taken for the removal of noxious trades from great towns. In many cases,
where rapid measures would be harsh and unjust, it would be well worth
while for the community to buy the absence of these unpleasant
neighbours, resolutely shutting the gates against the incoming of any
similar nuisances for the future. On the other hand, mere clamour about
the rights of property and the injustice of interference must be firmly
resisted. This clamour has been made in all times. Indeed, men seldom
raise a more indignant outcry than when they are prevented from doing
some injury to their neighbours. How the feudal barons must have chafed,
when deprived of the right of hanging in their own baronies: how cruel it
doubtless seemed to the monopolists of olden times, when some "factious"
House of Commons summoned to its bar the Sir Giles Overreaches, and made
them disgorge their plunder; how planters in all climes storm, if you but
touch the question of loosening the fetters of their slaves. And so, in
these minor matters, when the community, at last awake to its interest,
forbids some injurious practice to go on any longer, it is natural that
those who have profited by it, and who, blinded by self-interest, still
share the former inertness of the public, should find it hard to submit
quietly and good-naturedly to have any restrictive regulations put upon
their callings. And where the public can smooth this in any way, they
ought to do so; not grudging even large outlay, so that the nuisances in
question be speedily and effectually removed. The money spent by the
community on sanitary purposes is likely to be the most reproductive part
of its expenditure, and especially beneficial to the poorer classes who,
for the most part, live near these nuisances, and have few means of
resisting their noxious influence.
* * * * *
After discussing what might be done by legislation, we come naturally to
consider what might be done by Associations for benevolent purposes.
However inadequate such Associations may be as an equivalent for
individual exertion, there are, doubtless, many occasions on which they
may come in most effectively; doing that which individuals can hardly
undertake. In London, for instance, an association that would give us an
elaborate Survey of the town, would accomplish a most benevolent purpose,
and not be in any danger of interfering unwisely with social relations.
The same may be said of our other towns, for, I believe, there is not one
of them possessing a Survey fit to be used for building and sanitary
improvements. Again, there are certain fields at Battersea at present
unbuilt upon, close to the river, one of those spots near the metropolis
that ought to be secured at once for purposes of public health and
amusement: if a Society will do that for us, they will accomplish a noble
work. Happily, the necessity for public parks is beginning to be
appreciated. These are the fortifications which we should make about our
towns. Would that, on every side of the Metropolis, we could see such
scenes as this so touchingly described by Goethe.
"Turn round, and from this height look back upon
The town: from its black dungeon gate forth pours,
In thousand parties, the gay multitude,
All happy, all indulging in the sunshine!
All celebrating the Lord's resurrection,
And in themselves exhibiting, as 'twere
A resurrection too--so changed are they,
So raised above themselves. From chambers damp
Of poor mean houses--from consuming toil
Laborious--from the work-yard and the shop--
From the imprisonment of walls and roofs,
And the oppression of confining streets,
And from the solemn twilight of dim churches--
All are abroad--all happy in the sun."
_Anster's Faust_.
Many other excellent enterprises might be suggested which societies are
peculiarly fitted to undertake. I must own that I think they are best
occupied in such matters as will not require perpetual looking after,
which when they are once done are wholly done, such as the formation of a
park, the making of a survey, the collection of materials for a
legislative measure, and the like. These bodies are called in for an
exigency, and we should be able to contemplate a time when their
functions will cease; or at least when their main work will be done.
Other limits in their choice of objects might be suggested. For
instance, it is desirable that they should address themselves, in
preference, to such purposes as may benefit people indirectly; or such as
concern the public as a body rather than distressed individuals of the
public; or that aim at supplying wants which the people benefited are not
likely in the first instance to estimate themselves. Such is the supply
of air, light, and the means of cleanliness. There is small danger of
corrupting industry by giving any extent of facilities for washing. {233}
While we are on this subject, we must not pass over the societies which
have started up in connexion with our immediate object. These "Baths and
Washhouses for the Poor" are an admirable charity, obvious to very little
of the danger which is apt to threaten benevolent undertakings. It
would, however, be a most serious drawback on their utility, if they were
to render people indifferent to the much greater scheme of giving a
constant supply of water at home. With respect to the building
associations for the improvement of the houses of the poor, their
efforts, as it seems to me, will be most advantageously directed, not in
building houses, but in buying and preparing ground, and letting it out
to the individual builder upon conditions compelling the desired
structural arrangements. In this way they may immensely extend the
sphere of their usefulness. It is not by limiting their profit, and so
insisting upon proving their benevolence, but by giving birth to the
greatest amount of beneficial exertion on the part of individuals, that
they may do most good.
* * * * *
We come now to consider what may be done by individual exertion. Here it
is, that by far the largest field is open for endeavour: here, that
neglect is most injurious. Many a man who subscribes largely to
charities, has created more objects for them, than he has furnished them
with means to relieve, if he has neglected but a little his duties as an
employer of labour, or an owner of property. This mischief arises from
considering charity as something separated from the rest of our
transactions; whereas a wise man weaves it in with them, and finds the
first exercise for it in matters that grow out of his nearest social
relations, as parent, master of a household, employer of labour, and the
like.
The more we look into the question, the more weight, I think, we shall
attach to individual exertion. Take it in all its branches. Consider
the most remarkable impulse ever given to the energies of Europe--the
Crusades. It was an aggregate of individual impulses. Every strong and
enterprising man felt that it was a matter which concerned his own soul.
It was not only that he was to cause something to be done for the great
object, but, if possible, he was to do it himself. A Crusade against
Misery is called for now; and it will only be carried on successfully by
there being many persons who are ready to throw their own life and energy
into the enterprise. Mere mercenary aid alone will never do it.
Look, moreover, at what one man can do. A Chatham springs into power,
and we are told that down to the lowest depths of office a pulsation is
felt which shows that there is a heart once more at the summit of
affairs. The distant sentinel walks with a firmer tread on the banks of
the Ebro, having heard that the Duke has arrived at head quarters. So,
throughout. Every where you find individual energy the sustaining power.
See, in public offices, how it is the two or three efficient men who
carry on the business. It is when some individuals subscribe largely in
time, thought, and energy, to any benevolent association that it is most
like to prosper--for then it most resembles one powerful devoted man.
The adding up of many men's indolence will not do. You think, perhaps,
listless man of rank or wealth, that your order sustains you. Short time
would it do so, but for the worthy individuals who belong to it, and who,
at the full length of the lever, are able to sustain a weight which would
throw the worthless, weightless men into air in a minute.
