out I'll walk out!
NORA [trembling]: You coward!
GIBSON: That's fair?
NORA: You'll let us starve because you haven't the courage to come to the right solution! Don't you mind starving us?
GIBSON: You mean you'd starve if I quit.
NORA [vehemently]: No; but because you'd close the factory.
GIBSON: Oh, the factory could run if I quit, could it?
NORA: That's the capitalist! They think it's capital that runs the factories!
GIBSON: And I'm the capital, am I?
NORA: What in the world else? [Touches the piano.] You think you produce this wealth because you've got your money in it? You pass out a pittance to those who do produce it, and when they ask for more than a pittance you take their tools away from them! If they rebel you set the police on them. That's capital--and that's you, Mr. Gibson!
GIBSON: Nora, you told me not to speak to you as a woman.
NORA: I mean it!
GIBSON: I'm going to disregard it. Couldn't you get your theories out of your mind for a while and make a little room there for me?
NORA: My theories! I haven't any theories! I'm talking about the truth, and the truth is my whole life. I can't find room for anything but the truth.
GIBSON: Couldn't you?
NORA: Ah, that's a man's egoism! With the whole world seething so that its wrongs should fill every mind--yes, and every heart--until they're righted, you ask me--
GIBSON: I think you needn't make it any clearer, Nora; I understand.
NORA [turning away, agitated]: I am glad you do.
[The factory door opens to the impetuous arrival of a workingman of extraordinary size and vehemence, RILEY, a truck driver.]
RILEY [as he opens the door]: See here, Mr. Gibson, fer the love o' heaven, don't the truck drivers fer this factory git no consideration?
GIBSON: I don't know! What do they want?
RILEY: Look here, Mr. Gibson, man to man, every department in this factory is makin' demands and goin' to walk out if they don't git 'em. Ain't we got no chance fer no demands?
GIBSON: I said: What do you want?
RILEY: Why, we got grievances been hangin' over I don't know how long!
GIBSON: What are they?
RILEY: Why, all them other departments is going to git raises. You don't think fer a minute the truck drivers ain't going to--
GIBSON: How much raise do you want?
RILEY: Sir?
GIBSON: How much raise do you want?
RILEY: I can't jest say right this minute. We jest heard what was goin' on in the other departments, and we ain't had no meetin' to settle just what raise we are goin' to git. Now, Mr. Gibson, if I