The elaborate schemes which have been propounded in attempts to solve
the much-vexed riddle how best and most effectually to ameliorate the
condition of the working-classes--such as Owenism, Fourierism, and such
like--have had their inception in the minds of philanthropists outside
and above our circle. They have been conceived for the most part with a
genuine feeling of the immense importance of this, the most burning and
momentous question of modern days, and illumined in many cases with deep
philosophic insight; yet, as it is almost impossible for any but a born
proletarian to understand the needs, the wants and the daily lives of
the proletarian, it is not unreasonable to suppose that the absence of
this special knowledge may have contributed somewhat to the
unworkableness of the various systems proposed. Beyond this, however, it
strikes me that most of them contained a fatal flaw, inherent in their
constitutions. They were too ambitious, aimed at too much, and were
altogether of so revolutionary and subversive a character as to alarm
the great majority of those whose goodwill must be obtained before it
can be possible to reduce any theory to experiment on a sufficiently
extended scale to enable an unprejudiced observer to pronounce
decisively on the result accomplished.
Were it not that the accident of my having been thrown by birth and
association amongst the very poorest of the poor ("but indifferent
honest") community of a large city may enable me to supplement to some
extent the ideas enunciated by benevolent theorists belonging to the
upper strata of society, I should not have the temerity to seek to pass
out of the region of the "eternal silences." Moreover, I do not announce
a new and perfect evangel to be ushered in by loud flourish of trumpets.
I aim at nothing more ambitious than to be allowed to offer a few hints
as to the direction which I conceive future gospels of humanity must
take in order to be of practical utility.
Having thus endeavoured to justify myself for rushing in where sometimes
"angels fear to tread," I have no intention of apologizing for the
crudeness of my ideas, or my lack of grace in literary composition.
Taking into consideration the small amount of elementary education
drilled into me at a charity school for a brief period of my very
juvenile days, and the continued absence of any duly qualified
instructor since, "all that goes without saying."
One more egotistical, or egoistical, remark, and I proceed. I am in no
sense a _specialist_. I am neither a Good Templar nor a Convivial Toper;
neither a disciple of Nihilism, nor any other school of advanced thought
(so called), nor a bigoted sectarian. I am a private in neither the
ranks of bovine Toryism nor of rabid Radicalism; but I write simply as
one of that common ruck of ordinary practical working men, which in
reality forms the great staple of our plebiscite, although certain very
noisy and turbulent minorities may possibly have led to a contrary
inference.
In the erection of my little structure, I, like all other architects,
require a good foundation as the basis of operations; and in the present
case the foundation required is simply a desire on the part of those
bipeds who stand erect on pedestals for an increased knowledge of their
fellows who crawl and kneel and lie in a thousand and one contorted
postures on the miry clay. Enlarged knowledge will bring enlarged
sympathy for each other on the part of high and low alike. As matters
now stand, those above us never really see us in undress. When they come
across us we are either too slavishly sycophantic or too ruggedly
independent,--both being masks donned for the occasion,--and not in any
sense our natural selves; and I have a dim kind of suspicion that on the
few occasions when gentlemen voluntarily come forward and try to make us
believe that they are taking us into their confidence--on the hustings,
say, for instance--some disguise of the same kind may be adopted, and
that the features we then see are not altogether the real ones. If I am
right in this assumption, how is it possible for either class to have
anything like a competent knowledge of the other? Indeed, I do not think
I should be far wrong in saying that the manners and customs of the
Fijian Islanders and other aborigines of distant lands are better known
generally to the upper ten thousand than those of the lower native
millions; and, of course, the converse holds equally good. Domestic
servants, perhaps, may be said to form exceptions to this latter rule,
seeing that they often have peeps into the innermost arcana; but as they
are for the most part--the male portion of them at all events--more
utterly inexplicable beings than their masters, the general fund of
information is not much increased through that channel. Flunkeydom is
much more insufferable and incomprehensible to the general run of us
than swelldom itself.
Granted, however, the desire for a better acquaintance with their
humbler brethren on the part of our aristocracy and plutocracy (for
this, like all other good things, must _descend_ from above), it will be
found that, as a mutual understanding of each other's peculiarities is
increased, the rich man (in this paper, as in an Act of Parliament,
words denoting persons of the masculine gender shall be construed as
including persons of the feminine gender also) will bestow a little less
careful thought and attention on--shall I say partridges?--and more on
his fellow-man; and the bitter class-prejudice which undoubtedly exists
among the needy against the prosperous and well-fed will gradually die
out. Then, and then only, will a new and brighter era dawn on "poor
humanity;" and, I may say, that I hold optimist views with reference to
this consummation. I think I observe a growing acknowledgment of the
claims of humble folk in the literature of the day; and as literature is
universally regarded as an outcome of the prevalent tone of feeling, I
look upon this as a good omen.
Having worked myself into this happy frame of mind, I am emboldened to
request that consideration may be given to a few examples of the ideas
which, "in the stillness of the night," and otherwise, have intruded
themselves upon me--ideas embryonic and unformed, I doubt not, but
genuine as far as they go. From the multitude of these shadowy phantoms
which have now for a long time past oppressed me, I select those which
strike me as having special reference to the improvement of our poor
populations in four of the salient matters of life--viz., in health,
pocket, mind, and amusements; and these I will deal with _seriatim_.
Health.
This, amongst all sublunary blessings, is undoubtedly the one of
paramount importance, and, seeing how things now stand with us, it is
imperative that it should be _the_ question to receive earliest
attention.
I think it is the Rev. Harry Jones who, in one of his warm-hearted
essays, liken as rotten, worn-out, filthy habitation to a lump of putrid
carrion, exhaling poison all around, and which should be as
remorselessly cut out from amongst the dwellings of human beings as a
fly-blown spot is cut out from a carcass. This simile, perhaps, is not a
very savoury one, but it possesses a much greater merit, that of being
_absolutely true_--slightly vulgar, but astonishingly correct. I could
illustrate its verity by many pertinent instances which have come within
my own experience, but I feel that this is not the place to do so. What
then is the remedy? Obviously to re-enact the present "Artizans'
Dwellings Improvement Act" as a _compulsory_ statute, and not as an
optional one. Let the squalid, crazy, tumble-down rookeries which exist
in every town in the kingdom be ruthlessly demolished, care, of course,
being taken that suitable dwellings are cotemporaneously built on better
sanitary principles for those whom it will be necessary to evict in
order to carry out such improvements. And I would suggest, as a branch
of the pervading idea which forms the centre and core of my suggestions
(of which more anon), that the Municipal Corporations of our cities and
towns should be themselves in their official capacity the landlords of
such new and improved dwellings, and should employ their own tradesmen
to build them. And, furthermore, that in the erection of whatever new
cottages may be found necessary for the purpose indicated, the
latter-day style of running them up all alike, as uniform as so many
squares of glass in a sash, should be abandoned, and a little variety of
style, if only in trifling particulars, introduced. Human nature, even
the human nature of the uneducated poor, rebels against this painful
monotony, and grows intensely weary of over-much regularity, which, if a
virtue at all, is one of so starched and rigid a character, that it
takes a considerable amount of resolution, and a far higher degree of
culture than we can lay claim to, to enable us to fall in love with it.
