Skip to main content

Full text of "Thrift [microform]"

See other formats 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


IIM 
IIIIIM 

m 

m 


1.8 


1.25      1.4 

1.6 

•^ 

6"     

► 

m 


(? 


/2 


%,. 


r     c»i 


.V 


VI 


'V 


O 


'//M 


/^ 


/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  SII^IET 

WEBSTER,  NY    \\\,i^ 

(716)  872-4503 


t/j 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


f> 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


n 

D 
D 
D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagee 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pelliculde 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relie  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  int^rieure 

Blani<  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajouties 
lors  dune  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  it6  filmdes 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mdthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 

□    Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

□    Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 

n    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pelliculdes 

I — T/'Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
I   ^    Pages  d6color6es,  tachetdes  ou  piqu6es 

□Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tach^es 

r~y  Showthrough/ 
1^1    Transparence 

□    Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Qualitd  indgale  de  I'impression 

□    Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 

tdition  available/ 
Edition  disponible 


□    Only  edition  available/ 
Seule 


D 


Pages  wholly  or  partiilly  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  ha>'e  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  film^es  d  nouveau  de  faqon  A 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


□    Additional  commants:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires; 


This  item  is  fiimed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film^  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


y 


12X 


16X 


20X 


26X 


30X 


] 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grdce  d  la 
gdndrositd  de: 

Bibliothdque  nationale  du  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproiluites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  ci:'  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  cor.trat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film^s  en  commen^ant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmds  en  commengant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impress'on  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED "),  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  sulvants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  largv  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  ieft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmds  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichd,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup^rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  h  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m^thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Tf^p»wnm»)- 1  ,»"ii'.p-'*;""*>'" '  1 1  'i- 1"  »iiwi«!)iwi»B^^ipw"wm^!",wuii(;»(iiii  < 


""wwswwjipw"^ 


iJMWSiu.   J      i||IJUtmfP|l^.i|l 


^^ 


iiiniUii;nif.|i.'iii        i.       f  ^ 


THRIITT- 


BY    SAMUEL    8MILES, 

AITIJOU   OF    "ClIAUACTKH,"   "  WKLI'-IIKLP,"   ETC. 


lie  thrifty,  liut  not  t'civetous :  therefore  irive 
Thy  new],  tliiiio  huiKir,  and  thy  friend  his  due. 
Never  was  iscraiier  l)rave  iiiaii. "   (iet  to  Lire, 
Tlien  Ii\o,  and  use  it :  else  it  is  not  true 

Tliat  thou  lia.sl  -gotten.     Surely  use  alouo 
Makes  money  not  a  contenii>ti"l)le  stone." 

(.Jkohok.  IIkubkkt. 

*'  To  catcli  Dame  Fortune's  ufolden  smile, 

Assiduous  wait  upon  her; 
And  K'ather  ^--i  ar  by  ev'ry  wile 

That's  justify 'd  hy  Honor: 
Not  for  to  hide  it  ii'i  a  hed;;e. 

Nor  for  a  train  attendant  ; 
Init  for  the  ylorious  ])rivilef,'e 

Of  boin^--  Indejieiident." 

KoHKliT    IJl  KN>, 


TORONTO: 

HKLF0]!1)    M  HOT  UK  US.     I'U  IJLIS  Jl  KliS. 

187G. 


mmmmmmmmmm 


A    FAB  I.E. 

A  GRAS.slloiM'KU,  half  stiU'ved  witli  cold  and  hunger,  came  to  a  well- 
stored  bee-hive  at  the  upproacli  of  winter,  and  hmuhly  begged  the  bees 
to  relieve  his  wants  with  a  few  di'ops  of  honey. 

One  of  the  bees  asked  him  how  he  had  spent  Iiis  time  all  tlie  sum- 
mer, and  why  ho  liad  not  laid  n[i  a  store  of  food  lik<'  them. 

"Truly,"  said  he,  "I  spent  my  time  very  merrily,  in  diinking,  dane- 
ing,  and  singing,  and  never  once  thought  of  winter." 

"Our  plan  is  very  dilfercnt,"  said  the  bee:     "we  work  hard  in  the 
summer  to  lay  by  a  store   of  food  against   the    season  when  wc  forcse 
\ve  shall  want  it  ;  luit  those  who  do  nothing  but  drink,  and  dance,  and 
sing  in  the  sunuiK'r  must  expect  to  starve  in  the  winter." 


I'llINTEI)    AND   SrKr.KOTYI'Kl)    IIY   TIU';   ll|,()1IK    I'lvlNI'lNO     CO.,    KINl»   HT.    EAST,   TORONTO. 


I 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHArTEK  1. 


INDUSTUY. 

Private  Economy. — Useful  Labors. — Our  Birtliii'^lit. — I'csults  of  Labor. 
— Nece.ssity  for  Labor. — Imlustry  and  Litellcct. — Thrift  and  Civiliz- 
ation.—Thrifty  Industiy.    -Thrifty  ?]cononiy Pa^c  l.'i 

CHAPTEK  II. 

H.\i3TT.s  OF  Tiiuirr. 

Workmen  and  Capital. — Habits  of  Economy. — Self-indul^^cnce  — lif.sults 
of  Thriftlcssness. — Uses  of  Saved  Money. -Extravagant  liivinj.;.  -  Har- 
;,Min-buyiii(j. — 'I'htift  and  Untlirift.  — Johnson  on  Kconomy. — Si'lf-rc- 
s]ie('t.-—Self-lielp, —Uncertainty  of  Life. — Laws  of  Mortality.-  Will 
N()l)ody  IIolj)  Us! — Prosperous  Times  the  Least  Prosi)erous. — Na'. ion.il 
Piosperity.  —  Moral  Indcpeiidenee '22 

CHAPTKI!   HI. 

IMrilOVIDEXCK. 

Misery  and  Wcidtli. — The  Uncivili/ed. — TIk  East  End. — Edward  Denison. 
— Thrift  in  liuernsey.  -Improvidence  and  Miseiy. — Social  Hei^radiiiion. 
— Eatidism  of  Improvidence.-  -  Self-taxatioTi.  Slowness  of  Pro<^re.ss.  —  A 
(■"ratifying  Contrast   39 

CHAPTKI!   IV. 

MKANS   OK    SAVIN(i. 

Earnings  of  Operatives. —Colliers  iind  Iron -workers. — Earning.s  of  Colliers. 
-The  llevelers.  —  Loid  Kleho  and  lie'  Colliers.  High  Wages  and 
Heavy  Losses.-— High  Wages  and  Drink.  Sensual  Indulgence.  In- 
dill'erence  to  Well-b.'ing, Hugh  Miller's  lv\perieiu;e.— Mr.  lloebnck's 
Advice.-  Survival  of  Shivery.  Kxtinetioii  of  Slavery. —  Power  I'liex- 
er-'ised.  — Earnings  and  CliitiMcter.-  Ignoianee  is  JNiwer.— [{esul's  of 
Ignorance, —  IjK'rease  of  Knowledge.-  Kduention  not  luiough.— Words 
of  Sir  Arthur  Helps.  —  Divine  I'ses  of  Knowledge.  — Public-school  Educn- 
lion. — Words  of  William  Eelkin.-  -Stdf-depcndciice 45) 


It 

1 


10 


Contents. 


CHAPTER  V. 

EXAMPLES   OF   THKIFT, 

Spirit  of  Order. — Exampli^s  of  Economy. — David  Humo. — Rev.  Robert 
Walker. --Self-appliration. — Distinguisliod  Miners. — George  Stepliensou. 
■ — James  Watt.  —Working  for  Independence. — Working  for  Higher 
Things.— Work  and  Culture. — Richardson  and  Gregory. — Results  of 
Ajiplication.  — Distinguished  Artists. — Canova  and  Lough, — Lough's 
Success. — Words  of  Jjord  Derby. — James  Nasmyth.  —  Bridgewater 
Foundry. — Advice  to  Young  Men Page  <i9 

CHAPTER  VI. 

METHODS   OF   ECONOMY. 

Kecjting  Regular  Accounts. ^ — Generosity  and  Forethought. — Prudent  Econ- 
wwy. — A  Dignity  in  Saving. — Self-improvement. — Causes  of  Failure.— 
The  Price  of  Success. — Power  of  Combining. — Principle  of  Association. 
— Savings  of  Cajntal. — Loss  by  Strikes. — Money  Thrown  Away. — lu- 
du.strial  Societies. —  Co-operative  Companies. — Equitable  Pioneers.— 
News  and  Reading  Rooms. — Darwen  Co-operatives. — Spread  of  Co-oper- 
ation.— Thrift  Conservative. — Uses  of  Investments.— Building  Soci'^- 
ties DO 


CHAPTER 


VII. 


ECONOMY    IN    JJFE-ASSX'RANCK. 

Co-o])eration  in  Assurance.  —  lm])rovidenee  Cruel. — Compensation  of 
Assurance.— Peiiefit  Societies. — French  and  Belgian  Thrift. — Work- 
men's Societies. — Manchester  Unity.  Duty  and  Dinners.. — Low  Rates 
of  Contribution.  -Failure  of  Friendly  Societies. — Improvement  by  ex- 
perience. — Defects  will  disappear 109 

CHAPTER  VI II. 

SAVINCS-liANKS. 

Direct  Saving. — Uses  of  Saved  Money.  —  Beginnintfs  of  Savings-banks. — 
Dr.  Duncan  of  Ruthwell. — I'lstablisluuent  of  Savings-banks.— Chisses  of 
De]»ositors.  ■ — Magic  oi  Jn'ill. — Military  Savings-banks.  —  Savings  of 
Sidiliers. — Soldiers  Abroad. — Deposits  in  Savings-banks. — Savings  at 
Bilston. — Savings  of  Working-men. — Penny  Banks. — Charles  W.  Sikes. 
Mechanics'  Institute  Banks.  -The  Poor  Man's  Purse. — Depositors  in 
Penny  Banks.  -  Inlluence  of  Penny  Banks. — Bradford  Savings-bank. — 
Inlluence  of  Women. — P'arly  Lessons  in  Thrift. — Belgian  Schools. — 
Facilities  for  Saving. — Extension  of  Savings-banks. — Money-order 
Ollices.— Post-olhco  Savings-Banks. — Thi'it'tle.ssness  of  the  Masses. — 
Formation  of  Penny  Savings-Banks. —Mechanics'  Savings-banks. — 
iSuving.s  of  Artisans. -^Savings  in  Preston 119 


^^ontents. 


11 


CHAPTER  IX. 


LITTLE   THlNtJS. 

Luck  and  Labor.— Neglect  of  Little  Things.— "  It  will  Do!"- Spen.ling 
of  Pennies.— The  Tlirifty  Woman.— A  Helpful  Wife.— A  Man's  Daily 
liife. — The  Two  Woiknien. — Rights  ami  Habits.  — influence  of  the 
Wife. — A  Penny  a  Day.  — The  Power  of  a  Penny. — Roads  and  Railways, 
— Joseph  Baxendale.  — Business  Maxims Page  149 


M 


CHAPTER  X. 


MASTEKS   AND    MKN. 


AVant  of  Sympathy. — Masters  and  Servants. --Christian  Sympathy. — 
Competition. — What  Capital  Represents. — Workmen  aiid  Employers. — 
The  Ashworths. — New  Eagley  ^lills. — Improved  Work-people. — Public 
Spirit  of  JNlanufacturers. — Air.  Lister,  of  Bradford. — Mr.  Forster's 
Speech.— Great  Men  Wise  Savers. — Sir  Titus  Salt. — Saltaire. — Its 
Institutions.— Music  and  Sobriety. — Otlier  (ienerous  Employers. — Mr. 
Akroyd,  Halifax.— Yorkshire  Penny-bank. — Origin  of  the  Rank. — How 
to  Help  the  Poor. — Saving  Helps  Sobriety. — Drunkenness  Put  Down. 
--'•Childish  Work"... liJtJ 


m 


v  u 


CHAPTER  XI. 

LIVINO   BEYOND    THE   MEANS. 

Hypocrisy  and  Debt. — Conventionalism. — Keeping  up  Appearancts. — 
Exclusive  Cindcs. — Women  and  Kxclusiveuess. — Women  and  Extrava- 
gance.—  Running  into  Debt. — The  Temptation  of  Shop-keepers.— 
reniptations  to  Crime. — How  Crime  is  Committed. — Love  of  Dress. — 
"Gentlemen." — Reckless  Expenditure.  —  Knowledge  of  Arithmetic. — 
Marriage. — Happy  Tempers. — Resi>onsibilitie3  of  Marriage.  — Marriage 
not  a  Lottery. — The  Man  who  couldn't  Say  "No." — Tlie  Courage  to 
Say  "No." — "Kespectable"  Kunerals.— Funeral  Extravagance. — John 
Wesley's  Will.— Funeral  Reform 187 


!•  % 

9|1  It     ll   1 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

GREAT    DEUTOliS. 

Greatness  and  Debt. — Seedy  Side  of  Debt. — Running  up  Rills. — Loan 
Clubs. — Genius  and  Debt. — Fox  and  Sheridan. — Slieridan's  Debts.— 
Lainartine. — Debts  of  Men  of  Science.  —  Debts  of  Artists. — Italian 
Artists. — Haydon.— 'I'lie  Old  Poets. — Savage  and  Johnson. — Sterne. — 
Steele.— Goldsmith's  Debts. — Byron.— Byron's  Debts. — Tlie  liurden  of 
Debt. — Sydney  Smith. -De  Foe  and  Southey.— Sir  Walter  Scott. — 
Scott's  Debts  and  Labors. — Great  Poor  Men. — Johnson's  Advice. — ■ 
Genius  and  Debts. — Literary  Men 20& 


ltd 


f  r 


12 


Contents. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


KICHES   AND    CHAUITY, 


r\ 


>■ 


Donne. — Ilich    Peo]i]p. — Love   of    Gold. — 
1   -■  -  -  -  — 


Helping  tlie   Helpk'S.s, — Dr. 

Eiigerni'ss  to  be  IJich.^ — Eiolics  an  I  Poverty. — lliclie.s  in  Old  Age 
Hiches  no  Claim  to  Distinction.  Democrats  and  Riches. — Saladin  the 
Great. — Don  Jose  de  Sahananca. — Compensations  of  Poverty.— Risks  of 
Richness. — Honest  Poveity.- Poverty  and  Happiness.— Charity.— 
Evils  of  Money-Giving. — Philanthropy  and  Cliarity. — How  to  Help  the 
Poor — Rici  People's  Wills.— Stephen  (iirard. — (iirard  and  Helm. — The 
Girard  College. — Thomas  Guy.  —  Educational  Charities. — Benefactors  of 
the  Poor. — The  Navvy's  Home Page  231 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

HEALTHY     II  O  M  E  S  . 

Healthy  Existence.— Necessity  for  Pure  Air. — The  Fever  Tax. — The  Ar- 
cadians.— The  Rural  Poor.  — Healthy  Homes. — Influence  of  the  Home. 
— Intelligence  of  Women.  —  Unlienltliy  Homes. — Health  and  Drunken- 
ness.— Wholesome  Dwellings. — Edwin  Chadwick. — Ey])ectancy  of  Life. 
— The  Poor-laws. — The  Sanitary  Idea. — Fever  in  Whitechapel. — The 
Sanitary  Inquiry. — Sanitarj'^  Commission.  — Sanitary  Science.- — Results 
of  Uncleannesp.  —  "Irish  Fever." — That  Terrilile  Nobody  ! — Somebody- 
is  to  Blame. — Wholesome  Homes  Necessary,— Home  Reform. — Domes- 
tic Improvement. — Dirt  and  Immorality. — "Dangerous  Classes." — 
Worshi])  in  Washing. — Common  things  at  Home. — Knowledge  of  Pliy- 
siology. — Domestic  Economy. — English  Cookery. — Worthlessness  of 
Ill-managing  Wives, — Foreign  Inns. — Morals  and  Cookery. — Work  for 
Ladies. — Joseph  Corbet's  Story. — Instruction  of  Women  255 

CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    AItT   OF    LIVIN'C;, 

Art  of  Living  Fxcmplilied. — Taste  an  Economist. — Contrasts  in  Cottage 
Life. — Ditlerence  in  Workmen.—  Living  at  Home. — Home  and  Cora- 
fort — Comfortable  People. — Beneficence  of  lIou.se  Thrift. — Organization 
and  Method. — Industry  and  Punctuality.  —Management  of  Temper. — 
Good  Manners.-  Habitual  Politeness. — French  Manners. — Happiness 
in  (iood  Manners. — Amusement. — Recreation. — Iniluence  of  Music. — 
Household  Elegance. — Elegance  of  Flowers. — Common  Enjoyments. — 
The  Beauty  of  Art. — Portraits  of  Great  Men. — Art  at  Home. — Final 
287 


Art  of  Living. 


THRIFT. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Com- 

ization 

>er. — 

)iness 

isic. — 

'UtS. — 

Filial 

287 


INDUSTRY. 

"  Not  what  I  have,  but  what  I  do,  is  my  kingdom."— Carlyle. 

' '  rroductive  industry  id  the  only  capital  which  enriches  a  people, 
and  spreads  national  prosperity  and  well-being.  In  all  labor  there  is 
profit,  says  Solomon.  What  is  the  science  of  Political  Economy  but 
a  dull  sermon  on  this  text  ?" — Samuki,  Latncj. 

"  God  provides  the  good  things  of  the  wo'-ld  to  serve  the  needs  of 
nature,  by  the  labors  of  the  plowman,  the  skill  and  pains  of  the  artisan, 

and  the  dangers  and  traffic  of  the  merchant The  idle  person  is 

like  one  that  is  dead,  unconcerned  in  the  changes  and  necessities  of 
the  world  ;  and  he  only  lives  to  spend  his  time,  and  cat  the  fruits  of 
the  earth  ;  like  a  vermin  or  a  wolf,  when  their  time  comes  they  die 
and  i)erish,  and  in  the  meantime  do  no  good," — Ji;hp:my  Tavlou. 

"  For  the  structure  that  we  raise 
Time  is  with  materials  filled  ; 
Our  to-days  and  yesterdays 
Are  the  blocks  with  which  we  build." — Longfellow. 

rPHRIFT  began  with  civilization.  It  began  wlien  men 
-*-  found  it  necessary  to  provide  for  to-morrow  as  well  as 
for  to-day.     It  began  long  befoi'e  money  wifs  invented. 

Thrift  means  private  economy.  It  includes  domestic 
economy,  as  well  as  the  order  and  management  of  a  family. 

While  it  is  the  object  of  Private  Economy  to  create  and 
promote  the  well-being  of  individuals,  it  is  the  object  of 
Political  Economy  to  create  and  increase  the  wealth  of 
nations. 


f  ii 


I 


m 
m 


■  w 


u 


PHvate  Economy. 


[chap.  I. 


Privato  and  public  wealth  have  the  same  origin.  Wealth 
is  obtained  by  labor ;  it  is  pi'eserved  by  savings  and  accumu- 
lations ;  and  it  is  increased  by  diligence  and  perseverance. 

It  is  the  savings  of  individuals  which  compose  the  wealth 
— in  <.«ther  words,  the  well-being — of  every  nation.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  the  wastefulness  of  individuals  which  occa- 
sions the  impoverishment  of  states.  So  that  every  thrifty 
person  may  be  regarded  as  a  public  benefactor,  and  every 
thriftless  person  as  a  public  enemy. 

There  is  no  dispute  as  to  the  necessity  for  Private  Economy. 
Everybody  admits  it,  and  recommends  it.  But  with  respect 
to  Political  Economy  there  are  numerous  discussions — for 
instance,  as  to  the  distribution  of  capital,  the  accumulation  of 
property,  the  incidence  of  taxation,  the  poor-laws,  and  other 
subjects — into  which  we  do  not  propose  to  enter.  The  sub- 
ject of  Private  Economy,  of  Thrift,  is  quite  sufficient  by  itself 
to  occupy  the  pages  of  this  book. 

Economy  is  not  a  natural  instinct,  but  the  growth  of  ex- 
perience, example,  and  forethought.  It  is  also  the  result  of 
education  and  intelligence.  It  is  only  when  men  become 
wise  and  thoughtful  that  they  become  frugal.  Hence  the  best 
means  of  making  men  and  women  provident  is  to  make  them 
wise. 

Prodigality  is  much  more  natural  to  man  than  thrift.  The 
savage  is  the  greatest  of  spendthrifts,  for  he  has  no  fore- 
thought, no  to-morrow.  The  prehistoric  man  saved  nothing. 
He  lived  in  caves,  or  in  hollows  of  the  ground,  covered  with 
branches.  He  subsisted  on  shell-lish  which  he  picked  up  on 
the  sea-shore,  or  upon  hips  and  haws  w'  '-h  he  gathered  in 
the  woods.  He  killed  animals  with  stones.  He  lay  in  wait 
foi-  them,  or  ran  them  down  on  foot.  Then  he  learned  to  use 
stones  as  tools;  making  stone  arrow-heads  and  spear-points, 
thereby  utilizing  his  labor,  and  killing  birds  and  animals  more 
(piickly. 

The  original  savage  knew  nothing  of  agric\ilture.  It  was 
only  in  comparatively  recent  times  that  men  gathered  seeds 
for  food,  and  saved  a  portion  of  them  for  next  year's  crop. 
When  minerals  were  discovered,  and  fire  was  applied  to  them, 


CHAP.    1.] 


Useful  Labors. 


15 


and  tlio  minerals  became  smelted  into  metal,  man  made  an 
immense  stride.  He  could  then  fabricate  hard  tools,  chisel 
stone,  build  houses,  and  proceed  by  unwearying  industry  to 
devise  the  manifold  means  and  agencies  of  civilization. 

The  dweller  by  the  ocean  burned  a  hollow  in  a  felled  tree, 
launched  it,  went  to  sea  in  it,  and  fished  for  food.  The 
hollowed  tree  became  a  boat,  held  together  with  ii'on  nails. 
The  boat  became  a  galley,  a  snij),  a  paddle-boat,  a  screw 
steamer,  and  the  world  was  lened  up  for  colonization  and 
civilization. 


Man  would  have  continued  a  savage,  but 


for  the  results  of 
The  soil  V  -xs  re- 
for  human    uses. 


the  useful  labors  of  those  who  preceded  him. 

claimed  by  them,  and  made  to  grow  food 

They  invented  tools  and  fabrics,  and  we  reap  the  use+'ui  results. 

They  discovered  art  and  science,  and  we  succeed  i     the  useful 

effects  of  their  labors. 

All  nature  tt.olajs  that  no  good  thirg  which  has  orce  been 
done  pass*»f»  utterly  away.  The  living  aro  ever  ruminaed  of 
the  burieu  millions  who  have  worked  and  won  before  tliom. 
The  handicraft  and  skill  displayed  in  the  buildings  and 
sculptures  of  the  long-lost  cities  of  Nineveh,  Babylon,  and 
Troy,  have  descended  to  the  present  time.  In  nature's 
economy  no  human  labor  is  altogether  lost.  Some  remnant  of 
useful  effect  continues  to  reward  the  race,  if  not  the  individual. 

The  mere  material  wealth  becpieathed  to  us  by  our  fore- 
fathers forms  Vjut  an  insignificant  item  in  the  sum  of  our  in- 
heritance. (Jur  birthright  is  made  up  of  something  far  more 
imperishable.  It  consists  of  the  sum  of  the  useful  effects  of 
human  skill  and  labor.  These  effects  wore  not  transmitted  by 
learning,  but  by  teaching  and  example.  One  generation 
taught  another,  and  thus  art  and  handicraft,  the  knowledge  of 
mechanical  appliances  and  materials,  continues  to  be  i)reserved. 
The  labors  and  efforts  of  former  generations  were  thus  trans- 
mitted by  father  to  son  ;  and  they  continue  to  form  the  natural 
heritage  of  the  hiunan  race — one  of  the  most  important  instru- 
ments of  civilization. 

Our  birthright,  therefore,  consists  in  the  useful  effects  of 
the  labors  of  our  forefather's  ;  but  we  can   not  enjoy   them 


n 


T  \ 


m 


I 


i  ft 


I 


16 


Our  Bwthright. 


[chap.  I. 


unless  we  ourselves  take  part  in  the  work.  All  must  labor, 
either  with  hand  or  head.  Without  work,  life  is  worthless  ; 
it  becomes  a  mere  state  of  moral  coma.  We  do  not  mean 
merely  physical  work.     Tliere  is  a  great  deal  of  higher  work 

the  work  of  action  and  endurance,  of  trial  and  patience,  of 

enterprise  and  philanthropy,  of  spreading  truth  and  civiliza- 
tion, of  diminishing  sutFering  and  relieving  the  poor,  of  help- 
ing the  weak,  and  enabling  them  to  help  themselves. 

"A  noble  heart,"  says  Barrow,  "  will  disdain  to  subsist, 
like  a  di'one,  upon  others'  labors  ;  like  a  vermin,  to  filch  its 
food  out  of  the  public  granary  ;  or,  like  a  sJiark,  to  prey  upon 
the  lesser  fry  ;  but  it  will  rather  outdo  his  private  obligations 
to  other  men's  care  and  toil,  by  considerable  service  and 
beneficence  to  the  public  ;  for  there  is  no  calling  of  any  sort, 
from  the  sceptre  to  the  spade,  the  management  whereof,  with 
any  good  success,  any  credit,  any  satisfaction,  doth  not  demand 
much  work  of  the  head,  or  of  the  hands,  or  of  both." 

Labor  is  not  only  a  necessity,  but  it  is  also  a  pleasure. 
What  would  otherwise  be  a  curse,  by  the  constitution  of  our 
physical  system  becomes  a  blessing  Our  life  is  a  conflict 
with  nature  in  some  respects,  but  it  is  also  a  co-operation  with 
nature  in  others.  The  sun,  the  air,  and  the  earth  are  con- 
stantly abstracting  from  us  our  vital  forces.  Hence  we  eat 
and  drink  for  nourishment,  and  clothe  ourselves  for  warmth. 

Nature  works  with  us.  She  provides  the  earth  which  we 
furrow ;  she  grows  and  ripens  the  seeds  that  we  sow  and 
gather.  She  furnishes,  with  tl)(^  help  of  human  laV)or,  the 
wool  that  we  spin  and  the  food  that  we  eat.  And  it  ought 
never  to  be  forgotten  that,  however  rich  or  poor  we  may  be, 
all  that  we  eat,  all  that  we  are  clothed  with,  all  that  shelters 
us,  from  the  ])alace  to  the  cottage,  is  the  result  of  labor. 

Men  co-o})erate  with  each  other  for  the  mutual  sustenance 
of  all.  The  husbaiulman  tills  the  grouiul  and  provides  food  ; 
the  manufacturer  weaves  tissues,  which  the  tailor  and  the 
.  seamstress  nuike  into  clothes ;  the  mason  and  the  bricklayer 
build  the  houses  in  which  wo  (Mijoy  household  life.  Numbers 
of  workmen  thus  contribute  jmd  lielp  to  create  the  general 
result. 


p.  I. 


CHAP.  I.] 


Results  of  Labor. 


17 


,bor, 

ess  ; 

nean 

vork 

;e,  of 

iliza- 

help- 

bsist, 
jh  its 
upon 
itions 
3  and 
J  sort, 
',  with 
301  and 


jasure. 

of  our 

jonflict 

n  with 
•e  cou- 
e  eat 

[mth, 
lich  we 
iw   and 

|or,  the 
ought 
|\fty  be, 
ihelters 

benance 
IB  food  ; 
Ind  the 
Icklayer 
[umbers 
general 


Labor  and  -skill  applied  to  the  vulgarest  things  invest  them 
at  once  with  precious  value.  Labor  is  indeed  the  life  of  hu- 
manity ;  take  it  away,  banish  it,  and  the  race  of  Adam  were 
at  once  stricken  with  death.  "  He  that  will  not  work,"  said 
St.  Paul,  "  neither  shall  he  eat ; "  and  the  apostle  glorified 
himself  in  that  he  had  labored  with  his  own  hands,  and  had 
not  been  chargeable  to  any  man. 

There  is  a  well-known  story  of  an  old  farmer  calling  his 
three  idle  sons  aroiDul  him  when  on  his  death-bed,  to  impart 
to  them  an  important  secret.  "  My  sons,"  said  he,  "  a  great 
treasure  lies  hid  in  the  estate  which  I  am  about  to  leave  to 
you."  The  old  man  gasped.  "  Where  is  it  hid?"  exclaimed 
the  sons  in  a  breath.  "  I  am  about  to  tell  you,"  said  the  old 
man  ;  "  you  will  have  to  dig  for  it — "  But  his  breath  failed 
him  before  he  could  impart  the  weighty  secret,  and  he  died. 
Forthwith  the  sons  set  to  work  with  spade  and  mattock  upon 
the  long-neglected  fields,  and  they  turned  up  every  sod  and 
clod  upon  the  estate.  They  discovered  no  treasure,  but  they 
learned  to  work ;  and  when  the  fields  were  sown,  and  the 
harvest  came,  lo  !  the  yield  was  prodigious,  in  consequence  of 
the  thorough  tillage  which  they  had  undergone.  Then  it  was 
that  they  discovered  the  treasure  concealed  in  the  estate,  of 
which  their  wise  old  father  had  advised  them. 

Labor  is  at  once  a  burden,  a  chastisement,  an  honor,  and 
a  pleasure.  It  may  be  identified  with  poverty,  but  there  is 
also  glory  in  it.  It  bears  witness,  at  the  same  time,  to  our 
natural  wants  and  to  our  manifold  needs.  What  were 
man,  what  were  life,  what  were  civilization  without  labor? 
All  that  is  great  in  man  comes  of  labor^ — greatness  in  ai't, 
in  literature,  in  science.  Knowledge — "  the  wing  wherewith 
we  fly  to  heaven" — is  only  acquired  through  labor,  (ronius  is 
but  a  capability  of  laboring  intensely :  it  is  the  power  of 
making  great  and  sustained  efibrts.  Labor  may  be  a  chastise- 
ment, but  it  is  indeed  a  glorious  one.  It  is  worshij),  duty, 
praise,  and  immortality — for  those  wiio  labor  with  tlie  highest 
aims  and  for  the  purest  purposes. 

There  ai'e  many  who  murmur  and  conq)hun  at  the  law  of 
labor  undtu"  which  we  live,  without  rellecting  that  obedience  to 


18 


Necessity  for  Labor. 


[chap.  I. 


it  is  not  only  in  conformity  witli  the  Divine  will,  but  also 
nscessary  for  the  development  of  intelligence,  and  for  the 
thorough  enjoyment  of  our  common  nature.  Of  all  wretched 
men,  surely  the  idle  are  the  most  so — those  whose  life  is  barren 
of  utility,  who  have  nothing  to  do  except  to  gratify  their 
senses.  Are  not  such  nifsn  the  most  querulous,  miserable,  and 
dissatisfied  of  all,  constantly  in  a  state  of  ennui,  alike  useless 
to  themselves  and  to  others — mere  cumberers  of  the  earth, 
who,  when  removed,  are  missed  by  none,  and  whom  none 
regret  ?  Most  wretched  and  ignoble  lot,  indeed,  is  the  lot 
of  the  idlers. 

Who  have  helped  the  world  onward  so  much  as  the  workers  ; 
men  who  iiave  had  to  work  from  necessity  or  from  choice? 
All  that  we  call  progress^ — civilization,  well-being,  and  2)ros- 
perity — depends  upon  industry,  diligently  ai)plied — from  the 
culture  of  a  barley-stalk  to  the  construction  of  a  steamship  ; 
from  the  stitching  of  a  collar  to  the  sculpturing  of  "  the  statue 
that  enchants  the  world." 

All  useful  and  beautiful  thoughts,  in  like  manner,  are  the 
issue  of  labor,  of  study,  of  observation,  of  research,  of  diligent 
elaboration.  The  noblest  poem  can  not  be  elaborated,  and 
send  down  its  undying  strains  into  the  future,  without  steady 
and  painstaking  lal)or.  No  great  work  has  ever  been  done 
"  at  a  heat."  It  is  the  result  of  repeated  efforts,  and  of  many 
failures.  One  generation  begins,  and  another  continues — the 
present  co-operating  with  the  past.  Thus,  the  Parthenon 
began  with  a  mud-hut  ;  the  "  Last  Judgment "  with  a  few 
scratches  on  the  sand.  It  is  the  same  with  individuals  of  the 
race :  they  begin  with  abortive  eflorts,  which,  by  moans  of 
perseverance,  load  to  successful  issues. 

The  history  of  industry  is  uniform  in  the  character  of  its 
illustrations.  Industry  enables  the  poorest  man  to  achieve 
honor,  if  not  distinction.  Th  e  greatest  names  in  the  history  of 
art,  literature,  and  science  are  those  of  laboring  men.  A 
working  instrument-maker  gave  us  the  steam-engine  ;  a  barber, 
the  spiuning-nuichine  ;  a  weaver,  the  mule  ;  a  pitman  perfected 
the  locomotive  ;  and  working-men  of  all  grades  have,  one  after 
another,  added  to  the  triumphs  of  mechanical  skill.  , 


CHAP.  I.] 


Thrift  and  Civilization. 


19 


By  the  working-iiuiii  we  do  not  moan  merely  the  man  who 
labors  with  his  muscles  and  sinews.  A  horse  can  do  this. 
But  lie  is  pre-eminently  the  working-man  who  works  with  his 
brain  also,  and  whose  whole  physical  system  is  under  the 
influence  of  his  higher  faculties.  The  man  who  paints  a 
picture,  who  writes  a  book,  who  makes  a  law,  who  creates 
a  poem,  is  a  working-man  of  the  highest  order;  not  so 
necessary  to  the  physical  sustainment  of  the  community  as  the 
plowman  or  the  shepherd,  but  not  less  important  as  providing 
for  society  its  highest  intellectual  nourishment. 

Having  said  so  much  of  the  importance  and  the  necessity  of 
industry,  let  us  see  what  uses  are  made  of  the  advantages 
derivable  from  it.  It  is  clear  that  man  would  have  continued 
a  savage  but  for  the  accumulations  of  savings  made  by  our 
forefathers — the  savings  of  skill,  of  art,  of  invention,  and 
of  intellectual  culture. 

It  is  the  savings  of  the  world  that  have  made  the  civilization 
of  the  world.  Savings  are  the  result  of  labor ;  and  it  is  only 
when  laborers  begin  to  save  that  the  results  of  civilization 
accumulate.  We  have  said  that  thrift  began  with  civilization  : 
we  might  almost  have  said  that  thrift  produced  civilization. 
Thrift  produces  capital,  and  capital  is  the  conserved  result 
of  labor.  The  ca})italist  is  merely  a  man  who  does  not  spend 
all  that  is  earned  by  work. 

But  thrift  is  not  a  natural  instinct.  It  is  an  acquired 
principle  of  conduct.  It  involves  self-denial — the  denial  of 
present  eiijoymentfor  future  good — the  subordination  of  animal 
appetite  to  reason,  forethought,  and  prudence.  It  works 
for  to-day,  but  also  provides  for  to-morrow.  It  invests  the 
capital  it  has  saved,  and  makes  ^jrovisiou  for  the  future. 

"  Man's  right  of  seeing  the  future,"  says  Mr.  Edward 
Denison,  "  which  is  conferred  on  him  by  reason,  has  attached 
to  it  the  duty  of  i)roviding  for  that  future ;  and  our  lauguago 
bears  witness  to  this  truth  by  using,  as  expressive  of  fictive 
precaution  against  future  want,  a  word  which  in  its  radical 
meaning  imi)lies  only  a  passive  foreknowledge  of  the  same. 
Whenever  we  speak  of  the  virtue  of  providencef  we  assume 


,1.1 


f.Am 


'j<;j|iw^pi«Hvi<i»WP.mpiiiii,u«wiijl.  f  i)^y,'<H><';|mH!>^l' 


20  Thrifty  Industry.  [chap.  i. 

that  fore- warned  is  fore-armed.  To  know  the  future  is  no 
virtue,  but  it  is  the  greatest  of  virtues  to  prepare  for  it." 

But  a  large  proportion  of  men  do  not  provide  for  the  future. 
They  do  not  remember  the  past.  They  think  only  of  the 
present.  They  preserve  nothing.  They  spend  all  that  they 
earn.  They  do  not  provide  for  themselves ;  they  do  not 
provide  for  their  families.  They  may  make  high  wages,  but 
eat  and  drink  the  whole  of  what  they  earn.  Such  people 
are  constantly  poor,  and  hanging  on  the  verge  of  destitution. 

It  is  the  same  with  nations.  The  nations  which  consume  all 
that  they  produce,  without  leaving  a  store  for  future  production, 
have  no  cai)ital.  Like  thriftless  individuals,  they  live  from 
hand  to  mouth,  and  are  always  poor  and  miserable.  Nations 
that  have  no  capital  have  no  commerce.  They  have  no 
accumulations  to  dispose  of;  hence  they  have  no  ships,  no 
sailors,  no  docks,  no  harbors,  no  canals,  and  no  railways. 
Thrifty  industry  lies  at  the  root  of  the  civilization  of  the 
world. 

Look  at  Spain.  There,  the  richest  soil  is  the  least  pro- 
ductive. Along  the  banks  of  the  Guadalquiver,  where  once 
twelve  thousand  villages  existed,  there  are  now  not  eight 
hundred  ;  and  they  are  full  of  beggars.  A  Spanish  proverb 
says,  "  El  cielo  y  suelo  es  bueno,  el  entresuelo  tnalo  " — "  The  sky 
is  good,  the  earth  is  good ;  that  only  is  bad  which  lies  between 
the  sky  and  the  earth."  Continuous  effort,  or  patient  labor,  is 
for  the  Spaniard  an  insupportable  thing.  Half  through  indol- 
ence, half  through  pride,  he  can  not  bend  to  work.  A  Spaniard 
will  blush  to  work  ;  ho  will  not  blush  to  beg  ! 

It  is  in  this  way  that  society  mainly  consists  of  two  classes 
— the  savers  and  the  wasters,  the  provident  and  the  im- 
provident, the  thrifty  and  the  thriftless,  the  Haves  and  the 
Have-nots. 

The  men  who  economize  by  means  of  labor  become  the 
owners  of  capital  which  sets  other  labor  in  motion.  Capital 
accumulates  in  their  hands,  and  they  employ  other  laborers  to 
work  for  them.     Thus  trade  and  commerce  begin. 

The  thrifty  build  houses,  warehouses,  and  mills.     They  fit 


CHAP.  I.J 


Thrifty  Economy, 


21 


manufactories  witli  tools  and  machines.  They  build  ships,  and 
send  them  to  various  parts  of  the  world.  They  put  their 
capital  together,  and  build  railroads,  harbors,  and  docks.  They 
open  up  mines  of  coal,  iron,  and  copper ;  and  erect  pumping- 
engines  to  keep  them  clear  of  water.  They  employ  laborers  io 
work  the  mines,  and  thus  give  rise  to  an  immense  amount 
of  employment. 

All  this  is  the  result  of  thrift.  It  is  the  result  of  econ- 
omizing money,  and  employing  it  for  beneficial  purposes.  The 
thriftless  man  has  no  share  in  the  progress  of  the  world.  lie 
spends  all  that  he  gets,  and  can  give  no  help  to  anybody. 
No  matter  how  much  money  ho  makes,  his  position  is  not 
in  any  respect  raised.  He  husbands  none  of  his  resources. 
He  is  always  calling  for  help.  He  is,  in  fact,  the  born  thrall 
and  slave  of  the  thrifty. 


.  ^il'!! 


If 


IS 


■«;^fHmpn|9BP<*i^ijivi.VJv<>"  illMi''  ^.L'J*M>M  "  VM.mJiNjiuiiiuiiiji.  i 


Mil 
H 


CHAPTEE  II. 


HABITS    OF    THRIFT. 


hi 


I 

I 

'|l  ii; 

IP; 

j|ii:i 

i 


"  Die  Hauptsache  ist  dass  man  lerne  sicli  aelbst  zu  beherrschen." 
[The  great  matter  is  to  learn  to  rule  one's  self.]— Goethe. 

*'  Most  men  work  for  the  present,  a  few  for  the  future.  The  wise 
work  for  both — for  the  future  in  the  present,  and  for  the  present  in  the 
future." — OuesNCS  at  Truth. 

"  The  secret  of  all  success  is  to  know  how  to  deny  yourself If 

you  once  learn  to  get  the  whip-hand  of  yourself,  that  is  the  best 
educator.  Prove  to  me  that  you  can  control  yourself,  and  I'll  say 
you're  an  educated  man  ;  and  without  this,  all  other  education  is  good 
for  next  to  nothing." — Mrs.  Olipiiant. 

"  All  the  world  cries,  '  Where  is  the  man  who  will  save  us  ?  We 
want  a  man  ! '  Don't  look  so  far  for  this  man  :  you  have  him  at  hand. 
This  man — it  is  you,  it  is  I,  it  is  each  one  of  us  ! How  to  consti- 
tute one's  self  a  man  ?  Nothing  harder,  if  one  knows  not  how  to  tvill 
it ;  nothing  easier,  if  one  wills  it." — Alexander  Dumas. 

pOMPETENCE  and  comfort  lie  within  the  reach  of  most 
^  people,  were  they  to  take  the  adequate  means  to  secure 
and  enjoy  them.  Men  who  are  paid  good  wages  might  also 
become  capitalists,  and  take  their  fair  share  in  the  improve- 
ment and  well-being  of  the  world.  But  it  is  only  by  the 
exercise  of  labor,  energy,  honesty,  and  thrift,  that  they  can 
advance  their  own  position  or  that  of  their  class. 

Society  at  present  suffers  far  more  from  waste  of  money 
than  from  want  of  money.  It  is  easier  to  make  money  than 
to  know  how  to  spend  it.  It  is  not  what  a  man  gets  that 
constitutes  his  wealth,  but  his  manner  of  spending  and 
economizing.     And  when  a  man  obtains  by  his  labor  more  than 


CHAP.    II.] 


Workmen  and  Capital. 


23 


enough  for  his  personal  and  family  wants,  and  can  lay  by  a 
little  store  of  savings  besides,  he  unquestionably  possesses  the 
elements  of  social  well-being.  The  savings  may  amount  to 
little,  but  they  may  be  sufficient  to  make  him  independent. 

There  is  no  reason  why  the  highly  paid  workman  of  to-day 
may  not  save  a  store  of  capital.  It  is  merely  a  matter  of  self- 
denial  and  private  economy.  Indeed,  the  principal  industrial 
leaders  of  to-day  consist,  for  the  most  i)art,  of  men  who  have 
sprung  directly  from  the  ranks.  It  is  the  accumulation  of 
experience  and  skill  that  makes  the  difference  between  the 
workman  and  the  /io-workman  ;  and  it  depends  upon  the  work- 
man himself  whether  he  will  save  his  capital  or  waste  it.  If 
he  save  it,  he  will  ahvays  find  that  he  has  sufficient  oppor- 
tunities for  employing  it  prolitably  and  usefully. 

"  When  I  was  tlown  in  Lancashire  the  other  day,"  said  JVCr. 
Cobden  to  his  fellow-townsmen  at  Midhurst,  "  I  visited  a  mill, 
in  comj)any  with  some  other  gentlemen,  and  that  null  belonged 
to  a  person  whose  real  name  I  will  not  mention,  but  whom  for 
the  present  pur})ose  I  will  call  Mr.  Smith.  There  could  not 
have  been  less  than  three  or  four  thousand  persons  engaged  in 
this  mill  when  it  was  at  work,  and  there  were  seven  hundred 
power-looms  under  one  roof.  As  we  ware  coming  away,  one 
of  the  friends  who  accompanied  me  patted  the  owner  of  the 
mill  on  the  shoulder,  and  with  that  frank  and  manly  familiarity 
which  rather  distinguishes  the  Lancashire  race,  he  said,  '  Mr. 
Smith  was  a  working-man  himself  twenty-five  years  ago,  and 
he  owes  all  this  entirely  to  his  own  industry  and  frugality.' 
To  which  Mr.  Smith  immediately  replied,  in  the  fiame  frank 
and  good-humored  manner,  '  Nay,  I  do  not  owe  it  all  to  my- 
self; I  married  a  wife  with  a  fortune;  for  she  was  earning 
nine  shillings  and  sixpence  a  week  as  a  weaver  at  the  power- 
loom  when  she  married  me.* " 

Th''ift  of  time  is  ecpial  to  thrift  of  money.  Franklin  said, 
"  Time  is  gold."  If  one  wishes  to  earn  money,  it  may  be  done 
by  the  propei'  use  of  time.  But  time  may  also  be  spent  in 
doing  many  good  and  noble  actions.  It  may  be  si)^mt  in  learn- 
ing, in  study,  in  art,  in  science,  in  literature.  Time  can  bo 
economized  by  system.     System  is  an  arrangement  to  secure 


i 


.nil 


P 


\\ 


''& 


ii 


n 


24 


Habits  of  Economy. 


[chap.  II. 


certain  ends,  so  that  no  time  may  be  lost  in  accomplishing 
them.  Every  business  man  must  be  systematic  and  orderly ; 
so  must  every  housewife.  There  must  be  a  place  for  every 
thing,  and  every  thing  in  its  place.  There  must  also  be  a  time 
for  every  thing,  and  every  thing  must  be  done  in  time. 

It  is  not  necessarj'  to  show  that  economy  is  useful.  Nobody 
denies  that  thrift  may  be  practised.  We  see  numerous 
examples  of  it.  What  many  men  have  already  done,  all  other 
men  may  do.  Nor  is  thrift  a  painful  virtue.  On  the  contrary, 
it  enables  us  to  avoid  much  contempt  and  many  indignities. 
It  requires  us  to  deny  ourselves,  but  not  to  abstain  from  any 
proper  enjoyment.  It  provides  many  honest  pleasures,  of 
which  thriftlessness  and  extravagance  deprive  us 

Let  no  man  Bay  that  he  can  not  economize.  There  are  few 
persons  who  could  not  contrive  to  save  a  few  shillings  weekly. 
In  twenty  years,  three  shillings  saved  weekly  would  amount 
to  two  hundred  and  forty  pounds  ;  and  in  ten  years  more,  by 
addition  of  interest,  to  four  hundred  and  twenty  pounds. 
Some  may  say  that  they  can  not  save  nearly  so  much.  Well ! 
begin  with  two  shillings,  one  shilling,  or  even  sixpence.  Begin 
somewhere ;  but,  at  all  events,  make  a  beginning.  Sixpence  a 
week,  deposited  in  the  savings-bank,  will  amount  to  forty 
})Ounds  in  twenty  yeai's,  and  seventy  pounds  in  thirty  years. 
It  is  the  habit  of  economizing  and  denying  one*s  self  that  needs 
to  be  formed. 

Thrift  does  not  require  superior  courage,  nor  superior 
intellect,  nor  any  superhuman  virtue.  It  merely  requires 
common  sense^  and  the  power  of  resisting  selfish  enjoyments. 
In  fact,  thrift  is  merely  common  sense  in  every  day  working 
action.  It  needs  no  fervent  resolution,  but  only  a  little 
patient  self-denial.  Begin  is  its  device  !  The  more  the  habit 
of  thrift  is  practised,  the  easier  it  becomes,  and  the  sooner  it 
compensates  the  self-denier  for  the  sacrifices  which  it  has 
imposed. 

The  question  may  be  asked  :  Is  it  i)Ossible  for  a  man  work- 
ing for  smjill  wages  to  save  anything,  and  lay  it  by  in  a 
savings-bank,  when  he  requires  every  penny  for  the  mainten- 
ance of  his  family  1,     But  the  fact  remains,  that  it  is  done  by 


CHAP.    II.] 


Self-indulgence. 


25 


many  industrious  and  sober  men  ;  that  they  do  deny  them- 
selves, and  put  their  spare  earnings  into  savings-banks,  and 
the  other  receptacles  provided  for  poor  men's  savings.  And  if 
some  can  do  this,  all  may  do  it  under  similar  circumstances, 
without  depriving  themselves  of  any  genuine  pleasure  or  any 
real  enjoyment. 

How  intensely  selfish  is  it  for  any  one  in  the  receipt  of  good 
pay  to  spend  everything  upon  himself;  or,  if  he  has  a  family, 
to  spend  his  whole  earnings  from  week  to  week,  and  lay 
nothing  by.  When  we  hear  that  a  man  who  has  been  in  the 
receipt  of  a  good  salary  has  died  and  left  nothing  behind  him 
— that  he  has  left  his  wife  and  family  destitute — left  them  to 
chance — to  live  or  perish  anywhere — we  can  not  but  regard  it 
as  the  most  selfish  tbriftlessness.  And  yet  comparatively 
little  is  thought  of  such  cases.  Perhaps  the  hat  goes  round. 
Subscriptions  may  produce  something — perhaps  nothing  ;  and 
the  ruined  remnants  of  the  unhappy  family  sink  into  poverty 
and  destitution. 

Yet  the  merest  prudence  would,  to  a  great  extent,  have 
obviated  this  result.  The  curtailment  of  any  sensual  and 
selfish  enjoyment — of  a  glass  of  beer  or  a  screw  of  tobacco — 
would  enable  a  man,  in  the  course  of  years,  to  save  at  least 
something  for  others,  instead  of  wasting  it  on  himself.  It  is, 
in  fact,  the  absolute  duty  of  the  poorest  man  to  provide,  in 
however  slight  a  degree,  for  the  support  of  himself  and  his 
family  in  the  season  of  sickness  and  helplessness,  which  often 
comes  upon  men  when  they  least  expect  such  a  visitation. 

Comparatively  few  people  can  be  rich  ;  but  most  have  it 
in  their  power  to  acquire,  by  industry  and  economy,  sufiicient 
to  meet  their  personal  wants.  They  may  even  become  the 
possessors  of  savings  sufiicient  to  secure  them  against  penuiy 
and  poverty  in  their  old  age.  It  is  not,  however,  the  want  of 
opportunity,  but  the  want  of  will,  that  stands  in  the  way 
of  economy.  Men  may  labor  unceasingly  with  hand  or  head  ; 
but  they  can  not  abstain  from  spending  too  freely,  and  living 
too  highly. 

The  majority  prefer  the  enjoyment  of  pleasure  to  the 
practice  of   self-denial.     With  the  mass  of  men  the  animal 


U:« 


\$^ 


i 


fi 


n S"^*'i-^^-W^W^     ff  Pl>  F"  r" 


'-v^'^niiiiiqi^i  i.Mj,ji  mK^ 


26 


?7«es  o/"  Saved  3foney. 


[chap.  II. 


fii' 


m  I 


!!;'i: 

';i',' 


liilli^ 
III:; 


li  i 


is  paramount.  They  often  spend  all  that  they  earn.  But  it  is 
not  morel}?  the  working  people  who  are  spendthrifts.  We 
hear  of  men  who  for  years  have  been  earning  and  spending 
hundreds  a  year,  who  suddenly  die,  leaving  their  children 
penniless.  Everybody  knows  of  such  cases.  At  their  death 
the  very  furniture  of  the  house  they  have  lived  in  belongs 
to  others.  It  is  sold  to  pay  their  funeral  expenses,  and  the 
debts  which  they  have  incurred  during  their  thriftless  life-time. 

Money  represents  a  multitude  of  objects  without  value, 
or  without  real  utility ;  but  it  also  represents  something  much 
more  precious,  and  that  is  independence.  In  this  light  it 
is  of  great  moral  importance. 

As  a  guarantee  of  independence,  the  modest  and  plebeian 
quality  of  economy  is  at  once  ennobled  and  raised  to  the  rank 
of  one  of  the  most  meritorious  of  virtues.  "  Never  treat 
money  affairs  with  levity,"  said  Bulwer  ;  "  money  is  character." 
Some  of  man's  best  qualities  depend  upon  the  right  use  of 
money — such  as  his  generosity,  benevolence,  justice,  honesty, 
and  forethought.  Many  of  his  worst  qualities  also  originate  in 
the  bad  use  of  money — such  as  greed,  miserliness,  injustice, 
extravagance,  and  improvidence. 

No  class  ever  accomplished  anything  that  lived  from  hand 
to  mouth.  People  who  spend  all  that  they  earn  are  ever 
hanging  on  the  brink  of  destitution.  They  must  necessarily 
be  weak  and  impotent — the  slaves  of  time  and  circumstance. 
They  keep  themselves  poor.  They  lose  self-respect  as  well 
as  the  respect  of  others.  It  is  impossible  that  they  can  be  free 
and  independent.  To  be  thriftless  is  enough  to  deprive  one 
of  all  manly  spii'it  and  virtue. 

But  a  man  with  something  saved,  no  matter  how  little,  is  in 
a  different  i)osition.  The  little  capital  he  has  stored  up  is 
always  a  source  of  power.  He  is  no  longer  the  sport  of  time 
find  fate.  He  can  boldly  look  the  world  in  the  face.  He 
is,  in  a  manner,  his  own  master.  He  can  dictate  his  own 
terms.  He  can  neither  be  bought  nor  sold, 
forward  with  cheerfulness  to  an  old  age  of 
happiness. 

As  men  become  wise  and  thoughtful,  they  generally  become 


He  can  look 
comfort   and 


CHAP.  II.] 


Extravagant  Living. 


27 


savage. 


provident  and  frugal,  A  thoughtless  man,  like  a 
spends  as  he  gets,  thinking  nothing  of  to-morrow,  of  the  time 
of  adveri  ity,  or  of  the  claims  of  those  whom  he  has  made 
dependent  on  him.  But  a  wise  man  thinks  of  the  future  ; 
he  prepares  in  good  time  for  the  evil  day  tliat  may  come  npon 
him  and  his  family  ;  and  he  provides  carefully  for  those  who 
are  near  and  dear  to  him. 

What  a  serious  responsibility  does  the  man  incur  who 
marries  !  Not  many  seriously  think  of  this  responsibility. 
Perhaps  this  is  wisely  ordered.  For  mnch  serious  thinking 
might  end  in  the  avoidance  of  mamed  life  and  its  respon- 
sibilities. But,  once  married,  a  man  ought  forthwith  to 
determine  that,  so  far  as  his  own  efforts  are  concerned,  want 
shall  never  enter  his  liousehold  ;  and  that  his  children  shall 
not,  in  the  event  of  his  being  removed  from  the  scene  of  life 
and  labor,  be  left  a  burden  upon  society. 

Economy  with  this  object  is  an  important  duty.  "Without 
economy,  no  man  can  be  just — no  man  can  be  honest.  Impro- 
vidence is  cruelty  to  women  and  children,  though  the  cruelty 
is  born  of  ignorance.  A  father  spends  his  sui'plus  means 
in  drink,  providing  little  and  saving  nothing  ;  and  then  he 
dies,  leaving  his  destitute  family  his  life-long  victims.  Can 
any  form  of  cruelty  surpass  this?  Yet  this  reckless  course 
is  pursued  to  a  large  extent  among  every  class.  The  middle 
and  upper  classes  are  equally  guilty  with  the  lower  class. 
They  live  beyond  their  means.  They  live  extravagantly. 
They  are  ambitious  of  glare  and  glitter,  frivolity  and  pleasure. 
They  struggle  to  be  rich,  that  they  may  have  the  means  of 
spending — of  drinking  rich  wines  and  giving  good  dinners. 

When  Mr.  Hume  said  in  the  House  of  Commons,  some 
years  ago,  that  the  tone  of  living  in  England  was  altogether 
too  high,  his  observation  was  followed  with  "  loud  laughter." 
Yet  his  remark  was  perfectly  true.  It  is  far  more  true  now 
than  it  was  then.  Thinking  people  believe  that  life  is  now  too 
fast,  and  that  we  are  living  at  high  pressure.  In  short,  we  live 
extravagantly.  We  live  beyond  our  means.  We  throw  away 
our  earnings,  and  often  throw  our  lives  after  them. 

Many  persons  are  diligent  enough  in  making  money,  but  do 


!     i| 


If 


I 


^1 


''IT 


s;   I    'J'l 

1 5  n 


i-i 


■■■  »■«  I  •■p«iijn«r' 


28 


Bargain-hvying. 


[chap.  II. 


i! 


m 


III 


not  know  how  to  economize  it,  or  liow  to  spond  it.  They 
have  sufficient  skill  and  industry  to  do  the  one,  but  they  want 
the  necessary  wisdom  to  do  the  other.  The  temporary 
passion  for  enjoyment  seizes  us,  and  we  give  way  to  it 
without  regard  to  consequences.  And  yet  it  may  he  merely 
the  result  of  forgetfulness,  and  may  be  easily  controlled  by 
firmness  of  will,  and  by  energetic  resolution  to  avoid  the 
occasional  causes  of  expenditure  for  the  future. 

The  habit  of  saving  arises,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  desire  to 
ameliorate  our  social  condition,  as  well  as  to  ameliorate  the 
condition  of  those  who  are  dependent  upon  us.  It  dispenses 
with  everything  which  is  not  essential,  and  avoids  all  methods 
of  living  that  are  wasteful  and  extravagant.  A  purchase 
made  at  the  lowest  price  will  be  dear,  if  it  bo  a  superfluity. 
Little  expenses  lead  to  great.  Buying  things  that  are  not 
wanted  soon  accustoms  us  to  prodigality  in  other  respects. 

Cicero  said,  *'  Not  to  have  a  mania  for  buying,  is  to  possess 
a  revenue."  Many  are  carried  away  by  the  habit  of  bargain- 
buying.  "  Here  is  something  wonderfully  cheap  :  let  us  buy 
it."  "  Have  you  any  use  for  it  ]"  "  No,  not  at  present ;  but  it 
is  sure  to  come  in  useful,  some  time."  Fashion  runs  in  this 
habit  of  buying.  Some  buy  old  china— as  much  as  will 
furnish  a  china-shop.  Others  buy  old  pictures — old  furniture 
— ulcl  wines — all  great  bargains  !  Tliere  would  be  little  harm 
in  buying  these  old  things,  if  they  were  not  so  often  bought  at 
the  expense  of  the  connoisseur's  creditors.  Horace  Walpole 
once  said,  "  I  hope  that  there  will  not  b^>  another  sale,  for 
I  have  not  an  inch  of  room  nor  a  farthing  left," 

Men  must  prepare  in  youth  and  middle  age  the  means 
for  enjoying  old  age  pleasantly  and  happily.  There  can  })c 
nothing  more  distressing  than  to  see  an  old  mai.  who  has  spent 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  well-paid-for  labor,  reduced  to 
the  necessity  of  begging  for  bread,  and  relying  entirely  upon 
the  commiseration  of  his  neighbors  or  upon  the  bounty  of 
strangers.  Such  a  consideration  as  this  should  inspire  men 
in  early  life  with  a  determination  to  work  and  to  save,  for  the 
benefit  of  themselves  and  their  families  in  later  years. 

It  is,  in  fact,  in  youth  that  economy  should  be  practised, 


CHAP.  II.] 


Thrift  and  Unthrift. 


29 


and  in  old  age  that  men  should  dispense  liberally,  provided 
they  do  not  exceed  their  income.  The  young  man  has  a  long 
future  before  him,  during  which  he  may  exercise  the  principles 
of  economy  ;  while  the  other  is  reaching  the  end  of  his  caret:', 
and  can  carry  nothing  out  of  the  world  with  him. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  usual  practice.  The  young  man 
now  spends,  or  desires  to  spend,  quite  as  liberally,  and  often 
much  more  liVjerally,  than  his  father,  who  is  about  to  end 
his  career.  He  begins  life  where  his  father  left  off.  He 
spends  more  than  his  father  did  at  liis  age,  and  soon  finds 
himself  up  to  his  ears  in  debt.  To  satisfy  his  incessant  wants, 
he  resorts  to  unscrupulous  means  and  to  illicit  gains.  He 
tries  to  make  money  rapidly  ;  he  speculates,  overtrades,  and  is 
speedily  wound  up.  Thus  he  obtains  experience  ;  but  it  is  the 
result,  not  of  well-doinj-   but  of  ill-doing. 

