_CONFLICT--LICENSE-LAW--ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM._
We turn from these peaceful contemplations to scenes of a different
kind. Gentle as Mr. Balfour was, there was no lack of backbone within
his gentleness. He was capable, on occasion, of overpowering severity.
It is reported of him that he once witnessed a cowardly trick played
upon a little child. His indignation was kindled, and the weight of his
riding-whip left a sharp and long lesson on the memory of the offender.
This element of indignation, even of wrath, at that which he considered
wilful wrong, sometimes led him very far. In one instance, a journalist
had taken up a position which he deemed not only baseless but mean. For
years after, he could scarcely hear the name of the journal or the
journalist without an explosion of keen displeasure. There were some
instances in which an unfavourable judgment was too persistently adhered
to; but these cases were few and far between. Now it was a statesman
whose conduct he thought void of principle, now it was a
town-councillor. Such impressions once made seemed all but indelible.
The intensity of his nature asserted itself, whether the judgment he
formed was right or wrong. If he believed the path of honour had been
left, under the cloak of some fair semblance, his thoughts and words
were anything but mild. But he was slow to be convinced of wrongdoing in
any man.
On one occasion a manservant in his household, who had been implicitly
trusted, proved himself wholly and basely unworthy of such confidence.
Mr. Balfour summoned him to his presence and gave him his dismissal. He
made no charge, he said no word, but fixed his bright eye on the man
with stern and withering condemnation. The culprit burst into tears, and
left the room more abashed, than if ever so weighty a charge had been
formulated against him.
Another phase of the same characteristic may be mentioned here. When Mr.
Balfour had formed a fixed judgment on a matter affecting the welfare of
the people, and had come to his own conclusions about the right way of
dealing with it, he seemed to find it difficult to understand how any
one could fail to see the subject as he saw it. He would meet a friend
and pour his views and convictions into his ear, holding him fast the
while with his penetrating eye. It seemed as though he could not leave
him till he had swept away his objections, carried his judgment, and won
his sympathy. If there was fault in this commanding, almost intolerant
impetuosity, it was the fault of a noble nature, and committed in a
noble cause.
When sallying forth on some errand which must bring him into conflict
with fellow-citizens who, in his judgment, were the doers or the
defenders of wrong, we have heard him nerve himself for the distasteful
task, by quoting the words of the Apostle, “For this purpose the Son of
God was manifested, that He might destroy the works of the devil.” “We
have got that to do too,” he would say, “as well as to build up the
cause of righteousness.” And thus this man of peace prepared for war;
this man of tender heart found himself not infrequently in the thick of
heated controversy, and amid the din of stern conflict. “Well,” he would
often repeat, “we are to destroy the works of the devil.”
“Christians are too _mealy-mouthed_ now-a-days,” he sometimes said.
“Look at our Saviour; He spoke right out, and told in plain words what
He meant. See with what blighting words He condemned the subterfuges and
pretences of the Pharisees. His servants must have the courage to follow
in His steps.”
Mr. Balfour felt as the heroic General Gordon felt when he penned these
words, “There would be no one so unwelcome to come and reside in this
world as our Saviour, while the world is in the state it now is. He
would be dead against all our pursuits, and be altogether _outré_.” So
Mr. Balfour was ready to be counted _outré_, ready to stand alone if
need were, with his Master’s smile to cheer him. With that encouragement
he buckled on his armour for the fight, fearing no foe, and deterred by
no danger. He seemed ever to hear the counsel sounding in his ear, “Have
no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove
them.”
In the years 1861, 1862, 1863, a policy, in reference to the licensing
question, was in the ascendant among the Magistrates of Liverpool, the
fatal consequences of which are bitterly felt and deplored to this day.
It was the policy of free-trade in licenses. This policy wrought such
mischief that it was found necessary, in answer to the protests of an
injured and indignant people, speedily to put an end to it. But in the
meantime a large number of public-houses had been added, in a town
already groaning under an excessive supply. The grants were made in a
few months: the labours of many years have only partially succeeded in
cancelling them. No doubt the intention of the Justices was good, but
their ill-considered action brought a blight upon the city. Drunkenness
increased, crime increased, mortality increased. The free-trade policy
in licensing was not the only factor, but it was a powerful factor. The
drink-interest gained a dangerous ascendency in the affairs of the town;
and the fears of a hundred and twenty-three medical men of the borough,
who, in the crisis of the free-trade policy, had memorialised the Bench
of Magistrates, were more than justified. The brief but weighty words
they used were these:--“Your memorialists regard with alarm and regret
the increase, of late years, in the number and magnitude of
public-houses in the borough, believing, from personal observation, that
thereby disease and death are greatly increased.”