In the above cases it has been one man wielding much power; but in the
efforts that are wanted to arrest the evils which we have been
considering, the humblest amongst us has a large sphere of action. A
provident labouring man, for example, is a blessing to his family and to
his neighbours; and is thus doing what he best can, to relieve even
national distress.
It is a total mistake to bring, as it were, all the misery and misfortune
together, and say, now find me a remedy large as the evil, to meet it.
Resolve the evil into its original component parts. Imagine that there
had been no such thing as the squandering, drinking, absentee Irish
landlords we read of in the last generation--do you suppose that we
should have as many inhabitants in St. Giles's, and the Liverpool
cellars, to look after now? So, with the English landlords and
manufacturers of that time, see what a subtraction from the general mass
of difficult material there would have been, if those men had done their
duty. But you will say we are still talking of bodies. Imagine, then,
that during the last generation there had been the energetic efforts of
individuals in these bodies, that there are now, directed to the welfare
of the people under them. It would, no doubt, have been a great easement
of the present difficulty. Any body who does his duty to his dependents
keeps a certain number out of the vortex; and his example is nearly sure
to be followed, if he acts in an inoffensive, modest fashion. Dr. Arnott
has shown what great things may be done in the way of ventilation by
individual employers. See what benefit would arise if only some few
builders, taking to heart the present miserable accommodation for the
poor, which few know better than they do, would, in their building
enterprises, speculate also in houses of the smaller kind, and take a
pride in doing the utmost for them.
One might easily multiply instances where individual exertion would come
in; but each man must in some measure find out the fit sphere of action
for him. "The Statesman" tells us that the real wealth of a state is the
number of "serviceable" minds in it. The object of a good citizen should
be to make himself part of this wealth. Let him aid where he can in
benevolent associations, if well assured of their utility, and at the
same time mindful of the duty of private endeavour; but do not let him
think that he is to wait for the State's interference, or for
co-operation of any kind. I do not say that such aids are to be
despised, but that they are not to be waited for, and that the means of
social improvement are in every body's hands. For warfare, men are
formed in masses, and scientific arrangement is the soul of their
proceedings. But industrial conquests and, especially, the conquests of
benevolence, are often made, here somewhat and there somewhat, individual
effort struggling up in a thousand free ways.
* * * * *
The individual freedom which we possess is a great reason for individual
exertion. How large that freedom is, it needs but a slight acquaintance
with the past to estimate. Through what ages have we not toiled to the
conviction that people should not be burnt for their opinions. The
lightest word about dignities, the slightest claim to freedom of thought
or speech upon those matters which, perhaps, angelic natures would hardly
venture to pronounce upon, even the wayward play of morbid imagination,
were not unlikely in former times to lead to signal punishments. A man
might almost in his sleep commit treason, or heresy, or witchcraft. The
most cautious, official-spoken man amongst us, if carried back on a
sudden to the days of Henry the Eighth, would, at the end of the first
week, be pursued by a general hue and cry from the authorities, civil and
ecclesiastical, for his high and heinous words against King, Church, and
State. While now, Alfred Tennyson justly describes our country as
"The land, where girt with friends or foes,
A man may say the thing he will."
There is danger of our losing this freedom if we neglect the duties which
it imposes. But I have resolved to avoid dwelling upon dangers, and
would rather appeal to other motives. The triumph for a nation so
individually free as ours, would be to show that the possible benefits of
despotism belonged to it--that there should be paternal government
without injurious control--that those things should ultimately be
attained by the exertions of many which a despot can devise and execute
at once, but which his successor may, with like facility, efface.
Whereas what is gained for many by many, is not easily got back. It must
be vast embankments indeed which could compel that sea to give up its
conquests.
* * * * *
We have now gone through the principal means by which social remedies may
be effected: there comes the consideration within what limits these means
should be applied. The subject of interference is a most difficult one.
We are greatly mistaken, however, if we suppose that the difficulty is
confined to Government interference. Who does not know of extreme
mischief arising from over-guidance in social relations as well as in
state affairs? The inherent difficulty with respect to any interference,
is a matter which we have to get over in innumerable transactions
throughout our lives. The way in which, as before said, it appears to me
it should be met, is principally by enlightenment as to the purposes of
interference. Look at the causes which are so often found to render
interference mischievous. The governing power is anxious to exalt
itself; instead of giving life and energy, wishes only to absorb them.
Or it is bent upon having some outward thing done, careless of the
principles on which it is done, or of the mode and spirit of doing it.
Hence, in public affairs, things may be carried which have only a show of
goodness, but in reality are full of danger; and in private life, there
arise formality, hypocrisy, and all kinds of surface actions. Or, again,
the governing power is fond of much and minute interference, instead of,
as Burke advises, employing means "few, unfrequent, and strong." There
may also be another error, when from over-tenderness, or want of
knowledge, the authority in question suffers those under its influence to
lean on it, when they are strong enough to walk by themselves. All these
errors are general ones, which require to be guarded against in the
education of a child, as well as in the government of a state. All of
them, too, have their root in an insufficient appreciation of the value
of free effort. But when this is once attained, the interfering party
will see that his efforts should mainly be enabling ones: that he may
come as an ally to those engaged in a contest too great for their
ability; but that he is not to weaken prowess by unneeded meddling. It
may be said that this is vague. I am content to be vague upon a point
where, I believe, the greatest thinkers will be very cautious of laying
down precise rules. Look at what Burke says with regard to state
interference--that it should confine itself to what is "truly and
properly publick, to the publick peace, to the publick safety, to the
publick order, to the publick prosperity." How large a scope do those
words "publick prosperity" afford. Besides, the transactions, in which
we want to ascertain just limits for our interference, are so numerous,
and so various, that they are not to be met but by an inconceivable
multiplicity of rules. Such rules may embody much experience, but they
seldom exhaust the subject which they treat of; and there is the danger
of our suffering them to enslave, instead of merely to guide, our
judgments. And then, on some critical occasion, when the exception, and
not the rule, is in accordance with the principle on which the rule has
been formed, we may commit the greatest folly in keeping to what we fancy
the landmarks of sagacity and experience. Instead, therefore, of laying
down any abstract rules, I will only observe that a prima facie
reluctance to all interference is most reasonable, and perhaps as
necessary in the social world, as friction is in the physical world, in
order to prevent every unguided impulse from having its full mechanical
effect: that, nevertheless, interference must often be resorted to: and
that the best security for acting wisely in any particular case, is not
to suffer ourselves to be narrowly circumscribed by rules, but at the
same time to be very cautious of attempting any mere present good, of
getting notions of our own rapidly carried into action, at the expense of
that freedom and moral effort which are the surest foundations of all
progress.