Socrates  recommends  fathers  of  families  to  observe  the 
l)ractice  of  their  thrifty  neighbors — of  those  who  spend  their 
means  to  the  best  advantage — and  to  profit  by  their  example. 
Thrift  is  essentially  practical,  and  can  best  be  taught  by  facts. 
Two  men  earn,  say,  five  shillings  a  day.  They  are  in  precisely 
the  same  condition  as  respects  family  living  and  expenditure. 
Yet  the  one  says  he  can  not  save,  and  does  not ;  while  the 
other  says  he  can  save,  and  regularly  deposits  part  of  his 
savings  in  a  savings-bank,  and  eventually  becomes  a  capitalist. 

Samuel  Johnson  fully  knew  the  straits  of  poverty.  He 
once  signed  his  name  Impransus,  or  Dinnerless.  He  had 
walked  the  streets  with  Savage,  not  knowing  where  to  lay  his 
head  at  night.  Johnson  never  forgot  the  poverty  through 
which  he  passed  in  his  early  life,  and  he  was  always  counselling 
his  friends  and  readers  to  avoid  it.  Like  Cicero,  he  averred 
that  the  best  source  of  wealth  or  well-being  was  economy. 
He  called  it  the  daughter  of  Prudence,  the  sister  of  Tem- 
pertvuce,  and  the  mother  of  Liberty. 

"  Poverty,*'  he  said,  "  takes  away  so  many  means  of  doing 
good,  and  produces  so  much  inability  to  resist  evil,  both 
natural  and  moral,  that  it  is  by  all  virtuous  means  to  be 
avoided,  llesolvo,  then,  not  to  bo  poor  ;  whatever  you  have, 
spend  leas.     Frugality  is  not  only  the  basis  of  quiet,  but  of 


W\ 


-' I «<WP<"  » l|«^WW(^ip*^« 


■IIPMWPW*  iIH>iU!W4Uipi''J!W.P'*-llll?P'!J 


30 


Johnson  on  Economy. 


[chap.  11. 


inai  :i 


'i 


ill 


beneficence  No  man  can  help  others  wlio  wants  help  him- 
self :  we  must  have  enuu<,fh  before  we  have  to  spare." 

And  again  he  said,  "  Poverty  is  a  great  enemy  to  human 
liappiner-s.     It  certainly  destroys  liberty,  and  it  makes  some 

virtues  impracticable,  and  others  extremely  difiicult All 

to  whom  wujit  is  terrible,  U})on  whatever  principle,  ought  to 
think  themselves  obli^rd  to  learn  the  stige  maxims  of  our  ])ar- 
simonioiis  ancestoi.s,  and  attain  the  salutary  arts  of  contracting 
expense ;  for  without  economy  none  can  be  rich,  and  with  it 
few  can  be  poor." 

When  economy  is  looked  u])on  as  a  thing  that  must  be 
practised,  it  will  never  be  felt  as  a  burden  ;  and  those  who 
have  not  before  observed  it,  will  be  astonished  to  find  what  a 
few  pence  or  shillings  laid  aside  weekly  will  do  toward  secur- 
ing moral  elevation,  mental  culture,  and  personal  independence. 

There  is  a  dignity  in  every  attem])t  to  economize.  Its  very 
practice  is  impi'oving.  It  indieates  self-deiual,  and  imparts 
strength  to  the  character.  It  ]»roduces  a  well-regulated  mind. 
It  fosters  temperance.  It  is  based  on  forethought.  It  makes 
})rudence  the  dominating  characttu-istic.  It  gives  virtue  the 
mastery  over  self-indulgence.  Al)0ve  all,  it  secures  comfort, 
drives  away  care,  and  disjiels  nnuiy  vexations  and  anxieties 
which  might  otherwise  i)rey  upon  us. 

Some  will  say,  *'  It  can't  be  done."  But  everybody  can  do 
something.  "  It  can't  "  is  the  ruin  of  men  and  of  nations.  In 
fact,  there  is  no  greater  cant  than  cant.  Take  an  instance  : 
A  glass  of  beer  a  day  is  ecpial  to  forty-five  shillings  a  year, 
'•'his  sum  M'ill  insure  a  man's  life  for  a  hundred  and  thirty 
pounds  payable  at  death.  Or,  jjlaced  in  a  savings-bank,  it 
would  amount  to  a  hundred  ])oun(ls  in  twenty  years.  But 
many  d»ink  half  a  dozen  glasses  of  beer  a  day.  This  amount 
of  beer,  not  drunk,  would  amount,  during  that  time,  to  six 
Inindred  pomids.  "^I'lie  man  who  sj)ends  nine})enco  a  day  in 
liquor  Bqiuinders  in  fifty  years  nearly  two  thousand  pounds. 

A  master  recommcMuled  one  of  his  workmen  to  "  lay  by 
something  for  a  rainy  day."  Shortly  after,  the  master  asked 
the    man    how    nnich    he    had    added    to   his    store.      "  Faith, 


I''  '■ 


CHAP.  II.] 


Self-respect. 


31 


notliing  at  nil,"  said  ho,  "  I  did  as  you  liid  me  ;  but  it  rained 
very  hard  yesterday,  and  it  all  \veiit-  -in  drink  !  " 

That  a  man  should  maintain  hinisell'  and  his  family  without 
the  help  of  others  is  due  to  his  sense  of  se]f-res]iect.  Every 
genuine,  self-helping  man  ought  to  respect  himself.  He  is  the 
centre  of  lys  own  little  world.  His  personal  loves,  likings, 
experiences,  hoj)es,  and  f(?ars — how  important  they  are  to  him, 
although  of  little  consecjuence  to  others  !  They  aft'ect  his 
happiness,  his  <.laily  lift;,  and  his  Avhole  being  as  a  man.  He 
can  not,  therefore,  hut  feel  interested,  deeply  interested,  in  all 
that  concerns  himself. 

To  do  justice,  a  man  must  think  well  not  oidy  of  himself, 
but  of  the  duties  which  he  owes  to  others  !  He  must  not  aim 
too  low,  but  regard  man  as  created  "  a  little  lower  than  the 
angels."  Let  him  think  of  his  high  destiny — of  the  eternal 
interests  in  which  lu;  has  a  i)art — of  the  great  scheme  of 
nature  and  })rovideiice — of  tiio  intellect  with  which  he  haa 
been  endowed — of  the  power  of  loving  conferred  u])on  him  — 
of  the  home  on  earth  provided  lor  liim  •  and  he  wdll  cease  to 
think  meaidy  of  himself.  The  j)oorest  human  being  is  the 
centre  of  two  eternities,  the  Creator  overshadowing  all. 

Hence,  let  every  man  respect  himself  -his  body,  his  mind, 
liis  character.  Self-respect,  originating  in  self-love,  instigates 
the  first  step  of  iin])rovement.  it  stimulates  a  man  to  »ise, 
to  look  upward,  to  devcdop  his  intelligence,  to  improve  his 
condition.  Self  respect  is  the  root  of  most  of  the  virtues — 
of  cleaidiness,  chastity,  reveriMicc,  honofity,  sobriety.  To  think 
meanly  of  one's  self  is  to  sink — sometimes  to  descend  a  pre- 
ci])ice  at  tlu^  bottom  of  which  is  infamy, 

Every  man  can  helj)  himself  to  some  extent.  We  are  not 
mere  straws  thrown  u[)(Hi  the  euri-ent  to  maik  its  course  ;  but 
possessed  of  freedom  ot"  action,  endowi'd  with  })ower  to  stem 
the  waves  and  rise  above  them,  each  marking  out  a  course  for 
himself.  We  can  each  elevate  ourselves  in  the  scale  of  moral 
being.  We  can  cherish  pure  thoughts.  We  can  perform 
good  actions.  We  can  live  soberly  and  frugally.  We  C!in 
provide  against  the  e\il  day.  W<'  can  read  good  books,  listen 
to  wise  tottchers,  and  phlc(^  ourselves  nnchu'  tlu^  (livinest   iu- 


'•;..*(  I 


■  lu 


.1  li* 


m 


32 


Uncertainty  of  Life. 


[chap.  II. 


ii 


■ii  111  ! 
'I'll,  i 


!     i 


:';i!i 


1 1  III, . 
It  !  1, 


fluences  on  earth.     We  can  live  for  the  highest  purposes,  and 
with  the  highest  aims  in  view. 

"Self-love  and  social  are  the  same,"  says  one  of  our  poets. 
The  man  who  improves  himself,  improves  the  world.  He 
adds  one  more  true  man  to  the  mass.  And  the  mass  being 
made  up  of  individuals,  it  is  clear  that  were  each  to  impi'ove 
himself,  the  result  would  be  the  improvement  of  the  whole. 
Social  advancement  is  the  consequence  of  individual  advance- 
ment. The  whole  can  not  be  ]iure,  unless  the  individuals 
composing  it  are  pure.  Society  at  large  is  but  the  reflex  of 
individual  conditions.  All  this  is  but  the  repetition  of  a 
truism,  but  truisms  have  often  to  be  repeated  to  make  their 
full  impression. 

Then,  again,  a  man,  when  he  has  improved  himself,  is  better 
able  to  improve  those  who  are  brought  into  contact  with  him. 
He  has  more  i)ower.  His  sphere  of  vision  is  enlarged.  He 
sees  more  clearly  the  defects  in  the  condition  of  others  that 
might  be  I'emedied.  He  can  lend  a  more  active  helping  hand 
to  raise  them.  He  has  done  his  duty  by  himself,  and  can  with 
more  authority  urge  upon  others  the  necessity  of  doing  the 
like  duty  to  themselves.  How  can  a  man  be  a  social  elevator, 
who  is  himself  walking  in  the  mire  of  self-indulgence?  How 
can  he  teach  sobriety  or  cleuidiness,  if  he  be  himself  drunken 
or  foul  {  "  Physician,  heal  thyself,"  is  the  answer  of  his 
neighbors. 

The  sum  and  substance  of  our  remarks  is  this  :  In  all  the 
individual  reforms  or  improvements  that  we  desire,  we  must 
begin  with  ourselves.  We  must  exhibit  our  goHi)el  in  our  own 
life.  We  must  teach  by  our  own  example.  If  we  would  have 
others  elevat(!d,  we  nnist  elevate  ourselves.  Each  man  can 
exhibit  the  results  in  his  own  person.  He  can  begin  with 
self- respect. 

The  uncertainty  of  life  is  a  strong  inducement  to  provide 
against  the  evil  day.  To  do  this  is  a  moral  and  social  as  well 
as  a  religious  duty.  "  But  if  any  j)rovide  not  for  his  own,  and 
specially  for  those  of  his  own  house,  he  hath  denied  the  faitli, 
and  is  worse  than  an  inlidel." 

The  uncertainty  of  life  is  prt^voi'bially  true.     The  strongest! 


**tu„ 


CHAP.    II.] 


Laws  of  Mortality. 


33 


and  healthiest  man  may  be  stricken  down  in  a  moment,  by 
accident  or  disease.  If  we  take  human  life  in  a  mass,  we  can 
not  fail  to  recognize  the  uncertainty  of  life  as  much  as  we  do 
the  certainty  of  death. 

There  is  a  striking  passage  in  Addison's  "  Vision  of  Mirza," 
in  which  life  is  pictured  as  a  passage  over  a  bridge  of  about 
a  hundred  arches..  A  black  cloud  hangs  over  each  end  of  the 
bridge.  At  tlie  entrance  to  it  there  are  hidden  pitfalls  very 
thickly  set,  through  which  throngs  disappear,  so  soon  as  they 
have  placed  their  feet  upon  the  bridge.  They  grow  thinner 
toward  the  centre ;  they  gradually  disappear ;  until  at  length 
only  a  few  persons  reach  the  farther  side,  and  these  also  liaving 
dropped  through  the  pitfalls,  the  bridge  at  its  farther  extremity 
becomes  entirely  clear.  The  description  of  Addison  corres- 
})onds  with  the  results  of  the  observations  made  as  to  the 
duration  of  human  life. 

Thus,  of  a  hundred  thousand  persons  l)orn  in  this  country, 
it  has  been  ascertained  that  a  fourth  of  them  die  before  they 
have  reached  their  fifth  year,  and  one-half  before  they  have 
reached  their  fiftieth  year.  One  thousand  one  hundred  will 
reach  their  ninetieth  year.  Sixteen  will  live  to  a  hundred. 
And  only  two  persons  out  of  the  hundred  thousand — like  the 
last  barks  of  an  innumet'able  convoy — will  reach  the  advanced 
and  helpless  age  of  a  hundred  and  five;  years. 

Two  things  are  very  obvious — the  uncertainty  as  to  the  hour 
of  death  in  individuals,  b\it  the  regularity  and  constancy  of 
the  circumstnnces  which  infiuence  the  duration  of  human  life 
in  the  aggregate.  It  is  a  matter  of  certainty  tliat  the  average 
life  of  all  persons  born  in  this  country  extends  to  about  forty- 
iive  years.  This  has  been  proved  l)y  a  very  large  number  of 
observations  of  human  life  and  its  duration. 

Equally  extensive  ol)sorvations  have  been  made  as  to  the 
average  number  of  persons  of  various  ages  who  die  yearly. 
It  is  always  the  number  of  the  exp(uimonts  which  gives  the 
law  of  the  probability.  It  is  on  such  observations  that  the 
actuary  founds  his  estinuites  of  the  mortality  that  exists  at 
any  given  period  of  life.  The  actuary  tells  you  that  ho  has 
been  guided  by  the  laws  of  mortality.     Now,  the  results  must 


it! 


Ww'M 


34 


Will  nohodi/  help  us  ? 


[chap.   II. 


be  veiy  regulai*  to  justify  tlie  actuary  in  speaking  of  mortality 
as  governed  by  laws.     And  yet  it  is  so. 

Indeed,  tlienj  wovdd  seoui  to  be  no  such  thing  as  chance  in 
the  world.  Man  lives  and  dies  in  conformity  to  a  law.  A 
sparrow  falls  to  the  ground  in  obedience  to  a  law.  Nay,  there 
are  matters  in  the  ordinary  transactions  of  life,  such  as  one 
might  suppose  were  the  mere  result  of  chance,  which  are  ascer- 
tained to  bo  of  remarkable  accuracy  when  taken  in  the  mass. 
For  instance,  the  number  of  letters  put  in  the  post-otUce  with- 
out an  address,  the  number  of  letters  wronijlv  directed,  the 
nund)er  containing  money,  the  number  unstamped,  continue 
nearly  the  same,  in  relation  to  the  number  of  letters  posted, 
from  one  year  to  another. 

Now,  it  is  tlio  business  of  man  to  understand  the  laws  of 
lioalth,  and  to  provide  against  their  consequences;  as,  for 
instance,  in  the  matter  of  sickness,  accident,  and  premature 
death.  We  can  not  escape  the  cons(!rpiences  of  transgression 
of  the  natural  laws,  though  we  may  have  meant  well.  We 
nuist  have  doiie  well.  The  ( -reator  does  not  alter  his  laws  to 
accommodate  them  to  our  ignorance.  He  has  furnished  us 
with  intelligence,  so  that  we  mny  understand  tliem  and  act 
upon  them  :  otlierwise  wo  must  suffer  th«  consequences  in 
inevitable  pain  a'.id  sorrow. 

We  often  hear  tlicj  cry  raised,  "  Will  nobody  help  us?  "  It 
is  a  spiritless,  hopeless  cry.,  It  is  sometimes  a  cry  of  revolting 
meanness,  esjxHaally  when  it  issues  from  those  who,  with  a 
little  self-denial,  sobriety,  and  tlirift,  might  easily  help  them- 
selves. 

Many  people  have  yet  to  learn  that  virtue,  knowledge, 
freedom,  and  prosi)erity  must  spring  from  tliemselves.  Legis- 
lation can  do  very  little  for  tluMu  :  it  can  not  make  them 
sob(;r,  intelligent,  and  well-doing.  The  prime  miseries  of 
most  men  have  their  origin  in  causes  far  removed  from  Acts 
of  Parliament. 

The  si)endtlirift  laughs  at  legislation.  The  drunkard  defies 
it,  and  arrogates  the  right  of  disixMising  with  forethought  and 
self-denial,  throwing  upon  others  the  blame  of  his  ultimate 
wretchedness.     The  mob  oratoi.',  who  gather  "  the  millions  " 


CHAP.    II.] 


Frotiperotis  Times. 


35 


about  them,  are  very  wide  of  tlie  mark,  wlieii,  iostead  of  seek- 
ing to  train  their  crowds  of  hearers  to  habits  of  frugality, 
temperance,  and  self-culture,  they  encourage  them  to  keep  up 
the  cry,  "  Will  nobody  help  us  1 " 

The  cry  sickens  the  soul.  It  slinvs  gross  ignorance  of  the 
first  elements  of  personal  welfare.  Help  is  in  men  themselves. 
They  were  l)orn  to  he][)  and  to  elevate  themselves.  They  must 
work  out  their  own  salvation.  The  poorest  men  have  done  it ; 
why  should  not  every  man  do  it  ?  The  brave,  upward  spirit, 
ever  conquers. 

The  number  of  well-paid  worl  meii  in  this  country  has 
beconu5  very  large,  who  might  easily  save  and  economize,  to 
the  improvement  of  their  moral  well-being,  of  their  respect- 
ability and  independence,  and  of  their  status  in  society  as  men 
and  citizens.  They  are  improvident  and  thriftless  to  an  extent 
which  proves  not  less  hurtful  to  their  })orsonal  happiness  and 
domestic  comfort,  than  it  is  injurious  to  the  society  of  which 
they  form  so  important  a  part. 

In  "  prosperous-  times  "  they  spend  their  gains  recklessly  ; 
and  when  adverse  times  come,  they  are  at  once  plunged  in 
misery.  Money  is  not  used,  l)ut  abused  ;  and  when  wage- 
earning  people  should  be  providing  against  old  age,  or  for  the 
wants  of  a  growing  family,  they  are,  in  too  many  cases,  feeding 
folly,  dissipation,  and  vioo.  Let  no  one  say  that  this  is  an 
exaggerated  picture.  It  is  enough  to  look  round  in  any 
neighborhood,  and  see  how  much  is  spent  and  how  li+'^le  is 
saved  ;  what  a  large  proportion  of  earnings  goes  to  the 
beer-shop,  and  how  little  to  the  savings-bank  or  the  benefit 
society. 

"  Prosperous  tinu^s  "  are  very  often  the  least  prosperous  of 
all  times.  In  })rosperous  tinuss,  mills  are  working  full  time  ; 
men,  women,  and  childre)n  are  paid  high  wages  ;  warehouse« 
are  emptied  and  tilled  ;  goods  aro  manufactured  and  exported  ; 
wherries  full  of  produce  i>ass  along  the  streets ;  immonso 
luggage  trains  run  along  the  railways,  and  heavily  laden  ships 
leave  our  shores  daily  foi-  foreign  i)orts,  full  of  the  products  of 
our  industry.  Everybody  seems  to  bo  becoming  richer  and 
more  prosperous.     But  we  do  not  thitdc  of  whether  men  and 


,.  m 
\  ill 

I'll 


VI 


i  I  llfl 


r:^ 


36 


The  least  Prosperous. 


[chap.   II. 


ii 


liii 


111! 


women  are  becoming  wiser,  better  trained,  less  self-indulgent, 
more  religiously  disposed,  or  living  for  any  higher  purpose 
than  the  satisfaction  of  the  animal  appetite. 

If  this  apparent  prosperity  be  closely  examined,  it  will  be 
found  that  expenditure  is  increasing  in  all  directions.  There 
are  demands  for  higher  wages ;  and  the  higher  wages,  when 
obtained,  are  spent  as  soon  as  earned.  Intemperate  habits  are 
formed,  and,  once  formed,  the  habit  of  intemperance  continues. 
Increased  wages,  instead  of  being  saved,  are,  for  the  most 
part,  spent  in  drink. 

Thus,  when  a  population  are  thoughtless  and  improvident, 
no  kind  of  material  prosperity  will  benefit  them.  Unless  they 
exercise  forethought  and  economy,  they  will  alternately  be  in 
a  state  of  "  hunger  and  burst."  When  trade  falls  off,  as  it 
usually  does  after  exceptional  prosperity,  they  will  not  be 
comforted  by  the  thought  of  what  they  might  have  saved  had 
it  ever  occurred  to  them  that  the  "  prosperous  times  "  might 
not  have  proved  permanent. 

During  prosperous  times.  Saint  Monday  is  regularly  ob- 
served. The  bank  holiday  is  repeated  weekly.  '*  Where  are 
all  the  workmen  ?  "  said  a  master  to  his  foreman,  on  going  the 
rounds  among  his  builders ;  "  this  work  must  be  pushed  on, 
and  covered  in  while  the  fine  weather  lasts."  "  Why,  sir," 
said  the  foreman,  "  this  is  Monday  ;  and  they  have  not  spent 
all  their  money  yet."  Dean  Boyd,  preaching  at  Exeter  on 
behalf  of  the  Devonshire  hospitals,  expressed  his  belief  that 
the  annual  loss  to  the  work-people  engaged  in  the  woollen 
manufacture,  the  cotton  trade,  tlie  brick-laying  and  building 
trade,  by  Idle  Monday,  amounted  to  over  seven  millions 
sterling. 

If  man's  chief  end  were  to  manufacture  cloth,  silk,  cotton, 
hardware,  toys,  and  china ;  to  buy  in  the  choajjest  market, 
and  to  sell  in  the  dearest ;  to  cultivate  land,  grow  corn,  and 
graze  cavtle  ;  to  live  for  mere  money  profit,  and  hoard  or  spend 
au  the  case  might  be,  we  might  then  congratulate  oiu'selves 
JVtOU  our  national  prosperit)^  But  is  this  the  chief  end  of 
I.  !au  %  Has  ho  not  faculties,  affections,  and  sympathies,  bo- 
:ii»de.-  muscular  organs '{     Has  not  his  mind  and  heart  certain 


CHAP.  II.] 


Moral  Independence. 


37 


claims,  as  well  as  his  mouth  and  his  back  1  Has  he  not  a 
soul  as  well  as  a  stomach  1  And  ought  not  "  prosperity  "  to 
include  the  improvement  and  well-being  of  hie  morals  and 
intellect,  as  well  as  of  his  bones  and  muscles  1 

Mere  money  is  no  indication  of  prosperity.  A  man's  nature 
may  remain  the  same.  It  may  even  grow  more  stunted  and 
deformed,  while  lie  is  doubling  his  expenditure,  or  adding  cent, 
per  cent,  to  his  hoards  yearly.  It  is  the  same  with  the  mass. 
The  increase  of  their  gains  may  merely  furnish  them  with 
increased  means  for  gratifying  animal  indulgences,  unless  their 
moral  character  keeps  pace  with  their  physical  advancement. 
Double  the  gains  of  an  uneducated,  overworked  man,  in  a  time 
of  prosperity,  and  what  is  the  result  ?  Simply  that  you  have 
furnished  him  with  the  means  of  eating  and  drinking  more  ! 
Thus,  not  even  ihe  material  well-being  of  the  population  is 
secured  by  that  condition  of  things  which  is  defined  by  poli- 
tical economists  as  "  national  prosperity."  And  so  long  as 
the  moral  elements  of  the  question  are  ignored,  this  kind  of 
"prosperity"  is,  we  believe,  calculated  to  produce  far  more 
mischievous  results  than  good.  It  is  knowledge  and  virtue 
alone  that  can  confer  dignity  on  a  man's  life  :  and  the  growth 
of  such  qualities  in  a  nation  are  the  only  true  marks  of  its 
real  prosperity  ;  not  the  infinite  manufacture  and  sale  of  cotton 
prints,  toys,  hardware,  and  crockery. 

The  Bishop  of  Manchester,  when  preaching  at  a  harvest 
thanksgiving  near  Preston,  referred  to  a  letter  wjiich  he  had 
received  from  a  clergyman  in  the  South  of  England,  who,  after 
expressing  his  pleasure  at  the  fact  that  the  agricultural  la- 
borers were  receiving  higher  wages,  lamented  "  that  at  present 
the  only  result  he  could  discover  from  their  higher  wages  was 
that  a  great  deal  7uore  beer  was  consumed  If  this  was  the 
use  we  were  making  of  this  prosperity,  we  could  hardly  call  it 
a  blessing  for  which  we  had  a  right  or  ground  to  thank  God. 
The  true  prosperity  of  the  nation  consisted  not  so  much  in  the 
ftict  that  the  nation  wms  growing  in  wealth — though  wealth 
was  a  necessary  attribute  of  prosperity — but  tluit  it  was  grow- 
ing in  virtue ;  and  that  there  was  a  more  ecjuable  distribution 
of  comfort,  contentment,  and  the  things  of  this  lower  world." 


m 


rpi 


t  vl 


ys'JWWil'*^'*' 


38 


What  Thrift  Requires. 


[chap.   II. 


In  making  the  preceding  olj.servations,  we  do  not  in  the  least 
advocate  the  formation  of  miserly,  |)enurious  habits ;  for  we 
hate  the  scrub,  the  screw,  the  miser.  All  tluit  we  contend  for 
is,  that  men  should  provide  for  tlie  future  ;  that  they  should 
provide  during  good  times  for  the  bad  times  which  almost 
invariably  follow  them  ;  that  they  should  lay  by  a  store  of 
savings  as  a  breakwater  against  want,  and  make  sure  of  a 
little  fund  which  may  maiutnin  them  in  old  age,  secure  their 
aelf-respect,  and  add  to  their  personal  comfort  and  social  well- 
being.  Thrift  is  not  in  any  way  connected  with  avarice, 
usury,  greed,  or  selfishness.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  very  reverse 
of  these  disgusting  dispositions.  It  means  economy  for  the 
purpose  of  securing  independence.  Thrift  requires  that  money 
should  be  used,  and  ]iot  abused — that  it  should  be  honestly 
earned  and  economically  employed — 

"  Not  for  to  put  it  ill  a  ]ieil<fe, 
Not  for  a  train  attendant^ 
But  for  tlio  fflorioius  i  rivili^ge 
Of  being  Independent." 


•mffi 


5  4 


ri^J 


111: 


L_~ 


.^•1 


\  r,-~TJ- — 


CHAPTER  III. 


I  JI  P  R  O  V  I  D  E  N  C  E  . 

"The  inau  who  has  a  wift;  ami  chihlrcu  haa  given  hostages  to 
Fortune." — Lord  Bacox. 

"  In  all  conditions  and  circnmstanccs,  well-l>eing  is  in  the  power  of 
those  who  liavc  power  over  themselves." — J.  J.  Uurney. 

"Where  is  their  common  sense?     Alas,  what  imprudence!     Early 

marriages  ;  many  cliildren  ;  poor-rates,  and  the  work-house They 

are  I)orn  ;  they  are  wretched  ;  they  die In  no  foreign  country,  of 

far  less  civilization  than  England,  is  there  the  same  improvidence." — 
Lord  Lytton. 

"No  man  oppresses  thee,  O  free  and  independent  franchiser;  but 
does  not  this  stupid  pewter  pot  oppress  thee  V  No  sou  of  Adam  can 
hid  thee  come  or  go,  but  this  absurd  pot  of  heavy- wet  can  and  does. 
Thou  art  the  thrall,  not  of  Cedric  the  Saxon,  l)ut  of  thy  own  brutal 
appetites,  and  this  accursed  dish  of  liipior.  And  thou  pratest  of  thy 
'  liberty,'  thou  entire  blockhead  !  " — Carlvle. 

"  Never  did  any  publike  misery 

Rise  of  it  selt'e  ;  God's  plagues  still  grounded  are 

On  common  staincs  of  our  Humanity  : 

And  to  the  ilamo,  which  ruineth  Mankind, 

Man  gives  the  matter,  or  at  least  gives  windc. " — DANlETiL, 

TT'NGLA.ND  is  one  of  the  richest  countries  in  tlie  world. 
■^  Oiir  n)ercluints  are  enterprising,  our  numufacturers  are 
industrious,  our  laborers  are  hard-working.  There  is  an 
accunuilation  of  wealtli  in  the  country  to  wliich  past  times  can 
otfer  no  |)arallel.  The  Bank  is  gorged  with  gohl.  Tiiere 
never  was  more  food  in  the  eni[)ire  ;  tliere  never  was  more 
money.     There  is  no  (nid  to  our  manufacturing  productions, 


l\  ,M 


I  ■■ 


'v> 


iHy 


'  If!'  ■"■ 
m 

I  :   i 
it 


I 

.       Ill 


■ 


im 


40 


Miiery  and  Wealth. 


[chap.    III. 


for  the  steam-engine  never  tires.  And  yet,  notwithstanding 
all  this  wealth,  there  is  an  enormous  mass  of  poverty.  Close 
alongside  the  "Wealth  of  Nations,  there  gloomily  stalks  the 
Misery  of  Nations — hixiirioiis  ease  resting  upon  a  dark  back- 
ground of  wretchedness. 

Parliamentary  reports  have  again  and  again  revealed  to  us 
the  miseries  endured  by  certain  portions  of  our  working 
population.  They  have  described  the  people  employed  in 
factories,  workshops,  mines,  and  brickfields,  as  well  as  in  the 
pursuits  of  country  life.  We  have  ti'ied  to  grapple  with  the 
evils  of  their  condition  by  legislation,  but  it  seems  to  mock  us. 
Those  who  sink  into  poverty  are  fed,  but  they  remain  paupers. 
Those  who  feed  them  feel  no  compassion  :  and  those  who  are 
fed  return  no  gratitude.  There  is  no  bond  of  sympathy 
between  the  givers  and  the  receivers.  Thus  the  Haves  and 
the  Have-nots,  the  opulent  and  the  indigent,  stand  at  the  two 
extremes  of  the  social  scale,  and  a  wide  gulf  is  tixed  between 
them. 

Among  rude  and  savage  people  the  condition  of  poverty  is 
uniform.  Provided  the  bare  appetites  are  satisfied,  suffering  is 
scarcely  felt.  Where  slavery  exists,  indigence  is  little  known ; 
for  it  is  the  master's  interest  to  keep  the  slave  in  a  condition 
fit  for  labor,  and  the  employer  generally  takes  care  to  supply 
the  animal  wants  of  the  employed.  It  is  only  when  society 
becomes  civilized  and  free,  and  man  enters  into  competition 
with  his  fellows,  that  he  becomes  exposed  to  indigence,  and 
experiences  social  misery.  Where  civilization,  as  in  this 
country,  has  reached  its  highest  point,  and  where  large 
accumulations  of  wealth  have  been  made,  the  misery  of  the 
indigent  classes  is  only  rendered  more  acute  by  the  comfort  and 
luxury  with  which  it  is  placed  in  immediate  contrast. 

Much  of  the  existing  misery  is  caused  by  selfishness — by  the 
greed  to  accumulate  wealth,  on  the  one  hand,  and  by  improvi- 
dence, on  the  other.  Accumulation  of  money  has  become  the 
great  desire  and  passion  of  the  age.  The  wealth  of  nations, 
and  not  the  happiness  of  nations,  is  the  principal  aim.  We 
study  political  economy,  and  let  social  economy  shift  for  itself. 
Regard  for  "  Number  One  "  is  the  prevailing  maxim.     High 


CHAP.    III.] 


The  Uncivilized. 


41 


prortts  are  regarded  as  the  summum  bonum — no  matter  how 
obtained,  or  at  what  saci-ifice.  Money  is  our  god  ;  "  Devil 
take  the  hindmost "  our  motto.  The  spirits  of  darkness  rule 
supreme — 

"  Mammon  has  led  them  on, 
Mammon,  the  least  erect  of  all  the  spirits 
That  fell  from  heaven." 


>t\ 


)'i 


iJi 


With  respect  to  the  poorer  classes — what  has  become  of  them 
in  the  midst  of  our  so  called  civilization?  An  immense  ])ro- 
portion  of  them  remain  entirely  imcivilized.  Though  living  in 
a  Christian  country,  Ciiristianity  has  never  reached  them. 
They  are  as  uncivilized  and  unchristianized  as  the  Trinobantes 
were  at  the  landing  of  Julius  Ca^r-sar,  about  nineteen  hundred 
years  ago.  Yet  these  uncivilized  people  live  in  our  midst. 
St.  James's  and  St.  Giles's  lie  close  together.  In  the  })arks  of 
London  you  may  see  how  gold  is  worshipjied  ;  in  the  East 
End  of  London  you  may  see  to  what  depths  human  misery 
may  fall. 

They  work,  eat,  drink,  and  sleep  :  that  constitutes  tlieir  life. 
They  think  nothing  of  providing  for  to-morrow,  or  for  next 
week,  or  for  next  year.  They  abandon  themselves  to  their 
sensual  appetites,  and  make  no  provision  whatever  for  the 
future.  The  thought  of  adversity,  or  of  coming  sorrow,  or  of 
the  helplessness  that  comes  with  years  and  sickness,  never 
crosses  their  minds.  In  these  respects  they  resemble  the 
savage  tribes,  who  know  no  better,  and  do  no  worse.  Ijike 
the  North  American  Indians,  they  debase  themselves  by  the 
vices  which  accompany  civilization,  but  make  no  use  whatever 
of  its  benefits  and  advantages. 

Captain  Parry  found  the  Esquimaux  near  the  North  Pole  as 
uncivilized  as  the  miserable  creatures  who  inhabit  the  dens  of 
our  great  cities.  They  were,  of  course,  improvident ;  for,  like 
savages  generally,  they  never  save.  They  were  always  either 
feasting  or  famished.  When  they  found  a  quantity  of  whale's 
blubber,  they  would  eat  as  much  of  it  as  they  could,  and  hide 
the  rest.  Yet  tlieir  improvidence  gave  them  no  concern. 
Even    when   they   had    been    without   food   or   fuel   for  days 


1'   ' 


lu 


inll 


Hi  i:  S 


I"   I 


42 


The  East  End. 


[chap.   III. 


together,  tliey  would  1)0  as  gay  hikI  good  liinuored  as  usual. 
Thev  never  thouglit  of  how  tliev  shouM  be  in-ovided  for 
to-morrow.  Saving  for  the  future  forms  no  part  of  the  navage 
economy. 

An)or,g  civilized  peoples,  cold  is  said  to  be  the  parent  of 
frugality.  Thus  the  JNorthern  nations  of  ]^'urope  owe  a  j)or- 
tion  of  their  prosperity  to  the  rigor  of  tlieir  climate.  Cold 
makes  them  save  during  summer,  to  })rovide  food,  coal,  and 
clothing  during  winter.  It  encourages  houso-building  and 
house-keeping.  Hence  Germany  is  more  industrious  than 
Sicily  ;  Holland  and  Belgium  than  Andalusia  ;  North  America 
and  Canada  than  Mexico. 

When  the  late  Edward  Denison,  M.P.  for  Newark,  with 
unexampled  self-denial,  gave  up  a  large  jiortion  of  his  time  and 
labor  to  reclaim  the  comparatively  uncivilized  })oj)ulation  of 
the  East  End  of  London,  the  lirst  thing  he  <Ud  was  to  erect  an 
iron  church  of  two  stories,  the  lower  part  of  which  was  used 
as  a  school  and  lecture  room,  and  also  as  a  club  where  men 
and  boys  might  read,  ])lay  games,  and  do  anything  else  that 
might  keep  them  out  of  the  drinking-houses.  "  What  is  so 
liad  in  this  <p)arter,"  said  Mr.  Denison,  "is  the  habitual  condi- 
tion of  this  mass  of  humanity — its  uniform  mean  level  ;  the 
absence  of  anything  more  civilizing  than  a  grinding  organ 
to  raise  the  ideas  beyond  the  daily  bread  and  beer  ;  the  \itter 
want  of  education  ;  the  comjjlete  indifference  to  religion  ;  with 
the  fruits  of  all  tliis---imi)rovidence,  dirt,  and  their  secondaries, 

crime  and  disease There  is  no  one  to  give  a  push  to 

struggling  emn-gy,  to  guide  aspiring  intelligence,  or  to  break 

Tlie  mission  clergy- 


•getic 


man,   in 


the  fall  of  unavoidable  misfortune, 
man,"  he  goes  on  to  say,  "is  a  sensil)le,  enc 
whoso  hands  the  work  of  civilizmq  the  p<:oj>le  is  making  as 
much  progress  as  can  be  expected.  But  )iu»  <t  of  his  energy  is 
taken  up  in  serving  tables,  nor  can  any  great  advance  be  made 
while  every  nerve  has  to  be  strained  to  keep  the  people  from 
absolute  starvation.  And  this  is  what  ha))pe]is  every  winter. 
....  What  a  monstrous  thing  it  is  that  in  theiichest  country 
in  tlie  world  large  masses  of  the  population  should  be  con- 
demned annually,  by  a  natural  operation  of  nature,  to  star- 


CHAP.    III.] 


Edward  Denison. 


45 


vatioii  and  iloutli.  It  is  all  vorv  well  to  sav,  how  can  it  be 
]u'l[)0(l  ]  Wliy,  it  was  not  so  in  our  grandfather's  time. 
Behind  ns  they  were  in  many  ways,  but  they  were  not  met 
every  winter  with  tin;  sncctaele  of  .-tarvini;  thousands.  The 
fact  is,  we  have  accejited  the  marvelous  prosperity  which 
has  in  thf;  lust  twenty  yf;;ns  l)een  granted  us,  without  reflecting 
on  the  conditions  attached  to  it,  and  without  nerving  ourselves 
to  the  exertion  and  the  sacrifices  which  their  fulfillment 
demands." 

And  yet  INFr.  Denison  clearly  saw  that  if  the  people  were 
sufficiently  educated,  and  ta;\<;ht  to  practice  the  virtue  of 
Thrift,  much  of  this  misery  might  be  jn-evented.  "The 
people,"  Ik;  elsewhere  says,  "  create  their  destitution  and  their 
disease.  J*iol)ably  there  are  hardly  any  of  the  most  needy  who, 
if  they  had  been  only  moderutely  frugal  and  provident,  could 
not  have  jilaced  themselves  in  a  position  to  tide  over  the 
occasional  months  of  want  of  woik,  or  of  sickness,  which  there 

always  must  be 1    do    not  underrate  the  diihculty  of 

laying  by  out  of  weekly  earnings,  but  I  say  it  can  be  done. 
A  dock-lal)()rer,  while  a  young,  strong,  umnarried  man,  could 
lay  by  half  his  wf^ekly  wages,  and  such  men  are  almost  sure  of 
constant  e]npl()yment." 

After  showing  how  married  men  might  also  save,  Mr. 
Denison  goes  on  to  say,  "  Saving  is  within  the  reach  of  nearly 
every  n:an,  even  if  (juite  at  the  bottom  of  the  tree;  but  if 
it  were  of  anything  like  common  occurrence,  the  destitution 
and  disease  of  this  city  would  be  kept  within  cpiite  manageable 
limits.  And  this  will  take  jdace.  I  may  not  live  to  see 
it,  but  will  be  within  two  generations.  For,  unfortunately, 
this  amount  of  ciiangi;  may  be  elVected  without  the  least 
iin]trovement  in  the  sjnriiual  condition  of  the  })eople.  Good 
laws,  energetically  enforced,  with  compulsory  education,  sup- 
plemented by  gratuitous  individual  exertion  (^which  will  then 
have  a  much  reduced  field  and  much  fairer  prospects),  will 
ceitaiidy  succeed  in  giving  the  mass  of  the  people  so  much 
light  as  will  gcntirally  guide  them  into  so  much  industry 
and  morality  as  is  clearly  conducive  to  their  bodily  ease 
and  advancement  in  life." 


I    >  ', 


11 


■K-'.Tr'i-.XT'^^^TT**^-^"*  '"^ 


\'mi\ 


44 


Thrift  in  Guernsey. 


[CHAI^.  ill. 


The  difference  in  tliriftiness  between  the  English  work- 
people and  the  inhabitants  of  Giiernsey  is  thus  referred  to  by 
Mr.  Denison  :  *'  The  difference  between  poverty  and  pauperism 
is  brought  home  to  us  very  strongly  by  what  I  see  here.  In 
England  we  have  people  faring  siunptuously  while  they  are 
getting  good  wages,  and  coming  on  the  parish  as  paupers  the 
moment  those  wages  are  suspended.  Here,  people  are  never 
dependent  on  any  support  but  their  own  ;  but  they  live,  of 
their  own  free-will,  in  a  style  of  frugality  which  a  landlord 
would  be  hooted  at  for  suggesting  to  his  cottagers.  We  pity 
Hodge,  reduced  to  bacon  and  greens,  and  to  meat  only  once 
a  week.  The  principal  meal  of  a  Guernsey  farmer  consists  of 
soupe  ct  la  graisse,  which  is,  being  interpreted,  cabbage  and 
])ease  stewed  with  a  little  dripping.  Tiiis  is  the  daily  dinner  of 
men  who  o^on  perhaps  three  or  four  cows,  a  pig  or  two,  and 
poultry.  But  the  produce  and  the  flesh  of  these  creatures  they 
sell  in  the  market,  investing  their  gains  in  extension  of  land 
or  stock,  or  in  "  quarters,"  that  is,  "  rent-charges  on  land, 
certificates  of  which  are  readily  bought  and  sold  in  the 
market." 

Mr.  Denison  died  before  ho  could  accomplish  much.  He 
was  only  able  to  make  a  l»egi lining.  The  misery,  arising  from 
improvidence,  which  he  so  deeply  deplored,  still  exists,  and  is 
even  more  widely  spread.  It  is  not  merely  th,e  artisan  who 
spends  all  that  he  earns,  but  the  classes  above  him,  who  can 
not  plead  the  same  excuse  of  ignorance.  Many  of  what  are 
called  the  "upper"  classes  are  no  more  excusable  than  the 
"  lower."  They  waste  their  means  on  kee})ing  up  appearances, 
and  in  feeding  folly,  dissipation,  and  vice. 

No  one  can  reproach  the  English  workman  with  want  of 
industry.  He  works  harder  and  more  skilfully  than  the  work- 
man of  any  other  country  ;  and  he  might  bo  more  couifoi table 
and  independent  in  his  circumstances,  werci  he  as  prudent  an 
he  is  laborious.  But  improvidence  is  unhappily  the  defect  of 
tlio  class.  Even  the  best-paid  English  workmen,  though 
earning  more  money  than  the  average  of  professional  men,  still 
for  the  most  part  belong  to  the;  ])Oor(!i'  classes  because  of  their 
thoughtlessness.     In  prosperous  tinu^4  they  are  not  accustomed 


CHAP.  IV.] 


Social  Degradation. 


45 


to  make  })rovision  for  adverse  times  ;  and  when  a  period  of 
social  pressure  occurs,  they  are  rarely  found  more  than  a  few 
weeks  ahead  of  ])ositive  want. 

Hence  the  skilled  workman,  unless  trained  in  good  habits, 
may  exhibit  no  higher  a  life  than  that  of  the  mere  animal;  and 
the  earning  of  increased  wages  will  only  furnish  him  with  in- 
creased means  for  indulging  in  the  gratification  of  his  grosser 
appetites.  Mr.  Chadwick  says  that,  during  the  cotton  famine, 
"families  trooped  into  the  relief  rooms  in  the  most  abject  con- 
dition, whose  previoTis  aggregate  wages  exceeded  the  income  of 
many  curates — as  had  many  of  the  individual  workmen."  In 
a  time  of  prosperity  working-people  feast,  and  in  a  time  of 
adversity  they  "  clem."  Their  earnings,  to  use  their  own 
phrase,  "  come  in  at  the  spigot  and  go  out  at  the  bung-hole." 
When  prosperity  comes  to  an  end,  and  they  ai'e  paid  off,  they 
rely  upon  chance  anti  pro^  idence — the  providence  of  tho 
Improvident ! 

Though  trade  has  invariably  its  cycles  of  good  and  bad 
years,  like  the  lean  and  fat  kine  in  Pharaoh's  dream — its 
bursts  of  prosperity,  followed  by  glut,  panic,  and  distress — • 
the  thoughtless  and  spendthi'ift  take  no  heed  of  experience, 
and  make  no  better  provision  for  the  future.  Improvidence 
aeems  to  be  one  of  the  most  incorrigible  of  faults.  "  There 
are  whole  neighborhoods  in  the  manufticturing  districts,"  says 
Mr.  Baker,  in  a  recent  re})ort,  "  where  not  only  are  there  no 
savings  worth  mentioning,  but  where,  within  a  fortnight  of 
being  out  of  work,  the  workers  thoni.ielves  "re  starving  for 
want  of  the  merest  necessaries."  Not,  a  strike  takes  place, 
but  immediately  the  workmen  are  [>lunged  into  destitution  j 
tlieir  furniture  and  watches  are  Bent  to  the  pawn-shoj),  while 
deplorable  appeals  are  nnido  to  tl\e  charitable,  and  numerous 
families  are  cast  upon  the  poor-rates. 

This  habitual  improvidence — though  of  course  there  are 
many  admirable  exceptions — is  the  real  cause  of  the  social 
degradation  of  thf  tisan.  This,  too,  is  the  prolific  source 
of  social  misery.  J3ut  the  misery  is  entirely  the  result  of 
human  ignoranc(^  and  self-indulgence.  For  though  the  Crt;  io-' 
has  ordained  poviu'ty,  tho  poor  ai'e  not  necessarily,  uor  as  Oi 
3 


51' 


m 


1,  i 


46 


Fatalism  of  Improvideme. 


[chap.  III. 


m\\  I 


in 


matter  of  fact,  the  miserable.  Misery  is  the  result  of  moral 
causes — most  commonly  of  individual  vice  and  improvidence. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Norris,  in  speaking  of  the  habits  of  the  highly 
paid  miners  and  iron-workers  of  South  Staffordshire,  says, 
"  Improvidence  is  too  tame  a  word  for  it — it  is  recklessness  ; 
here  young  and  old,  married  and  unmarried,  are  uniformly 
and  almost  avowedly  self-indulgent  spendthrifts.  One  sees 
this  reckless  character  marring  and  vitiating  the  nobler  traits 
of  their  nature.  Their  gallantry  in  the  face  of  danger  is 
akin  to  foolhardiness ;  their  power  of  intense  labor  is  seldom 
exerted  except  to  compensate  for  time  lost  in  idleness  and 
revelry;  their  readiness  to  make  'gatherings*  for  their  sick 
and  married  comrades  seems  only  to  obviate  the  necessity  of 
previous  saving ;  thoir  very  creed — and,  after  their  sort,  they 
are  a  curiously  devotional  people,  holding  frequent  prayer- 
meetings  in  the  pits — often  degenerates  into  fanatical  fatalism. 
But  it  is  seen  far  more  painfully  and  unmistakably  in  the 
alternate  ))lcthora  and  destitution  between  which,  from  year's 
end  to  year's  end,  the  whole  population  seems  to  oscillate. 
Tht5  prodigal  revelry  of  the  reckoning  night,  the  drunkenness 
of  Sunday,  the  refusal  to  work  on  Monday  and  perhaps  Tues- 
day, and  then  thq  untidiness  of  their  homes  toward  the  latter 
part  of  the  two  or  throe  weeks  which  intervene  before  the 
next  i)ay-(]ay  ;  thoir  children  kept  from  school,  their  wives  and 
daugliters  on  the  pit-bank,  tbeir  furniture  in  the  pawn-shop ; 
the  crowded  and  mh-y  lanes  in  w^hich  they  live,  their  houses 
often  cnick(!d  from  to})  to  bottom  by  the  *crowning-in '  of  the 
grour.d,  without  drainage,  or  ventilation,  or  duo  8uj)ply  of 
water — such  a  state  of  tilings  as  this,  co-existing  with  earnings 
which  might  insure  coujfort  and  even  pro8})erity,  seems  to 
prove  that  no  legislation  can  cure  the  evil." 

We  have  certainly  had  numerous  **  reforms."  We  )uive  had 
household  suU'rag*;,  and  vote  by  ballot.  W(5  have  relieved  the 
working-chiHsts  of  taxes  on  corn,  cattle,  coffee,  sugar,  and  pro- 
visions generally ;  and  iiMposed  a  considerable  proj)ortion  of 
the  taxes  fronj  which  they  have  been  relieved  on  the  middle 
and  up])ei'  ranks.  Yet  these  measures  liave  produced  but 
little  improvement  in   tlu;    condition    of  the  working-people. 


S 


T^irwr" 


CHAP.  III.] 


Self-taxation. 


47 


They  have  not  applied  tlie  principle  of  reform  to  themselves. 
They  have  not  begun  at  home.  Yet  the  end  of  all  reform  is 
the  improvement  of  the  individual.  Everything  that  is  wrong 
in  society  results  from  that  which  is  wrong  in  the  individual. 
When  men  are  bad,  society  is  bad. 

Franklin,  witli  his  shrewd  common  sense,  observed :  "  The 
taxes  are  indeed  very  heavy  ;  find  if  those  laid  on  by  the 
Government  were  the  only  ones  we  had  to  pay,  we  might  more 
easily  discharge  them ;  but  we  have  many  others,  and  much 
more  grievous  to  some  of  us.  We  are  taxed  (juite  as  much 
by  our  idleness,  three  times  as  mucli  by  our  pride,  and  four 
times  aj;>  ..rich  by  our  folly;  and  from  these  taxes  the  com- 
missioners uinot  ease  or  deliver  us  by  allowing  an  abate- 
ment." 

Lord  John  Russell  once  made  a  similar  statement  to  a  body 
of  working-men  wlio  waited  upon  him  for  the  purpose  of  ask- 
ing relief  from  taxation.  "  You  complaiM  of  the  taxes,"  he 
said;  "but  think  of  how  you  tax  yourselves.  Yon  consume 
about  fifty  millions  yearly  in  drink.  Is  there  any  Government 
that  would  dare  to  tax  you  to  that  extent?  You  have  it  in 
your  own  power  greatly  to  reduce  the  taxes,  and  that  without 
in  any  wny  appealing  to  us." 

Complaining  that  the  laws  are  bad,  and  that  the  taxes  are 
heavy,  will  not  meni'  matters.  Aristocratic  government,  and 
the  tyranny  of  niai,Rv.y,  are  nothing  like  so  injurious  as  the 
tyranny  of  viciou'  af)iu!i.ites.  Men  are  easily  led  away  by  the 
j)arade  of  their  rii."-'' ies-',  which  are,  for  the  most  part,  vobin- 
tary  and  self-impo!>3((. — the  results  of  idleiu\s.j,  thriftlessness, 
intem})eranoe,  and  mis.,  iv  luot.  To  blame  others  for  what  we 
sutler  is  always  more  agrticable  to  our  Holf-i)rid(;  than  to  blame 
ourselves.  i3ut  it  is  perfectly  clear  that  peoph;  who  live  from 
(lay  to  day  without  plan,  without  rule,  without  forethought— 
who  spend  all  their  earnings,  without  saving  anything  for  the 
future — are  jtreparing  beforehand  for  iiuivitabh^  distn^ss.  To 
prpvide  only  for  *he  present  is  the  sure  means  of  sacrificing  the 
future.  What  ;..  pe  can  tluu-e  be  Ibr  a  people  whose  only 
iimxim  seems  ti*  -.*.   "Lot  ua  oat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  wo 

iiicr' 


>-!:'  .:'! 


r  :i 


n 

'W 

;■'!•!:•, 

'll 

\r:  U:[\ 

11 

48 


A  Gratifying  Contrast. 


[chap.  til. 


All  this  may  seem  very  hopeless ;  yet  it  is  not  entirely  so. 
The  large  earnings  of  the  working-classes  is  an  important  point 
to  start  with.  The  gradual  diffusion  of  education  will  help 
them  to  use,  and  not  abuse,  their  means  of  comfortable  living. 
The  more  extended  knowledge  of  the  uses  of  economy,  frugality, 
and  thrift,  will  help  them  to  spend  their  lives  more  soberly, 
virtuoiisly,  and  religiously.  Mr.  Donison  was  of  opinion  that 
much  of  this  might  be  accomplished  "within  two  generations." 
Social  improvement  is  always  very  slow.  How  extremely 
tardy  i.i*,^  been  the  ]^rogreSi  rf  civilization !  How  gradually 
have  its  humanizing  iutluenc*  ^  ated  in  elevating  the  mass 

of  the  people  !  It  requires  the  -.e  of  generations  before  its 
effects  can  be  so  ujuch  as  discerned,  j  for  a  generation  is  but  as 
a  day  in  the  history  of  civilization.  It  has  cost  most  nations 
ages  of  war,  before  they  could  conquer  their  right  of  existence 
as  nations.  It  took  four  centuries  of  persecution  and  martyr- 
doms to  establish  Christanity,  and  two  centuries  of  civil  wars 
to  establish  the  Reformation.  Tlie  emancipation  of  the  bonds- 
men from  feudal  slavery  was  only  reach' ;d  through  long  ages  of 
misery.  From  the  (hiys  in  which  our  British  progenitci-s 
rushed  to  the  battle  in  their  war-])aint — or  those  more  recent 
times  when  the  whole  of  the  laboring  people  were  villains  and 
serfs,  bought  and  sold  with  the  soil  which  they  tilled — to  the 
times  in  which  wo  now  live,  how  wide  the  difference,  how 
gratifying  the  contrast !  Sur(^ly  it  ought  not  to  be  so  difficult 
to  put  an  end  to  the  Satanic  intluoncos  of  thriftlessness,  drun- 
kenness, and  improvidence! 


<#^?f^^^--^^^ 


^ 


l-;,xO:)-f 


■^\ 


"Self- 
own  cist( 
to  get  his 
oommitte 

"Love, 
niay'st  fc 
mind  :  it 

"The 
a  thief. " 


I 


-'■    not 

receipt 

sional  m{ 

That  t] 

publishej 

rnentary 

owner,   oi 

Jiigli  wagf 

FamiliJ 

earn  oveil 

('hihh'on  ([ 

about  a  hf 

larger  tlul 

than  the  I 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MEANS     OF     SAVING. 

"Self-reliance  and  self-denial  will  teach  a  man  to  drink  out  of  his 
own  cistern,  and  eat  his  own  sweet  bread,  and  to  learn  and  labor  truly 
to  get  his  own  living,  and  carefully  to  save  and  expend  the  good  things 
committed  to  his  trust." — Lord  Bacon. 

"  Love,  therefore,  labor  :  if  thou  should'st  not  want  it  for  food,  thou 
niay'st  for  physic.  It  ia  wholesome  to  the  body,  and  good  for  the 
mind  :  it  prevents  the  fruit  of  idleness." — William  Penn. 

"The  parent  who  does  not  teach  his  child  a  trade,  teaches  him  to  be 
a  thief." — Brahviinical  Scrijduns. 

rpHOSE  who  say  that  "it  can't  bo  dono"  are  probably 
*-  not  aware  that  many  of  tlie  woiking-classes  are  in  the 
receipt  of  incomes  considerably  larger  than  those  of  profes- 
sional men. 

That  this  is  the  case,  is  not  by  any  means  a  secret.  It  is 
published  in  blue-books,  it  is  giv«Mi  in  evidence  before  parlia- 
mentary committees,  it  is  re[»ortnd  in  newspapers.  Any  coal- 
owner,  or  iron-master,  or  ootton-spinner  will  toll  you  of  the 
high  wages  that  he  pays  to  his  work-^people. 

Families  employed  in  ho  cotton  manufacture  are  able  to 
earn  over  three  pounds  a  week,  according  to  tho  number  of 
children  emph)yed.  TiuMr  annual  incomes  will  thus  amount  to 
about  a  hundred  and  fifty  jwuTids  a  year — which  is  considerably 
larger  than  tho  incomes  of  many  professional  men — higher 
than  tho  average  of  country  surgeons,  higher  than  tho  average 


'>]  i 


\:-.^ 


50 


Earnings  of  Ojieratives. 


[CHA.P.  IV. 


m\\  i!9i 


of  the  clergy  and  ministers  of  all  denominations,  higher  than  the 
average  of  the  teachers  of  common  schools,  and  probably  higher 
than  the  average  income  of  the  middle  classes  of  the  United 
Kingdom  generally. 

An  employer  at  Blackburn  informs  us  that  many  persons 
earn  upward  of  five  pounds  a  week — or  equal  to  an  average 
income  of  two  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  a  year.  Such  families, 
"  ought  not  to  expend  more  than  three  pounds  weekly.  The 
rest  should  be  saved.  But  most  of  them,  after  feeding  and 
clothing  themselves,  spend  tie  rest  in  drink  and  dissipation." 

Tiie  wages  are  similar  in  the  Burnley  district,  where  food, 
drink,  and  dress  absorb  tlie  greater  part  of  the  work-people's 
earnings.  In  this,  as  in  other  foctory  districts,  "the  practice 
of  young  persons  (mill-workers)  boarding  with  their  parents  is 
prevalent,  and  is  very  detrimental  to  parental  authority." 
Another  reporter  says,  ■' Wfi^^js  are  increasing:  as  there  is 
more  money^  and  more  time  to  sper.d  it  in,  sobriety  is  not  on 
the  increase,  especially  among  females." 

The  operatives  employed  in  the  woollen  manufacture  receive 
about  forty  shillings  a  week,  and  some  as  much  as  sixty, 
besides  the  amount  earned  by  their  children. 

A  good  mechanic  in  an  engine-shop  makes  from  thirty-five 
to  forty-five  shillings  a  week,  and  some  mechanics  make  much 
larger  wages.  Multiply  these  figures,  and  it  will  be  found 
that  they  amount  to  an  annual  income  of  from  a  hundred  to  a 
hundred  and  twenty  pounds  a  year. 

But  the  colliers  and  iron-workers  are  paid  much  higher 
wages.  One  of  the  largest  iron-masters  recently  published  in 
the  newspapers  the  names  of  certain  colliers  in  his  employment 
who  were  receiving  from  four  to  five  j)Ounds  a  week— or  equal 
to  an  annual  income  of  from  two  hundred  to  two  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  a  year. 

Iron-workers  are  paid  a  still  higher  rate  of  wages.  A 
plate-roller  easilj'^  makes  three  hundred  a  year.  The 
rollers  in  rail-mills  often  make  much  more.  In  busy  times 
they  have  made  as  much  as  from  seven  to  ten  guineas  a  week, 
or  ecpial  to  from  three  to  five  hundred  a  year.  But,  like  the 
workers  in  cotton-mills,  tiie  iron- workers  are  often  helped  by 


high 


'J  .,. 


A 

Tho 
lilies 

B  the 


CHAP.  IV.J 


Colliers  and  Iron-vmrkers. 


51 


their  sons,  who  are  also  paid  high  wages.  Thus,  the  under- 
hands  are  usually  boys  from  fourteen  years  of  age  and  upward, 
who  earn  about  nineteen  shillings  a  week;  and  the  helpers  are 
boys  of  under  fourteen,  who  earn  about  nine  shillings  a  week. 

These  earnings  are  far  above  the  average  incomes  of  the 
professional  classes.  The  rail-rollers  are  able  to  earn  a  rate  of 
pay  equal  to  that  of  lieutenant-colonels  in  her  majesty's  Foot- 
guards;  plate-rollers,  equal  to  that  of  majors  of  Foot;  and 
roughers,  equal  to  that  of  lieutenants  and  adjutants. 

Goldsmith  spoke  of  the  country  curate  as  '*  passing  rich  with 
forty  pounds  a  year."  The  incomes  of  curates  have  certainly 
increased  since  the  time  when  Goldsmith  wrote,  but  nothing 
like  the  incomes  of  skilled  and  unskilled  workmen.  If  curates 
merely  worked  for  money,  they  would  certainly  change  their 
vocation,  and  become  colliers  and  iron-workers. 