In the year 1874 matters had reached such a pitch that public
indignation could no longer be repressed. At that period the _Times_
referred to the state of the town in the following terms:--“The
condition of Liverpool, whether from a sanitary or moral point of view,
is as far as possible from satisfactory. The death-rate of the town has
for many years past exceeded the average of English mortality, and by
the last return of the Registrar-General it is absolutely the highest of
any of the eighteen large English towns of which particulars are
supplied.... We should incline to infer that the increase in crimes of
drunkenness has been very closely connected with the increase in crimes
of violence.... It would seem, upon a review of the whole evidence, that
the criminal statistics and the health statistics of Liverpool point to
the same conclusion: Liverpool is a town whose leading inhabitants are
negligent of their duties as citizens.”
This indictment was but the echo of what was being said in Liverpool
itself. It may be inferred what were the convictions, and what the
feelings, of men like Mr. Balfour under such a state of things. It was
felt that all veils and disguises must be torn aside, that daylight must
be let in upon many indefensible practices, and that the moral sentiment
of the community must be invoked to overbear the self-interest of
those--rich or poor--who were preying, like vultures, on the vitals of
the community. His spirit was stirred within him, and along with
like-minded citizens he resolved at all hazards and at any cost, “to
battle against banded wrong.”
“Thrice blest is he to whom is given
The instinct that can tell
That God is in the field, when He
Is most invisible.
Blest too is he who can divine
Where real right doth lie,
And dares to take the side that seems
Wrong to man’s blindfold eye.”
One autumn afternoon in 1874, when the present writer was riding in
company with Mr. Balfour from Mount Alyn to Hawarden, this subject was
the theme of conversation. The condition of our city was discussed; the
degraded poverty of portions of it, to which we had been able to find no
parallel on the continent of Europe, from Hammerfest to Palermo, from
Moscow to Madrid. We spoke of the crime and pauperism which have so
largely their root in strong drink. We spoke of our jails and
police-establishments, which, with the taxes they necessitate, might be
reduced by one-half, if excessive drinking were restrained. We spoke of
the children of the drunkard made orphans, or worse than orphans. We
spoke of the weird fact that every year in our Christian city there is a
sacrifice, to the god of strong drink, of infants whose number cannot be
accurately ascertained, but the source of whose suffocation is clearly
indicated by the fact that infants are “overlaid” by their mothers most
freely on Saturday and Sunday nights, after wages are paid, and that
they are less exposed to this peril on Thursday and Friday, when wages
are exhausted:--the slaughter of the innocents. We spoke of the
preparations which may be witnessed in certain charity-supported
institutions in Liverpool, to receive the wounded and the bleeding who
appear after the public-houses close, between eleven at night and one in
the morning, especially on Saturday nights, with as much certainty as if
we lived on the edge of a battlefield;--the row of bandages hung up in
readiness, the lint to stanch the wounds, the surgeon waiting to
minister to persons of either sex and every age, bruised with the fist
of the drunkard, mauled with the poker of the city savage, or hacked
with the broken bottle of the sunken sot, in the midnight brawl. We
spoke of the undeniable fact that the police, who are appointed to
restrain drunkenness, crime, and violence, are too often tampered with,
“free drinks” being copiously put at their disposal, by keepers of
public-houses, where close inspection might lead to heavy penalties.
We knew it; we had seen it all. And we knew that the depths of the moral
degradation of our brothers and sisters, fed from the same poisoned
source, had never been penetrated by human eye. Were we to take our ease
while all this was going on? Were we to speak of such horrors with bated
breath while a malign influence, which had gradually worked its way to
power among us, was exerted to stifle inquiry and to gather godless
gain from the headlong ruin of men, women, and children? As we looked on
Mr. Balfour’s countenance, determined and intense, we were reminded of
the words of the prophet: “His word was in my heart as a burning fire
shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not
stay.”