To our uninstructed eyes, diversity of form is much more pleasing than
undeviating rectangularity.
Again, the most painstaking care must be taken that these substituted
domiciles be properly and thoroughly drained. Unhappily, although this
is a truism and a self-evident proposition, it is, through carelessness
or indifference, frequently neglected--a fact too sadly attested by the
ravages of fever from time to time in our outlying districts, where,
twenty years ago, the bricklayer and hodman had not arrived upon the
scene. To obviate this it is absolutely necessary that the most skilled
science should be employed, and the most searching local legislation
strictly enforced, to secure the carrying out of approved sewerage and
drainage systems.
Furthermore, I would suggest that no horse or cattle slaughterer,
tallow-melter, manure-merchant, tanner, or other person plying any of
the trades known as noisome or offensive, should be allowed to continue
such trades without a special licence, and that by the terms of such
licence they should be prohibited, under heavy penalties, from carrying
on their businesses outside the limits of a certain area to be expressly
set aside for that purpose, at such a distance from the centre of every
town as may be judged desirable by the sanitary authorities. Within this
area pig-styes and fowl-houses should be erected, and no swine, ducks,
or geese be permitted to be kept outside its boundary. An inspector
should be appointed specially for this quarter of the town, who should
direct all his energies to seeing that the best principles of
ventilation, smoke-consumption, drainage, use of disinfectants, &c. &c.,
are adopted throughout his domain; and all ill-conditioned recusants
against the decrees of the local senate should be mulcted in heavy
damages. On the part of the senate itself there must be no apathy, no
supineness, no dilettanteism, but a stern, vigorous determination
stringently and impartially to enforce prompt obedience to its edicts.
No doubt this would be somewhat of a hardship upon certain individuals,
on the score of inconvenience and increased cost of production; but I
doubt not they would take care to indemnify themselves. Even were it
otherwise, however, the aggregate gain in so important a matter as the
public health must swamp all minor considerations. Private interests
must inevitably be sacrificed in the advancement of the general weal.
All the Mrs. Partingtons that ever existed, with all their mops (whether
such mops are called monopolies, vested rights, or what not), must
perforce recede before the rising tide of the ocean of civilization.
Having well drained our streets and habitations, and consecrated a
_quartier_ for the purposes last mentioned, the next step must be to
increase the number of our iron hospitals; and, disregarding
sentimentality, immediately to isolate and put in quarantine all persons
suffering from infectious diseases. Firmly grasp this nettle the moment
it crops up, and without a shadow of doubt you will reduce to a minimum
the high rate of mortality at present existing in our overcrowded cities
through a total neglect of proper precaution. All textile fabrics,
bedding, books, &c., which have come in contact with the patient, to be
consumed by fire. Even Vandalism is excusable, nay, commendable, in
certain circumstances.
Finally, on this branch of the subject, I submit for the consideration
of municipalities the following recommendations:--
1. Preserve or procure open spaces, sufficient to form recreation
grounds for your communities--say an acre for every thousand
inhabitants. Regard this to be quite as imperative a necessity as the
acquisition of further land to add to the cemeteries in which you inter
the bodies of those who have "gone over to the majority." Let the quick
share your care and attention on equal terms with the dead in the matter
of requisite space and accommodation.
2. Cause your common lodging-houses and your still worse haunts to be
under the most vigilant supervision; and that _constantly_, and not
fitfully and spasmodically. The more severe and restrictive your
regulations are with reference to these matters the better it will be
for all decent, quiet citizens.
3. Provide every householder within your jurisdiction with a _filter_,
to insure to him and his the opportunity of enjoying water free from
organic and other impurities.
4. Furnish him also with two boxes, varying in size according to the
dimensions of his domicile: one to form a receptacle for dust, cinders,
old rags, broken bottles, and what is generically known as "dry dirt;"
and the other for decayed vegetables, the entrails of fish, and that
kind of refuse that we rather uneuphoniously call "muck." Such boxes to
be taken away once a week and empty ones left in their stead. As a
corollary to this, forbid him, under penalties, to continue his present
practice of pitching derelicts into the street, as the readiest means of
being quit of them; and make him responsible for the cleanliness of his
doorsteps and the pavement in front of his dwelling.
5. Send round carts of chloride of lime, at short intervals during warm
or "muggy" weather, and direct a bucketful to be delivered to every
housewife, to remove stenches from sinks, water-closets, &c.
6. Erect a furnace in some convenient locality, to serve the same
purpose as that known as the "Queen's tobacco-pipe" at the London Docks
does or did--_i.e._, to reduce to ashes all infected or condemned
articles.
The foregoing list of recommendations might be extended indefinitely;
but perhaps the above will be sufficient to begin with.
There are, no doubt, two objections at least which may be raised against
the adoption of any scheme founded on these hints: first, one on the
score of increased expenditure; secondly, one condemning increased
centralization. With regard to the former, my answer is that health,
especially the health of the aggregate mass of the body politic, cannot
possibly be bought too dear; and that nothing really is so costly to any
community as pestilence and death. As to the latter, I have no other
defence to urge than my firm conviction that, much as it is railed
against, centralization is as nearly an unmixed good as it is possible
for anything in this sublunary (and marvellously complex) sphere to be.
Everybody knows how inadequate the very best isolated efforts are to
exterminate any widespread evil; and even organizations which are
independent of, and do not radiate from or gravitate to, a common
centre, frequently cross each other's paths, and to some extent defeat
each other's purposes; occasioning a great waste of wholesome energy,
which, well directed, might achieve marvellous results. As cosmos is
greater than chaos--as a well-spliced rope is stronger than its separate
strands--so is centralization and cohesion greater and stronger than
individualism and segregation.
Pocket.
Many a vigorous arm has applied the axe to that dense and matted jungle,
the indigence of the lower orders; but little more has been accomplished
than the blunting of the hatchet and the exhaustion of the pioneer who
wielded it.
This being the case, it would be the height of folly for me, with my far
feebler frame and my puny weapon, to attempt to do more than to peer
cautiously around the deep shades, and try to find out, as a dweller
_within_ those murky woods, if here a little path and there a little
opening, into which a gleam of sunlight penetrates at times, be not
discoverable, half hidden, perchance, by clumps of brushwood, which it
will cost but little trouble to clear away. I shall therefore restrict
myself to indicating such of these openings as I see, or fancy I see,
from whence operations might, according to my notion, be directed
towards the demolition of portions at all events of this swart and
gloomy forest.
One of the largest of these clearings is undoubtedly, I think,
_Co-operation_, of which there are two kinds--viz., combinations between
masters and men in the shape of limited partnerships, a per-centage on
profits, &c.; and combinations amongst the wage-earners themselves for
certain specified purposes.
