By no one circumstance in our social condition is a foreigner more
struck than by the fact that there is not a want, an ailing, an
incapacity for which British philanthropy has not supplied its remedy of
some sort or other. A very cursory glance at the advertising columns of
the _Times_ will be all-sufficient to establish this assertion. Mental
and bodily infirmities, pecuniary difficulties, family afflictions,
natural defects, have all their separate _corps_ of comforters; and
there is no suffering condition in life that has not a benevolent
paragraph specially addressed to its consolation. To the “afflicted with
gout;” to “all with corns and bunions;” to “the friends of a nervous
invalid”--who is, by the bye, invariably a vicious madman; to “the
childless;” to “those about to marry” Such are the headings of various
little crumbs of comfort by which the active philanthropy of England
sustains its reputation, and fills its pocket. From tooth-powder to
tea-trays--from spring-mattresses to fictitious mineral waters--from
French blacking to the Widow Welch's Pills--all have their separate
votaries; and it would be difficult to conceive any real or imaginary
want unsupplied in this prolific age of contrivance.
A gentleman might descend from the moon, like our clever friend, “The
Commissioner,” and, by a little attention to these plausible paragraphs,
become as thoroughly John Bull in all his habits and observances as
though he were born within St. Paneras. “A widow lady with two daughters
would take a gentleman to board, where all the advantages and comforts
of a private family might be found, within ten minutes' walk from
Greenwich. Unexceptionable references will be given and expected on
either side.” Here, without a moment's delay, he might be domiciled in
an English family; here he might retire from all the cares and troubles
of life, enjoying the tranquil pleasures of the widow's society, with no
other risk or danger, save that of falling in love with one or both of
the fair daughters, who have “a taste for music,” and “speak French.”
It is said that few countries offer less resources to the stranger than
England; which I stoutly deny, and assert that no land has set up so
many sign-posts by which to guide the traveller--so many directions by
which to advise his course. With us there is no risk of doing anything
inappropriate, or incompatible with your station, if you will only
suffer yourself to be borne along on the current. Your tailor knows not
only the precise shade of colour which suits your complexion, but, as
if by intuition, he divines the exact cut that suits your condition in
life. Your coachmaker, in the same way, augurs from the tone of your
voice, and the _contour_ of your features, the shade of colour for your
carriage; and should you, by any misfortune, happen to be knighted,
the Herald's office deduce, from the very consonants of your name, the
_quantum_ of emblazonry they can bestow on you, and from how far back
among the burglars and highwaymen of antiquity they can venture to
trace you. Should you, however, still more unfortunately, through any
ignorance of etiquette, or any inattention to those minor forms of
breeding with which every native is conversant, offer umbrage, however
flight and unintentional, to those dread functionaries, the “new
police;” were you by chance to gaze longer into a jeweller's window
than is deemed decorous; were you to fall into any reverie which should
induce you to slacken your pace, perchance to hum a tune, and thus be
brought before the awful “Sir Peter,” charged by “G 743” with having
impeded the passengers--collected a crowd--being of suspicious
appearance, and having refused “to tell who your friends were”--the odds
are strongly against you that you perform a hornpipe upon the treadmill,
or be employed in that very elegant chemical analysis, which consists in
the extraction of magnesia from oyster-shells. Now, let any man consider
for a moment what a large, interesting, and annually-increasing portion
of our population there is, who, from certain peculiarities attending
their early condition, have never been blessed with relatives or
kindred--who, having no available father and mother, have consequently
no uncles, aunts, or cousins, nor any good friends. Here the law presses
with a fearful severity upon the suffering and the afflicted, not
upon the guilty and offending. The state has provided no possible
contingencies by which such persons are to escape. A man can no more
create a paternity than he can make a new planet. I have already said
that with wealth at his disposal, ancestry and forefathers are easily
procured. He can have them of any age, of any country, of any condition
in life--churchmen or laymen--dignitaries of the law or violators of
it;--'tis all one, they are made to order. But let him be in ever
such urgent want of a near relative; let it be a kind and affectionate
father, an attached and doting mother, that he stands in need of--he may
study _The Times and The Herald_--he may read _The Chronicle_ and _The
Globe_, in vain! No benevolent society has directed its philanthropy in
this channel; and not even a cross-grained uncle or a penurious aunt can
be had for love or money.