When  the  author  visited  Renfrewshire  a  few  years  ago,  the 
colliers  were  earning  from  ten  to  fourteen  shillings  a  day. 
According  to  the  ccmmon  saying,  they  were  "  making  money 
like  the  minting-maohine."  To  take  an  instance,  a  father  and 
three  sons  were  earning  sixty  pounds  a  month — or  equal  to  a 
united  income  of  more  than  seven  hundred  pounds  a  year. 
The  father  was  a  sober,  steady,  "  eident"  man.  While  the 
high  wages  lasted,  he  was  the  first  to  enter  tho  pit  in  the 
morning,  and  the  last  Ho  leave  it  at  night.  He  only  lost  five 
days  in  one  year  (1873-'4) — the  loss  being  occasioned  by  fast- 
days  and  holidays.  Believing  that  the  period  of  high  wages 
could  not  last  long,  he  and  his  sons  worked  as  hard  as  they 
could.  They  saved  a  good  deal  of  money,  and  bought  several 
houses;  besides  educating  themselves  to  occupy  higher  posi- 
tions. 

In  the  same  neighborhood,  another  collier,  with  four  sons, 
was  earning  money  at  about  the  same  rate  per  man ;  that  is, 
about  seventy-five  pounds  a  month,  or  nine  hundred  j>ounds  a 
year.  This  family  bought  five  houses  within  a  year,  and  saved 
a  considerable  sum  besides.  The  last  iiitbruiation  wo  had 
respecting  them  was  that  the  father  had  become  a  contractor  — 
that  he  employed  about  sixty  colliers  and  "  reddsmen,"  and 
was  allowed  so  much  for  every  ton  of  coals  brouglit  to  bank. 


i':!;i' 


mm 


'M 


\ 

t 

■  ^^t 

i 

:iii 

% 

\ 

'■\m 

'     i'»:r'li 

t,  i 


W^'^t 


ii  '  \i 


% 


I-.I- 


I'h 


,:di! 


!Dli;il:i'' 

It;: ' 


i!i 


\m  1 


■i:' 


52 


57ie  Revelers. 


CHAP.  IV.] 


The  sons  were  looking  after  their  father's  interests.  They 
were  all  sober,  diligent,  sensible  men ;  and  took  a  great  dtal 
of  interest  in  the  education  and  improvement  of  the  people  in 
their  neighborhood. 

At  the  same  time  that  these  two  families  of  colliers  were 
doing  so  well,  it  was  very  different  with  the  majority  of  their 
fellow- workmen.  These  only  worked  about  three  days  in  every 
week.  Some  spent  their  earnings  at  the  piiblic-house  ;  others 
took  a  whiskey  "  ploy  "  at  the  sea-side.  For  that  purpose  they 
hired  all  the  gigs,  droskies,  cabs,  or  "  machines,"  about  a  fort- 
night beforehand.  The  results  were  seen,  as  the  successive 
Monday  mornings  came  round.  The  magistrate  sat  in  the 
neighboring  town,  where  a  number  of  men  and  women,  with 
black  eyes  and  broken  heads,  were  brought  before  him  for 
judgment.  Before  the  time  of  high  wages,  the  court-house 
bup-.ness  was  gob  through  in  an  hour :  sometimes  there  was  no 
business  at  all.  But  when  the  wages  were  doubled,  the  magis- 
trate could  scarcely  get  through  the  business  in  a  day.  It 
seemed  as  if  high  wages  meant  more  idleness,  more  whisky, 
and  more  broken  heads  and  faces. 

These  were  doubtless  "  roaring  times  "  for  the  colliers,  who, 
had  they  possessed  the  requisite  self-denial,  might  have  made 
little  fortunes.  Many  of  the  men  who  worked  out  the  coal 
remained  idle  three  or  four  days  in  the  week  ;  while  those  who 
burned  the  coal  were  famished  and  frozen  for  want  of  it.  The 
working-people  who  wore  not  colliers  will  long  remember  that 
period  as  the  time  of  the  coal  famine.  While  it  lasted,  Lord 
ELslio  went  over  to  Tranent— -a  village  in  East  Lothian — to 
address  the  colliers  upon  their  thriftlessness,  their  idleness,  and 
their  attemjited  combinations  to  keep  up  the  j)rice  of  coal. 

He  had  the  moral  courage — a  (piality  much  wanted  in  these 
days — to  tell  his  constituents  some  hard  but  honest  truths. 
He  argued  w'th  them  about  the  coal  famine,  and  their  desire 
to  prolong  ii  They  were  working  three  days  a  week,  and 
idling  the  other  days.  Some  of  them  did  not  do  a  stroke  of 
work  (luring  a  week  or  a  fortnight ;  others  were  taking  about 
a  hundred  bank  holidays  yearly.  But  what  were  they  doing 
with  the  n^oney  thny  earned  ?     Wtu-e  tlusy  saving  it  for  a  rainy 


CHAP.    IV.] 


Lord  ElcJio  and  the  Colliers. 


53 


day ;  or,  when  the  "  roaring  times "  no  longer  existed,  were 
they  preparing  to  fall  back  upon  the  poor-rates  ?  He  found 
that  in  one  case  a  man,  with  his  two  sons,  was  earning  seven 
pounds  in  a  fortnight.  •'  I  should  like,"  he  said,  "  to  see  those 
Scotchmen  who  are  in  the  mining  business  taking  advantage  of 
these  happy  times,  and  endeavoring  by  their  industry  to  rise 
from  their  present  position — to  exercise  self-help,  to  acquire 
property,  and  possibly  to  become  coal-masters  themselves." 

"  It  had  been  said,  in  a  newspaper,  that  a  miner  was  earn- 
ing wages  eijual  to  that  of  a  captain,  and  that  a  mining  boy 
was  earning  wages  equal  to  that  of  a  lieutenant  in  her  majesty's 
service.  I  only  know,"  said  Lord  Elcho,  ''  that  I  have  a  boy 
who,  when  he  first  joined  her  majesty's  service,  was  an  ensign, 
and  that  his  wage,  (to  earn  which,  remember,  he  had,  under 
the  purchase  system,  to  pay  five  hundred  pounds)  was  not  the 
wage  you  are  now  receiving,  but  the  wage  which  you  were 
receiving  in  bad  times — and  that  was  only  five  shillings  a  day." 
It  might  be  said  that  the  collier  risks  his  life  in  earning  his 
wages  ;  but  so  does  the  soldier  ;  and  the  gallant  boy  to  whom 
Lord  Elcho  referred  afterward  lost  his  life  in  tJie  Ashantee 
campaign. 

,  The  times  of  high  wages  did  not  leave  a  very  good  impres- 
sion on  the  public  mind.  Prices  became  higher,  morals  became 
lower,  and  the  work  done  was  badly  done.  There  was  a  con- 
siderable deterio.~'ation  in  the  character  of  British  workmanship. 
We  began  to  rely  too  much  upon  the  foreigner.  Trade  was  to 
a  large  extent  destroyed,  and  an  enormoiis  loss  of  capital  was 
sustained,  both  by  the  workmen  and  by  the  masters.  Lord 
Aberdare  was  of  opinion  that  three  millions  sterling  were  lost 
by  the  workmen  alone,  during  the  recent  strike  in  South  Wales. 
One  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  workmen  were  in  enforced 
idleness  at  once,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds 
were  lost  every  week  in  wages  during  the  time  that  they 
remained  idle. 

What  the  employers  think  of  the  recent  flash  of  "prosperity" 
can  easily  be  imagined.  But  it  may  not  be  nnnecessary  to 
quote  some  of  the  statements  of  correspondents.  A  large 
employer  of  labor  in  South  Lancashire  says,    *'  Drunkenness 


w 


': 


\mv\ 


■!'! 


■It 


mi 


!l, 


W 


1   ;   m 


!«    :l« 


ill 


\mm\ 


^  J  I 


iil 


w 

11 


i;    I;  ii| 

!.'     ■  I 

;,  III 

ui 


ii  ill  I 


54 


High   Wages  and  Drink. 


[chap.    IV.    ■     CHAP. 


increases,  and  personal  violence  is  not  sufficiently  discouraged. 
High  wages  and  household  suffrage  came  upon  the  people  before 
education  had  prepared  them  for  the  change." 

In  a  large  iron- work  near  Newcastle,  where  the  men  were 
paid  the  highest  wages  for  rolling  plates  and  rails,  and  where 
they  were  earning  between  three  and  four  hundred  pounds  a 
year,  the  proprietors  observe,  *•  Except  in  a  few  instances,  we 
are  afraid  that  workmen  and  their  families  spend  most  of  their 
earnings,"  Another  employer  in  South  Staffordshire  says,  "In 
the  majority  of  cases,  the  men  employed  in  the  iron-works 
spend  the  whole  of  their  wages  before  the  end  of  the  following 
week.  There  are,  of  course,  some  exceptions  ;  but  they  are, 
unhappily,  very  few."  Another,  in  South  Wales,  says,  "  As 
to  the  thrifty  habits  of  the  men,  a  small  minority  are  careful 
and  saving  ;  they  generally  invest  their  money  in  cottage  pro- 
perty. But  the  great  majority  of  the  men  spend  their  money 
often  before  they  earn  it,  and  that  in  the  most  reckless  way. 
Large  sums  are  spent  in  drink  :  this  leads  to  idleness  ;  and, 
owing  to  drinking  and  idling,  the  works  are  kept  short  of  men 
until  about  Wednesday  in  each  week,  when  the  greater  part  of 
the  most  idly  disposed  have  become  sobered  down.  Of  course, 
when  wages  are  low,  the  men  work  more  regularly.  There  is 
less  drinking,  and  altogether  the  condition  of  the  place  is 
healthier  in  every  respect,  both  in  a  moral  and  physical 
sense." 

Another  observer  remarks  that  the  miners  of  Bilston  are 
about  six  thousand  in  number,  and  they  spend  more  than  fifty 
thousand  pounds  annually  in  the  purchase  of  ale  and  liquors. 
Their  improvidence  may  be  studied  with  advantage  in  the 
Bilston  market.  No  other  market  is  su[)plied  with  finer  poul- 
try, or,  comparatively  to  the  population,  in  greater  abundance ; 
and  this  is  chiefly,  if  not  entirely,  for  the  consumption  of  the 
laboring  classes — for  the  resident  inhabitants,  not  directly 
associated  with  those  classes,  are  few  in  number.  Sordid  and 
ill-favored  men  may  there  be  seen  buying  on  Saturday  chickens, 
ducks,  and  geese,  which  they  eat  for  supper  ;  and  in  some 
instances  bottled  porter  and  wine.  Yet,  so  little  have  they 
beforehand  in  the  world,  that  if  the  works  were  to  stop,  they 


CHAP.    IV.] 


iSetisual  Indulgence. 


66 


<  )\ 


woukL  begin  -within  a  fortnight  to  pawn  the  little  furniture 
of  their  cottages,  and  their  clothes,  for  subsistence  and  for 
drink. 

Mr.  Chambers,  of  Edinburgh,  in  his  description  of  the 
working-classes  of  Sunderland,  makes  these  remarks  :  **  With 
deep  sorrow  I   mention   that  everywhere  one  tah;  was  told. 

Intemperance  prevails  to  a  large  extent  ;  good  wages  are 
squandered  on  mean  indulgences ;  there  is  little  care  for  the 
morrow,  and  the  work-house  is  the  ultimate  refuge.  One  man, 
a  skilled  worker  in  an  iron-fou:.dry,  was  pointed  out  as  having 
for  years  received  a  wage  of  one  guinea  a  day,  or  six  guineas  a 
week ;  he  had  spent  all,  mostly  in  drink,  and  was  now  reduced 
to  a  lower  department  at  a  pound  a  week." 

Another  illustration  occurs.  A  clerk  at  Blackburn  took  a 
house  for  twenty  pounds  a  year,  and  sublet  the  cellars  under- 
neath to  a  factory  operative  at  a  rental  of  five  poundf;  a  year. 
The  clerk  had  a  wife,  four  children,  and  a  servant ;  the  oper- 
ative had  a  wife  and  five  children.  The  clerk  and  his  family 
were  well-dressed,  their  children  went  to  school,  and  all  went 
to  church  on  Sundays.  The  operative's  family  went,  some  to 
the  factory,  others  to  the  gutter,  but  none  to  school ;  they  were 
ill-dressed,  excepting  on  Sundays,  when  they  obtained  their 
clothes  from  the  pawn-shop.  As  the  Saturdays  came  round, 
tlie  frying-pan  in  the  cellar  was  almost  constantly  at  work 
until  Monday  night ;  and  as  regularly  as  Thursday  arrived,  the 
bundle  of  clothes  was  sent  to  the  |)awn-shop.  Yet  the  income 
of  the  upper-class  family  in  the  higher  part  of  the  house  was  a 
hundred  a  year  ;  and  the  income  of  the  lower-class  family  in 
the  cellar  was  fifty  pounds  more — that  is,  a  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  a  year ! 

An  employer  in  the  same  neighborhood  used  to  say,  **  I  can 
not  aftbrd  lamb,  salmon,  young  ducks  and  green  peas,  new 
potatoes,  strawberries,  and  such-like,  until  after  my  hands  have 
been  consuming  these  delicacies  of  the  season  for  some  three 
or  four  weeks." 

The  intense  selfishness,  thriftlessness,  and  folly  of  these 
highly  paid  operatives  are  scarcely  credible.     Exceptions  are 


'     :MI 


tl:'  \i 


l;     1 


li'l^ 


56 


Indiference  to   Well-hHng. 


[chap.    IV. 


frequently  taken  to  calling  the  working- classes  "  the  lower 
orders ; "  but  "  the  lower  orders  "  they  always  will  be,  so  long 
as  they  indicate  such  sensual  indulgence  and  improvidence.  In 
cases  such  as  these,  improvidence  is  not  only  a  great  sin,  and  a 
feeder  of  sin,  but  it  is  a  great  cruelty.  In  the  case  of  the 
father  of  the  family,  who  has  been  instrumental  in  bringing  a 
number  of  helpless  beings  into  the  Avorld,  it  is  heartless  and 
selfish  in  the  highest  <legree  to  spend  money  on  personal  indul- 
gences such  as  drink,  which  do  the  parent  no  good,  and  the 
mother  and  the  children,  through  the  hereditary  bad  example, 
an  irreparable  amount  of  mischief.  The  father  takes  sick,  is 
thrown  out  of  work,  and  his  children  are  at  once  deprived  of 
the  means  of  subsistence.  The  reckless  ))arent  has  not  even 
taken  the  ])recaution  to  enter  a  provident  or  a  benefit  society ; 
and  while  he  is  sick,  his  wife  and  children  are  suffering  the 
pangs  of  hunger.  Or,  he  dies  ;  and  the  poor  creatures  are 
thrown  upon  the  charity  of  strangers,  or  on  the  miserable 
pittance  wrung  from  the  poor-rates. 

It  would  seem  to  be  of  little  use  preaching  up  an  extension 
of  rights  to  a  people  who  are  so  sujjinely  indifferent  to  their 
own  well-being — who  are  really  unconcerned  about  their  own 
elevation.  The  friends  of  the  industrious  should  faithfully 
tell  them  that  they  must  exercise  prudence,  economy,  and  self- 
denial,  if  they  would  really  be  raised  from  selfish  debasement, 
and  become  elevated  to  the  dignity  of  thinking  beings.  It  is 
only  by  practising  the  principles  of  self-dependence  that  they 
can  achieve  dignity,  stability,  and  consideration  in  society  ;  or 
that  they  can  acquire  such  influence  and  power  as  to  raise  them 
in  the  scale  of  social  well-being. 

Brown,  the  Oxford  shoe-maker,  was  of  oi)inion  that  "  a  good  I 
mechanic  is  the  most  independent  man  in  the  world."  At 
least,  he  ought  to  be  such.  He  has  always  a  market  for  his 
skill ;  and  if  he  be  ordinarily  diligent,  sober,  and  intelligent, 
he  may  be  useful,  healthy,  and  happy  With  a  thrifty  use  of 
his  means,  he  may,  if  he  earns  from  thirty  to  forty  shillings  a[ 
week,  dress  well,  live  well,  and  educate  his  children  creditably. 
Hugh  Miller  never  had  more  than  twenty-foiir  shillings  a  week  I 


CHAP.    IV.] 


Hugh  Miller's  Experience. 


57 


while  working  as  a  joiirneymaii  stoae-niason,  and  here  is  the 
result  of  his  fifteen  years'  ex})erience  : 

"  Let  me  state,  for  it  seeuis  to  be  very  much  the  fashion 
to  draw  dolorous  pictures  of  the  condition  of  the  laboring 
classes,  that  from  the  close  of  the  first  year  in  which  I  worked 
as  a  journeyman  until  I  took  final  leave  of  the  mallet  and 
(  '  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to  want  a  shilling  :  thai 
1..^  uwo  uncles,  my  grandfather,  and  the  mason  with  whom 
I  served  my  apprenticeship — all  working-men — had  had  a 
similar  experience  ;  and  that  it  was  the  experience  of  my  father 
also,  I  can  not  doubt  that  deserving  mechanics  may,  in  excep- 
tional cases,  be  exposed  to  want ;  but  I  can  as  little  doubt  that 
the  cases  are  exceptional,  and  that  much  of  the  suffering  of  the 
class  is  a  consequence  either  of  improvidence  on  the  part  of 
the  competently  skilled,  or  of  a  course  of  trifling  during  the 
term  of  ai)prenticeship,  quite  as  common  as  trifling  at  school, 
that  always  lands  those  who  indulge  in  it  in  the  hapless  position 
of  the  inferior  workman." 

It  is  most  disheartening  to  find  that  so  many  of  the  highest- 
pa'''  workmen  in  the  kingdom  should  spend  so  large  a  portion 
c*"  ir  earnings  in  their  own  personal  and  sensual  gratification. 
^  si)end   a   third,  and  others   half,  their   entire   earnings 

in  drink.  It  would  be  considered  monstrous,  on  the  part  of 
any  man  whose  lot  has  been  cast  among  the  educated  classes,  to 
exhibit  such  a  degree  of  selfish  indulgence;  and  to  spend  even 
one-fourth  of  his  income  upon  objects  in  which  his  wife  and 
children  have  no  share. 

Mr.  Koebuck  recently  asked,  at  a  public  meeting,  *'  Why 
should  the  man  who  makes  two  or  three  hundred  pounds  a 
year  by  his  mechanical  labor  be  a  rude,  coarse,  brutal  fellow] 
There  is  no  reason  wliv  he  should  be  so.  Why  should  he  not 
be  like  a  gentleman  \  Why  should  not  his  house  bo  like 
my  house  ?  When  I  go  homo  from  my  labor,  what  do  I  find  1 
I  find  a  cheerful  wife — I  find  an  elegant,  educated  woman.  I 
have  a  daughter;  she  ia  the  same.  Why  should  not  you 
find  the  same  happy  influences  at  home  J  I  want  to  know, 
when  the  working-man  comes  from  his  daily  labor  to  his  home, 
why  he  should  not  find  his  table  spread  as  mine  is  spread  ;  why 


■■; 't 


'K^Hl 


-lii 


il-sf 


% 


\S 


t     rai 


I  !• 


6S 


Mr.  Roebuch^s  Advice. 


[chap.  IV.     ■    CHAP.  IV.] 


he  should  not  find  his  wife  well-dressed,  cleanly,  loving,  kind, 
and  his  daughter  the  same  ?  .  .  .  .  We  all  know  that  many 
working-men,  earning  good  wages,  spend  tlieir  money  in  the 
beer-house  and  in  drunkenness,  instead  of  in  clothing  their 
wives  and  families.  Why  should  not  these  men  spend  their 
wages  as  I  spend  my  small  stipend,  in  intellectual  pleasures,  in 
joining  with  my  family  in  intellectual  pursuits  1  Why  should 
not  working-men,  after  enjoying  their  dinners  and  thanking 
God  for  what  they  have  got,  turn  their  attention  to  intellectual 
enjoyments,  instead  of  going  out  to  get  drunk  in  the  nearest 
pot-house  ]  Depend  on  it,  these  things  ought  to  g3  to  the 
heart  of  a  working-man  ;  and  he  is  not  a  friend  to  the  working- 
man  who  talks  to  him  and  makes  him  believe  that  he  is  a  great 
man  in  the  State,  and  who  don't  tell  him  what  are  the  duties  of 
his  position." 

It  is  difficult  to  account  for  the  waste  and  extravagance 
of  working-people.  It  must  be  the  hereditary  remnant  of  the 
original  savage.  It  must  be  a  survival.  The  savage  feasts 
and  drinks  until  everything  is  gone ;  and  then  he  hunts  or 
goes  to  war.  Or  it  may  be  the  survival  of  slavery  in  the  State. 
Slavery  was  one  of  the  first  of  human  institutions.  The 
strong  man  made  the  weak  man  work  for  him.  The  warlike 
race  subdued  the  less  warlike  race,  and  made  them  their  slaves. 
Thus  slavery  existed  from  the  earliest  times.  h\  Greece  and 
Rome  the  fighting  was  done  by  freemen,  the  labor  by  helots 
and  bondsmen.  But  slavery  also  existed  in  the  family.  The 
wife  was  the  slave  of  her  husband,  as  much  as  the  slave  wiiom 
he  bought  in  the  public  market. 

Slavery  long  existed  among  ourselves.  It  existed  when 
Ctesav  landed.  It  existed  in  Saxon  times,  when  the  household 
work  was  done  by  slaves.  The  Saxons  were  notorious  slave- 
dealers,  and  the  Irish  were  their  best  customers.  The  principal 
mart  wa.s  at  Bristol,  from  whence  tlu^  Saxons  exj)()rted  large 
numbers  of  slaves  into  Ireland,  so  that,  according  to  iHsii 
liistoriars,  there  was  scarcely  a  house  in  Ireland  without  a 
]iritish  si  Lve  in  it. 

When  the  Normans  took  possession  of  England,  they  con- 
tinued slavery.     They  uuide  shives  of  the  Saxons  themselves, 


CHAP.  IV.] 


Survival  of  Slavery. 


59 


whom  they  decreed  villains  and  bondsmen.  Domesday-book 
shows  that  the  toll  of  the  market  at  Lewes  in  Sussex  was 
a  })enny  for  a  cow,  and  fourpence  for  a  slave — not  a  serf — 
{adscript as  glebai),  but  an  unconditional  bondsman.  From  that 
time  slavery  continued  in  various  forms.  It  is  recorded  of 
"  the  good  old  times  "  that  it  was  not  till  the  reign  of  Henry 
IV.  (1399-1413)  that  villains,  farmers,  and  mechanics  were 
permitted  by  law  to  pnt  their  children  to  school ;  and  long 
after  that,  they  dare  not  educate  a  son  for  the  Church  without 
a  license  fi'om  the  lord.  The  kings  of  England,  in  their 
contests  with  the  feudal  aristocracy,  gradually  relaxed  the 
slave-laws.  They  granted  charters  founding  royal  burghs  ;  and 
when  the  slaves  fled  into  them,  and  were  able  to  conceal  them- 
selves for  a  y(nir  and  a  day,  they  then  became  freemen  of 
the  burgh,  and  wore  declared  by  law  to  be  free. 

The  last  serfs  in  England  were  emancipated  in  the  reign 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  but  the  last  serfs  in  Scotland  were  not 
emancipated  until  the  reign  of  George  III.,  at  the  end  of  last 
century.  Before  then,  the  coUifu-s  and  salters  belonged  to  the 
soil.  They  were  bouglit  and  sold  with  it.  They  had  no  power 
to  determine  what  their  wages  should  be.  Like  the  slaves 
in  the  Southern  States  of  America,  they  merely  accepted  such 
sustenance  as  was  sutticient  to  maintain  their  muscles  and 
sinews  in  working  order. 

They  were  nev(U'  required  to  save  for  any  purpose,  for  they 
had  no  right  to  their  own  savings.  They  did  not  need  to 
inovide  for  to-morrow  ;  tiieir  masters  jn'ovided  for  them.  The 
habit  of  improvidence  was  thus  formed,  and  it  still  continues. 
The  Scotch  colliers,  who  were  recently  earning  from  ten  to 
fourteen  shillings  a  day,  are  the  grandsons  of  men  who  were 
slaves  down  to  the  end  of  last  century.  The  })reamble  of  an 
Act  [)assed  in  1799  (39th  Geo.  III.,  c.  5G)  runs  as  follows: 
"  Whereas,  before  the  passing  of  an  Act  of  the  fifteenth  of  his 
present  ma.j«>sty,  mai\y  colliers,  coal-bearers,  and  salters  were 
hoand/or  life  to,  titid  tmnsffirable  with,  the  collieries  and  salt- 
wor/cH  lohere  th"!/  inorhed,  but  by  the  said  Act  their  bondage  was 
taken  oil'  and  they  were  declared  to  bn  fr<!e,  notwithstanding 
which  many  colliers  and  coal-bearers  and  salters  still  continue 


I! 


It  I 


!1 

I 


.1.1   s 


m 


'm-,  I 


i 


•'-  \% 


..It 


II  :ir 


I  I'lii'i 


I  iil 

I 'I 


ii  !;■  J 


60 


Extinction  of  Slavery, 


[chap.  IV. 


in  a  state  of  bondage  from  not  having  complied  with  the  provi- 
sions, or  from  having  become  subject  to  the  penalties  of  thai 
act,"  etc.  The  new  Act  then  proceeds  to  declare  them  free 
from  servitude.  The  slaves  formerly  earned  only  enough  to 
keep  them,  and  laid  by  nothing  whatever  for  the  future. 
Hence  we  say  that  the  improvidence  of  the  colliers,  as  of  the 
iron- workers,  is  but  a  survival  of  the  system  of  slavery  in  our 
political  constitution. 

Matters  have  now  become  entirely  different.  The  work- 
man, no  matter  what  his  trade,  is  comparatively  free.  The 
only  slavery  from  which  he  suffers  is  liis  passion  for  drink 
In  this  respect  he  still  resembles  the  Esquimax  and  the  North 
American  Indians.  Wovild  he  be  really  free  ?  Then  he  must 
exercise  the  powers  of  a  free,  responsible  man.  He  must  exer- 
cise self-control  and  self  restraint,  and  sacrifice  present  per- 
sonal gratifications  for  prospective  enjoyments  of  a  much 
higher  kind.  It  is  only  by  self-respect  and  self-control  that 
the  position  of  the  workman  can  be  really  elevated. 

The  working-man  is  now  more  of  a  citizen  than  he  ever  was 
before.  He  is  a  recognized  power,  and  has  been  admitted 
within  the  pale  of  the  constitution.  For  him  mechanics'  insti- 
tutes, newspapers,  benefit  societies,  and  all  the  modern  agencies 
of  civilization,  exist  in  abundance.  He  is  admitted  to  the 
domain  of  intellect ;  and,  from  time  to  time,  great  thinkers, 
artists,  engineers,  philosophers,  and  poets,  rise  up  from  his 
order,  to  proclaim  that  intellect  is  of  no  rank,  and  nobility  of 
no  exclusive  order.  The  influences  of  civilization  are  rousing 
society  to  its  depths ;  and  daily  evidences  are  furnished  of  the 
rise  of  the  industrious  classes  to  a  position  of  social  power. 
Discontent  may,  and  does,  exhibit  itself ;  but  discontent  is  only 
the  necessary  condition  of  iuiprovement ;  for  a  man  will  not 
be  stimulated  to  rise  up  into  a  higher  condition  unless  he  bo 
first  made  dissatisfied  with  the  lower  condition  out  of  which 
ho  has  to  rise.  To  be  satisfied  is  to  repose  ;  while,  to  ho 
rationally  dissatisfied,  is  to  contrive,  to  work,  and  to  act,  with 
an  eyo  to  future  advucoment. 

The  working-classes   very  much  undorestimato  thomsolvoH. 
Though  they    receivo  salaries  or   wages  beyond    the   average 


I  \ 


CHAP.  IV.] 


Earnings  and  Character. 


61 


earnings  of  professional  men,  yet  many  of  them  have  no  other 
thought  than  that  of  living  in  mean  houses,  and  spending  their 
surplus  time  and  money  in  drink.  They  seem  wanting  in  res- 
pect for  themselves  as  well  as  for  their  class.  They  encourage 
the  notion  that  there  is  something  degrading  in  labor ;  than 
which  nothing  can  be  more  false.  Labor  of  all  kinds  is  dig- 
nifying and  honorable.  It  is  the  idler,  above  all  others,  who 
is  undignified  and  dishonorable. 

"Let  the  working-man,"  says  Mr.  Sterling,  "try  to  connect 
his  daily  task,  however  mean,  with  the  highest  thoughts  he 
can  comprehend,  and  he  thereby  secures  the  rightfulness  of  his 
lot,  and  is  raising  his  existence  to  his  utmost  good.  It  is 
because  the  working-man  has  failed  to  do  this,  and  because 
others  have  failed  to  help  him  as  they  ought,  that  the  lot  of 
labor  has  hitherto  been  associated  with  what  is  mean  and 
degrading. 

With  respect  to  renumeration,  the  average  of  skilled 
mechanics  aiid  artisans,  as  we  have  already  said,  are  better 
paid  than  the  average  of  working  curates.  The  working 
engineer  is  better  paid  than  the  ensign  in  a  marching  regi- 
ment. The  foreman  of  any  of  our  lai'ge  engineering  establish- 
ments is  better  paid  than  an  army  surgeon.  The  rail-roller 
receives  over  a  guinea  a  day,  while  an  assistant  navy  surgeon 
receives  fourteen  shillings,  and  after  three  years'  service, 
twenty-one  shillings,  with  rations.  The  majority  of  dissenting 
ministers  are  much  worse  paid  than  the  better  classes  of  skilled 
mechanics  and  artisans  ;  and  the  average  of  clerks  employed  in 
counting-houses  and  warehouses  receive  wages  very  much 
lower. 

Skilled  workmen  might — and,  if  they  had  the  will,  they 
would — occupy  a  social  position  as  high  as  tlu;  educated  olasseH 
we  refer  to.  What  prevents  them  rising?  Merely  becaust; 
they  will  not  use  their  leisure  to  cultivate  their  minds.  They 
have  sufficient  money:  it  is  culture  that  they  want.  They 
n\ight  to  know  that  the  position  of  men  in  society  does  not 
depend  so  much  upon  their  earnings  as  upon  their  chai-ncter 
and  intelligence.  And  it  is  because  they  neglect  tlunr  abun- 
dant opportunities — because  they  are  thriftless  and  Hpeu<l  (lnur 
4 


!       :  it    i 


1:11,; 


■  I      1 


'.:'il:!:! 


■.;:  \\ 


-m 


62 


Ignorance  is  Fotoer. 


[chap.  IV. 


earnings  in  animal  enjoyments,  because  they  refuse  to  culti- 
vate the  highest  parts  of  their  nature — that  they  are  excluded, 
or  rather  self-excluded,  from  those  social  and  other  privileges 
in  which  they  are  entitled  to  take  pari. 

Notwithstanding  their  high  wages,  they  for  the  most  part 
cling  to  the  dress,  the  language,  and  the  manners  of  their  class. 
They  appear,  during  their  leisure  hours,  in  filthy  dresses  and 
unwashed  hands.  No  matter  how  skilled  tlie  workman  may 
be,  he  is  ready  to  sink  his  mind  and  character  to  the  lowest 
level  of  his  co-workers.  Even  the  extra  money  which  he  earns 
by  his  greater  skill  often  contributes  to  demoralize  and  degrade 
him.  And  yet  he  might  dress  as  well,  live  as  well,  and  be 
surrounded  by  the  physical  comforts  and  intellectual  luxuries 
of  professional  men.  But  no !  From  week  'oo  week  his  earn- 
ings are  wasted.  He  does  not  save  a  farthing ;  he  is  a  public- 
house  victim  ;  and  when  work  becomes  slack,  and  his  body 
becomes  diseased,  his  only  refuge  is  the  work-house. 

How  are  these  enormous  evils  to  be  cured  'i  Some  say,  by 
better  education ;  others,  by  moral  and  religious  instruction ; 
others,  by  better  homes,  and  better  wives  and  mothers.  All 
these  influences  will  doubtless  contribute  much  toward  the 
improvement  of  the  people.  One  thing  is  perfectly  clear — that 
an  immense  amount  of  ignorance  j)revails,  and  that  such  igno- 
rance must  be  dissipated  before  the  lower  classes  can  be 
elevated.  Their  whole  character  must  %e  changed,  and  they 
must  be  taught  in  early  life  habits  of  forecast  and  self-control. 

We  often  hear  that  "knowledge  is  power;"  but  we  never 
hear  that  ignorance  is  power.  And  yet  ignorance  has  always 
had  more  j)Ower  in  the  world  thiin  knowledge.  Ignorance 
dominates.  It  is  because  of  the  o\  il  ])ro])ensitie8  of  men  that 
the  costly  repressive  institutions  of  modern  governments  exist. 
Ignorance  arms  men  against  each  other  ;  provides  jails  and 
penitentiaries,  police  and  constabulary.  All  the  physical  force 
of  the  State  is  provided  by  ignorance ;  is  required  by  igno- 
rance ;  is  very  often  wi(ildo(l  by  ignoranoo.  We  may  well 
avow,  then,  that  ignonince  is  j)ow(!r. 

Ignorance   is   j)owerful,     because    knowl(Hlge,    as   yet,    Ims 
obtained  access  only  to  the  minds  of  the  few.     Let  knowledge 


CHAP.  IV.] 


Results  of  Ignorance. 


63 


become  more  generally  diffused ;  let  the  multitude  become 
educated,  thoughtful,  and  wise ;  and  then  knowledge  may- 
obtain  the  ascendancy  over  ignorance.  But  that  time  has  not 
yet  arrived. 

Look  into  the  records  of  crime,  and  yon  will  find  that,  for 
one  man  possessed  of  wisdom  or  knowledge  who  commits  a 
crime,  there  are  a  hundred  ignorant.  Or,  into  the  statistics  of 
drunkenness  and  improvidence  of  all  sorts;  still  ignorance  is 
predominant.  Or,  into  the  annals  of  pauperism ;  there,  again, 
ignorance  is  power. 

The  principal  causes  of  anxiety  in  this  country  are  the 
social  suffering  and  disease  which  proceed  from  ignorance.  To 
ipitigate  these,  we  form  associations,  organize  societies,  spend 
money,  and  labor  in  committees.  But  the  power  of  ignorance 
is  too  great  for  us.  We  almost  despair  while  we  work.  We 
feel  that  much  of  our  effort  is  wasted.  We  are  often  ready  to 
give  up  in  dismay,  and  recoil  from  our  encounter  with  the 
powers  of  evil. 

"How  forcible  are  right  words!"  exclaimed  Job.  Yes! 
But,  with  equal  justice,  he  might  have  said,  '•  How  forcible 
are  wrong  words!"  Tho  wrong  words  have  more  power  with 
ignorant  minds  than  the  right  words.  They  fit  themselves  into 
wrong  heads,  and  prejudiced  heads,  and  empty  heads;  and  have 
power  over  them.  The  right  words  have  often  no  meaning  for 
them,  any  more  thafi  if  they  were  the  words  of  some  dead 
language.  The  wise  man's  thoughts  do  not  reach  the  multi- 
tude, but  fly  over  tlieir  heads.  Only  the  few  as  yet  appre- 
hend them. 

The  physiologist  may  discuss  the  laws  of  health,  and  the 
Board  of  Health  may  write  tracts  for  circulation  among  the 
people;  but  half  the  people  can  not  so  much  as  read;  and  of 
tho  remaining  half,  but  a  very  sniall  proportion  are  in  the 
habit  of  thinking.  Thus  the  laws  of  health  are  disregarded; 
and  when  fever  comes,  it  finds  a  wide  field  to  work  upon :  iu 
undrained  and  filthy  streets  and  1  tuck-yards — noisome,  pesti- 
kMitial  districts — foul,  unoleansed  d\v<>llings — large  j)OpulationH 
ill-supplied  with  clean  water  and  with  pure;  air.  Tlun'e  death 
makes  fell  havoc ;  many  destitute  widows  and  children  have  to 


(IM- 


tl 


l\%- 


l^li 


!.i 


}ii '}' 


Mi 


64 


Fiducabion  not  Enough. 


[chap,  IV. 


be  maintained  out  of  the  poor-rates;  and  then  we  reluctantly 
confess  to  ourselves  that  ignorance  is  power. 

Tlie  only  method  of  abating  this  power  of  ignorance  is  by 
increasing  that  of  knowledge.  As  the  sun  goes  up  the  sky, 
the  darkness  disappears ;  and  the  owl,  the  bat,  and  the  beast 
of  prey  slink  out  of  sight.  Give  the  people  knowledge,  give 
them  better  education,  and  thus  crime  will  Vje  abated — drunk- 
enness, improvidence,  lawlessness,  and  all  the  powers  of  evil, 
will,  to  a  certain  extent,  disappear. 

It  must,  however,  be  admitted  that  education  is  not  enough. 
The  clever  man  may  be  a  clever  rogue;  and  the  cleverer  he 
is,  the  cleverer  rogue  he  will  be.  Education,  therefore,  must 
be  based  upon  religion  and  morality  ;  for  education  by  itself 
will  not  eradicate  vicious  propensities.  Culture  of  intellect 
has  but  little  effect  upon  moral  conduct.  You  may  see  clever, 
educated,  literary  men  with  no  conduct  whatever — wasteful, 
improvident,  drunken  and  vicious.  It  follows,  therefore,  that 
education  must  be  based  upon  the  principles  of  religion  and 
morality. 

Nor  has  the  poverty  of  the  people  so  much  to  do  with  their 
social  degradation  as  is  commonly  supposed.  The  question  is 
essentially  a  moral  one.  If  the  income  of  the  laboring  com- 
munity could  be  suddenly  doi'bled,  their  ha])piness  would  not 
necessarily  be  increased,  for  happiness  does  not  consist  in  money; 
in  fact,  the  increased  wa^es  n.ight  probably  prove  a  curse 
instead  of  a  blessing.  In  the  case  of  many,  there  would  be 
an  increased  consumption  of  drink,  with  the  usual  results — 
an  increase  of  drunken  violence,  and  })robably  an  increase  of 
crime. 

The  late  Mr,  Clay,  chaplain  of  the  Preston  House  of  Cor- 
rection, after  characterizing  drunkenness  as  the  great  sin, 
v)roceeds  :  "  It  still  ristis,  in  savage  hostility,  against  every 
thing  allied  to  order  and  religion  ;  it  still  bairicades  every 
avenue  by  which  truth  and  peace  seek  to  enter  the  poor  man's 

home  and  heart Whatever  may    be  the  predominant 

cause  of  crime,  it  is  very  clear  that  ignorance,  religious  igno- 
rance, is  the  chief  ingredient  in  the  character  of  the  criminal. 


ill  ;it 


ie  of 


iguo- 


uu 


ill. 


CHAP.  IV.] 


Words  of  Sir  Arthur  Helps. 


65 


This  combines  with  the  passion  for  liqnor,  and  offences  num- 
berless are  engendered  by  the  union." 

The  late  Sir  Arthur  Helps,  when  speaking  of  high  and  low 
wages,  and  of  the  means  of  getting  and  spending  money,  thus 
expresses  himself  on  the  subject,  in  his  "  Friends  in  Council:" 

"  My  own  conviction  is,  that  throughout  England  every 
year  there  are  sufficient  wagfes  given,  even  at  the  present  low 
rate,  to  make  the  condition  of  the  laboring  ])Oor  quite  different 
from  what  it  is.  But,  then,  these  wages  must  be  well  spent. 
I  do  not  mean  that  the  poor  could  of  themselves  alone  effect 
this  change;  but  were  they  seconded  by  the  advice,  the  instruc- 
tion, and  the  aid  (not  given  in  money,  or  only  in  money  lent 
to  [)roduce  the  current  interest  of  the  day),  of  the  classes 
above  them,  the  rest  the  poor  might  accomplish  for  themselves. 
And,  iudeed,  all  that  the  rich  could  do  to  elevate  the  poor 
coidd  hardly  equal  the  advantage  that  would  be  gained  by  the 
poor  themselves,  if  they  could  thoroughly  subdue  that  one  vice 
of  drunkenness,  the  most  wasteful  of  all  the  vices. 

"  In  the  living  of  the  poor  (as  indeed  of  all  of  us)  there  are 
two  things  to  l)e  considered;  how  to  get  money,  and  how  to 
spend  it.  Now,  1  believe,  the  experience  of  employers  will 
bear  me  out  in  saying  that  it  is  frecpiently  fouiul  that  the  man 
with  twenty  sliillings  a  week  does  not  live  more  comfortably, 
or  save  more,  than  the  man  wi*ili  fourteen  shillings — the 
families  of  the  two  men  being  the  same  in  niimber  and  general 
circumstances.  ]  t  is  j)robal)le  that  unless  he  have  a  good  deal 
of  prudence  and  thought,  the  man  who  gets  at  all  more  than 
the  average  of  his  class  does  not  know  what  to  tk)  with  it,  or 
only  finds  in  it  a  means  superior  to  that  which  his  fellows  pos- 
sess of  satisfying  his  appetite  for  drinking." 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  (liscouraging  <urcnmstanc(^s 
to  which  we  have  referred,  we  must  bc^lic'vc  that  in  course  of 
time,  as  men's  nature  lieconies  improved  by  rdiieation — secular, 
moral,  and  religious  -they  may  ;mi  induced  to  make  a  blotter 
'ISO  of  their  means,  by  considiu'ations  of  prudences,  forethought, 
iiiid  parental  responsibility.  A  (Jerman  writer  speaks  of 
tlio  <Mlucation  given  to  a  child  as  a  cvfy>?7«^— et|uivalent  to  a 
[store  of  money — placed   at  its   dispos.il  by    the  parent.     The 


'ill 


!     J. 


i  ?! 


;'i 


66 


Divine  Uses  of  Knowledge. 


[chap.  IV. 


CHAP.  I 


child,  when  grov/n  to  manhood,  may  employ  the  education,  as 
he  might  employ  the  money,  badly;  but  that  is  no  argument 
against  the  possession  of  either.  Of  course  the  value  of  educa- 
tion, as  of  money,  chiefly  consists  in  its  proper  use.  And  one 
of  the  advantages  of  knowledf,'e  is,  that  the  very  acquisition  of 
it  tends  to  increase  the  capability  of  using  it  aright ;  which  is 
certainly  not  the  case  with  the  accumulation  of  money. 

Education,  however  obtained,  is  always  an  advantage  to  a 
man.  Even  as^a  means  of  material  advancement,  it  is  worthy 
of  being  sought  after,  not  to  speak  of  its  moral  uses  as  an  elevator 
of  character  and  intelligence.  And  if,  as  Dr.  Lyon  Playfair 
insists,  the  competition  between  industrial  nations  must  before 
long  become  a  competition  mainly  of  intelligence,  it  is  obvious 
that  England  must  make  better  provision  for  the  education  of  its 
industrial  classes,  or  be  prej)ared  to  fall  behind  in  the  indus- 
trial progress  of  nations. 

"  It  would  be  of  little  avail,"  said  Dr.  Brewster,  of  Edin- 
burgh, "  to  the  peace  and  happiness  of  society,  if  the  great 
truths  of  the  material  world  were  confined  to  the  educated  and 
the  wise.  The  organization  of  science  thus  limited  would 
cease  to  be  a  blessing.  Knowledge  secular,  and  knowledge 
divine,  the  double  current  of  the  intellectual  life-blood  of  man, 
must  not  merely  descfind  througli  the  great  arteries  of  the 
social  frame  ;  it  must  be  taken  up  by  the  minutest  capillaries 
before  it  can  nourish  and  purify  society.  Knowledge  is  at 
once  the  manna  and  the  medicine  of  our  moral  being.  Where 
crime  is  the  bane,  knowledge  is  the  antidote.  Society  may 
escape  from  the  pestilence  and  survive  the  famine  ;  but  the 
demon  of  Ignorance,  with  his  grim  adjutants  of  vice  and  riot, 
will  pursue  her  into  her  most  peaceful  haunts,  destroying  our 
institutions,  and  converting  into  a  wilderness  the  paradise  of 
social  and  domestic  life.  The  State  has,  therefore,  a  great  duty 
to  perform.  As  it  punishes  crime,  it  is  bound  to  prevent  it. 
As  it  subjects  us  to  laws,  it  must  teach  us  to  read  them  j  and 
while  it  thus  teaches,  it  must  teach  also  the  ennobling  truths 
wliicli  display  the  }»ower  and  wisdom  of  the  great  Lawgiver, 
thus  ilitt'using  kiu)wledge  while  it  is  extending  education  ;  and 


CHAP.   IV.] 


Public  School  Education. 


67 


thus  making  men  conteutetl  .and  happy  and  humble,  while  it 
makes  them  quiet  and  obedient  subjects." 

A  beginning  has  already  been  made  with  public-school 
education.  Much  still  remains  to  be  done  to  establish  the 
system  throughout  the  empire.  At  present  we  are  unable  to 
judge  of  the  effects  of  what  has  been  done.  But  if  general 
education  accomplish  as  much  for  England  as  it  has  already 
accomplished  for  Germany,  the  character  of  this  country  will 
be  immensely  improved  during  the  next  twenty  years.  Edu- 
cation has  almost  banished  drunkenness  from  Germany ;  and 
had  England  no  drunkenness,  no  thriftlessness,  no  reckless 
multiplication,  our  social  miseries  would  be  comparatively 
trivial. 

We  must,  therefore,  believe  that  as  intelligence  extends 
among  the  working-class,  and  as  a  better  moral  tone  pervades 
them,  there  will  be  a  rapid  improvement  in  their  sober,  thrifty, 
and  provident  habits ;  for  these  f«rm  the  firmest  and  surest 
foundations  for  social  advancement.  There  is  a  growing 
desire,  on  the  part  of  the  more  advanced  minds  in  society,  to 
see  the  working-men  take  up  their  right  position.  They  who 
do  society's  work — who  produce,  under  the  direction  of  the 
most  intelligent  of  their  number,  the  wealth  of  the  nation — 
are  entitled  to  a  much  higher  place  than  they  have  yet  assumed. 
We  believe  in  this  "  good  time  coming  "  for  working  men  and 
women ;  when  an  atmosphere  of  intelligence  shall  pervade 
them ;  when  they  will  prove  themselves  as  enlightened,  polite, 
and  independent  as  the  other  classes  of  society.  And,  as  the 
th'st  and  surest  step  toward  this  consummation,  we  counsel 
them  to  PROVIDE — to  provide  for  the  future  as  well  as  for  the 
ju'esent ;  to  provide,  in  times  of  youth  and  plenty,  against  the 
times  of  adversity,  misfortune,  and  old  age. 

*'  If  any  one  intends  to  improve  his  condition,"  said  the  late 
William  Felkin,  Mayor  of  Nottingham,  himself  originally  a 
working-man,  "  he  must  earn  all  he  can,  spend  as  little  as  he  can, 
and  make  what  he  does  spend  bring  him  and  his  family  all  the 
real  enjoyment  he  can.  The  first  saving  which  a  working-man 
makes  out  of  his  earnings  is  the  first  step ;  and  because  it  is 
tlio  first,  tht^  most  important  step  towar<l  true  iiulopondenco. 


^  I 


i! 


H 


f  'I'  I 


i  -a! 


f.i'i 


\M':^^ 


i 

1  ^  ■.  I' 


68 


Words  of  William  Felkin. 


[ 


CHAP.    IT. 


Now,  independence  is  as  practicable  in  the  case  of  an  indus- 
trious and  economic,  though  originally  poor,  workman,  as  in 
that  of  the  tradesman  or  merchant — and  is  as  great  and 
estimable  a  blessing.  The  same  process  may  be  attended  to — 
that  is,  the  entire  expenditure  being  kept  below  the  clear 
income,  all  contingent  claims  being  carefully  considered  and 
provided  for,  and  the  surplus  held  sacred,  to  be  employed  for 
those  purposes,  and  tliose  only,  which  duty  or  conscience  may 
point  out  as  important  or  desirable.  This  requires  a  course  of 
laborious  exertion  and  strict  economy,  a  little  foresight,  and 
some  privation.  But  this  is  only  what  is  common  to  all 
desirable  objects.  And  inasmuch  as  I  know  what  it  is  to  labor 
with  the  hands  long  hours,  and  for  small  wages,  as  well  as  any 
workman  to  whom  I  address  myself,  and  to  practise  self-denial 
withal,  I  am  emboldened  to  declare  from  experience  that  the 
gain  of  independence,  or  rather  self-dependence,  for  which  I 
plead,  is  worth  infinitely  more  than  all  the  cost  of  its  attain- 
ment ;  and,  moreover,  that  to  attain  it  in  a  greater  or  le&s 
degree,  according  to  circumstances,  is  within  the  power  of 
by  far  the  greater  number  of  skilled  workmen  engaged  in  our 
manufactories." 


;sr* 


CHAPTER  V. 


EXAMPLES   OP    THRIFT. 


"  Examples  demonstrate  the  possibility  of  success." — Colton. 

"The  force  of  his  own  merit  makes  his  way." — Shakespeake:. 

"  Reader,  attend  :  whether  thy  soul 
Soars  Fancy's  liight  beyond  the  Pole, 
Or  darkling  grubs  this  earthly  hole 

In  low  pursuit — 
Know,  prudent,  cautious  self-control 

Is  Wisdom's  root." — Burns. 

"  In  the  familj',  as  in  tho  state,  the  best  source  of  wealth  is  Economy." 

Cicero. 

"  Right  action  is  the  result  of  right  faitli  ;  but  a  true  and  right  faith 
can  not  be  sustained,  .deepened,  extended,  save  in  a  course  of  right 
action. "-  -M'Comuie. 

nnHRIFT  is  the  spirit  of  order  applied  to  domestic  nianage- 
-■-  nient  and  or^;^  iiiization.  Its  object  is  to  manage  frugally 
tho  resources  of  the  family,  to  prevent  waste,  and  avoid  useless 
expenditure.  Thrift  is  under  the  influence  of  reason  and  fore- 
thought, and  never  works  by  chance  or  by  tits.  It  endeavors 
to  make  the  most  and  the  best  of  every  thing.  It  does  not 
save  money  for  saving's  sake.  It  makes  cheerful  sacrifices  for 
the  present  benefits  of  others  ;  or  it  submits  to  voluntary  priva- 
tion for  some  future  good. 

Mrs.  Inchbald,  author  of  the  "  Simple  Story,"  was,  by  dint 
of  thrift,  able  to  sot  a})art  tlie  lialf  of  her  small  income  for  the 
heuofit  of  lier  infirm  sister.  There  were  thus  about  two  pounds 
a  week  for  th(?  maintenance  of  each.     "  Many  times,"  she  says, 


V  -Vli 


i    I! 


HI 


70 


Spirit  of  Order. 


[cHAt».  V. 


"  during  the  winter,  when  I  was  crying  with  cold,  have  I  said 
to  myself,  *  Thank  God,  my  dear  sister  need  not  leave  her 
chamber ;  she  will  find  her  fire  ready  for  her  each  morning,  for 
she  ifc>  now  far  less  able  than  I  am  to  endure  privation.'  "  Mrs. 
Inchbald's  family  were,  for  the  most  part,  very  poor  ;  and  she 
felt  it  right  to  sup])ort  them  daring  tlieir  numerous  afflictions. 
There  is  one  thing  that  may  be  said  of  benevolence  ;  that  it  has 
never  ruined  any  one,  though  selfishness  and  dissipation  have 
ruined  thousands. 

The  words  "  Waste  not,  want  not,"  carved  in  stone  over  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  kitchen  fire-place  at  Abbotsford,  express  in  a 
few  words  the  secret  of  order  in  the  midst  of  abundance.  Order 
is  most  useful  in  the  management  of  every  thing — of  a  house- 
hold, of  a  business,  of  a  manufactory,  of  an  army.  Its  maxim 
is,  A  place  for  every  thing,  and  every  thing  in  its  place.  Order 
is  wealth ;  for,  whoever  properly  regulates  the  use  of  his 
income,  almost  doubles  his  resources.  Disorderly  persons  are 
rarely  rich,  and  orderly  persons  are  rarely  poor. 

Order  is  the  best  manager  of  time ;  for  unless  work  is  pro- 
perly arranged,  time  is  lost ;  and,  once  lost,  is  gone  forever. 
Order  illustrates  many  important  subjects.  Thus,  obedience  to 
the  moral  and  natural  law,  is  oi'der.  Respect  for  ourselves  and 
our  neighbors,  is  order.  Regard  for  the  rights  and  obligations 
of  all,  is  order.  Virtue  is  order.  The  world  began  with  order. 
Chaos  prevailed  before  the  establishment  of  order. 

Thrift  is  the  s])irit  of  order  in  human  life.  It  is  the  prime 
agent  in  private  economy.  It  preserves  the  happiness  of  many 
a  household.  And  as  it  is  usually  woman  who  regulates  the 
order  of  the  household,  it  is  mainly  upon  her  that  the  well- 
being  of  society  depends.  It  is  therefore  all  the  more  necessary 
that  she  should  early  be  educated  in  the  habit  and  the  virtue  of 
orderliness. 

The   peer,  the   merchant,  the  clerk,  the   artisan,    and   the 
laborer  are  all  of  the  same  nature,  born  with  the  same  pro 
jiensities,  and  subject  to  similar  influences.     They  are,  it 
true,  born  in  dirt'erent  positions;  but  it  rests  with  themsei 
whetlior  they  shall  live  tlieir  lives  nobly  or  vilely.     They  in 


CHAP,  v.] 


Eocamples  of  Economy. 


71 


not  huve  tlieir  choice  of  riches  or  ])Overty,  but  they  have  their 
choice  of  })eiiig  good  or  evil — of  being  worthy  or  worthless. 

People  of  the  highest  position,  in  point  of  culture  and  educa- 
tion, have  often  as  great  privations  to  endure  as  the  average  of 
working  people.  They  have  often  to  make  their  incomes  go 
much  further.  They  have  to  keep  up  a  social  standing.  Tliey 
have  to  dress  better,  and  live  sufficiently  well  for  the  purposes 
of  health.  Though  their  income  may  be  less  than  that  of 
colliers  and  iron- workers,  they  are  under  the  moral  necessity  of 
educating  their  sons  and  bringing  them  up  as  gentlemen,  so 
that  they  may  take  their  fair  share  of  the  world's  work. 

Thus,  the  tenth  Earl  of  Buchan  brouglit  up  a  numerous 
family  of  children,  one  of  whom  afterward  rose  to  be  Lord 
Chancellor  of  England,  upon  an  income  not  exceeding  two 
hundred  a  year  it  is  not  the  amount  of  income,  so  much  as 
the  good  use  of  it,  that  marks  the  trvie  man ;  and  viewed  in 
tills  light,  good  sense,  good  taste,  and  sound  mental  culture  are 
among  the  best  of  all  economists. 

The  late  Dr.  Alton  said  that  his  father  brought  a  still  larger 
family  \\\)  on  only  half  the  income  of  the  Earl  of  Buchan.  The 
following  (hidication,  prefixed  to  his  work  on  "Clerical  Econo- 
mics," is  worthy  of  being  remembered  :  *'  This  work  is  respect- 
fully dedicated  to  a  father,  now  in  the  eighty-third  year  of  iiis 
age,  who,  on  an  income  which  never  exceeded  a  hundred 
pounds  y(!arly,  educated,  out  of  a  family  of  twelve  children, 
four  sons  to  liberal  professions,  and  who  has  often  sent  his  last 
shilling  to  each  of  them  in  their  turn,  when  they  were  at 
college." 

The  author  might  even  cite  his  own  case  as  an  illustration 
of  the  advantages  of  thrift.  His  mother  was  left  a  widow 
when  her  youngest  child — the  youngest  of  eleven — was  only 
three  weeks  old.  Notwithstanding  a  considerable  debt  on 
a«'c«  mt  of  a  suretyshii),  which  was  paid,  she  bravely  met  the 
(lithi  iiities  of  her  position  and  perseveringly  overcame  them. 
Though  her  income  was  less  than  that  of  many  highly  paid 
workii  men,  she  educated  her  children  well,  ami  brought 
'lem  up  religiously  and  virtuously.     She  put  her  sons  in  the 


f  .' 


\  i 


)r 


>n 


I.       'I 


t 


H:i!: 


hi 


il 


w 


\'  li 


lilt: 

ji'  ih;  V  : 
i    ' 

if' 

'      I- 

'    '' 
ti, 


72 


David  Hume. 


[chap.  v. 


way  of  doing  well,  and  if  tliey  have  not  done  so,  it  was  through 
no  fault  of  hers. 

Hume,  the  historian,  was  a  man  of  good  family ;  but  being 
a  younger  brother,  his  means  were  very  small.  His  father 
died  while  he  was  an  infant;  lie  was  brought  up  by  his 
mother,  who  devoted  herself  entirely  to  tiie  rearing  and  educat- 
ing of  her  children.  At  twenty-three,  young  Hume  went  to 
France  to  prosecute  his  sttulies.  '*  There,"  says  ho,  in  his 
autobiography,  "  1  laid  down  the  i)lan  of  life  which  I  have 
steadily  and  successfully  pursued,  I  resolved  to  make  a  very 
rigid  frugality  su[)ply  my  deficiency  of  fortune,  to  maintain 
unimpaired  my  iiide[)endency,  and  to  regard  every  object  as 
contemptible,  except  the  improvement  of  my  tah'nts  in  litera- 
ture." The  first  book  he  ])ublished  was  a  conn)lete  failure. 
But  he  went  on  again  ;  composed  and  published  another  book, 
which  was  a  success.  But  lia  made  no  money  by  it.  Ho 
became  secretary  to  the  military  embassy  at  Vienna  and  Turin, 
and  at  thirty-six  he  thouglit  liiniself  rich.  These  are  his  own 
words:  "  My  ai)pointments,  with  my  frugality,  had  made  me 
reach  a  fortune  which  I  called  independent,  though  most  of  my 
friends  were  inclined  to  smile  when  1  said  so  :  in  short,  I  was 
now  master  of  near  a  thousand  ])Ounds."  JOveryone  knows 
that  a  thousand  pounds,  at  five  per  ('(ait.,  means  lifty  jtouuds  a 
year;  and  Hume  considered  himstilf  independent  with  that 
income.  His  friend  Adam  Smith  said  of  him,  "Even  in  tiie 
lowest  state  of  his  fortune,  his  great  and  necessary  frugality 
never  hiiulered  him  from  exercising,  upon  proi)er  occasions, 
acts  both  of  charity  and  generosity.  It  was  a  frugality 
founded  not  on  avarice,  but  upon  tiie  love  of  in.d(*p(aid(mcy." 

But  one  of  the  most  remarkable  illustrations  of  Thrift  is  to 
bo  found  in  the  history  of  the  Rev.  Robert  Walker- -the 
Wonderful  Robert  Walker,  as  he  is  still  called  in  the  district 
of  (■umberland  where  ho  iissided.  He  was  curate  of  L(!ath- 
waite  during  tiie  greater  part  of  last  century,  '''he  income  of 
the  curacy,  at  the  tiuKi  of  his  apjmintnient  (1735),  was  only 
five  pounds  a  year.  IJis  wife  brought  him  a  fortune  of  fcu'ty 
pounds.  J 8  it  possible  that  he  (;ould  contriv(i  to  live  u|H)n  his 
iivo  pounds  a  year,  the  iut(»rest  of  his  wife's  fortune,  and   the 


saved  mo 


CHAP,  v.] 


Rev.  Robert  Walker. 


73 


result  of  his  labors  as  a  clergyman  1  Yes,  he  contrived  to  do 
all  thi?  ;  and  he  not  only  lived  well,  though  plainly,  but  he 
saved  money,  which  he  left  for  the  benetit  of  his  family.  He 
accomj)lished  all  this  by  means  of  industry,  frugality,  and  tem- 
perance. 

