SOURCES OF BENEVOLENCE.
There is a common phrase which is likely to become a most powerful
antagonist to any arguments that have been put forward in the foregoing
pages: and I think it would be good policy for me to commence the attack,
and endeavour to expose its weakness in the first instance. If you
propose any experiment for remedying an evil, it is nearly sure to be
observed that your plan is well enough in theory, but that it is not
practical. Under that insidious word "practical" lurk many meanings.
People are apt to think that a thing is not practical, unless it _has_
been tried, is immediate in its operation, or has some selfish end in
view. Many who do not include, either avowedly, or really, the two
latter meanings, incline, almost unconsciously perhaps, to adopt the
former, and think that a plan, of which the effects are not foreknown,
cannot be practical. Every new thing, from Christianity downwards, has
been suspected, and slighted, by such minds. All that is greatest in
science, art, or song, has met with a chilling reception from them. When
this apprehensive timidity of theirs is joined to a cold or selfish
spirit, you can at best expect an Epicurean deportment from them.
Warming themselves in the sun of their own prosperity, they soothe their
consciences by saying how little can be done for the unfed, shivering,
multitude around them. Such men may think that it is practical wisdom to
make life as palatable as it can be, taking no responsibility that can be
avoided, and shutting out assiduously the consideration of other men's
troubles from their minds. Such, however, is not the wisdom inculcated
in that religion which, as Goethe well says, is grounded on "Reverence
for what is under us," and which teaches us "to recognize humility and
poverty, mockery and despite, disgrace and wretchedness, suffering and
death, as things divine."
There is a class of men utterly different from those above alluded to,
who, far from entertaining any Epicurean sentiments, are prone to view
with fear the good things of this world. And, indeed, seeing the
multiform suffering which is intertwined with every variety of human
life, a man in present ease and well-being may naturally feel as if he
had not his share of what is hard to be endured. The fanatic may seek a
refuge from prosperity, or strive to elevate his own nature, by
self-inflicted tortures; but one, who adds wisdom to sensibility, finds
in his own well-being an additional motive for benevolent exertions. It
is surely bad management when a man does not make a large part of his
self-sacrifices subservient to the welfare of his fellow-men. In active
life nothing avails more than self-denial; and there its trials are
varying and multifarious: but ascetics, by placing their favourite virtue
in retirement, made it dwindle down into one form only of self-restraint.
* * * * *
I suppose there are few readers of history who have not occasionally
turned from its pages with disgust, confusion, a craving for any grounds
of disbelief, and a melancholy darkness of soul. It can hardly be
otherwise, when you read, for instance, of the colossal brutalities of
the Roman Emperors, many of whom indulged in a sportive cruelty to their
fellow men, which reminds one of children with insects. When you find,
again, some mighty Master of the World, renowned for valour, and for
prudence, one of those emphatically called the "Good" Emperors, kindly
presenting hundreds of men to kill each other for the amusement of the
Roman multitude--when you are told that that multitude contained, what
may have been for that age, good men, and gentle women--when, passing
lower down the turbid stream of the recorded past, you read of Popes and
Cardinals, Inquisitors and Bishops, men who must have heard from time to
time some portions of the holy words of mercy and of love, when you find
them, I say, counselling and plotting and executing, the foulest deeds of
blood--when, descending lower still, you approach those days when law
became the tyrant's favourite scourge, and you find the legal slave
telling his master how he has interrogated some poor wretch "in torture,
before torture, after torture, and between torture"--when you have some
insight into what that thing torture was, by contrasting the hand-writing
of the distracted sufferer before and after his examination--when, to
your surprise, you read that these very victims of persecution, were
themselves restless and dissatisfied, unless they could direct the arm of
power against another persecuted race--and when, coming to your own day,
you find that men, separated from you by distance, though not by time,
can show the utmost recklessness of human life, if differently coloured
from their own. Pondering over these things, your heart may well seek
comfort in the thought that these tyrants were, or are, rude men, of iron
frame, ready to inflict, ready themselves to suffer. It is not so. A
Nero clings to his own life with abject solicitude. A Louis the
Eleventh, who could keep other men in cages, wearies Heaven with prayers,
and Earth with strange devices, to preserve his own grotesque existence.
A James the First, who can sanction at the least, if not direct, the
torture to be applied to a poor, old, clergyman, was yet in the main a
soft-hearted man, can feel most tenderly for a broken limb of any
favourite, have an anxious affection for "Steenie and Baby Charles," and
an undoubted, and provident, regard for his own "sacred" person. What
shall we say, too, of that Chancellor of his, a man, like his master, of
a soft heart, full of the widest humanity, and yet, as far as we know,
unconscious of the horror of those ill doings transacted in his own great
presence? Why is it that I recall these things? Why do I bring forward
what many of us, forgetting the iron weight with which the sentiments of
his age press down even upon the mightiest genius, might look upon as a
humiliating circumstance far greater than it is, in the life of a man we
ought all to love so much? Is history a thing done away with, or is not
the past for ever in the present? And is it not but too probable that we
ourselves are occasionally guilty of things which, for our lights, are as
sad aberrations as those which, in reading of the past, we have dwelt
upon with the profoundest pity, and turned away from in overwhelming
amazement? Are we quite sure that none of the vices of tyranny rest with
us; and that we individually, or nationally, have not to answer for any
carelessness of human life or for any indifference to human suffering?
* * * * *
What is it that has put a stop to many of the obvious atrocities I allude
to as disgracing the page of history? The introduction of some great
idea, the recognition, probably, in some distinct form of the command "to
do unto others as you would they should do unto you." And this is what
is wanted with regard to the relation of the employer and employed. Once
let the minds even of a few men be imbued with an ampler view of this
relation, and it is scarcely possible to estimate the good that may
follow. Around that just idea what civilization may not grow up! You
gaze at the lofty cathedral in the midst of narrow streets and squalid
buildings, but all welcome to your sight as the places where miserable
men first found sanctuary; you pass on and look with pleasure at the rich
shops and comfortable dwellings; and then you find yourself amongst ample
streets, stately squares, and the palaces of the great, with their
columns and their statues: and if then you turn your thoughts to the
complex varieties of modern life, and the progress of civilization and
humanity, may you not see the same thing there; how all that is good, and
merciful, and holy, is to be traced up to some cathedral truths, at first
little understood, just restraining rude men from bloody deeds, and then
gradually extending into daily life, being woven into our familiar
thoughts, and shedding light, and security, and sanctity, around us?
And, as the traveller's first impulse, when he rises in the morning after
his journey, is to catch a glimpse of that famous building which must
ever be the thing most worthy of note in the city; so, in your travels,
would you not look first for these cathedral truths, and delight to
recognize their beneficent influence wherever you may meet with anything
that is good in man?
