The rich man’s charities--His generosity--His hospitality--His
land--The Feudal System--His responsibilities--The agricultural
problem.
We must now turn from what the rich man spends on himself and consider
what good and what harm he does by his subscriptions and donations to
philanthropic and charitable objects.
In so far as he himself is concerned these gifts do not involve any
element of personal sacrifice; the moral benefit which is by way of
falling on a giver is therefore nil. The exertion of writing a cheque
or banker’s order and the satisfaction of imposing a tax on himself
complete the transaction on his side. Occasionally the sight of his
name published at the head of a list with a large figure next it
gives him a further agreeable sensation, and he can become famous as
a household word of generous philanthropy without the very smallest
personal inconvenience. But as an instance of pure charity--that is,
loving sacrifice--the poor woman who gives a penny from her meagre
store is on an entirely different plane. The picture presents itself
to the present writer of a woman at the doorway of a wretched tenement,
with her child in her arms, giving to a passing vagrant who was
suffering from hunger and fatigue a penny from the few coins she had
in her purse. The expression of her face as she handed him the money
was the most sublime illumination of pure charity--no subscription
list in the newspapers, no public recognition, and the sacrifice,
not of luxuries, but of something that she and her baby needed. That
something went with her penny, and in return she received something
else for which there is no price, no name, and no description. From
such an experience as this the rich are for ever cut off. “Probably the
most generous people in the world,” says J. D. Rockefeller, perhaps
realising that charity is something he can never reach, “are the very
poor, who assume each other’s burdens in the crises which come so often
to the hard pressed.”
The rich man’s so-called charity therefore must be to a large extent
mechanical and conventional. He gives because others with the same
means give, and the charity touts know how a list headed by Lord A.
with a substantial sum will produce equally or perhaps even more
substantial sums from Lord B., Sir. C. D., Alderman E., and Mr. F. The
extraction of money from the rich is a business in itself, requiring
considerable skill, and the rich are fleeced far more than they
realise. In practical America they take the trouble to teach people
professionally how to write what they call “letters of appeal.” When we
hear of subscriptions to charities being stopped it may serve to remind
us that it is most inexpedient that institutions such as hospitals
should be at the mercy of the casual caprice of rich men. Nothing could
eventually be more desirable than that every one of them should cut
off their charitable contributions. It might entail a severe temporary
shock to the funds of charitable institutions, as over seven millions
a year is being spent in London alone on charities, but at the same
time many ill-managed and misdirected endeavours would disappear, and
the State would come to realise all the sooner its responsibilities
in respect to the maintenance of really necessary institutions for
the relief of suffering and the nursing of the sick, in the same way
as it is beginning to recognise its duties towards poverty, old age,
and unemployment. There are other enterprises which the State should
undertake that are often delayed in their institution owing to the plea
that the private munificence of rich men can be depended upon. It is
certainly better that the funds should be expended thus than in sheer
self-indulgence, but it is evident that the money would be far better
spent and the object on which it is spent better served if the source
were not controlled by the whims and fancies of a single individual.
In regard to the more private and personal aspects of the generosity
attributed to riches: “Surely,” a critic will say, “if the rich man
is benevolent and kindly disposed he can in a hundred thoughtful ways
help his poorer friends by presents, by attention and timely help, by
opening the doors of his houses, lending his conveyances, and showing
many other attentions which his money allows him to do, thereby
becoming justly popular and a source of great good.”
