We have become so accustomed to the idea of a soul-and-body-ruining
intemperance amongst the lower portion of the working-classes, that
only some startling details connected with it make any great
impression upon us. Yet it is verily a most awful thing to exist in
the midst of enlightened, advancing England. There are 1300 beer-shops
in the borough of Manchester, besides 200 dram-shops. Thirty-nine per
cent. of the beer-shops are annually reported by the police as
disorderly. One dram-shop receives 10,000 visits weekly. In those of
Deansgate, which are 28 in number, 550 persons, including 235 women
and 36 children, were found at one time on a Saturday night. Many of
the beer-shops are a haunt of the young of both sexes among the
factory people, 'the majority with faces unwashed and hair uncombed,
dancing in their wooden clogs to the music of an organ, violin, or
seraphine.'
A considerable number of the public-houses of Manchester have music
continually going on as an attraction. Twenty-four such houses are
open on Sunday evenings. Two of them received 5500 visitors per week
last winter. The most innocent of the favourite haunts of the people
are casinos, or music-saloons, where multitudes assemble to witness
scenic representations, feats of jugglery, tumbling, &c. Twopence is
paid for admission, and for this the value is given in refreshments,
most frequently consisting of ginger-beer. These places are
comparatively innocent, but still are far from being what is required
in that respect.[3]
It is a tremendous problem--how are we to give _innocent_ amusement to
the people? Perhaps there is none of our day more momentous. We try
the lecture, and win an audience of units out of the thousands whom we
seek to benefit. The reading-room, with penny cups of coffee, holds
out its modest charms, and does much good, but still leaves the masses
as it finds them. Something else is wanted, but it is difficult to say
what it should be. Perhaps some clever person will hit upon it by
intuition, or some ordinary one by accident, and so solve the problem.
Perhaps it will be left to the philosopher to consider the human
nature of the case, and divine what should be done. We can imagine him
saying something like this: 'Man is a creature that requires novelty,
variety, and excitement. He cannot be kept at duty continually; he
must have pleasure too. He cannot be always at work on the real; he
demands the ideal also. Even in the course of exertions which he
relishes as conducing to his material interests, he every now and then
requires a change of scene and of occupation. Something to divert the
mind from its ordinary series of ideas--something to enable us to lose
ourselves in a temporary illusion, were it only a jocular supposition
of our being something a good deal worse than we are--something, above
all, to stir the hearty laugh, which proves its being good for us by
the very help it gives to digestion--is required at frequent
intervals--all free from what tends to debase and corrupt. Such is the
theory of Amusement; and nothing which does not fulfil that theory
will be effective for its ends. Here is a perquisition somewhat more
startling than that of Xerxes, putting a prize upon a new pleasure.
Happy will be the man who can devise truly available means of
supplying this grand want in our Work-World! It is plainly for want of
some such device that the public-house thrives, and that human nature
is seen in such unlovely forms amongst the lower circles of society.'
It occurs to us, that there can be no social want which society itself
is not competent to satisfy. In the variety of the human faculties,
there are some which immediately tend to give pleasure and amusement,
and certain men possess these in a greater degree than others. The
_troubadour_, the _jongleur_, and the _joculator_, are natural
productions of all time, in a certain proportion to the bulk of their
kind. Accordingly, all through the various grades of society, we find
clever people, exhibiting a gift for music, for mirth-making, for
narration, and for dramatic effect. In the upper circles, these
voluntary and unprofessional powers form the main dependence for the
amusement of the evening. In the inferior walks of life, they are
comparatively lost for want of a fair field to work in: they only find
a vulgar and unworthy outlet in the coarse scenes of the tavern.
Suppose we address ourselves to making arrangements by which humble
society could be enabled to take advantage of the powers of amusement
which lie within itself?
We can pretend to nothing like a scheme, and perhaps so much the
better. We can imagine, however, that in certain circumstances, the
desideratum could be tolerably well supplied without much outlay or
formality. We have coffee and reading rooms already. Say that to such
an institution, we add a music and conversation room; this, as a
beginning. There, when the newspaper or book had ceased to charm, let
a group assemble, and, according as there might be power present,
enjoy itself with a tune, a song, a chorus, a recital, an elocutionary
reading, a debate on some question, or a scene from a play. Presuming
that the house is under the care of an honest, well-meaning person,
there could be little fear of impropriety of any kind as resulting
from such amusements. The amateur spirit guarantees plenty of such
volunteer effort. Let it simply be understood, as in ordinary society,
that each should do his best to promote the hilarity of the evening.
If a single room succeeded, let two be tried--one for conversation
alone, or for such games as cards and draughts (under strict
regulation, to prevent any beyond nominal stakes); while the other
served for music, and other entertainments not inferring silence. In
the long-run, there might be further additions, allowing rooms for
mutual instruction in various arts and accomplishments, sheds and
courts for out-of-doors amusements, and so on.
If such establishments were ever to reach a public character, under
what regulation should they be placed? We have no suggestion to make;
but we embrace and maintain the principle, that the more they were
understood to be under the protection of the public opinion of the
class for whose benefit they are designed, the better. The patronising
puritanism of another class would ruin everything. Let the other
classes, if called on to assist, agree to view all that went on with a
certain liberality of judgment, remembering that, although there may
be some little possibilities of abuse, the whole project is, after
all, an alternative from something infinitely worse; and in a fair
course, improvement is to be expected. It is one unfortunate
necessity of the case, that a very small abuse in a system under a
responsible administration, makes a great scandal against the
administration itself; the public not reflecting, that that
administration may be all the time tending to the repression, not the
promotion of such abuses: hence the difficulty of getting responsible
administrations in such cases at all. These, however, are difficulties
to be struggled with, not given way to.