* * * * *
And now, reader, I have come to the close of this Essay. I do not assert
that I have brought forward any specific, or even any new remedy of a
partial nature, for the evils I have enumerated. Indeed I have not
feared to reiterate hacknied truths. But you may be sure, that if you do
not find yourself recurring again and again to the most ordinary maxims,
you do not draw your observations from real life. Oh, if we could but
begin by believing and acting upon some of the veriest common places!
But it is with pain and grief that we come to understand our first
copy-book sentences. As to the facts, too, on which I have grounded my
reasonings, they are mostly well known, or might be so; for I have been
content to follow other men's steps, and so assist in wearing a pathway
for the public mind. I am well aware that I have left untouched many
matters bearing closely on the subject, more closely, perhaps, some of my
readers will think, than the topics I have taken. In the fields,
however, of politics, and political economy, there are many reapers: and
the part of the subject which I have chosen seemed to me of sufficient
importance to be considered by itself. I know that in much of what I
have said, I have touched with an unpractised hand, upon matters which
some of those who are great employers of labour will have examined and
mastered thoroughly. Still, let them remember, that it is one thing to
criticise, and another to act. Their very familiarity with the subject
may render them dull to the means of doing good which their position
affords them. We pass much of our time in thinking what we might do if
we were somewhat different from what we are; and the duties appropriate
to our present position invite our attention in vain.
* * * * *
To others I may say, there is nothing in these pages, perhaps, that will
exactly point out the path most fitting for you to take; still I cannot
but think that so many have been indicated, that you will have no
difficulty in finding some one that may lead to the main object if your
heart is set upon it. If you throw but a mite into the treasury of good
will which ought to exist between the employers and the employed, you do
something towards relieving one of the great burdens of this age,
possibly of all ages; you aid in cementing together the various orders of
the state; you are one of those who anticipate revolutions by doing some
little part of their duty towards the men of their own time; and, if you
want any reward to allure you on, you will find it in the increased
affection towards your fellows which you will always have, when you have
endeavoured to be just to them.
But I would wish to put more solemn considerations before you. Ask
yourself, if making all allowance for the difference of times and
countries, you think that the payment of poor rates, of itself, fulfils
the command to visit the sick, clothe the naked, and feed the hungry.
Depend upon it, our duties, however they may be varied by the different
circumstances of different periods, cannot be satisfied by any thing that
the state demands of us, or can do for us. We have each, from the
highest to the lowest, a circle of dependents. We say that Kings are
God's Vicegerents upon earth: but almost every human being has at one
time or other of his life, a portion of the happiness of those around him
in his power, which might make him tremble, if he did but see it in all
its fullness. But at any rate, the relation of master and man is a
matter of manifest and large importance. It pervades all societies, and
affects the growth and security of states in the most remarkable and
pregnant manner; it requires the nicest care; gives exercise to the
highest moral qualities; has a large part in civil life; a larger part in
domestic life; and our conduct in it will surely be no mean portion of
the account which we shall have to render in the life that is to come.
APPENDIX.
According to tables of which Mr. Grainger states that he has ascertained
the general accuracy, the proportionate numbers among the working-classes
in the Birmingham district at present receiving education are as
follows:--Out of a population of 180,000 persons,
10,902 or 6.05 per cent. attend day or evening schools only;
4,141 or 2.30 per cent. attend both day or evening and Sunday-schools;
12,616 or 7.01 per cent. attend a Sunday-school only; making a total
of
27,659 or 15.36 per cent. of the population attending schools of some
kind or other.
Of this number--
5,835 are under 5 or above 15 years of age; leaving
21,824 children between the ages of 5 and 15 attending school in the
borough of Birmingham at the time the schools were visited.
According to the population abstracts of 1821 and 1831, one-fourth of the
total population consists of children between these ages. Hence it would
appear, that of the 45,000 between the ages of 5 and 15 in the borough of
Birmingham--
21,824 or 48.5 per cent. were receiving instruction in day and
Sunday-schools; and
23,176 or 51.5 per cent. were not found receiving instruction in
either day or Sunday-schools within the borough of Birmingham.
(Grainger, Evidence: App. Pt. I., p. _f_ 185, 1. 13.)
In the Wolverhampton district, including the neighbouring towns of
Willenhall, Bilston, Wednesfield, Sedgley, Darlaston, and also in the
towns of Dudley, Walsall, Wednesbury, and Stourbridge, though there are
many day-schools, yet the chief means relied on for the education of the
working classes are Sunday-schools. In the Collegiate Church district in
the town of Wolverhampton, containing a population of from 16,000 to
20,000 persons, there is no National or British School. There is not a
single school, reading-room, or lending library attached to any of the
manufactories, foundries, or other works, with one exception near
Wednesbury; there are no evening-schools, and there is only one
industrial school in these districts, namely, at Wednesbury. It is
stated in evidence that the great majority of the children receive no
education at all; that not one half of them go even to the
Sunday-schools, and that those who do go to these schools seldom attend
them with regularity. Throughout the whole of these districts, the
proportion that can read is represented as being unusually small; some
who stated that they could read, when examined, were found unable to read
a word; and out of 41 witnesses under eighteen years of age examined at
Darlaston, only four could write their names. (Horne, Report: App. Pt.
II., p. Q 16, ss. 182 _et seq._)
"The number of children on the books at the different schools in
Sheffield, comprising every description of schools," says Mr. Symons,
"was made the subject of minute and accurate inquiry in 1838, by the Rev.
Thomas Sutton, the vicar; and I have reason to believe that no material
difference has taken place in the amount of scholars taught at the
'common' and 'middling' private day-schools since Mr. Sutton's census was
made." From this census it appears that the maximum number of children
on the books of the different day-schools, including the infant-schools,
is 800; but on a personal examination of these schools by the
Sub-Commissioner, he states that a large proportion, no less than 26.47
per cent. out of the total number on the books, must be deducted as being
continually absent. "Assuming," therefore, he continues, "that the
schools thus estimated are a criterion of the rest (and they are
certainly superior), the number who attend the schools out of the 8000 on
the books is only 5869. Of the number present at the schools visited,
when probably the least instructed were absent, it appears that 45.83 per
cent. were unable to read fairly, and that 63.43 per cent. could not
write fairly. Taking this as an index to the education of the total
number on the books, it results that, of the whole 8000, 4333 only can
read fairly, and 2925 only can write fairly, or, in other terms, have
attained an elemental education."
The population of Sheffield _parish_ is computed to be 123,000. Of this
number it is assumed that at least one-fifth will consist of children
between the ages of three and thirteen. There will be therefore 24,600.