Now this subject presents itself in two distinct views--one as regards
its humanity, the other its expediency. As the latter, in the year of
our Lord, 1844, would seem to offer a stronger claim on our attention,
let us examine it first. Consider them how you will, these people form
the most dangerous class of our population--these are the “waifs and
strays” of mankind. Like snags and sawyers in the Mississippi, having no
voyage to perform in life, their whole aim and destiny seems to be
the shipwreck of others. With one end embedded in the mud of uncertain
parentage, with the other they keep bobbing above the waves of life; but
let them rise ever so high, they feel they cannot be extricated.
If rich, their happiness is crossed by their sense of isolation;
for them there are no plum-pudding festivals at Christmas, no family
goose-devourings at Michaelmas. They have none of those hundred little
ties and torments which weary and diversify life. They have acres, but
they have no uncles--they have gardens and graperies, but they cannot
raise a grandfather--they may have a future, but they have scarcely a
present; and they have no past.
Should they be poor, their solitary state suggests recklessness and
vice. It is the restraint of early years that begets submission to the
law later on, and he who has not learned the lesson of obedience when a
child, is not an apt scholar when he becomes a man. This, however, is
a part of the moral and humane consideration of the question, and like
most other humane considerations, involves expense. With that we have
nothing to do; our present business is with the rich; for their comfort
and convenience our hint is intended, and our object to supply, on the
shortest notice, and the most reasonable terms, such relatives of either
sex as the applicant shall stand in need of.
Let there be, therefore, established a new joint stock company to
be called the “Grand United Ancestral, Kindred, and Blood Relation
Society”--capital any number of pounds sterling. Actuaries--Messrs.
Oliver Twist and Jacob Faithful.
Only think of the benefits of such a company! Reflect upon the numbers
who leave their homes every morning without parentage, and who might
now possess any amount of relatives they desire before night. Every one
knows that a respectable livelihood is made by a set of persons whose
occupation it is to become bails at the different police offices, for
any class of offence, and to any amount. They exercise their calling
somewhat like bill-brokers, taking special pains always to secure
themselves against loss, and make a trifle of money, while displaying an
unbounded philanthropy. Here then is a class of persons most appropriate
for our purpose: fathers, uncles, first cousins, even grandfathers,
might be made out of these at a moment's notice. What affecting scenes,
too, might be got up at Bow-street, under such circumstances, of
penitent sons, and pardoning parents, of unforgiving uncles and
imploring nephews. How would the eloquence of the worshipful bench
revel, on such occasions, for its display. What admonitions would it not
pour forth, what warnings, what commiseration, and what condolings. Then
what a satisfaction to the culprit to know that all these things were
managed by a respectable company, who were “responsible in every case
for the good conduct of its servants.” No extortion permitted--no
bribery allowed; a regular rate of charges being printed, which every
individual was bound, like a cab-man, to show if required.
So much for a father, if respectable; so much more, if professional; or
in private life, increased premium. An angry parent, we 'll say two and
sixpence; sorrowful, three shillings; “deeply afflicted and bound to
weep,” five shillings.
A widowed mother, in good weeds, one and sixpence; do. do. in a cab,
half a crown; and so on.
How many are there besides who, not actually in the condition we speak
of, would be delighted to avail themselves of the benefits of this
institution. How many moving in the society of the west end, with a
father a tobacconist or a cheesemonger in the city, would gladly pay
well for a fashionable parent supposed to live upon his estate
in Yorkshire, or entertaining, as the _Morning Post_ has it, a
“distinguished party at his shooting lodge in the Highlands.” What a
luxury, when dining his friends at the Clarendon, to be able to talk of
his “Old Governor” hunting his hounds twice a week, while, at the same
moment, the real individual was engaged in the manufacture of soap and
short sixes. What happiness to recommend the game-pie, when the grouse
was sent by his Uncle, while he felt that the only individual who stood
in that capacity respecting him, had three g It balls over his door, and
was more conversant with duplicates than double barrels.
But why pursue a theme whose benefits are self-evident, and come home to
every bosom in the vast community. It is one of the wants of our
age, and we hope ere long to see the “fathers” as much respected
in Clerkenwell or College-street, as ever they were in Clongowes or
Maynooth.
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