Our pace quickened and our blood quickened as we rode in the keen air
and dwelt on the keen topic. What was to be done? What step was to be
taken? Various schemes were suggested, and that evening, ere our horses
were stabled, it was resolved that, with the concurrence of parties
concerned, a Clerical Conference should be summoned in Liverpool to
consider the whole position. A general Clerical Conference had recently
been held in Manchester: that in Liverpool was to be local. Such a
Conference, consisting of ministers of religion of all denominations in
Liverpool, was speedily summoned. It proved to be a most influential
meeting. Among other resolutions, one was adopted calling upon the
Mayor, in view of the circumstances above adverted to, to summon a
public meeting of the inhabitants “to consider the causes of these
evils, and the remedies that may be applied.”
Such was the character of the dominant influence at that time, that the
Mayor refused to call a town’s meeting. As might have been anticipated,
this attempt at repression only impelled the memorialists to take
further steps in the same direction. Accordingly a careful canvass of
Liverpool was undertaken. The householders were asked whether they were
in favour of the effective control of public-houses and beer-houses by
an adequate staff of inspectors; of lessening the number of houses,
especially by withdrawal of licenses after convictions; of shortening
the hours of sale; of entire Sunday closing. These questions were
answered in the affirmative by varying but vast majorities.[G]
A great meeting was held in the Philharmonic Hall, under the presidency
of Thomas Matheson, Esq., to declare the result of the canvass, and to
take action upon it. It was felt that the juncture demanded the
appointment of a Vigilance Committee to watch over the matter; this
accordingly was done.
Mr. Balfour was made a member of the Vigilance Committee, and his whole
soul went along with the movement. Results of the greatest value flowed
from the action described; and there can be no doubt that the Mayor’s
refusal to call a town’s meeting supplied the necessary impulse to the
movement.
The need for such an effort as that rapidly sketched may be inferred
from the fact that in 1874 there were 23,303 cases of drunkenness
reported in the Chief-Constable’s annual statement, while the number of
publicans convicted for permitting drunkenness was only three. In 1875
the number of publicans convicted for permitting drunkenness rose to
fifty-seven. This is but one evidence of the necessity which existed,
for demanding from the authorities, a firmer and more faithful
administration of the laws bearing on intemperance.
While others were labouring outside, Mr. Balfour felt compelled to carry
on the battle in his place in the Town Council, of which he was at that
time a member. The Watch Committee of the Council in particular, came
in for severe criticism. A great point had been scored in the direction
of sobriety and order by the town’s canvass; and Mr. Balfour was not the
man to leave the weapon furnished, unemployed.
The following extracts may suffice to show the intensity of his
convictions and the earnestness of his pleadings. He laid before the
Watch Committee a “memorandum” bearing date the 24th June 1875. In it he
says:--“The facts must be brought to light, and an honest judgment on
these must be formed and expressed, however unpleasant the duty may be.
The mind of the people of our town has now been ascertained, and it is
declared _against_ the abounding temptations to intemperance. Our
authorities are bound to respect that expression of opinion and those
wishes, and to take the necessary steps to have these abounding
temptations diminished.
“These temptations have been multiplied in Liverpool to such an extent,
as is on all hands admitted to be unjustifiable. Round the Sailors’
Home, where my own men are paid their wages, within a radius of a
hundred and fifty yards, the Magistrates have licensed forty-six
public-houses. Now one would have thought that the Magistrates, both in
their individual and corporate capacity, would have been anxious to
encourage the establishment, near the Sailors’ Home, only of places to
promote temperance and sobriety and good conduct, and to discourage
every enticement to immorality; but, instead of this, house after house
has been licensed for the sale of spirits, in most of which prostitutes
are allowed to entice seamen to their ruin; and at these houses not only
is there drinking, but also music, and in several of them, dancing.
“As a shipowner, I feel bound to say, the Magistrates in licensing such
an undue number of public-houses round the Sailors’ Home, and the Watch
Committee in leaving these public-houses and music saloons practically
uncontrolled, have betrayed the interests of my men; and I must point
out that we, as a firm, suffer grievous prejudice from the losses
brought upon our seamen through these manifold temptations, as our men,
instead of getting to their families with their money in their pockets,
are entrapped in public-houses, where they too often spend all their
hard-won earnings, and do not have a penny left for the purchase of
their outfit for a new voyage....
“The present condition of matters is, I deeply grieve to say, fraught
with disgrace to our authorities, and beyond all other evils is causing
this most grave one, that the community feel distrust at the manner in
which the authorities have dealt, and are dealing, with the besetting
evil and crime of our town, and that the well-disposed inhabitants do
not enjoy the protection which the law provides.”