Of these more than two-thirds will be of the working classes: at least
16,500, then, of these classes are of an age at which they ought to be
receiving education at day-schools; yet little more than one-third of
this number, viz. one only out of 2.8 attend day-schools. It is
impossible to ascertain what proportion of those who do not attend
day-schools can read or write; but as it is certain that they are less
instructed by at least one-half, I have every reason to believe that, out
of the total 16,500 working class children, not above 6,500 can read
fairly. Among the older youths there is still less education, for they
have had more time to forget the little they were formerly taught. This
estimate is so thoroughly corroborated by the most trustworthy evidence I
have received, that I entertain the belief that two-thirds of the working
class children and young persons are growing up in a state of ignorance,
and are unable to read. On the books of the Sunday-schools there were
during the last year 2258, of which the average attendance was only 1708.
From this it appears that 24.40 per cent. or nearly a quarter, are absent
of the whole number on the books of the Sunday-schools. (Report: App.
Pt. I. pp. E 18 _et seq_. ss. 136, 138, 144-148, 150, 151.)
In the returns from the Warrington district it is stated that nearly
three-fourths of the children can read; but the Sub-Commissioner reports
that of this number nine-tenths can only give the sound of a few
monosyllables; that they have just acquired so much knowledge in the
Sunday-schools, and that they will probably attain to little more during
their lives. (Austin, Report: App. Pt. II. p. M 19, ss. 125 _et
seq._)
_Report on the Physical and Moral Condition of the Children and young
Persons employed in Mines and Manufactures_.
II. AN ESSAY ON THE MEANS OF IMPROVING THE HEALTH AND INCREASING THE
COMFORT OF THE LABOURING CLASSES.
This Essay is chiefly based on evidence respecting the condition of the
labouring classes in towns. It is not, however, necessary, on that
account, to consider the subject as applying to those classes only.
There is good reason to believe that the state of the agricultural
labourers does not differ much, at least in kind, from that of the
working people in towns. The remedies for the evils in both are of the
same nature; and whatever results are arrived at with respect to the
health of towns may generally be adapted, without much difficulty, to the
wants of the rural population.
London,
Feb. 6, 1845.
CHAP. I.
DISTRESS AMONGST THE LABOURING CLASSES.
Knowing that there is an element of decay in any over-statement, I was
very anxious, in the former Essay, to avoid even the least exaggeration
in describing the distressed state of the labouring people. This anxiety
was, in that case, needless. An elaborate Report has since been
published by the Health of Towns Commission; and the evidence there given
more than bears out the statements which I then made.
Indeed, the condition of a large part of the labouring classes, as seen
in this Report, is evidently one which endangers the existence amongst
them of economy, decency, or morality. You may there see how more than
savage is savage life led in a great city. Dr. Southwood Smith in his
evidence says,
"The experiment has been long tried on a large scale with a dreadful
success, affording the demonstration that if, from early infancy, you
allow human beings to live like brutes, you can degrade them down to
their level, leaving them scarcely more intellect, and no feelings
and affections proper to human minds and hearts."
He mentions that it has happened to him, in his visits to the poor, as
Physician to the Eastern Dispensary, to be unable to stay in the room,
even to write the prescription.
"What must it be," he adds, "to live in such an atmosphere, and to go
through the process of disease in it?"
In another place he says,
"You cannot in fact cure. As long as the poor remain in the
situations which produce their disease, the proper remedies for such
disease cannot be applied to them."
This state of things, too, according to the same authority, is advancing
on us:
"Whatever may be the cause, the fact is certain, that at the present
time an epidemic is prevailing, which lays prostrate the powers of
life more rapidly and completely than any other epidemic that has
appeared for a long series of years."
The experienced student of history, reading of long wars, looks for their
consummation in the coming pestilence. Gathering itself up, now from the
ravaged territory, now from the beleaguered town, now from the carnage of
the battle field, this awful form arises at last in its full strength,
and rushing over the world, leaves far behind man's puny efforts at
extermination. We have a domestic pestilence, it seems, dwelling with
us; and if we look into the causes of that, shall we find less to blame,
or less to mourn over, than in the insane wars which are the more
acknowledged heralds of this swift destruction? But, to return to
detail. Mr. Toynbee, one of the surgeons of the St. George's and the St.
James's Dispensary, tells us:
"In the class of patients to our dispensary, nearly all the families
have but a single room each, and a very great number have only one
bed to each family. The state of things in respect to morals, as
well as health, I sometimes find to be terrible. I am now attending
one family, where the father, about 50, the mother about the same
age, a grown up son about 20, in a consumption, and a daughter about
17, who has scrofulous affection of the jaw and throat, for which I
am attending her, and a child, all sleep in the same bed in a room
where the father and three or four other men work during the day as
tailors, and they frequently work there late at night with candles.
I am also treating, at this present time, a woman with paralysis of
the lower extremities, the wife of the assistant to a stable-keeper,
whose eldest son, the son by a former wife, and a girl of 11 or 12
years of age, all sleep in the same bed! In another case which I am
attending in one room, there are a man and his wife, a grown up
daughter, a boy of 16, and a girl of 13; the boy has scrofulous
ulcers in the neck; the father, though only of the age of 49, suffers
from extreme debility and a broken constitution."
The medical officer of the Whitechapel Union says,
"I know of few instances where there is more than one room to a
family."
Mr. Austin, an architect, gives us the following description of Snow's
Rents, Westminster, which is but one instance "among many worse," of the
state of things produced simply by the want, as he expresses it, of
"proper structural arrangement and control."
"This court is of considerable width, upwards of 20 feet, but the
houses are mostly without yards, and the refuse, when become
intolerable inside the houses, is deposited in the court itself, the
whole centre being a pool of black stagnant filth, that accumulates
from time to time, and is left to decompose and infect the whole
neighbourhood. Ventilation, or rather a healthy state of the
atmosphere is impossible. What little disturbance of the air does
take place, would appear only to render its state more intolerable."
Being asked what the condition of this court is with regard to drainage
and the supply of water, he says,
"There are none whatever there. In wet weather, when the water
attains a certain height In the court, it finds its way into an open,
black, pestilence-breathing ditch in a neighbouring court; but in the
ordinary state of things the whole centre of this place is one mass
of wet decomposing filth, that lies undisturbed for weeks, from
which, so dreadful is the effluvia at times arising, that in the
tenants' own words, 'they are often ready to faint, it's so bad!'
The supply of water consists in this: that 16 houses are accommodated
with one stand pipe in the court! On the principal cleaning day,
Sunday, the water is on for about five minutes, and it is on also for
three days in the week for one half hour, and so great is the rush to
obtain a modicum before it is turned off, that perpetual quarrelling
and disturbance is the result."
If we go now from the Metropolis to some of the great towns, we find,
substantially, the same account, varied by the special circumstances of
each place. Liverpool, which we will look at next, is probably the
worst. An official enumeration of the court and cellar population of
that town was made two years ago, from which it appeared that 55,534
persons, more than one-third of the working classes, inhabited courts;
and 20,168 persons lived in cellars. There are also cellars in the
courts containing probably 2000 inhabitants.