First,  about  his  industry.  He  thoroughly  did  the  work 
connected  with  his  curacy.  The  Sabbath  was  in  all  respects 
regarded  by  him  as  a  holy  day.  After  morning  and  evening 
service,  he  devoted  the  evening  to  reading  the  Scriptures  and 
family  prayer.  On  week-days  he  taught  the  children  of  the 
parish,  charging  nothing  for  the  education,  but  only  taking  as 
much  as  the  people  ciiose  to  give  him.  The  parish  church  was 
his  school;  and  while  the  children  were  re[)eating  their  lessons 
by  his  side,  he  was,  like  Shenstone's  sohool-mistross,  engaged 
in  sj)inning  wool.  He  had  the  right  of  pasturage  upon  the 
mountains  for  a  few  sheep  and  a  couple  of  cows,  which 
recpiired  his  attendance.  With  this  pastoral  occu[)atiori  he 
joined  the  labors  of  husbandry,  for  he  rented  two  or  three 
acres  of  land  in  addition  to  his  own  acre  of  glebe,  and  ho  also 
possessed  a  garden — the  whole  of  which  was  tilled  V)y  bin  own 
hand.  The  fuel  of  the  house  consisted  of  ])eat,  procured  by 
his  labor  from  the  neiahborim;  mosses.  He  also  assisted  his 
))arishioner8  in  hay-making  and  shearing  their  Hocks,  in  which 
latter  art  he  was  eminently  dextiu'ous  In  r(?turn,  the  neigh- 
bors would  present  him  with  a  hay-cock,  or  a  lieoce,  as  a 
general  acknowledgment  of  his  services. 

After  oiliciating  as  curate  of  Leathwaite  for  about  twenty 
years,  the  annual  value  of  the  living  was  increasiul  to  s(!V(mteen 
|)ounds  ten  shillings.  His  character  being  already  well  known 
iiiul  highly  appreciated,  the  Jiishop  of  Carlisle  oll'envl  Mr. 
Walker  the  ai)pointment  of  the  adjoining  curacy  of  Ulpha; 
liiit  he  conscientiously  refused  it,  on  tlui  ground  that  the 
annexation  '*  woidd  bo  apt  to  cause  a  general  discont(^nt  among 
the  inliabitants  of  both  placets,  by  either  thinkin 
slighted,  being  only  served  alternately,  or  negl 
iluty,  or  attriliuting  it  to  covetousncss  in  nic 
occasions  of  murnuiring  I  wijuld  willingly  avoi< 
this  time  Mr.  Wulkor  hotl  a  family  of  eight  c 


'  H 


>i. 


1=-'- 


74 


His  Character. 


[chap.  v. 


m^ 


i 


afterward  maintained  one  of  his  sons  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin, 
until  he  was  ready  for  taking  holy  orders. 

The  parish  pastor  was,  of  course,  a  most  economical  man. 
Yet  no  act  of  his  life  savored  in  the  least  degree  of  meanness 
or  avarice.  On  the  other  hand,  his  conduct  throughout  life  dis- 
played the  greatest  disinterestedness  and  generosity.  He  knew 
very  little  of  luxuries,  and  he  cared  less.  Tea  was  only  used 
in  his  house  for  visitors.  The  family  used  milk,  which  was 
indeed  far  better.  Excepting  milk,  the  only  drink  used  in  the 
house  was  water — clear  water  drawn  from  the  mountain 
spring.  The  clothing  of  the  family  was  comely  and  decent, 
but  it  was  all  home-made:  it  was  simple,  like  their  diet. 
Occasionally  one  of  the  mountain  sheep  was  killed  for  pur- 
poses of  food  ;  and  toward  the  end  of  the  year,  a  cow  was 
killed  and  salted  down  for  provision  during  winter.  The  hide 
was  tanned,  and  the  leather  furnished  shoes  for  the  family. 
]}y  these  and  other  means  this  venerable  clergyman  reared  his 
numerous  family  ;  not  only  preserving  them,  as  he  so  affectingly 


says, 


<( 


from 


wanting 


the  necessaries  of  life,"  but  affording 
them  "an  unstinted  education,  and  the  means  of  raising  them- 
selves in  society." 

Many  men,  in  order  to  advance  themselves  in  the  world 
and  to  raise  themselves  in  society,  have  "  scorned  delights  and 
lived  laborious  days."  They  have  lived  humbly  and  frugally, 
in  order  to  accomplish  greater  things.  T'ley  have  supported 
themselves  by  their  hand-labor,  until  they  could  support  them- 
selves by  their  head-hvbor.  Some  may  allege  that  this  is  not 
justifiable  J  that  it  is  a  sin  against  tlie  proletariat  to  attempt 
to  rise  in  tlu;  world;  that  "  once  a  oobbhsr  always  a  cobbler." 
hut,  until  a  better  system  has  been  established,  the  self-appli- 
cation of  indivitliuils  is  the  only  method  by  which  science  and 
knowledge  can  be  concpiered,  and  the  world  permanently 
advanced. 

Goethe  says,  "  It  is  perfectly  indifferent  within  what  circle 
an  honest  man  acts,  provided  he  do  but  know  how  to  under- 
stand and  completely  fill  out  that  circle;"  and  again,  "An 
honest  aiul  vigorous  will  could  nuike  itself  a  path  and  employ 
its    activity    to   advantage    under    every    form    of    society." 


CHAP,  v.] 


Distim/uislied  Miner  a. 


76 


"What  is  the  best  government?"  he  asks:  "That  which 
teaches  us  to  govern  ourselves."  All  that  we  need,  in  his 
opinion,  is  individual  liberty  and  self-culture.  "  Let  every- 
one," iie  says,  "only  do  the  right  in  his  place,  without  troubl- 
ing himself  about  the  turmoil  of  the  world." 

At  all  events,  it  is  not  by  socialism,  but  by  individualism, 
that  anything  has  been  done  toward  the  achievement  of  know- 
ledge and  the  advancement  of  society.  It  is  the  will  and  deter- 
mination of  individual  men  that  impel  the  world  forward  in 
art,  in  science,  and  in  all  the  means  and  methods  of  civilization. 

Individual  men  are  willing  to  deny  themselves,  but  associ- 
ated  communities  will  not.  The  masses  are  too  selfish,  and 
fear  that  advantage  will  be  taken  of  any  sacrifices  which  they 
may  be  called  upon  to  make.  Hence  it  is  among  the  noble 
band  of  resolute  spirits  that  we  look  for  those  who  raise  and 
elevate  the  world  as  well  as  themselves.  The  recollection  of 
what  they  have  done  acts  as  a  stimulus  to  otliers.  It  braces 
the  mind  of  man,  reanimates  his  will,  and  encourages  him  to 
further  exertions. 

When  Lord  Elclio  addressed  the  East  Lothian  colliers,  he 
named  several  men  who  had  raised  themselves  from  the  coal-pit; 
and,  first  of  all,  he  referred  to  Mr.  Macdonald,  member  for 
Stafford.  "The  beginning  of  my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Mac- 
donald," he  said,  "was  when  I  was  told  that  a  miner  wanted 
to  see  me  in  the  lobby  of  the  House  of  Conmions.  I  went  out 
and  saw  Mr.  Macdonald,  who  gave  me  a  petition  from  his  dis- 
trict, which  ho  asked  me  to  present.  I  entered  into  conversa- 
tion with  him,  and  was  much  struck  by  his  intcilligonce.  Ho 
told  me  that  ho  had  bogmi  lift>  as  u  boy  in  the  pit  at  Lanark- 
shire, and  that  the  mom\y  h(^  saved  as  a  youth  in  tlio  summer 
he  spent  at  (ihisgow  University  in  the  winter;  and  that  is 
where  he  got  whatever  book  learning  or  j)Ower  of  writing  he 
possesses.  I  say  that  is  an  instance  that  does  lionor  to  the  miners 
of  Scotland.  Another  instance  was  that  of  Dr.  Hogg,  who 
began  as  a  pitman  in  this  country  :  worked  in  <h(?  morning, 
attended  scliool  in  the  afternoon;  tlicni  w<(nt  to  tht*  university 
for  four  years,  and  to  tlio  Tlieoiogical  Mall  for  five  years;  and 
afterward,  in  consecpience  of  his  health  failing,  he  went  .ibroad, 


?M 


'11''       ! 


ii.Ml 


U 


lii'iJi 


i.t-     i' 


$' 


*-^i 


«■:* 


l;l. 


76 


George  Stephenson. 


[chap.  v. 


and  is  now  engaged  as  a  missionary  in  Upper  Eg3'pt,  Or  take 
the  case  of  Mr.  (now  Sir  George)  Elliott,  member  for  North 
Durham,  who  has  spoken  iip  for  the  miners  all  the  better  for 
having  had  practical  knowledge  of  their  woik.  He  began  as  a 
miner  in  the  pit,  and  he  worked  his  way  up  till  he  has  in  his 
employment  many  thousand  men.  He  has  risen  to  his  great 
wealth  and  station  from  the  humblest  position;  as  every  man 
who  now  hears  me  is  capable  of  doing,  to  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  if  he  will  only  be  thrifty  and  industrious." 

Lord  Elcho  might  also  have  mentioned  Dr.  Hutton,  the 
geologist,  a  man  of  much  higher  order  of  genius,  who  was  the 
son  of  a  coal-viewer.  Berwick,  the  first  wood-engraver,  is  also 
said  to  have  been  the  son  of  a  coal-miner.  Dr.  Oam[)bell  was 
the  son  of  a  Loanhead  collier:  he  was  the  forerunner  of  Moliat 
and  Livingstone,  in  their  missionary  jom-neys  among  the  Bechu- 
anas  in  South  Africa.  Allan  Kamsay,  the  poet,  was  also  the 
son  of  a  miner. 

George  Stephenson  worked  his  way  from  the  pithead  to  the 
highest  position  as  an  engineer.  George  began  his  life  witli 
industry,  and  when  he  had  saved  a  little  money,  he  spent  it  in 
getting  a  little  learning.  What  a  hapjty  man  he  was  when  his 
wagee  were  increased  to  twelve  shillings  a  week !  Hc^  declareil 
upon  that  occasion  that  ho  was  "'a  made  man  for  lifo!"  He 
was  not  only  enabled  to  maintain  hinis(;lf  upon  his  earnings, 
but  to  help  his  poor  parents,  and  to  pay  for  his  own  education. 
When  his  skill  had  increased,  and  his  wages  were  advanced  to 
pound  a  week,  he  immediately  began,  like  a  thoughtful,  intelli- 
gent workman,  to  lay  by  his  surplus  money;  and  when  he  had 
saved  his  first  guinea,  ho  j)rou(lly  declared  to  one  of  his  col- 
leagues that  he  "  was  now  a  rich  man !" 

And  he  was  right.  For  the  nuiu  who,  after  satisfying  his 
wants,  has  something  to  spare,  is  no  longer  poor.  It  is  certain 
that  from  that  day  Stephenson  never  looked  back;  his  advance 
as  a  self-improving  man  was  as  steady  as  the  light  of  simrise. 
A  person  of  largo  experience  has  indeed  stated  that  he  luive)' 
knew,  among  working-jH^oph^,  a  single  in.^tauce  of  a  man  having; 
out  of  his  small  earnings  laid  by  a  i)Ound  who  had  in  the  ontl 
become  a  pauper. 


CHAP,  v.] 


James  Watt. 


77 


When  Stephenson  proposed  to  erect  his  first  locomotive,  he 
had  not  sufficient  means  to  defray  its  cost.  But  in  the  course 
of  his  life  as  a  workman  he  liad  established  a  character.  He 
was  trusted.  He  was  faithful.  He  was  a  man  who  could  l)e 
depended  on.  Accordingly,  when  the  Earl  of  Ravensworth  was 
informed  of  Stephenson's  desire  to  erect  a  locomotive,  he  at 
once  furnished  him  with  the  means  for  enabling  him  to  carry 
liis  wishes  into  eft'ect. 

Watt  also,  when  inventing  4.he  condensing  steam-engine, 
maintained  himself  by  making  and  selling  mathematical  instru- 
ments. He  made  flutes,  organs,  compasses — anytliing  that 
would  maintain  h  i,  initil  he  had  completed  his  invention.  At 
the  same  time  he  ^^  is  perfecting  his  own  education — learning 
French,  German,  mathenuitics,  and  the  principles  of  natural 
philosophy.  This  lasted  for  many  years;  and  by  the  time  that 
Watt  developed  his  steam-engine  and  discovered  Mathew  Boul- 
ton,  he  had  by  his  own  eliorts,  become  an  accomplished  and 
scientific  man. 

These  great  workers  did  not  feel  ashamed  of  laboring  with 
thoir  hands  for  a  living;  but  they  also  felt  within  themselves 
the  power  of  doing  head-work  as  well  as  hand-work.  And 
while  thus  laboring  with  their  hands,  they  went  on  with  theii' 
inventions,  the  perfecting  of  which  has  proved  of  so  much 
advantage  to  the  world.  Hugh  Miller  furnished,  in  his  ow^n 
life,  an  excellent  instance  of  that  ju'actical  connnon  sense  in  the 
business  of  life  which  he  so  strongly  reconnuended  to  others. 
When  he  began  to  write  poetry,  and  felt  within  him  the  grow- 
ing powers  of  a  literary  man,  he  diligently  continued  his  labor 
as  a  stone-cutter. 

Horace  WaliK)le  has  said  that  Queen  Caroline's  patronage  of 
Ste|)hen  Duck,  the  thresher-poet,  ruined  twenty  men,  who  all 
turned  poets.  It  was  not  so  with  the  early  success  of  Hugh 
Miller.  "There  is  no  more  fatal  error,"  he  says,  "into  which  a 
working  man  of  a  literai-y  turn  can  fall  than  the  mistake  of 
deeming  himself  too  good  for  his  humble  employments,  and  yet 
it  is  H  mistake  as  common  as  it  is  fatal.  I  had  already  seen 
several  poor  wrecked  mechanics,  who,  believing  themselves  to 
he  poets,  and  regarding  the  manual  occupation  by  which  they 


til^ 


<' 


J 


;!  liSl 


%    i 


h'a 


,1  '^iui*|iwrq!nv«cp^p<P(>V'fnn|iHMPf(|iiiMi 


78 


Working  for  Indepevdence. 


[chap. 


V. 


iiJi: 


could  alone  live  in  indepentUaice  as  beneath  them,  had  become 
in  consequence  little  better  than  mendicants — too  good  to  work 
for  their  bread,  l>ut  not  too  good  virtually  to  beg  it;  and,  look- 
ing upon  them  as  beacons  of  warning,  I  determined  that,  with 
God's  help,  I  should  give  their  error  a  wide  offing,  and  never 
associate  the  idea  of  meanness  with  an  honest  calling,  or  deen) 
myself  too  good  to  be  independent." 

At  the  same  time,  a  man  who  feels  he  has  some  good  work 
in  him,  which  study  and  lab^r  might  yet  bring  out,  is  fully 
justified  in  denying  himself,  and  in  applying  his  energies  to  the 
culture  of  his  intellect.  And  it  is  astonishing  how  much  care- 
fulness, thrift,  the  reading  of  books,  and  diligent  application, 
will  help  such  men  onward. 

The  author  in  his  boyhood  knew  three  men  who  worked  in 
an  agricultural-implement-maker's  shop.  They  worked  in  wood 
and  iron,  and  made  carts,  ])lows,  harrows,  drilling  machines,  and 
such-like  articles.  Somehow  or  other,  the  idea  got  into  their 
heads  that  they  might  be  able  to  do  something  better  than 
making  carts  and  harrows.  They  did  not  despise  the  lot  of 
hand-labor,  but  they  desired  to  use  it  as  a  step  toward  some- 
thing better.  Their  wages  at  that  time  could  not  have  exceeded 
from  eighteen  to  twenty  shillings  a  week. 

Two  of  the  young  men  who  worked  at  the  same  bench,  con- 
trived to  save  enough  money  to  enable  them  to  attend  college 
during  the  winter.  At  the  end  of  each  session  they  went  back  to 
their  hand-lab<jr,  and  earned  enough  wages  during  the  summer  to 
enable  them  to  return  to  their  classes  during  the  winter.  The 
third  did  not  ado[)t  this  course.  He  joined  a  mechanics'  insti- 
tute which  had  just  been  started  in  the  town  in  which  he  lived, 
l]y  attending  the  lectures  and  reading  the  books  in  the  library, 
he  acipured  some  knowledge  of  chemistry,  of  the  i)rinci})les  of 
mechanics,  and  of  natural  philoso})hy.  He  applied  himself 
closely,  studied  hard  in  his  evening  hours,  Jintl  })ecame  an 
accomplished  man. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  tracer  their  history  ;  but  what  they 
evtiutually  arriv«'d  at  nuiy  b»!  nuintioncd.  Of  the  llrst  two,  one 
became  the  teacher  an<l  ]>ro})rii'tor  of  a  large  public  school;  tlic 
other    became   a  well   known  dissenting    minister ;    whih'  tlif 


,il  ! 


!.;,;  w 


CHAP,  v.] 


Working  for  Higher  Things. 


'9 


third,  working  his  way  strenuously  and  bravely,  became  the 
principal  engineer  and  manager  of  the  largest  steamship  com- 
pany in  the  world. 

Although  mechanics'  institutes  are  old  institutions,  they 
have  scarcely  been  supported  by  working-men.  The  public- 
house  is  more  attractive  and  more  frequented.  And  yet 
mechanics'  institutes,  even  though  they  are  scarcely  known 
south  of  Yorkshii'e  and  Lancashire,  have  been  the  means  of 
doing  a  great  deal  of  good.  By  placing  sound  mechanical 
knowledge  within  the  reach  of  even  the  few  persons  who  have 
been  disposed  to  take  advantage  of  them,  they  have  elevated 
many  persons  into  positions  of  great  social  influence.  We  have 
heard  a  distinguished  man  say,  publicly,  that  a  mechanics'  insti- 
tute had  made  him  ;  that  but  for  the  access  which  it  had 
afforded  him  to  knowledge  of  ail  kinds,  he  would  have  occu- 
pied a  far  diflerent  position.  In  short,  the  mechanics'  institu- 
tion had  elevated  him  from  the  position  of  a  licensed  victualler 
to  that  of  an  engineer. 

We  have  referred  to  the  wise  practice  of  men  in  humble 
position  maintaining  themselves  by  their  trade  until  they  gaw 
a  way  toward  maintaining  themselves  by  a  higher  callir.g. 
Thus  Herschel  maintained  himself  by  music,  while  i^ursuing 
his  discoveries  in  astronomy.  When  playing  the  oboe  in  the 
pumj)  room  at  Bath,  he  would  retire  while  the  dancers  were 
lounging  round  the  room,  go  out  and  take  a  ])eep  at  the  heav- 
ens through  his  telescope,  and  quietly  return  to  his  instrument. 
It  was  while  he  was  thus  maintaining  himself  by  music  that  he 
discovered  the  Georgium  Sidus.  When  the  Royal  Society 
recognized  his  discovery,  the  oboe-player  suddenly  found  him- 
self famous. 

Franklin  long  maintained  himself  by  his  trade  of  printing. 
He  was  a  hard-working  man — thrifty,  frugal,  and  a  great  saver 
of  time.  J{o  worked  for  character  as  much  as  foi-  wages  ;  and 
when  it  was  found  that  he  could  bo  reliinl  on,  he  prospered. 
At  length  he  was  publicly  recognized  as  a  great  statesman,  and 
aa  one  of  the  most  scientiflc  men  of  his  time. 

Ferguson,  the  astronomer,  lived  by  [lortrait-painting,  until 
las  merits  as  a  scientific  man  were  recognized.     John  Dollond 


i-lt 


80 


Samuel  Richardson. 


[c»AP. 


maintained  himself  as  a  silk-weaver  in  Spitalfields.  In  the 
course  of  his  studies  he  made  great  ini[)rovements  in  the  re- 
fracting telescoi)e ;  and  the  achromatic  telescope,  which  he 
invented,  gave  him  a  higli  rank  among  the  philosophers  of  his 
age.  But  during  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  while  he  was 
carrying  on  his  investigations,  he  continued,  until  the  age  of 
forty-six,  to  carry  on  his  original  trade.  At  length  he  confined 
himself  entirely  to  making  telescopes,  and  then  he  gave  up  his 
trade  of  a  silk  weaver. 

Winckelman,  the  distinguished  writer  on  classical  antiquities 
and  the  tine  arts,  was  the  son  of  a  shoemaker.  His  father 
endeavored,  as  long  as  he  could,  to  give  his  boy  a  learned  educa- 
tion ;  Ijut,  becoming  ill  and  worn  out,  Ikj  had  eventually  to 
retire  to  the  hospital.  Winckelman  and  his  father  were  (mce 
accustomed  to  sing  at  night  in  the  streets  to  raise  fees  to  enable 
the  boy  to  attend  the  grammar  school.  The  younger  Winckel- 
man then  undertook,  by  hard  labor,  to  support  his  father  ;  and 
afterward,  by  means  of  teaching,  to  keep  himself  at  college. 
Everybody  knows  how  distinguished  he  eventually  became. 

Samuel  Richardson,  while  writing  his  novels,  stuck  to  his 
trade  of  a  book-seller.  He  sold  his  books  in  the  front  shop, 
while  he  wrote  them  in  the  back.  He  would  not  give  himself 
up  to  authorshi[),  because  he  loved  his  independence.  "  Yoti 
know,"  lie  said  to  his  friend  Defreval,  *•  how  my  business 
engages  me.  You  know  by  what  snatches  of  time  I  write,  that 
I  may  noc  neglect  that,  and  that  1  juay  preserve  that  indepen- 
dency which  is  the  comfort  of  my  life.  I  never  sought  out  of 
myself  for  patrons.  My  own  industry  and  God's  j)rovidence 
have  been  my  whole  reliance.  The  grcnit  are  not  great  to  nu' 
unless  they  are  good.  And  it  is  a  glorious  privilege  that  a 
middling  man  enjoys,  who  has  preserved  his  independency,  and 
can  occasionally  (though  not  stoically)  tell  the  world  what  he 
thinks  of  that  world,  in  hopes  to  contribute,  though  by  his 
mite,  to  mend  it." 

The  late  Dr.  Olinthus  Gregory,  in  addressing  the  Deptford 
MVchanics'  [nstitiition  at  their  iirst  anniversary,  took  the 
opportunity  of  mentioning  various  men  in  humble  circnni 
stances  (some  of  whom  ho  had  been  able  to  aspist),  who,  by 


m>^ 


CHAP,  v.] 


Results  of  Application. 


81 


means  of  energy,  application,  and  self-denial,  had  been  able  to 
accomplish  great  things  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  Thus 
he  described  the  case  of  inlaboreron  the  turnpike-road,  who  had 
become  an  able  Greek  scholar ;  of  a  fifer  and  a  private  soldier 
ill  a  regiment  of  militia,  l)Oth  self-taught  mathematicians,  one 
of  whom  became  a  succes-sful  school-master,  the  other  a  lecturer 
on  natural  [)hilosoj)hy  ;  of  a  jouriu^yman  tin-plate  worker,  who 
invented  rules  for  the  solution  of  cubic  e(piations  ;  of  a  country 
sexton,  who  became  a  tivichi^r  of  music,  and  who,  by  his  love  of 
the  study  of  musical  scieni-:e,  was  transformed  from  a  drunken 
sot  to  an  exemplary  husband  and  father ;  of  a  coal-miner  (a 
correspondent  of  Dr.  Gregory's),  who  was  an  able  writer  on 
topics  of  the  higher  mathematics  ;  of  another  correspondent,  a 
laboring  white-smith,  wjio  was  also  well  ac(]uainted  with  the 
course  of  pure  mathematics,  as  taught  at  Cambridge,  Dublin, 
and  the  military  colleges  ;  of  a  tailor,  ^vho  was  an  excellent 
geometrician,  and  had  discovered  curves  which  escaj)ed  the 
notice  of  Newton,  and  who  had  labored  industriously  and  con- 
tentedly at  his  trade  until  sixty  years  of  age,  when,  by  the 
recommendation  of  his  scientific  friends,  he  was  appointed 
nautical  examiner  at  the  Trinity  House  ;  of  a  plowman  in 
Lincolnshire,  who,  without  aid  of  men  or  books,  discovered  the 
rotation  of  the  earth,  tlie  ^jrinciple  of  spherical  astronomy,  and 
invented  a  })lanetary  system  akin  to  the  Tychonic  \  of  a  country 
shoe-maker,  who  became  distinguished  as  one  of  the  ablest  meta- 
physical writers  in  Britain,  and  who,  at  more  than  fifty  years 
of  age,  was  removed,  by  the  influence  of  his  talents  and  his 
worth,  from  his  native  county  to  London,  where  he  was 
employed  to  edit  some  useful  pul)lications  devoted  to  the  diffu- 
sion of  knowledge  and  the  best  interests  of  mankind. 

Students  of  art  have  had  to  [)ractise  self-denial  in  many 
ways.  Quentin  Matsys,  having  fallen  in  love  with  a  painter's 
daugjiter,  determiiu^d  to  win  her.  Though  but  a  blacksmith 
and  a  farrier,  he  studied  art  so'  diligently,  and  accpiired  so 
much  distinction,  that  his  mistress  afterward  accepted  the 
painter  whom  she  had  before  rejected  as  the  blacksmith. 
Flaxman,  however,  married  his  wife  before  he  had  acquired 
any  distinction  whatever  as  an  artist.     He  was  merely  a  skil- 


v^ 


?   I    ! 


il     I'm.; 

!         i-     ii    ; 


1  m 


f     i\ 


I'     ■; ,  (S "  s." 

:"•■■■  ill 
u 


82 


Canova  and  Lough. 


[chap.  v. 


I 


ful  and  promising  pupil.  When  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  heard 
of  his  marriage,  he  exclaimed,  "  Flaxman  is  ruined  for  an 
artist  !"  But  it  was  not  so.  When  Flaxman's  wife  heard  of 
the  remark,  she  said,  "  Let  us  work  and  economize.  I  will 
never  have  it  said  that  Ann  Dfiuhani  ruined  John  Flaxman  as 
an  artist."  Tliey  economized  accordingly.  To  earn  money, 
Flaxman  undertook  to  collect  the  local  rates  ;  and  what  with 
art  and  industry,  the  ])atient,  hard-woiking,  thrifty  couple, 
after  five  years  of  careful  saving,  set  out  for  Home  together. 
There  Flaxman  studied  and  worked  ;  there  he  improved  his 
knowledge  of  art ;  and  there  he  ac(piired  the  rejnitation  of 
being  the  first  of  English  sculptors. 

The  greater  number  of  artists  have  sprung  from  humble  life. 
If  they  had  been  born  rich,  they  would  probably  never  have 
been  artists.  They  have  had  to  work  their  way  from  one 
position  to  another ;  and  to  strengthen  their  nature  by  con- 
quering difficulty.  Hogarth  began  his  career  by  engraving 
shop-bills.  William  sharp  began  by  engraving  door-plates. 
Tassie,  the  sculptor  and  medalist,  began  life  as  a  stone-cutter. 
Having  accidentally  seen  a  collection  of  pictures,  he  aspired  to 
become  an  artist,  and  entered  an  academy  to  learn  the  elements 
of  drawing.  He  continued  to  work  at  his  old  trade  until  he 
was  able  to  maintain  himself  by  his  new  one.  He  used  his 
labor  as  the  means  of  cultivating  his  skill  in  his  more  refined 
and  elevated  profession. 

Chantrey,  of  Sheffield,  was  an  economist  both  of  time  and 
money.  He  saved  fifty  pounds  out  of  his  earnings  as  a  carver 
and  gilder,  paid  the  money  to  his  master,  and  cancelled  his 
indentures.  Then  he  came  up  to  London,  and  found  employ- 
ment as  a  journeyman  carver ;  he  proceeded  to  paint  portraits 
and  model  busts,  and  at  length  worked  his  way  to  the  first 
position  as  a  i!ciilptor. 

Canova  was  a  stone-cutter,  like  his  father  and  his  grand- 
father ;  and  through  stone  cutting  he  worked  his  way  to 
sculpture.  After  leaving  the  quarry,  he  went  to  Venice,  and 
gave  his  services  to  an  artist,  from  whom  he  received  but  little 
recompense  for  his  work.  "  I  labored,"  said  he,  "  for  a  mere 
pittance,  but  it  was  sufficient.     It  was  the  fruit  of  my  own 


CHAP,    v.] 


John   Lough. 


83 


resolution,  and,  as  I  then  flatter(;cl  mysolf,  the  foretaste  of 
more  honorable  rewards ;  for  I  never  thought  of  wealth." 
He  pursued  his  studies — in  drawing  and  modelling  ;  in  lan- 
guages, poetry,  iiistoiy,  anti([uity,  and  the  Greek  and  Roman 
classics.  A  long  time  elapsed  Ix^fort;  liis  taU'iits  were  recognized, 
and  then  he  suddenly  became  famous. 

Lough,  the  English  sculptor,  is  another  instance  of  self-denial 
and  hard  work.  When  a  boy,  lie  was  fond  of  drawing.  At 
school  he  made  drawings  of  horses,  dogs,  cows,  and  men,  fot 
pins  :  that  was  his  first  ])ay,  and  lie  used  to  go  home  with  his 
jacket-sleeve  stuck  full  of  them.  He  and  his  l)rother  next  made 
dgures  in  clay.  Pope's  Homer  lay  on  his  father's  window. 
The  boys  were  so  delighted  with  it  that  they  made  thousands  of 
models — one  taking  the  Greeks  and  the  other  the  Trojans.  An 
odd  volume  of  Gibbon  gave  an  account  of  the  Coliseum.  After 
the  family  were  in  bod,  the  brothers  made  a  model  of  the 
Coliseum,  and  filled  it  with  fighting  gladiators.  As  the  boys 
grew  \\\)  they  were  sent  to  their  usual  outdoor  work,  following 
the  plow,  and  doing  the  usual  agricultural  labor  ;  but  still 
adhering  to  their  modelling  at  leisure  hours.  At  Chrisfmas- 
time  Lough  was  very  much  in  demand.  Everybody  wanted 
him  to  make  models  in  ])astry  for  Christmas  pies — the  n(Mgh- 
bouring  farmers  especially.  "  It  was  capital  ju-actice,"  he 
afterward  said. 

At  length  Lough  went  from  Newcastle  to  London,  to  jmsh  his 
way  in  the  world  of  art.  He  detained  a  passage  in  a  collier,  the 
skipper  of  which  he  knew.  When  he  readied  London,  he  slept 
on  board  the  collier  as  long  as  it  remained  in  the  Thames.  He 
was  so  great  a  favorite  with  the  men,  that  tliev  all  urtjed  him 
to  go  back.  He  had  no  friends,  ao  patronage,  no  money  I 
What  could  he  do  with  everything  agiiust  him  ?  But,  hilving 
alread}  gone  so  far,  he  determined  to  proceed.  He  would  not 
',' »  hack — 'at  least,  noh  yet.  The  men  all  we[)t  when  he  took 
farewell  of  them.  He  was  alone  in  London,  alone  under  the 
shadow  of  St.  Paul's. 

His  next  step  was  to  take  ax  lodging  in  an  obsure  first  floor 
in  Burleigh  Street,  over  a  green-grocer's  shop  ;  and  there  he 
hogan  to  model  his  grand  statue  of  "  INIilo."      FTo  had  to  take 


n 


t      ; 

■  *  ■'  ■    ■  ■  ^1 

:.   ,i'.. 

ill, 

"W^ 

m 


84 


LougNs  Success. 


[chap.  v. 


the  roof  off  to  let  Milo's  head  out.  Tliei-e  Haydon  found  him, 
and  was  delighted  with  his  j^enius.  "  I  went,"  he  says  "  to 
young  Lough,  the  sculptor,  who  has  just  burst  out,  and  has  pro- 
duced great  effect.  His  "  Milo  "  is  really  the  most  extraor- 
dinary thing,  considering  all  the  circumstances,  in  modern 
sculpture.  It  is  another  proof  of  the  efficacy  of  inherent 
genius."  That  Lough  must  have  been  poor  enough  at  this  time, 
is  evident  from  the  fact  that,  during  the  execution  of  his 
'*  Milo,"  he  did  not  eat  meat  for  three  months ;  and  when  Peter 
Coxe  found  him  out,  he  was  tearing  up  his  shirt  to  make  wet 
rags  for  his  figure,  to  keep  the  clay  moist.  He  had  a  bushel 
and  a  half  of  coals  during  the  whole  winter ;  and  he  used  to 
lie  down  by  the  side  of  his  clay  model  of  the  immortal  figure, 
damp  as  it  was,  and  shiver  for  hours  till  he  fell  asleep. 

Chantrey  once  said  to  Haydon,  "  When  I  have  made  money 
enough,  I  will  devote  myself  to  high  ar."  But  busts  engrossed 
Chantrey's  time.  He  was  munificently  paid  for  them,  and 
never  raised  himself  above  the  money-making  part  of  his  pro- 
fession. When  Haydon  next  saw  Chantrey  at  Brighton,  he 
said  to  him,  "  Here  is  a  young  man  from  the  country,  who 
has  come  to  London ;  and  he  is  doing  })recisely  what  you  have 
so  long  been  dreaming  of  doing." 


The  exhibition  of  "  Milo  " 


The  Duke 
statue.     Sir 


was  a  great  success. 
of  Wellington  went  to  see  it,  and  ordered  a 
Matthew  White  Ridley  was  much  struck  hj  the  genius  of 
young  Lough,  and  became  one  of  his  greatest  patrons.  The 
sculptor  determined  to  strike  out  a  new  ])ath  for  himself.  He 
thought  the  Greeks  had  exhausted  the  Pantheistic,  and  that 
heathen  gods  had  been  overdone.  Lough  began  and  pursued 
the  study  of  lyric  sculpture  :  he  would  illustrate  the  great 
English  poets.  But  there  was  the  obvious  difficulty  of  telling 
the  story  of  a  figure  by  a  single  attitude.  It  was  like  a  flash 
of  thought.  "The  true  artist,"  he  said,  "  must  plant  his  feet 
firmly  on  the  earth,  and  sweep  the  heavens  with  his  pencil.  I 
mean,"  he  added,  "  that  the  soul  must  be  combined  with  the 
body,  the  ideal  with  the  real,  the  heavens  with  the  earth.' 

It  is  not  necessary  to  describe  the  success  of  Mr.  Lough  as  a 
sculptor.     His  statue  of  "The  Mourners"  is  known  all  over  the 


CHAP,  v.] 


Words  of  Lord  Derby. 


85 


world.  He  has  illustrated  Shakspeare  and  Milton.  His 
"Puck,"  "Titania,"  and  other  great  works  are  extensively- 
known,  and  their  genius  universally  admired.  But  it  may  be 
raention(fd  that  his  noble  statue  of  "Milo"  was  not  cast  in 
bronze  until  1862,  when  it  was  exhibited  at  the  International 
Exhibition  of  that  year. 

The  Earl  of  Derby,  in  recently  distributing  the  prizes  to  the 
successful  pupils  of  the  Liver])ool  College,  made  the  following 
observations  : 

"The  vast  majority  of  men,  in  all  ages  and  countries,  must 
work  before  they  can  eat.  Even  those  who  are  not  under  the 
necessity,  are,  in  England,  generally  impelled  by  example,  by 
custom,  perhaps  by  a  sense  of  what  is  fitted  for  them,  to  adopt 

what  is  called  an  active  pursuit  of  souie  sort If  there  is 

one  thing  more  certain  than  another,  it  is  this — that  every 
member  of  a  community  is  bound  to  do  something  for  that 
community,  in  return  for  what  he  gets  from  it;  and  neither 
intellectual  cultivation,  nor  the  possession  of  material  wealth, 
nor  any  other  plea  whatever,  except  that  of  physical  or  mental 
incapacity,  can  excuse  any  of  us  from  that  plain  and  pei"sonai 

duty And  though  it  may  be,  in  a  community  like  this, 

considered  by  some  to  be  a  heterodox  view,  I  will  say  that  it 
often  appears  to  me,  in  the  })resent  day,  that  we  are  a  little  too 
|apt,  in  all  classes,  to  look  upon  ourselves  as  mere  machines  for 
what  is  called  'getting  on,'  and  to  forget  that  there  are  in  every 
human  being  many  faculties  which  cannot  be  employed,  and 
many  wants  which  cannot  be  satisfied,  by  that  occupation.  I 
have  not  a  word  to  utter  against  strenuous  devotion  to  business 
while  you  are  at  it.  But  one  of  the  wisest  and  most  thoroughly 
cultivated  men  whom  I  ever  knew  retired  before  the  age  of  fifty 
from  a  profession  in  which  he  was  making  an  enormous  income, 
because,  he  said,  he  had  got  as  much  as  he»or  anyone  belonging 
to  him  could  want,  and  he  did  not  see  why  ho  should  sacrifice 
the  rest  of  his  life  to  money-getting.  Some  people  thought  him 
very  foolish.  I  did  not.  And  I  believe  that  the  gentleman  of 
whom  I  speak  never  once  repented  his  decision." 

The   gentleman   to   whom    Lord  Derby    referred    was    Mr. 
Nasinyth,  the  inventor  of  the  steam-hammer.     And  as  he  has 


A  < 


^ii.' 


lit- 


A'    :0 


r^ 


m:- 


86 


James  Nasmyth 


[chap.  v. 


i  II 


lill 


himself  jKuniiUod  the  story  of  liis  lite  to  In;  jtuhlished,  tlicre  is 
no  necessity  for  concejiiing  his  natne.  His  life  is,  Vjosides,  cal- 
culated to  furnish  one  of  the  best  illustrations  of  our  subject. 
When  a  hoy,  he  was  of  a  bright,  active;,  checrfid  disposition. 
To  a  c(!rtain  extent  he  inherited  his  niechani(;al  j>o\vi'is  from  his 
fath(n-,  who,  besides  being  an  exceihMit  painter,  was  a  thorough 
mechanic,  it  was  in  his  workshojt  that  tlu;  boy  nia<h^  his  tirst 
acfpiaintance  with  tools.  He  also  hiid  for  his  conii)anion  tlie 
son  of  an  ii'on  founch'r,  and  he  often  went  to  tlu;  founder's  shop 
to  watch  the  nioidding,  irou-inelting,  casting,  foi-ging,  pattern- 
making,  and  smith's  work  that  w(!re  going  on, 

"I  look  back,"  Mr.  Nasmyth  says,  "to  tla^  hours  of  Saturdiiy 
afternoons  spent  in  having  the  run  of  the  workshops  of  this 
small  foundiv  as  the  tru(^  and  only  ap])renticeshij)  of  my  life. 
I  did  not  ti'ust  to  i-eading  about  such  things.  I  saw,  handled, 
and  heljxMl  when  I  could;  and  all  the  ideas  in  connection  with 
them  becanu!  in  all  ch'tails,  evei-  after,  permanent  in  njy  mind 
to  say  nothing  <if  the  no  sni;ill  acipiaintance  obtained  at  the 
same  time  of  the  nature  of  the;  worknuni." 

In  tlu;  course;  of  time,  young  Nasmyth,  with  the  aid  of  his 
father's  tools,  coidd  do  little  jol)S  for  himself  He  laade  steels 
for  timh'r-boxc^s,  which  h(!  sold  to  his  school-fellows.  Ho  made 
model  stean\-engines,  and  sectional  moiUds,  for  use;  at  po})ular 
loctiu'es  and  in  schools;  and,  by  stalling  such  mochds,  he  raised 
Kuihcient  monev  to  efuabh;  1dm  to  attend  the  lectures  on  natural 
philosoi)hy  and  chenustry  atthe  Kdinbuigh  Univei'sity.  Among 
his  works  at  that  tinn;  was  a  working  moihdof  asteam-carriago 
for  use  on  commoii  roads.  It  worked  so  wcdl  that  he  was 
induced  to  make  anotlua"  on  a  largei'  scab;.  Aftevi-  having  b(;eii 
successfully  used,  he  sold  tlm  engine;  for  the  purj)0He  of  driving 
a  small  factory. 

Masmyth  was  now  twenty  years  old>  ar.d  wished  to  turn  his 
practical  faculties  to  account.  His  »)l)ject  was  to  find  employ 
ment  in  one  of  tin-  great  engineering  r^stabiislimcnls  of  the  day. 
The  first,  in  his  opinion,  was  that  of  Henry  Mandsley,  of  Lon- 
don. To  attain  his  object,  he  nnide  a  small  steam-engine,  every 
part  of  which  was  his  own  handiwork,  including  the  casting 
and  forging.      He  proceeded  to  JiOndon  :  inti'od\u  (;d  hiniself  to 


% 


I- A' J 


CHAP,  v.] 


Janies  Nasmyth. 


87 


tho  groat  engineer;  sul>niiite<l  liisdrawingK;  showed  liis  models; 
and  was  finally  engaged  as  Mr.  JMaudley's  j>rivate  workman. 

Then  came  the  question  of  wages.  When  Nasmytl  finally 
left  home  to  begin  the  world  on  his  own  account,  he  determined 
not  to  cost  his  Jht/irr  another  fartlmuj.  P>(;ing  the  youngest  of 
eleven  children,  he  tliought  that  In-  could  maintain  himself, 
without  trenching  further  upon  th(^  family  means.  And  h«' 
nobly  fulfilled  his  d(!t(M-mination.  lie  felt  that  the  M^ages  suffi- 
cient to  maintain  other  worknuai  would  sui-ely  Ik;  y;;tlicier.t  to 
maintain  him.  lie  might  haA'(!  to  exercise self-cDut'"!  arid  self- 
denial ;  hut  of  coui'sir  he  could  do  that.  TlKJUgh  l)Ut  a  youth, 
he  had  wisdom  enough,  and  seif-i(\sj)ect  enough,  to  deny  himself 
everything  that  was  tinuc('essary  in  oivler  (o  |>res(u-\t'  tlu^  valu- 
able situation  which  he  had  ol)tain(Ml. 

Well,  about  the  wages.  When  Mr.  Maudsley  refei'i-ed  his 
young  workman  to  tlu^  chief  cashier  as  to  his  weekly  wages,  it 
WHS  arranged  that  young  Nasmyth  was  to  receivi^  ten  shillingy 
a  week.  He  knew  that,  by  strict  (economy,  he  could  livi'  within 
this  amount.  He  (M)id,rived  a  small  cooking  a|»[»aratus,  of  which 
we  possess  the  tlrawings.  It  is  not  necessary  to  describe  his 
method  of  cooking,  nor  his  nu'thod  of  li\ing  ;  it.  is  sufticieut  tcf 
say  that  his  litth^  cooking  apjiaratus  (in  which  Ik^  still  takes 
great  pride)  enabled  him  fully  to  accom])lish  his  purpose.  He 
lived  within  his  nutans,  and  di<l  not  cost  his  fath(>r  another 
farthing. 

Next  year  his  wages  wen*  inci-e!is<xj  to  fii'teen  shillings.  Il(! 
then  began  to  save  nu)iu(y.  Jic  d.  '  not  put  it  in  a  ba,id<,  l)ut 
used  his  savings  for  the  purpos(>  of  making  the  tools  with  which 
he  afterwards  commtMiced  .Msiness.  In  the  third  year  of  his 
service  his  wag(!S  were  again  ii  creascMl,  on  account,  doubth^ss, 
of  the  vahie  of  his  s(M•vi('(^s.  "I  don't  know."  he  has  since  said, 
"that  any  future  period  of  my  lif(5  abounded  in  sueh  high  enjoy- 
uiont  of  existeiuHi  as  the  threes  yiNirs  I  s|)ent  at  JNl  and  shy's.  It 
was  a  glorious  sitmttion  for  oiu»  like  myself  -so  (>arnest  as  I  was 
ill  all  that  rela,t(;d  to  nuH'hanism,  in  the  study  of  men  as  well  as 
of  machinery.  I  wish  many  a  young  man  would  do  as  I  t  ,  n 
ilid.  I  am  sure  thev  would  find  (heir  reward  in  that  feeliiur  of 
'onstant  improvenuint,  of  daily  advancement,  and  triu'  indepen- 


■n 


r, 


yr^ 


II  ii 


j.il 


iliy^i, 


H 


88 


Bridgewater  Foundry. 


[chap.  v. 


dence,  whicli  will  ever  have  a  cbariii  for  those  who  are  earnest 
in  their  endeavors  to  make  right  progress  in  life  and  in  the 
regard  of  all  good  men." 

After  three  years  spent  at  Maudsley's,  Mr.  Nasmyth  re- 
turned to  Edinburgii  to  construct  a  small  stock  of  engineering 
tools  suitable  for  starting  him  in  business  on  his  own  account. 
He  hired  a  workshop,  and  did  various  engineering  jobs,  in 
order  to  increase  his  little  store  of  money  and  to  execute  his 
little  stock  of  tools.  This  occupied  him  for  two  years;  and  in 
1834  he  removed  the  whoh;  of  his  tools  and  machinery  to 
Manchester.  He  began  business  there  in  a  very  humble  way, 
but  it  inci'eased  so  rapidly  that  he  was  induced  to  remove  to  a 
choice  piece  of  laiul  on  the  banks  of  tlui  Bridgewater  Canal  at 
Patricroft,  and  there  make  a  beginning — at  first  in  wooden 
sheds— of  the  now  famovis  Bridgewater  Foundry. 

"Theri',"  says  he,  "  I  toiled  right  heartily  until  December 
31st,  1856,  when  1  retii-ed  to  enjoy,  in  active  hnsure,  the  result 
of  many  an  anxious  and  inttsresting  day.  J.  had  there,  with  the 
blessing  of  God,  devoted  the  best  years  of  my  life  to  the  pur- 
suit of  a  business  of  which  J  was  ])r()ud.  Ami  1  trust  that, 
without  undim  vanity,  I  nuiy  hv,  allowed  to  say  that  I  hnve 
left  my  mark  ujton  sciverrd  useful  inventions,  which  probably 
have  had  no  small  share  in  the  uu^chanical  works  of  the  age. 
There  is  scarcely  a  steamship  or  locomotive  that  is  not  indebted 
to  my  steam-hamuu;r;  and  without  it,  Armstrong  and  Whit- 
worth  guns  and  iron-[)lated  nu^n-of-war  could  scarcely  have 
existed." 

But  though  Nasmyth  retired  from  business  at  the  age  of 
forty-eight,  lie  did  not  s(Hik  repose  in  idUuuws.  Ho  continues 
to  be  as  busy  as  the  busiest,  but  in  an  altogether  different 
(lirection.  Instead  of  biding  tied  to  the  earth,  he  (Mijoys  him- 
self auiong  the  stars.  By  means  of  IcleHcoptiS  of  his  own  mak- 
ing, he  has  investigated  the  sun,  and  discovercid  its  "  willow 
hiaves  ;"  h(^  has  examined  and  ph()tograi)hed  the  moon,  and  iii 
the  nionograj)h  of  it  which  he  has  published,  he  has  made  us 
fully  ac(piainted  with  its  geography.  He  is  also  a  thorough 
artist,  and  spends  a  (Considerable  portion  of  his  tinu)  in  paint- 
ing, though   he  is  too  nuxh^st  to  exhibit.     1'he    last   time   wh 


CHAP,  v.] 


Advice  to  Young  Men, 


89 


visited  liis  beautiful  liomo  at  Hammeriiekl,  he  was  Itnsy  polish- 
ing glasses  for  one  of  his  new  telescopes,  the  motive  })ower 
being  a  windmill  erected  on  one  of  his  outhouses. 

Another  word  before  we  have  done.  "  If,"  said  Nasm^'th, 
'' I  were  to  try  to  com[)r<'ss  into  on*^  sentence  the  whoki  of 
tiie  experience  T  have  had  during  an  active  and  successful  life, 
and  oiler  it  to  young  men  as  a  rnh^  and  certain  receipt  for  suc- 
cess in  any  station,  it  would  be  conipris(Ml  in  thesis  woids  : 
'Duty  Jii'fit  f  Pk^-isure  second!'  Ki-om  what  I  have  seen  of 
yoiuig  men  «nd  theii  iifter-progress,  1  am  satisfied  that  what 
is  gentn'ally  tenned  'bad-fortune,'  '  illduck,'  and  '  misfortuni^,' 
is,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  simply  the  ivsult  oi'  iurcrfin;/  tlu) 
above  sim[)le  maxim.  Sucli  ex|)erience  as  1  have  had  convinces 
iiu)  that  absencv>.  of  success  arisi!S,  in  tin;  great  majority  ofcascjs, 
from  want  of  sc^lf-denial  and  want  of  common  s(?ns(\  The 
worst  of  all  maxiujs  is  '  Ph^asure  /irst!  Work  and  Duty 
necond.'"' 


! 

i      ; 

j    ■    '%'■ 

1 

1  :,r 

;  r' 

i 

I 

:11 


,Vp»Wi 


/^'^e'^ 


CHAP,   VJ 


I  •ill 


OHAPTKR  V!. 


METHODS    OF    ECONOMY. 


•'It  was  with  profound  wisdom  that  tlic  J'omans  called  by  the  same 
name  courago  and  virtue.  Thi're  in,  in  fact,  no  virtue,  properly  so 
calletl,  without  v.'.'tory  over  ourselves;  and  what  costs  us  nothing,  is 
worth  nothing."  -I)K  Mai.s'ikk. 

"  Almost  all  the  advantages  which  man  possesses  above  the  inferior 
aninuils  arise  from  his  power  of  acting  in  c()nd)ination  with  his  fel- 
lows, and  of  accomplishing  by  the  united  ctl'orts  of  numbers  what 
could  not  be  accomplished  by  the  detatchcd  efVorts  of  individuals."— 
J.  S.  Mill. 

"  For  the  future,  our  main  security  will  be  in  the  wider  diflfusion  oi 
pr(»perty,  and  in  all  such  measures  as  will  facilitate  this  result.  With 
the  pcHscssion  of  ]iroi)orty  will  come  conservative  instincts,  and  dis- 
inclination for  rash  ;\nd  reckless  schtines  ....  We  trust  ivach,  there 
fore,  to  the  rural  p«)j)ulation  becoming  projirietors,  ant^  u)  the  urban 
population  becoming  capitalists." — W.  U.  (!l<EU. 

rpITE  incUiod.s  of  ])nicti8iiinf  economy  are  very  Hiinple.  Spend 
-*•  less  tbiiii  you  vnvu.  Thai  is  tin*  first  rulo.  A  portion 
shoiiUl  always  l>t'  set  npart  lor  the  tutiiro.  The  person  who 
speiulK  more  tliau  lie  ranis  is  a  fool.  Tl..  civil  law  rejjjards 
the  spendthrift  as  akin  to  t]ni  lunatic,  and  fn^piently  takes 
from  liim  tla^  management  <jf  liis  own  all'airs. 

TIk!  next  rule  is,  to  pay  ready  money,  and  nov(!r,  on  any 
a(H'ount,  to  r\in  into  dehi,  The  jx^rson  who  ruiLS  into  debt  is 
apt  to  set  cheated  ;  and  if  he  runs  into  debt  to  any  extent,  he 
will  himself  be  apt  to  ii;et  dishonest.  "  Who  pays  what  he 
ows,  enriches  himself." 

The  next  is,  never  to  anticipate  uncertain  prolits  by  (!X]>end 


ciiAr.  VI.] 


Keeping  Regular  Accounts. 


n 


ing  them  before  they  are  secured.  The  profits  may  never 
come,  and  in  that  case  you  will  have  taken  u})on  yourself  a 
load  of  debt  which  you  may  never  get  rid  of.  It  will  sit  \\\)0U 
your  shoulders  likis  the  old  man  in  Sinbad. 

Another  method  of  economy  is,  to  keep  a  regular  aceoimt  of 
ill)  that  you  earn  and  of  all  that  you  exjiend.  An  orderly  man 
will  know  beforehand  what  he  requires,  and  will  be  ])rovided 
with  the  nect!ssary  means  for  obtaining  it.  Thus  his  domestic 
hiulget  will  be  balanced,  and  his  expenditure  kept  within  hi.« 
income. 

John  Wesley  regularly  adopted  this  course.  Although  ho 
j)Ossessed  a  small  income,  he  always  kept  his  eyes  upon  the 
state  of  his  afi'airs.  A  year  before  his  death,  he  wrote,  with 
a  trembling  hantl,  in  his  Journal  of  Expenses  :  "  For  more 
than  eighty-six  years  I  have  kept  my  accounts  exactly.  I  do  not 
tare  to  continue  to  do  so  any  longer,  having  the  conviction  that 
I  ecouomizo  all  that  I  obtain,  and  give  all  that  T  can — that  is 
to  sny,  all  tiiat  I  have." 

Besides  these  methods  of  economy,  the  eye  of  the  master  or 
the  mistress  is  always  necessary  to  sei^  that  nothing  is  lost, 
that  everything  is  ])ut  to  its  proper  use,  and  that  all  things 
art)  done  decently  and  in  order,  It  does  no  dishonor  to  even 
tli(!  highest  individuals  to  take  a  personal  interest  in  their  own 
Mfliiirs.  And  with  persons  of  modtu'ate  means,  the  necessity 
for  tlie  eye  of  tlnj  master  overlooking  everything,  is  absolutely 
lU'ccssary  for  the  pro[)er  conduct  of  business. 

Jt  is  ditlicult  to  fix  tlio  precise  limits  of  economy.  Bacon 
Kiiys  that  if  a  man  would  live  well  within  his  income!,  he  ought 
not  to  expend  mor<!  than  one  h:df,  and  sav(^  tiie  if  st.  This  is 
IK'fhitps  too  exacting;  and  JJacon  himsi-jf  did  not  follow  iiis 
own  advice.  What  proportion  of  ont^'s  income  should  bo 
t'X|M'n(U'd  on  rent/  That  depends  u|)on  circumstances.  In  the 
loiintiv  about  oncvtenth  ;  in  JiOndon  about  one-sixth.  It  is, 
at  all  (Ncnts,  better  to  save  too  nuifh  ihan  spend  too  mu(!h. 
Olio  may  remedy  the  lirst  defcsct,  but  not  so  ciisily  tin;  latter. 
Wherever  there  is  ji  large  family,  the  more  money  that  is  put 
It)  one  side  and  .saved,  the  b(»tt<'r. 

Kcononiy  is  necessary  to  the  moderately   lii'h  as  well  ai  to 


r    u  I 


<■:■  I 


Vv 


'"  I 


^1; 


r- 


d 


m 


i4 


f  <  ■; 


lllfi 


!^ 


92 


Generof<Uy  and  Forefhatu/hf. 


[chap.  vr. 


the  comparatively  poor  man.  Without  economy,  a  man  can 
not  he  generous.  He  can  not  take  part  in  the  cliaritable  work 
of  the  world.  If  he  spends  all  that  he  trains  he  can  help  no- 
body. He  can  not  })ro{)erly  educate  his  childiHMi,  nor  ])ut  them 
in  the  way  of  starting  fairly  in  the  business  of  life.  Even  the 
example  of  Bacon  shows  that  the  loftiest  inUdligence  can  not 
neglect  tlirift  without  peril.  J>ut  thousands  of  witnesses  dailv 
testify  that  men  even  of  the  most  moderate  intelligence  «'an 
practise  the  virtue  with  success. 

Although  Knglishmen  are  a  diligent,  hard-working,  and 
generally  self-reliant  race,  trusting  to  themselves  and  their  own 
ertorts  for  their  s\istenance  and  advancenu'nt  in  the  world,  they 
are  yet  liable  to  overlook  and  neghict  soiuj'  of  the  best  ])raciicul 
metliods  of  improving  their  position  and  st;cnring  their  social 
well-being.  Tliey  ar(^  not  yet  sulliciently  <Mlncated  to  be  teni- 
))erate,  provident,  and  foreseeing.  Tiiey  live  for  the  j)resent, 
and  are  too  regardless  of  r.lu;  coming  time.  Men  who  are  liiis 
bands  and  parents  generally  think  they  do  their  duty  if  they 
jnovide  for  the  hour  that  is,  neglectful  of  the  hour  that  is  to 
come.  Though  industrious,  they  iire  improvident  ;  though 
money-making,  they  arc;  s])endthrift.  They  do  not  exercise 
forethought  enough,  and  are  debictive  in  the  virtue  of  prudent 
e<'onomy. 

Men  of  all  classes  are,  as  yet,  too  litth-  inthu-nced  by  these 
considerations.  They  nw  apt  to  live  beyond  their  incomes  at 
all  events,  to  live  uj)  to  them.  The  upp«u'  classes  live  too  nmcli 
for  display  ;  tlu'y  must  kee[)  up  tluMi-  "])osition  in  society;" 
they  must  have  fine  houses,  horses,  and  eaj'iiages ;  give  gdod 
dinnei-s,  and  drink  rii-h  wines  ;  their  ladies  must  wear  costly 
and  gay  dresses.  Thus  the  march  of  inipi'ovidenc  i«'s  on  over 
broken  hearts,  ruinecl  hopes,  ami  wasted  ambitioui,. 

The  vice  descends  in  society  :  tiie  middle  classes  strive  to 
ape  the  ])atrician  orders  ;  they  flourish  crests,  liveries,  and 
hammer-cloths  ;  their  daughters  must  lejii-n  "  aeeora;  lislinients, 
see  "  society,'  ride  and  drive,  f'r«'«|uent  operas  and  theatres. 
I>i8p!ay  is  the  rage,  anddtion  rivaling  antbition  ;  and  thus  tin 
vicious  folly  rolls  on  like  a  tide.  The  vice  again  d+*Hcends. 
The  working -claHses,  too,  live  up  to  their  means—  niuch  snialler 


CHAP.  VI 


at 
much 
!tv  ; 

g(nl(l 

•oHtly 
over 

,('  ti) 

't\tS,' 
kltVt'S 

Is  ti;i 


CHAP.  VI.] 


Pnidenl  Economy. 


9.1 


means,  it  is  true  ;  but  even  when  they  are  able,  they  are  not 
sutHciently  careful  to  provide  against  the  evil  day  ;  and  then 
only  the  poor-house  ofters  its  scanty  aid  to  j)rotect  them  against 
want. 

To  save  money  for  avaricious  juirposes  is  altogether  different 
froni  saving  it  for  economical  purposes.  The  saving  may  be 
accomplished  in  the  sanu;  manner — by  wasting  nothing  and 
sivving  everything.  But  heio  the  (•om[)arison  ends.  The 
miser's  only  pleasure  is  in  saving.  The  prudent  economist 
spends  what  he  can  atibrd  for  comfort  and  enjoyment,  and  saves 
a  surplus  for  some  future  time.  The  avaricious  person  makes 
;,'old  his  idol  :  it  is  his  molten  calf,  l>efore  which  he  constantly 
bows  down  ;  whereas  the  thrifty  i)er.sou  regards  it  as  a  useful 
instrument,  and  as  a  means  of  promoting  his  own  hapjtiness 
and  the  happiness  of  those  who  are  dcjjcndent  upon  him.  The 
miser  is  never  satisfied.  He  amasses  wealth  that  he  can  nc^ver 
consume,  but  leaves  it  to  l)e  S(iuand('red  by  others,  probably  by 
spendthrifts  ;  whereas  the  economist  aims  at  securing  a  fair 
share  of  the  worhl's  wealth  and  comfort,  without  any  thought 
of  amassing  a  fortune. 