After pleading for the appointment of a staff of well-paid inspectors of
public-houses, he continues:--
“As matters now exist, the cost to the town of police and jails is
enormous, and wholly unjustifiable, seeing that by energetic steps and
effective execution of the Habitual Criminals Act, and of the Acts
relating to public-houses, crime would be prevented, and a great saving
effected in the sum now expended merely to punish crime. I cannot help
saying that it is intolerable that the crime of causing people to become
drunk, and of supplying drink to young children, should be committed
every day with impunity by persons deriving pecuniary gain from the
transaction, and that the whole weight of punishment should fall on the
drunkard, who too often is merely the victim.
“I ought not to conclude without expressing the gratification I feel
that, as the result of an impartial canvass of the householders of
Liverpool, 41,079 replies are given in favour of the effective control
of public-houses and beer-houses by an adequate staff of inspectors,
against 6633 who have expressed a contrary opinion; and it will be my
hope that the representatives of the inhabitants may carry out the
request, so generally and so earnestly made.”
At a subsequent meeting of the Town Council, when the same question was
under discussion, Mr. Balfour spoke as follows:--
“With reference to the extraordinary palliations urged by the Watch
Committee for the frightful condition of our community, I will only
remark that the Committee seem to make no account of the fact that at
the last assizes there were seven persons tried for murder, all of whose
offences arose more or less directly, from excessive drinking. I feel
that if a record of agrarian crime equal to that had occurred in
Ireland, the whole country would have been in agitation, and the
Imperial Government would at once have interfered, and placed the
districts where it occurred under something like martial law.... The
Watch Committee dwell upon the importance of moral means towards
reducing drunkenness, but those with whom I act point out, that moral
means have no chance alongside of the immoral agencies which our
authorities have planted and fostered in our town.... I am a farmer, and
know very well that before I can get a field to produce a proper crop of
good grain, it is necessary for me to dig out the thistles and the
thorns.... I do most fervently desire that the authorities of Liverpool
shall deal with the unparalleled condition of our town through
drunkenness, as the greatness of the evil demands, and that now, when we
to some degree apprehend its extent, we shall apply remedies in due
proportion to the exigencies of the case.”
The result of this controversy was the appointment of a staff of
public-house inspectors, but not on a scale at all adequate, in the
opinion of Mr. Balfour and his friends, nor under such conditions as to
give security against the obvious danger of the inspectors being
tampered with, by the men whom they are appointed to watch.
We do not purpose entering further into detail on the questions raised
above. Enough has been said to indicate the energy and fervour which Mr.
Balfour threw into the discharge of his difficult duties. How difficult
those duties were, and how much strain they threw upon his strength, may
be imagined by those who consider the love of the man for all gentleness
and goodness, and the delight he had in living in peace and harmony with
those with whom he associated. But where duty called him he would go,
and what principle demanded he would do. He translated into action the
stirring words of the poet:--
“Perish policy and cunning,
Perish all that fears the light,
Whether losing, whether winning,
Trust in God and do the right.
Some will hate thee, some will love thee,
Some will flatter, some will slight;
Cease from man and look above thee,
Trust in God and do the right.”
Many branches of the temperance reform, for which Mr. Balfour laboured,
brought him into sharp conflict with some wealthy citizens interested in
the traffic in strong drink. He made, for instance, a heavy onslaught
upon a practice which prevailed on the sale of licensed premises,
required for public improvements. A large price was paid for such
premises by the Corporation because they were licensed; and then a
demand was made for the removal to another district, of the license
attached to such premises. Men had grown rich on practices like these.
Mr. Balfour’s moral sense was outraged; he took in hand some leading and
notorious cases of the kind, and, with the dogged persistence and
dauntless courage which were in him, he fought the battle. With a
ruthless hand he tore away the disguises under which such proceedings
had been veiled, and laid the community under lasting obligation, for
the work he did. Such a task cannot be achieved without incurring the
enmity of some. But so evident was the righteousness of his purpose and
the simplicity of his heart, that he was honoured for his work by his
fellow-citizens in general, and credited with the purest motives even by
those of his colleagues in the Council who differed from him.
He would have been more than human if, amid the contendings of the Town
Council, with a heart burning with desire for the redress of the wrongs
under which thousands in his own loved town were groaning, and with a
lofty nature incapable of the faintest shadow of sympathy with meanness
or unrighteousness, though perpetrated by men of wealth and position, he
had always spoken with unruffled calmness, or preserved a temper in
perfect balance, or proposed measures at once the wisest and most
practical. We claim for him no such perfection; but this we venture to
affirm, on the authority of some who have the best means of judging,
that the unquestionable purity of his motives, and the unvarying
loftiness of his aims, did not a little to elevate the tone of the Town
Council, and in the most salutary way to affect the community at large.