"With regard to the _character_ of these courts, 629, or nearly
one-third, were closed at both ends; 875, or less than one-half, were
open at one end; and only 478, or less than one-fourth, open at both
ends.
"The cellars are 10 or 12 feet square; generally flagged,--but
frequently having only the bare earth for a floor,--and sometimes
less than six feet in height. There is frequently no window, so that
light and air can gain access to the cellar only by the door, the top
of which is often not higher than the level of the street. In such
cellars, ventilation is out of the question. They are of course
dark; and from the defective drainage, they are also very generally
damp. There is sometimes a back-cellar, used as a sleeping
apartment, having no direct communication with the external
atmosphere, and deriving its scanty supply of light and air solely
from the front apartment."
The above extract, and the numbers of the court and cellar population,
are taken from Dr. Duncan's evidence. He thinks, from extensive data in
his possession, that the numbers, as given in this enumeration, are under
the mark. And it is suggested that, possibly, casual lodgers have been
omitted. Dr. Duncan then gives some further details which enable us more
fully to understand what dog-holes these cellars are.
"Of the entire number of cellars, 1617 have the back apartment I have
mentioned; while of 5297 whose measurements are given, 1771, or
one-third, are from five to six feet deep,--2324 are from four to
five feet, and 1202 from three to four feet below the level of the
street: 5273, or more than five-sixths, have no windows to the front;
and 2429, or about 44 per cent. are reported as being either damp or
wet."
In cellars of this kind there are sometimes 30 human beings, sometimes
more, "furnished," as Dr. Duncan tells us, "with a supply of air
sufficient for the wants of only seven." Occasionally, in this Report,
there are scenes described in a circumstantial, Dutch-picture way which
the most vigorous imagination, priding itself on its ingenuity in
depicting wretchedness, would hardly have conceived. Take the following
instance from the evidence of Mr. Holme of Liverpool.
"Some time ago I visited a poor woman in distress, the wife of a
labouring man. She had been confined only a few days, and herself
and infant were lying on straw in a vault through the outer cellar,
with a clay floor, impervious to water. There was no light nor
ventilation in it, and the air was dreadful. _I had to walk on
bricks across the floor to reach her bed-side_, _as the floor itself
was flooded with stagnant water_. This is by no means an
extraordinary case, for I have witnessed scenes equally wretched; and
it is only necessary to go into Crosby-street, Freemason's row, and
many cross streets out of Vauxhall-road, to find hordes of poor
creatures living in cellars, which are almost as bad and offensive as
charnel houses. In Freemason's-row I found, about two years ago, a
court of houses, the floors of which were below the public street,
and the area of the whole court was a floating mass of putrefied
animal and vegetable matter, so dreadfully offensive that I was
obliged to make a precipitate retreat. Yet the whole of the houses
were inhabited!"
Think what materials for every species of comfort and luxury, are
perpetually circulating through Liverpool. If there had not been, for
many a day, a sad neglect of supervision on the part of the employers,
and great improvidence on that of the employed, we should not see the
third part of the working population of such a town immersed in the most
abject wretchedness, and all this wealth passing through and leaving so
little of the comforts of life in the active hands through which it has
passed. It may be said, however, that a considerable part of the
population of Liverpool is immigrant, and Irish. Turn then to
Nottingham, or York, or Preston, it is the same story. Mr. Hawksley, the
engineer, says of Nottingham:
"With few exceptions the houses of Nottingham and its vicinity are
laid out either in narrow streets, or more commonly are built in
confined courts and alleys, the entrance to which is usually through
a tunnel from 30 to 36 inches wide, about 8 feet high, and from 25 to
30 feet long, so that purification by the direct action of the air
and solar light is in the great majority of these cases perfectly
impracticable. Upwards of 7000 houses are erected _back to back and
side to side_, and are of course by this injurious arrangement
deprived of the means of adequate ventilation and decent privacy."
Dr. Laycock says of York,
"From these inquiries it appears that in the parish of St. Dennis, in
which strict accuracy was observed, from 8 to 11 persons slept in one
room in 4.5 per cent. of the families resident there; in 7.5 per
cent. from 6 to 8 persons slept in one room; of the total 2195
families visited by the district visitors, 26 per cent. had one room
only for all purposes."
The Rev. Mr. Clay gives an account of an examination of a part of
Preston,
"The streets, courts, and yards examined contain about 422 dwellings,
inhabited at the time of the inquiry by 2400 persons sleeping in 852
beds, i.e. an average of 5.68 inhabitants to each house, and 2.8
persons to each bed.
"In 84 cases 4 persons slept in the same bed.
,, 28 ,, 5
,, 13 ,, 6
,, 3 ,, 7
,, 1 ,, 8
"And, in addition, a family of 8 on bed stocks covered with a little
straw."
The results of statistical investigations, with respect to the duration
of life, are in unison with the inferences that we should naturally make
from the facts before us. Dr. Laycock shows us that in York, in the best
drained parishes, where the population to the square rood is 27, and the
mean altitude above the sea in feet is 50, the mean age at death is
35.32; in intermediate parishes, where the population is denser and the
altitude less, the mean age at death is 27.29; in the worst drained,
worst ventilated, and lowest situated parishes, the mean age at death is
22.57. He mentions a fact well worth noticing, that the cholera in 1832
broke out in the court called "the Hagworm's nest," which is in the same
spot where the pestilences of 1551 and 1604 had dwelt. Surely, in these
last two hundred years, we might have drained and ventilated a locality
which experience had shown to be so attractive to epidemics. The Rev.
Mr. Clay has furnished a table, subjoined in the Appendix, showing the
progressive diminution of vitality in the respective classes of gentry,
tradesmen, and operatives, at Preston. Dr. Duncan says respecting the
mortality of Liverpool,
"While in Rodney Street and Abercromby Wards, with upwards of 30,000
inhabitants, the mortality is below that of Birmingham--the most
favoured in this respect of the large towns in England--in Vauxhall
Ward, with a nearly equal amount of population, the mortality exceeds
that which prevails in tropical regions. * * * * * 177 persons die
annually in Vauxhall Ward for every 100 dying out of an equal amount
of population in Rodney Street and Abercromby Wards."
Vauxhall Ward is where the greater number of inhabitants dwell in
cellars. Well may Dr. Duncan, in commenting on this difference of
mortality in Vauxhall Ward and Rodney Street, declare that it is a fact
"sufficient to arouse the attention and stimulate the exertions of the
most indifferent."