It  is  the  duty  of  all  persons  to  ecouomi/e  their  moans  of 
the  young  as  well  as  of  the  old.  The  Duke  of  Sully  mcntiouH, 
in  his  "  Memoirs,"  that  nothing  couti-ibuted  more  to  his  fortune 
than  l-iio  [)rudent  (>conomy  whi(rh  iui  practised,  even  in  his 
vouth,  of  always  preserving  some  ready  money  in  hand  for  the 
jiurpose  of  meeting  circumstances  of  emergency.  Is  a  man 
married?  Then  tln^  duty  of  economy  is  still  more  bimling. 
Ilia  wife  and  children  plead  to  him  most  elo«|uently.  Are 
thoy,  in  the  event  of  his  I'arly  death,  to  bo  left  to  butVet  with 
tho  world  unaiih^l  \  The  hand  of  charity  Ih  cold,  the  gifts  of 
'liiuity  are  vahuiless  compmcd  with  the  gains  (;f  industry  and 
tlin  honest  savings  of  frugal  labor,  which  carry  with  them  com- 
turta,  without 'inllicting  any  wound  upon  the  feelings  of  the 
lit'ipless  and  bert^aved.  Let  (ncry  mm,  therefore,  who  <-an, 
•iideavor  to  economi/.(^  and  to  save  ;  not  to  hoard,  but  to  luirse 
liis  little  savings,  for  the  sake  of  promoting  the  welfare  and 
liiippiness  of  hinisclf  whih^  here,  ajid  of  oIIum's  wlieti  he  has 
I'partvd, 


i  !■ 


)    i 


U4 


A  Diynity  in  Saving. 


[chap.  VI. 


li 

m 

1; 

4 

1 

M 

1 

m 

There  is  a  dignity  in  the  very  eflbrt  to  save  with  a  worthy 
purpose,  even  though  the  attem[:t  should  not  be  crowned  with 
eventual  success.  It  produces  a  well-regulated  mind  ;  it  gives 
prudence  a  triumph  over  extravagance  ;  it  gives  virtue  the 
mastery  over  vice  ;  it  puts  the  })assions  under  control  ;  it  drives 
away  care ;  it  secures  comfort.  Saved  money,  however  little, 
will  serve  to  dry  up  many  a  tear — will  ward  off'  many  sorrows 
anl  heart-burnings,  which  otherwise  might  prey  upon  us. 
Possessed  of  a  little  store  of  capital,  a  man  walks  with  a  lighter 
.step,  his  heart  beats  more  cheerily.  VVhen  interruption  of 
work  or  adversity  happens,  he  can  meet  it ;  he  can  recline  on 
his  capital,  which  will  either  break  his  fall  or  prevent  it  alto- 
gether. By  prudential  economy,  we  can  realize  the  dignity  of 
man  ;  life  will  be  a  blessing,  and  old  age  an  honor.  We  can 
ultimately,  under  a  kind  Providence,  surrender  life,  conscious 
that  we  have  been  no  burden  \ij)on  society,  but  rather,  perhaps, 
an  acquisition  and  ornament  to  it ;  conscious,  also,  that,  as  we 
have  been  independent,  o\ir  children  after  us,  by  following  our 
exam])le  and  availing  themselves  of  the  means  we  have  left 
behind  us,  will  walk  in  like  manner  through  the  world  in 
liappiness  and  independence. 

Every  man's  first  duty  is,  to  imjjrove,  to  educate,  and  eleA  ate 
himself,  helping  forward  his  brethren  at  the  same  time  by  all 
reasonable  methods.  Each  has  within  himself  the  capability  of 
free-will  and  free  action  to  a  large  (^\tent  ;  and  the  fact  is 
proved  by  the  midtitudo  of  men  who  have  successfully  battled 
with  and  ov(!rcome  the  adverse  circumstances  of  life  in  which 
they  have  been  placed  ;  and  who  have  risen  from  the  lowest 
dej)ths  of  poverty  and  social  debasement,  as  if  to  prove  what 
energetic  man,  resolute  of  [)urpose,  can  do  for  his  own  elevation, 
pi'ogress,  and  a<lvancement  in  the  world.  Is  it  not  a  fact  that 
the  greatness  of  luimiUiit)',  tlw>  glory  of  communities,  the  })ower 
of  nations,  are  the  result  of  trials  and  difliculties  encountered 
and  overcouK!  1 

Let  a  man  resolve  and  dtit(n-mine  that  lie  will  advance,  and 
the  first  stej)  of  ad\'ancement  is  already  made.  The  first  step  is 
half  the  battle,  in  the  very  fact  of  advancing  himself,  be  is  in 
the    most   eti'ecluul    possible    way    ad\aneing    others.      He   is 


giving  i 
which  1 
He  is  d( 


CHAP.  VI.] 


SeJf-improvement. 


95 


giving  them  the  most  eloquent  of  all  lessons — that  of  example  ; 
which  teaches  far  more  emphatically  than  words  can  teacli. 
He  is  doing  what  others  are  by  imitation  incited  to  do.  Begin- 
ning with  himself,  he  is  in  the  most  emphatic  manner  teaching 
the  duty  of  self-reform  and  of  self-improvement ;  and  if  the 
majority  of  men  acted  as  he  did,  how  lUuch  wiser,  how  uiuch 
happier,  how  much  more  ])rosperous,  as  a  whole,  would  society 
become  !  For,  society  being  made  up  of  units,  \<ill  be  happy 
and  prosperous,  or  the  rev«n'se,  exactly  in  the  same  degree  as  the 
respective  individuals  who  com|)ose  it. 

Complaints  about  the  inei|uality  of  conditions  are  as  old  as 
the  world.  Jn  the  "  Economy"  of  Xenophon,  Socrates  asks, 
"  How  is  it  that  some  men  live  in  abundance,  and  have  some- 
thing to  spare,  while  others  can  scarctdy  ol)tain  the  necessaries 
of  life,  and  at  the  same  time  run  into  debt  I"  "  The  reason  ia," 
replied  Isomachus,  "  because  the  former  occupy  themselves 
Avith  their  business,  while  the  latter  neglect  it." 

The  dirterence  between  men  consists,  for  the  niost  part,  in 
intelligence,  conduct,  and  energy.  Tlu^  best  character  never 
works  by  chance,  but  is  under  the  influence  of  virtue,  prudence, 
and  forethought. 

There  are,  of  course:,  many  failunvs  in  the  worM.  The  man 
who  looks  to  others  for  lujlp,  instead  of  relying  on  himself,  will 
fail.  The  man  who  is  undergoing  the  process  of  perj)etual 
waste  will  fail.  The  miser,  the  scrub,  the  extravagant,  tin? 
tlu-iftless,  will  necessarily  fail.  Indeed,  most  people  fail 
because  they  do  not  deserve  to  s»icc(^ed.  Thty  set  about  their 
work  in  the  wrong  way,  and  no  amount  of  ex[»erience  seems  to 
improve  them.  There  is  not  so  niuch  in  luck  as  some  })eoplo 
profess  to  believe.  Luck  is  only  another  word  for  good 
management  in  practical  allairs.  Ivielielieu  used  to  say  that 
lit!  would  not  continue  to  emjiloy  an  unlucky  man — in  other 
words,  a  man  wanting  in  practical  (pialities,  and  uuiible  to 
Ijvotlt  by  exjKirience  ;  for  failures  in  the  past  are  very  often  the 
iuiguri(»s  of  failures  in  the  future. 

Home  of  the  best  and  ablest  of  men  ar«!  wanting  in  tact. 
They  will  neither  make  allowance  for  ciicumstanees,  nor  adapt 
theni'jclves    to    cirouuiolances  :    they    will    insist  mu   tryinij^  to 


I 


h 
I 

M 


^1 


V 


■J 


^1- 


i  J,«i 

Mil; 

m 

III  ! 


•   ••  i  It 

I     ,  IS    " 


i 


I: 


96 


The  Price  of  Success. 


[chap.  VI. 


%\' 


III 


drive  their  wedge  the  broad  end  foremost.  They  raise  walls 
only  to  rnn  their  own  heads  against.  They  make  such  great 
preparations,  and  use  such  great  ])recautions,  that  they  defeat 
their  own  object — like  the  Dutchnmn  mentioned  b}'^  Washing- 
ton Irving,  who,  having  to  leap  a  ditch,  went  so  far  back  to 
have  a  good  run  at  it,  that  when  he  came  up  he  was  completely 
winded,  and  had  to  sit  down  on  the  wrong  side  to  recover  his 
breath. 

In  actual  life,  we  want  things  done,  not  preparations  for 
doing  it ;  and  we  naturally  prefer  the  man  who  has  definite 
aims  and  purposes,  and  proceeds  in  the  straightest  and  shortest 
way  to  accomplish  his  olgect,  to  the  one  who  describes  the 
thing  to  be  done,  and  spins  fine  phrases  about  doing  it. 
Without  action,  words  are  mere  maundering. 

The  desire  for  success  in  the  world,  and  even  for  the 
accumulation  of  money,  is  not  without  its  uses.  It  has 
doubtless  been  implanted  in  the  human  heart  for  good  rather 
than  for  evil  purposes.  Indeed,  the  desire  to  accumulate 
forms  one  of  the  most  powerful  instruments  for  the  regenera- 
tion of  society.  Jt  provi»les  the  basis  for  individual  energy 
and  activity.  It  is  the  beginning  of  maritime  and  commercial 
enterprise.  It  is  the  foundation  of  industry,  as  well  as  of 
independence.  Jt  impels  men  to  labour,  to  invent,  and  to 
excel. 

No  idle  or  thriftless  man  ever  became  great.  It  is  among 
those  who  never  lost  a  moment  that  we  find  the  men  who  have 
moved  and  advanced  the  world — by  their  learning,  their 
science,  or  their  inventions.  Labor  of  some  sort  is  one  of  the 
conditions  of  existence.  The  thought  has  come  down  to  us 
from  }>agan  times,  that  "  labor  is  the  price  which  the  gods  have 
set  upon  all  that  is  excellent."  The  thought  is  also  worthy  of 
Christian  times. 

Every  thing  (lo])en<ls,  as  we  shall  afterward  find,  upon  the 
uses  to  which  accumulations  of  wealth  are  applied.  On  the 
tombstone  of  John  Donough,  of  Now  Orleans,  the  following 
maxims  are  engraved  as  the  merchant's  guide  to  young  men  on 
their  way  through  life  : 


"Tiir 

account. 

"Do 

"Nev 

"Nev 

"  Nev 

"  Nev 

"Nev( 

"  Do  1] 

"  Let  j 

"Stud 

.  "  Depr 

live  in  h( 

"Labo 


a< 


r 


CHAP.  VI.] 


Power  of  Combining. 


97 


"  Remember  always  that  labor  is  one  of  the  conditions  of  our  exist- 
ence. 

"  Time  is  gold  ;  throw  not  one  minute  away,  but  place  each  one  to 
account, 

"  Do  unto  all  men  as  j'ou  would  be  done  by. 

"  Never  put  ott"  till  to-morrow  what  can  be  done  to-day. 

"Never  bid  another  do  what  you  can  do  yourself. 

"  Never  covet  what  is  not  your  own. 

"  Never  think  any  matter  so  triHing  as  not  to  deserve  notice. 

"Never  give  out  what  does  not  come  in. 

"  Do  not  spend,  but  produce. 

"  Let  the  greatest  order  regulate  the  actions  of  your  life. 

"  Study  in  your  course  of  life  to  do  the  greatest  amount  of  good. 

"  Deprive  yourself  of  notliing  that  is  necessary  to  your  comfort,  but 
live  in  honorable  simplicity  and  frugality, 

"  Labor,  then,  to  the  last  moment  of  your  existence." 


1*1  I 


!  I 


Most  men  liave  it  in  their  power,  by  i)rucl(»iit  arrangements, 
to  defend  themselves  against  adversity,  and  to  throw  u[»  a 
barrier  against  destitntion.  Tliey  can  do  this  by  their  own 
individual  efforts,  or  by  acting  on  the  })rinciplo  of  co-operation, 
which  is  capable  of  an  almost  inch^tinite  extension.  People  of 
the  most  humble  condition,  by  conibining  tlieir  means  and 
associating  together,  are  enabled  in  many  ways  to  defend  them- 
selves against  the  pressure  of  poverty,  to  promote  their 
physical  well-being,  and  even  to  advance  the  progress  of  the 
nation. 

A  solitary  individual  may  be  able  to  do  very  little  to  advance 
and  improve  society  ;  but  when  lie  combines  with  his  fellows 
for  the  purpose,   he   can  do  a  very 


Itself  is  but  the 
"almost  all   the 


effect  of  combining, 
advantaires    which 


great 
Mr. 
man 


deal.  Civilization 
Mill  has  said  that 
possiNSses   over   the 


inferior  animals  arise  from  his  power  of  acting  in  combination 
with  his  fellows,  and  of  accomplishing,  by  the  unitinl  efforts  of 
numbers,  what  could  not  be  accomplislied  by  the  detached 
efforts  of  individuals." 

The  secret  of  social  develoj)ment  is  to  be  found  in  co- 
operatioji ;  and  the  great  cpiestion  of  improved  economical  and 
social  life  can  only  receive  a  satisfactory  solution  througii  its 
means.  To  effect  good  on  a  large  scale,  men  must  coml)ino 
their  efforts ;  and  the  best  social  system  is  that  in  which  the 


'    ■  t 


Ml 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


IIIM 

illM 

m 

li  ■<  0 


IIIM 

III  2.2 
|20 

1.8 


1.25 

1.4 

1.6 

<« 6"     — 

► 

^^ 


V) 


VI 


cr-; 


"sS 


///, 


O;;- 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  >TREET 

WEBSTER,  NY    M580 

(716)  872-4504 


(/j 


98 


I'rmciple  of  Association. 


[chap.  VI. 


organization  for  the  common  good  is  rendered  the  most  corn- 
plete  in  all  respects. 

The  middle  clnsses  have  largely  employed  the  principle  of 
association.  No  class  has  risen  so  ra])idly,  or  done  more  by 
their  energy  and  industry  to  advance  the  power  and  progress 
of  England.  And  Avhy  1  ]^ecause  the  most  active  have 
always  been  the  most  ready  to  associate,  to  co-operate,  and 
to  combine,  Tliey  have  combined  when  they  were  attacked, 
combined  when  they  had  an  abuse  to  destroy,  or  a  great 
object  to  accomplish.  They  have  associated  together  to 
manufacture  articles  of  commerce,  to  make  canals,  to  construct 
railways,  to  foi/m  gas  companies,  to  institute  insurance  and 
banking  comi)anies,  and  to  do  an  immense  amount  of 
industrial  work.  By  combining  their  small  capitals  together, 
they  have  been  able  to  accumidate  an  enormous  aggregate 
ca|)ital,  and  to  execute  the  most  gigantic  undertakings. 

The  middle  classes  have  accom])lished  more  by  the  principle 
of  co-operation  than  the  classes  who  have  so  much  greater  need 
of  it.  All  the  joint-stock  companies  are  the  result  of  associa- 
tion. The  railways,  the  telegraplis,  the  banks,  the  mines,  the 
manufactories,  have  for  the  most  part  been  established  and  are 
carried  on  by  means  of  the  savings  of  the  middle  classes. 

The  working-classes  have  only  begun  to  employ  the  same 
])rincii)le.  Yet  how  much  might  tlu^y  accomplish  by  itsmeunsl 
They  might  co-operate  in  saving  as  well  as  in  producing.  They 
might,  by  putting  their  saved  earnings  together,  become,  by 
combination,  their  own  masters.  Within  a  few  years  past, 
many  millions  sterling  have  been  expended  in  strikes  for  wages. 
A  hundred  millions  a  year  are  thrown  away  upon  drink  and 
other  unnecessary  ai'ticles.  Here  is  an  enormous  capital.  Men 
who  expend  or  waste  such  an  amount  can  easily  beconu)  capital- 
ists. It  re(piires  only  will,  energy,  and  s(df-denial.  So  much 
money  spcint  on  buildings,  })lant,  and  steam-engines  would 
enable  them  to  manufacture  for  themselves,  instead  of  for  tlic 
benefit  of  individual  capitalists.  The  steam-engine  is  impartial 
in  its  services.  Tt  is  no  i-espector  of  persons ;  it  will  work  for 
the  benefit  of  the  lai)orer  as  well  as  for  the  benefit  of  the  million- 
aire. It  will  work  best  for  those  who  make  the  best  uso  of  it, 
and  wlio  have  the  gn^atest  knowledge  of  its  powers. 


CHAP. 


VI.] 


Savings  of  Capital. 


99 


The  greater  number  of  workmen  possess  little  capital  save 
their  labor;  and,  as  we  have  already  seen,  man/  of  them  use- 
lessly and  wastefully  si)end  most  of  their  earnings,  instead  of 
saving  them  and  becoming  capitalists.  By  combining  in  large 
numbers  for  the  purposes  of  economical  working,  the}'  might 
easily  become  capitalists,  and  operate  upon  a  large  scale.  As 
society  is  now  constituted,  every  man  is  not  only  justified,  but 
bound  in  duty  as  a  citizen,  to  accumulate  his  earnings  by  all 
fair  and  honorable  methods,  with  the  view  of  securing  a  position 
of  ultimate  competence  and  i.idependence. 

We  do  not  say  that  men  should  save  and  hoard  their  gains 
for  the  mere  sake  of  saving  and  hoarding  :  that  would  be  parsi- 
mony and  avarice.  But  we  do  say  that  all  men  ought  to  aim 
at  accumulating  a  sufficiency  ;  enough  to  maintain  them  in  com- 
fort during  the  helpless  years  tliat  are  to  come;  to  maintain 
them  in  time  of  sickness  and  of  sorrow,  and  in  old  age,  which, 
if  it  does  come,  ought  to  tind  them  with  a  little  store  of  cjipital 
in  hand,  sufficient  to  secure  them  from  dependence  upon  the 
charity  of  others. 

Workmen  are  for  the  most  part  disj)Osed  to  associate;  but  the 
association  is  not  always  of  a  healthy  kind.  It  sometimes  takes 
the  form  of  unions  against  masters ;  and  displays  itself  in  the 
strikes  that  are  so  common,  and  usually  so  unfortunate.  Work- 
men also  strike  against  men  of  their  own  class,  for  the  pvu'imse 
ot  excluding  tiiem  from  their  special  calling.  One  of  the  prin- 
cipal objects  of  trades-unions  is  to  keep  uj)  wages  at  the  expense 
of  the  lower-paid  and  unassociated  working-{)eople.  They  en- 
deavor to  prevent  j)Oorer  men  beaming  their  tiado,  and  thus 
keep  the  supply  of  labor  below  the  demand.*  This  system  may 
last  for  a  time,  but  it  becomes  ruinous  \n  the  end. 


*  On  the  3l8t  of  Jamiary,  187f>,  a  laborer  in  tho  employment  of 
Messrs.  Vinkera,  Shelfiolil,  who  hn.a  not  served  an  ajjprenticeKhip,  was 
put  oil  to  turn  one  of  tlie  hvthes.  This  l)eiiig  contrary  to  tho  rules  of 
the  union,  the  men  in  tho  shop  struck  work.  It  is  a  usual  course  for 
men  of  tho  union  to  "strike'  in  this  manner  against  ])orson3  of  their 
own  condition,  and  to  exercise  a  force  not  resting  in  law  or  natural 
right,  but  merely  on  tho  will  of  a  majority,  and  directly  suhvorsive  of 
tho  freedom  of  the  individual. 


I 


Vl 


r  fi 


t    •.i 


M 


II ' » 


100 


Money  Thrown  Away. 


[chap.  VI. 


It  is  not  the  want  of  money  that  prevents  skilled  workmen 
from  becoming  capitalists,  and  opening  the  door  for  the  employ- 
ment of  laboring  men  who  are  poorer  and  less  skilled  than 
themselves.  The  work-people  threw  away  half  a  million  ster- 
ling during  the  Preston  strike,  after  which  they  went  back  to 
work  at  the  old  terms.  The  London  building  trades  threw 
away  over  three  hundred  thousand  pounds  during  their  strike; 
and  even  had  they  obtained  the  terms  for  which  they  struck,  it 
would  have  taken  six  years  to  recoup  them  for  their  loss.  The 
colliers  in  the  Forest  of  Dean  went  back  to  work  at  the  old 
terms  after  eleven  weeks'  play,  at  the  loss  of  fifty  thousand 
pounds.  The  iron- workers  of  Nothumberland  and  Durham, 
after  spending  a  third  of  the  year  in  idleness,  and  losing  tv/o 
iiundred  thousand  pounds  in  wages,  went  back  to  work  at  a 
reduction  of  ten  per  cent.  The  colliers  and  iron-workers  of 
South  Wales,  during  tiie  recent  strike  or  lock  out,  were  idle  for 
four  months,  and,  according  to  Lord  Aberdare,  lost,  in  wages 
alone,  not  less  than  three  millions  sterling! 

Here,  then,  is  abundance  of  money  within  the  power  of  work- 
ing-men—money which  they  might  utilize,  but  do  not.  Think 
only  of  a  solitary  million,  out  of  the  three  millions  sterling 
which  they  threw  away  during  the  coal  strike,  being  devoted 
to  the  st^irting  of  collieries,  or  iron  mills,  or  manufactories,  to 
be  worked  by  co-operative  producition  for  the  benefit  of  the  opera- 
tives themselves.  With  frugal  habits,  says  Mr.  Greg,  the  well- 
conditioned  workman  might  in  ten  years  easily  have  five  hundred 
})Ounds  in  the  bank;  and,  combining  his  savings  with  twenty 
other  men  similarly  disposed,  they  might  have  ten  thousand 
pounds  for  the  ])urposo  of  starting  any  manufacture  in  which 
they  are  adepts.'*' 

*  " 'J'ho  annual  expenditure  of  the  working  classes  alone,  on  drink 
and  tobaeco,  is  not  less  tlian  ,1)00,000,000.  ]']very  year,  therefore,  the 
working-classes  have  it  in  their  power  to  become  capitalists  (simplii  h;i 
saving  irnsfc/ii/  <nid  pernicious  t'.rpindilurc)  to  an  extent  which  would 
enable  them  to  start  at  least  five  huiulred  cotton-mills,  or  coal-mines, 
or  iron-works,  i>n  llnii'  mm  (irnuni/y  or  to  purehaso  at  least  500,00(1 
acres,  and  so  set  up  50,000  families  eaoli  with  a  nice  little  estate  of  their 
own  of  ten  aeres,  on  fee  simple,  ^o  one  can  dispute  tlie  facts.  No  one 
can  deny  the  inference."     (fhiarfrr/t/  Jirricir,  Mo.  203. 


CHAP.  VI. 


CHAP.   VI.] 


Industrud  Societies. 


101 


That  this  is  not  an  impracticable  scheme  is  capable  of  being 
easily  proved.  The  practice  of  co-operation  has  long  been 
adopted  by  work-people  throughout  England.  A  large  propor- 
tion of  the  fishery  industiy  has  been  conducted  on  that  principle 
for  hundreds  of  years.  Fishernienjoin  in  building,  rigging,  and 
manning  a  boat;  the  proceeds  of  the  fish  they  catch  at  sea  is 
divided  among  them — so  much  to  the  boat,  so  much  to  the 
tishernien.  The  company  of  oyster-dredgers  of  Whitstable 
"has  existed  time  out  of  mind,"*  though  it  was  only  in  1793 
that  they  were  incorjiorated  by  Act  of  Parliament.  The  tin- 
miners  of  Cornwall  liave  also  acted  on  the  same  principle. 
They  have  mined,  washed,  and  sold  the  tin,  dividing  the  pro- 
ceeds among  themselves  in  certain  propoi-tions — most  probably 
from  the  time  that  the  Ph<enicians  carried  away  the  produce 
to  their  ports  in  the  IVlediterranean. 

In  our  own  time  co-operation  has  been  practised  to  a  consider- 
able extent.  In  1795,  the  Hull  Anti-Mill  Industrial  Society 
was  founded.  The  reasons  for  its  association  are  explained  in 
the  petition  addressed  to  the  mayor  and  aldermen  of  Hull  by 
the  first  meml)ers  of  the  society.  The  j)etition  begins  thus : 
"We,  the  poor  inhabitants  of  the  said  town,  have  lately  experi- 
(^'iiced  much  trouble  and  sorrow  in  ourselves  and  families,  on 
the  occasion  of  the  exorbitant  price  of  flour ;  and  though  i  he 
price  is  much  reduced  at  present,  yet  we  judge  it  needful  to 
tiike  every  precaution  to  preserve  ourselves  fx*om  the  invasions 
of  covetous  and  merciless  men  in  the  future."  They  accordingly 
entered  into  a  subscription  to  build  a  mill,  in  order  to  supply 
themselves  with  flour.  The  corporation  granted  their  petition, 
iiiul  supported  them  by  liberal  donations.  The  mill  was  built, 
iuid  exists  to  this  day.  It  now  consists  of  more  than  four  thou- 
jsiuid  members,  each  holding  a  share  of  twenty-five  shillings. 
The  members  belong  principally  to  the  laboring-classes.  The 
I  millers  endeavored  l>y  action  at  law  to  ])ut  down  the  society, 
liut  the  attempt  was  successfully  resisted.  The  society  manu- 
tiictures  Hour,  an<l  sells  it  to  the  members  at  market  price, 
ilividiugtho  profits  annually  among  the  share-holders,  according 


■  "R'jports  on  tho  I'aris  Universal  KKhibition,  18(57,"  vol.  vi.,  p.  '252. 


:.    1! 


i  =1 


!  ^m\  \ 


Vi        1-5/     J 


:  , 


:u  I 


Sim  I  I .  ■M«iH.  ini.Kui  viiitijiwinw^mp.  jw',.'w>wiii!>i^<pn<pfi^vi^ 


102 


Eqtdtahle  Pioneers. 


[chap.  VI. 


CHAP.  VI 


to  the  quantity  consumed  in  each  member's  family.    The  society 
has  proved  eminently  remunerative. 

Many  years  passed  before  the  example  of  the  "  poor  inhabi- 
tants" of  Hull  was  followed.  It  was  only  in  1847  that  the 
co-operators  of  Leeds  purchased  a  flour  mill,  and  in  1850  that, 
those  of  Rochdale  did  the  same ;  since  which  time  they  have 
manufactured  flour  for  jhe  benefit  of  their  members.  The 
corn-millers  of  Leeds  attempted  to  tindei-sell  tlie  Leeds  Indus- 
trial Society.  They  soon  ffiiled,  and  the  price  of  flour  was 
permanently  reduced.  The  Leeds  mill  does  business  amounting 
to  more  than  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  yearly  ;  its  capitol 
amounts  to  twenty-two  thousand  })ounds  ;  and  it  paid  more 
than  eight  thousand  pounds  of  profits  f.nd  bonuses  to  its  three 
thousand  six  hundred  members  in  18G6,  besides  supplying 
them  with  flour  of  the  best  quality.  Tlie  Rochdale  District 
Co-operative  Corn-mill  Society  has  also  been  eminently  success- 
ful. It  supplies  flour  to  consumers  residing  within  a  radius  of 
about  fifteen  miles  round  Roclidalo.*  It  also  supplies  flour  to 
sixty-two  co-operative  societies,  numbering  over  twelve  thou- 
sand members.  Its  business  in  18GG  amounted  to  two  hundred 
and  twenty-four  thousand  pounds,  and  its  proftts  to  over 
eighteen  thousand  pounds. 

The  Rochdalo  Corn-mill  grew  out  of  the  Rochdale  Equitahle 
Pioneers'  Society,  which  formed  an  ej)och  in  the  history  of  in- 
dustrial co-operative  institutions.  The  Equitable  Pioneei-s' 
Society  was  established  in  the  year  1814,  at  a  time  when  trado 
was  in  a  very  bad  condition,  and  working-people  generally  were 
heartless  and  hopeless  as  to  their  future  state.  Son^e  twenty- 
eight  or  thirty  men,  mostly  flannel-weavers,  met  anil  formed 
themselves  into  a  society  for  the  purposes  of  economizing  their 
hard-won  earnings.  It  is  [)retty  well  known  that  working-men 
gcmerally  pay  at  least  fea  per  cent,  more  for  the  articles  they 
consume  than  they  need  to  do  under  a  sounder  system.  Pro- 
fessor Fawcett  estimates  their  loss  at  nearer  twenty  per  cent. 
than  ten  per  cent.  At  all  events,  these  working-men  wished 
to  Have   this  amount  of  profit,   which   before   went   into  the 

*  Its  history  is  given  in  the  Keports  above  referred  to,  p.  269. 


Pif 


CHAP.  VI.] 


News  and  Reading  Rooms. 


103 


pockets  of  the  distributors  of  the  necessaries — in  other  words, 
into  the  pockets  of  the  shop-keepers. 

The  weekly  subscription  was  twopence  each;  and  wlien 
about  fifty-two  calls  of  twopence  each  had  been  made,  they 
found  that  were  able  to  buy  a  sack  of  oatmeal,  which  they  dis- 
tributed at  cost  nrice  among  the  members  of  the  society.  The 
number  of  members  grew,  and  the  subscription  so  increased 
that  the  society  was  enabled  to  buy  tea,  sugar,  and  other  articles, 
and  distribute  them  among  the  membei's  at  cost  price.  They 
superseded  the  shop-keepers,  and  became  their  own  tradesmen. 
They  insisted  from  the  first  on  payments  in  cash.     No  credit 


was  given. 


The  society  grev/.  It  established  a  store  for  the  sale  of  food, 
firing,  clothes,  and  other  necessaries.  In  a  few  years  the 
members  set  on  foot  the  Co-operative  Corn-mill.  They  in- 
creased the  capital  by  the  issue  of  one  pound  shares  and 
began  to  make  and  sell  clothes  and  shoes.  They  also  sold 
drapery.  But  the  principal  trade  consisted  in  the  purchase  and 
sale  of  provisions — butcher's  meat,  groceries,  flour,  and  such- 
like. Notwithstanding  the  great  distress  during  the  period 
of  the  cotton  famine,  the  society  continued  to  prosper.  From 
the  first,  .it  set  apart  a  portion  of  its  funds  for  educational 
purposes,  and  established  a  news-room,  and  a  library,  which 
now  contains  over  six  thousand  volumes. 

The  society  continued  to  increase  until  it  possessed  eleven 
branches  for  the  sale  of  goods  and  stores  in  or  near  Kochdale,  be- 
sides the  original  office  in  Toad  Lane.  At  the  end  of  1866,  it  had 
six  thousand  two  hundred  and  forty-six  memV)ers,  and  a  capital 
of  ninety-nine  thousand  nine  hundred  and  eight  i>()un(ls.  Its 
income  for  goods  sold  and  cash  rectnved  during  the  y(?ar  was 
two  hundred  and  forty-nine  thousand  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
two  pounds ;  and  the  gross  profit  thirty-one  thousand  nine 
hundred  and  thirty-one  pouiuls. 

But  this  was  not  all.  Two  and  a  half  per  cent,  were  appropri- 
ated from  the  net  profits  to  support  the  news-rooms  and  library  ; 
and  there  are  now  eleven  news  and  reading  rooms  at  different 
places  in  or  near  the  town  where  the  society  carries  on  its 
business ;  the  sum  devoted  to  this  object  amounting  to  over 


»i   ;  „ 


<V 


104 


Darwen  Co-operatives. 


II' 


n 


I   fy 


CHAP.  VI.]     ■    CHAP.  VI.] 


seven  hundred  pounds  per  annum.  The  members  play  at  chess 
and  draughts,  and  use  the  stereoscopic  views,  microscopes,  and 
telescopes  placed  in  the  libraries.  No  special  arragements  have 
been  made  to  promote  temperance ;  but  the  news-rooms  and 
library  exercise  a  powerful  and  beneficial  influence  in  promo- 
ting sobriety.  It  has  been  said  that  the  society  has  done  more 
to  remove  drunkenness  from  Rochdale  than  all  that  the  advo- 
cates of  temperance  have  been  able  to  effect. 

Tiie  example  of  the  Ilochdale  Pioneers  has  exercised  a 
{)owerful  influence  on  working-men  throughout  the  northern 
counties  of  England.  There  is  scarcely  a  town  or  village  but 
has  a  co-operative  institution  of  one  kind  or  another.  These 
societies  have  promoted  habits  of  saving,  of  thrift,  and  of 
temperance.  They  have  given  the  people  an  interest  in  money 
matters  and  enabled  them  to  lay  out  their  earnings  to  the  best 
advantage.  They  have  also  given  the  working-people  some 
knowledge  of  business ;  foi'  the  whole  of  their  concerns  are 
managed  by  committees  selected  at  the  general  meetings  of  the 
members. 

One  of  the  most  flourishing  co-operative  societies  is  that 
established  at  Over  Uarwen.  The  society  has  erected  a  row  of 
handsome  buildings  in  the  centre  of  the  town.  The  shops  for 
the  sale  of  provisions,  groceries,  clothing,  and  other  necessaries 
occupy  the  lower  story.  Over  the  shops  are  the  library,  read- 
ing-rooms, and  class-rooms,  which  are  open  to  the  membei-s 
and  their  families.  The  third  story  consists  of  a  large  pubHc 
hall,  which  is  used  for  lectures,  concerts,  and  dances.  There 
are  six  branches  of  the  society  established  in  different  parts  of 
the  town.  A  large  amount  of  business  is  done,  and  the  pro- 
fits are  very  considerable.  These  arc  divided  among  the  mem- 
bers, in  proportion  to  the  purchases  made  by  them.  The  profits 
are  for  the  niost  ])art  re-invested  in  joint-stock  paper-mills, 
cotton-mills,  and  collieries,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Darwen. 
One  of  the  most  praiseworthy  features  of  the  society  is  the 
provision  made  for  the  free  education  of  the  members  and  their 
families.  Two  and  a  half  i)er  cent,  of  the  profits  are  appro- 
f)riated  for  the  purpose.  While  inspecting  the  institution  a 
few  months  ago,  we  were  informed  that  the  science  classes 


CHAP.  VI.] 


Spread  of  Co-operation. 


105 


were  so  efficiently  conducted  that  one  of  the  pupils  liad 
just  obtained  a  Government  scholarship  of  fifty  pounds  a  year, 
for  three  years,  including  free  instruction  at  the  Scliool  of 
Mines,  Jermyn  Street,  London,  with  a  free  use  of  the  labora- 
tories during  that  period.  There  are  also  two  other  co-operative 
institutions  in  the  same  place  ;  and  we  were  informed  tliat  the 
working-people  of  Darwen  are,  for  the  most  part,  hard-working, 
sober,  and  thrifty. 

The  example  has  also  spread  into  Scotland  and  the  South  of 
England.  At  Northampton,  a  co-operative  society  exists  for 
the  purpose  of  buying  and  selling  leather,  and  also  for  the 
manufacture  of  boots  and  shoes.  At  Padiham  and  other  ])laoes 
in  Lancashire,  co-operative  cotton-mills  have  been  establislied. 
The  Manchester  and  Salford  Equitable  Co-operative  Society 
"combines  the  securities  and  facilities  of  a  bank  with  the  profits 
jf  a  trade."  But  the  business  by  which  it  mostly  thrives,  is  by 
the  purchase  and  sale  of  food,  provisions,  groceries,  dra})eiies 
and  other  articles,  with  the  exception  of  intoxicating  liquors. 

The  sole  secret  of  its  success  consists  in  "  resuly  money,"     It 
gives  no  credit.     Everything  is  done  for  cash,  the  ju-ofit  of  the 
trade  being  divided  among  the  members.     Every  business  man 
knows  that  cash  payment  is  the  soundest  method  of  conducting 
business  :  the  liochdale  Pioneers  having  discovered  the  secret, 
have  spread  it  among  their  class.     In  their  "advice  to  members 
of  this  and  other  societies,"  they  say:  "Look  well  after  money 
matters.     Buy  your  goods  as  much  as  possible  in  the  first  mar- 
kets; or,  if  you  have  the  produce  of  your  industry  to  sell,  con- 
trive, if  possible,  to  sell  it  in  the  last.     Never  depart  from  the     , 
principle  of  buying  and  selling  for  ready  money.     Beware  of  V 
[long  reckonings."     In  short,  the  co-operative  societies  became   r< 
j tradesmen  on  a  large  scale;  and,  besides  the  j)ureness  of  the 
food  sold,  their  profit  consisted  in  the  discount  for  cash  i)ay> 
jments,  which  was  divided  among  the  members. 

Land  and  building  societies  constitute  another  form  of  co-op(U'- 

jation.     These  are  chiefly  supported  by  the  minor  middle-class 

men,  but  also  to  a  considerable  extent  by  the  skilled  and  thrifty 

I  working-claaa  men.     By  theifr  means  portions  of  land  are  bought, 

and  dwelling  houses  are  built.      By  means  of  a  l)\nldiug  society, 


\ 


T^ 


;;..■! 


1^ 


>■ 


'  ill! 


'I « 


m 


I  ■  1 


,1  lllll 


I:  is 
'^1 


'    H; 


A 


\- 


}' 


'  i 


a-!^ 


P 


'^)MP^^^fl5^^^^fW^W»MlH^J'^''WffWMF"lW-^'"^'W"WJi|.^"' 


106 


Thrift  Conservative. 


[chap.  VI, 


a  person  who  desires  to  possess  a  house  enters  the  society  as  a 
member,  and,  instead  of  paying  his  rent  to  the  landlord,  pays 
his  subscriptions  and  interest  to  i  committee  of  his  friends; 
and  in  course  of  time,  when  his  subscriptions  are  paid  up, 
the  house  is  purchased,  and  conveyed  to  him  by  the  society. 
The  building  society  is  thus  a  savings-bank,  where  money  accu- 
mulates for  a  certain  purpose.  But  even  those  who  do  not 
purchase  a  house  receive  a  dividend  and  bonus  on  their  shares, 
which  sometinies  amoimt  to  a  considerable  sum. 

The  accumulation  of  property  has  the  effect  which  it  always 
lias  upon  thrifty  men;  it  makes  them  steady,  sober,  and  diligent. 
It  weans  them  from  revohitionary  notions,  and  makes  them 
conservative.  When  workmen,  by  their  industry  and  frugality, 
have  secured  their  own  independence,  they  will  cease  to  regard 
the  sight  of  others'  well-being  as  a  wrong  inflicted  on  themselves; 
and  it  will  no  longer  be  possible  to  make  political  capital  out  of 
their  imaginary  woes. 

It  has  been  said  that  freehold  land  societies,  which  were 
established  for  political  objects,  had  the  etlect  of  weaning  men 
from  political  reform.  They  were  first  started  in  Birminghaui, 
lor  the  purpose  of  enabling  men  to  buy  land,  and  divide  it  into 
foi'ty- shilling  freeholds,  so  that  the  owners  might  become  elec- 
tors and  vote  against  the  corn-laws.  The  corn-laws  have  been 
done  away  with;  but  the  holders  of  freehold  land  still  exsit, 
though  many  of  them  have  ceased  to  be  politicians.  "Mr. 
Arth-ir  Ryland  informs  me,"  said  Mr.  Holyoake,  in  a  recent 
paper  on  building  societies,  "  that  in  Birmingham  numbers  of 
persojis  under  the  influence  of  these  societies  have  forsaken 
jjatriotism  for  profits.  And  I  know  both  co-operators  and 
Chartists  who  were  loud-mouthed  for  social  and  political  reform, 
who  now  care  no  more  for  it  than  a  Whig  government;  ami 
decline  to  attend  a  i)ublic  meeting  on  a  fine  night,  while  they 
would  crawl  like  the  serpent  in  Eden,  through  a  gutter  in  a 
storm,  after  a  good  security.  They  have  tasted  land,  and  the 
gravel  has  got  into  their  souls." 

"  Yet  to  many  others,"  he  adds,  "  these  societies  have  taught 
a  healthy  frugality  they  never  else  wouhl  have  known  ;  and 
enabled  many  an  industrious  son  to  take  to  his  home  his  poor 


■       ■  •  ■     i 

KM     i: 


CHAP.  VI.] 


Uses  of  Investments. 


107 


old  father — who  expected  and  dreaded  to  die  in  the  work-house 
—and  set  him  down  to  smoke  his  pipe  in  the  sunshine  in  tlie 
orarden,  of  which  the  land  and  the  house  belonjjed  to  his  child."* 

The  Leeds  Permanent  Building  Society,  which  has  furnished 
healthy  tenements  for  about  two  hundred  families,  sets  forth 
the  following  recommendations  of  the  influence  which  they  have 
exercised  among  the  working-classes  of  that  town :  "  It  is  truly 
cheering  to  hear  the  members  themselves,  at  occasional  meet- 
ings, tell  how,  from  small  savings,  hitherto  deemed  too  little  for 
active  application,  they  began  to  invest  in  the  society  ;  then  to 
build  or  buy ;  then  to  advance  in  life,  and  come  to  competence, 
from  extending  their  savings  in  this  manner The  provi- 
dent habits  and  knowledge  thus  induced  are  most  beneficial  to 
the  members.  And  the  result  is,  that  the  careless  become 
thoughtful,  and,  on  saving,  become  orderly,  respectable,  proper- 
tied, and  in  every  way  better  citizens,  neighbors,  and  more  wor- 
thy and  comfortable.  The  employment  of  money  in  this  useful 
direction  encourages  trade,  advances  prices  and  wages,  comforts 
the  working-classes,  and  at  the  same  time  provides  the  means  of 
home  enjoyments,  without  which  such  advances  would  bo  com- 
paratively useless,  and  certainly  uncertain,"! 

There  are  also  exceptional  towns  and  villages  in  Lancashire 
where  large  sums  of  money  have  been  saved  by  the  operatives 
for  buying  or  building  comfortable  cottage  dwellings.  Last 
year  Padiham  saved  about  fifteen  thousand  pounds  for  this  pur- 
pose, although  its  pop^ilation  is  only  about  eight  thousand. 
Burnley  has  also  been  very  successful.  The  Building  Society 
there  has  six  thousand  six  hundred  investors,  who  saved  last 
year  one  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  pounds,  or  an  average  of 
twenty-four  pounds  for  each  investor.  I'he  members  consist 
Itrincipally  of  mill  operatives,  miners,  mechanics,  engineers, 
carpenters,  stone-masons,  and  laborers.  They  also  include 
women,  both  married  and  unmarried.     Our  informant   states 

*  Paper  read  at  York  meeting  of  the  National  Society  for  Promoting 
j  Social  Science,  September  26th,  1864. 

t  Letter  of  Mr.  John  Holmes,  in  "  Heporta  of  Paris  Universal 
Exhibition,  1867,"  voi.  vi.,  p.  240. 


T7S^?W««?^TW»7WB™'W?T!r^'^»fWw>''^^-T7iT' 


108 


Building  Societies. 


[chap.  VI. 


I 


that  "great  numbers  of  the  working- classes  have  purchased 
houses  in  which  to  live.  They  have  likewise  bought  houses  ns 
a  means  of  investment.  The  Building  Society  has  assi«^'.vl  in 
hundreds  of  these  cases,  by  advancing  money  on  mortgage,  such 
mortgages  being  repaid  by  easy  instalments." 

Building  societies  are,  on  the  whole,  among  the  most  excellent 
methods  of  illustrating  the  advantages  of  Thrift.  They  induce 
men  to  save  money  for  the  purpose  of  buying  their  own  homes; 
in  which,  so  long  as  they  live,  they  possess  the  best  of  all 
securities. 


h  '• 


■j. 


u 


• 


$  J'.. 


«'l 


t 


I 


(MIAI'Ti:!:    ViT. 


heu.No:,! V   IX    ijii: 


sli:AN(JK 


« 1 


I'd  imt  fur  (iiic  ifimlst'    rorcijo  lli 


li.it,  voii  resolve. I  ti)  i 


tle.-t. 


l.-lip 


>S!!AKI„Sl'K.\l.K 


We  Ml-e  1 

urti 


lelliel 


|iiu--ere;h  arcs 


le  ii'^lir,  iiL'aiii.sl  I  he  v.'ri)ii<^. 


rlit. 


•II  }'Auiii;i'r. 


Life  w;is  nf>t  irivi^ii  us  to 


lUst  le;ivi 


.ehUMl    US  WileU  \Vt!  (lU 


lie   illl   US(.'(l  up  iu    tlie    pui.suil   dl' 

-J us i; I'll  May. 


;it  we 


)')nlieur  du  le  in; 


"Lcl 
iiotre  vie  passee. 


(ic  la   A'lellle.ise    U  eSl      OUVi'Iit   iiue 


e  V 1 


;n 


cr 


1.1 


esseiine 


or  nii.siM" 


of 


[\'jy  is  oll.'u  i.nt 


xtiMi  t  ul  iiiir       it  life. ) — I)i':  MaisTUK 


I  lie  e 

rr\WO  other  iiictliods  of  co-opcnitivo  saving  rcinnii!  to  bo 
J.  meutiojicil.  'I'lio  lirst  is  by  Lit'c;t.s,siir:iuc<'.  wliidi  I'liiildcs 
widows  juid  cliilcb-on  to  bo  providcnl  (or  at  the  dciitli  of  the 
assured  ;  and  tlic  scrond  is  by  Friendly  Societies,  wliich  enable 
\v(U'king-ni(?n  to  provide  themselve.s  willi  relief  in  sickness,  and 
dieir  \vido\v«  and  orphans  with  a  sniidl  sum  at  their  death. 
The  tirst  method  is  practis(;d  by  the  niiildle  aiid  u[)por  classes, 
and  the  second  by  the  working-classes. 

It  might  possibly  take  a  long  time  to  save  (inough  money  to 
provide  for  those  who  are  dependent  npon  us  ;  ;ind  there  is 
ahvays  the  teni]ttation  to  (encroach  n]inn  tin-  funds  set  apart  for 
(leath,  which — as  ma.ny  ]>eoph^  suppose  -may  lie  a  far-distant 
tn'out.  So  that  saving  l)it  by  bit,  from  weelc  to  week,  can  not 
always  be  ridied  npon. 

The  ]ierson  wdio  joins  an  assurance  society  is  in  a  dilfcreiit 
position.  His  annual  or  (jnarterly  saving  bec<.)mes  at  once  a 
portion  of  a  general  fund,  sntHcient  to  I'ealize  the  inteut':)n  of 
tlie  assured.  At  the  moment  tluit  he  makes  his  first  paymc  nt, 
Ms   object  is  attained.     Though  he  die  on   the  chty  after  his 


no 


Co-operation  in  Assurance. 


[chap.  VII. 


premium  has  boen  i)aid,  his  widow  and  children  will  receive  the 
entire  amount  of  Jiis  nssur.'ince. 

This  sy.stein,  wliile  it  secures  a  provision  to  his  survivors,  at 
the  same  time  incites  a  man  to  th<;  moral  ol>li^iition  of  exercis- 
ing foresight  and  prudence,  since  tlu'ough  its  means  these 
virtu(!S  may  he  j^ractised,  and  tlieir  nltimate  reward  secured. 
Not  the  least  of  the  advantages  attending  life-assurance  is  the 
serenitv  of  mind  v.hich  attends  the  pi'ovitU'nt  man  when  lying 
on  a  bed  of  sickness,  or  when  he  is  in  j»ros[>ect  of  death -so 
unlike  that  i)ainful  anxietv  for  the  future  welfai-e  of  a  familv, 
which  adds  jioignancy  to  bodily  sulferini;,  and  retards  or  (hifeats 
the  power  of  medicine.  The  pocit  ]>urns,  in  writing  to  a  friend 
a  few  dii.ys  bel'ore  his  (h'ath,  said  tlnit  he  was  "still  the  victim 
of  aliliction.  Alas!  C'lark,  1  begin  to  fear  the  worst.  iiurns' 
poor  widow,  and  half  a  (h)/en  of  his  dear  little  ones  hel])less 
orphans  ;  there,  I  ani  weak  as  a  woman's  tear.  Enough  of 
this,   U.'ts  half  nnj  dlscMse  !  " 

Life-assurance  may  bo  descrilied  as  a  joint-stock  plan  for 
securing  widows  and  children  from  want.  It  is  an  arrangement 
by  means  of  which  a,  large  nundier  of  jxrsons  agree  to  lay  hy 
cci'tain  small  sums,  calh^l  "  premiums,"  yeaidy,  to  accumulate 
at  interest,  as  in  a  savings-hank',  against  the  (H)ntingency  of 
the  assurer's  death,  when  the  amount  of  tlu>  sum  subscribed  for 
is  forthwith  handed  o\er  to  l)is  survivors.  Wy  this  means  jier- 
sons  ])ossessed  of  but  littk^  ca])ital,  though  enjoying  regular 
wages  or  salari(^s,  howt'\er  small,  mav  at  once  form  a  fund  for 
tlu^  lenelit  of  their  family  at  deatli. 

We  often  hear  of  men  wlio  ha\e  l)een  diligent  and  useful 
mendu'rs  of  society  dying  and  leaving  tluur  wives  and  families 
in  absolute  ])overty.  They  have  lived  in  i-espectabh;  style,  paid 
high  rents  for  tlunr  houses,  dressed  well,  k('j)t  u|)  good  visitin'j; 
acipiaintaiice,  were  seen  at  inost  i)laces  of  amusement,  and 
l)r(iught  uj)  their  (diildren  with  certain  ideas  of  social  ]>ositien 
and  i'esj)ectability  ;  but  death  has  stricken  theui  down,  and 
what  is  tlie  situation  of  their  fanulies  1  lias  the  lather  provided 
for  their  future  1  Fi-om  twenty  to  twcmty-live  i)onnds  a  year, 
paid  into  an  assurance  society,  would  ha\'e  secured  their  Avidows 
and  children  againt-l.  absolute  want.     Jlave  they  performed  this 


CHAP.  VII. 


Improvidence  Cruel. 


Ill 


duty  ?  No,  they  liavc  (loiio  notliiu;;'  o'i  l:ln'  kind  ;  it  tui-ns  out 
that  the  family  liavo  Ix'cu  liviiiy-  up  to  tlieir  nioan^ .  if  not  be- 
yond thoni,  and  tin;  issue,  is,  that  they  are  thrown  suddenly 
l)aMki'U[)t  u[M)n  tlui  wofld. 

(Jonduet  sucli  as  this  is  not  onlv  thou^litless  and  improvident. 


])iit  lieai'tless  and  cruel   in  the  last  de''r(;e. 


To  1 


)V\\v^  a 


an.ily 


iito  tlu^  w'oi'ld,  jL(ive  them  retineil  tastes,  and  accustom  them  to 


con 


d'orts,  thi>  loss  of  which  is  miserv,   and  then   to   lea^e  tl 


ic 


family  to  the  work-house,  the  j>rison,  or  the  sti'e(^t--to  {\w  alms 
of  relatives,  or  to  the  charity  of  the  pul'lie — is  nothins;-  short  of 
a  crime  done  a^'ainst  society,  as  well  as  a^-ainst  th<^  unfortunate 
individuals  who  \wv.  the  imme<liate  suiferers. 

It  will  he  admitted  that  thi^  ntnuher  of  men  who  can  lay  hy 
a  sutHcient  store  of  ca[)ital  for  the  henetit  of  their  fimilies  is,  in 
tlicse  times  of  intense  i-ompetition,  c()n\j)arati\('ly  small.  I'er- 
liaj)S  the  claims  of  an  increasiiiLi;  family  al)Soi-b  nearly  all  their 
j,'ainH,  and  iind  that  the  sum  wlii(di  tiu^y  can  put  away  in  the 
l)ajd<  is  so  small  that  it  is  not  [tut  away  at  all.  They  heeomo 
reckless  of  ev(M"  attainin^i;'  so  apjiarently  hopeless  an  oltject  as 
that  of  an  accumulation  i>f  savings  i'or  the  ii<Mietit  of  tlieii  tand- 
Hes  at  d(>ath. 

Take  tlm  case  of  a  mari-ied  man  with  a  faitdly.  lie  has  hi!- 
mia  hnsiness.  and  thinks  that,  if  his  life  were  spared,  he  nn;^dit 
ill  coursi^  of  years  he  ahle  to  lay  hy  sullicient  sa\  inij^s  to  provide 
for  his  wife  and  ir.mily  at  his  death.  Ihit  life  is  most  uncer- 
t'liii,  and  he  knows  that  at  any  monuMit  he  may  Ik^  taken  away, 
li'avin^uf  those  he.  holds  most  dear  compar;iti\(dy  deslitute.  At 
thirty  he  determines  to  join  a  sound  life-olhce.  Me  insures  for 
tiv(^  hundred  ])ounds,  jtayahh^to  his  sur\  ixors  at  his  death,  and 
pays  from  twidxo  to  thirteen  pounds  yearly.  hVoni  the  iiHMuent 
I'll  which  he  pays  that  aneaiut,  the  li\e  !iun<lred  pounds  ai'e 
M'curtsd  i'or  his  faiuilv,  although  In,'  di(.ul  thc^  xcrv  next  dav. 


N 


ow,  if  he  had  deposited  this  lw(d\  c  or  thirteen  pounds  yearly 


\\\ 


a  hank,  or  enniloyed  it  at  interest,  it  would  ha\-e  taken  ahout 
cnty  years  before  his  savinus  would  ha\(^  amounted  to  hv(> 
midi-ed  pounds.  Ihit  by  the  simple  and  lieiiutiful  expedient  i»f 
to -Mssu ranee,  these  twenty-six  years  ot  tin;  best  part  oi'his  life 


iU'c,  on  this  account  at  lea.st, 


ecured  against  anxiety  am 


I  ear( 


,! 


^1  ■ 


n.  ( ;  ■ 


lU 


1 


112 


Compp.nsation  of  Assurance. 


[chap.   VII. 


The  ai)tioi[)Hlktii  ot"  "i'uUiiv-  evil  no  longer  rol».s  liim  of  pivsi'iit 
eiijoyiiu'iil.  I>v  iiiciiiis  oC  liis  aiimiitl  iixcd  jKiyiiiciit — wliicli 
dcci'eiiscs  accoidiiiij:  »o  (lie  j>rofils  oi  the  society-he  is  seciiri!  of 
lea\in,«j^  a  t\\vx\  siiiii  at  his  death  for  the  heiiehi  of  his  fjiiiiily. 

Ill  I  his  way.  life  assuriiiu^e  may  1»(^  rey'anlcd  in  tin*  light  of  a 
contraet,  )>y  nliich  the  iiie<[ualities  of  life  are  to  a  eertaiii  extent 
a\erii.m!d  iiiid  rompeiisaied.  so  th;it  tliosf?  who  die  soon — or, 
ratlusr,  iheir  fainiiies--  hceoinc  shares  in  the  ij^ood  fortune  of 
those  who  live  beyond  the  fivera,y<'  tei'ni  of  life.  And  even 
shonld  the  assurer  liiiiis'.'lf  live  Ix-yoiid  the  jtcriod  at  which  his 
saviu.us  would  liiiv(^  aceuuiulated  to  more  tluui  tlu;  sum  insured, 
he  will  not  he  dis[>os(>d  to  r('|iiiie,  if  lu;  takes  into  ac^count  his 
exi'uiption  from  t-oriodiui;-  solifitude  duriny;  so  niauv  vears  of 
his  life. 


T! 


le  reasons  w 


hi'l 


1   linlucc  ;t 


man  (o  insur(!  his  house  and  stock 


of 


:oo( 


Is  auainsL  Iim-  aicidciit    of  lii-e  ouvht  to  he  still  more  in 


p('rati\'(^  iu  induciii,^'  him  (o  insur(>   his  life  a^'aiiist  the  arcidrnt 
fdiscas<>and  I  lie  cont  iu^encv  of  sudden  <lealh.      What  is  world- 


o 


ly  prudeuci!  iii  I  he  oik^  case,  is  sometlmii;' more  m  tlie  other;  it 
has    superailded    to    i(    (he    <iutv  nf  ))ro\idin^'  foi'  the    future 


ma 


iliteiiaiK-e  of  a  !tM^silll\•  widowed  wile  and  orphaned  ehildre 


aud  no  mail  can  /pistly  siaud  exiaised  wlio  iie,nle;'ts  so  y'reat  and 
hindiii,!;'  an  ol)!'nalion.  Is  it  an  ol)li^ation  ou  (he  [lartof  ,i  hus- 
band and  father  fo  |»:M\ide  daily  bread  for  his  wite  and  cJiildrcu 
duriii,:;'  liis  life.'  'idien  it  is  eipially  an  (»bli^ation  on  his  part  (o 
])ro\ide  means  t'nr  their  adcipiate  su|>|)i>r1  in  e\eiit  of  his  <le!itli. 
The  duly  is  S(.)  obvious,  the  means  oi"  iierformiii;;'  it  are  so  simple, 
and  n,re  now  so  easily  jijaeed  within  tli(>  reach  of  all  men;  tlio 
ai'raii,!;"emeui  is  so  eminently  practical,  rali<inal,  lienevolent,  and 
_)ust  ;  it  is.  inorei)\er,  so  calculated  (o  iiii-rease  excry  wise  and 
]iru<leiit  maii'.s  sens"  of  sidf  respei-t,  ami  to  eiieouia,^"e  him  in  tlio 


jtertormaiiee  < 


il'all 


'oper  soeia 


Idut 


les     (hat  we  can  not  conceive 


d  it 


ot  any  |)(»ssible  ol»|e(  lion  that  can  be  urged  against  it;  am 
only   to  be  regretted  that   th<^   practice  is  not  far  more  general 
and  eusiomar\-  llian  it   is  amouij  all  <  lasses  of  the  eommuuitv.* 


•It  limy  li"  tiii'tilioiicd  thiit  tic  tnt;d  inne'int  ;isMni'(l  in  ('xi.->tiiip  Hritisli 
offices,   iiiosUy  by   the  iiiiildlc   ilii>,-,(  s,   is  iilioiit  tlinc  Inunlii'il  mihI  lil'ty 


CHAP.   VII.] 


Bciicfll  Societies. 


11:5 


T1j(!  iVioiuUy  or  bouctit  socitsticft  of  tUt;  workiny-  classes  aic 
also  c()-o))(M'iitive  so('ioti(?s  iiudt'i-  ;inotiior  form.  Thov  cultivate 
the  habit  ot"  prudent  seH'-roliauce  amouy-  tlio  petiole,  and  nro 
coiisO((uentlv'  wortliv  of  eNcrv  encouraijenient.  It  is  ecM'tainlv 
a  striking  fact  tliat  soni(>  four  niilHous  of  woi'king-nien  sliould 
have  organized  tlieniselNcs  into  xoluntai'v  assocjntiijus  for  tlio 
))in']»os(!  of  iiuitual  supjjort  in  tiini^  of  sickness  and  distress. 
These  societies  are  the  outgrowth,  in  a  great  measure,  of  the 
English  love  of  self-go\ernment  and  s(wial  iuihijxMiilenco— in 
illustration  of  which  it  may  be  stated,  that,  whereas  in  Prance 
only  one  person  in  se\i'nty-si\  is  found  bidonging  to  a  benefit 
society,  and  in  IJelgium  one  in  sixty-foui',  the  proportion  in  ICng- 
liuitl  is  found  to  b(>  one  in  nine.  Tlu^  hhiu'lish  societies  .are  said 
te  lia\-e  in  hand  funds  amounting  to  more  tha)i  elcN'en  millions 
sterling  ;  and  they  disti'ibute  relief  among  th(Mi'  nuunbers.  ]ti'o- 
vided  by  voluntiiry  contributions  out  of  tli>'ii'  weekly  earnings, 
.■MMOunting  to  al>ove  two  millions  yeaiOy. 