With regard to the first named, I am rather inclined to doubt the
probability of its ever becoming an important factor in the sum of human
progress, on account of the unlikelihood of its being generally adopted
either in the near or distant future, and I am still more sceptical as
to its efficacy as a panacea, even if it were universally reduced to
practice, especially in these days of commercial disasters.
Coming, then, to the other mode of co-operation--associations of manual
workers--this also divides itself into two branches, having two distinct
objects--namely, the receipt of higher wages for labour performed, and
the obtaining greater value in commodities in the disbursement of such
wages. Both these are, no doubt, laudable aspirations; and, although at
the first glance they may appear incompatible with, if not altogether
antagonistic to, each other,--inasmuch as increased remuneration to the
producer means an increase in the price of the thing produced,--yet it
will be seen, on mature reflection, that as a very large proportion of
operatives are employed in the manufacture of articles of luxury, of
which they are not consumers or purchasers, so much of the increase in
the price of such articles as finds its way into the pockets of the
artificer in the shape of added wages is a net gain to that portion of
the labouring classes, and will inevitably exude from such portion to
the benefit of the whole, in the same manner as what may be called in
contradistinction their normal earnings.
I should like to say one word about combinations of workmen in this
place, which may be distasteful to unqualified panegyrists of the
system: such combinations should invariably be in accordance with our
recognized code of morals, and they must be in obedience to the ordinary
laws of Nature; and it is to be feared that these desiderata to
perfection in co-operation have at times been lost sight of in the past.
I am compelled to blush for my order when I find them seizing the
opportunity of their employers being under a heavy time-contract for the
execution of important public or other works to organize a strike: this
is clearly an infraction of all the ethics of morality. Neither can I
appreciate their sense of the fitness of things when I hear them laying
it down as a sound axiom that wages should be equalized, so that the
stupid, idle, or inferior workman should be on a par with the skilled
and industrious one. This is a blunder against one of the most immutable
of Nature's laws--that of variety and infinite gradation; the suggestion
implies a yearning after the utterly unattainable, which it is
astonishing men of otherwise sound judgment should seriously entertain
for one moment. As a comrade of mine pithily observed, not long since,
when we were discussing the possibility of devising a scheme by which
all men should receive the same amount of remuneration for their labour,
and, when received, be enabled to make it go equally far--"You might as
well try to make men all o' one height."
Remove these excrescences from our combinations, and when it is found we
can be practical as well as earnest, co-operation will have acquired a
new vigour, and will be able to accomplish greater results. The main
citadel will be none the less impregnable because our forces are not
scattered abroad in various directions, in the vain endeavour to
strengthen totally indefensible frontiers.
But, after all, it is from the other branch of co-operation--the
_co-operative store system_--that the greatest advantages may be
expected to accrue. This is growing into favour yearly, still growing
(despite recent diatribes in the newspapers), and is extending its
ramifications into quite primitive districts. The knowledge that this is
an undoubted fact should afford gratification to the well-wishers of the
poor.
Yet this gratification is subject to some modification when it is seen
that this, not the least important birth of the nineteenth century,
though growing and bearing within itself the germs of almost infinite
possibilities, is at present of too tiny dimensions to grapple with that
colossal ogre--the wasteful expenditure of the impecunious. It is
Hercules indeed, but Hercules still in swaddling clothes before the
strangling of the serpent. The amount of dealings at these stores by the
class to whom they are calculated to prove the greatest boon, when
compared with dealings by this same class with _very_ retail shopkeepers
and at other places where the practice of paying "through the nose"
(pardon the vulgarity) so extensively prevails, will be found to be
almost infinitesimal. The question therefore arises, may it not be
possible to replace these pine torches by Edisonian lights, so as to
eliminate from wider tracts the thick darkness enwrapping the minds of
the sons and daughters of toil as to what constitutes their true
interests? It appears to me that there is one way of rendering this
feasible, which I deferentially submit for consideration. It may be
quite impracticable; and, if practicable, may contain such flaws as to
be futile. If so, on defects being pointed out which I am not able,
unassisted, to discover, I can only say I am open to conviction. I have
no desire to be charged with an ineradicable attachment to that peculiar
feat of horsemanship known as "riding a hobby to death." My plan is
simply this: first, let every town of say over 10,000 inhabitants
possess an internal government complete in itself, with plenary
administrative powers; let groups of villages, in such numbers as may be
determined on (the present Poor-Law Union Divisions might be taken as a
basis), form cordons round themselves in like manner, and with the like
objects; let every care be taken to select the very best men of every
social grade to form the local senate, and let the members of which it
is composed be paid for their services out of the public (local) funds,
be subject to re-election at short intervals, and be required to give
good accounts of their stewardship. Further, let it be clearly
understood that the only condition on which a man could hope to be
enrolled in this representative band, or, being enrolled, expect to be
allowed to continue his official existence, would be his distinct and
unquestioning recognition of _personal_ responsibility, as far as is
humanly possible, for, and his unwavering resolution to secure, the
well-being of _all_ his constituents, physically, pecuniarily, mentally,
and morally.
These preliminaries being supposed to be satisfactorily settled, such
incorporation or assembly of chosen ones might (always supposing my
views happened to find favour in their sight) open as many co-operative
stores--so many for each trade--as would be sufficient to supply the
needs of the entire community, selecting competent men from each trade
to manage the different departments, and paying them by an agreed salary
in the same manner as rate collectors and relieving officers are paid. A
certain specified per-centage to be added to the prime cost of the
various articles to defray the estimated expenses of management,
advertising, rent (if necessary, though it would be better if the local
legislators were also the landlords), wear and tear, depreciation in
stock, and miscellaneous expenses for the year; and sales to be made to
the consumer _for cash only_. The urban or rural chancellor of the
exchequer would, in his annual budget, soon learn to adjust the amount
of his tax (for so the per-centage may be considered), over and above
the original cost price, according to the probable exigencies of the
ensuing year, by the light afforded by the transactions of the preceding
one.
Seeing how many millions of pounds are annually disbursed for the barest
sustenance and most absolute necessaries of life by the poor of the
three kingdoms, from most of whom exorbitant rates of profit are
wrung,--for the fact need not be expatiated on here that the more
indigent the purchaser, and the more his penury drives him to live from
hand-to-mouth, the less value he receives for his money, to say nothing
of the further irruptions made into his income by the only
partially-slain "truck system," or by the payment of interest to the
accommodating successors of the Lombards, whose golden balls proclaim
them to serve the honourable office of jackal-purveyors to the lions of
the gin-palaces,--seeing this, I say, shall I be stigmatized as a
dreamer, a half-crazy Utopian, if I anticipate magnificent results to
follow from fair trial of a scheme designed to stem the frightful
torrent of improvidence at present obtaining amongst the working
classes, and to enable them to occupy the new position of being
participators in the benefits of a sound commercial undertaking?
Here, however, as elsewhere, there are tares amongst the wheat--if,
indeed, it be wheat. An awkward inquiry obtrudes itself unbidden. What
is to become of the thousands of deserving folks, too old for the most
part to begin life _de novo_, who have earned a tolerably honest
livelihood as small shopkeepers, and who would probably find themselves,
under the system just recommended, "improved off the face of the earth?"