* * * * *
The average age at death in the following classes is made out from all
the deaths which took place in the Suburban, the Rural, and the Town
districts of Sheffield in the three years, 1839, 1840, and 1841:
Gentry, professional persons, and their families 47.21
Tradesmen and their families 27.18
Artisans, Labourers, and their families
A. Employed in different kinds of trade and handicraft 21.57
common to all places
B. Employed in the various descriptions of manufacture 19.34
pursued in Sheffield and its neighbourhood
Persons whose condition in life is undescribed 15.04
Paupers in the Workhouse 25.51
Farmers and their families 37.64
Agricultural Labourers and their families 30.89
In considering such statistics, the premature death of these poor people
is not the saddest thing which presents itself to us, but the unhealthy,
ineffectual, uncared-for, uncaring life which is the necessary
concommitant of such a rapid rate of mortality.
* * * * *
Since the publication of the preceding Essay, Mr. Pusey's "Poor in
Scotland," an abstract which has brought the evidence taken before the
Scotch Poor Law Commission within short compass, has been published.
This evidence is of a nature that cannot be passed by. We may think that
such details are wearisome, but we must listen to them, if we would learn
the magnitude of the evil. It is no use proceeding without a sufficient
substratum of facts. Turning then to this abstract, we find one minister
in Edinburgh saying,
"I visited a part of my parish on Friday last, and in all the houses
I found persons destitute of food, and completely destitute of fuel;
without an article of furniture; without beds or bedding, the inmates
lying on straw."
Another tells the Commissioners,
"the allowance generally made, is not sufficient to keep them (the
outdoor pensioners) in existence at the lowest possible rate of
living."
A third says
"I have often trembled when I have gone at the call of duty to visit
the receptacles of wretchedness, because I felt that I could not
relieve the misery which I must look upon; and in such cases, nothing
but a sense of duty could compel me to go and visit the poor."
And a fourth minister mentions that his poor parishioners had stated to
him
"that they regarded themselves as outcasts from the sympathy of their
fellow-men."
It also appears from Dr. Alison's evidence that this distress is
increasing. You read of Glasgow, always fruitful in extreme instances of
misery, that in one of the private poor-houses, 22 children were found,
all afflicted with fever, and occupying a room _about fourteen feet
square_. The Superintendent of the Glasgow Police, speaking of a
district in the centre of the town, says
"These places are filled by a population of many thousands of
miserable creatures. The houses in which they live are altogether
unfit for human beings, and every apartment is filled with a
promiscuous crowd of men, women and children, in a state of filth and
misery. In many of the houses there is scarcely any ventilation.
Dunghills lie in the vicinity of the dwellings, and from the
extremely defective sewerage, filth of every kind constantly
accumulates."
Touching the immediate object of the enquiry, the relief of paupers, we
find that Humanity having gone with cold and cautious steps (giving 4_s._
a month, sometimes, to fathers and mothers of families) through the
Southern and middle regions of Scotland, becomes in the Highlands nearly
petrified: at "the utmost" is only able to divide amongst "the impotent
poor about 3_s._ 6_d._ a-head for the whole year." I dare say many
things may be urged against this, as against all other evidence--a bit
picked off here, another pruned off there--this statement modified, that
a little explained. Do what you will: this evidence, like that of the
Health of Towns Commission, remains a sad memorial of negligence on the
part of the governing and employing classes.
It may be said that the improvidence of the labouring people themselves
is a large item in the account of the causes of their distress. I do not
contend that it is not, nor even that it is not the largest; and, indeed,
it would be very rash to assert that this class has, alone, been innocent
of the causes of its own distress. But whatever part of their
improvidence is something in addition to the improvidence of ordinary
mortals, belongs, I believe, to their want of education and of guidance.
It is, therefore, only putting the matter one step further off, to say
that their distress is mainly caused by their improvidence, when so much
of their improvidence is the fruit of their unguided ignorance. However
true it may be, that moral remedies are the most wanted, we must not
forget that such remedies can only be worked out by living men; and that
it is to the most educated in heart and mind that we must turn first, to
elicit and to spread any moral regeneration. Besides, there is a state
of physical degradation, not unfrequent in our lowest classes, where, if
moral good were sown, it could hardly be expected to grow, or even to
maintain its existence.
* * * * *
The extracts given in the foregoing pages present some of the salient
points which these new materials afford of the distressed state of the
labouring classes. It is a part of the subject requiring to be dwelt
upon; for I believe there are many persons in this country who, however
cultivated in other respects, are totally unaware of the condition of
that first material of a state, the labouring population, aye even of
that portion of it within a few streets of their own residences.
Indeed, everybody is likely at some time or other to have great doubts
about this distress which is so much talked of. We walk through the
metropolis in the midst of activity and splendour: we go into the country
and see there a healthful and happy appearance as we pass briskly along:
and we naturally think that there must be great exaggeration in what we
have heard about the distressed condition of the people. But we forget
that Misery is a most shrinking unobtrusive creature. It cowers out of
sight. We may walk along the great thoroughfares of life without seeing
more than the distorted shadow of it which mendicancy indicates. A
little thought, however, will soon bring the matter home to us. It has
been remarked of some great town, that there are as many people living
there in courts and cellars, or at least in the state of destitution
which that mode of life would represent, as the whole adult male
population of London, above the rank of labourers, artisans, and
tradesmen. Probably we should form the most inadequate estimate of this
court and cellar population, even after a long sojourn in the town. Now
ponder over the fact. Think of all the persons in London coming within
the above description whom you know by sight. Think how small a part
that is of the class in question, how you pass by throngs of men in that
rank every day without recognizing a single person. Then reflect that a
number of people as great as the whole of this class may be found in one
town exhausting the dregs of destitution. When we have once appreciated
the matter rightly, the difficulty of discerning, from casual inspection,
the amount of distress, will only seem to us an additional element of
misfortune. We shall perceive in this quiescence and obscurity only
another cause of regret and another incitement to exertion.
CHAP. II.
REMEDIES AND REFLECTIONS SUGGESTED BY THE HEALTH OF TOWNS REPORT.
Having now made ourselves to some extent aware of the distress existing
amongst the labouring classes, we will consider the main branches of
physical improvement discussed in the Health of Towns Report.
1. VENTILATION.
I put this first, being convinced that it is the most essential. It is
but recently that any of us have approximated to a right appreciation of
the value of pure air. But look for a moment at one of those great
forest trees; and then reflect that all that knotted and gnarled bulk has
been mainly formed out of air. We, in our gross conceptions, were wont
to think that the fatness of the earth was the tree's chief source of
nourishment. But it is not so. In some cases this is almost perceptible
to the eye, for we see the towering pine springing from a soil manifestly
of the scantiest nutritive power. When we once apprehend how large a
constituent part, air is, of bodies inanimate and animate, of our own for
instance, we shall be more easily convinced of the danger of living in an
impure atmosphere.
And whether it agree with our preconceived notions or not, the evidence
on this point is quite conclusive. The volumes of the Health of Towns
Report teem with instances of the mischief of insufficient ventilation.
It is one body of facts moving in one uniform direction. Dr. Guy noticed
that, in a building where there was a communication between the stories,
disease increased in regular gradations, floor by floor, as the air was
more and more vitiated, the employment of the men being the same. But it
is needless to quote instances of what is so evident. With respect to
the remedies, these are as simple as the evils to be cured are great.