* * * * *
We were considering, above, the claim which our individual freedom makes
on our individual exertion for the good of others. But this freedom must
in some degree be limited in order to produce its best results; and
amongst them, to secure the greatest amount of such individual exertion.
We know the restraint that must exist upon all, if all are to enjoy equal
freedom. The freedom of one is not to be a terror to another. Law is
based upon this obvious principle. But there are other circumstances
also, in which individuals will find support and comfort in the general
freedom being circumscribed by some interference on the part of the state
or other bodies. Such a case occurs when the great majority of some
class of private individuals would willingly submit to wise regulations
for the general good, but cannot do so without great sacrifice, because
of the selfish recusancy of some few amongst them. Here is a juncture at
which the State might interfere to enable individuals to carry out their
benevolent intentions. But one of the main reasons for some degree of
interference from the State or other authorized bodies, in matters
connected with our present subject, is that, otherwise, the
responsibilities of individuals would be left overwhelming. It is to be
remembered by those who would restrain such interference within the
narrowest possible bounds, that they by so much increase individual
responsibility. Responsibility can, happily, by no scheme, be made to
vanish. Wherever a signal evil exists, a duty lies somewhere to attack
it. Suppose a district, for instance, in which the state of mortality is
excessive, a mortality clearly traceable to the want of sanitary
regulations. In a despotic government it may be enough to mention this
to the central body. In a free state, where the duties of a citizen come
in, more is required from the individual; and if there is no fit body of
any kind to appeal to in such a case, the burden lies upon all men
acquainted with the facts, to endeavour conjointly, or separately, to
remove the evil. While, on the one hand, we must beware of introducing
such interference, whether coming from the State or other bodies, as
might paralyse individual exertion, we must at the same time remember
that the weight to be removed may be left overwhelmingly disproportionate
to individual effort, or even to conjoint effort, if unauthorized, both
of which may thus be stiffened by despair into inaction.
In the instance we have just been considering, we must not say that the
people immediately interested in removing the evil will do so themselves.
It is part of the hypothesis that they will not. Ages have passed by,
and they have not. They do not know what is evil. It has been observed
that savages are rarely civilized by efforts of their own. A vessel from
civilized parts comes and finds them savages. A generation passes away.
Another vessel comes, how differently propelled, how differently
constructed; manned by sailors who have different costume, food, ways of
speech and habits from the former ones; but they are able to recognize at
once the savages described by their forefathers. These have not changed.
The account of them is as exact as if it were written yesterday. In such
a land, we must not look for the germ of improvement amongst the
miserable inhabitants themselves. It must come from without, brought
thither by hopeful, all-sympathizing enterprize.
CHAP. IV.
IN WHAT SPIRIT THE REMEDIES ARE TO BE EFFECTED.
Whenever the condition of the labouring people becomes a general topic,
some erroneous modes of discussing it arise which deserve notice. In the
first place, there is a matter which, in all our friendly efforts for the
working classes, we must not forget, and that is, to make these efforts
with kindliness to other classes. The abuse of other people is an easy
mode of showing our own benevolence, more easy than profitable. To
alleviate the distress of the poor may be no gain, if, in the process, we
aggravate the envies and jealousies which may be their especial
temptation. The spirit to be wished for is sympathy; and that will not
be produced by needless reproaches. Besides, it is such foolish
injustice to lay the blame of the present state of things on any one
class. It is unpractical, unphilosophical, and inconsistent with
history. If we must select any class, do not let us turn to the wealthy,
whom, perhaps, we think of first. They have, in no time that I am aware
of, been the pre-eminent rulers of the world. The thinkers and writers,
they are the governing class. There is no doubt that the rich and great
have in most cases a large sphere of usefulness open to them; and they
are fatally blind, if they neglect it. That is, however, rather a matter
for them to think of, than for those who are under them. And I feel
quite certain that the evils we are now, as a nation, beginning to be
sensitive to, are such as may be more fairly attributed to the nation, in
its collective capacity, than to any one class, or even to any one
generation. I notice the error of the opposite opinion, believing it to
be a signal hindrance to improvement. Let us not begin a great work with
bitterness. I am not, however, for the slightest concealment of the
truth, and can well understand the righteous indignation that will break
out at witnessing the instances of careless cruelty to be seen daily.
Still, this is not to be done by a systematic and undistinguishing attack
upon any one class: if it requires a bold hand, it requires a just one
also, under a reasonable restraint of humility. I suspect that those
men, if any, who have a right to cast the first stone at their neighbour
in this matter will be among the last persons to do so.
It is a grievous thing to see literature made a vehicle for encouraging
the enmity of class to class. Yet this, unhappily, is not unfrequent
now. Some great man summed up the nature of French novels by calling
them the Literature of Despair: the kind of writing that I deprecate may
be called the Literature of Envy. It would be extreme injustice to say
that the writers themselves are actuated by an envious or malignant
spirit. It is often mere carelessness on their part, or ignorance of the
subject, or a want of skill in representing what they do know. You would
never imagine from their writings that some of the most self-denying
persons, and of those who exert themselves most for the poor, are to be
found amongst the rich and the well-born, including of course the great
Employers of labour. Such writers like to throw their influence, as they
might say, into the weaker scale. But that is not the proper way of
looking at the matter. Their business is not to balance class against
class, but to unite all classes into one harmonious whole. I think if
they saw the ungenerous nature of their proceedings, that alone would
stop them. They should recollect that literature may fawn upon the
masses as well as on the aristocracy: and in these days the temptation is
in the former direction. But what is most grievous in this kind of
writing, is the mischief it may do to the working people themselves. If
you have their true welfare at heart, you will not only care for their
being fed and clothed; but you will be anxious not to encourage
unreasonable expectations in them, not to make them ungrateful or
greedy-minded. Above all, you will be solicitous to preserve some
self-reliance in them. You will be careful not to let them think that
their condition can be wholly changed without exertion of their own. You
would not desire to have it so changed. Once elevate your ideal of what
you wish to happen amongst the labouring population; and you will not
easily admit anything in your writings that may injure their moral or
their mental character, even if you thought it might hasten some physical
benefit for them. That is the way to make your genius most serviceable
to mankind. Depend upon it, honest and bold things require to be said to
the lower as well as to the higher classes; and the former are in these
times much less likely to have such things addressed to them.