Partially the difficulty might be met by the employment of the most
active or most experienced of them in the borough stores. A little more
might be accomplished in this direction also by giving some of them
appointments to the numerous new offices it will be found necessary to
create if our municipal authorities ever do wake up and bestir
themselves, and aspire to becoming something more suitable to the spirit
of the age than mere assemblies for palaver. But when all this is done,
there will still be the residuum, and that residuum composed almost
exclusively of the feeble, the aged, the halt, the lame, and the blind,
who will be more or less thrown upon their own resources. For these, the
only gleam of light I can discern is the fact that a remnant of their
old customers will not find out all at once the error of their ways, and
will go on in their accustomed grooves for some time after the
centralized co-operative store shall have become _un fait accompli_, and
so their decline into pauperism will be slow and gradual. Heaven only
knows how some of these small shopkeepers contrive to exist even now by
vending pennyworths and halfpennyworths of this, that, and the other; it
can only be by imposing extravagant profits on the article vended. One
cannot help thinking that their case can hardly very well be worse than
it is, in any event. But be this as it may, care for their particular
interests must not be permitted to dominate over due consideration for
those of the vast aggregate mass forming the rest of our _clientèle_,
innumerable as "leaves in Vallambrosa,"--and, like other and greater
folks, superfluous retailers must submit to be sacrificed for the
benefit of the common weal.
It is impossible to deal even in the most cursory manner with this
"pocket" question without just glancing at the important bearing which
the question of temperance must exercise upon it. To place a further
spending power in the hands of an incurably intemperate populace would
obviously mean only to increase and intensify the vice of intemperance.
While deprecating any intention of making this paper the vehicle for a
furious tirade against drunkenness, I feel bound to say in passing that,
little as I love total abstinence, I regard it as a much lesser evil
than the unrestrained indulgence of dipsomania; and if any man feels
that he is so much a slave to his degraded appetite that he cannot keep
up a nodding acquaintance with John Barleycorn without wallowing under
his influence in the mud of inebriety, I respect that man for signing
the pledge. My optimist instincts, however, buoy me up again on this
subject also, for I sincerely believe that, high authority for the
assertion though there be, mankind are _not_ mostly fools; and that when
they have begun to realize the fact that they have a choice as to the
kind of investment they may obtain for their money, the great majority
of them will be looking out for some more substantial advantage than the
questionable luxury of seeking temporary oblivion from carking cares and
the grisly spectre of hopeless indigence. It may, I think, be relied on
with certainty that an improvement in the pecuniary circumstances of the
poor would beget increased self-respect, and self-respect would proclaim
drunkenness _unfashionable_, and that now vigorous and lusty giant would
ere long find himself as decrepit and infirm as Bunyan's Giant Pope.
Those of us who have read of the bacchanalian orgies of the great no
further back than the days of the Regency of George IV., and contrast it
with the sobriety which is said to prevail amongst them in our days,
cannot be accused of being groundlessly sanguine if we augur the
percolation downwards of this stream of moderation under happier
auspices, and that, too, in no remote future.
A third means of lightening the strain upon our _ouvriers_ is to
multiply the facilities for emigration. I would even go so far as to say
that I think an _International_ Emigration and Immigration League
between all the civilized nations of the world, for the purpose of
drafting overplus populations into thinly inhabited districts, would be
rather a good thing than otherwise, the inconveniences attending
differences of language, manners, and so forth, being quite
surmountable; whereas the difficulties attendant upon the possession of
more hands to labour than there is work to perform, and consequently
more hungry stomachs than there is food to fill, is altogether
insurmountable. With regard to the affliction of _mal du pays_, from
which undoubtedly many of the expatriated would suffer at intervals,
that would be found to be a much more tolerable burden to bear, combined
with a sufficiency of victuals and clothing, than the pangs of
starvation or semi-starvation even on one's "native heather."
But as it is no part of my programme to move too fast, or too far at
once, I do not insist upon any international arrangement of the kind I
have hinted at during, say, the present decade. I do, however, earnestly
entreat all whom it may concern to try their best to place the matter of
Emigration on a proper footing. I unhesitatingly maintain that whilst
Great Britain possesses untold thousands of acres of virgin soil, and
practically unlimited untried possibilities, in her numerous colonies,
this our "sea-girt isle" ought not to suffer from a plethora of willing
workers. The existing facilities held out to our overcrowded populations
to induce them to venture upon "fresh fields and pastures new" might be
multiplied a hundred-fold.
Surely it ought to be part of the fundamental policy of a
State--especially of a State whose real governing body is elected by
household suffrage--to take the most active measures for insuring the
weal of all its citizens: the humblest as well as the highest. Does not
this, indeed, form the very quintessential attribute of good government?
Has it not been rightly said that a State represents the totality of all
the individuals composing it? I assume these are sound political axioms;
and if I am right in this assumption, may I not suggest, as the most
certain way of attaining the desired end, that our Representative
Government should formally acknowledge our claims upon them by
appointing a Minister for "the Condition of the People," with a seat in
the Cabinet? The next step would be easy, for when once the whole
surroundings were fairly brought within the range of vision, the vital
importance of Emigration as a principal means of amelioration would be
recognized; and it would be discovered that an able Secretary for
Emigration would prove an invaluable auxiliary in the effective working
of the department.
It would be necessary, I apprehend, to select for this latter office a
man eminent as well for good temper as for a capacious intellect, as the
multiplicity of the functions he would have to perform would render such
office by no means a sinecure; and the involved and complex matters he
would have to deal with might, at times, go far in the direction of
ruffling the serenest imperturbability.
The eye of fancy depicts him in the active performance of his
multifarious duties, surrounded by numerous painstaking subordinates,
some of whom bear to him huge tomes, containing a full alphabetical list
(compiled from the census returns and other sources) of the populations,
industries, and assessments of the United Kingdom, divided into areas of
certain dimensions, showing the age, sex, occupation, and earnings or
incomings of every person; the number of houses (with their rentals or
estimated yearly value), workshops, or other business establishments of
every kind, specifying how many hands are employed in each and the
amount of wages paid; and also showing the number of persons in receipt
of out-door relief, and approximate number of vagrants in each district.
Other attentive satellites open before him the various domesday books,
containing reports by competent surveyors as to the quantity, and the
latent riches or irredeemable poverty, of uncultivated lands throughout
those vast dominions of ours on which the sun never sets; with copious
notes by skilled mercantile men and geographers, pointing out the places
where commodious ports might be formed, railways constructed, or
manufactories erected. Our much-worried Secretary, whose heart is in his
work, compares notes, and directs some of his chief clerks to prepare
digests of, for instance, the information contained in pp. 420 to 446 of
the 17th volume of the first set of books, and pp. 97 to 104 of the 32nd
volume of the second set, ready for his consideration on the day but one
following. He then takes up similar digests, which have previously been
prepared in like manner, and sees clearly that one hundred artisan
families of various specified trades, full particulars of which are
before him, may, with advantage to all parties, be transplanted, passage
free, from the blind alleys of Flintchester to the new settlement of
Hornihand in Australasia, with the authorities of which place the usual
arrangement will be made to assist them on their _début_, and lend them
a helping hand until they get fairly settled down. Day after day this
kind of thing goes on throughout the year, except for some two months
during the late summer and autumn vacation, when the hard-worked
Secretary and his staff are enjoying a well-earned holiday.