For instance, there was a lodging house in Glasgow where fever resided;
"but by making an opening from the top of each room, through a channel of
communication to an air pump, common to all the channels, the disease
disappeared altogether." Other modes of ventilation are suggested in the
Report; and one very simple device introduced by Mr. Toynbee, a
perforated zinc plate fixed in the window-pane furthest from the fire or
the bed, has been found of signal benefit. I shall take another
opportunity of saying more upon the subject of ventilation. Of all the
sanitary remedies, it is the most in our power. And I am inclined to
believe that half per cent. of the annual outlay of London, that is ten
shillings in every hundred pounds, spent only for one year in
improvements connected with ventilation, would diminish the sickness of
London by one fourth.
2. SEWERAGE.
Melancholy as the state of this department is shown to be; destructive
annually, I fear, of thousands of lives; it is almost impossible not to
be amused at the grotesque absurdity with which it has been managed. One
can imagine how Swift might have introduced the subject in Grildrig's
conversations with the King of Brobdingnag. "The King asked me more
about our 'dots' of houses, as his Majesty was pleased to call them; and
how we removed the scum and filth from those little 'ant-heaps' which we
called great towns. I answered that our custom was to have a long brick
tube, which we called a sewer, in the middle of our streets, where we
kept a sufficient supply of filth till it fermented, and the foul air was
then distributed by gratings at short intervals all over the town. {202}
I also told his Majesty, that to superintend these tubes, we chose men
not from any particular knowledge of the subject, which was extremely
difficult, but impartially, as one may say; and that the opinions of
these men were final, and the laws by which they acted irrevocable. I
also added that if we had adopted the mode of making these tubes which
our philosophers would have recommended, (but that we were a practical
people) we might have saved in a few years a quarter of a million of our
golden coins. 'Spangles,' said His Majesty, who had lately seen me
weighing one of the golden likenesses of our beloved Queen against a
Brobdingnag spangle that had fallen from the dress of some maid of
honour. Spangles or not, I replied, they were very dear to us, dearer
than body and soul to some, so that we were wont to say when a man died,
that he died 'worth so much,' by which we meant so many gold coins or
spangles, at which His Majesty laughed heartily. I then went on to tell
the King, of our river Thames, that it was wider than His Majesty could
stride, that we were very proud of it, and drank from it, and that all
these tubes led into it, and their contents were washed to and fro by the
tide before the city; and, then, my good Glumdalclitch seeing that I had
talked a long time and was much wearied, took me up and put me into my
box and carried me away. But not before I had heard the King speak of my
dear country in a way which gave me great pain. 'Insufferable little
wretches,' His Majesty was pleased to say, 'as foolish when they are
living at peace at home as when they are going out to kill other little
creatures abroad,' with more that was like this, and not fit for me to
repeat."
In sober seriousness, this subject of sewerage has been most absurdly
neglected. I do not blame any particular class or body of men.
Parliament has been repeatedly applied to in the matter, but nothing has
been done, as it was a subject of no public interest, though it is
probable, if the truth were known, that in those Sessions in which the
subject was mooted, there were few questions of equal significance before
the House. There are excellent suggestions in the Health of Towns Report
for improvement in the original construction of sewers, for their
ventilation, for their being flushed, for making the curves at which the
side sewers ought to be connected with the main trunks, for a better
system of house drainage, respecting which Mr. Dyce Guthrie has given
most valuable evidence, for the doing away with unnecessary gully drains,
and for conducting all the contents of these sewers, not into our much
loved river, but far away from the town, where they can do no mischief,
and will be of some use. This is not a simple matter like ventilation;
and what is proposed involves large undertakings. Still it is of immense
and growing importance, and should be resolutely begun at once, seeing
that every day adds to the difficulty which will have to be overcome.
3. SUPPLY OF WATER.
This is an essential part of any large system of sanitary improvement,
and one that does not present very great difficulty. The principal facts
which I collect from the Report are, that the expense of transmission is
inconsiderable, and consequently that we may have water from a distant
source; that the plan of constant supply seems to be the best; that this
constant supply, under a high pressure, could be thrown over the highest
buildings in case of fire, that it could be used for baths, public
fountains, and watering and cleansing streets; that it could be supplied
at 1_d._ or 1.5_d._ a week to the houses of the poor, and for this that
they might have any quantity they chose to take. At present the labour
of bringing water entirely prevents cleanliness in many of the more
squalid parts of the town: and the advantage of a constant and unlimited
supply would be almost incalculable. There appears to be some difficulty
in applying the principle of competition to the supply of water; for the
multiplication of water companies has in some instances only produced
mischief to the public. I would suggest to the political economist
whether there may not be some spheres too limited for competition. But
these are questions which I cannot afford at present to dwell upon.
4. BUILDING OF HOUSES.
In considering this branch of the subject, the first thing that occurs is
the absolute necessity of getting sufficient space to build upon. Other
improvements may follow; but almost all of them will be defective, if
this primary requisite be wanting. Hence it is of such importance to
combat the notion that people must live near their work. It is a great
convenience, no doubt. But the question is not of living near their
work, but of dying, or being perpetually ill, near it. Mr. Holland has
made a calculation from which it appears, that in some parts of the town
of Chorlton-upon-Medlock, in a family of five individuals, "there will be
on the average about 50 days a year more sickness _due to the insalubrity
of the dwellings_." To avoid this additional illness, it is surely worth
while for working men to live even at a considerable distance from their
work. Indeed I think two or three miles is not such a distance as should
prevent them. Besides, is it not probable that, in many instances, the
work would come to them?
Supposing that new building takes place, whether from the poorer classes
tending more to the suburban districts, or from the dense parts of towns
being rebuilt, much might be done by modifying, if not repealing, the
window tax and the tax on bricks.
With respect to the next point, the laying out of the ground, there are
most valuable suggestions given by Mr. Austin in the Health of Towns
Report. The result of his evidence is, that the average rental paid now
in Snow's Fields, a place which I have endeavoured to make the reader
acquainted with before, would return upwards of 10 per cent. upon money
laid out in making a substantial set of buildings to occupy the place of
the present hovels; and that these new houses should have "every
structural arrangement requisite to render them healthy and comfortable
dwellings." I have only to add on this subject, that it would be of the
utmost advantage in any new buildings, and especially for small houses,
likely to be built by small capitalists, that there should be a survey
made of every town, and its suburbs, with 'contours of equal altitude.'
{209} As things are managed at present, people building without any
reference to a general scale, or any connexion with each other (the
non-interference principle carried to its utmost length) the greatest
difficulties in the way of sanitary improvement are introduced where
there need have been none.