* * * * *
In the same way that we are fond of laying the neglect, and the duty, of
exertion upon some class, even on our own, rather than on our especial
selves, we are much given to look for something new which, in a magical
manner, is to settle the whole difficulty. But when people look for a
novelty of this kind, what do they mean? Some moral novelty? The
Christian religion has been eighteen hundred years before the world, and
have we exhausted the morality in that? Some political novelty? We are
surely the nation, whose constitution, whatever may be said against it,
has been most wrought and tempered by diverse thought and action. Some
novelty in art or science? Where has man attained to a greater mastery
over matter than in this iron-shearing country? The utmost that one age
can be expected to do in the way of discovery is but little; and that
little by few men. Let us sit down and make use of what we have. The
stock out of which national welfare might be formed lies in huge,
unworked-up masses before us. Social improvement depends upon general
moral improvement. Moral improvement mostly comes, and at least is most
safely looked for, not in the way of acquisition but of development.
Now, as regards the conduct of the various classes of the state to each
other, we do not want any new theory about it, but only to develop that
kindly feeling which is already in the world between like and like, which
makes a parent, for instance, so kind even to the faults of his children.
We want that feeling carried over all the obstructions of imperfect
sympathy which hedge it in now. This will be done by both classes
knowing more of each other. One of the great reasons for the education
of the people is, that even educating them a little enables rich and poor
to understand each other better--in fact, to live more harmoniously
together. If our sympathies were duly enlightened and enlarged, we
should find that we did not need one doctrine for our conduct to friends,
another for our conduct to dependents, and another for our conduct to
neighbours. One spirit would suffice to guide us rightly in all these
relations. The uninstructed man looking around him on the universe, and
seeing a wonderful variety of appearances, is inclined to imagine that
there are numberless laws and substances essentially different, little
knowing from how few of either the profusion of beauty in the world is
formed. But the creative energy of what we call Nature, dealing with few
substances, breaks out into every form and colour of loveliness. Here,
we have the dainty floweret which I would compare to the graceful
kindnesses passing among equals; there, the rich corn-field like the
substantial benefits which the wise master-worker confers on those around
him; here again, the far-spreading oak which, with its welcome depth of
shade, may remind us of the duties of protection and favour due from the
great to the humble; and there, the marriage of the vine to the elm, a
similitude for social and domestic affection. The kindnesses to which I
have compared these various products of Nature, are also of one spirit,
and may be worked out with few materials. Indeed, one man may in his
life manifest them all. No new discovery, no separate teaching, for each
branch of this divine knowledge, is needed.
I do not say that there may not be physical discoveries, or legislative
measures, which may greatly aid in improving the condition of the
labouring classes. But, if we observe how new things come, in our own
life for instance, or in the course of history, we shall find that they
seldom come in the direction in which we are looking out for them. They
fall behind us; and, while we are gazing about for the novelty, it has
come down and has mingled with the crowd of old things, and we did not
know it. Let us begin working on the old and obvious foundations, and we
shall be most ready to make use of what new aid may come, if we do not
find an almost inexhaustible novelty in what we deemed so commonplace.
There is no way of burnishing up old truths like acting upon them.
You may rely upon it that it is one of the most unwholesome and
unworkmanlike states of mind to be looking about for, and relying upon,
some great change which is all of a sudden to put you into a position to
do your duty in a signal manner. Duty is done upon truisms.
But let discoveries in morals or in physics have come; suppose any extent
of political amelioration you please; and grant that the more outward
evils have been conquered by combined effort. Let our drains flow like
rivulets, and imagine that light and air permeate those dwellings which
now moulder in a loathsome obscurity. Let the poor be cared for in their
health, their amusements, their education, and their labour. Still the
great work for an employer of labour remains for ever to be renewed; that
which consists in the daily intercourse of life, in that perpetual
exercise of care and kindness concerning those small things which, small
as they may be, are nevertheless the chief part of men's lives. Perhaps
the greatest possible amelioration of the human lot is to be found in the
improvement of our notions of the duties of master to man. It were hard
to say what could be named as an equivalent for even a slight improvement
in that respect, seeing that there is no day in which millions upon
millions of transactions do not come within its limits. If this relation
were but a little improved, with what a different mind would the great
mass of men go to their work in the morning, from the slave who toils
amid rice fields in Georgia to the serf in Lithuanian forests. Nor would
those far above the extremes of serfdom fail to reap a large part of the
benefit. It cannot be argued that civilization renders men independent:
it often fastens but more firmly the fetters of servitude--at least it
binds them upon limbs more easy to be galled. Its tendency is to give
harsh words the power of blows. Consider what a thing it is to be
master. To have the king-like privilege of addressing others first, to
comment for ever on their conduct, while you are free from any reciprocal
animadversion. Think what an immeasurable difference it must make,
whether your subordinate feels that all he does is sure to be taken for
the best, that he will meet with continual graciousness, that he has a
master who is good lord and brother to him: or whether he lives in
constant doubt, timidity, and discomfort, with a restless desire of
escape ever uppermost in his mind. I do not apply this only to the
ordinary relation of master and servant. You sometimes see the most
cruel use made even of a slight social superiority, where the cruelty is
enhanced by the education and other advantages of the suffering party.
To say nothing of Christianity, there is the greatest want of chivalry in
such proceedings, in whatever rank they take place, whether from masters
to servants, employers to employed, or in those more delicately
constituted relationships just alluded to. In all our intercourse with
those who have not a full power of replying to us, instead of being the
less restrained on this account, which is the case with most of us, the
weakness on the other side ought to be an irresistible claim to
gentleness on ours. The same applies when what is naturally the weaker,
being guarded by social conventionalities on its side, is in reality the
stronger, and is tempted into insolence, thus abusing the humanity of the
world. But, let us turn from the abuse of power, and see what it is when
wielded by discerning hands. It is like a healthful atmosphere to all
within its boundaries. Other benefits come and go, but this is inhaled
at every breath, and forms the life of the man who lives under it. It is
a perpetual harmony to him, "songs without words," while he is at his
work. One of the most striking instances we have had in modern times of
this just temperament of a master was to be noted in Sir Walter Scott.
