CHAPTER XXIV._The seven curses of London

THE BEST REMEDY.

_Emigration_—_The various Fields_—_Distinguish the industrious Worker in

need of temporary Relief_—_Last Words_.

ALL other remedies considered, we come back to that which is cheapest,

most lasting, and in every way the best—emigration. This, of course, as

applying to unwilling and undeserved pauperism. These are the sufferers

that our colonies are waiting to receive with open arms. They don’t want

tramps and vagrants. They won’t have them, well knowing the plague such

vermin would be in a land whose fatness runs to waste. But what they are

willing to receive, gladly and hospitably, are men and women, healthy,

and of a mind to work honestly for a liberal wage. New Zealand has room

for ten thousand such; so has Australia and Canada.

It would be a happy alteration, if some milder term than “pauper” might

be invented to distinguish the industrious worker, temporarily

distressed, so as to be compelled to avail himself of a little parochial

assistance, from the confirmed and habitual recipient of the workhouse

dole. As was pertinently remarked by Colonel Maude, at a recent meeting

held in the rooms of the Society of Arts, and at which the policy of

assisting willing workers to emigrate to New Zealand was argued:

“There are people who are fond of putting forward the offensive

doctrine, that a man who is a ‘pauper,’ as they call him, has thereby

become unfit ever again to exercise the self-reliance and

independence in any other country necessary to procure him a living,

the want of which qualities has brought him to the abject condition

he is now in. Like most sweeping generalities, this is both false

and cruel. The condition of the wage-paid class is, in the nature of

things, more dependent than that of any other; and without for a

moment depreciating the wisdom of frugality and thrift, I would ask

some of those who are in the enjoyment of independent incomes,

whether their position would not be almost as desperate if their

income were suddenly withdrawn? And this is constantly happening to

large masses of our artisans, in many cases entirely without fault of

their own; and then how does the State deal with them? It says, ‘If

you will wait until you have parted with your last penny and your

last article of furniture, and then come to us, we will assist you,

but only then, and only in the following manner: The allowance of

food, clothing, and shelter which we will give you shall be the least

which experience proves will keep body and soul together. We will

break the law of God and of nature by separating you from your

family. We will prevent you seeking for work elsewhere by confining

you in a house where employers are not likely to search for you, and

whence you cannot go to seek it yourself. The nature of the work you

shall perform shall not be that in which you are proficient, but

shall be of the most uninteresting and useless kind. Owing to the

small quantity of food we give you, you will not be able to exert

your powers to their best advantage. By resorting to us for

assistance, you will be lowered in the estimation of your

fellow-workmen; and in all probability, as experience tells us, you

will return to us again and again, until you become a confirmed and

helpless pauper.’

“We are fond of pointing to Paris, and of showing how dearly the

French pay for their system of providing work for the people; but if

it be true, as I have lately heard, that there are one million of

paupers at this moment in England—and besides these, I am in a

position to state that there cannot be less than one million persons

who would be glad of permanent employment at reasonable wages—I do

not think we have much to boast of. Besides, does anyone doubt that

if the French Emperor were possessed of our illimitable colonies,

with their endless varieties of climate, he would very soon transfer

his surplus population to them, and be very glad of the chance? And

we ought to consider the cost of our paupers. Let us take it at

10_l._ a head per annum. As a matter of economy, it would pay very

well to capitalise this tax, and at two years’ purchase we could

deport large numbers in great comfort, and thus save a good deal of

money to the ratepayers, even supposing none of the money were ever

refunded; but I hope to show how that amount would be more than

repaid. But I suppose that some people will say, ‘Your system, then,

is transportation?’ My answer might be, ‘If you are not ashamed to

impose the humiliating and unpleasant condition which you at present

force upon an applicant for relief, surely when you have satisfied

yourselves that his lot will be much happier and brighter in the new

home which you offer him, all your compunctions should vanish.’”