* * * * *
The main branches of sanitary improvement touched upon by the Report are
enumerated above. There are, however, some general results and
principles which demand our especial attention.
In the first place it seems to be universally true that economy goes hand
in hand with sanitary improvement. So beneficently is the physical world
constructed, that our labour for sanitary ends is eminently productive.
The order of Providence points out that men should live in cleanliness
and comfort which we laboriously and expensively contravene. In the
Appendix I subjoin a table drawn up by Mr. Clay, showing in detail the
saving produced by sanitary measures. I may notice, as bearing on the
point of economy, that there is concurrent evidence showing an excessive
rate of mortality to be accompanied by excessive reproduction.
Consequently, the result of the present defective state of sanitary
arrangements is, that a disproportionate number of sickly and helpless
persons of all ages, but chiefly children, are thrown upon the state to
be provided for. If this were to occur in a small community it would be
fatal. In a great state it is not more felt than a calamitous war, or an
adverse commercial treaty. But it requires a continued attention as
great as that which those more noisy calamities are able to ensure for
themselves while they are in immediate agitation.
Secondly, it is stated that the seats of disease are the seats of crime,
a result that we should naturally expect.
* * * * *
Again, it appears from many instances that what we are wont to call the
improvements in great towns are apt to be attended by an increase of
discomfort to the poor. To them, the opening of thoroughfares through
densely crowded districts, in the displacement which it creates, is an
immediate aggravation of distress. Considering this, ought we not to
endeavour that improvements for the rich and the poor should go on
simultaneously? It is a hard measure to destroy any considerable
quantity of house property appropriated to the working classes, and
thereby to raise their rents and densify their population, without making
any attempt to supply the vacuum thus created in that market.
* * * * *
It is stated by Dr. Arnott "that nearly half of the accidental illnesses
that occur among the lower classes might be prevented by proper public
management:" a statement which the general body of evidence, I think,
confirms. Now, consider this result. Think what one night of high fever
is: then think that numbers around you are nightly suffering this, from
causes which the most simple sanitary regulations would obviate at once.
When you are wearied with statistical details, vexed with the difficulty
of trying to make men do any thing for themselves, disgusted with
demagogues playing upon the wretchedness of the poor, then think of some
such signal fact as this; and you will cheerfully, again, gird up
yourself to fight, as heretofore, against evils which are not to be
conquered without many kinds of endurance as well as many forms of
endeavour.
I do not wish to raise a senseless moan over human suffering. Pain is to
be borne stoutly, nor always looked on with unfriendly eye. But surely
we need not create it in this wholesale fashion; and then say that that
which is a warning and a penalty, is but wholesome discipline, to be
regarded with Mussulman indifference.
* * * * *
I come now to what seems to me the most important result obtained in the
whole course of the elaborate evidence taken before the Health of Towns
Commission. It appears not only that distress can exist with a high rate
of wages, without apparently any fault on the part of the sufferers;
{214a} but, actually, that in some instances, _there is an increase of
sickness with an increase of wages_. {214b} The medical officer of the
Spitalfields' District states that the weavers have generally less fever
when they are out of work. This statement is confirmed by testimony of a
like nature from Paisley, Glasgow, and Manchester. It is one of the most
significant facts that has struggled into upper air. We talk of the
increase of the wealth of nations--it may be attended by an increase of
misery and mortality, and the production of additional thousands of
unhealthy, parentless, neglected human beings. It may only lead to a
larger growth of human weeds. The explanation of the matter is simple.
Dr. Southwood Smith tells us that "Fever is the disease of adolescence
and manhood." Now, wretched as the dwelling houses of the poor are,
_their places of work are frequently still worse_. {215a} Consequently,
with an increase of work, there comes an increase of fever from working
in ill-ventilated rooms, an increase of poor-rates, {215b} and an
especial increase of orphanage and widowhood, as the fever chiefly seizes
upon persons in the prime of life. And a large part of this increase is
thus distinctly brought home to neglect, or ignorance, on the part of the
employers of labour. Surely, as soon as they are made cognizant of this
matter, they will at once hasten to correct it. In the appendix to this
work there is a letter from Dr. Arnott, giving an account of the causes
of defective ventilation, and the remedies for it. We can no longer say
that the evil is one which requires more knowledge than we possess to
master it. Science, which cannot hitherto be said to have done much for
the poor, now comes to render them signal service. It is for us to use
the knowledge, thus adapted to our hands, for a purpose which Bacon
describes as one of the highest ends of all knowledge, "the relief of
man's estate." Consider the awful possibility that we may at some future
time fully appreciate the results of our doings upon earth. Imagine an
employer of labour having before him, in one picture as it were, groups
of wretched beings, followed by a still more deteriorated race, with
their vices and their sufferings expressed in some material, palpable
form--all his own handiwork in it brought out--and at the end, to console
him, some heaps of money. If he had but a vision of these things by
night, while yet on earth, such an all-embracing vision as comes upon a
drowning man! Then imagine him to awake to life. You would not then
find that he knew methods of ensuring to his workmen fresh air, but
lacked energy, or care, to adventure any thing for them. Talk not to me
of money, he would say--Money-making may be one of the conditions of
continuance in this matter that I have taken in hand, but on no account
the one great object. Indeed, if a man cannot make some good fabric by
good means, he would perform a nobler part, as Mr. Carlyle would tell us,
in retiring from the contest, and saying at once that the nature of
things is too hard for him. He is far, far, better conquered in that
way, than obstructing the road by work badly done, or adding to the
world's difficulties by inhumanity.
What I have given is but an outline of the Health of Towns Report; and I
would fain persuade my readers to turn to the original itself. Some
delight in harrowing tales of fiction: here are scenes indicated, if not
absolutely depicted, which may exercise the tenderest sympathies. Others
are ever bending over the pages of history: here, in these descriptions
of the life of the poor, are sources of information respecting the
well-being of nations, which history, much given to tell only of the
doings of the great, has been strangely silent upon. For the man of
science, for the moral philosopher, or even for the curious observer of
the ways of the world, this Report is full of interesting materials. But
it is not as a source of pleasurable emotion that our attention should be
called to it. It is because without the study of such works, we cannot
be sure of doing good in the matter. If there is anything that requires
thought and experience, it is the exercise of Charity in such a
complicated system as modern life. Indeed, there is scarcely anything to
be done wisely in it without knowledge. And I believe it would be
better, for instance, that people should read this Health of Towns
Report, than that they should subscribe liberally to carrying out even
those suggestions which are recommended by men who have thought upon
these subjects. There is no end to the quickening power of knowledge;
but mere individual, rootless acts of benevolence are soon added up.
There is not the less necessity for this knowledge, because public
attention is in some measure awakened to the duties of the employers of
labour. I do not know a more alarming sight than a number of people
rushing to be benevolent without thought. In any general impulse, there
are at least as many thoughtless as wise persons excited by it: the
latter may be saved from doing very foolish things by an instinct of
sagacity; but for the great mass of mankind, the facts require to be
clearly stated and the inferences carefully drawn for them, if they are
to be prevented from wasting their benevolent impulses upon foolish or
mischievous undertakings.