The people dependent upon him were happier, I imagine, than you could
have made them, if you had made them independent. If you could have
distributed, as it were, Scott's worldly prosperity, you cannot easily
conceive that it would have produced more good than when it fell full on
him, and was forthwith radiated to all around him. You may say that this
was partly the result of genius. Be it so. Genius is, by the definition
of it, one of the highest gifts. If, with humble means, we can produce
some of its effects, it is great gain. Without, however, wishing to
depreciate the attaching influence of genius, we must, I think, attribute
much of this admirable bearing in Scott to an essential kindliness of
nature and a deep sense of humanity. If he had possessed no peculiar
gifts of expression or imagination, and quietly followed the vocation of
his father, a writer to the Signet, he would have been loved in his
office as he was on his estate; and old clerks would have been Laidlaws
and Tom Purdies to him. Scott would under any circumstances have
insisted on being loved: he would have been "a good lord and brother" to
any man or set of men over whom he had the least control. You cannot
make out that true graciousness of his to be a mere love of feudal
usages. It is the best thing that remains of him, better than all his
writings, if, indeed, it were not visible throughout them.
The duties of master to man are the more important, because, however much
the relation may vary in its outward form, it will not be mapped down as
in this or that latitude, but remains as pervading as the air. We may
have brought down the word charity to its most abject sense, considering
what is but the husk of it to be the innermost kernel. Mere symbols of
it may go on. In times, when few things were further apart than charity
and papal sway, the popes still went through the form of washing poor
men's feet. But that symbol has a wondrous significance--the depth of
service which is due from all masters, the humble charity which should
ever accompany true lordship and dominion.
* * * * *
When considering in what spirit our remedies should be attempted, one of
the most important things to be urged is, that it should be in a spirit
of hopefulness.
In one of Dr. Arnold's letters there is the following passage. "'Too
late,' however, are the words which I should be inclined to affix to
every plan for reforming society in England; we are ingulfed, I believe,
inevitably, and must go down the cataract; although ourselves, i.e. you
and I, may be in Hezekiah's case, and not live to see the catastrophe."
Similar forebodings were uttered on other occasions by this eminently
good man in the latter years of his life. I quote the passage to show
how deep must have been the apprehension of danger and distress which
could so depress him; and, more especially, for the purpose of protesting
against any similar despondency which I fear to be very prevalent in
these times. It mainly arises, as it seems to me, from a confusion
between the term of our own life and that of the state. We see a cloud
which overshadows our own generation, and we exclaim that the heavens and
earth are coming together. How often, in reading history, does a similar
feeling occur to us. We think, how can the people we are reading of
revive after this whirlwind of destruction! Imagine how much more they
themselves must have felt despondency. A Northumbrian looking upon
William the Conqueror's devastations--a monk considering the state of
things around him in the exterminating contest of Stephen and Matilda, or
the wars of the Roses--the remaining one of a family swept off by some of
those giant epidemics which desolated our towns in the fourteenth
century--a member of the defeated party in the struggles of the
Reformation, the Rebellion, or the Revolution--what would any such person
have prophesied as to the fate of his country? How little would he have
foreseen the present plethoric, steam-driving, world-conquering England!
So with us. We too have evils, perhaps of as large dimension, though in
some respects of a totally different character from those which our
forefathers endured--and did not sink under. Nothing is to be shunned
more than Despair. How profound is the wisdom which has placed Hope in
the front rank of Christian virtues. For is it not the parent of
endeavour? And in this particular matter, the improvement of our social
condition, the more we examine it, the more we shall discover cause for
hope. The evils are so linked together that a shock given to any one
would electrify the whole mass of evil. Take an instance. Suppose that
those who have the means bestir themselves to improve the houses of the
poor. See what good will flow from that. Physical suffering is
diminished; but that is, perhaps, the least thing. Cleanly and
economical habits are formed; domestic occupations are increased; more
persons live through the working period of life; and a class is formed
low down in the body politic who are attached to something, for a man who
has the tenancy of a good house to lose, is not altogether destitute.
And under what circumstances is all this done? By the more influential
classes taking a kindly concern in a matter in which all are deeply
interested. This is not the least part of the good. Indeed, without it,
all the rest, however excellent in itself, would lack its most engaging
features. Seeing then in one instance how much good may be done even
with slight efforts, we may determine to resist despondency. To yield to
it, even but a little, is to help in building up the trophy for the other
side.
Although we must not listen to despondency, we must not, on the other
hand, attempt to conceal from ourselves that this subject, the "condition
of England question" as it has been called, is oppressively large; or
suppose that it can be dealt with otherwise than by ever-growing vigour.
At the present moment public attention is unusually fixed upon it. But
this may be of brief duration. The public soon becomes satiated with any
subject. Some foreign war, or political contest, may all at once turn
its looks in far other directions. But the social remedies that we have
been talking of, are not things to be finished by a single stroke. We
cannot expect to complete them just while the daylight of public opinion
is with us. The evil to be struggled against is a thing entwined with
every fibre of the body politic. It is enough to occupy the whole mind
of the age; and demands the best energies of the best minds. It should
be a "Thirty years' war" against sloth and neglect. It requires men who
will persevere through public favour or disfavour, who can subdue their
own fastidiousness, be indifferent to ingratitude, tolerant of folly, who
can endure the extreme vexation of seeing their most highly prized
endeavours thwarted by well intentioned friends, and who are not
dependent for reward upon those things which are addressed to vanity or
to ambition.
* * * * *
After a long fit of distress which, for the poorer classes, may almost be
called a seven years' famine, we are now apparently entering upon one of
our periodic times of prosperity. You hear of thousands of additional
"hands" being wanted, of new mills rising up, and at last of a revival of
the home trade. It is one of those "breathing spaces" in which we can
look back with less despondency, and forward with some deliberation.
Each man's apprehensions for his own fortunes need no longer absorb his
whole attention. Yet one cannot observe all this clashing and whizzing
of machinery, this crowding on our quays, this contention of railway
projects, and the general life and hum of renewed activity, without a
profound fear and sadness lest such things should pass on, as their
predecessors have passed, leaving only an increased bulk of unhandy
materials to be dealt with. It is one of those periods upon which the
historian, armed with all that wisdom which a knowledge of the result can
furnish him, may thus dilate in measured sentences. "A time of nearly
seven years of steady distress had now elapsed; nor can it be said, that
this distress had been lightly regarded by thoughtful minds, or that its
salutary process had not commenced. The question of the condition of the
labouring classes had in a measure become prominent. The Essayist
moralized about it after his fashion; the lover of statistics arrayed his
fearful lists of figures to show its nature and extent; the writer of
fiction wove it into his tale; the journalist found it a topic not easily
to be exhausted: old men shook their heads over it; and the young, to the
astonishment of the world, began to talk of it as a matter of pressing
interest to them. Now was the time when Great Britain might have looked
into this question. But a return of prosperity, which we must almost
call insidious, lulled attention. Sickness and adversity are soon
forgotten. And this nation awoke as from a bad dream which it was by no
means desirous of recalling in its daylight reminiscences." My friends,
let us not give an opportunity to the historian to moralize upon us in
this manner. If we are employers of labour, let us bethink ourselves
that now is the time for persuading our men to do something for
themselves; now is the time for getting improvements made in our town and
neighbourhood, the public being in a cheerful mood; now, too, we can
ourselves adventure something for the good of those around us. Do not
let us be anxious to drain the cup of prosperity to its last drop,
holding it up so that we see nothing but it. Let us carry ourselves
forward in imagination, and then look backward on what we are doing now.