The more I ruminate on this matter of Emigration the more I am convinced
that it is indispensable; it should run on wider lines, and cover a far
more extended area than is possible under anything short of Governmental
intervention. Seeing the utter inutility and inefficacy of isolated
exertions to deal with the mighty problems which our complex
civilization presents for solution, I should, on behalf of myself and my
class, hail with joy the prospect of State interference in our
interests. Sneers may continue to be directed against, and witty
sarcasms levelled at, a "Paternal Government," "infringement of that
liberty of the subject which is the inherent privilege and birthright of
every Briton," and other like cuckoo-cries. But meantime we starve; we
increase and multiply in obedience to the law of Nature, and our
opportunities of earning subsistence do _not_ increase and multiply in a
corresponding ratio. And without by any means desiring to steep my pen
in midnight blackness in order to portray possible portentous
consequences, yet it is a proposition not to be controverted that the
ever-increasing preponderance of born toilers over any quantity of
remunerative toil which can by any possibility be created within the
limits of Great Britain proper must inevitably cause such consequences
to be calamitous. For some time past the dark shadow of over-population
has been looming on the horizon of "Merrie England," at first no bigger
than a man's hand, but later advancing nearer and still more near and
assuming colossal proportions; and the time cannot be far distant when
it will obstinately refuse to be ignored any longer, even by the most
unreflective, but will assert itself in a manner little to be desired.
How, then, to avert this evil? How to postpone the advent of the fateful
day? Are not these queries of vital interest to all ranks of society? I
for one feel them to be so: hence the above gropings after gleams of
daylight in the midst of the gathering shades. I do not pretend to aver
that I have found the sunshine, that I have discovered an absolute cure
for all the ills that "flesh is heir to." Too well I know what mistakes
and blunders are interwoven in the best-devised schemes of human origin.
Nevertheless, I hold that the free expression and ventilation of
opinions, even though they may be erroneous, is often eventually
productive of good, by serving to dispel vagueness of thought and loose
generalization, and solidifying the abstract into the concrete; until
which process has been accomplished no thing soever can be dealt with
satisfactorily. Therefore, as a firm _dis_believer in the Malthusian
philosophy, as also in the recommendations for checking the increase of
population more recently scattered broadcast amongst us, and being
deeply impressed with the imperative necessity of confronting the
difficulty at once--_now_, in these days when the heavens above us
appear to be hardening into brass, and the earth beneath us to be
corrugating into iron--I have requested the Editor of this REVIEW to
afford me the opportunity of giving publicity to my views.
Closely allied to this division of my paper, if not actually of it, is
the subject of _Charity_. Here, again, what a lamentable waste of vital
force, what an invertebrate entity crying aloud to be overhauled,
remodelled, jointed, and braced! Contrast the grand sum total yearly
given in charity with the paucity of definite results attained--the
well-worn comparison of the Nasmyth hammer and the nut instantaneously
recurs to one's mind. Except when subscriptions are raised for some
specific object outside the usual round altogether, how little there is
to show for the expenditure! Why is this so? And what is the remedy?
Obviously, I opine, the cause is individualism, isolation, caprice,--and
as obviously, I ween, the only cure is combination, organization,
system. Where we have now hundreds of little benevolent societies, with
their honorary secretaries and treasurers and fussy committees, each
neutralizing the others, let us have two or three established on a broad
basis, with a central committee who, when the "sinews of war" are
collected in one focus, will be strong enough to enter on paths at
present untrodden, and wise enough to understand that almost innumerable
differentiations in the nature of gifts will be necessary to cope
successfully with the almost illimitable diversities in the nature of
requirements, and who will insist on being invested with discretionary
powers in matters of occasional aids and supplemental benevolences. Then
it will be no longer possible for the shameless pauper, flaunting his
rags and sores in the marketplace, or the whining sycophantic hypocrite,
to monopolize the coals of one society, the blankets of a second, the
soup of a third, and so on _ad infinitum_, not seldom exchanged for
means of procuring beer to give additional zest to the utterance of the
sentiment--"What fools these gentlefolks be." The most searching
inquiries would be instituted, and perchance succour afforded to those
to whom it would prove an inestimable boon, but who, from constitutional
timidity or _mauvaise honte_, now starve and drop and die in silence,
overlooked by almoners who take the first miserable-looking object who
comes to hand, the most self-asserting or the most "'umble," and
straightway pour out the contents of their cornucopias upon shams,
making a miserable travesty of the sacred name of Charity.
Mind.
It is refreshing to know that so far as this branch of the subject is
concerned, our governors, having by the force of circumstances been
compelled to realize the fact of our existence, and our claim to be
considered as veritably part and parcel of the body politic, with rights
of common citizenship, have further, within the last few years, by the
passing of the Compulsory Education Act, shown themselves possessed of
political sagacity, by thus taking steps to insure that our descendants,
when their turn comes to exercise and enjoy the civil privileges now
granted to them, shall at least have a ploughed and manured soil in
which to sow the seeds of love for law and order with some chance of due
fructification, instead of the rough, hibbly-hobbly cinder-heap of their
forefathers, which acknowledged no fertilizing influence but gross
bribery, and partially justified the political ostracism and exclusion
of its owners from all share in electoral privileges.
All hail, then, to the School Board system as a great step in the right
direction. Undeniably true as are some of the accusations brought
against it, alleging that many blunders and useless extravagances, and
much disregard for the susceptibilities of well-meaning but mistaken
opponents, have marked its progress onward in too many instances; yet as
the general idea is laudable and eminently conducive to promoting the
highest interests of the entire population, and as in the nature of
things it may be expected that greater experience will bring greater
wisdom, and the faults charged against the movement gradually become
"small by degrees and beautifully less," let us heartily wish it
God-speed.
Yet, why does the good work stop here? Why should not provision be made
for building upon the foundation thus laid? Why should totally unformed
intelligences be the only ones to profit by this guardian care, and why
should they be led a little way on the road and then left to flounder
along by themselves, and lose themselves in interminable mazes? Why, in
short, should education be confined to children, and not extended to
adults?
It is true that the University Extension Scheme, as now carried out in
many of our larger provincial towns to a very, very limited and only
faintly appreciable extent, tends to show that the wind is just
beginning to blow in this direction also. Something, however, much more
comprehensive is needed. The masses are not reached, as will be patent
to any one who will take the trouble to attend any of the courses of
lectures delivered in connection with this extension system. The
neophytes seeking initiation into this or that special branch of
learning will be found to be composed principally of what we call
"better class" people, with a sprinkling of pupil teachers and sucking
governesses.