Although  the  working-classes  of  Ki'.tnce  and  I'xdgium  do  not 
hcleng  to  lienetit  st)cieties  to  anything  like  the  sann^  extent,  it 
must  l>e  statod,  in  their  justitication,  that  th<\v  are  among  tln^ 
most  thrifty  and  piud(Uit  peoph>  in  th(>  world.  They  iuNcst 
tliei)' savings  ])rinci|)ally  in  land  and  in  (he  public  i'unds.  '^Phe 
Frencli  and  iJcdgians  ha\e  a  |tositi^•l>  hunger  for  land.  They 
save  evei'v  thing  that  they  can  for  the  purpose  of  ac(|uiring 
moi'c.  And  with  res]iect  to  their  investments  in  th(>  public 
fluids,  it  may  Ix-  mentioned,  as  \\.  welld<nown  fact,  that  it  was 
the  Kri^nch  peasantiy  who,  by  in\-es{ing  their  sa\ings  in  tho 
National  Defense  Loan,  liberateil  h'rench  soil  iVoiii  the  tread  of 
their  ( (crman  con((uerors. 

hiUulisli  benellt  socit'ties,  notwithstanding  their  great  us(^s 
and  Itenelits,  have  numerous  defects.  Thei'c  are  taults  in  the 
details  of  tlnur  (U'ganization  and  manaLiemcnt,  while  many  of 
thcni  are  tinancinlly  unsoinid.      Likc^  other  institutions  in  their 


iiiillidns  stcrUn;,',  anil  (liiit  tin'  luiiuia!  ]ii'('Uiiuiiis  |);iyalil('  aunnuit  to  not 
less  than  eleven  uallions  .sterling.  Anil  yet,  no  nioie  than  one  person  hi 
twenty  of  the  ])erson»  l>el(inj.fing  to  the  classes  t-o  whom  lil'e-iissuratioo  is 
t'speeiiilly  applioublo,  have  yet  availed  thouiS(!lve.s  uf  its  bunelits. 


^;i'! 


I'KI 


•  ll 


m 


114 


Workmen^ s  Societies. 


[chap.  VII. 


c:i!-]y  stages,  tlicy  Iuinu  biu'u  tcutadvo,  Jtiul  \n  a  great  measiu'i; 
eni])irical — more  especially  as  regards  tlu>ir  rates  of  contributiou 
ami  allowances  for  sick  relief.  The  rates  have  in  many  cases 
been  fixed  too  low,  in  })roi)ortion  to  the  benefits  allowed  ;  mikI 
hence  the  "  l)Ox"  is  often  declared  to  be  closed,  after  the  money 
snbscribed  has  been  expended.  The  society  then  comes  to  an 
end,  and  tlu;  older  members  luive  to  go  without  relief  foi-  tlic 
rest  of  their  lives.  iUit  iife-a;-;sni';!nce  societies  themselves  liave 
had  to  undergo  tiie  SJime  discipline  of  I'ailure,  and  tlu;  operation 
of  "v/Indingup"  has  not  unfiv(]uently  thrown  discredit  upon 
those  middle-class  associations. 

To  cpiote  the  words  of  the  i-egistrar  of  friendh^  societies,  in  a 
recent  repoi-t :  " 'I'houg'h  the  information  thus  far  obtaine(l  is 
not  very  (.tiicouragiug  as  to  the  general  systeni  of  management, 
on  the  whole,  poiha])s,  tlie  rewidts  of  the  investments  of  the])0()r 
are  not  worse  than  those  which  nolih^men,  members  of  Parlia- 
ment, merchants,  professed  linanciers,  and  speculators  have 
contrived  to  attain  in  their  management  of  railways,  joint-stock 
banks,  and  i>nter[)rises  of  all  kinds." 

The  workjuen's  societies  originated  for  tht>  most  part  in  a 
common  want,  t\'lt  by  persons  oi'sma/ll  means,  unable  to  ac;cunui- 
lateany  (xmsiderable  store  of  sayings  to  pro\'ide  against  di'stitn- 
tiou  in  the  e\'ent  of  dis;iblem(Mii  by  disease  or  accident.  At  Uic 
beginning  of  life,  persons  earning  their  brc>ad  l)y  dally  htbor  arc 
able  to  save  money  with  diJHculty.  Unavoida'ole  ex])enseH  al»- 
soi-b  their  limited  means  and  jtress  li(^a\"ily  on  their  income. 
When  unable  to  work,  any  little  store:  they  may  have  accunm- 
lated  is  soon  sixuit ;  and  if  they  hav(!  a  finiily  to  maintain,  thciv 
is  then  no  choice  before  them  but  destitution,  begging,  or  re- 
course to  the  pool'  rates,  in  their  (h^sire  to  avoid  either  of  tlu^sc 
alternatives,  they  have  contriviMl  the  expedi'iio  of  tlu;  benelii 
society.  I5y  couibining  and  putting  a  large  number  of  small 
contributions  tog(>th(U'.  (hey  ha\'e  found  it  ]ii'aftieable  (Inis  io 
provide  a  fund  suliiciently  large  to  nu'et  their  ordinary  rcvpiirc- 
uuMd,s  during  si(0<ness. 

The  means  by  which  this  is  accomplished  are  very  Hiiiii»l(\ 
Kuch  member  contributes  to  a  common  fund  at  the  rate  of  frniii 
fourpeuce  to  six[>enee  a  week,  and  out  of  this  fuml  the  stipidateil 


CHAP.  VII.] 


Manchester  Ujiity. 


115 


allowance  is  paid.  Most  benefit  societies  have  also  a  widows 
and  orphans'  fund,  laised  in  like  manner,  out  of  which  a  sum  is 
paid  to  the  survivors  of  members  at  their  df>ath.  It  will  be  ob- 
vious that  such  organizations,  however  faulty  they  may  be  in 
detail,  can  not  fail  to  exercise  a  beneficial  induence  upon  society 
at  large.  The  fact  tliat  one  of  such  associations  (the  Manchester 
Unity  of  Odd  Fellows)  nuinl)ers  about  half  a  million  of  members, 
possesses  a  funded  capital  amounting  to  .£3,700,.')Gr),  and  distri- 
imtes  in  Kick-relief  and  ])ayuients  of  sums  at  <U  ath  al)()ve  .£'MW,- 
000  a  year,  illustrates  in  a  striking  ligjit  their  benctii-ial  actitm 
upon  the  classes  for  whoiu  and  by  whom  they  have  i)een  estab- 
lished. Bv  their  means,  working-men  are  enabled  to  secure  tlie 
results  of  economy  at  a  com[)aratively  small  cost,  Foi'  mutual 
assurance  is  economy  in  its  nn)st  economical  form  ;  and  merely 
[U'cseuts  anotluM"  illustration  of  that  power  of  eo-oj)('iation  widch 
is  working  out  such  extraordinary  results  in  all  de))artments  of 
society,  and  is  in  fact  but  another  name  for  civilization. 

Manv  ]>ersons  object  to  fiiendlv  societies  because  thev  are 
conducted  at  ])ubIic-liousfc'S  ;  ))ecause  niany  of  them  are  got  up 
by  the  keepers  of  juiblic  honsos  in  oi'der  to  obtain  custom  from 
the  nu'mbei's  ;  and  bcrause,  in  their  foi'tnightly  meetings  to  pay 
tlieir  subscriptions,  tliey  acquire  the. pernicious  habit  of  drink- 
ing, and  thus  waste  (juitc  as  mncli  as  they  sa\-e.  The  friendly 
societies  donltth>ss  r(dy  \"ery  much  on  tlii^  s;»eial  eh^ment.  The 
public  house  is  e\'erybody's  house.  TIk;  members  can  tlierc^  nu'et 
tngivther,  talk  together,  and  drink  togetluir.  It  is  extrcMnely 
jtrobable  tliat  had  tlu^y  trusted  solely  to  the  sensc>  of  duty  the 
duty  of  insuring  against  sickness-— and  meri'ly  re([uired  the 
members  t<)  ])ay  their  weekly  coiitribntions  to  a  colleetoi-,  Aery 
lew  societies  of  the  kind  would  havi^  remained  in  existence;.  In 
11  large  numbei'  of  cases,  tliere  is  pi'actically  no  choice  l)etween 
the  socii^ty  that  meets  at  a  jaibliediouse  and  none;  at  all. 

It  so  happens  that  !he  world  ean  not  be  conducted  on  super- 
line  pjiiu'ii»les.  To  most  nH'n,and  especially  to  tlie  nu'U  we  are 
Kpeaking  of,  it  is  a  rough,  working  woi'ld,  conducted  on  c<innnon 
}jrinci|»les,  such  as  will  wear.  To  sonu^  it  may  seem  vulgar  to 
aHsociat((  beer,  tobacco,  or  feasting  with  the  pure  and  sim|)le 
duty  of  ellecting  un  insivauce  against  disa,^lement  by  sickness  ; 


Arm 


\.A\ 


i^irfjm 


IIG 


Dull/  ^^^^^'  I^inners. 


[chap.  vii. 


Init  the  world  we  live  in  is  vulgar,  and  we  must  take'  it  as  wv, 
find  it,  and  try  to  make  the  best  of  it.  It  nuist  be  admitted 
that  the  tendencies  to  i)nre  good  in  nian  are  very  weak,  and 
ne(!d  mncli  helping.  But  the  expedient,  vulgar  though  it  be, 
of  atti'actiug  him,  tlirough  liis  appetite  for  meat  and  drink,  to 
pei'form  a  duty  to  himself  iuid  neighbors,  is  by  no  means  eon- 
fined  to  societies  of  working-men.  There  is  scarcely  a  London 
charity  or  institution  b\it  has  its  annual  dinner  for  the  purpose 
of  attracting  subscribers.  Are  we  to  condemn  the  eijihtec  u- 
penny  annual  dinner  of  the  j>oor  man,  but  excuse  the  guint^a 
one  of  the  I'ich  ? 

A  vigorous  effoi't  was  made  by  Mr,  Akroyd,  of  Halifax,  in 
1850,  to  e'^ablish  a  Provident  Sick  Society  and  Penny  Savings- 
bank  for  the  working-men  in  the  West  lliding  of  Yorkshire. 
An  organization  was  s(.!t  on  foot  with  these  objects  ;  and  though 
the  penny  bank  proved  a  complete  success,  the  provident  society 
proved  a  complo^te  failure.  Mr.  Akroyd  thus  explains  tlio 
causes  of  the  failure  :  "We  found  the  ground  pre-occupied,"  ho 
says,  "by  friendly  societies,  especially  by  the  Odd  Felknvs, 
Druids,  Foresters,  etc.  ;  and  against  theii-  j)rinci|)l<'S  of  self- 
government,  mutual  check  against  fraud,  and  hrolhcrhooil,  no 
new  and  in(le[)eu(l(!nt  society  can  competes  Our  rates  were  also 
of  necessity  much  higher  than  theirs,  and  this  was  perhaps  one 
of  the  chief  causes  of  our  failure." 

Low  rates  of  contribution  have  been  the  })rinci]ial  cause  of 
tlie  i'ailure  of  friendly  societies.  It  was  of  course  natui-al  that 
the  members,  beijig  persons  of  limited  means,  should  endeavor 
to  secure  the  objects  of  their  organization  at  the  lowest  cost. 
They  therefore  fixed  their  rates  as  low  as  possible  ;  and,  as  the 
results  ]»roved,  they  in  most  cases  fixed  them  too  low.  So  long 
as  the  societies  consisted,  for  tlie  most  part,  of  young,  healthy 
men,  and  the  average  amount  of  sickness  remained  low,  the 
payments  made  seemed  am])le.  The  funds  accumulated,  and 
many  flattered  themselves  that  their  societies  were  in  a  prosper- 
ous state,  when  they  contained  the  sure  elements  of  decay;  for 
as  the  UKMubers  gi-ew  older,  their  avei-age  liability  to  sickness 
was  regularly  increasing.  TJie  ell'ects  of  increased  ag(i  upon  tlie 
aolveuey  of  benefit  clubs  soon  becoming  kuowu,  young  men 


CHAP.   VII.] 


Failure  of  FAendli/  Socielo's, 


117 


iivoidt'tl  tlio  oltU-r  societies,  and  })vefeiTe(.l  scittiiiy;  up  or<,'iUiiza- 
tions  of  theii-  owu.  The  consequence  was,  that  the  ohl  men 
lieijftn  to  draw  u})on  their  reserves  at  the  same  time  tliat  tlie 
rogular  contriljutions  fell  off;  and  wl:en,  as  v/as  freijuciitly  the 
case,  a  few  constantly  ailin<^'  nieml)ers  ke})t  ])ressing  ujxm  the 
society,  the  funds  wei'e  at  len<,'tli  exliausted,  "the  box"  was 
declared  to  be  eloseil,  and  the  society  was  bi'oken  \\\).  Tlie  rc^al 
injustice  was  doiu;  to  tlie  younger  men  who  leniained  in  the 
society.  After  paying  their  contril)utions  for  many  years,  tliey 
t'(nnid,  wOien  sickness  at  h'Ugth  fell  upon  them,  tliat  the  funds 
had  been  exhausted  by  (ixpenditure  tor  sujierannmition  and  other 
allowances  which  worn  not  provided  for  by  the  rules  of  the 
society. 

Kven  the  best  of  the  benefit  societies  hav(^  been  slow  to  learn 
the  essential  im])ortance  of  ;ule(pi!ite  rates  of  contiibution  to 
(Miable  them  to  fulfill  their  obligations,  and  insure  theii'  con- 
tinued usefulness  as  well  as  solvency.  ^FIk^  defect  of  most  of 
tlieni  consists  in  their  trying  to  do  too  much  with  too  litth^ 
inciins.  The  benefits  paid  out  are  too  high  for  the  rates  of 
contribution  }>aid  in.  Those  who  come  tii'st  are  served,  but  those 
who  come  late  too  often  find  an  empty  i)(»x.  Not  only  have  the 
rates  of  payment  been  genorally  fixed  too  low,  but  there  has 
lireu  little  or  no  discavimi nation  in  the  selection  of  members. 
Men  advanced  in  years  and  of  fragile  health  are  often  admitted 
on  the  same  tto'ins  as  the  young  and  the  luMilthy,  the  only 
ilitference  being  in  the  rate  of  entry-money.  Even  young  lodges 
which  start  with  imulecpiate  I'ates,  instead  of  growing  stronger, 
^.Madually  grow  weaker;  and  in  the  event  of  a  f<;W  constantly 
ailing  members  falling  ujion  the  funds,  they  soon  become  ex- 
liansied,  and  the  lodge  becomes  bankrin>t  and  is  bioken  up. 
Such  has  been  the  history  of  thousands  of  fiiendly  societies, 
•loing  good  and  serving  a  us(>fu.l  jmrposo  in  their  time,  butsliort- 
livcul,  ephemeral,  and  to  many  of  their  mombeis  disappointing 
iiiid  e\(>n  (h'ceptixe. 

Attempts  have  beiui  recently  made;— more  especially  by  tiie 
olHf'crs  of  the  Man<diester  Unity  of  Odd  Fellows — to  improve 
tlie  Fiiian(!ial  condition  of  f  heir  sotdety,  Perhaps  the  best  proof 
of  the  desire  that  exists  on  the  part  of  the  leading  minds  in  the 


-JMV 


118 


Improvement  by  Experience. 


[chap.  VII. 


Unity  to  bi'inf,'  tlio  organi/atioii  into  a  state  of  financial  sound 
ne.sH,  is  to  l)u  found  in  tlu;  fact  tliat  tlio  l)oai\l  of  mana;joment 
liave  autliorizod  tlie  })u])licati(jn  of  tlio  bostof  all  data  for  future 
guidance — namely,  the  actual  sickness  expiM-ience  of  the  order. 
An  elaborate  sei-ies  of  tables  h.is  accordingly  been  preparcil  and 
published  for  their  information  by  ]Mr.  Radclifie,  the  corres- 
poiuliny  secretaiy,  at  an  expense  of  about  three  thousand  live 
hundred  pounds.  In  the  })refacc  to  the  last  edition  it  is  stated 
that  "this  sum  has  not  be(m  abstracted  from  the  fuiuls  set 
apart  for  relief  during  sickii(>ss,  for  assurances  at  death,  oi"  for 
providing  for  necessitous  widoNVs  and  orjdiau:-:,  but  from  the 
nianagenu'nt  funds  of  the?  lod^-es — ftinds  which,  l)eing  gcTU'rally 
raised  l)y  direct  levy  on  tlie  nu'Mibcrs,  are  not,  therefore,  readily 
expended  without  careful  consideration  on  the  }>art  of  those 
most  interested  in  the  character  and  \v(dtare  of  their  cherisliod 
institution." 

We  btdieve  that  tiuu'  and  ex|)rrience  will  enable  the  leaders 
of  frieiuUy  socii  ties  g.-uerally  io  iuii)rove  them,  and  introduce 
now  anudiorations.  The  l)est  institutions  are  things  of  sIom* 
growth,  and  are  hha[)ed  ])y  experience,  w]ii(di  includes  failures 
as  well  as  successes;  and  liually,  they  i'e<piireago  to  strengtlieu 
them  and  root  them  in  habit.  I'lu'  rudest  sixdety  established 
by  worki.  g-men  for  mutual  ludj)  in  sickm^ss,  iude[)endent  of 
help  from  })ri\ate  charity  or  the  poor-rates,  is  grounded  on  a 
right  spirit,  aud  is  deserving  of  every  encouragement.  It  fur- 
nishes a  foundation  on  wdiiidi  to  build  up  sonuithing  better.  Jt 
t(!a(dies  s(df-reliance,  and  tlius  culti\ates  among  the  humhlest 
classes  habits  of  provident  ecovunny. 

b^deudly  societies  began  thidr  operations  l)efore  there  was  any 
science  of  vitil  statistics  to  guide  them;  and  if  they  have  made 
mistakes  in  nuitual  as;-^'.:''ance,  thev  have  not  stood  alone.  Look- 
ing  at  cht^  dil1iculti(,'s  they  have  had  to  encounter,  they  arc 
entitled  to  be  judged  (diarilably.  Gooil  advice  given  tlu^n  inn 
kindly  s[)irit  will  not  fail  to  produce  good  results.  The  defects 
which  arc  mixed  up  with  them  are  to  be  regarded  as  but  the 
tnvnsient  integument  which  will  most  probablv  fall  awav  as  tlie 
flower  ripens  and  the  fruit  nuitures. 


CHAPTER  YIIT. 


SAVI\(;S-IiANKS. 


"I  wisli  I  cnuld  write  all  acioss  the  sl;y,  in  letters  of  ffohl,  tlie  one  M'onl, 
Saviiig.'i-bank." — IJr.v.   W.m.  Maksii. 

"The  only  tine  se.'ret  of  dssistiiij,'  tlie  jpoor  is  to  niiike  them  agents  in 
bettering  their  own  condition."    -.A uciiiusiioi'  Sr.MNKi;. 

"Qui  ()  vingt  ne  sait,  a  ti'ente  no  ]ient,  a  quarante  n'a  —jamais  nc  saura, 
ne  pourra,  n'anra. " — Fi\iirh  fronr/i. 

"  Oo  to  the  ant,  thou  slugganl ;  consider  her  ways,  and  ho  wise;  wliieli 
hiiving  no  guide,  overseer,  or  ruler,  providetii  her  meat  in  the  summer,  and 
<,':itlH'r(^tli  her  food  in  the  harvest." — Pruvrrlis  vi.,  (iS. 

IT  is  saiil  that  tlicro  is  a  Hkidctoii  in  oxovy  lioiistdiold.  Tlie 
slcelotoii  is  locked  iij)  --])ut  ;>\vay  in  ;i,  cupbonnl — and  rarely 
seen.  C)nl\'"  the  people  inside  tlir^  lionso  know  ol'  its  existence. 
Iiiit  the  sktd(don,  nevertla-less,  can  not  lon:i(  V)e  conct'aled.  It 
eonies  to  liu'ht  in  some  \va\'  or  another.  Tlie  most  common 
dceleton  is  Povcu'tv.  l\)vertv,  savs  j.on'dns  Jerrold,  is  the 
groat  secret,  kept  at  any  i)ains  Ity  one-half  tin;  world  from  the 
otluM- half.  Wlien  tliere  isnothiiiL;;  laid  by — nothinij^  saved  to 
relie\e  sitdcness  when  it  comes— notliin^-  to  alleviate  the  wants 
of  old  a<j;e — is  the  sk(det(ML  hidden  away  in  many  a  cnpboard. 

In  a  country  such  as  this,  where  l)nsiness  is  often  brought  to 
a  stand-still  l)y  ovel•tradin^•  and  overspceidation,  many  masters, 
clerks,  and  w^ork-people  are  thrown  out  of  employment,  Th(\y 
must  wait  until  better  times  come  round.  Ihit  in  tlu;  nuNan 
time  how  are  th(;y  to  live?  Ifthry  have  accunudatiMl  no  sav- 
ings, nnd  have  nothing  laid  by,  they  are  comj)aratively  destitiit(\ 

Kveu  the  co-operative  cotton-mills,  or  co-o[)erative  banks, 
which  are  nothing  more  than  joint-stock  com])anies,  limited,* 


M^ 


ff-:   ■  ■U  -;i 


i    1 


*  "  The  new  cotton  factories  whi(di  have  been  called  co-operative,  and 
whicli,  under  that  name,  have  brought  together  large  numbers  of  sluire- 


120 


Direct  SdViiKj. 


[criA? 


VIII. 


iiiiiy  become  baHkru|)t.  Tliey  iii;iy  not  ])e  able,  as  was  tlie  case 
during  the  cotton  iiimiiie,  to  compete  with  hii\i;e  capitalists  in 
the  [mrchase  of  cotton,  or  in  tiie  })ro(luction  of  cotton  twist. 
Co-operative  com])anies  established  for  the  [lurpose  of  nianut'uo- 
turini^'  are  proliably  of  too  sj)eculative  a  character  to  atfonl 
nmch  lasting;  b(,'uetit  to  the  woi'kinij;-classes  ;  and  it  seems  that 
by  tar  the  safer  course  for  tlieiu  to  pursue,  in  times  sucli  as  the 
present,  is  In'  means  of  siutple,  direct  saving.  There  niay  be 
less  chance  of  gain,  but  theri;  is  less  risk  of  loss.  What  is  laid 
by  is  not  locked  uj>  and  contiugcut  for  its  ]>roductivene-.s  upon 
times  and  ti-ade,  l)ut  is  steadilv  accumulatinu',  and  is  alwavs 
ready  at  hand  for  use  whtni  the  pinch  of  adversity  occairs. 

Mr.  liright  stated  in  the  House  of  Commons,  in  l<SGO,f  that 
the  incoiue  of  the  working-classes  was  *' undei'stated  at  three 
hundred  and  twelve  millions  a  year.  Looking  at  the  increase 
of  wages  which  has  tak(;u  plac(^  during  the  last  iifteen  years, 
their  income  must  now  auuaiiit  to  at  least  four  luindnjd  mil- 
lions. Surely,  out  of  this  large  fund  of  earnings,  the  working- 
classes  might  easily  sa\e  from  thii'ty  t(  forty  millions  yearly. 
At  all  e\'ents,  they  miglit  saAe  such  an  amount  as,  if  properly 
used  and  <luly  economized,  could  not  fail  to  esta1)lish  lai'ge  num- 
bers of  them  in  circumstances  of  comfort,  antl  e\en  of  com- 
parative wealth. 

The  instances  which  we  have  alreatly  cited  of  })ersons  in  the 
hund)ler  ranks  of  life  having  by  [>rudential  forethought  accu- 

lidldevs  of  tilt'  wago  classes,  arc  all  now  in  reality  coninion  joint-stock 
conijianics,  witli  liinitcil  liiilnlity.  The  so-called  co-o])crative  share- 
holders iu  the  leadiii,n'  estahlishmcnts  decided,  a.s  I  am  informed,  hy  lai'fje 
majorities,  tlcit  1ho  woikers  shonid  only  be  ])aid  wiiges  in  the  ordinary 
manner,  and  shonid  not  divide  prolits.  The  wages  l)eing  for  pieec-work, 
it  was  held  that  the  payment  was  in  accordance  with  commnnistie  priii- 
eijile,  '  ea(di  according  to  his  cajiacity,  each  acconiin;^  to  Ids  work."  The 
eonunon  spinner  had  inul  no  share  in  the  work  of  the  j^tnu'ral  direction, 
nor  had  Im  t^vinced  any  of  the  ea])acity  or  thrift  of  foresi^jht  of  the  capi- 
talist, and  why  shonid  he  share  proiits  as  if  he  had  ?  The  wage  class,  in 
their  eai)acity  of  shaic-hohh'rs,  decided  that  it  was  an  luijnst  claim  upon 
their  [irolits,  and  kept  them  undivided  to  themselves." — Edwin  Chad- 
WICK,  (\F.. 

t  Speech  on  the  Representation  of  the  People  Bill. 


CHAP.  VIII.] 


Uses  of  Savrd  Money. 


121 


nml;itc<l  a  cousideral^lc  store,  of  saviiii^'s  Tor  tlio  bcuofit  of  their 
fanu]i«~s,  mid  as  a  stay  for  tlioir  old  ajuv,  need  not  liy  niiy  mofins 
lie  the  coin{);irativ(vly  oxccptioiKil  oases  tliat  tliey  arc  now. 
Wliat  ono  wcll-rfunlatod  ]>orNi>n  is  able  to  do.  otlicM's,  iidluenood 
hy  similar  self  reliant  niotises.  and  praelisin;:^  ]ik(!  sobriety  and 
fragality,  luiijflit  with  e([ual  case  and  in  one  way  or  another  ao- 
coinplish.  A  iiian  wlio  has  more  money  about  iiim  tlian  he 
i('((iiires  for  current  [)nr|ios(\s.  is  t(>mj»ted  to  s))eiid  it.  To  use 
tli(3  common  [thrase,  it  is  apt  to  '■  bni-n  a  hole  in  liis  pocket." 
He  may  1)0  tiasily  ciitrapix'd  into  company  ;  and  wheie  Jiis  home 
j»rovides  but  small  comfort,  tlie  })id)lic  house,  with  its  bright 
fire,  is  always  I'eady  to  welcome  him. 

It  often  happens  that  workmen  lose  their  emjiloyment  in 
"  liad  times."  Mc^rcantile  ci:tncerns  become  baiikrii|)t,  clerks 
are  paid  olf,  and  s(M"vants  art?  dismissed  wiu^n  their  masters  can 
110  loii<;er  employ  them.  If  the  disemployed  p(>ople  ha.ve  been 
hi  the  habit  of  rt'^ularlv  consunn'uu,'  all  tlieii- salaries  and  watres, 
without  layiuij  any  tiling'  by,  their  case  is  about  the  most 
pitiable  that  can  b(>  imauined.  Ihit  if  ihey  have  sa\'ed  sonie- 
tliinij,  at  home  or  in  the  siivinus-bank.  tlu>v  Avill  be  enabled  to 
l)feak  their  fall.  'I'iiev  will  obtain  some  ))reathinii'  time  before 
iliey  again  fall  into  employment.  Su[)[)ose  they  hav(^  as  nuich 
as  ten  ponnds  saved.  Ft  may  seem  a  very  litth;  sum,  yet  in 
distress  it  amounts  to  mu<'h.  It  may  even  jirove  a  man's  pass- 
[lurt  to  future  independenfie. 

With  ten  pounds,  a  Avorkman  might  remov(!  fioni  one  dis- 
trict to  another  wliei'e  emphnnient  is  more  al)undnnt.  With 
ten  ])ounds,  he  might  emigrate  to  ( 'anada  oi"  the  United  States, 
where  his  labor  might  be  in  ie([uest.  Witlujut  this  little  store 
of  savings,  he  might  Ix;  rootcnl  to  his  native  sj)ot,  like  a  limpet 
to  the  lock.  If  a  married  man  with  a  fauiily,  liis  ten  pounds 
would  save  his  home  from  wreckage,  and  his  liousehold  from 
destitution.  Ifis  ten  pounds  would  kee})  the  wolf  from  the  door 
until  bettta' times  came  round.  Ten  pounds  would  keej)  many  a 
sci'vant-girl  from  ruin,  give  lu^-  time  to  i-ecruit  her  health, 
perhaps  wasted  by  hanl  work,  and  enable  her  to  look  about 
for  a  suitable  place,  instead  of  rushing  into  the  first  that  offered. 

We  do  not  value  money  foi*  its  own  sake,  and  M'e  should  be 


!^:| 


1 


r^ 


1 

U     I 
i 

,^'  '41 

i 

122 


Begmnings  of  Savings-hanks.  [chap.  viii. 


the  hiHt  to  cm^our.iLT  a  uiiscilv  dosirc  to  lio:ir(l  union'' aiiv  cluss  ; 
but  wo  cannot  licl|)  rt^t'o/^'iiizing  iji  nionoy  tlu;  means  of  lite,  tlie 
moans  of  comfort,  the  mc^ans  of  maintaining  an  lioncst  indu- 
pon(h'nco.  AVe  wouhl,  therefore,  rocomnn.'nil  every  youni(  man 
and  every  vonui;  woman  to  be'dn  life  bv  h^arnini;  to  savi;  ;  to 
hiy  ii[)  for  the  fntnni  a  cert;'.in  jiortion  (jf  I'voy  week's  (s-irnin^s, 
be  it  little  or  much  ;  to  avoid  consuming  every  Aveek  or  every 
year  the  earnings  of  that  we(^k  or  year;  and  we  counsel  them 
to  do  this,  as  they  would  avoitl  the  horrors  of  dependence,  desti- 
tution, or  l)eggar3\  AVe  would  have  men  and  women  of  every 
class  able  to  hel}>  themselves — relying  uj)on  their  own  resourct's 
— uj)on  their  own  sax'ings  ;  for  it  is  a  true  saying  tlia.t  "  a  pemiy 
in  thi^  purse  is  Ixitter  than  a  fri(Uid  at  court."  The  first  pmniy 
saved  is  a  ste[)  in  the  world.  TIk;  fact  of  its  Ijeiug  saved  and 
laid  by  indicates  self-denial,  forethought,  pi'udence.  wisdom.  It 
may  be  the  germ  of  future  hap[»iness.  It  may  l)e  the  beginning 
of  in(h>pendence. 

( 'obbett  v/as  accustomed  to  scoff  at  the  "  bubbhs"  of  savings- 
banks,  alleging  that  it  wits  an  insult  to  pcu)i)h!  to  tell  them  that 
they  had  anything  to  sa\  e.  Yet  the  extent  to  which  savings- 
banks  Jiave  been  used,  (^ven  by  the  hundilest  classes,  proves  that 
he  was  as  .much  mistaken  in  this  as  lu'.  was  in  many  of  the  \ievs 
which  he  maintained.  There  are  tiiousando  of  persons  who 
would  probably  never  have  thought  of  laying  by  a  penny,  hut 
for  the  facilitv  of  the  savings-bank  :  it  would  have  seemed  so 
useless  to  try.  The  small  hoard  in  the  cupboard  was  too  ready 
at  hand,  and  would  hiive  becuine  dissipated  before  it  accumulated 
to  any  amount ;  but  no  soon(n-  was  a  jdace  of  deposit  pi'ovided, 
where  sums  as  small  as  a  shilling  could  bo  put  away,  than  people 
hastened  to  take  a(l\  antage  of  it. 

The  first  savings-bank  was  start(Ml  by  Miss  I'riscilla  Wako- 
field,  in  the  parish  of  Tottenham,  iMiddlesex,  toward  the  close 
of  last  century  ;  her  object  being  mainly  to  stinuilate  the  frug- 
ality of  poor  children.  The  experiment  provf3d  so  successful 
that  in  17'J9  the  liev.  Josej)!!  Smith,  of  Wendon,  commenced  a 
])lan  of  receiving  small  sums  from  his  parishioners  during  sum- 
mer, and  returning  them  at  Christmas,  with  the  addition  of  one- 
tliird  as  a  stiundus  to  piudeuce  and  forethought.     Miss  Wake- 


CHAP.  VIII.] 


Beghmings  of  Snvings-bonks. 


123 


field,  in  her  turn,  followed  IMi-.  Smith's  oxainjdc.  and  in  1804 
pxtendcnl  her  plan  of  her  cliarit.iMc  banlc,  so  jis  to  include  adult 
liiltorci's,  female  servants,  and  otlici's.  A  siuiilarinstitution  wan 
formed  at  15;'.tli,  in  ISOS,  In'  scncrid  ladies  of  tli.it  eity  ;  and 
;il)()iit  till'  same  tinn;  .Mi\  Wliitelavad  [H'ojtoscu'  to  J'arli;iment 
the  Ibrmation  of  a  national  institution,  •'  in  tlie  nature  (^f  a  hank 
tor  the  use  and  advanta^f  of  the  lahorini;"  classes  aloiu?  :"  hut 
iiothini(  came  of  his  |)ro])os;d. 

It  was  not  until  tin;  l\ev.  Henry  Duncan,  the  minister  of 
ituthwoll,  a  |>ooi-  parish  in  I  himfiiesshire,  took  up  tin;  sid)ject, 
that  tlie  savings-bank  system  ma\  he  said  to  have  heconte  fairlv 
inauf,'uratcd.  The  inhabitants  of  that  parish  we-r*.'  mostly  poor 
cotta^ei's.  whose  a\"erage  Wii.<j;es  ditl  not  amount  to  more  than 
oi^fjit  shillin,ns  a  vcelc.  7  ■ere  were  no  mamrf'aeturers  in  the 
(listi'ict,  noj'  any  meajis  of  sei)sisti'nce  t'ov  the  population  (ixeept 
what  wa.s  derived  fi'om  the  land  inuler  cultivation  ;  and  the 
kiul-owner.s  were  for  the  most  part  non-resident.  It  seemed  a 
vorv  nnlikelv  i)lace  in  which  to  establish  a  bank  foi-  savini^s, 
where  the  poor  people  were  ali-eady  obliged  to  strain  e\ery 
nerve  to  earn  a  l»are  living-,  to  provide  the  meauji  of  educating 
their  children  (for,  liowever  small  his  income,  the  Scottish 
p(>asant  almost  invarialdy  contrives  to  save  sonu'thing  where- 
with to  send  liis  chihlren  to  school),  and  to  pay  their  little  con- 
tril)utions  to  the  friendly  society  of  the  ))ai'ish.  Nevertheless, 
the  nunister  resolved,  as  a  help  to  his  s[)iritual  instructions,  to 
try  the  experiment. 

Not  many  laboring  men  mav  ap[ti'ehend  the  deep  arguments 
of  the  religions  teacher;  ])ut  the  least  intelligent  cati  appreciate 
It  bit  of  practical  advice  that  tells  on  the  well-being  of  his  hou.se- 
liohl  as  well  as  en  the  laborer's  o\\'u  dailv  comfort  and  si'lf- 
lespect.  Dr.  Duncan  knew  that,  e\en  in  the  poorest  family, 
there  were  odds  and  ends  of  income  aj)t  to  be  frittered  away  in 
uiiiiecessarv  expenditure.  He  y,ii\v  some  thi'iftv  cottagers  using 
the  expedient  of  a  cow,  or  a  ])ig,  or;i  bit  of  garden-groinid,  as  a 
savings-bank,  finding  their  return  of  interest  in  the  sh!i])e  of 
butter  and  milk,  winter's  baeon,  or  garden-produce  ;  and  it 
occurred  to  him  that  there  were  other  villagers,  single  men  and 
young  women,  for  whom  aomc  analogous  mode  of  storing  away 


1  <• 


J  ■     i  ■ 


\h.r   <r 


I  I. 


■  ■.i 


mm 


i  ► 


■'Ml 


124 


Dr.  Duncan,  of  Thdhwell. 


[chap.  VIII. 


thoii'  summer's  savinfijs  mipjht  bo  provi'led,  and  a  fair  rate  of  in- 
terest returned  upon  their  little  investiiicnls. 

H(Uioe  eriifinated  the  parish  sa\  ings-l»;iiik  of  lliithwell,  ijic! 
first  se]f->:upi)()i'tiiig  institution  of  the  kind  established  in  thi.s 
country.  Tiiat  the  minister  wiis  not  wron^  in  his  antieijiatinns 
was  proved  by  the  fact  that,  in  the  course  of  foui"  yeai's,  tlu; 
funds  of  his  saving, ;-baids  nmounted  to  neai'ly  a  thousand 
pounds.  And  if  pf)oi'  \ill!u:,-ers  out  of  ei;;lit  shillinifs  a  wiick,  junl 
female  laborei's  and  s(!rviints  out  of  n)uch  less,  could  lay  aside 
this  sum,  what  mi<,dit  not  mechanics,  artisans,  miners,  and  ireji- 
workei's  accomjdish,  who  earn  from  thirty  to  lifty  shillin;^s  it 
week  all  the  year  round  ? 

The  exiunnle  s«t  by  Dr.  Duncnu  wasfoUowinl  in  many  towns 
and  districts  in  En<,dand  and  Scothind.  In  every  instance  tin; 
model  of  the  lluthwell  parisli  b.ink  was  fcdiowed;  and  the  solf- 
sustainin,i;  printdple  was  ado}»ted.  The  savin,i,'s-l)anks  tlins 
instituted  w(M"e  nf)t  eleemosynary  institutions,  nor  dependent 
upon  anybody's  chai'ity  or  patron.-i^e  ;  l)ut  their  success  rested 
entirely  with  the  de[)ositors  themselv^'s.  They  encouritged  the 
industi'ious  clnsses  to  rc'.y  upon  their  own  resources,  to  exercise 
f(n-e thought  and  economy  in  the  c<jnduct  ot  lif(;,  to  cherish  self 
r(^spect  and  self-deiieudence,  and  to  |»rovide  for  tlveir  comfort  and 
mainteufince  in  old  age.  by  the  careful  use  of  the  j)roducts  ot' 
their  industry,  instead  of  having  to  rely  for  aid  u[)on  the  thank- 
less dole  of  a  begrudg(>d  poor-rate. 

The  establishment  of  savings-banks  wudi  these  objects  nt 
Imigth  began  to  b(^  rec(|gni/.ed  as  a  matter  of  national  concern; 
and  in  1817  an  act  was  ])assed  which  s(>rved  to  increase  tlicir 
number  and  extend  their  usefulness.  Various  measui-es  have 
since  been  adopted  with  the  object  of  increasing  th(>ir  etiiciencv 
and  security.  I>ut  notwithstanding  the  great  good  which  tlu'sc 
institutions  hav(>  accomplished,  it  is  still  ob\ious  that  tlHH>c(t('r 
jtaid  chisses  of  worl<:-[HM)ph)  avail  th('n)S(dves  of  tliem  to  only  ii 
very  limited  extent.  A  very  small  [tortion  of  the  foui*  liuKdrtMl 
millions  estimat(?d  to  be  annually  earned  by  the  workinj,'- 
classes  finds  its  way  to  tlu^  sa\ings-baidc,  while  at  least  twenty 
times  th(^  amount  is  spent  annually  at.  the  beer  shoj)  and  tlio 
public-house. 


CHAP.  VIII.] 


Classes  of  Depositors. 


125 


It  is  not  the  highly  ]>iii(l  chiss  of  working  ni;Mi  and  wonion 
who  invest  nione}'  in  the  savings-hanks,   bnt  tliose  who  earn 

hM'ate    incomes.     Tlins    the   most   numerous 


comj 


larativelv    mo( 


class  of  depositors  in  th(>  INla-nchestcr  and  SaU'ord   iSavings-hank 
is  that  of  domestic  servants.      After  tlieui  raid;  clerks,  sliop-nien, 


\>o\ 


ters,  and  ndners.      (hdv  al.out  a   (Idi'd   i>;;i't  of  the  deiiosits 


ix'longs  to  th(^  op(n'ati\'e.s.  artisans,  and  niclianics.  Jl  is  the 
same  in  manufacturing  districts  generally.  A  few  years  since, 
it  was  found  that  of  the  numerous  female  deposiioi's  at  I'undee 
oulv  one  was  a  factorv  worker  :  the  rest  wei'c  for  the  nu)st  ])art 
servants. 

There  is  another  fa<'t  that  is  i'eniai'l.:al'le.  The  hahit  of  saving 
docs  not  S'>  much  })revail  in  tliose  (•(.unties  where  wages  are  the 
liiglu^st  as  in  those  counties  where  wages  are  the  lowest. 
Previous  to  the  ei'a  ol"  |)ost  ollice  sa\ings-liauks,  the  inhahitauts 


Lif  Wilts  and  Dorset    -where  w 


ili'es  :i 


realtont  the  lowest  in   Mug- 


laud —  deposited  more  nieney  in  tie-  ;;;i\  ings-Saiiks,  per  head  of 
tla^  population,  than  they  did  in  Lanc:isliir(^  ;ind  N'orkshire. 
wIku'o  wages  ar(>  altout  the  hi,<;liest  in  Mngland.  Taking 
Yorkshire  itself,  and  (li\  iding  it  into  nianufacturing  and  agri- 
cultural, the  manufacturing  inhal)itaiits  of  the  West  Hiding  of 
Yoi'k  invested  ahont  tweidv  ti\e  shillings  pel-  head  of  the 
liopnlati(»n  in  the  sa\  ings  h.Muks  ;  w 
tiou  of  the  I'last  IMding  invested  about  three  times  that  amount. 


hile  the  auiicnltnral  popula 


l*ri\'at(!  soldiei's  are  paid  inucii  less  wages  per  W(>ek  than  the 
lo\V(;st-paid  workm(Mi,  and  yet  they  put  more  money  in  (he 
s,ivini>:s-l)anks  than  workmen  who  are  paid  from  thirt\-  to  fortv 
sliillings  a  week.  Soldiers  ai('  generally  supposed  to  be  a 
liiU'tiiadarly  thoughtless  class.  Indeed,  they  ai'c  sometimes  held 
up  to  odium  as  iH^'kless  and  dissohitt'  ;  lait  the  nnliraiT  s!\\  ings- 
liauk  njtiu'us  refute  the  vilification,   and  pro\e  that  the  i'.ritish 


so 


Idler  is  as  sober,   well-(!iscipliiu>i!,   and   iVuL;al   a 


s   we   a 


li'ea(b 


know  him  to  be  brav(^  Most  peoph^  forg(!t  that  tlu>  soldier  must 
l)t'  ob(>dic>nt,  sober,  and  honest..  If  he  is  a  druid<ai'd,  he  is  pun- 
ished ;  if  he  is  dislionest,  lu;  is  drunnne(l  out  of  the  rc^uiment. 

W(mderfid  is  tln^  magic  of  Drill  !  Drill  means  discipline, 
training,  education.  The  lirst  drill  of  every  people  is  military. 
It  has  been  tho  lir.st  education  of  nations.  T^ho  <luty  of  obedienoo 


■A       '■'''' 

< « 


l!!""   i; 


I 


12C 


Magic  of  Drill. 


[chap.  viu. 


is  tlius  taught  on  a  large  scale — submission  to  authority  ;  united 
action  under  a  common  head.  These  soldiers — who  are  ready 
to  mMrtdi  steadily  against  vollied  fire,  against  belching  cannon, 
up  fortress  heights,  or  to  beat  their  heads  against  bristlinif 
bayonets,  as  they  did  at  Badajos  —  were  once  tailors,  shoe- 
makers, mechuiiics,  delvers,  weavei'S,  and  ploughmen  ;  with 
mouths  gaping,  shoulders  stooping,  feet  straggling,  arms  and 
hands  like  giout  fins  hanging  l)y  their  sides  ;  but  now  their  giiit 
is  firm  and  martial,  their  figures  are  erect,  and  they  mau-ii 
along,  to  tlie  sound  of  music,  with  a  tread  that  makes  the  earth 
shake.      Such  is  the  wonderful  power  of  drill. 

Nations,  as  they  become  civilizful,  adopt  other  methods  of  dis- 
ciplillt^  The  drill  becomes  industiial.  Conquest  and  destruction 
give  [dace  to  production  in  many  forms.  And  what  trophies 
Industry  has  won,  what  sk'll  has  it  exercised,  what  labors  has 
it  perforuKMl  !  Every  industrial  process  is  pei-formed  V)y  drilled 
bands  of  artisans.  (Jo  into  Vorkshire  and  Ijaiicashire,  and  you 
will  lind  armies  of  drilled  laborers  at  work,  whei'e  the  discijdino 
is  perfect,  and  the  results,  as  regards  the  amount  of  manufactur- 
ed productions  turned  out  of  hand,  are  i)ro(ligious. 

On  elficient  drilling  and  disci[)line  men's  success  as  iiulivi- 
duals,  and  as  societies,  entirely  d(4>ends.  The  most  self 
dependeut  man  is  luidei*  discipline;  and  the  moi-e  jxM'fect  the 
discipline,  the  more  com[)lete  his  condition.  A  num  must  drill 
his  desires,  and  koep  them  under  subjection  ;  he  nnist  obey  the 
word  of  commantl,  otherwise  he  isthe  spoi-t  of  passion  and  impidsc. 
The  religious  man's  life  is  full  of  disci)iliiu>  and  self-restraint. 
The  man  of  busiisess  is  entirely  subject  to  system  and  rul(\  Tho 
happii^st  home  is  that  where  tlie  discijdine  is  the  most  jierfect, 
and  yet  where  it  is  the  least  felt.  We  at  length  beconui  sid»jet't 
to  it  as  to  a  law  of  nature,  and  while  it  binds  us  firndy,  yet  wo 
feel  it  not.     TIk^  forct*  of  habit  is  but  the  forc^e  of  drill. 

One  dai'o  scarc(dy  hint,  in  these  days,  at  tin;  necessity  for 
eonijiulsoiy  consciiplion  ;  and  yet,  were  the  people  at  laij;(' 
compelled  to  pass  through  the  disi'i|>line  of  the  army,  the 
country  would  be  sti'ongei',  llus  people  would  bo  soberer, 
and  (ii'il't  would  become  nuudi  more  iiabitual  tlian  it  is  at 
pro^eni. 


4!c  t'lisaj 


CHAP.  VI 11.] 


Military  ^avings-hanhs. 


12; 


^lilitiiry  siiviiigs-])auks  wore  llrst  oUi^ijcstoil  by  I'sivmaster 
Fairfowl,  in  ISIO  ;  aiul  altuut  ten  yciii's  later  tlio  ([uestion  was 
attain  raised  by  (.'olouel  Oglaiulei-,  of  the  Twent-sixth  Foot 
(Cainerouiaiis).  The  sulvjeet  was  Ijroiiylit  under  the  iiotiee  of 
tlie  late  Duke  oi"  Wrlliui^ftou,  and  ncLiatixcd  ;  the  duke  makinji^ 
the  followin«j  niemoranduui  o!i  the  subject :  " 'J'liere  is  notliini,' 
that  I  know  of  to  present  a  soldici-,  ('(|ually  with  others  of  his 
majesty's  sul)Jeels,  fi-oui  imcstiuy'  his  nutncy  in  saAin<i;s-l)aMks. 
If  there  ])e  any  iiii|iedinient,  it  should  l)e  taken  away;  but  I 
doubt  the  expediency  of  yoiiii;  I'lrther." 

The  idea,  however.  se«'nis  to  haA(^  occurred  to  the  duke,  tliat 
the  |)i'oposal  to  facilitat  '  the  savinii'of  money  by  |)ii\afe  soldiers 
iiiiy;ht  be  turned  to  account  in  the  way  of  a  re<lucti(»n  in  the 
aiiny  e\]ienditure,  and  he  characteristically  a<lde(l  :  "  Has  :i 
solilier  more  pay  than  he  r<'([uires  ^  If  he  has,  it  should  be 
lowered,  not  to  those  now  in  the  ser\  ice.  but  t»>  those  enlisted 
licrealter."  No  on(%  howexcr,  could  alie^'c  that  the  pav  of  the 
|iri\ate  soldier  was  exct'ssive,  and  it  was  not  likely  that  any 
jiroposal  to  lower  it  would  be  entertained. 

The  subject  of  saving's- banks  tor  the  army  was  allow(Ml  to 
lost  for  ii  tiiiu',  lait,  l)v  the  assistaiicf  of  Sir  James  Mc(irejL'"or 
aiul  liord  llowick,  a  scheuu'  was  at  h'nyjth  appro\'ed  and  linally 
ostiililish(;d  in  ISl'i.  The  result  has  prosed  satisfactory  in  an 
ciiiinent  deijfree,  and  speaks  well  for  the  charai'ter  of  the  Urilish 
soldier.  It  ap]M>ars  fiom  a  paper  |)reseiit('d  (.0  the  House  of 
♦  'oinmons  souk!  years  a;4'o,  i;i\iuu'  the  details  of  the  suxin^s 
fticfted  by  the  respective  corjis.  that  (he  men  of  tlie  Itoyal 
Artillery  had  saxed  o\er  twenty-three  thousand  pounds,  or  a,n 
iiV('i'a«>;e  of  sixtetni  )>ounds  to  eat  h  depositor.  Thi-se  sa\  iui^s 
\\('rc  madt!  out  of  a  daily  pay  of  one  and  (hi'eepcnce,  and  a 
|M'iiny  Cor  beer  nioney,  or  eipial  to  'd'out  nine  and  sixpenci^ 
M  \ve(dc,  suliject  t(»  stmdry  deductions  for  extra  (dothinn'.  AiLfain. 
llic  men  of  th(^  Ivoyal  Kn^ineeis  -  mostly  drawn  from  the  skilled 
iiii'cliaincal  class  h.-id  sa\ed  nearly  twelve  ihousaiid  pounds, 
'M' ,111  average  of  about  twenty  pounds  for  ea(l!  depositor.  The 
rweiily-sixth  l{t\i,nment  of  the  liiu^  (( 'amcroniaiis).  whose  pay  is 
ii  sliilliuii'  !<  day  and  a  piMinv  foi'  beer,  saved  (>\er  Ibui-  thousand 
l»oiiii(ls.      'l\v(»  hundied  and  lifty   men  of  (he  first  battalion,  or 


:    •  i    ;    f  4  ^ 
\    ■:',"    1,1:  ' 


m   \   ' 


'■  'I ' 

% 

■■  i  f '  I  i 
i   ■  - 


I 


Ii 


128 


Soldkrs  Ahmad. 


[chap.  VIII.        ■      CHAP,   \ 


ouc-thiril  (»l' tli(^  corjis,   wcM't;  dcpositor.s  in  the  saviiigs-biink,  ami 
their  savings  ainouutud  to  uhout  seventeen  [)ounils  }»er  man. 


P>ut  this  is  not  mU.      I'vivate  soldiers,  out  of  tlieii-  small  e 


ini- 


ings,  ;ir('  aecnstonicfl  to  remit  eonsidei'al)le  sums  tln'ougli  the 
post oHiee  lo  tlieii"  pool- relations  at  home.  i.n  one  year,  twenty- 
two  thousand  pounds  wer((  thus  sent  fi'om  Ali'ershot — tlic 
axt'rage  ainount  (>f"  caeli  money  order  heing  twenty-one  shillhiu;.s 
and    toui'piMiee.      And   it'  men   with  s(;ven   shillings  and  sev 


»enee  ii 


wet'k  can  do  so  nnicli,  what  miulit  not  skilled  Avorkn 


eii- 

U'll 


do,  whose  earnings  amount  to  tVom  two  to  three  pounds  a,  week. 

Soldiers  ser\  ing  ahroad  during  arduous  eampaigns  have  proved 

thcniseh'cs  to  he  e<|ua,lly  thoughli'ul  and  ])ro\ident.     During  tlio 


war  ni  the  (  rinu 


th 


le  soldu'rs  and  seamen  sent  home  thi'oiii-ii 


ith 


the  moni'V-ordei'  olliee  seventy-oni;  thousand  pounds,  and  the 
army  works  corps  thirty-hvt>  tliousand  pounds.  Aloi-e  than  a 
year  het'oiH^  the  money-order  system  was  introduced  at  Scutari, 
Miss  Nightingale  took  charge  of  tlu;  soldiers'  savings.  She 
found  tluMU  most  willing  to  abridge  th(n*i"  own  comforts  or  in- 
dulgences, foi'  the  sake  of  others  dear  to  them,  as  well  as  tnr 
their  own  future  well-heing;  and  she  dexotecl  an  afternoon  in 
e\-erv  week  lo  recei  \  ing  and  forwarding  iheii- savings  to  Kngl; 


She  i-emi 


tied 


tl 


nianv  tUonsami  pounds  in  tins  mannei'.  an( 


d  it 


mil, 
was 


<lirtril»uted  l>y  ;i  Iriend  in  London — much  of  it  to  the  remotest 
corners  of  Scotland  and  Ii'cland.  And  it  alforded  some  evidence 
that  the  seed  fell  in  good  places  (as  well  as  of  tli(^  |)um'tunlity 
of  the  posl<iHice).  that  of  the  whole  number  of  renuttances  all 
lint  one  were  dul\   aek  nowleilgei !. 

Ai;ain,  then"  is  not  a  regiment  returning  from  India  hut 
brings  home  with  it  a  store  of  sa\ings.  In  the  year  iStiO.  after 
the  Indian  Mutiny,  more  than  twenty  tlio\isand  pounds  were 
rtiniltetl  on  account  of  in\alided  men  sent-  back  to  hhigland  ; 
besides  wdnch  there  were  eight  regiments  wiiicli  bro\ight  lienii' 
balances  to  tlieii'  credits  in  the  .egimental  banks  amounting  to 
.t  M),4Ul».*     'riit^iighest  was  the    Might  v-ibnrth,  whose  savinu's  ■   (1 


*'rii(' sinus  ^.'iit  Ikmmc  liy  soidiiTs  -urvini;  in  India  i'oi'  tlic  lii'iiclil  i>l' 
friiaiils  luid  odativ!'^  are  nut  iii.Uided  in  tliese  ainDUnts,  tlic  reniillainis 
lttdn,i;'  made  direct  liy  llie  pay-in;, >>icr.s  of  I'cginicnls,  and  nut  tlinaigli  tli<-' 
aavinj^fs-banks. 


amount 

tiie  hen 

saved  c£ 

iimha-  I 

of  the 

amount 

wliicli  r( 

soldiei's. 

And) 

tlic    mil 

access   t( 

many  of 

spare  mo 

lianks;    i 

MS  to  tlie 

sergeant 

lliis,  the 

know  th; 

the  thrif 

own,    i.s 

^\\\u\  {)':  I 

Tile  sa 

depositiii! 

like  it  U 

money,  In 

lo  lowei-  ( 

who  had  ( 

which   hi,' 

die  door  ( 

wa.s  abseil 

wailin«>-. 

The  mi 
the  sa\iinj 
liui  tlieir 
tlicir  enip 


'Tim  iiino 
'^hircli,  187  J 


i    <■ 


CHAP.  VIII.] 


Deposits  in  Savuif/shn/iks. 


129 


amountod  to  .£0718.  The  Scvonty-eiohtli  (lloss-sliiiv  Buffs), 
the  li(n-()(!S  Avlio  foIlDwed  Havelock  on  his  iiiiiich  <in  Luckiiow, 
siivt'd  .£*()48();  aiul  tlic  pillaut  Thirty-socoiHl,  who  held  LiK-kiiow 
under  Lii^jjlis,  saved  .t~)'2(')'.\.  The  Kijjjhtv-sixtli,  tlic  first  hatralion 
of  the  Tentli,  aiul  the  Ninth  J)ra,u(K)ns.  all  hr(»i,y]it  home  an 
ainoimt  of  saxiuii's  indicatixc  of  pioNidmce  and  forctliouLclit, 
wliicli  reth'cted  tlie  liigliest  Itoiior  ii])on  tlieiii  as  men  as  well  as 
soldiers.''' 

And  yet  the  private  soldieis  do  not  de|iosit  all  theii- savin,u;s  in 
the  military  savinys-haiiks,  csjn  i'ially  when  they  can  obtain 
iUHM'ss  to  an  ordinary  sa\iii;j;'s-l)ank.  ^\^t'  arc  iiifoi'iiK'd  that 
many  of  the  household  ti'oops  stationed  in  London  <lc|>osit  tlieii' 
span;  money  in  tlu^  savin,iL;s-l»aid\s  rather  than  in  tin-  rt'^imental 
hiiiiks;  and  when  the  ([uestion  was  on  a  rt't-cnt  occasion  askiul 
as  to  tJK!  cause,  the  answer  yixcn  was,  ••  1  woid<l  not  ha\e  my 
sergeant  know  that  I  was  saxin;.;'  nioncv."  !)Ut  in  addition  to 
this,  the  |)ri\-ate  soldier  would  rather  that  his  conwadcs  did  not 
knew  that  Ik;  was  savini;  nu)nev;  for  the  thrifth^ss  sohlici-.  like 
the  thriftless  workman,  whtm  he  has  spent  e\-crytliinu-  of  his 
is  Aery  apt  to  set  up  a  kind  of  ri^Iit  to  borrow  from  the 
fund  <;''  his  more  thriftv  ctimrade. 


own. 


same  tV'elin,^  of  sus[)icion  l're(|ucntly  )»revents  worknn 


•n 


ilcpositinLi;  money  in  the  ordinarv  sas-in^s  liank.  Tlcy  do  not 
like  it  to  1>(!  known  to  theii-  employers  that  tliey  ;irc  taxing 
money,  heiui;  under  the  im|)ression  that  it  nii,i;ht  lead  loaltv  mpts 
to  lowei'  their  waycs.  A  working-man  in  a  town  in  \'orkshire. 
who  had  determined  to  make  a  (le])osit  in  the  savin,i;s-ltanl<,  of 
which  his  master  was  a  <lii'ector.  went  repeateilly  to  watch  at 
the  door  oi'  tlu^  l)ank  before  h(>  could  ascertain  that  his  masrcr 
was  absent;  and  Ik^  only  [taid  in  his  money,  after  seseral  wccdvs' 
WjutiiiiL?,  when  In;  had  assured  himself  of  t  his  fact. 

TIkj  minei's  at,  Uilston,  at  least  such  of  them  as  put  mon(\v  in 
the  sa\  ins^s-bank,  were  accustomed  to  deposit  it  in  otiier  nanu's 
tliiui  tlieir  own.  Nor  were  they  without  reason.  lAn-  some  of 
their  i-mphtyers    wer(!  actually  o[i]>ose(l    t(»   the    institution    of 


*Tlii!  lunnunt  of  tin-   f'niid  lor  nulitary   siiviuj^s-lianks  on   the  'JOth  o( 
Mmvh,  1874,  was  jk;3n(i,(iuil, 


ill. 


.n,f| 


'I  .',.t; 

\1 


m 


130 


Savings  at  Bilston. 


[chap.  VIII. 


saviiif^s-bnulv.s,  fcai-iiii^  l(;st  tlio  workiacii  iiiiiflit  iii)ply  tlieir 
Siivinij.s  to  tliuii-  iiiaintciiiiuce  durinu'  a  tiuii-)ut;  not  rc^floctiii" 
that  they  liaxc  tin;  best  i,Miaraiit('(!  of  tlic  steadiness  of  this  cLiss 
of  men  iii  their  (h'posits  at  the  sa\iu^s-ha,uk.  Mr.  l>akei', 
Insj)octor  of  l^'actories,  lias  said  tli;it  '*  the  siipi-eine  folly  of  a 
strik(^  is  shown  hy  tlie  fact  thiit  there  is  seldom  or  ever  a  ricli 
woi-knian  at  the  hejid  of  it." 

A  ni;inistr;it(^  at  Hilston,  not  eonnecteil  with  the  eini»loyiii(iit 
of  workmen,  has  mentioned  the    lollowinif  ease  :    •'  I  ])reviuied. 
1 
hiink 


n\  says,  "  n|)on  a,  workman  to   lieyin   ;i,   d»'|»osit    in  the  saviuifs 

His   (h'posits   were  small 


Li 


(i  eame  most  unwi 


llini^k 


althoni^h   I.  knew  his  ^ains  lo   he   ^reat.       I  eiic<)u rayed   him   hy 
(i.xju'essiny;  sntisfaction  at  theeonrsi^  lu^  wastMkini^.    His  (h'[»osits 


KH-ame  u'reater,   and  at  tlu!  end   cf  five    \e.irs  h((    diew  out  thn 


fund  he  had  aceumuhiteil,  Ixtuyiit  ;i   piece  of  land,  and  has  hnilt 
a  house  ui)on  it.      1  tliink  if  I  had  not  s|n)ken  to  him.  "\e  whole 


nnu)unt  would  Iimnc  been  sjxmt  in   feast iuijj,  oi'  chd)S,   oi*   contri- 


outions  to    he 


trad 


es-unions. 