That is the way to master the present, for the best part of foresight is
in the reflex. What matter is it how many thousands of pounds we make,
compared to how we make them?
"Yes," some one will reply, "the imaginary historian deserves to be
heard. This is the time for the nation to do something. Really a
Government with a surplus should put all things to rights." Oh, these
unhappy collective nouns, what have they not to answer for! This word
"nation," for instance: we substitute it instead of writing down some
millions of names, a convenience not altogether to be despised. But
yours, my friend, is there. The word nation is not an abstract idea; but
means an aggregate of human beings. No individual man is eliminated by
this process of abbreviation. Your being one of a nation is to enrich
you with duties, not to deprive you of them. But these large words often
soothe us into obliviousness. It puts one in mind of long algebraical
operations in which the student has wholly lost sight of reality, and is
driving on his symbols, quite unable to grasp their significance. This
may be well enough for him, for eventually some result comes out which
can be verified. But if we, in active life, play with general terms, we
do not come to such distinct results, but only get into profound
confusion, as it will be in this case, if we expect great things to
happen from some combined effort in their corporate capacity of those
who, as individuals, are looking on.
* * * * *
Before we leave off, let us look at the subject in its full scope. A
large portion of our fellow countrymen are living, not in a passive state
of distress, but in one which manufactures rapidly disease, and poverty,
and crime. I think it has been shown that it is in the power of other
classes to raise this condition. At any rate it is in their power to
make the attempt. There is no occasion for waiting--each of us can do
something to-day in this matter. Now consider what would be the effect
of success in these endeavours. Let us not take the other result as
probable; or, even in hypothesis, draw any picture that might make
despondency plausible. Suppose, then, the success of individual, or
united efforts, in raising the condition of the labouring classes. What
an undivided good it is. Has any man some particular reform at heart,
some especial hopes for his race? Where can he look for such a basis to
rest upon as in the improved condition of the largest layer of the
people? What a field it opens for science, literature, and art. What
freedom may it not give to the highest ranges of thought.
I cannot think the destinies of our race an unimproving matter of
contemplation, and that it savours of presumption, or of needless
forelooking, to reflect on these things. A notable portion of the great
human family utters every day a prayer in which the individual supplicant
asks, not for himself alone, even those blessings which he can
individually enjoy, but also, and first, implores those general blessings
which include the welfare of his own race at least. What is the meaning
of this, if we are to take no interest in the general welfare, or not, by
every means in our power, to aid in it?
In the better order of men there is a desire for social improvement
totally independent of all thought of personal gain. Bishop Butler saw
in the fact, that there were persons who devoted themselves to a pursuit
so remote from worldly ends as astronomy, a wonderful instance of the
innate consciousness in man of his high origin and destiny. But an
earnest and unselfish love of social progress, is a far more satisfying
sign that the impress of good is not altogether effaced, and that men are
not wholly isolated by worldliness from the future and the past.
"Hence, in a season of calm weather,
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the Children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore."
FINIS.
APPENDIX.
The following table shows the progressive decrease in the sum of vitality
in the three classes of the inhabitants of Preston. The calculations are
founded on the ages at death for the six years ending June 30, 1843:--
1. Gentry. 2. Tradesmen. 3. Operatives.
Born 100 100 100
Remaining at 90.8 79.6 68.2
the end of 1st
year
,, 2nd year 87.6 73.5 57.5
,, 5th year 82.4 61.8 44.6
,, 10th year 81.1 56.6 38.8
,, 20th year 76.3 51.6 31.5
,, 30th year 72.3 45.9 25.2
,, 40th year 63.4 37.5 20.4
,, 50th year 56. 28.1 15.6
,, 60th year 45.1 20.5 11.2
,, 70th year 25.4 13.3 6.1
,, 80th year 8. 4.5 2.1
,, 90th year 1.3 .8 .2
,, 100th year . . . . .03
Terminates in Terminates in Terminates in
the 92nd year. the 96th year. the 103rd year.
_Evidence of Rev. J. Clay_. _Health of Towns Report_, _page_ 174.
The following table shows the progressive decrease in the vitality of the
three classes from the age of 21 years:--
Gentry, &c. Tradesmen, &c. Operatives.
21 years old 100 100 100
Remaining at 30 94.7 89.4 79.7
years old
,, 40 years old 83.2 73.2 63.7
,, 50 years old 73.4 55.0 48.9
,, 60 years old 59.1 40.4 34.6
,, 70 years old 33.4 26.5 18.9
,, 80 years old 10.8 9.6 7.1
,, 90 years old 1.6 1.5 1.1
,, 100 years . . . . 0.6
old
Terminates at Terminates at Terminates at
92 years. 96 years. 103 years.
_Evidence of Rev. J. Clay_. _Health of Towns Report_, _page_ 175.
1. Saving by one-third of the actual number of 1,240 pounds
Deaths. The expense of each being estimated at
2_l._ 10_s._
2. Saving in the excess of Births beyond 1 in 44 827 pounds
of the Population; the expense of each Birth
being taken at 1_l._
3. Saving in day's labour from sickness, 7,047 pounds
estimating one-third of the cases out of the
expense. 16,710 Cases.
4. Reduction by one-half of the existing expense 501 pounds
of Widowhood and Orphanage, the amount taken from
the actual expenditure.
5. Saving in the expense of Insurance, by 15,000 pounds
keeping the water on night and day, so as to be
in readiness at one minute's notice. Estimated
on half the number of Houses at 6_s._ per House.
6. Saving of Productive Manure estimated at 25,000 pounds
10_s._ per head on the whole Population. All
liquid and solid Manure and Street Sweepings
being carried out of Town by the Sewers.
7. Saving in Washing, &c. consequent on the 10,450 pounds
burning of Factory Smoke. Estimated at 1_d._ per
head per week of the Population.