Nor is this the fault of the masses themselves, as may perhaps be
conjectured; the mere circumstance of the prices charged for admission
in itself forming an insuperable barrier to the great majority having
any part or lot in the matter, to say nothing of the fact that the whole
apparatus is professedly set in motion for the benefit of the
middle-class public solely.
But however inadequate this minute increase in the volume of the
fertilizing waters of Literature and Science may be for the mighty task
of irrigating the parched and arid desert which stretches out in
measureless extent before us, yet I am fain to regard it as a favourable
omen--as a symptomatic indication that the "fountains of the great
deeps" of human ignorance are beginning to be broken up, and that the
tide _is_ rising which, when it has reached its full height, will
disseminate the fruits of the Tree of Knowledge far and wide over the
landscape so that the lowly equally with the high-born may pluck and eat
thereof. The monster Cerberus has received a buffet on one of its three
heads, and the Hesperidean Gardens may ere long, I am sanguine enough to
hope, be entered by any thirsty passer-by without fear of molestation.
All this, however, is dreamy, unsubstantial verbiage. That it is not
also mere chimerical nonsense, which will not bear the strain of
practical application, I will attempt to show--always supposing as a
necessary preliminary, as in all the hypothetical propositions
throughout this paper, that that portion of the community who are nursed
in the lap of fortune are imbued with sympathetic feelings towards the
less favoured sharers of their common humanity, and do not object to
take a little trouble and bear a little charge by way of displaying
their fellow-feeling.
Grant this premiss, and what follows, or something better, may easily be
rendered an accomplished fact.
The first step will be the formation of a council or committee, after
the manner before suggested, save that in this case we shall want an
infusion of men of culture who at the same time shall be good workers
and good philanthropists (a rare combination, but not an impossible one,
I venture to think, notwithstanding the seductions a life of Sybaritic
ease and delicate refinement specially offers to the scholar), in every
considerable town or group of villages throughout the length and breadth
of the land, with power over the district purse-strings, and with no
superior authority except the Minister or Secretary of State for
Education at Whitehall--for, of course, such a functionary will in those
happy times be quite as much a necessity as a Master of the
Buckhounds--who alone will have power to veto their proceedings and
issue general rules for their guidance.
If I had the ear of this all-important official, I should whisper to him
that in my view the best mode of enlightening the working classes would
be to take possession of three already-existing institutions, and
enlarge their dimensions so as to make of them real forces, distinctly
visible, instead of the hole-and-corner obscure trivialities they are
now. These three institutions are--1st, Free Libraries; 2nd, Lecture
Halls; 3rd, Class Rooms.
1. To Free Libraries I have accorded the first place, because in all
probability it is there that the beneficial results will be more
immediately apparent, and the advantages offered will, in the first
instance, be most considerably made use of. The major portion of the
huge and unwieldy mass to be operated on would fly off at a tangent from
the exactness and method necessarily incident to formal lectures, and in
a still greater degree to class-work. It must first be left to itself to
sprawl and struggle at its own free-will; the restraining chain must not
be too soon brought into view; gradually and insensibly the quickening
influence must be brought to bear; the change from density to
clear-headedness, from sluggish inertness to mental activity, will not
be effected in a moment; not all at once will the spiritual part of the
long-benighted assert its claim to an equality with the animal part;
desultory reading only will impart a love for reading; odd waifs and
strays of information picked up just anyhow will alone create the desire
for the acquisition of further knowledge, and by imperceptible degrees
the naturally well-regulated mind will reject vagueness and demand
exactness; having reached which stage it will be fit to undergo the
further regimen prescribed. A good starting-point, however, will have
been gained when our operatives generally are imbued with a genuine love
of books and obtain a somewhat varied, if superficial, knowledge anent
the salient features of English literature.
These words, "_English_ literature," are used advisedly; for while I
would have every town of over 5000 inhabitants possessed of a Free
Library (varying in size according to the population), and every village
have its book-loan society, it would be well to insist on the greatest
and best of our own writers being well represented upon the shelves of
every institution of this character before venturing on translations
either of the ancient classics or modern foreign authors, even of
European reputation. Homer, Thucydides, Æschylus, Plato, Virgil, and the
rest, as well as Dante, Cervantes, Goethe, and the innumerable host of
Continental immortals, can very well wait a bit. We want to inspire
_British_ operatives with a love of letters. In endeavouring to effect
this, shall we not give the foremost place to the productions of
_British_ genius? We have to _form_ a taste. Is it not desirable that,
to begin with at all events, this should be a _national_ taste? But is
not this the very way, it may be asked, to foster insular prejudices,
narrowness, and bigotry? I reply, not necessarily, as many of our ablest
_littérateurs_ have not hesitated to attack the various abuses, follies,
and weaknesses which crop up in these islands from time to time--some
hurling denunciations at them aglow with all the fervour of passion and
intellect; others piercing them with the sharp spear of satire; and
others yet again calmly but pitilessly holding them up to contempt in a
train of close reasoning. Many, too, in addition to lashing the vices
peculiar to their native country, have, in terms of generous eloquence,
eulogized the virtues of our neighbours. Therefore, the man who is
disposed to wrap himself up in a mantle of national self-glorification
and self-righteousness will not find that the hierarchs of our national
literature are at all times compliant enough to fasten the clasp for
him.
But I have a further answer--_i.e._, independently altogether of the
question whether the perusal of English works solely will or will not
have a tendency to nip the growing flower of cosmopolitanism in the bud,
the one essential point in training the English subject to think is to
train him to think in his own vernacular--to show him of what mighty
things his mother-tongue is capable, and to satisfy him that
"Age cannot weary, nor custom stale
Its infinite variety;"
and that if ever he, individually, wants to raise up his voice and make
himself heard on any subject that interests him or his fellows, he must
not fritter away his attention on more distant objects, but concentrate
his gaze on those which immediately surround him.
This view may appear somewhat contradictory to the one expressed when
dealing with the subject of Emigration; but really it is not so. The
leaving behind the special spot of earth where one drew one's first
breath, played as a boy, saw his first sweetheart, and grew up to
manhood, the parting from old friends and long-familiar objects, may
and does entail a severe struggle, and inflict many a bitter pang; but
it is unavoidable, and so must be submitted to. It is otherwise with
home ideas, habits, modes of thought, literature. These will serve to
mitigate the poignancy of separation from one's native land, will
intertwine themselves more closely round one's affections by reason of
that very separation, and be the means of causing miniature Englands to
arise in far-off regions, and in various degrees of latitude and
longitude. While releasing as cheerfully as may be what we _must_ let
go, let us hug more closely still that which we _can_ retain.