CHAP. III.
BY WHAT MEANS THE REMEDIES MAY BE EFFECTED.
Certainly, whether built upon sufficient information or not, there is at
the present time a strong feeling that something must be done to improve
the condition of the labouring classes. The question is, how to direct
this feeling--where to urge, where to restrain it; and to what to limit
its exertions. An inane desire for originality in such matters is wholly
to be discouraged. People must not dislike taking up what others have
begun. Of the various modes of improving the sanitary condition of the
labouring classes, each has some peculiar claim. Ventilation is so easy,
and at the same time so effective, that it seems a pity not to begin at
once upon that. Again, structural arrangements connected with the
sewerage of great towns are pressing matters, because, like the purchase
of the Sybil's books, you have less for your money, the longer you delay.
These two things and the supply of water seem to me the first points to
be attacked; but a prudent man will endeavour to fall in with what others
are doing, if it coincides with his direction, and he can thereby hasten
on, not exactly his own methods, but the main result which he has in
hand.
There is one conclusion which most persons who have thought on these
subjects seem inclined to come to--namely, that a Department of Public
Health is imperatively wanted, as the duties to be performed in this
respect are greater than can be thrown upon the Home Secretary. I
venture to suggest one or two things which it might be well to consider
in the formation of such a Department. It should not be a mere Medical
Board under one of the great branches of the Executive; but an entirely
independent Department. It will thus have a much firmer voice in
Parliament, and elsewhere. Scientific knowledge, as well as legal and
medical, should be at its daily command. I lay much stress upon the
first, and for this reason. Medical men, who are not especially
scientific, are apt, I suspect, to be "shut up in measureless content"
with the old ways of going on. Their knowledge becomes stereotyped. And
as, in such a Department, the aid of the latest discoveries is wanted, it
is better to rely upon those whose especial business it is to be
acquainted with them. All departments and institutions are liable to
become hardened, and to lose their elasticity. It is particularly
desirable that this should be avoided in a Department for the Public
Health; and, therefore, great care should be taken in the constitution of
it, to ensure sufficient vitality, and admit sufficient variety of
opinion, or it would be better to trust to getting each special work done
by new hands. The change of political chiefs, a thing frequent enough in
modern times, will ensure some of that diversity of mind which is one of
the main inducements for lodging power in a Commission or a Board.
It is a great question what authority should be entrusted by this central
body to Municipalities or local bodies. They should certainly have the
utmost that can discreetly be given to them. It does not do to say that,
hitherto, they have been totally blind to their duty in this matter. So
have other people been. The great principle of an admixture of
centralization with local authority should not be lost sight of without
urgent reasons. That any reform should be undertaken in sanitary
measures betokens an improved state of moral feeling. The feeling
amongst the most influential classes which produces the legislative
reform may be expected to go lower down--indeed, the reform has already,
in all probability, found some of its most useful supporters in a lower
class--and therefore we may expect to find fit persons to work in the
lower executive departments. It is not fair to go back and assume that
the old state of feeling exists--in fact, that the parchment law is
changed, and not the people. This might be so in a despotic government,
but not here. It is an oversight, when, in such cases, a general
improvement is not calculated upon.
One of the first things that might be attempted in the legislative way is
Smoke Prohibition. It is exactly a matter for the interference of the
state. The Athenian in the comedy, wearied of war, concludes a separate
peace with the enemy for himself, his wife, his children, and his
servant; and forthwith raises a jovial stave to Bacchus. Now all
sensible people would not only be glad to enter into amicable relations
with Smoke, but would even be content to pay a good sum for protection
against the incursions from factory chimnies and other nuisances in their
neighbourhood. But there is no possibility of making such private
treaties. The common undistinguishable air is vitiated: and we ask the
State, for the sake of the common weal, to see this matter righted. It
has been long before the public; and there is sufficient evidence to
legislate at once upon. At any rate, if Mr. Mackinnon's bill is referred
to a Committee, it ought to be upon the understanding that the
suggestions of the Committee shall be forthwith and earnestly considered,
with a view to instant legislation. If the Committee were to make an
excursion into the smoke-manufacturing parts of the Metropolis, they
would see here and there factory chimnies from which less smoke issues
than from private houses. This seems to be conclusive. They will not
find, I think, that these smokeless chimnies belong to unimportant
factories. Now, if the nuisance can be cured in one case, why not in
all? Here we have new and stately public buildings, in the East and the
West of the town, which only a few of us, for a short time, will see in
their pristine purity. If we cannot appreciate the mischief which this
smoke does to ourselves, let us have some regard for the public
buildings. Consider, too, at what an immense outlay we purchase this
canopy of smoke. Certainly at hundreds of thousands a year in London
alone. We have, therefore, made an investment in smoke of some millions
of money. If we had but the resources to spend upon public improvements,
which have thus been worse than wasted, we should need no other
contribution. Moreover, the proposed restrictions in the case of smoke
would not only be beneficial to the public, but profitable to the
individual: and the more one considers the subject, the more astonished
one is, that they should not long ago have been enacted.
But the truth is, we are quite callous to nuisances. A public prosecutor
of nuisances is more wanted than a public prosecutor of crime. And this
is one of the things that would naturally come under the supervision of a
Department of Health. I find, from the Health of Towns Report, that it
is proposed to permit the continuance of sundry noxious trades in London
for thirty years, and then they are to be carried on under certain
restrictions. It cannot be said that this is selfish legislation: the
present generation may inhale its fill of gas and vitriol; but our
grandchildren will imbibe "under certain restrictions" only that quantity
which is requisite to balance the pleasures of a city life. At Lyons
there is a long line of huge stumps of trees bordering on the river. The
traveller, naturally enough, supposes that this is the record of some
civil commotion; but, on inquiry, he finds that the fumes of an adjacent
vitriol manufactory have in their silent way levelled these magnificent
trees as completely as if it had been done by the most effective
cannonade. If we could but see in some such palpable manner how many
human beings are stunted by these nuisances, we should proceed in their
expulsion with somewhat of the vigour which it deserves. Imagine, if
only for one day, we could enjoy a more than lynx-like faculty, and could
see, not merely through rocks, but into air, what an impressive sight it
would be in this Metropolis. Here, a heavy layer of carbonic acid gas
from our chimnies--there, an uprising of sulphuretted hydrogen from our
drains--and the noxious breath of many factories visible in all its
varieties of emanation. After one such insight, we should need no more
Sanitary Reports to stimulate our exertions. But it is only our want of
imagination that prevents us from apprehending now the state of the
atmosphere. Science demonstrates the presence of all that I have
pictured, and far more.