The admiration, and just admiration, for open-handed generosity and
the justifiable dislike of anything approaching miserliness in others
cause an entirely erroneous impression that large gifts of money must
unquestionably be praiseworthy and commendable. But this is not the
question at issue. These are two moral qualities, the one admirable,
the other objectionable. The generous disposition can show itself in
many other ways besides money gifts, and the real man behind the
rich man, though he may be one and the same individual, often comes
forward with simple acts of thoughtful kindness because the finer
qualities of human nature cannot be stifled even by money. But in so
far as the rich man indulges his generosity in thoughtlessly giving
away money broadcast, it amounts to a form of self-indulgence, and he
is distinctly to blame for not estimating more precisely the effect
of his actions. No doubt the harm of unwise and foolish actions is
palliated by the purity and excellence of the motive. In so far as
these people intend to show kindness they are amply justified in what
they do. But let us consider for a moment what the effect of their
benevolence is. In the first place they are made to occupy an entirely
false position as dispensers of charity. Often, too, the desire to
patronise and gain the power that patronage gives blights the spirit
of genuine and unadulterated kindness, and further, the recipients
are placed in the extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing situation
of receiving benefits, presents, and comforts which they know they
are not and probably never will be in a position to return. To force
anyone to be under a lasting obligation is not the most likely way of
generating pure gratitude. There are many who refuse outright rather
than place themselves in this position: there are some who take full
advantage of the generosity and, what is commonly called, “sponge” on
their benefactors, and if the possessors of abundance refuse either
from principle or out of indifference to give freely they are severely
blamed and generally regarded as ungenerous and stingy. The virtues
were once called to a banquet by “the Lord of All.” They talked and
laughed and each one knew the other well, but:
“Benevolence and Gratitude
Alone of all seemed strangers yet;
They stared when they were introduced,
On earth they never once had met.”[9]
In fact, the whole atmosphere created, not by an isolated gift which
has cost the donor more than actual cash, but by the habit of doles,
bounty, and patronage is unhealthy and disturbing and ultimately
undermines the foundations of natural human relations and mutual
friendship.
An excuse will be sought for in the plea that the exercise of
hospitality is a duty performed by the rich with some success. If the
hospitality of the rich is ever truly successful it is here again the
man, and not his money, that brings this about. Crowds of guests at
country houses or dinner parties who regard their host and hostess
as nothing more than innkeepers or restaurant proprietors are common
enough, and it is a well-known expedient for those who are busy
“climbing” (and their name is Legion) to use hospitality as a means
of getting hold of the “right people.” But the small gathering met
together in a common interest and mutual regard to enjoy the warming
intercourse of friendship does not require the accompaniment of a
ten-course dinner nor the surroundings of a vast establishment, and
is, happily, as easily within the reach of the poorer sections of
the community as of the rich. Money, therefore, does not facilitate
or elevate hospitality. It manifestly tends to lower its quality and
depreciate its value.
It may be argued further in connection with large establishments and
hospitality that certain noble traditions founded on an excusable
pride of family or race are to be found attached to the great historic
establishments of the nobility. There is no great harm in this
sentiment and from the archæological point of view it has a certain
attractive interest. But it is too much for the high nobility to expect
that they can continue to carry on these traditions throughout all
time, preserving the habits and customs of past ages in a world that
has changed and will continue to change. No one will quarrel with them
if they ask that their lineage and family history should be respected,
but money will not help them now, and when they consider themselves
entitled to administer autocratically their millions in order to
preserve their princely dignities, they are asking for privileges
which the modern economic State and the growth of democracy are every
year showing more and more to be inconsistent with good government and
the healthy life of the people. And often by their riches they only
succeed in reproducing a somewhat vulgar travesty of the splendour and
distinction of their ancestors in bygone ages.
The typical instance we are examining has been described as a landlord
who owns villages and keeps his cottages carefully repaired (this, we
may note in passing, is not by any means the invariable practice).
He dispenses charity to the villagers with open-handed generosity,
providing thoughtfully the sack of coals in winter, the occasional
pound of tea, the knitted waistcoats for the little boys, the scarves
and hoods for the little girls, and what could be more idyllic than to
see the children bobbing curtsies and touching their caps to the people
from the great house?
As a matter of fact, this sham feudalism is generally upheld more by
a love of power and patronage than by kindness of heart. Our landlord
is consciously proud of having people directly dependent on him whom
he can order according to his will (even at election time), whom he
can enrich or impoverish as he judges right, and can remove from his
cottages when they do not please him. If the result is spick and
span to the eye and he is greeted by smiles of apparent gratitude
he feels, and it is difficult to disillusion him, that his methods
are successful, and he is induced to believe that his actions are
justified and his presence in the community indispensable. But what
kind of impression is in reality produced on those who come under
his sway? Not gratitude, because they soon begin to regard his gifts
as a natural right, and knowing that the squire can easily afford so
much, discontent is likely to be roused that he does not give more.
Consequently a whole class of people are retained devoid of all the
self-reliance and energy which independence alone can give. Without
their being aware of it, the yoke of subjection is placed upon them
under the guise of beneficent charity, weighing them down, creating in
them false habits of cringing subservience, and indefinitely postponing
the day of their liberation.
