It was Sunday evening in July--an evening aglow with warmth and
splendor; an evening when even the streets of London were glorious
with the light of the splendid west; an evening when, if you are young
(as I sincerely hope you are), only to wander hand-in-hand over the
grass and under the trees with your sweetheart should be happiness
enough. One ought to be ashamed to ask for more. Nay, a great many do
not ask for more.
They are engaged. Some time, but not just yet, they will marry. They
work separately all the week, but on the Sunday they are free to go
about together. Of all the days that make the week they dearly love
but one day--namely the day that lies between the Saturday and Monday.
Now that the voice of the Sabbatarian has sunk to a whisper or a
whine; now that we have learned to recognize the beauty, the priceless
boon, the true holiness of the Sunday, which not only rests body and
brain, but may be so used as to fill the mind with memories of lovely
scenes, of sweet and confidential talk, of love-making and of
happiness, we ought to determine that of all the things which make up
the British liberties, there is nothing for which the working man
should more fiercely fight or more jealously watch than the full
freedom of his Sunday--freedom uncontrolled to wander where he will,
to make his recreation as he chooses.
If the church doors are open wide, let the doors of the public
galleries and the museums and the libraries be opened wide as well.
Let him, if he choose, step from church to library. But if he is wise,
when the grass is long and the bramble is in blossom, and the foliage
is thick and heavy on the elms, he will, after dinner, repair to the
country, if it is only to breathe the air of the fields, and lie on
his back watching the slow westering of the sun and listening to the
note of the blackbird in the wood.
Two by two they stroll or sit about Hempstead Heath on such an
evening. If you were to listen (a pleasant thing to do, but wrong) to
the talk of these couples you would find that they are mostly silent,
except that they only occasionally exchange a word or two. Why should
they talk? They know each other's cares and prospects; they know the
burden that each has to bear--the evil temper of the boss, the
uncertainties of employment, the difficulties in the way of an
improved screw, and the family troubles--there are always family
troubles, due to some inconsiderate member or other. I declare that we
have been teaching morality and the proper conduct of life on quite a
wrong principle--namely, the selfish principle.
We say, "Be good, my child, and you will go to heaven." The
proposition is no doubt perfectly true. But it proposes a selfish
motive for action. I would rather say to that child, "Be good, my
dear, or else you will become an intolerable nuisance to other
people." Now, no child likes to consider himself an intolerable
nuisance.
These lovers, therefore, wander about the Heath, sometimes up to their
knees in bracken, sometimes sitting under the trees, not talking much,
but, as the old phrase has it, "enjoying themselves" very much indeed.
At the end of the Spaniards' Road--that high causeway whence one can
see, in clear weather, the steeple of Harrow Church on one side and
the dome of St. Paul's on the other--there is a famous clump of firs,
which have been represented by painters over and over again. Benches
have been placed under these trees, where one can sit and have a very
fine view indeed, with the Hendon Lake in the middle distance, and a
range of hills beyond, and fields and rills between.
On one of these benches were sitting this evening two--Adam and Eve,
boy and girl--newly entered into paradise. Others were sitting there
as well--an ancient gentleman whose thoughts were seventy years back,
a working man with a child of three on his knee, and beside him his
wife, carrying the baby. But these lovers paid no heed to their
neighbors. They sat at the end of the bench. The boy was holding the
girl's hand, and he was talking eagerly.
"Lily," he said, "you must come some evening to our debating society
when we begin again and hear me speak. No one speaks better. That is
acknowledged. There is to be a debate on the House of Lords in
October. I mean to come out grand. When I'm done there will be mighty
little left of the Lords." He was a handsome lad, tall and well set
up, straight featured and bright eyed. The girl looked at him proudly.
He was her own lad--this handsome chap. Not that she was bad-looking
either. Many an honest fellow has to put up with a girl not nearly so
good-looking, if you were to compare.
He was a clerk in the city. She was in the post-office. He attended at
his office daily from half-past nine to six, doing such work as was
set before him for the salary of a pound a week. She stood all day
long at the counter, serving out postal orders, selling stamps,
weighing letters, and receiving telegrams. When I add that she was
civil to everybody you will understand that she was quite a superior
clerk--one of the queen's lucky bargains. It is not delicate to talk
about a young lady's salary, therefore I shall not say for how much
she gave her services to the British Empire.
He was a clever boy, who read and thought. That is to say, he thought
that he thought--which is more than most do. As he took his facts from
the newspapers, and nothing else, and as he was profoundly ignorant
of English history, English law, the British Constitution, the duties
of a citizen, and the British Empire generally, his opinions, after he
had done thinking, were not of so much value to the country, it is
believed. But still a clever fellow, and able to spout in a frothy way
which carried his hearers along, if it never convinced or defeated an
opponent.
To this kind of clever boy there are always two or three dangers. One
is that he should be led on to think more and more of froth and less
of fact; another, that he should grow conceited over his eloquence and
neglect his business. A third temptation which peculiarly besets this
kind is that he should take to drink. Oratory is thirsty work, and
places where young men orate are often in immediate proximity to bars.
As yet, however, Charley was only twenty. He was still at the first
stage of everything--oratory, business, and love; and he was still at
the stage when everything appears possible--the total abolition of
injustice, privilege, class, capital, power, oppression, greed,
sweating, poverty, suffering--by the simple process of tinkering the
constitution.
"Oh," he cried, "we shall have the most glorious, the most splendid
time, Lily! The power of the people is only just beginning; it hasn't
begun yet. We shall see the most magnificent things...." He enumerated
them as above indicated. Well, it is very good that young men should
have such dreams and see such visions. I never heard of any girl being
thus carried out of herself. The thing belongs exclusively to male man
in youth, and it is very good for him. When he is older he will
understand that over and above the law and the constitution there is
something else more important still--namely, that every individual man
should be honest, temperate, and industrious. In brief, he will
understand the force of the admonition: "Be good, my child, or else
you will become an intolerable nuisance to everybody."
The sun sank behind Harrow-on-the-Hill. The red light of the west
flamed in the boy's bright eyes. Presently the girl rose.
"Yes, Charley," she said, less sympathetic than might have been
expected; "yes, and it will be a very fine time, if it comes. But I
don't know. People will always want to get rich, won't they? I think
this beautiful time will have to come after us. Perhaps we had better
be looking after our own nest first."
"Oh, it will come--it will come!"
"I like to hear you talk about it, Charley. But if we are ever to
marry--if I am to give up the post-office, you must make a bigger
screw. Remember what you promised. The shorthand and the French class.
Put them before your speechifying."
"All right, Lily dear, and then we will get married, and we will have
the most splendid time. Oh, there's the most splendid time for
us--ahead!"