That 


mans  eves  ar«!  now  open;  Ins 


social    position   is   raised  ;  Ik;  sees  and  feels  us  wc  do,  and  will 
influence  otlnas  to  follow  his  examj)le." 

From  what  wi>  have  said,  it  will  l)e  ol)\ious  that  there:  can  he 
no  doubt  as  to  the  ability  of  a  htryc^  j)roportion  of  the  Ixittcir-pjtid 
classics  of  woi'lciu'^'-men  to  liiy  l>y  a  store  of  savings.  When 
tlu\v  !s<'t  their  minds  i>[.on  any  subjei-t,  they  haAo  lu)  dilhculty 


in 


iindi 


ny;  the  refpusiti^  money. 


sh 


;nii,Mei  town  ni    ijaiKtasiui'c 


w- 


contributed     thirty  thousand   ]»ounds   to  su|>port  their   fello 
worknuMi  when  on  strik(!  in  an  Mdjoininin'  town.   At  a  tinu' when 


uu-(!  are  no  sii'iKes,  wiiv  siiou 


lid   ti 


lev  not  save  as  nuu'li  moiiev 


on  their  own  account  for  theii-  own  i)ei'manent  comfort  I  Many 
workmen  already  sa,\(!  with  this  objiict  ;  and  what  th(\v  do,  all 
miyht  do.  \\v  know  of  one  larye  mechanical  (Establishment, 
situated  in  an  ai^ricultui-al  disti'ict,  where  tla^  ttmiptatioiis  to 
useless  expenditure  are  few,  in  which  neai-ly  all  the  men  are 
habitual  economists,  and  have  saved  sums  varyin«^  from  two 
hundred  to  five  hundred  pounds  each. 

Many  factory  ojterativos,  with  their  families,  mi^^ht  easily  lay 
by  from  Hvo  to  ten  shilliu'^s  a  week,  which  in  a  tew  years  wouM 
iirnount  to  considerabh^  sums.      At  Darwen,    onlv  a  short  time 


CHAP.  VIII.] 


Sewings  of  Working  men. 


131 


ago,  an  operative  drew  liiis  savings  out  of  the  Lank  to  })iueliafie 
a  row  of  cottaj^e.s,  now  lM;conie  Ills  pro])ei'ty.  JNIany  others,  in 
the  same  i)hice,  and  in  the  iiciL,dd)orin<<  towns,  are  ei>^iiged  in 
building  cottivges  for  themselves,  some  by  nu'ans  of  th(;ir  cont'i- 
butions  to  building  societies,  and  other  by  means  of  their 
savings  accumulated  in  the  bank. 

A  resp(?etably  dressiid  working-man,  when  making  a  payment 
one  day  at  the  Hradford  Savings-bank,  which  brought  li is  account 
up  to  nearly  eighty  jtounds,  informed  tin;  managei-  how  it  was  that 
he  had  been  induced  to  become  adepositor.  Ih^liad  be(Mi  a  drinker; 
but  one  day  accidently  finding  Ids  wife's  saving.s-bank  (lc[)()sit- 
book,  from  which  he  Jearntid  that  she  had  laid  by  about  twenty 
pounds,  he  said  to  himself,  "\V(dl,  ]U)w,  if  this  ciiii  be  done 
while  I  am  s})cn<ling,  what  might  \\v  do  if  both  were  saving]" 
The  man  gave  up  his  dj-inking,  and  Ix-came  one  of  the  most 
respectable  persons  of  his  class.  "I  owe  it  all,"  he  said,  "to  my 
wife  and  tlu^  savings-ltank." 

When  well-paid  workuien  such  as  these  are  able  to  accumulate 
a  suthcient  store  oi'  savings,  they  ought  gradually  to  give  up 
hard  work,  and  remove;  from  the  liidd  of  conipetition  ms  old  age 
conies  npon  them,  Th(!y  ought  also  to  give;  ))lace  to  younger 
men  ;  and  prevent  themselves  l)eing  beaten  down  into  the  lower- 
paid  ranks  of  labor.  After  sixty  a  man's  physical  powers  fail 
liiin  ;  and  by  that  time  he  ought  t(!  ha\e  made  provision  for  his 
independent  uuiintoriance.  Nor  arc;  the  instances  l>y  any  means 
uncommon  of  workmen  laying  by  uion»!y  with  this  ol)ject;  and 
thereby  j)roving  what  the  whole  class  might,  to  a  greater  or  less 
extent,  accomplish  in  the  fame  direction. 

The  extent  to  which  ])enny  banks  have  been  used  by  the  very 
poorest  classes,  wherever  started,  affords  a  sti'ikiug  illustration 
of  how  much  may  be  (h)n(>  by  nu'rely  providing  incri'ased  op- 
portunities for  the  practice  of  thrift.  'The  first  j)enny  bank 
was  started  in  Ureenock,  about  thirty  years  sinc«;,  as  an  auxiliary 
10  the  savings-bank.  The  object  of  the  projector  (Mr.  J.  M.* 
Scott)  was  to  eiuible  poor  persons,  whose  saving  amounted  to 
less  than  a  shilling  (the  savings-bank  minimum)  to  deposit  them 
in  a  safe  place.  In  one  year  about  five,  thousand  dt>j)ositors 
placed  one  thousand  live  hundred  and  eighty  pounds  with  the 


H 


%.  '  \ ) 


71   ,' 


m 


132 


Penny  Banks. 


[chap.  VIII. 


I  15 


Greenock  institution.  The  cstimaltlo  Mr,  Qneckett,  a  curate  in 
the  east  end  of  IahmIoii,  next  opened  a  penny  l)aid\,  and  tlio 
I'esults  were  very  rcninik;d)lt'.  In  one  yeiii-  as  many  as  four- 
teen tliousand  live  liundrcd  mid  tliirtccn  di'posits  were  niado 
in  the  bank.  Tla;  nunilu'r  of  depositors  was  limited  to  two 
tliousiuid  ;  ^nd  the  deiimnd  foi'  admission  was  so  ^reat  that 
tliei'o  Avere  usually  mauy  waiting'  until  waeoncnes  oerurred. 

"  Some  have  for  tlicir  rent,"  said  'My.  (^)u('ekctt  ;  "  otiu'rs  for 
cloHies  and  a|»pi\'ulicin,L;'  their  chiMreii  ;  and  various  are  the 
litth*  oltjects  to  which  i!ie  sa\inL;s  are  lo  he  applietl,  IO\i'rv 
repayment  passes  throu<:h  my  own  hands,  which  nives  an  o]>- 
portunity  of  lieariiiLi;  of  sickness,  or  sonow,  or  anv  other  cause 
winch  eonip(>ls  the  withdrawal  of  \\w  little  I'und.  It  is,  besides, 
a  feeih-r  to  the  laiycr  saviniL^sl tanks,  to  \\liich  many  are  turned 
over  when  the  weekly  piuynients  tendered  evceed  the  usual  sum. 
Many  of  those  who  ciudd  at  llrst  scarcely  advance  beyond  a 
l)enny  a  W(>ek  i-an  now  de)>o,-;it  a  silver  coin  of  some  kind." 

N(!ver  was  the  moral  inlluence  of  the  ])arish  clei'ifyman  moi'c 
wisely  employed  than  in  this  case.  Not  many  of  those  whom 
INlr.  (.^)ueckett  thus  hibon'd  to  ser\e  were  amoni,'  the  chureh- 
goin,:.,^  class  ;  bat  by  hel'ping  thon  to  be  frugal,  and  improving; 
their  j)hysieal  condition,  lu;  w^as  (Miabled  gi'adually  to  elevate 
th(ur  social  tastes,  and  to  awaken  in  them  a  religious  life  to 
which  the  greater  number  of  them  had  liefore  been  strangers. 

A  ])Owerful  influence  was  next  given  to  the  movement  hy 
Mr.  Charles  W.  .Sikes,  cashier  of  the  Hufldersfield  Baidcing 
Company,  who  advoi;ated  their  establishment  in  connection 
with  the  extensive  organization  of  mechanics'  institutes.  It 
ainteared  to  him  that  to  train  working-]t(!0[»le  when  young  in 
hal)its  of  economy,  was  of  more  |)ractical  value  to  themselves, 
and  of  greater  importance  to  society,  than  to  till  their  minds 
with  th(;  contents  of  many  books.  H(^  [lointed  to  the  j)erverted 
use  of  money  by  the  working-class  as  one  of  the  greatest  prac- 
«tical  evils  of  the  time.  "  In  many  cases,  he  said,  the  higher 
the  workmen's  wages,  the  poorer  are  their  fanulies ;  and  tliese 
are  tlie3'  who  really  form  the  discontented  and  the  dangerous 
classes.  How  an  such  persons  take  any  interest  in  pure  and 
elevating  knowledge  V 


;-  V  a 


CHAP,   VIII.] 


Charles  W.  Slkes. 


133 


To  show  the  tlniiliiK'ss  of  llic  people,  "Sir.  Sikes  mentioned 
the  followini,' inslanee  :  "An  cniiuent  enij)loyer  in  the.  West 
Ridino-,"  he  snid,  "  wliose  niiUs  foi-  a  (piarter  of  a  eeutury  have 
scarcely  rnn  shoi't  tiuK;  i'or  a  siniili'  week,  Ims  v.  itliin  <i  lew  (hiys 
examined  the  rate  of  wa^os  now  paid  to  his  men,  and  eonipai'ed 
it  witli  that  of  a  few  years  airo.  He  had  the  ])leasnre,  of  iind- 
ing  that  improvements  in  machinery  had  led  to  im|»ro\'ement 
in  wap'^s.  llis  spinmn-s  and  \vca\ei's  are  makini;' ahoiit  twenty- 
sev(!n  sliillings  a  wet'lc.  Vn  many  instam-es  some  of  their  cliildren 
work  at  tin-  same  mill,  and  in  a  few  instances  their  wives,  and 
r»ften  the  family  income  I'eaclies  fiom  a,  linn«h-ed  to  a  linmlred 
and  fifty  ponnds  )ter  annuni.  Visiting  the  homes  of  some  of 
those  men,  he  has  seen  with  feelings  of  disappointment  the  air 
of  ntter  discondV)rt  and  sipialoi-  with  which  many  are  jK'irvadech 
Increase  of  income  has  led  only  to  inr)'(\nse  of  im[»i'ovidence. 
The  savingsdiank  and  the  hnihling  society  are  eipialiy  negh^cted, 
although  at  the  same  mill  there  are  some  with  no  higher  n-ages, 
whose  homes  havi^  every  comfort,  and  who  \va\v.  (piite  a  little 
com petency  laid  by.  Jn  llradford,  I  heliexc,  a  munificent  em- 
ployer on  one  occasion  o[)ened  se\en  hnndi'etl  accounts  with  the 
8avingsd)ank  for  his  operati\  es,  )»aying  in  a  small  deposit  for 
each.  Tlu^  result  was  not  encouraging.  Rapidly  was  a  small 
portion  of  the  sums  drawn  out,  and  \'eiy  few  remained  as  the 
nucleus  of  further  ih'posits  ""^" 

Mr.  Sikes  suggesie(l  that  (iacli  mechanics'  institute  should  aj>- 
point  a  preliminary  savings  liaidc  conunittee,  to  attend  once  a 
week  for  the  pur[)ose  of  receiving  (U'p(jsits  from  tlie  mend^era 
and  others. 

"  If  a  committee  at  eacli  institution,"  hi;  said,  "  wert^  to  adopt 
this  coui'S(%  taking  an  interest  in  their  humhle  cii-cu instances, 
and,  in  a  sympathizing  and  kindly  spirit,  to  sui^gest.  inxile,  nay 
win  them  over,  not  onlv  l)v  reatlini>'  tli(!  hssson,  ])ut  fo!niin<ir  tin; 
liahit  of  true  economy  and  self-reliance  (the  noblest  lessons  for 
which  classes  could  be  formcid),  liow  cheiuing  woidd  )x-  the  re- 
sults !     Once  established   in  better  habits,  tlu'ir  teet  tirndv  set 


*From  Mr.    Siki's's  excellent  little  hnnd-book,  entitled   "  Oood  Times  ; 
or,  The  savings-bank  and  the  Fireside." 


134 


The  Poor  Moris  Purse. 


[chap.  VIII. 


in  the  patli  of  sclt'-reliaiico,  liow  ijfciun-iiUv  would  young  men 
grow  up  with  tlic  [)nicti('ul  t'ouvictiou  tliat  to  tlu.'ir  own  advan- 
ciuf;  intc]lit,'('nc(;  ;iu«l  virtues  must  they  m.-iiiily  hxik  to  work  out 
their  own  social  w(^lfare  1" 

This  athnirabhs  adviee  was  not  lost.  Onv,  institution  aft(!r 
another  (Mnl)rac(.'d  the  pl.an,  and  preliminary  savings  hanks  wen^ 
sl)ortly  estal»lislie»l  in  oonneetii^n   with  the  jUMncipal  m(>eh.'inies' 


institutes tlirouuhout  Yorkshir 


IMiose  estahlislied  at  iludders- 


field,  Halifax,  Ihiultord,  i.eed.s.  ;md  ^^)rk  wei-f;  exeetMliniiJy 
successlul.  The  i)eiiny  hanks  estahlished  at  llalifa.x  consisted 
of  a  central  hank  and  se\ en  suboi-diiiat((  hranehes.  The  numher 
of  Diend)ers,  and  the  aAia-age  amount  of  the  sums  deposited  with 
them,  continued  to  increase  IVom  vear  to  v<'ar.  IA)urteen  i»enny 
hanks  were  estahlished  at  Ih-adford  :  and  after  ilu;  depositoris 
had  formed  the  hahitof  saving  in  tin;  small<>r  hanks,  tlnsy  trans- 
ferred them  in  htdk  to  the  oi'dinaiy  savingsl)ank. 

Thirty-six  penny  hanks  were;  estahlished  in  and  around  C«lns- 
gow.  Th(>  committee,  in  their  rt^port,  state<l  that  they  weio 
calculated  *' to  checik  that  I'eekless  (^\-|»enditui"e  of  little  sums 
which  so  often  leads  to  a  conhrmetl  hahit  of  wastefuln(3ss  and 
improvidence;"  and  they  urged  the  sup[)ort  of  the  }tennyV)anks 
as  the  best  means  of  (extending  the  usefulncjss  of  the  savings- 
banks.  The  penny  hank  estahlished  at  the  small  country  town 
of  Farnham  is  (Estimated  to  have  contril^uted  within  a  few  yeius 
a  hundred  and  lifty  regular  d(»positors  to  the  savings-haidc  of 
the  same  [>lace.  TJu^  fact  that  as  large  a  ])roportion  as  two- 
thirds  of  th(!  whole  amount  deposited  is  drjiwn  out  within  tlu; 
year  shows  that  penny  hanks  ai'e  principally  used  as  i)laces  of 
safe  deposit  for  very  small  sums  of  money,  until  they  are  wanteil 
for  some  special  ohjc^-t,  such  as  rent,  clothes,  furniture,  the 
doctor's  hill,  and  such-liki^  purposes. 

Thus  the  })enny  hank  is  emphatically  the  poor  man's  pursr, 
The  great  mass  of  the  de[)osits  are  }>aid  in  sums  not  exceeding 
sixpence,  and  the  avei-age  of  tlu^  Avhole  do(!S  not  exceed  a 
shilling.  The  depositors  consist  of  the  very  humhlest  mendjcrs 
of  the  working-class,  and  hy  far  the  greatest  number  of  thcni 
have  never  before^  been  accustomed  to  lay  by  any  portion  of 
their  earnings.     The  He  v.  Mr.  Clarke,  of  Derby,  wlio  took  an 


CHAP.  VIII.]  •  Depositors  in,  Penn>f  Banks. 


135 


(ililS- 
S\11I1S 

^  iuul 
inks 
lugs- 
towii 

k   of 

t^v<)- 

n  till! 

es  of 

iiutt'il 

ilu' 
puvsi". 

■  tliem 
tion  of 
)ok  an 


active  iut(!rt'st  in  tlie  fxtousioii  of  tln'si^  iisct'ul  iiistitntions,  luis 
stilted  tliat  une-ti'iitli  of  the  wliolc  jiinouiit  I'cwived  1)V  the  Dcrlty 
penny  bank  was  (leposit<<l  in  copptM-  money,  and  a  laigt;  portion 
of  the-  remainder  in  tliret^|)enny  and  fonrpeniiy  [lii^ees. 

It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  the  jUMiny  })ank  readies  a  chiss  of 
persons  of  veiy  small  ineans,  whose  Mhility  to  save  is  mnch  l(;ss 
than  tlnit  of  tlu;  highly  j»aid  workman,  and  who,  if  the  money 
weri'  left  in  their  jioekets,  wunM  in  most  cases  sjtend  it  in  tin; 
nearest  pnhlic  house.  Kenee,  when  .-i  penny  l)ank  was  (!stal»- 
lished  at  I^itney,  Jind  the  deposits  wei-e  iidded  up  at  tln^  end  of 
the  tii'st  year,  a  hrewer,  who  was  on  the  eomniiite(«,  made  tlie, 
rein:irk,  "Well,  tlnit  represents  thirty  thousand  pints  of  beer 
not  (irii.nk." 

At  one  of  tin;  penny  banks  in  Yorkshire,  an  old  irutn  in 
receipt  of  parish  (Mitdoor  i-elief  was  found  usin_i(  the  penny  bank 
as  a  plae(!  of  deposit  for  his  pennies  until  li<^  Jiad  aeeumnlatcMl 
fiioutjh  to  buy  a  coat.  <_)thei's  save  to  buy  an  eight  day  clock, 
or  a  musical  instrument,  or  foi-  a  railway  trip. 

Hut  tin;  ])rincij)al  sup[>orters  of  tlu^  penny  banks  ai'e  boys, 
and  this  is  their  inost  hop(>ful  featuic;  for  it  is  out  of  boys  that 
men  ari^  nnide.  At  lluddeisiield  many  of  tin;  lads  go  in  bands 
from  the  mills  to  the  penny  banks; 
ainph;  urging  them  on.  Tln^y  save 
to  buy  a  chest  of  tools  ;  another,  a  watch;  :i  third,  a  grammar 
or  a  dictionary. 

Oiu)  e\ening  a  boy  presented  liimself  to  draw  one;  pound  ten 
.shillings.  According  to  the  miles  of  the  )»enny  bank,  a,  week's 
notice  miist  be  giA'en  befoi'e  any  sum  exceeding  twenty  sliillings 
nui  be  withdrawn,  and  the  cashier  demurred  to  making  the 
[•ayment.  ''Well,"  said  tlu^  boy,  "  thc^  reason's  this:  mother 
nui't  pay  her  rent  ;  I'm  goin'  to  pay  it,  for,  as  long  as  I  have 
owt,  she  sllall  hev'  it."  In  another  case,  a  youth  drew  twi-ntv 
liounds  to  buy  off  his  brothei"  who  had  enlisted.  "  IVlother  fn^ts 
so,"  said  the  lad,  "  that  she'll  break  her  heart  if  he  isn't  bought 
off;  and  I  can  not  bear  tliat." 

Thns  these  institutions  give  help  and  strength  in  many  ways, 
and,  besides  enabling  young  jieople  to  kee[)  out  of  debt  and 
honestly  to  pay  their  wjiy,  furnish  them  with  the  means  of  per-: 


ilat 


emulatK)n  as  w( 


11 


as  ex- 


for  various  pur[)os(>s — one 


1  » 


t>i"  I- 


if'-f! 


■  i  ; : 


136 


Tiijlnence  of  Pcnnjf  Banks.    • 


forrnin*,'  kindly  jin<l  _<;oiic'i-ous  acts  in  times  of  family  ti-ial  and 
emorjicncy.  It  is  an  admirnlilc!  feature  of  tlu.'  ra,i>ged  schools 
that  almost  <n"erv  one  of  lliem  has  a  [>enny  hank  conn(M'tc(l 
with  it,  for  tla;  pui'pose  of  trainin;^-  the  schohiis  in.  ijood  hal)it.s, 
wlii(di  th(;y  most  ne(?d  ;  and  it  is  a  remarkahh.'  fact  that  in  one 
year  not  less  than  .£S.8(S0  was  dejtosited,  in  2n,()'M  sums,  hy 
the  scholars  connected  with  the  lia,uged-sch(><>l  Union.  And 
when  thli;  can  he  doni;  hy  tlu^  |»oor  hoys  of  the  i-aif.nXMl  schools, 
what  mi^ht  not  ht^  acc<>in|»lishL'd  hy  the  liigidy  jtaid  o[)erativc,s 
and  mechanics  of  l^m!laiun 

J)Ut  another  capital  feature  in  the  wcjrkini,'  of  luMiny  l)auk,s, 
as  ri'Ljards  the  cultivation  of  )»ru(h'nt  liahits  aiuonjjj  the  people, 
is  tlu^  circunistanc(!  that  the  example  of  l)oys  and  ^ii-ls 
dej)Ositing  theii-  spare  weekly  pennies  has  often  the  effect  of 
drawing-  their  ])arents  after  them.  A  hoy  i^oes  on  for  weeks 
paj'ii^tc  his  pence,  and  takin<if  home  his  pass-book.  Tlu;  hook 
shows  that  he  has  a  "  le<l|Ljei"  folio"  at  the  hank  ex])ressely 
d(!Voted  to  liim  ;  that  his  [>enni(>s  a)'e  all  <luly  entered,  togetluM' 
with  the  respective  dati^s  of  their  deposits;  that  these  saviui^^s 
are  not  lyiny-  idle,  but  b(>,'ir  interest  at  two  and  a  ladf  per  cent. 
per  annum,  and  that  In;  can  have  them  restored  to  him  at  any 
time,  if  under  twenty  shillings,  without  notice;  and  if  above 
twenty  shillings,  then  aftei-  a  week's  iiotice  has  been  given. 

The  book  is  a  litth;  history  in  itself,  and  can  not  fail  to  be 
intei'esting  to  the  boy's  brothers  and  sistei's,  as  well  as  to  his 
parents.  Tla^y  call  him  "good  lad,"  and  tlay  see  he  is  a  well- 
conducted  lad.  The  father,  if  he  is  a.  sensible  man,  naturally 
bethinks  him  that  if  his  boy  can  do  so  creditabh;  a  thing,  worthy 
of  praise,  so  nught  he  himself.  Acciji'dingly,  on  th(^  ncjxt  Satur- 
day night,  whtMi  the  boy  gents  to  d<'|>u,iit  his  thi'eei)ence  at  the 
jienny  bank,  tlui  father  often  sends  hi;-  shilling. 

Thus  a  good  b(;ginning  is  often  made,  a,nd  si  hal)it  initiated, 
which,  if  persctvennl  in,  very  shoi'tly  exercises  a  most  salutaiy 
influence  on  the  entire  domestic  condition  of  the  family.  Tlu! 
observant  mother  is  (piick  to  observe  the  effects  of  this  new 
practice  n})on  the  ha))i>iness  of  the  home;  and  in  course  of 
time,  as  the  younger  children  grow  up  and  earn  money,  she  en- 
coui'ages  thorn  to  follow  the  eldei-  boy's  example.     She  herself 


CHAP,  VIII.] 


Bradford  Savmys-haah. 


137 


takes  tluMii  l)y  tin;  li;uul,  Iciuls  tliciii  to  tlio  poimy  l)iiiik,  aiul 
accustoms  tlunii  to  invest  tiieir  saviiijfs  tlicrc.  Woiiien  have 
even  vaovv.  iutlucnct^  in  sucli  niattei-a  than  men  ;  and  whore  tlioy 
do  exorcise  it,  tlie  l)eneticial  <'ti'( cts  are  niucli  more  lasting;. 

One  evening',  a  stro'.iLf.  museuhn'  mt^'lianie  a))]>eare(l  at  the 
BraiU'ord  Saviiigs-liauk  in  liis  workini;-  (hess,  hi-in^inn'  with  liiiu 
three  eliihlreu,  one  of  tluMn  in  his  arms.  lie  placed  on  the 
counter  tlieir  deposit-hooks,  whicli  his  wife  liail  previously  been 
accustomed  to  })resent,  together  with  ten  shiilinns,  to  he  eijually 
apportionetl  aniong  the  tliree.  Pressing  to  his  liosom  the  eliild 
in  his  arms,  tlie  man  said,  ''  Pooi-  things  '.  tlusy  liave  lost  their 
mother  sinc(^  they  wtirc;  Iumv  last  ;  hut  \  must  do  th(>  host  I  can 
foi'  them."  And  lu^  continm'd  tlu^  good  lesson  to  his  ehildreu 
which  his  wife  had  hegnn,  hiinging  them  with  him  each  time 
to  see  their  litth'  il(>|)osits  made. 

There  is  an  old  Knglish  proverl)  wliich  says,  "  1  le  that  would 
thrive  nuist  tirst  ask  his  wife  ;"  hut  the  wife  must  not  only  let 
lier  husband  thri\(?,  but  help  him.  otherwise  she  is  not  tin; 
"  ludpmeet  "  whieh  is  as  luuMlful  for  the  domestic  (.'omfort  and 
Siitisiaction  of  tlu^  working-man,  as  of  every  other  m;!n  who 
undertakes  tln^  responsihility  of  a  family.  Women  i'oi-m  the 
moral  atmos[)hero  in  which  W(!  grow  when  childi'en  ;  and  they 
lla^•e  a  great  d(^-il  to  do  with  i\\v.  \\[\^.  when  we  Ix'come  men.  It 
is  true  that  the  men  may  hold  the  reins  ;  Ixit  it  is  generally  the 
women  who  ttdl  them  which  way  to  drive.  What  Konsseaii 
said  is  very  near  the  truth  :  "  Men  will  always  Ix^  what  wonuni 
make  them." 

Not  long  ago,  }s\x.  Sikes  encountered  in  a  s(H-<)nd-class  cai'- 
riage  a  well-dressed  woikuian  travelling  from  Shellield  to  (llas- 
gow,  during  holiday  times,  to  see  his  mother.  "  1  am  glad," 
said  Mr.  Sikes,  '•  to  find  a  workman  travelling  so  gi-eat  a  dis- 
tance for  a  purpose  like  that."  '"  Yes,"  said  the  man,  "  and  I 
am  glad  to  say  that  I  can  atford  tt»  do  it."  "  And  <lo  many  of 
the  workmen  employed  in  your  worksho'p  save  mon(>y  I"  asked 
Mr.  Sikes.  "  No,"  said  tlu^  other,  "not  mor(^  than  abotit  two 
ill  the  hundred.  The  s[)are  earnings  of  the  others  go,  not  to  the 
the  savings-banks,  but  to  the  drink-shops."  '•  An<l  when  did  you 
hegin  to  save  T       When  1  was  no  bigger  than  tliat,'^  indicating 


i'H 


ll 


138 


Ikirlj)  L*'itso))H  III  Thrll). 


[riiAP.  vnr. 


tJic  height  of  a  litthj  boy  :   ''  tho  lirst    money  I  siiveJ  wiis  in  ;i 
penny  bank,  and  I  havti  gone  on  sa\ing  ever  since." 

Suc^>  beiniji"  the  intlneuce  of  early  practice  and  oxanijth^  we 
are  glad  to  lind  tliat  Economy  is  now  iiein<;  taui^lit  at  i)ublie 


ihooh 


Tlie  Rev.  Mr.  ('ralliin,  of  the  Sussex  (V)iintv  Asvh 


nil, 


has  h^ng  tauylit  h'ssons  of  tlii'ift  to  [)0()r  boys  and  girls.  He 
urges  the  establishment  of  peiuiv  banks  in  connection  with  sav- 
ings Itauks,  in  all  cIcmcMtary  schools.  lie  wisely  contends  tluit 
simjde  lessons  on  money,  its  nature,  its  \alue,  and  its  uses, 
togethei-    with    the    \!iri«>us    duties    of   gixiug,    spending,    and 


savmu',  wou 


Id  1 


lavc  ;i,  \as 


t  iutl 


ueuce  on  tlie  risniii'  a'eneration. 


The  ])ractic((  of  t((aching  children  pro\ideut  habits  has  been 
adopted  for  al>out  eight  years  in  the  National  Schools  of  IJel- 
gium,  the  Si'hool  Hoai'd  of  <ihent  being  convinced  of  the  favor- 
able  iuHuence    that  snsing  h;is    upon   the  moi-al  and   material 


W( 


■11- 


'niii'  ot  tlie   workinti-classes. 


ai 


id   l»eli(!vinij  tiiat  the   besi 


'iT> 


means  of  i-ausing  tlu^  spirit  of  economy  to  penetrates  their  hal)its 
is  to  teach  it  to  the  children  luuler  tuition,  and  to  make  them 
])ractis(^  it. 

It  is  always  \-ei'y  ditlicult  to  teach  any  thing  new  to  adults, 
and  esj)  cially  lessons  of  thiift  to  nnMi  who  are  thi-ii'tless.  Their 
method  of  li\  ing  is  ti.\(Ml,  Ti'aditional  and  inveterate^  habits  of 
expenditure  exist  among  tluun.  With  men  it  is  tin-  driid<ing- 
shop  ;  with  wonuMi  it  is  dress.  'I'liey  spend  what  they  earn, 
and  think  nothing  of  to-moi'row.  W'lien  rc^duced  to  a  state  t)t' 
distress,  they  feel  no  shame  in  begging;  for  the  feeling  of 
human  dignity  has  not  yet   been  suliiciently  de\'eloj)ed  in  them. 

With  children  it  is  \i'ry  dillerent.  They  have  no  in\'eteratt' 
liabits  to  get  rid  of  They  will,  foi'  tlu;  most  [)art,  do  as  tlicv 
are  taught.  And  they  can  be  taught  economy,  just  as  they  can 
be  taught  arithmetic.  They  can,  at  all  events,  be  inspired  by 
a  c!e\-er  teachei  with  habit:!  of  economy  and  tlliift.  Knciv 
eliil  I  has  a  few  pence  at  tinu^s.  The  master  may  iialuce  them 
to  save  these  lor  some  ^^■ortlly  pur|)ose.  At(Jhent,  a  savings- 
l)ank  has  been  introduced  in  every  sc1k>o1,  ami  tln^  eiiildrc!! 
dejtosit  their  jieunies  there.  It  is  introdticed  into  the  paying 
schools  as  well  as  the  fr(H(  schools  ;  I'or  habits  of  thrift  are  !»« 
usejul  to  nuMi  and    women  of  tins  rii-her  as  of  the  jtooi'er  elasscji, 


CHAP.  Vlll.] 


/Jelf/ian  ^'^cho<^ls. 


139 


The  results  of  the  lessons  on  economy  luive  been  highly  satis- 
factoiy.*  ■  The  eliildien  l)elonging  to  the  scliools  of  Ghent  have 
accumulated  eiglitoon  thousand  ])ounds,  which  are  deposited  in 
the  State  Sa\iu,<;"s-bank,  at  three  per  cent,  interest.  This  system 
is  Sjn'eadini^  into  HolJand.  France,  and  Italy.  It  has  also,  to  a 
certain  extent,  l)('('n  adopted  in  this  t-ountry.  TJius  (llasf^ow, 
Liver|»ooi,  IJirmingham,  Great  llford,  and  i\w.  Loiulon  ()rj)haTi 
Asylum,  ah  show  s]»(^cinums  of  school  banks  ;  and  ^ve  trust  that 
before  Ionic,  thev  will  ])e  established  in  e\erv  school  throu'diout 
tli(^  kingdom. 

It  will  be  (/b\ious.  fidiii  wlcit  has  been  said,  that  the  j»ractice 
of  economy  dejiends  nciv  much  upon  the  facilities  pi-ovided  for 
the  laying  by  of  sm:ill  sums  of  money.  ij»'t  a  convenient 
savings-bank  be  provided,  and  (1e[M)sits  gi'aduidly  How. into  it. 
liCt  ii  uuliraiy  saviugs-l)ank  be  established,  and  pri\ate  soldiers 
coutri\('  to  save  somethi'ig  out  of  theii-  small  ])ay.  Let  penny 
l»anks  be  opeiuxl,  nii'l  crowds  of  dejtositors  imme<liately  present 
thoiusehi's,  ev(Mi  the  boys  of  the  ragged  sciiools  being  able  to 
put  into  them  consi»h>ralile  sums  of  money.  It  is  the  sanu^  with 
school  banks,  as  w(>  have  seen  fi'om  the  example  of  the  scliool- 
(•liil(li'(!n  of  ( (hen*. 

Now,  lifte(>u  years  ago,  this  country  was  Acry  insulliciently 
provided  with  sa\  ings-ltanks  for  the  peo))l(\  Thei'e  wcu'o  then 
iiiiuiy  large  towns  and  villages  altogetluu'  unpro\itled  with  them. 


*  A  paniplilt't  jinlilisluMl  at  (ilicnt  says  of  tlic  paying  schools  ;  "  The 
spirit  ot't'coiioiiiy  is  iiitroilui.'fd  tliiTc  uijlcr  tlu;  form  ol'cliarity.  The  young 
gills  Imy  witii  tlirir  poclict-iuoih'y,  lirst'y  iiiati-rials,  say  cotton  ni'  lincu, 
III' which  tlicy  attci'waril  maki'  ailirh's  of  dress  duiiiix  I  he  hotirs  set  aside 
tor  iiiamial  woik  ;  aftcrwafd  tiio  siiirt: ,  stix  kings,  dfcsscs,  iiaidckcrchiefs, 
1)1' !i|'t'i>iis,  arc  ilistriliiitcd  to  the  ]>tiorcf  cjiihh'cti  of  the  free  s  diools.  Th« 
ilisttilmiioii  liccoiiics  tlie  olijcct  of  a  little  holiday.  \Vc  know  of  nothing 
ili:it  can  he  nioi'c  touchiii'.^.  The  poor  cliildii'n  arc  assctnltlcd  in  the  ('(d- 
liiT  school  ;  our  young  ladies  go  there  also  ;  one  of  them  says  a  few  words 
It'cliiii^dy  to  her  sisters  in  the  poorer  wlasses  ;  one  of  the  "iris  ol'  the  freo 
srlidols  re|>lies.  'riieii  the  ]irctty  and  nsi'lid  things  which  have  liecn  r  uh' 
'iiiiiiij,'  lln^  last  ^'  ,iv  nr»;  distiiliuted.  It  is  the  donors  themselves  who  pre- 
■'I'lit  the  fruits  .lu'ir  hihor  tt)  the  jiooreNt  among  the  poor.  The  dj.tri- 
'iMiioji  is  intermingled  wilii  sinking,  Need  we  reiterate  the  blossin.i's  ut' 
lliis  hles8t.'d  ceononiv  /" 


<  I 


i 


f){ 


■■  li? 


i 


140 


Facilities  for  Samng. 


[chap.  VIII. 


Liiueashire  had   only   diirty  savinos-ljanks  for  upward  of  two 
niillious  of  people.     TIh^  East    Ridmi^  of  YorksJiire   had  only 


f 


our  savin2:s-l)anl<;s. 


There  were  lifteen  counties  in  blie  [Fnii.Ml 


Kiui^doni  which  liad  not  a  single  savinns-lnink.  '^^Fhcu'e  W(;re 
only  al)out  six  hundred  sa\  ini-'s-banks  for  about  thirty  nuHions 
of  })ei)ph'.  'rii(\se  wei'c  (i[>t']i  only  for  two  oi-  three  lioui's  in  the 
w(H!k  ;  some  were  open  lor  oid y  four  hours  in  the  month.  'I'hc 
workman  avIio  liad  money  tosaA'e  had  to  cai-ry  his  sjtai'o  shilliu'^.s 
in  his  )H)cket  I'or  some  time  betbn;  \\o.  con  hi  lav  them  by  ;  iiiid 
in  th(^  mean  time  he  mi^'ht  be  rxpo.ied  to  constant  temptations 
to  s]»end  them,  ^fo  k(H^p  his  shilliu^n's  safci,  he  nnist  have  ac- 
(pured  the  Jiahit  ol'  saviiii;-,  whicji  it  was  the  object  of  saxiiiijjs 
banks  to  ti'ain  and  eslablisli. 

\)v.  Uuthi'Ic.iu  his  l)ook  on  ra^^ed  schools,  j)ublished  in  lS(i(), 
said,  "  ilow  ai-e  our  mannfacturiu'^  and  handicraft  3'outh  sitiia- 
te«n  Uy  publi-'diouses  and  spii  il-sli()ps  they  ar<(  .surrounded 
witli  iinunneral)h' t'-mptatioiis  ;  whih'  to  many  of  th(>m  savings- 
baidcs  are  hardly  known  by  name.  i  )is.sij)ation  has  her  nets 
ilrawn  across  eveiy  street. 
to  run  the  o'aunth't  of  hah 
a.  bow -shot. 


In  man\(d'our  towns,  sol)rietv  has 
a  do/,en  spirit-shops  in  the  spaet'  ol 
lese  are  near  at  liand  open  by  day,  and  bhi/iu;;' 
by  lULfht,  botdi  on  Sibb.ith  and  Saturday.  I  >runl<enness  liiids 
immediat,'  i^'ratification  ;   while  euonomy  has  tt)  trav(d  a  nuie.  it 


oj)ens  1 


ts  d 


00  rs 


to  th 


may  !)(%  ibr  her  sa\  inu,'sd)ajdv  ;  ami  that 
luiL  once  (ir  twice  a,  week.""**" 

Many  sw>4iLi;(>stion>;  had  been  ma(h>  by  iVicnils  ol'  the  po(>rcr 
(dasses,  wlicthei*  it  mi^dit  not  be  possible  to  (>stal.)lish  a  mort^  ex- 
tended sy.siem  of  sa\iir.;s-l>;inks  throu'^diout  the  (M)untry.  .As 
lon^  ai^'o  as  |S()7,  Mr.  NVhilbi'cad  introduced  a  bill  into  i'ai'lia- 
nu'ut  \\n'  (he  pui-posr  id'  enablinjj;  small  deposits  to  be  made  at 
an  ollic(^  to  Ik'  established  in  London  ;  (he  n\(nu'V  tobi^  i-cmidcd 
by  the  poslmasl.ers  oi'  the  districts  in  which  the  deposits  wen' 
made.  'V\w  bill  furthei'  contemplat.ed  the  es^ ablishment  of  ii 
National  Assurauct*  Society.  l>y  nu'ans  (d'  whi«di  workin.Lf-peei'K' 
were  to  be  enal)led  to  ell'"cc  assiu'am.'C.i  to  an  e.\t(,'nt  not  evcei'd 


*"S('('cbtiiii('  and    ibuM'sl  Ml'  P11.4HV1I   SididMls  ;  uv,  A  Thiul  I'loa,  widi 
Ni'w  bjditiuus  ut  till'  t'ii'sl  iuid  SiHMud  I'Iim,"  \\  l)y. 


CHAP.   VIII.] 


Money  Order  Offices. 


141 


in|^"  two  lmii(ln;(l  pouiuls,  and  to  sccui't!  aitiiuitii's  to  aii  tiiiioiiiit 
not  exceeding  twenty  ^tounds.  Mr.  VVIiithi-ead's  liill  was  re- 
jected, and  notliinii;  eanie  of  liis  sui^'uf  est  ions. 

Tlio  exertions  of  Sir  Kowlaiid  Hill  lias  iiiLj  ^iveii  ij^reat  vitality 
to  the  [K)st-oliiee  system,  and  extended  its  nset'uliicss  as  a  i>nh!i'j 
iustitntion  in  all  diii'ctions,  it  was  nt'xt  sui^i^i'stud  tliat  tlie 
iiiontjy-order  olHees  (wliieli  were  estaldislicd  in  IS.'JS)  miiflit  Ix; 
applied  for  the  [»n-pos(^  of  depositing  :is  well  as  fni-  transmitting 
nioiK^v-  Professor  Hjineoek  pid»li,  IkmI  a  pampidrt  on  the  snl»- 
jei't  in  18o2.  In  NoNcmltcr.  jS.Mi,  Mr.  JoJin  i*.idl;ii-,  tlie  emi- 
nent eonnsc^l— whos(>  iiltfiition  lia<l  been  direi^tc^l  to  tln^  snltjeet 
liy  the  working  of  tlic  Putney  Penny  P>;ink  sngyested  to  the 
nost-olliee  authorities  tlie  ('m|»l<)ymei.l  of  money  oi'dir  olijces  as 
■A  iieiui!^'  of  extending  I  lie  s;ivings-l»;ink  system  ;  Imt  liis  sugges- 
ti"!  liid  not  meet,  witli  iip]»rov!dat  tlie  time,  iind  nothing  cinne 
u!' it.  Similitr  snguestions  were  made  liy  other  gentlemen --l»y 
Mr.  Hume,  liv  Mi'.  M'< 'or(piodide,  l)V  ( 'ajit.  Strong,  l>v  Mr. 
I  ' 


l.'iy  Smee,  and  others, 

P.ut  it  was  not  until  iMr.  Sikcis,  of  I  ludderstjeld,  look  up  tli<! 
([uestion,  that  these  \arious  sug^'estions  heeame  (!mli(»died  in 
fiicts.  Suggestions  ;ire  nlways  useful.  They  arouse  thinking. 
The  mosi  •,"'ual»le  are  ne\er  lost,  Imt.  at  length  work  themselves 
into  facts.  Most  in\-entions  are  the  result  of  original  snggi^s- 
tions.  Some  one  attempts  t.o  apply  tlm  idea.  h'ailures  occur 
Jit  tirsi;  iMit  with  greater  knowleilge,  greater  e.xperieut'e,  an 
iffcater  detei  :iii;.al  ion,  the  suggestion  at  last  succeeds. 

Post-otrn  t  sa-  oigs-hanks  owe  their  success,  in  the  lii'st  place, 
tu  the  niO'-.-}'oiw  suggestions  nnule  i>y  Mi-.  \\'hitl)iea(l  and  others; 
next  to  >  ir  iirv.hmd  Hill,  who,  hy  estal)lishing  'he  hrancli  post- 
otlices  lor  Ll:  transmission  ol'  money,  made  the  suggestions 
)iractic'd)le;  i;i.-,.  lo  Mr.  Sikes,  who  took  up  tlu!  ([uestion  in 
IS.'tO,  push(>d  it,  perse\-ered  with  it,  and  Itroughti  it  under  the 
notices  «tf  suceessix'e  chancellors  of  the  excheipiei- ;  and  lastly  to 
Mr.  (<la<lston(S  win),  liaAing  clearly  foicseen  the  innn(>ns(>  henc^- 
tits  of  post-ollice  sa\ings  liaidvs,  hrt>uglil  in  a  hill  an.l  carried  it 
through  Parliament  in  181} I. 

The  m  .ney-ord(0' dej)MrtnH'nt  of  the  ]»ost-<»llice  had  suggested 
.  )  Mr.    V    ,.s,  us  it    had  alrciadv  thme   to  othei*  ohsi-rvers,   that 
ii 


142 


Fost-offtce  Savings-hanks. 


[chap.  VIII. 


the  organization  already  existed  for  makincj  post-office  saviiijifs- 
banks  practi('a])le  tlirou.ifhout  tlie  kingdom.  Wherever  the 
hxtal  insjxn-tor  found  that  as  many  as  five  money-orders  were 
re<piir(!d  in  a  w(,iek,  thi;  j)ra(rtic(!  was  to  make  tliat  branch  of  tlio 
post-oiHce  a  moiuiy-crder  office.  It  was  estimated  that  such  \\.n 
oiKcc^  was  estal)lislied  on  an  average  within  tlircM!  mii(;s  of  eveiy 
working-niaii's  do(jr  in  the  kingdom,  ^riie  offices  were  opcni 
diiily.  Th(!y  received  money  from  all  comin's,  nnd  gave  vouchers 
for  the  amounts  transmitted  through  them.  Tli(\v  held  the 
money  until  it  was  th-awn,  iind  ))aid  it  out  on  a  projxn'  voucIku' 
beii)''  ])res('nt((d.  "^ria  post-ollici^  Avas,  iu  fu't,  a  bank  for  the 
triinsmissi(.)n  of  moue  holding  it  for  |)eriods  of  from  twenty- 
four  houi's  to  weeks  a;  .  itlis.  Dy  enabling  it  to  r(H'(n"v(! 
moie  money  from  more  (U  ,  itors,  and  by  incrensiug  the  tinir 
of  holding  it,  all-'wing  th(^  u;;tiid  int<'i'est,  ii  became  to  all  intents 
and  jHirjtoscs  w  national  bank  ol' deposit. 

The  results  of  the  I'ost-ollice  SaAiiigs  l>anks  Ai't  liavi^  proved 
entirely  satisfactory.  I'he  moiun-order  offices  have  l)een  lai'g(dy 
ext<Mideil.  Thciy  are  now  altont  four  thousand  in  number,  con- 
se(pu>ntly  tin;  lai-ilities  for  sa\ingha\e  be<'n  nearly  doubled  sinee 
the  l>anks  weiv;  established.  Tic  nundiei-  in  the  London  distiict 
is  now  about  four  hundi'eil  and  sixty,  so  that  from  any  point  iu 
the  thickly  populate(l  parts  of  the  metro|>olis  a  saAings-bank 
may  b(!  tound  within  a.  distances  of  a  few  hundred  yards.  The 
number  of  tla^  depositors  at  the  end  of  ISTJi  amounti'(l  to  more 
than  a,  nullion  and  a,  half;  while  the  amount  of  deposits  reached 
over  twenty-one  millitnis  steiling.*  At  tl;e  same  tinu;  th(^ 
amount  deposited  with  the  original  savings-banl;s  remained  about 
th(^  same. 

l*ost-office  savings-banks  possess  several  great  advantages 
Avhieh  ought  to  b(>  geneivdly  known.  ^Plw^  banks  are  V(uy  widc^ly 
ditfused,  .Mud  are  ojien  t'r(>m  nine  in  the  morning  until  six  in  the 
(vviMiing,  and  on  Saturdays  until  ninc^  at  night.  Persons  may 
make  a  deposit  of  a,  shilling,  or  of  any  nmuber  of  shillings,  pro- 
vided more  than  thirty  |)ounds  is  not  deposited  in  any  one  year. 
The  post-office  officers  furnish    the   book  in   which  the  sevei'al 

•  Tho  amount  reached  a;23,157,4«9  at  the  und  of  1874. 


o. 


CHAP,  VIII.] 


Post-office  Savimjs-hanks. 


143 


Mlcly 

i\  tli«' 

liuiiy 

pro- 

:o!ir. 

/(M'lvl 


deposits  are  entered.  The  l)ook  also  contains  llie  regulations  of 
tlie  post-office  saviiiijjs  banks.  Interest  is  allowed  at  tlie  rate  of 
two  ponnds  ten  sliillinus  per  cent.  j»er  annum. 

Another  most  important  jjoint  is  the  Security.  CTOvernment 
is  responsible  for  the;  full  amount  ])iiid  in  ;  so  that  the  money 
dopt)sited  with  the  })()stot!ices!ivin£^s-l)ank  is  as  safe  as  if  it  were 
in  the  Dank  of  England.  The  money  saAcd  mny  mIso  \n\  traiis- 
fcu-red  from  place  to  place,  without  expense,  aiid  may  Ix;  easily 
paid  to  the  depositor  wlum  rcMpiired,  no  matter  wheic  it  was 
originally  de})osited.  All  that  is  done,  is  done  in  jKrfect  secrecy 
between  the  depositor  and  the  postmaster,  who  is  forbidden  to 
disclose  tlu^  ntimc^s  of  the  depositors. 

We  havH;  fre([uently  alluded  to  Mr.  (Iinrles  William  Sikes  in 
comiection  with  penny  baidssand  |)os(-()trK'(!  sa\  ings-banks.  Jlis 
name  must  always  hold  a  distidguislied  jilace  in  connection  with 
those  valuabh^  institutions.  He  is  the  son  of  a  ])rivate  bankej- 
in  Hudderstield.  AVhen  at  school,  he  was  presented,  as  a  pi'ize. 
with  a  copy  of  Dr.  Franklin's  "  Jvssays  and  Lettei-s."  He 
perused  tlu^  book  with  avidity.  It  implanted  ivi  his  mind  tlu^ 
fjcrmsof  many  useful  thoughts, and  (^\(>rcised  a  powerful  inllucncii 
in  giving  a  practical  character  to  his  life.  JI  udderstield  is  a  busy 
inauufacturing  town.  Altlunigh  workmen  were  well  paid  for 
tlieir  labor,  there  were  many  ups  and  downs  in  their  business. 
When  trade  became  slack,  and  they  had  spent  all  that  they  had 
earned,  nund)(U's  of  them  were  accustomed  to  a|)ply  for  charity 
in  the;  streets  or  by  tlm  wayside.  Young  Sikes  often  wond(M'ed 
wlietlun*  these  pc'oj)le  had  (>ver  heard  of  Dr.  Fraidvlin.  .-.nd  of  his 
method  of  avoiding  beggary  or  bad  times  by  saving  their  money 
wluMi  trad(!  was  brisk  and  they  were  well  off. 

Ka,rly  in  18.'b'3,  INIr.  Sikes  entered  the  serN'ice  of  the  Hudders- 
field  Banking  (Vnupany.  It  was  the  second  joint-stock  bank 
that  had  biuMi  establishe(l  in  Kngland.  The  ])iudence  and  suc<'ess 
with  which  the  Scotch  banking  companies  had  been  conducted 
induced  the  dir(>ctor.,  to  select  a  Scotch  manager.  ()n(^  of  tlm 
tii'st  I'esolutions  tlm  directors  adopted  was  togiA'<^  deposit  recei[)tH 
for  sums  of  ten  pounds  and  upward,  for  the  purjiose  of  encoui'ag- 
ing  tl'.o  working-classes  inliabits  of  pro\idence  and  thrift.  Mr. 
Sikes,  being  somewhat  of  a  favorit*^   with  tlu>  manager,  often 


w.m 

ill  I 


Hi 


!■ 


■  ;t 


M 


i'.' 


••#!« 


144 


Charles  W.  Sikes. 


[chap.  mh. 


heard  IV  mm  Iiis  lii).s  ino.st  iut(;n'stiii,!jj  arroiiuts  of  the  [)n)vi(l(!ut 
hithiws  of  tlici  Sc'otcli  peasantry,  and  Avas  iufoniiccl  l»y  liim  of  tlio 
Ihut  tiiat  oiu;  of  tlio  banks  at  Porth  p-iid  not  l(;ss  than  twenty 
thousand  pounds  a  ycav  as  intoust  (jn  (U'|>()sits  varying  from  ten 
to  two  Inui'Irt'd  jtouuds  cacli. 

In  IS.'57,  JMr.  Sikcs  l)(;cain(^  one  of  tho  fasliicrs  of  tlic  conipjuiy. 
This  hrouiu'lit  iiini  into  direct  contact  iind  intercourse  with  tlic 
vcny  cliiss  whicli,  from  th(^  <lir((ction  lii.s  mind  was  taking',  lie  so 
n'lucii  wished  to  und(>rst:iiid,  n.-iuicly,  the  ihrifty  jtortion  of  the 
in(hisi:rious  chisscs.      A  consi(h"i\iliK'   nundtei- of  1  hem  li:id  sums 


viuii"  at  intei'cst       As  years  I'o 


k"d 


on, 


:m 


r.  Sikes  often  witness- 


ed the  deposit'Oi  connnencin;;-  with  ten  or  twenty  pounds,  then 
niakinu;'  pernumeni.  aihlitions  to  his  lit  Me  store,  until  at  leni^'tli 
(ho  amount  would  reach  one,  two,  or,  in  a  few  instances  cncm 
three    hundi'ed    poei;<!s.      Mr.    .Sik<'s    would    often    imagine   the 

that  woidd   lie  eli'eclcd  in  the  condition 


niar\  clous  luiorovcmcnt 


>f   til 


e    woi-kiii^cla.'sc 


if 


cNt'ry   memlicr   ( 


4'  tl 


icm   liecanic    iu- 


lluenced  l»y  the  saii.c  iVu^'ality  and  iorethou^ht  whi<'h  indiiccil 
thesiM'Xceptional  (tpci'at  ives  to  dejiosit  their  sa\in^s  at  his  hank. 

Ahout  thai  (inie,  trade  was  in  a  wi'ctchcd  condition.  Tlic 
hanil  loom  wea\crs  were  almost  entirely  without  employment. 
l'i'i\ation  and  suH'ci  in^i,'  pfevaiU'd  on  cxci'v  side,  and  ihes(>  were 
often  lnjrnc  with'silcnt  and   no'ole  heroism,       \';irioiis   I't-uuMlics 

re  pro|(osed  for  the  (ixistinn'  e\  ils.      S(»cialism.  chartism,  mikI 


W( 


free    trade    were    the    faAorit 


es. 


Theories   of   the   wildest  and 


most  impract ica!>h^  character  aliounded  ;  and  yet,  v\r\\  in  those 
«hirk  days,  tliei' "  were  instances  (»f  men  who  had  t.o  some  d(\:;i'cc 
made  the  luture  predonunate  ox^w  the  present,  who  could  fall 
hack  upon  their  r(>serve  in  the  joint  stock  or  s.uinn's  hank  to  tide 
them  ov'T  into  hetter  times.  IJeiieviui^'  in  tin'  hene>I,ent  results 
of  i'ree  trade,  Air.  Sikes  was  eipndly  con\iiiceil  that  natioiiid 
prosperity,  as  w(dl  as  national  aihcrsity,  nii^'ht  he  attended  with 
nreat  e\ils,  unless  the  masses  were  endowed  with  liahits  of  |)l(i- 
videni-e  and  thriit,  and  prepared  hy  |ire\  ions  education  for  llic 
"i-oodtiuu^  coming'"  so  elocpu'Utly  piH'dicted  hy  tluf  orators  nf 
the  1iea,u;u(\ 

iVbmv  discussions  with    workinif-men.  in    his  honieward  e\cii 


in^  w 


alks,  convinced  .Mr.  »Sikes  (hat.  there  wei 


e  social   proliMMil^ 


niAP. 


VII  I.  j 


Hirij'tli'ssneHS  of  the  Masses. 


145 


■with  Avliidi  Icgisliitioii  wouM  Ix'  jilinost  ))<)\V(>rl('s.s  to  _u:r;i])j)lo, 
and  of  these  tlio  tlirit'th'ssiiess  of  tlie  masses  of  tlie  people  was 
one.  An  employer  of  iive-hnmlrcMl  hand-loom  weavers  liad  told 
Mr.  Sikes  that  in  a  ])i'evions  period  of  prosjyeritv,  wluMi  woi'k 
Avas  ahundant  and  waj^cs  were  veiy  hiijh,  lu^  eould  not,  had  he 
he,ifi>;(Hl  on  bended  knee,  \\'.x\v  indueed  his  men  to  save  a  sin<fle 
itennv,  or  to  lav  hv  anythini;  foi-  a  rainv  day.  The  fancy  waist- 
coating  triide  had  uniformly  had  its  cych^s  of  alt(!rnat(!  briskness 
and  de])i"ession  ;  but  experience,  howevei*  stern  its  teachiiii^s, 
conld  not  t(>ach  unwillini;'  homers.  It  was  at  this  p(M'iod  that 
^fr.  Sikes  was  rea<lin;j;  the  kite  Archbishoj)  Sumner's  "  llecords 
of  Creation,"  and  met  with  the  following'  |tassau:e  :  '"Thfionly 
true  secret  of  assisting  the  poor  is  to  make  them  a<j;'(Mits  in 
licttcring  their  own  condition." 

Simple  ns  are  tlie  words,  they  shed  light  intoiNIr.  Sikes'  mind, 
and  bt'Ciinie  the  key-note  and  the  test  to  which  he  bi-ought  tin; 
v.'irions  yiews  and  theories  which  he  had  pi'cniously  met  with. 
Doles  and  charities,  though  founde<l  tVe(|uent!y  on  the  most 
liene\(»lent  motives.  w(M"e  too  often  deteriorating  to  their  i-ecipi- 
ciits.  (>n  the  otli(»r  hand,  if  self-relian'-e  and  self-help-  -the 
coluinns  of  true  nnijesty  in  man  could  only  be  madc^  chai-acter- 
istics  of  th(^  working-classes  g(>n(>rally.  nothing  could  retard  their 
onward  and  upward  pi-ogress.  ]\lr.  Sil-ies  (»]»ser\(Ml  that  nnlil 
tlie  working-classes  ha(l  more  of  the  n\on(W  power  in  their  hands, 
they  would  still  be  periodically  in  poNcrty  and  distress.  Ife 
saw  that  if  pro\idcnt  habits  could  only  be  generally  pursu(Ml  by 
tlicm,  the  face  of  society  would  immediately  Ix^  transfornu'd  ; 
and  he  I'csoh'cd.  in  so  far  as  lay  in  his  powei',  to  gi\(^  every  aid 
to  this  good  wood. 

In  iS.'jO,  sa\ings  l>anks  wci-c  only  open  a  \('i'\-  few  hours  in 
oacli  week.  In  I  luddci-sticld,  where  more  than  lour  hundi'cd 
111  lusand  pounds  a,  year  was  paid  in  w.-iges.  the  sayings-l>ank,  after 
lia\iiig  been  est.ablishod  o\'(M'  thirty  years,  had  only  accumulated 
sc\-enty-four  thousand  thi'(>e  hundred  and  thirty-two  pounds. 
In  IS.IO.  Mr.  Sikes  addressed  an  anonymous  let  Icr  to  the  editors 
<>l' the  Lci'dx  .]/rrciir//,  to  which,  by  llieir  i'e(|uest,  he  afterward 
attached  his  name.     In  that  letter  he  recommended  the  formation 


<>l  penny  sa\  ings 


baidc 


s  in  connection  with  mechanics'  iin<l  similar 


W 


m 


I      '  ii 


;(u 


(ft. 


•iU 


i.'#3 


146 


Penny  Somnys-Bayihs  Formed.  [cHAP.  viii. 


institutes.  In  siiaplo  words,  but  Vvitli  iiiauy  telling  facts,  he 
showed  how  tlie  young  men  and  the  young  women  of  the 
working-oliisses  were  growing  u}>  deprived  of  almost  every 
opportunity  of  forming  ha1)its  of  thiift,  and  of  becoming 
dei)Ositors  in  savings-banks. 

The  letter  was  received  with  general  aj)probation.  The  com- 
mittee of  the  Yorkshire  Union  of  Mechanics'  Institutes  gave 
their  cordial  sanction  to  it ;  and  ju'nny  banks  were  established 
in  connection  with  nearly  every  nuichanics'  institute  in  Yorkshire. 
Mr.  Sikes  })ersonally  conducted  one  at  Huddersiield  ;  and,  down 
to  the  present  time,  it  has  received  and  re})aid  about  .£30,000. 
In  fact,  the  working-p(u)ple  of  Huddersiield,  doubtless  owing  in 
a  great  measure  to  the  pi-actical  example  of  Mr.  Hikes,  have 
become  most  jirovident  and  thrifty,  the  deposits  in  their  saviugs- 
bank  liavimr  increased  from  .£74,000  in  1^50  to  j£330,000  in 
1874. 