8. Saving of outside painting of Shops and 1,250 pounds
Houses; estimating the cost per House at 25_s._
and the saving at one-fourth of the sum.
pounds _s._ _d._
Total annual saving to the town 47,815 0 0
Total weekly saving to the town 919 10 4
Total annual saving to each house 4 15 7
Total weekly saving to each house 0 1 10
Total annual saving to each 0 19 1
individual
Total weekly saving to each 0 0 4.25
individual
_Evidence of Rev. J. Clay_. _Health of Towns Report_, _page_ 197.
Total A. B. C. D.
Number of Cost per House for Capital. Rent per House. Total Total Increased Rental
Houses. Outlay. required defraying by
Annual Instalments of
Principal and Interest of
20 Years for the House
cleansing and Water
Apparatus, and 30 Years for
Sewers and Drains.
pounds _s._ _d._ _s._ _d._ pounds pounds _s._ _d._
1. In want of water 5,000 0 10 0 0 6 2,500 200 15 0
2. . . . main sewer 10,000 0 5 0 0 2 2,500 162 12 6
. . . secondary do. 7,919 2 9 6 2 6 19,599 1,274 18 9
3. . . . house-drains 10,000 0 15 0 0 9 7,500 487 17 9
4. . . . water closets 10,000 2 0 0 2 0 20,000 1,606 1 0
5. . . . ventilation 10,000 0 15 0 0 9 7,500 602 4 6
6. . . . street-sweeping 10,000 . . . 9 3 . . 4,625 0 0
pounds _s._ _d._
Total immediate expenditure of 51,599 0 0
capital required for the
improvement of the town
Total increased rental 8,959 9 8
(including the annual expense
of street-sweeping)
Immediate expenditure for each 5 19 3
house
Total increased annual rent 0 15 11
for each house
Total increased weekly rent 0 0 3.75
for each house
Immediate expenditure per head 1 3 9
of the population
Annual expenditure per head of 0 3 6.5
the population
Weekly expenditure per head of 0 0 0.75 14/52
the population
_Evidence of Rev. J. Clay_. _Health of Towns Report_, _page_ 196.
DR. ARNOTT TO THE AUTHOR, ON THE SUBJECT OF VENTILATION.
Bedford Square, January, 1845.
MY DEAR SIR,
To aid the memory of persons inquiring about the means of preserving
health, I have elsewhere endeavoured to mark clearly, that the four
things, fit _air_, _temperature_, _aliment_, and _exercise_, are all that
need to be secured, and the two things _violence_ and _poisons_ all that
need to be avoided, by men of sound constitution, that they may enjoy
uninterrupted health and long life;--and consequently that the causes of
all other disease than the decay from age are to be looked for in errors
committed in regard to these four necessaries, or in the direct influence
of these two kinds of noxious agents. The tabular view on the opposite
page {282}, now to be examined, exhibits the subject to the eye.
* * * * *
In some moderately warm and uniform climates of the earth, such as the
Azores or Western Isles in the Atlantic, the two first mentioned
necessaries, viz. fit temperature and pure air, are so constantly present
that the inhabitants no more think of them as necessaries to be laboured
for than they think of the gravitation which holds their bodies to the
earth as such a necessary. But in colder, or changing climates, to
procure house-shelter, clothing, and fuel, for cold weather becomes a
very considerable part of the necessary business of life. And where food
is dear, that is to say, obtainable only as the reward of much labour, as
is true in England, the amountof labour which individuals can perform
with safety to their health, is often not sufficient to supply all the
urgent wants.
Exposure to temperature lower than what suits the human constitution is
so severely felt, that persons, even before fixed disease has arisen as a
consequence, cannot remain indifferent to it; and how little soever some
minds are disposed to reflect or speculate on such subjects, there are
few who are not aware that all the diseases which in this and other
climates are called winter diseases, as catarrhs, quinsies, pleurisies,
croups, rheumatisms, &c. &c. are consequences of error in regard to
temperature. But only persons whose attention has been specially
directed to the subject become fully aware of the fatal influence of that
want of fresh air which the closeness or otherwise faulty construction of
dwellings occasions. The immediate effect is little felt, although the
insidious enemy is unfailingly producing diseases perhaps more
destructive even than those from cold, above enumerated. Impaired bodily
and mental vigour, and the scrofulous constitution which renders persons
more liable to many diseases and among these to consumption, the
destroyer at present of about a sixth part of the inhabitants of Britain,
may be cited as part of the effects.
In England, as yet, many singular and hurtful misconceptions prevail on
the subjects of both warming and ventilating. The object of a little
work which I published some time ago on these subjects, was to substitute
for the misconceptions correct knowledge, and to describe some new and
simple means of obtaining the objects sought. A considerable change,
however, in common opinions and habits is not easily effected, and the
co-operation of many labourers will be required to accomplish all that is
here wanted. In a new edition of the book, now in preparation, I have
attempted to convert some remarkable errors that have been committed in
public situations into useful warnings or lessons for the future. It is
but recently that even the members of our Houses of Parliament became
aware that many of their body formerly had lost health, and even life,
from want of a complete ventilation of the Houses, easy to be effected.
And at present the havoc made in the crowded workrooms of milliners,
tailors, printers, &c. and the injury done to young health in many
schools, from similar want of knowledge, are most painful to contemplate.
Without the requisite knowledge very expensive attempts are made with
little or no benefit; with that knowledge, the desired ends may be
completely attained at little cost.
The great error committed in regard to ventilation has been the want of
an outlet in or near the cieling of rooms, for the air rendered impure in
them by the breathing of inmates and the burning of candles, lamps, gas,
&c. At present the only outlet of English rooms is the fire place or
chimney opening near the floor. But all the impurities above referred to
rise at once towards the cieling, because of the lessened specific
gravity of air when heated, and there they would at once escape by a fit
opening. Where there is no such opening, however, they become diffused
in the upper air of the room, and can escape only slowly by diving under
the chimney-piece as that air is changed. Thus the air of a room above
the level of the fire-place, whenever there are people or lights in the
room, must always be loaded, more or less, with impurity. The purest air
of the room is that near the floor, being the last that entered, and the
coolest, therefore and heaviest specifically; and with this the fire is
fed, while the hotter impure air remains almost stagnant above, around
the heads and mouths of the company. To remove the evil here referred
to, I have shown, that even with an open fire, if the throat of the
chimney be properly narrowed by a register flap, an opening made near the
cieling into the chimney flue, with a valve in it to allow air from the
room to enter the chimney, but allowing no smoke to come out--will serve
very effectually; and that where there is no open fire the ventilation
can, by the means described, be made still more complete.