To return: In a well-equipped Free Library no standard British author
should be conspicuous by his absence. The poets, from Chaucer and Gower
to Tennyson and Browning; the dramatists, from Marlowe and Shakspeare to
W. S. Gilbert and Tom Taylor; the _modern_ historians, from Hume and
Gibbon to Froude and Freeman; the modern theologians, from Hooker and
Jeremy Taylor to Canon Farrar and the Dean of Westminster; the modern
essayists, from the projectors of the _Tatler_ and _Spectator_ to the
contributors to the current Reviews and Magazines; the philosophers, the
leaders in all departments of science, should be there; the best writers
of prose fiction, also, from Fielding and Goldsmith to Trollope and
George Eliot, should be well represented. The most profound and the most
volatile will alike find sufficient to occupy their attention here for
some time. The "Anglican paddock" (to misapply a now well-known term)
will afford plenty of grazing ground to cattle of moderate appetites for
a considerable period; and when it is exhausted, why, then, there are
toothsome grasses in endless profusion to be cropped over the boundary
fence.
2. With reference to Lecture Halls, these ought to be nearly as
plentiful as churches both in town and country, and can with proper
management be made to serve two ends--the carrying forward the work
begun at the Free Library, and the rousing from torpidity those whom
even that useful institution would fail to reach; for as many would only
be led to attend the lecture through the library, so there are many with
whom the contrary would hold good, as many a dormant, beer-sodden soul
would consent to be carried off for an hour or two to a lecture hall who
could never be persuaded to sit down in cold blood to the perusal of a
book, although such book might be written in the most fascinating and
brilliant style imaginable: the unused eyes would soon begin to ache,
the palsied brain soon begin to numb; whereas the speaker, if a good
one, and his heart in his subject, would contrive to rivet the man's
attention, despite of himself, by the magnetism of enthusiasm, and he
would carry away with him some sort of idea--muddled and distorted
probably, but still an _idea_--of what it was all about.
Penny Readings interspersed with music have been very much derided by
our erudite critics, I think without sufficient cause. These really
harmless, if not very high-class gatherings, blending together the
ingredients of a certain kind of instruction and of entertainment, were
doubtlessly called forth by a genuine desire to familiarize the lower
orders of the people with some of the more dramatic passages in our
literature, and to render visible to them a higher intellectual standard
than the tap-room and the music-hall had made them acquainted with. It
was a happy thought to mingle singing and playing with the readings. The
introduction of these not only served to take off a possible monotony
which might otherwise have been felt, but added attractions really
elevating in their influence, the status and general surroundings of the
auditory being taken into consideration. There is no need to pry too
curiously into the petty vanities which prompted this elocutionist or
that vocalist to make an appearance in public, nor to speculate too
closely upon the disproportion between the ludicrous extravagance of the
efforts often made by incompetent aspirants to obtain fame, and the very
modest modicum and evanescent character of that article vouchsafed in
return. All this is nothing to the purpose. The simple query is,--Have
these things, known as "Penny Readings," in ever so slight a degree,
fulfilled the object of their existence as that object is generally
understood? If an affirmative answer can be given (as I certainly
believe it can) to that question, then are they entitled to honest
praise, and not to supercilious contempt.
However, having deposited my little offering at this humble shrine as I
passed by, I am free to confess that if we never get any further than
this on the road towards the mental improvement of the million, the
march of intellect will be a very short march indeed. But it will
not--it cannot stop here. The universal law of progress forbids the
idea; and in some form or another the irresistible impetus to advance
will be felt and obeyed.
Meantime, no better means, so far as I see, appearing for the moment to
be available, I fall back upon my pet project of lectures, to be
delivered every night (Sundays excepted) from the middle of September to
the middle of May in every year, in every one of the multitudinous halls
built for the purpose, by men or women well versed in the several
subjects upon which they discourse.
Failing the possibility of procuring a sufficient number of lecturers
who could spare the time necessary to compose original matter for the
purpose, it would be by no means a bad plan, I think, to employ good and
experienced hands to condense and compress standard works on different
subjects into such a compass as to occupy two or three evenings, and
hand these digests over to practised elocutionists to be _read_. Take
history, for example. Prescott's "Conquests of Mexico and Peru,"
Motley's "Rise of the Dutch Republic," Irving's "Conquest of Granada,"
Carlyle's "French Revolution," or Hepworth Dixon's "Her Majesty's
Tower," are peculiarly well adapted to undergo this process. The
absorbing interest of the incidents described could not fail to engage
the attention of the audience; and I cannot help thinking that the
offended _manes_ of such of the above-named great ones as have departed
from amongst us would be appeased when it was represented to them that
this mutilation of their invaluable legacies to posterity had been
conducted with due reverence, and solely for the purpose of introducing
them to a far wider (and, perchance, not less appreciative) audience
than even their exalted talents could otherwise have commanded. As to
the still-living ones, perhaps before taking the liberty suggested with
their literary offspring, it might be courteous to ask their permission,
and I feel confident they would not be churlish enough to withhold it. I
may be reminded that there would still be publishers and owners of
copyright to be dealt with; but I leave suggestions as to the best means
of negotiating with these awful entities to persons of greater
experience than myself.
Obviously this lecture-hall business, like most of my other theories,
necessarily involves considerable expenditure; but if anything is to be
done, opulence must feel for indigence not only in heart but in pocket.
3. A thorough and unstinted employment of the means above indicated will
accomplish much towards the emancipation of our helots from that
thraldom of ignorance which gives to the more galling thraldom of caste
its sole _raison d'être_. But there is yet one thing needed, the
_utilization_ of knowledge acquired, and this can only be attained by
dint of laborious and unintermitting class-work. The sacred flame may be
kindled in the breast by desultory and omnivorous reading, but the light
emitted is as uncertain as that of a wandering marsh-fire--it wants
_focussing_ to be of any use to its possessor or his species. And it is
in the _class_, under the guidance of a gifted and genial teacher, that
this operation can best be performed. It is here that the finishing
touch must be applied; here the rounding-off take place; here the
heterogeneous be brought into homogeneity, and the discordant be reduced
to harmony and system.
If these things are so, the problems which present themselves to be
resolved are:--Given certain millions of untrained intellects in crying
need of class tuition scattered over certain thousands of square miles
in unequal proportions--how to provide sufficient building accommodation
to meet the exigencies of the case? and given an uncertain but
confessedly immense mass of torpidity and stagnation--how to infuse the
necessary leaven into it to quicken it and arouse its latent forces?
I answer as to the first proposition--Require the architects of the
multitudinous lecture halls aforesaid to submit plans to you, which
shall comprise sections not only of the main building but of three or
four adjuncts thereto suitable for class-rooms, after the style of the
chapels nestling under the wings of our old cathedrals, or the annexes
thrown out at convenient angles from our modern industrial exhibitions
for the display of specialities. These would add comparatively little to
the original cost of the structure, and save a great deal of time and
trouble in hunting up eligible sites, and, when found, negotiating terms
of purchase. As to the second proposition, make a _liberal_ distribution
of prizes part of your system, so liberal that not only proficiency
would be certain of obtaining a reward, but plodding and persevering
mediocrity also. Constant attendance, combined with such written answers
to questions as evinced that the pupil was making an effort, should,
however imperfectly the answers were framed, insure the possession of a
prize at the end of every session. With such materials to work upon, a
free use of stimulants to exertion must form no inconsiderable part of
the programme.