I have ventured to quote Colonel Maude at length, because he is a man

thoroughly conversant with the subject he treats of, and all that he

asserts may be implicitly relied on. And still once again I am tempted

to let another speak for me what perhaps I should speak for myself—the

concluding words of this my last chapter. My justification is, that all

that the writer expresses is emphatically also my opinion; and I am quite

conscious of my inability to convey it in terms at once so graphic and

forcible. The gentleman to whom I am indebted is the writer of a leader

in the _Times_:

“Here is a mass of unwilling pauperism, stranded, so to speak, by a

receding tide of prosperity on the barren shores of this metropolis.

Something must be done with it. The other object is more important,

but not so pressing. It is, that people who cannot get on well at

home, and who find all their difficulties amounting only to this—that

they have not elbow-room, and that the ground is too thickly

occupied—should be directed and even educated to follow the

instructions of Providence, and go to where there is room for them.

There is no reason why every child in this kingdom should not have

the arguments for and against emigration put before it in good time,

before it arrives at the age when choice is likely to be

precipitated, and change of mind rendered difficult. Children in

these days are taught many things, and there really seems no reason

why they should not be taught something about the colonies, in which

five millions of the British race are now prospering, increasing, and

multiplying, not to speak of the United States. But we must return

to the object more immediately pressing. It is surrounded by

difficulties, as was confessed at the Mansion House, and as is

evident on the facts of the case. But we believe it to be a case for

combined operation. Everything seems to be ready—the good men who

will take the trouble, the agency, the willing guardians, the public

departments, or, at least, their functionaries—and the colonics will

not complain if we send them men willing to work, even though they

may have to learn new trades. The Boards of Guardians and the

Government will contribute, as they have contributed. But they

cannot, in sound principle, do more. The public must come forward.

Sorry as we are to say the word, there is no help for it. This is

not a local, it is a national affair. Chance has thrown these poor

people where they are. It would be a good opportunity thrown away,

if this work were not done out of hand, one may say. Here are some

thousands attracted to the metropolis by its specious promises of a

long and solid prosperity. They cannot go back. They must now be

passed on. Where else to but to the colonies?

“It must be evident by this time to the poor people themselves that

they may wait and wait for years and years without getting the

employment that suits them best. The metropolitan ratepayers are

losing temper, and making themselves heard. The colonies are all

calling for more men and more women, and more children approaching

the age of work. Several members of the Government attended the

meeting, either in person or by letter, with promises of money,

advice, and aid. There is the encouragement of successful millions,

who within our own lifetime have established themselves all over the

world. Every cause that operated forty years ago operates now with

tenfold force. At that date the only notion of an emigrant was a

rough, misanthropical sort of man, who had read _Robinson Crusoe_,

and who fancied a struggle for existence in some remote corner, with

a patch of land, some small cattle, constant hardships, occasional

disasters and discoveries, welcome or otherwise. It was not doubted

for a moment that arts and sciences and accomplishments must be left

behind. There could be no Muses or Graces in that nether world. The

lady, so devoted as to share her husband’s fortune in that

self-exile, would have to cook, bake, brew, wash, sew, mend, and

darn, if indeed she could spare time from the still more necessary

toil of getting something eatable out of the earth, the river, or the

sea. That was the prevailing picture of emigrant life; and when

missionary tracts and Mr. Burford’s dioramas indicated houses,

streets, and public buildings, it was still surmised that these were

flattering anticipations of what there was to be, just as one may see

rows of semi-detached villas, picturesque drives, shrubberies,

miniature lakes, and gothic churches in the window of a land-agent’s

office, representing the golden futurity of a site now covered by

cattle or corn. Forty years have passed, and where there might be

then a few hard settlers, there are now cities, towns, and villages

which England might be proud of; railways, and every possible

application of art and science on a scale often exceeding our own.

Large congregations meet in handsome churches, stocks and shares are

bought and sold, machinery rattles and whizzes, ladies walk through

show-rooms full of the last Parisian fashions, dinners are given

worthy of our clubs, and operas are performed in a style worthy of

Covent Garden, in places where, forty, years ago, men were eating

each other.”

* * * * *

THE END.