His diaries reveal him often bending in prayer for help and guidance in
the difficult work to which, he believed, God had called him in the Town
Council. With a faith that did not fail, and a courage that knew no
wavering, he addressed himself to his stern task.
He was an active member, and for some years President, of “The Liverpool
Popular Control and Sunday-Closing Association,” whose chief aim was to
secure “the effective control of the liquor-traffic by the ratepayers,”
and which sought meantime such objects as the following: viz., lessening
the number of public-houses, shortening the hours of sale,
Sunday-closing, thorough inspection, building up of back entrances to
public-houses, and the like.
The eminently practical aims of this Society were exactly to his mind.
His desire was to do as much as could be safely done at once, and with
this object to unite all who were the enemies of excessive drinking.
A decided impulse was given to the cause in 1883 by the issue, under the
auspices of this Association, of the “Drink-Map of the city of
Liverpool,” in which each public-house was indicated by a red mark.[H]
So blotted and blurred with scarlet spots were certain portions of the
city, frequented by sailors or inhabited by the very poor, that the map
was humorously described as “Liverpool in scarlet fever.” Persons who
had not carefully examined the subject could scarcely believe that the
map was not a caricature, or take in the fact that they dwelt in a city
so pestilently drink-smitten. The silent appeal of the Drink-Map has not
been without its influence in the great struggle that had to be waged.
It was often employed by Mr. Balfour as an unanswerable argument.
Mr. Balfour’s vigilance, about everything bearing on Temperance Reform,
continued to the end, and was not abated when he was sinking under the
influence of a mortal malady. During his own last illness, the Recorder
of Liverpool died. On the 8th of February 1886 Mr. Balfour wrote to us
as follows:--“You will see that the Recorder has been taken away. I
think we ought at once to appeal to the Mayor and Town Council, to urge
that precautions be taken, respecting the appointment of his successor,
so that he shall not practise as a barrister in the local courts, nor be
a standing counsel for publicans. I would esteem it a favour if you
would kindly consider the whole subject.... If you would arrange for the
Committee of the Popular Control Association to meet some afternoon and
consider a memorial, I should try to be present and give such aid as I
can.” The meeting was held accordingly, and the sick man was there, as
eager as in the days of highest health, to sweep away an unquestionable
and most mischievous abuse. On the 22nd of February, as President of the
Popular Control Association, he signed a memorial to the Town Council in
which the evil is laid bare. The memorial contains these words:--“That
the same person should, on one day, plead as a barrister, in favour of
Publicans appealing from the City Bench to the County Bench, on the
Transfer and Removal of Licenses, and should on another day, as
Recorder, hear and adjudicate on appeals by Publicans (possibly his
former clients), when convicted by the City Bench of violations of the
Licensing Law--is calculated, in the judgment of this Association, to
prejudice the interests of justice, and to bring discredit on the
administration of law.” Mr. Balfour also signed an appeal to the Home
Office on the same subject. The matter is of interest as showing with
what tenacity the dying man pursued to the last, by every means in his
power, the objects for which he lived. It may be mentioned that the end
he sought has been practically attained.
It is pleasant to be able to close this recital by the statement, that
since Mr. Balfour and his friends began this conflict in Liverpool, with
drunkenness and death, many influences have conspired to bring about a
better state of things. The number of public-houses has sensibly
diminished, crimes of violence have abated, and the death-rate has
largely decreased, being, at the time we write, lower than it has ever
been since health statistics began to be tabulated.
An aged citizen who, in his boyhood, lived at the verge of “the old
churchyard,” tells us of a quaint inscription on a gravestone, which he
often pondered with awe as a child, but which has long since been
effaced. It ran thus:--
“This town’s a Corporation
Full of crooked streets;
Death is the Market-place,
Where all men meets.
If life was merchandise
That men could buy,
The rich would surely live,
The poor must die.”
If there ever was a time in Liverpool when the feelings of the rich
toward the poor were such as are suggested in these lines, that time is
passing, and must pass, away, as certainly as the old letters graven on
the tombstone. The man we speak of in this volume--and he did not stand
alone--spared neither pains nor fortune that he might elevate and bless
the poor.