Again, no charge whatever must be made for admission to the classes.
Indeed, the entire domain of adult poor education must be as free as
United Italy--free from the Alps of the library to the Adriatic of the
class-room.
Lastly, no restriction should be made as to the age or sex of the
scholar. I am of opinion that no greater incentive to emulation can be
offered to either man or woman than the consciousness that they are
associated with co-workers or competitors of the opposite sex.
It would be travelling out of the record were I ever so faintly to
attempt to enter into details as to the mode in which class-teaching
could most advantageously be conducted, or to endeavour to shadow forth
what I conceive to be the regulations best adapted for the purpose. No
general rules would be found competent to meet ever-varying special
conditions. All this must inevitably be left to conform itself to the
peculiarities of the respective groups of the taught and the
idiosyncrasies of the individual teachers.
Amusements.
On this last, but not least, division of the subject, I need not dilate
at very great length. Much has been written with reference to it of late
with which I cordially agree.
No one can help being sensible of the melancholy fact that the tendency
of many of our so-called entertainments is debasing and degrading in the
last degree. It is difficult to imagine anything much more demoralizing
in every aspect--anything which appears to be more utterly without
redeeming features--than our music-halls. Dances, which are simply
unnatural contortions on the part of the male performers, and indelicate
exhibitions on the part of the female ones; songs, which are utterly
idiotic and meaningless, except when their meaning is indecency,
sounding the very lowest depths of imbecility, and having no literary
merit save _double entendres_ of the most vulgar description; the whole
taking place in an atmosphere redolent with the fumes of beer, gin, and
tobacco,--such is the pabulum provided for our delectation through this
particular medium. Much the same poisonous mixture is administered at
our tea-gardens and other places where we most do congregate. Is it a
marvel, then, that our young men waste their strength in drunkenness,
and our young women stray from the narrow path? Is it wonderful that
when you respectables meet us abroad on Bank Holidays, or Derby or Boat
Race days, we comport ourselves in ruffianly fashion, and greet the ears
of your dames and damsels with expressions which it is not good for them
to hear?
Ultra-exclusives! those of you who are most deeply impressed with the
desirability of keeping us in our proper places, and are offended if we
pass "between the wind and your nobility," to you most of all do I
address myself, and take the liberty of saying that on _you_ rests the
onus of providing better and more healthy recreations for us; for needs
must that at times the most fastidious of you will find yourselves in
the midst of us, and it will interest you even more deeply than others
that we should not sink into unmitigated and universal rascaldom, the
only natural goal at which the pursuit of such pleasures as those
above-named is likely to land us. Give us attractions of a less baneful
character, and wean us from these cesspools of infamy. To you it is
specially important that this matter should receive attention. Do not,
however, seek to do the work half-way; do not attempt to take away the
means of recreation we have--evil as they are--until substitutes are
furnished; it will not be convenient to you that the people should have
too much time to _brood_; it will be safer for you that we should be
_mercurial_ rather than that we should be _morose_; in one mood or the
other, however you may strive to ignore us, we shall continue to exist
in tangible form and be distinctly visible to your perceptions.
I like not threats or innuendoes, however, and say no more concerning
this matter.
Time was when holy-days were frequent, when gorgeous pageants feasted
the eyes of our forefathers--times of Maypoles and morrice-dancers, of
roasted oxen and sheep, of conduits running with wine and milk: I say
not I wish these to return. Much I fear that all was not pure, pastoral,
Arcadian simplicity amidst these poetic scenes, fascinating as they are
to the imagination. I doubt not the taint of vice was there, and the
ghastly presence of misery and sorrow, and I do not regret them--let
them go.
What, then, do I suggest? Aware of the risk I run in having it imputed
to me that my suggestions have already been too numerous, I will, with
brevity, venture yet one more.
Repetition is vexatious; notwithstanding which, unification is
imperative, and committees must again be called into requisition.
Cricket-clubs, quoit-clubs, bowling-clubs, even skittle-clubs _ad
libitum_, in summer; ballad concerts, dramatic performances, &c., in
winter, under the same auspices. Membership extended to all comers, fee
payable one shilling per annum in monthly instalments; the expulsion or
suspension for a longer or shorter term--according to the more or less
heinous nature of the offence--of any member for bad language,
intoxication, or other misbehaviour; the gradual unbending of the rich
and the cultured, and their condescending to grace the sports with their
occasional presence, thereby infusing a spirit of refinement into them;
the prohibition of betting or _over_-drinking,--these are, shortly and
imperfectly stated, the remedies I would suggest.
To conclude the whole matter. We, the industrious poor of this
realm--the hard-working classes--are in pressing need of help now, in
this present time. This, I believe, is confessed on all hands, diverse
and contradictory as the theories how such help could best be given may
be. The question at issue is not whether ameliorations are desirable or
the contrary, but in what manner to bring them about, and how to be
certain that it is bread which is bestowed, and not a stone.
I do not claim to have solved this enigma, or to have invented a
millennium. I simply assert my belief that some of my propositions may
contain germs capable of being nurtured into hopeful possibilities.
As I have selected four principal points in which improvements are
required--health, pocket, mind, and amusements--so have I striven to
indicate four principal modes which I think best calculated to attain
the desired end, and which for the most part must come from _without_
our borders--namely, sympathy, earnestness, money, and centralized
organization--all being essential; the last-named especially being so,
for it may be regarded as an irrefragable verity that every movement to
be really efficacious must be _national_, and not parochial.
I look for many objections on both sides of the temperate zone, on the
waters of which alone I elect to voyage. The frigid will aver that I
expect too much, that my notions are Utopian and chimerical to the last
degree, and the nostrums prescribed empirical and baneful; that it is
not to be supposed sensible people will take all this trouble, and rush
into such reckless expenditure in a project so visionary. To such my
only answer is,--Where the return is to be great the investment must be
great also. The torrid, on the other hand, will say I am not
sufficiently thorough; that the only means of elevating the poor is by
lugging the wealthy down to their level, abrogating dignities,
distributing riches, abolishing ownership in lands and corporeal
hereditaments. To these my reply will be,--Evil will the day be which
shall dawn on such devil's-sabbath employments as these. Levelling
_up_wards is laudable; levelling _down_wards is execrable. I would in
nowise interfere with the least of these institutions. The overthrow of
dynasties will not advantage us, nor will a general scramble conduce to
our lasting welfare. I am a sceptic as to the benefits to be derived
from revolution, although professing myself a warm admirer of
reformation, as I understand the word--_re_-formation.
Neither do I anticipate that the time will ever come, under the best
devised systems, when poverty will altogether cease out of the land.
Evil will there be, and good also, while the world stands. This,
however, should be no excuse for indifferentism in the work of lessening
the sum-total of the evil, and increasing the sum-total of the good.
And so Lazarus unmoors his fragile boat, and launches it, unmanned and
untended, on the bosom of the stream,--to meet its fate.