The great error with respect to warming in rooms for many inmates has
been to have all the heat radiating (none being given off by contact)
from one focus or fire place, persons near to which consequently must
receive too much, and those far from which will receive too little; while
the supply of fresh air enters, cold, at a few openings chiefly, and
pours dangerously on persons sitting near these. In common rooms, with
open fires, the evils described may be lessened considerably by admitting
fresh air through tubes or channels which open either near the fire, or
all along the skirtings so that the fresh air is equally distributed over
the room and mixed with the mass of air previously in it: but to have
what is desirable, the air before distribution must be warmed by some of
the simple means now known, as of warm channels in the brick work around
the fire, or of the air being made to come into contact with the surface
of properly regulated stoves, or tubes containing heated water. I have
given detailed accounts of these means in the publication above referred
to; and I have contrived and described various regulators applicable to
stoves and to the furnaces of hot-water apparatus, which give complete
command over the rate of combustion, and save nearly all the ordinary
trouble of watching fires.
Then, to give complete efficiency to both the warming and ventilating
apparatus described, I have had made a simple air-mover, or ventilating
pump, which may be worked by a weight, like a kitchen jack, or by a
treddle, like a spinning-wheel or turning-lathe; and which, in all states
of wind and of temperature, will deliver by measure any quantity of air
into or out of any inclosed space.
The means of ventilating and of warming now referred to, may in different
cases be adopted in part or in whole. In the dwellings of the poor of
cities, where the same room serves for all purposes,--working at a trade,
sleeping, cooking, and is never unoccupied, a brick taken out of the
wall, from near the cieling, over the fireplace, so as to leave there an
opening into the chimney-flue, removes great part of the evil; and if a
simple chimney-valve, which I have described, allowing air freely to
enter the chimney, but no smoke to return, be added, and there be an
additional opening made in some convenient part of the wall or window to
admit and distribute fresh air, where air enough cannot enter by the
crevices and joints about the door and window, the arrangement might be
deemed for such places complete. Even in a milliner's or tailor's
crowded work room a larger opening of this kind into the chimney, with
its balanced valve, and with a branching tube having inverted funnel
mouths over the gas lamps, or other lights, and conveying all the burned
air to the valved opening {287} in the chimney, is so great an
improvement on present practice, that many would deem it perfection. To
this, however, may be added, at little cost, an opening for admitting,
and channels behind the skirting for distributing, the fresh air; and to
make the thing really complete, there must be also the means, by a stove
or by hot water pipes, of warming the air before its distribution; and
there must be the ventilating pump to inject and measure air when such
action may be required. During the winter, in many cases the chimney
draught would be sufficient to produce the desired currents of air
without the pump.
All the means here spoken of have already been and are in satisfactory
operation in various places. The chimney-valves have been made by Mr.
Slater, gas-fitter, 23, Denmark Street, Soho, and Mr. Edwards, 20, Poland
Street, Oxford Street. The pump by Mr. Bowles, 58, Great Coram Street,
and Mr. Williams, 25, Upper Cleveland Street. The stoves by Mr. Edwards,
Poland Street, Messrs. Bramah and Co. Piccadilly, Messrs. Bailey,
Holborn, and others.
I am, my dear sir,
yours very truly,
N. ARNOTT.
* * * * *
CHARLES WHITTINGHAM, CHISWICK.
THE FOUR NECESSARIES.
In fit Kind and In Deficiency. In Excess.
Degree.
1. AIR Suffocation Excess of Oxygen.
Unchanged Air.
2. TEMPERATURE Cold (intense) Heat (intense.)
3. ALIMENT:--
Food Hunger Gluttony, or Surfeit.
Drink Thirst Swilling water.
4. EXERCISE:--
Of the body Inaction or Fatigue or
Exhaustion.
Of the mind Ennui Want of Sleep.
Certain depressing Certain exciting
passions, as fear, passions, as anger,
sorrow, &c. jealousy, &c.
Of the mixed Solitude Debauchery.
social aptitudes.
THE TWO NOXIOUS AGENTS.
1. VIOLENCE:--
Wounds,--Fractures,--Burns, &c.--Lightning.
9. POISONS:--
Animal, Mineral, Vegetable.
Certain of these, such as _alcohol_ in its various forms, opium, tobacco,
&c. which in large quantities kill instantly, when they are taken in very
moderate quantity can be borne with apparent impunity, and are sometimes
classed as articles of sustenance, or they may be medicinal, but if taken
beyond such moderation, they become to the majority of men destructive
slow poisons.
Contagions,--as of plague, small-pox, and measles.
Malaria of marshes, thickets, and of filth.
Footnotes:
{147} See Appendix.
{202} "There are several thousand gratings which are utterly useless on
account of their position, and positively injurious from their
emanations."--Mr. Dyce Guthrie. Health of Towns Report, vol. ii. p. 255.
{209} "To give an idea of the principle of contour lines, we may suppose
a hill, or any elevation of land covered with water, and that we want to
trace the course of all the levels at every 4 feet of vertical height;
suppose the water to subside 4 feet at a time, and that at each
subsidence the line of the water's edge is marked on the hill; when all
the water is withdrawn, supposing the hill to be 24 feet high, it will be
marked with a set of six lines, denoting the contours of each of the
levels, exactly 4 feet above each other."--Mr. Butler Williams's evidence
before the Health of Towns Commission.
{214a} See Mr. Toynbee's Evidence. Health of Towns Report, vol. i. pp.
87, 88.
{214b} See Dr. Arnott's Evidence. Health of Towns Report, vol. i. pp.
45, 46.
{215a} See Dr. Guy's Evidence. Health of Towns Report, vol. i. p. 92.
{215b} In St. George's, Southwark, out of 1467 persons who received
parochial relief, 1276 are reported to have been ill with fever.
{233} The mischief that may be done by associations for benevolent
purposes, when ill-directed, is admirably shown in a pamphlet on the
subject of Visiting Societies by "Presbyter Catholicus." James Darling,
Little Queen Street, 1844. One of the objects of this pamphlet is to
show that the command addressed to alms-givers "not to let their left
hand know what their right hand doeth," concerns the receiver as much as
the giver--that "a man's alms will be converted into a source of almost
unmixed evil, if their distribution become a subject of notoriety," which
is the case in public charities. This, like most general propositions,
is not to be construed over strictly; but there is much truth in it,
(especially if we take the word "alms" in its most restricted sense) and
it deserves to be weighed carefully by all who wish to render their
benevolence most available.
{282} The tabular view has been moved to the end of the letter in this
Project Gutenberg transcription.--DP.
{287} The author of this book has tried one of these "valved openings"
recommended by Dr. Arnott, and has found it answer very well.