The landlord is not the elected chief of a village community whom the
people can feel to be one of themselves, chosen by them and removable
by them. Under such circumstances service is no longer subservience,
for congregations of human beings will always seek out their leaders,
organisers, managers, or controllers. But this landlord has imposed
himself upon them, or is the descendant of one who imposed himself on
their fathers, who took, in fact, what was once rightfully theirs,
enclosed it or confiscated it. To go no further back than the Enclosure
Acts, one can note the irreparable wrongs that were then committed by
those who had the political power in their hands. Arthur Young reported
in 1801 that “by nineteen Enclosure Acts out of twenty the poor are
injured, and in some cases greatly injured.” The protests made at the
time were practically unheeded by an aristocracy too much absorbed in
making its fortune to give a thought to the ruin of the classes that
were losing their little inheritance in the common fields or the common
waste. We repeat, the landlord has imposed himself upon them; this he
can do, and will continue to do, not because he is particularly fitted
by special training for the administration of landed property, nor even
because he has a strong preference for the pursuit of agriculture, but
simply and solely because he has money. To state his one qualification
for the position he holds is quite sufficient to prove its falseness
and absurdity.
In the argument we are following the underlying principle, which
might be called the doctrine of human incapacity, or more correctly,
perhaps, of human limitations, becomes more evident with regard to the
rich man’s landed property than his other possessions and investments,
especially if we are inclined to believe that the earth’s surface and
its minerals, by their very nature, like light, air, and water, should
be part of the common inheritance of man.
Can an estate of many thousands of acres be developed and cultivated
to its fullest extent in every corner under the guidance of one
individual, who, even though he may have exceptional knowledge of
farming and may use skilled agents, is nevertheless concerned with
many other interests which he desires to serve? Are there any of the
large estates which can be pointed to as models? Are there not rather
many estates that serve as striking instances of the failure of the
system? Are there not acres upon acres of land which might be yielding
great abundance, real wealth for the nation, which are either badly
managed, neglected, left as waste, or kept for sporting purposes?
There is no need to mention the building land which is often held up
by them until the efforts of the local community have increased the
value sufficiently to yield them a substantial increment, because this
is a source of income and not an object on which they spend money. On
agriculture they do spend money, and they ask, in consequence, that
the ownership of land should be recognised as “an industry.”[10] They
ask, “above all, the right to select the persons to be associated with
the proprietor in his cultivation of the soil.”[11] The good landlord
who is something of an agriculturist and devotes time and trouble to
his property is often in despair at his want of success, which he
attributes to the burdens on land, to our fiscal system, or to the
incompetence of the agricultural labourer, and he is always declaring
his land to be a drain on his wealth rather than a source of income,
but never does it cross his mind for an instant that possibly he
himself is undertaking a task which is far beyond his powers and that
his pretensions are quite unjustifiable.
The co-operation of farmers or small holders working for the quality
of what they produce and not for filling their pockets and extending
their estates, secure in their independence, acting separately so far
as separate action is conducive to good cultivation and co-operating
when united action can produce better results, this method, as actually
practised in Denmark, for instance, must obviously be superior both
for the land and for the people. But the deplorable lack of scientific
knowledge, the unprogressive methods of our farmers, the engrained
readiness to be controlled by some social superiors, makes the rapid
extension of such a system impossible.
In the meanwhile we cannot accept our rich man’s plea that as a
landlord, even as a good landlord, his expenditure is profitable.
It is not that he makes nothing but mistakes; it is that he cannot
give sufficient time and attention to it; it is that he is by nature
incapable--an incapacity which he shares with every other mortal--of
deriving from his estate of some thousands of acres all that it could
produce. It follows that his action in keeping to himself large tracts
of this unique form of property is depriving many of a means of
employment and countless hundreds of the enjoyment of the fruits of
the land; it is driving the population from the country districts to
overcrowd the towns, add to the number of the unemployed, and swell the
volume of crime.
The land question with all its ramifications is perhaps the most
complex and vast of the many subjects that are touched by the
responsibility of riches, but it is one that more completely than
any other illustrates the argument, and is the best evidence of the
limitation of the rich man’s powers. In no field of human activity
ought it to be tolerated that an entirely unfitted and untrained man
should be put at the head of so difficult and highly technical a
business as the management of land. When this occurs in commerce the
business collapses, but in land management the owner remains doing
untold damage and often playing the ridiculous part of a territorial
magnate or a petty monarch, to his own hurt and to the hindrance of his
subjects. An American writer making a survey of life in England to-day
says, “When one hears, and one does hear it on every hand, how poor
are Englishmen, one has in this land question some explanation of the
secret.”[12]