In  1S54,  Mr.  Sik(>s  published  his  excellent  pamphlet  on 
**  (lood  Times  ;  or.  The  Savings-bank  and  the  Fiieside,"  to 
which  w(;  hav(!  already  referred.  The  success  which  it  met 
withinduccid  hiui  to  give  his  attentiou  to  the  subject  of  savings- 
banks  geiKjrally.  He-  was  surprised  to  iind  that  they  were  so 
ntterly  inade(]uate  to  nn^'t  the  reipiirements  of  the  country. 
He  sought.au  interview  with  Sir  (..'oi-newall  Lewis,  then  (Jhaii- 
celh)r  of  the  Kxcliequer,  and  brought  the  subject  under  his 
consi<l(!ratiou.  Tlu*  chancelloi-  re({uested  Mr.  Sikes  to  end)0(ly 
his  views  in  a  lettei-,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  months  there 
a])p(Mn'ed  a,  j)am[>hlet  addressed  to  Sir  Cornewall  Lewis,  tmtitled 
"  Savings-bauks  Iveforms."  Mr.  Sikes  insisted  on  the  Govern- 
nu'ut  guaiaiitee  being  given  for  deposits  uiade  in  savings-banks; 
but  lliis  was  refnsed. 

Mr.  Sikes  next  })roceeded  to  ventilates  the  (pu'stion  of  post- 
otHoe  savings-banks.  He  was  disappointed  that  no  measui'efor 
the  iiu})ro\'ement  of  sa\iugs-baid;s  had  been  a(lo})ted  by  Pai'lia- 
ment.  '"'le  day  appeared  very  distar't  wlu^n  his  cherished  wisli 
would  b(i  realized — tliat  tlie  savings-bank  should  really  become 
the  Dank  of  the  Pcioplo.  Ihit  the  darkest  hour  juHsccnleH  the 
dawn.  Wluai  he  had  almost  given  n]»  tlie  notion  of  improviui? 
the  existing  savings-banks,  the  idea  suddenly  struck  him  that 


CHAP.  VIII.] 


Charles  tV.  Sikes. 


147 


in  the  nionoy-order  oHice  tlinro  was  the  v«My  or^auizutioii  wliieli 
might  be  made  the  basis  of  a  jujjmlar  savini,'s-b;u)k. 

He  coniinunieatiHl  his  phm  in  a  hitter  tohis  fiieiul  T>Ii'.  IJaines, 
then  member  for  Leeds.  The  ])hin  Avas  submitted  to  Sir  Kow- 
hiiid  Hill,  who  ap[)rc)ved  of  the  suj^oestions,  and  coasidered  tin? 
scheme  "  practicalde  so  fai-  as  the  })Ost-otiie(i  v/as  coiiceriud." 
The  plan  was  then  brought  under  the  notice  of  Mr.  CUadstone, 
who  afterward  carried  the  bill  tlirou^di  Parliament  for  the  es- 
tablishment of  post-otTicesa\in^s-bauks  throughout  the  country. 

To  use  the  words  of  IMr.  Sikc^s  himself,  when  ])redieting,  at 
the  Social  Science  Association,  tin;  success  of  llu  ])ost-otli(e 
s.avings-banks,  "  Should  the  plan  be  carried  out,  it  will  soon  be 
doing  a  glorious  work.  Whenever  a  bank  is  ojKMied,  and  deposits 
received,  st^lf-reliance  will  to  some  extent  be  aroused;  and,  with 
many,  a  nobler  life  will  be  begun.  They  willgi-adually  discern 
how  ruthhiss  an  enemy  is  improvideuiH^  to  working-men  ;  and 
how  truly  his  friends  are  economv  and  foj-ethouLiht.  Under 
their  guidance,  household  pui'chases  could  Ix;  madc^  on  tlie  most 
favored  terms— -/J<y  caxJi  ;  any  wished-for  house  taken  at  tiie 
lowest  rent_/(>r  jiiitivfual  jxiipneid  ;  and  tlu;  home  enriched  with 
comforts  until  it  is  enjoyed  and  prized  by  all.  From  svu'li  lirtv 
sides  go  foi'th  those  inheriting  th(^  I'ight  spirit,  lo\ing  industry, 
loving  tlii'ift.  and  loving  home.  I'hnuloiis  of  a  good  exam))le, 
they  in  their  day  and  generation  would  nobly  endeavor  to  lay 
by  a  ])ortion  of  tlieir  income.  Many  a  hard  winter  and  many  a 
slack  tin."  would  be  coniirrtal»ly  got  oxer  by  di-aAving  on  the 
little  fund,  to  be  again  replenished  in  better  days.  And  if  the 
])lan  wcu'e  adopted,  reuu'mbei'ing  that  it  would  virtually  bi-ing 
the  savingsd»ank  witliin  less  than  an  hour's  walk  of  tlu^  iiresiile 
of  every  working-man  in  tlu^  United  Kingdinn,  I  trust  that  it 
is  not  taking  too  sanguine  a,  \  iew  to  autici[>ati;  that  it  would 
''cndtn"  aid  in  ultimati^ly  winning  o\er  the  rank  and  Hie  of  tlm 
industrial  classes  of  the  kiugtlom  to  those  habits  oi' forc^thought 
iuid  self-denial  which  hring  enduring  reward  to  th(^  individual, 
and  nuit(irially  add  to  the  safety  of  tlie  state." 

Th(3  working-elassi's  have  not  yet,  however,  taken  full  advan- 
tage of  the  facilities  for  saving  aftbrded  them  by  the  post-ollice 
savings-banks.       Take    JJirmingham,   for  instance,    where  tho 


i. 


■  Si'' 


'^H- 

iil 


A 


n 


148 


SavliKja  of  Artisans. 


[(!1IAP 


VIII. 


artisans  are  among  the  best  paid  workmen  of  the  town.  In 
the  list  of  depositors  in  tlie  j)Ost-office  savings-l)anks,  we  find 
that  tlie  artisans  rank  after  tlie  domestic  servants,  after  tlio 
man-ied  and  nninarried  wome^i,  and  after  tlie  minors.  Thoy 
only  constitute  about  one-touith  of  the  entire  depositors,  though 
it  IS  possible  that  they  may  deposit  their  savings  in  some  other 
inv(;stments. 

Then  take  the  returns  for  the  entire  United  Kingdom.  Out 
of  every  ten  thousand  de])ositors  in  the  post-office  savings- 
banks,  we  find  that  the  domestic  servants  are  again  the  first ; 
n(>.xt,  the  women,  ninrried  and  single  ;  next,  persons  of  "  no  oc- 
cui)ation"  and  "occupation  not  given;"  next,  the  artisans,  and 
after -them  the  laborers,  minors,  tradesm<Mi,  soldiers  and  sailors, 
clerks,  milliners  and  dress-makers,  ])i'ofessional  men  and  public 
officials,  in  the  order  stated.  We  nnist,  however,  regard  the 
institution  as  still  too  young  to  have*  ^'dly  taken  root.  We  be- 
lieve tluit  the  living  g(nieration  nnist  j)!iss  away  before  the  full 
fruits  of  tlu^  }»()st-office  savings-banks  can  be  gathered  in. 

The  inliahitants  of  I'reston  have  exhibited  a  strong  disposi- 
tion to  save  their  earnings  during  the  last  few  years,  more 
especially  since  the  comdusion  of  the  last  great  strike,  '^I^hero 
is  no  town  in  Knghmd.  except  ])erhaps  Huddersfield,  where  the 
])eo])le  have  proved  themsehcs  so  ja'ovident  and  so  thrifty. 
Fifty  years  ago,  only  one  pc^rson  in  thii'ty  of  the  population  of 
Pi'eston  de]»osited  money  in  th(!  savings-baidv  ;  twenty  years  ago 
the  depositors  increased  to  one  in  eleven  ;  and  last  y(!ar  they 
had  increased  to  one  in  five.  In  1 8lH,  the  sum  of  £105,000  had 
been  accumulated  in  the  sa^•ings-bank  by  5,942  de|K)sitors  ;  and 
in  1S74,  fl7J,()()0  had  been  accunndated  by  14,7*.)2  (h^))ositoi-s. 
out  of  a,  total  jxtpulation  of  85,428.  Js  there  any  other  town 
or  city  that  can  show  a  more  satisfaetoiy  result  of  the  teaching, 
tin?  experience,  and  the  ju'osperity  of  the  last  twenty  years? 


!f  villi 

(;'  ';?1| 

<!U 


ClfAlTKn    IX. 


LITTLK    TIIINCS. 


f-» 


Tlic  sohcr  ooiniort,  all  tlu;  ix  I'.'c  wliit-li  spi'iiif(s 

From  the  liiruc  n^iLfrcifiili'  of  liUlc  lliiii^s  ; 

On  these  .small  cans  ol' daiinhtcr,  wile,  or  friend, 


The  all 


TIannaii  Nroor.K. 


ire 


he  almost  sacred  joys  of  Home  dejtend 

"  Kimw  when  to  spend  and  when  to  sjiare, 
And  when  to  Iniy,  and  thou  shalt  ne'(.'r  be  li; 

"Ue   that  despiseth  little  things,   sliall   perish  hy  little  and  little."— 
]'riirrrbs  of  SoIohkhi. 

NEGLl^XvT  of  sinal]  tilings  is  tli(>  rock  on  wjiicili  tlio  gi-cat 
inajority  of  the  luiinaii  vact*  have  split.  Jfuinaii  lif(^ 
consists  of  a,  siu-ccssion  of  small  events,  eaeli  of  Mliieh  is  eoui- 
pai'atively  iuiiin))ort;iiit,  and  yet  tlie  liii))|)iiiess  and  sneeess  of 
(neiy  man  de})end  npon  \\\v.  manner  in  wliieli  tlie^se  small  e\«Mits 
art!  dealt  with.  ( 'liaraetei*  is  bnilt  n})  on  little  tlii]i,!.fs — little 
tilings  well  and  lionoi'ably  ti'ans;iete<l.  The  sneeess  of  a,  man  in 
Inisiness  depends  on  his  attention  to  little  things.  '^Phe  eomfort 
of  ii  household  is  th'M'esnit  of  small  tl»in_ijs  well  aiTiino'ed  and 
fluly  i)rovid(!d  for.  ({ood  iJfovernment  cauoidy  l»e  aeeom))lished 
in  tlit^  same  way--l)V  well-re'^Milated  pioxisions  for  the  doin<i;  of 
little  thinos. 

Aeeumnlations  of  knowledge  and  exprrienee  of  the  most 
'iiluable  kind  are  the  I'esult  of  littht  hits  of  knowledoe  and  ex- 
jierienco  oarefnily  treasuriMl  up.  Those  who  h'arn  nothini^,  or 
aocunndate  nothitity  in  life,  are  sc^t  down  as  failures,  heoause 
they  have  n(!o;leeted  I'ttle  thinos.  They  rniiy  tlu'iuseh^^s  eon- 
sider  tlmt  the  world  has  o-ouc  nojiinst  them  ;  hut,  in  fa.-t,  tiny 
liave  heeii  their  own  enemies.  There  has  lontf  he-m  a.  popular 
holief  in  "good  luck;"   hut,   like   many  oiJusr    popular  nt)tions, 


■|. 


U\ 


ill 


150 


Luck  and  Labor. 


[chap.  IX, 


it  is  gnulujilly  giviiiij  wiiy.  Tlus  (.oiiviolioii  is  cxttiiuliiig  that 
diligence  is  tlie  inothei"  of  good  luclc ;  in  other  words,  tJiiit  a 
man's  success  in  lite  will  be  })rop(n-iioniite  to  his  elForts,  to  liis 
industry,  to  his  jittentiou  to  snitdl  things.  Your  negligent, 
shiftless,  loose  fellows  never  meet  witli  luck  ;  because  the  result  of 
industry  ai'e  denied  to  those  who  will  not  use  the  projjcr  efforts 
to  secure  tliem. 

It  is  not  luck,  but  labor,  that  makes  men.  Luck,  says  an 
American  writer,  is  evrr  v.  .liting  for  something  to  turn  up ; 
Labor,  with  keen  (^ye  and  strong  will,  always  turns  up  some- 
thing. Ijuck  li(!S  in  bed,  and  wishes  tlie  jiostuian  wovdd  bring 
liim  news  of  a  legacy  ;  Jja))or  turns  out  at  six,  and  with  busy 
j)en  or  riuging  hamnnu-  lays  the  f(»uudation  of  a  competence. 
Luck  whines  ;  Labor  whistles.  fi.ick  relies  on  chance  ;  Jiabor. 
on  character.  Luck  .slips  downward  to  self-indulgence  ;  Labor 
strides  u})ward,  and  iiS[)iri's  to  independence. 

There  an;  many  little  things  in  the  household,  attention  to 
which  is  indispiMisalile  to  health  and  happiness,  (Jleanlini's.s 
consists  in  attention  to  a  numbei-  of  ap])arent  trifles — the 
scrubbing  of  a  floor,  tin;  dusting  of  a  chair,  the  cleansing  of  a 
t(!a-cu}) ;  but  the  general  result  of  the  whole  is  an  atmosphere 
of  mond  and  })hysical  well-lteijig-— a  condition  favorable  to  the 
highest  growth  of  human  character.  The  kind  of  air  which 
circulates  in  a  house  may  seem  a  small  matter,  for  we  can  not 
see  the  air,  and  few  ])i'oplo  know  any  thing  about  it ;  yet  if  we 
do  not  pi'ovide  a  regular  sup[)1y  of  pui'e  air  withi]i  our  houses. 
we  shall  inevitable  sufl'er  for  our  n(\glect.  A  few  sjx^cks  of  dirt 
may  seem  neitluu-  here  no  thei'e,  and  a  close*!  door  or  window 
would  a}tpea.r  to  make  little  difference  ;  lait  it  may  make  the 
difference  of  a  life  destioyed  by  fe\-er  ;  and  th(!refoi-o  the  little 
dirt  and  the  little  bad  air  are  really  very  serious  matters.  The 
whole  of  th(^  household  I'egidations  ari>,  taken  by  themselves, 
trifh>s,  but  trilles  teiuling  to  important  results, 

A  ])in  is  a  vt^ry  litth^  thing  in  an  article  of  dress,  but  the  way 
in  whi(!h  it  is  ])ut  into  the  dress  often  reveals  to  you  the  charac- 
ter of  the  wearer,  A  shrewd  fellow  was  once  looking  out  for  a 
wife,  and  was  on  a  visit  to  a  family  of  daughters  with  this  ob- 
ject.    The  fair  one,  of  whom  he  was  partially  enamored,  one 


CHAP.  IX.] 


Neglect  of  Little  Things 


151 


(lav  fiitcn'tl  tlir  i'()(»i;i  in  wliii-li  he  was  sciitrd,  w  itii  lici-  dn^ss 
partially  iin})iiiuecl  aiul  licr  hair  untidy  :  he  lu^'er  went  back. 
You  may  say,  such  a  fellow  was  "not  woith  a  j)in  ;"  hut  he  was 
really  a  shrewd  fellow,  and  afterward  made  a  <j;ood  hushand. 
He  judged  of  women  as  of  nuMi — l»y  litthf  things;  and  In?  was 
■;:ht. 

A  druggist  advertised  for  an  assistant,  and  he  luid  applications 
from  a  score  of  young  men.  He  invited  them  all  to  come  to  his 
shoj)  at  tlu?  same  time,  and  set  them  each  to  make  up  a  ])enny- 
worth  of  salts  into  a  packet.  He  selet'ted  the  (jue  that  did  this 
little:  thing  in  the  neatest  and  most  cxjx'rt  manner,  llv.  inferred 
their  general  ]>ractical  ahility  fi'om  their  performance  of  this 
smallest  hit  of  l)usiness. 

Neglect  of  little  things  has  ruin<'<l  many  fortunes  and  marred 
tli(^  l)est  of  enterjirises.  The  shij*  whicii  hoi-e  home  the  mer- 
oliants  treasure  was  lost  bccausj?  it  was  allowed  to  leave  the 
]iort  i'voxn  which  it  sailed  with  a  wry  little  hole  in  tln'  l)ott(nn. 
For  want  of  a  nail,  tlm  shoe  of  the  aid-de-camp's  hoi'sc  was  lost; 
♦o?'  want  of  the  shoe,  the  horse  was  lost;  for  want  of  the  horse, 

('  aid-de-camp  himself  was  lost,  for  the    enemy  took  him  and 
..iK'd  him  ;  and  i\)V  want  of  the  !«i<l-de-cam])'s  intelligence,  the 
ariay  of  his  general  was  lost.      And  all  because  a  little  nail  had 
not  been  ]>roperly  tixed  in  a  horse's  sluu?  I 

"It  will  do  1"  is  the  connuon  ])hi'ase  of  those  who  neglect  little 
tilings.  '"It  will  dol"  has  lilighted  many  a  charactei',  blasted 
many  a  fortune,  sunk  many  a  shij),  burned  down  many  a  house, 
ami  irretrievable  ruined  thousands  of  ho]»efu]  pi-qjects  of  human 
good.  It  always  means  stopping  short  of  tin;  rii;ht  thing.  It 
is  a  make-shift.  It  is  a  failure  and  di 'feat.  Not  what  "  will 
ilo,"  but  what  is  tlie  best  })()ssible  thing  to  do.  is  th(>  jH>int  to  b(> 
aimed  at!  L(^t  a  man  once  adopt  the  maxim  of  "  It  will  do," 
said  he  is  given  over  to  tlw  enemy  ;  he  is  on  the  sidi;  of  incom- 
l)etency  and  defeat  ;  and  we  give  him  up  as  a,  hopeless  subject  ! 

M.  Say,  t]w  French  political  economist,  has  relatcMl  the  fol- 
lowing illustration  of  th"  ji"gleet  of  littlt-  things  :  Once,  at  a 
faiin  in  tin;  country,  there  was  a  gate  inclosing  tin?  cattle  and 
poultry,  whicli  was  constantly  swinging  o])en  for  want  of  a  pro- 
per  hitch.     The    expenditure  of  a   })einiy   or   two,  and    a  few 


152 


Spi'iidiiKj  of  Pennies. 


[chap, 


IX. 


CHAP.   IX 


iiiinutcs'  time,  wuiild  liave  made  sill  right.  It  was  on  the  .swiiii; 
every  time  a  person  wont  out,  and  not  Ix'ini;'  in  a  state  to  sliiit 
readily,  many  of  tlie  poultry  wovct  from  time  to  time  lost.  Oik^ 
d.'iy  a  line  young  })Oi'kor  m.-ide  liis  (\s('aj)e,  and  the  whoh;  family, 
with  tlie  gai'dner,  cook,  and  milkmaid,  turned  out  in  (juest  of 
the  fugitive.  The  gai'dner  was  the  first  to  discover  the  ])ig, 
and,  in  leaping  a  ditch  to  cut  off  his  escape,  got  a  sprain  that 
kept  him  to  his  bed  for  a  fortnight.  The  cook,  on  her  i-eturn  to 
th(^  farm-house,  found  the  linen  Innned  that  she  had  liung  \^^ 
hefore  tlu;  fire  to  dry  ;  and  the  milkit.aid  having  forgotten,  in 
h(n'  haste,  to  ti(^  up  the  cattle  in  the  cow-house,  one  of  the  loose 
cows  had  broken  tlu!  leg  of  a  colt  tliat  hapj)ened  to  be  kej)t  in 
the  same  sIkmI.  The  linen  l)ur]ied  ami  the  ga.rdn"r's  work  lost 
were  worth  full  five  ])oun(is,  and  the  colt  worth  nearly  double 
that  monc^y  :  so  that  Ikm'c  was  a  loss  in  a,  few  minutes  of  a  large 
sum,  purely  for  want  of  a  little  latch  which  might  have  l)e('n 
supplied  for  a  few  half-pence. 

Ijifci  is  full  of  illustrations  of  a  similar  kind.  When  smnll 
things  ar(>  habitually  neglected,  ruin  is  not  faj'  off.  It  is  the 
liand  of  the  diligent  that  makcth  rich  ;  and  the  diligent  man  or 
woman  is  attentive  to  small  things  as  well  asgi'cat.  The  thills 
may  a]>pcar  \v\\  little  and  insignitii^ant,  yet  attention  to  tlicin 
is  as  necessary  as  to  matters  of  greater  moment. 

T\d\(>,  foi'  instance,  the  Innublest  of  coins — a  ])enny.  What 
is  the  use  of  thali  little  ]>iece  of  cop))er — a  solitiuy  j>eimy  \ 
What  can  it  buy  'I  Of  what  use  is  it  i!  It  is  half  the  ]»i'ice  ol'a 
glass  of  beer.  It  is  the  [>i-ice  of  a  l)o\  of  matches.  It  is  only 
fit  foi-  gi\iiig  to  a  beggar.  .\nd  yet  how  much  of  human  ha|)|ti- 
ness  depends  \\\w\\  (he  sjx'udiiig  of  the  penny  well  ! 

A  man  may  work  hard.  ar.>  earn  high  wages  ;  but  if  lie 
aHow  the  ]>ennies,  which  ai'c  liie  res\d(  of  hard  work,  to  slip 
out  of  his  lingers — sonu^  ,i?<'iiig'  f"  <he  beer  shop,  sonu^  this  way, 
and  some  that  he  will  lind  that  his  liie  of  hard  work  is  liKlf 
raised  abo\(^  a  life  of  animal  drudgery.  ( )n  the  other  hand,  if 
he  take  caie  of  the  ]>ennies.  putting  some  weekly  inio  a  benelit 
Ho<!i(>ty  or  an  insui-ance  fund,  othei-s  into  a  savings-Iiank,  ami 
confide  (he  r(>st  to  his  wife  to  be  carefully  laid  out,  with  a  view 
to   the  comfortable  maintenanee  and  cuKure  of  his  faniilv,  li'' 


ft 


CHAP.   IX.] 


The  Thrifty  Woman. 


153 


11'   i-fffl 


will  soon  liiul  lliiit  his  attiniLioii  to  small  matt(^rs  will  almud- 
tly  rc[)ay  him,  iu  iuci'easiu,i;  means,  in  comToit  at  home,  and 


iin 
iu 


I  mind  comiiaratiNclv  fi'ci'  tVom  t'oavs  as  to  XXw  future 


'1 

All  saviuiis  arc  ma,(U'  ui)  of  little  thiuufs 


ld» 


maKes  a   iiucKli 
saved  is  the  seei 


M 


i\l 


d  (.f 


my  a  [)enuy   makes  a  [)oui 


k(' 


oouiuls   saved 


And 


iVlany  a    little 

1.      A  jx'nny 

jxMinds   sa\('tl  means 


comfort,  [denty,  wi^alth,  and  iude]i(Midenee.  I»ut  (lie  j»enny 
iiuist  !»e'  earned  honestly.  It  is  said  (hat  a  jx'nny  eaiiu'd 
lionestly  is  hetUu'  than  a.  slnllinn'  ifi\en.  A  Seoteh  provei'lt 
says,  "The  gear  tiiat  is  liifttMl  isne\ei'  sat'  sweet  as  tli<^  .u'eai" 
tli;i,t  is  won."  What  thoui^li  (lie  penny  Ix;  hlai-k  i  "  The  smi(h 
and  his  pc^nny  are  hoth  l»l;iel<."  lint  (Ik;  [leniiN  earned  l>y 
sinitli  is  an  honest  one. 


til 


If 


a   man    does  not    knew   how    (d  saAc   his   pennies  or   hi 


|M)unds,  his  no,S(^  will  always  he  kept   (o  (lie  urindstune.      Want 


may  come  upon   linn  any  <l;iy 


like  an   ariiieii  man. 


Careful 


siiviiiii,"  acts  lik(MU!iyic  :  once  hci^nn,  it  ^rtiws  iiUo  a  haltit.  It 
y;i\('s  a.  man  a  feeling"  <»l'  sal  ist'a<'tion,  of  s(reii,i;(ii,  ttf  security. 
Tlie  pennies  he  has  |»ut  aside  ill  his  sa\  iiius-lioN,  or  in  the 
sa\  ini^'s-liank,  ,ni\c  liini  an  assiiraiicr  df  eumforl  in  sickness,  or 
(if  I'cst  in  old  ai^c.  The  man  who  saxes  has  somelhini^  (o 
wcadierdend  him  a,v;aiiis(  v,aii(  ;  while  (lu'  man  who,sa\es  not 
lias  iiothin.L!;  hetweeii  him  and  hiltei-,  hidni;'  poscrty. 

A  man   may    he  disposed   to  sa\e   money,  and   lay    it  hy    for 
kness  or  forodier  [)nrposes  ;   hut  he  can  not  (1(»  this  unless  his 
life  h'ts  him,  or  li»'lps  him.      A  |irudeiit,  lineal,  thrifty  woman 


M( 


a  ciow'ii  (»f  ;L;lory  to  her  husliaiid.  She  hel|is  him  in  all  ids 
^■(lod  I'esoliitioiis  ;  she  niiiy,  hy  (pdet  ami  '^'cnde  enr(»ura^t!me-nt, 
liriii;;'  out  his   Ix^tler  (|nali(ies  ;  and   hy    her  eNam|»le  she    may 


w 


hieh  are   the   st'eds  of  the 


implant   in    iiim    noble    princi[iles 
liiy;liest  practical  \irtiies. 

The  \\xy\.  Mr.  ()wen,  foinicrly  of  I'.ilsloii  a  i^ood  fiieiid  and 
aihiser  of  \Vdrkin,n~pc.)ple  used  to  (ell  a  story  of  a  man  who 
was  not  an  economis(.,    hut   was  enahled   to  hecoine  so   hy   the 


•xaiintle  of  his   wife.     The  m;in  was  a    calico-[)rin(er 
d  I 


at    M 


m- 


lester,  and  he  was  persu.i'Icd  hy  Ins  wile,  on  li<>r  wt'(idinjL(-<lay 


o  allow    her   two 


Imlf- 


luiits  ot    ale    a    (law,   as   her   share 


III 


radici"   winced  at  the  hai;:;ain,  for,   IIkiuhIi  a  di  inker  himself,  lie 


'  d 


'II 


l\ 


.11 


:ii 


If 


154 


A  IMpfvl  Wl/e. 


[chap.  IX. 


would  li.'ive  })r(^f«!iT(ul  ii  ])orl(H'tly  soIhu"  wit'(\  Thvy  both  worked 
liiird  ;  and  ho,  poor  mau,  was  ,sol(h)iii  out  of  the  public-house  as 
soon  as  tlie  factory  was  closed. 

81u!  had  her  daily  [>iiit,  and  li(%  [)oi*ha|)s,  had  his  two  or  tliroc 
quarts,  and  neitluu"  iut(M'f(U'ed  witli  the  other;  exc(^pt  that,  at 
odd  times,  slie  succeeded,  by  dint  of  one  little  gentle  artitict;  oi- 
siuotlujr,  to  win  hiiu  lionu;  an  liour  or  two  (Nirlier  at  night  ;  ami 
now  and  then,  to  spend  an  entire;  (ncning  in  his  own  house. 
Th(iy  had  beiMi  married  a  year,  and  on  the  morning  '>f  tlicir 
wedding  anniversary,  the  husband  looked  askance  at  ^  neat 
and  comely  peison  with  some  sliadi;  of  I'emorse,  as  lii;  said, 
"  Mary,  we've  had  no  holiday  since  we  were  wcmI  ;  and,  only 
that  I  hav(;  not  a  penny  in  the  world,  we'd  tak(;  a  jaunt  dowu 
to  th(!  \illage  to  see  tliec;  motlicr." 

'•  Wouldst  like  to  go,  Jolin  ("  said  slie,  sol'tly,  bi^twcK'n  a  smile 
and  a  tear,  so  glad  to  JH^ai'  him  s[>eak   so  kindly    -so  like  old 


til 


nes. 


If  (liee'd  like  to  go,  .John,  I'll  stand  treat. 


"Thou  stand  tr(>a,t  !"  said  he,  with  half  a  sneer:   "  hast  got 
fortun,  wench  T 

*'  Nay,"  sa,i<l  she,   "  but  I've  gotten  the  pint  o'  ale." 
"(lotteri  what  ("  said  he. 


a  'V 


Tl 


le 


l»int 


o   ale 


sai( 


1  sli 


John  still  didn't  undt>rsland  hei-.  till  tlu^  faithful  cre.itiu'e 
n>a^dled  down  an  old  sto(d<ing  fn»m  under  a  loose  bi'iid<  u|)  tlie 
cliimnoy,  and  counted  out  her  daily  pint  of  ale  in  the  shajK^  of 
thi'tu!  hundi'ed  and  sixty-tivc^  three[)ences,  I  c.,  foui*  pounds  lour 
shillings  and  si.\|u'nc(;,  and  put  tlicm  intt)  liis  htind,  »!\clainn"ii,i,', 
"  Thou  shalt  hav(;  thee  holiday,  dolin  1" 

Jolm  was  ashamed,  astonished,  conscience-sti'icken,  charmed, 
antl  wouldn't  touch  it.  "Jtasn't  tlue  had  thy  share  t  Then 
I'll  ha'  no  more  !"  he  said.  lie  kept  his  word.  'I'hey  kept  their 
wetlding  day  witli  mother  ;  and  the  wife's  little  capital  was  the 
niudeus  of  a  series  of  frugal  investments,  that  ultimately 
HW(dh'd  out  into  a,  shop,  a.  factory,  war(di(»uses,  a  country-scat, 
carriago,  and,  peidiaps,  a  Liverpool  mayor. 

In  tlie  same  way,  a,  workman  of  c\'en  tlu^  humblest  sort, 
whose  jirosperity  and  rcigulai  ity  of  conduct  show  to  his  hdlow- 
workmen    what    industry,   temi);'raui*e,   manly    tendei'iuv-is,  aad 


CHAP.  IX,] 


A  Man^s  Daily  Life, 


155 


superiority  to  low  and  s<Misnal  ttMiijitation  caji  ctUct,  iii  «Mi(l<'ar- 
iui^  a  homo  which  is  bright  even  amidst  the  gh)om  of  [)ovt'rty — 
sucli  a  mail  does  good  Jis  well  as  the  most  ('loijiKnit  writer  that 
ever  wiote.  It'  theie  were  a  few  imtriarehs  of  the;  ]»(m)j)1(!  such  as 
this,  their  l)em;licial  iulluenee  would  soim  hv.  sensibly  felt  by 
society  at  large.  A  lift;  well  spent  is  worth  any  number  of 
speeches;  for  exam])l(!  is  a  language  ftir  niort^  elocpu-nt  than 
words  :  it  is  instruction  in  action — wisdom  at  work. 

A  man's  (hiily  life  is  the;  Ixsst  t^^st  of  his  moi'al  and  social  statxi. 
T;ik(!  two  nuMi,  for  instance,  both  working  at  the  same  trade 
and  tsuning  the:  same  money  ;  yet  how  different  they  may  b(>  as 
respects  their  actual  condition  !  Tlif  oiu^  looks  a  free  iumu  ;  the 
othei-  a  slav(!.  Tiu*  one  lives  in  a  siuig  cottage  ;  the  other  in  a 
mud  hovel.  Tlu^  one  has  alwjiys  ;i  dei;cnt  coat  to  his  back  ;  the 
other  is  in  rags.  The!  childi'en  of  the  one  are  clean,  well-dressrid, 
and  at  school  ;  tlu;  childi'cn  of  the  other  arc^  dirty,  liltliy,  and 
iil'ten  in  the  gutter.  Tlu^  one  possesses  th«^  ordinary  comforts  of 
lite,  as  well  as  many  of  its  pliN'isui'es  and  conveniiiiices — pt'rhaps 
a  \v<'ll-chosen  lil»rarv  ;  the  other  has  tew  of  tlu^  comforts  of 
lite,  certainly  no  pleasures,  (Uijoyments,  nor  books.  And  y(^t 
tliese  two  men  eai'u  tln^  same  wagt!s.  Wliat  is  tin;  cause  of  the 
tliilbrenco  between  them  i 

It  is  in  this  :  'l^he  owv  man  is  intelligent  and  pru(hMit  ;  the 
otiior  is  the  reverse.  The  one<leni(!s  hinrsclf  for  tht;  benefit  of  his 
ivifc,  his  fainily,  and  his  honu^  ;  the  other  (h'liies  himself  nothing, 
liiit  liv(\s  under  the  tyranny  of  (nil  habits.  The  one  is  a  solu-r 
man,  and  takes  pleasun^  in  making  his  honu^  attractive  and  his 
tiunily  comfortabh! ;  the  other  cares  nothing  for  his  home  and 
tamily,  but  spends  tlu;  greater  part  of  his  (timings  in  the  gin- 
t'iiop  or  tlm  publicdiouse.  'I'he  on<^  man  h)i)ks  u[> ;  tlu^  otln^r 
Itiiiks  down.  The  standard  of  enjoymeiit  t)f  tht^  one  is  high,  and 
••t'tlic  otluM*  low.  Th(^  u\\{\  n\an  likes  liooks,  which  instnustand 
'li'vate  his  mind;  the  other  likes  drink,  which  tends  to  lower  and 
mill  brutalize  him.    Tim  om;  saves  his  money  ;  th(^  otlu'r  wastes  it. 

"  1  say  mate,"  said  one  woi'kman  to  another,  as  they  wi^nt 
lionu;  one  evonin;;  from  their  work,  "  will  you  tidl  me  how  it  i.s 
that  you  contrivo  to  get  on  ^  How  it  is  that  you  manage  to 
iW'tl  and  clothe  your  family  as  you  do,  and  put  nionoy  in  the 


1: 


■\    "'i 


:  <  i.i 


•A 


> 


-;i-ij|| 


'/I 


15() 


The  Two  Worhtien. 


CHAP.  IX. 


>u, 


puniiy  l)nnk   Ix'^^Ldt'S  ;  wliilo  I,  who  Jiave  as  «^ood  \va<;'(^s   as  y( 
and  towel'  cliildi'cMi,  can  ))artdy  make  tlic  ends  uicot  {" 

"Well,    I.  will   tell  you  ;  it  only  consists  in  tliis — in   takiin/ 


cart'.  II 


ftJu 


e  iK'iiiiioi 


I 


"What!     Is  that  all,  Hansom  f 


Y 


rs. 


an* 


la   ^ood  'all'   too.       Not  oiio   in  lit'ty    knows   tli 


Hoi'ict.       Pol'  instau'T,  Jack,  i/nii  ddn't. 


][ 


ow 


I  I      iict's  sec  how  \(»u  iiiak(!  that  out. 


"  Now  yon  ha\(i  asked  my  secret,  I'll  tell  yon  all  about  it. 
But  you  must  not  hi;  oU'eiided  il'  I  speak  [»lain.  First,  I  |)!iy 
nothing  for  my  drink." 

*'  Nothing"' !  Then  you  don't  [tay  your  shot,  hut  sponge  u[m»ii 
yo\ir  uiMijIdiors." 

"  Ne\('i' !       I    drink  watei',    wliirh  costs   nollung 
(htys  ha.veall  Iheir  to-mi»nows,  as  tluM>ld  itioxol)  says.      1  s[»!U'f 
mysell"   son;    iieatls  and   shaky   hands,   and    save!   my   piuuiies. 


Drunl- 


sell 


Di-inI 


vinii'  wiitei'  neithei'  makes  a  man  sick    nor  m  ( 


h!l)t. 


nor  ins 


wii'e  U:  widow.      And  that,  let  me  tell  you,  makes  a, considenililc 
dilVerencii  in  our  oid^'o.      Jt  m.'iv  amount  to  ahoul^  halt"  a  ere 


wii 


a.  weels,  or  se\-eu  hounds  a,  xcar 


'hat 


ie\(Mi  pounds  will  t 


loth 


myself  and    children,    while   you   ari>  nut  at   elbows   and  yeiir 
children  ,i;u  barefoot." 

**  ( 'ome,    come,  that's  ,u<)in;^'  too   far.      I   don't  drink  at   that 
rate.      I  may  take   an  odd   half-[)int  now  and  then  ;   but  IimH'  a 


crown  a  weeiv 


I'ool 


I,    |)OOll 


"  Well,  then,  how  mui'h  did  you  spend  <»n  driidv  last  Saturday 
ni^lit  i     Out  svith  it." 

*•  lii!t  mo  see  :  I  had  a  j»int  with  .Jon(^s  ;  I  think  i  had  aiiotlirr 
with  Davis,    who  is  just  goini;' to  Anstvalia, ;  au<l  then  J    W( 


■lit 


to  tl 


U'  iodjU'e 


J'.ill 


Well,  how  many  glasses  had  you  there  (" 

How  can   I  tell  f      I  fori^^et,.      Ihit  it's  all  stull' and  nousciisi', 


CI 


Oh,  you  can't  tell:  you  don't  know  what  you  s[>ent  .'^  1 
bi'liovo  you.      JUit  that's  tlu!  way  your  itennies  go,  my  hid." 

"Ami  that's  all  your  secret  ("' 

"Yes;  take  care  of  th(!  penny  that/'s  all.  Ih^cause  I  save 
1  have,  when  you  want.      I.t's  sery  sim[)le,  isn't  it  I" 


CHAP.  IX.] 


Injluence  of  the  Wife. 


157 


"  SimpUi,  oil  yes  ;  but  there's  notliing  in  it." 

"  Yes  !  there's  this  in  it :  tluit  it  lias  made  you  ask  me  the 
(juestioii,  liow  I  maiiai>;e  to  kee})  my  family  so  comt'ortahly,  aiul 
put  luoucT  iu  the  jxiiniy  l»aiik,  while  you  witli  tlie  saiiK^  \vaii;(;s, 
can  harely  make  the  ends  meet.  INloiiey  is  iudeju'iuhMia',  au<l 
mo 
so 


ney  is  made  ]>y  putting-  ]»eiuiies  tonctliei'.  ISesides,  I  work 
liard  for  uiiiie- — and  so  <lo  you — tliat  I  eaii't  find  it  in  my 
lieart  to  waste  ;i,  penny  on  (hink,  wlien  I  e.in  ])ut  it  hesicU^  a  few 
other  liai'd-earned  pennies  in  the  liank.  It's  somethimif  for  a 
sore  foot  or  a  rainy  day.  There's  that  in  it,  .lark  ;  and  thei'e's 
comfoi't  also  in  the  tlioun'ht  that,  whatever  m;iy  h;i])j»en  to  me, 
I  needn't  bei;  nor  yo  to  the  woi-k-hotise.  'Die  siixiiii,'  of  the 
penny  makes  me  feel  n.  1V(M'  m;in.  The  man  ;il\v:iys  in  debt,  or 
without  a  j»enny  befoi-ehmid,  is  little  better  thiin  ;i,  slave." 

"  Bid.  it  we  liad  our  rights,  the  [loor  wonld  not  be   so  hardly 


dealt  with 


I  MS  thev  now  :ir(! 


Wliv,  Jat'k,   if  \u\\ 


\\m\ 


\i.)\\v  rights  to-mori'ow.  won 


Id 


\i>\\ 


pat  your  money  l»ack'  int(»  yoiu' jioeket  jUXer  yon  had  s|ient  '\t\ 
— wonld  yonr  rit;hts  <j;i\('  your  ehildren  shoes  and  sloekiuLfs 
when  yon  had  chosen  to  waste  on  beer  what  woidd  have  bonjjfht 
tli(Mn  I  Would  yoni- rii^'hts  make  you  or  your  wife  thi'iftier,  or 
your  lienrth-stone  (leaner  ^  Would  rii«'hls  wash  your  children's 
t'uces,  and  mtMid  the  holes  in  your  clothes  (  No.  no,  fritmd  ! 
(live  us  our  ri<;hts  by  all  means,  but  n';.//ifs  an'  itof  lidhitx,  and 
it's  habits  \\v  want  -  n'ood  haltils.  With  these  we  can  be  free 
lui'U  and  independent  men  iii>ii\  W  we  but  (hstei-nnne  to  be  so. 
Uood-niyht,  .lai'k,  and  mind  my  si^rcit  it's  nothinij;  but  fahhuj 
I'lirr.  of  f/ic  jh'iiiiirs,  and  tli<'  pounds  will  lake  care  of  themsi'lves." 


(«ood-ini;ht 


And  .lack  (urneil  oil"  at  the  lane  end  t 


owari 


liishumltle  and  dirty  cotta^'c,  in  Alain's  ( 'omt.  I  mi^ht  introduce 
yon  to  his  home  ;  but  "home"  it  could  scarc(^ly  be  called.  It 
\V!(s  full  of  sipiidor  and  untidiness,  coni'usion  and  dirty  children, 
wlierc!  aslatterndookinu;  woman  was  scolding'.    Kansom'scottaife, 


on  tl 


K!  contrarv,  ints  a  h(tme 


It 


was  s\\\\<f,  ti'iijf.  and  nea 


t ;  tl 


10 


lu^aith-stoiK!  was  fresh -sanded ;  the  wife,  though  her  hands  were 
t'nil  of  work,   was  ch^an  and  tidy;  and   her  husband,  his  day's 
Work  oNcr,  could  sit  down  with  his  children  about  him,  in  pcaci; 
iiiid  cond'ort. 
10 


1    lU 


!i 


i»6,> 


:h  . 


i  .?i  \ 


\  ■  J- 


l58 


A  Pennij  a  Day. 


[cirAP 


IX. 


The  ch/icf  secret  was  now  rev(>a.lf!(l.  I-vniisoui'.s  secret  about 
tlie  ])enny  was  a  very  good  one,  so  far  as  it  went.  But  he  liad 
not  really  toM  tlu^  whole  truth.  He  could  not  venture  to  tell 
his  I.j^;s  fortunate  conu'ade  that  the  roc^t  of  all  domestic  prosperity, 
the  main-stay  of  nil  donu'stic  comfort  is  the  wife ;  and  KanscjiH'.s 
wife  was  all  that  a  workiui,^-man  could  desire.  Th(M-e  can  bono 
thrift,  nor  economy,  nor  comfort  at  home,  unless  the  wifci  helps; 
itnd  :i  workinif-man's  wife,  more  tlian  iuiy  othei-  man's,  for  she  is 
wif<!,  housekeeper,  luu'se,  Jind  s(^r\ant,  .-lU  in  one.  If  she  be 
thriftless,  jMitting  nu)ney  into  \\vy  hiiiids  is  like  ])oui"ini(  water 
throuL(]i  a  sieve.  Let  her  be  frugal,  and  she  will  make  her  Inane 
a  plac(i  of  comfort,  and  she  will  also  make  her  husl»and's  lile 
haj)[)y,  if  she  do  not  hiy  the  foundation  of  his  i>rosperity  and 
fortun-:. 

One  would  scarcely  e\'])ect  that  for  a  penny  a  day  it  wouM  be 
])ossii)le  to  obtain  anything  valuable.  And  yet  it  may  be  easily 
shown  how  nnnih  a  )»enny  a  day,  caicfully  expended,  might  do 
tt)wa,rds  securing  a  man's  independence,  and  pro\  iding  his  wife 
and  i'amily  against  tlie  future  j)r('ssur(^  of  povci'ty  and  want. 

Take  u[)  a.  prospectus  and  tables  of  a  jn'ovidcnt  society,  in- 
tended for  the  use  of  thos(^  classes  who  ha,ve  a  penny  a  day  to 
spend — -that  is,  nearly  all  the  working-classes  of  the  covnitry. 
It  is  not  nccessiry  to  s|>ecify  any  i)a,rticidar  soi'iety,  becausi^  the 
best  all  ))roceed  upon  tlu;  ^  ime  data  -the  r(^su]ts  of  extensive 
observations  and  expcM'ieiice  of  health  and  sickn(!ss  ;  and  their 
tables  of  vates.  ccrtilied  by  jiublic  actuaries,  are  very  nearly  the 
sanu?.  Now,  looking  at  the  t.d)les  of  tli(!se  life  and  sickness 
assui'ance  socic^ties,  let  us  sei^  what  a  penny  a.  day  can  do 

1.  JA)r  (t  prii.ii.i/  ((  <lin/,  a  man  or  woman  of  tw(Uitv-si.v  yeai's 
of  age  may  secure  tlu^  sum  of  ten  shilling.-;  a  week  payal^lediu-ini,' 
the  time  of  sickness,  for  the  whole  of  life. 

2.  I'^)r  a  pemiji  a  (hti/  (payments  ceasing  at  sixty  years  of 
age),  a  man  or  woman  of  thirty-on(!  years  may  .secure;  the;  sum 
of  tifty  pounds  payal)le  at  death,  wIuMiever  that  evc^nt  may  liap- 
jMUi,  even  tliough  it  should  be  during  tiie  week  or  tlu;  mouth 
after  the  assurance  has  Ikhmi  elfected. 

3.  iA)r  a  jn'tuiif  a  (Utij,  a  young  nian  or  woman  of  fifteen  may 
secui'e  a  sum  of  om^  hundi'ed  [>ovuids,  the  payment  of  the  [)enny 


I. !" 


CHAI'.  IX.] 


Tlui  Power  of  a  Penny. 


159 


a  (lay  coutiimiiiu  (hiiiiii,'  tlic  wliole  of"  life,  but  the  one  Inindred 
pouiuls  1)61111:^  piiyul)l('  wliciu'ver  dc'itli  may  oecur. 

4.  Foi"  a  ppinii/  a  ihtij^  a  youni(  man  or  woman  of  twenty  may 
secure  an  annuity  of  twenty-six  [)oun(l.s  per  annuui.  or  of  ten 
sliillint,'^  per  week  for  tin;  whole  of  life,  after  reaching  the  age 
of  sixty-ti\e. 

5.  For  a  penvji  a  <l<ii) — the  pnyment  commencing  from  tlie 
hirth  of  any  child — a  ])arent  mny  secure  th(>  sum  of  twenty 
pounds,  ]»ayal)l(!  (»n  .such  child's  reaching  the  age  of  fourteen 
years, 

0.  For  (t  j)")nii/  (I  <l'n/,  continued  till  the  child  rcviehes  the  ago 
of  twenty-one  years,  the  sum  of  forty-ti\ c  pounds  may  he  secm-ed, 
to  enable  hira  or  her  to  begin  Itusincss,  (»r  start  houstvkeej)ing. 

7.  For  (I  pontij  a  il(<!/.  a  young  man  or  woman  of  twenty-four 
may  secui'O  the  sum  of  one-hundred  j>()unds,  ]>ayabh'  on  r(>aching 
the  of  sixty,  with  the  I'ight  of  withdrawing  four-fiftlis  of  the 
ainomit  paid  in.  at  any  t-iui<> — the  wlioh^  of  the  paynuMits  being 
l)aid  back  in  event  of  death  occui'riu'^  befor((  the  a'j:e  of  sixtv. 

Such  is  the  power  of  a  pi')!)!!/  n  il«!/.'  Who  would  have 
diought  it  f  Vet  it  is  true,  as  any  one  can  prove  by  looking  at  the 
tables  of  the  best  assui'ance  oDiccs.  Put  the  penny  a  day  in  the 
liauk,  and  it  accinuulai(\s  slowly.  Fven  then*,  howi'vei',  it  is 
vci'v  us(!ful.  I  hit  with  the  assni'a)ic(>  olfue,  it  immediately 
iissunuNs  a  \i\si  power.  A  penny  a  day  i)aid  in  by  the  man  of 
tliiity-ont^  is  worth  sixty  pounds  to  his  wife;  and  family  in  the 
I'veiit  of  his  dying  next  month  or  next  year!  Jt  is  the  cond)in- 
iiig  of  small  s;i\  ings  foi'  [)urposes  oi'  n)utual  assurance,  by  a  large 
inunbei'  of  ]ters(»ns,  that  gives  to  the  ]»enny  its  enormous  powcn*. 

The  eil'eeting  of  a  lite-assurance  by  a  working-man,  for  thi^ 
luMiclit  of  his  wile  and  children,  is  an  enduenlly  uns(>llish  act. 
It  is  a  moi'al  as  well  as  a  I'cligious  transiu-tion.  It  is  "  providing 
tor  those  of  his  own  household."  It  is  taking  the  right  step 
toward  sivuring  the  independence  of  his  family,  after  ho,  tlie 
l»mi(l-winn(>r,  has  been  called  away.  This  right  investment  of 
'/"'  j>i')in!>\s  is  the  best  proof  of  practical  \irtue.  and  of  the  honest 
t'oicthought  and  integrity  of  a  true  man. 

The  late  doseph  llaxcmdah;  was  th(;  constant  fricnid  of  the 
\vorking-pt!oj)le  who  co-operated  with  him  in  the  labors  of  hia 


'!' 


MM 


IGO 


JoHPph  JJaxenddte. 


[chap.  IX. 


life.  H»^  Wiis  ;i  iiniu  of  sti-oii^  coiinuon  sense,  iin<l  miglit  liuvc 
V)fH!n  stylod  the  Franklin  of  lUisinn.ss.  H(i  was  full  of  proverhi.-il 
wisdom,  and  also  fidl  of  })nictical  lielp.  He  was  constantly 
nri^iiii;'  liis  scu'xants  to  lay  l»y  sonietliini^  for  a  rainy  djiy,  or  for 
their  sU[>i»ort  in  old  ain'i^  lie  also  nscd  to  pension  otf  liis  old 
servants  alter  tliey  had  ceasiul  to  be  al>Ie  to  work. 

He  })osted  ti]»  texts  along  his  warohoiises,  so  that  those  who 
rnii  nii^ht  read.  "  Never  d(!spair,"  "  Nothing  withont  labor," 
*'  He  who  spends  all  la^  gets  is  on  the  way  to  b<\ggary)"  "Time 
h)st  e;tn  not  be  regained,"  "  Let  indnstry,  tcniqxM'ance,  and 
economy  be  tln^  habits  of  vonr  lives."  These  texts  wei-e  )»rinted 
in  lai-g(!  type,  so  that  every  passer-by  might  read  tluMU  ;  while 
many  were  able  to  lay  them  to  heart,  and  to  practise  the  advices 
which  they  enjoined. 

On  other  ociasions  Mr.  I>ax(mdah^  wonld  distribute  amonghis 
work  peoph^,  or  desire  to  be  set  n[>  in  his  waiehouses  and  jilaccs 
of  busin(>ss,  Iong«!r  and  moi'<!  general  maxims.  ]le  would  desire 
these  pi'inted  documents  to  be  ))ut  u]>  in  the  otlices  of  the  clerks, 
or  in  the  places  wher(^  men  weic  disposed  to  linger,  or  to  take 
their  meids,  oi-  to  assemble  pre[>aratory  to  work.  "J'hey  were 
iilways  full  of  valuiil)le  a(l\  ice.  We  copy  one  of  them,  on  the 
im]K>rtance  of  pututuality  : 

"  M(^thod  is  the  hingt^  oi'  business  ;  and  there  is  no  method 
without  ]»unctu:dity.  I'unctuidity  is  impoitant,  Ixvause  it  siil»- 
sei'ves  the  |)eac(^  and  good  tem|»ei'  of  a  i'amily.  The  want  of  it 
not  only  iidVinges  on  necessary  duty,  but  sonu^times  excludes 
this  duty.  '^I'he  calnuiess  of  mind  which  it  pi'oduces  is  another 
advantage  of  punctuality.  A  disordeily  man  is  always  in  a  hurry. 
H(^  lias  n(»  time  to  speak  to  you  because  he  is  going  elsewhert^ ; 
n][{\  when  he  gets  there,  he  is  too  late  for  his  business,  or  he 
must  hurry  away  to  another  Itefoi'c  he  can  finish  it.  Punctuality 
gives  weight  to  character.  'Such  a  man  has  wv.ulo.  an  appoint- 
ment; then  I  know  he  will  keep  it.'  .\nd  this  geiuM-ates  punctu- 
ality in  you  :  for,  like  oilier  viitues,  it  |)ropagates  itself  Servants 
and  childi'cn  must  l)e  jiunctual  when  their  leader  is  so.  Ajtpoiiit- 
nients,  indeed,  beconu'  debts.  I  owe  you  }Minctuality  if  I  have 
made  an  appointment  with  you,  and  have  no  right  to  throw  away 
your  tiuM',  if  I  do  my  own." 


CHAP.   IX.] 


Joaoph  Baxendale. 


161 


Some  may  inqiiivf.  "Wlio  was  J(is('[)li  Rjixcmlale  ?"  TTo  was, 
in  tact,  Pickford  ct  Co.,  tlio  name  of  a  firm  known  all  over  VAi.f- 
land,  as  well  as  thron<j;liont  tln^  Continent.  Mr.  {]axen<lal(!  was 
the  son  of  a  physician  at  Lancaster.  He  received  a  ijood 
edneation,  went  into  the  cotton  trade,  and  came  up  to  Ijondon 
to  re})resent  tlu^  lii'm  with  wlii-'h  lu?  was  connected.  A  jteriod 
of  commercial  pressure;  having;  occnrrcMl,  lie  desii-ed  to  leave;  the 
cotton  trade  and  to  enter  upon  some  otliei"  business.  Mi-.  I'ick- 
ford  Jiad  ali'eady  l»ef,'un  the  l)usiness  of  a  carrier,  hut  he  was 
ham]K'red  for  want  of  money.  Mr.  Baxendale  helped  liim  with 
ca])ital,  and.  fin-  a  time  remained  a  sle(>pint,'  partner  ;  lnitfindin<; 
that  the  l)usiness  made;  no  ))roiiress,  principally  for  want  of 
iiiana<.>"ement,  he  tnentually  d(;termined  to  tak(^  the  active  part 
in  woi-king  and  manafj^ing  tlu;  concern. 

He  threw  his  whole  (^ne^ri^ies  into  tlh'  firm  of  Pickford  it  Co. 
He  reorj^anized  tlu;  ay^encies,  and  extended  them  .,hrou<;hout  the 
kinjj;doni.  Ho  ])ut  ilyini^  vans  n])on  th»;  road,  e(|ual  to  our 
expre;ss  trains  ;  and  slow  vans,  etpial  to  our  i^oods  trains.  He 
utilizcnl  the  canals  to  a.  larije  (extent,  ]>uttin^  on  tlyinu;  hoats  be- 
twecin  all  the  lartjer  towns.  Indexed,  tlie  roads  of  tlu;  coimtry 
we're  tluni  so  bad  that  in  certain  seasons  it  was  almost  impossible 
to  convey  merchandize  from  one;  ]»art  of  the  country  to  another. 

Th(5  carryin<,M)n  of  such  an  ini})()i'tant  and  extensive;  business 
re(|uireul  much  e?apita.l,  ijfre'at  ene'rgy,  and  tiist-rate'  ))usiness 
manaijeMne'nt.  The;  he)rse's  ne'cevssary  to  carry  em  the;  traific  were 
incre'ase'el  fre)m  about  tifty,  which  they  were'  in  the  time;  e)f  Pie;k- 
torel,  te)  me)re  than  a  thousand;  for  I'l'lays  of  horse's  we-re- ne'e-e'ssary 
iit  all  the>  ste)ppini,'-plae'e>s  on  the  line'  of  tiatlic,  be'twe'e-n  Lonelon 
and  Manche'ste;r,  be;twe'('n  London  and  l^^xe-tei',  and  be'twe'e'ii 
Londe)n  and  10dinbui'<«li.  A  sliip-buildiny  yard  was  established, 
Avla-re  all  the;  be)ats,  llyinif  and  slow,  rcipiired  te^  e-ari'y  on  the 
busine'ss,  we'i-e;  construe'te;d  at  Mr.   r)axeiidale's  expense. 

Tlu>  cai'rying  busine;ss  re;(pnr('d  a  yi-eat  de'al  of  pe-rsonal  supe'r- 
visie)n.  Only  a  man.  e)f  eh;te'i'mine'd  spirit  and  indomitable'  euer^'y 
c'endd  have  elon<^  it.  He  hael  a  llyint>'  lioat  in  wliicli  lie  I'apidly 
I»asHe;(l  alonjj;  the;  canals,  see'in^  that  tlie  men  weic  at  Ihe-ir  posts, 
that  the;  aa[e'nts  were;  at  work,  and  the;  ti-alUc  eluly  provided  for. 
Ho  did  this  by   night  as  we'll  as  by  elay.      At  ot-he'r  tinie-s,  lu> 


'*   >' 

1 


162 


Roads  and  Railways. 


[chap.  IX. 


would  fly  altJii"^'  tlit;  roads  in  his  .s[>ccijil  travelling-carriage,  always 
paying  the  highest  j)rices  to  tlie  innkee]»ers,  in  onhn-  that  he 
nnght  si'cure  th«^  best  hoises,  and  a\oid  delay  and  loss  ol'  tiiiic. 
He  would  o\  t'vtake  his  vans  and  see  that  his  men  were  sohcr, 
and  that  tlu^y  wen^  well  forwarded  at  tlu;  stations  along  the  road; 
that  their  bhmderltnsses  wtu'e  lojided  (for  highway  robbery  was 
tluMi  one  of  the  lisks  of  travelling  by  road)  ;  tlat  the  agents 
wei'e  doing  theii-dutv  ;  and  that  every  thing  was  in  ju'oper  order. 

.I5esid(;s  o\ertaking  tlie  vans,  he  would  sonu;tinies  travel  by 
a  by-road — for  he  knew  neai'ly  every  road  in  the  country — push 
on,  and  then  tlouble  bank  upon  his  drivers,  who  never  kntiw 
whetlier  he  was  before  or  behind  tlusni  ;  and  thus  general  vigil- 
ance became  the  rule  of  all.  J'y  tlieso  aiul  \arious  other  means 
the  business  of  the  conciu'u  was  admirably  doiu;,  and  tin;  carry- 
ing  trade  of  tin;  country  vvas  biought  to  as  high  a  state  of  per- 
fection as  was  compatible  with  tiie  then  state  of  the  roads  and 
canals. 

When  all  this  liad  lioen  accomplished,  the  disturbing  inlluencc 
of  railways  b(\gan.  "1  see  mischi(?f  in  tlu^se  confounded  iron 
roads,"  >\\\'u\  the  Dnk(^  of  Ibidgewiiter.  JJut  the  time  for  rail- 
ways had  arrived,  and  they  could  not  b(^  post})oned.  The  first 
railroads  were  used  for  the  convc^yance  of  coals  from  the  })its  to 
the  sea-side,  where  they  w(M"e  s]ii})ped  for  London.  Then  it  \v;is 
proposed  that  tliey  should  W.  laid  ibi"  the  conveviniee  of  goods 
from  town  to  town  ;  and  the  largest  tratlic  l»eing  in  Lancashire, 
on(>  of  the  first  railways  was  constructed  between  Li\'erpool  nnd 
Manch(>ster,  from  which  towjis  they  were  afterward  constructed 
in  all  dii'tH'tions  throughout  tlie  country. 

Had  Mr.  Ilaxendale  resisteil  the  nvw  mt-aiis  of  conveyiUicc, 
he  would,  befoi'e  long,  have  been  driven  otf  the  road.  Jiiitlie 
clearly  foi-esaw  the  idtimate  triumph  of  the  railway  syst(nn  ;  and 
he  went  with  it.  instead  of  against  it.  He  relitsved  tlu;  Liver- 
pool and  j\ranchester  Company  of  a  great  d(!al  of  trouble  by 
undertaking  to  managti  their  goods  ti-atlic,  and  by  collecting  and 
delivering  it  at  both  towns.  Then,  wIumi  the  railways  from 
Warrington  to  JUrnn'ngham,  ami  from  JJirmingham  to  liOndoii 
were  projected,  he  gave  evidence  befoi'e  the  committees  of  Par- 
liament in  proof  of  the  estimated  tralUc.      And  wlieii  tlie  linos 


CHAP.  IX.] 


Joseph  Baxendale. 


163 


were  niiido  i;o  traiislbrrcd  the;  ticjods  iVoiu  liis  cjui'viiii;  \an.s  to 
the  railwiiy.  He  tlius  became  a  !L,a"(;at  railway  carrier,  collecting 
and  delivering  goods  in  all  the  cities  and  towns  served  by  the 
railways  which  had  by  that  tinio  becomi;  established. 

He  also  became  a  large  share-holder  in  railways.  His  status 
in  the  Houth-eastern  line  was  so  great  that  he  was  invited  to 
become  chairman  of  the  company.  He  was  instrumental,  in 
conjunction  with  tilt;  late  Sir  William  Cubitt,  in  jnishing  on  the 
line  to  Dover,  But  tlu;  Dover  Hafbor  Doard  being  foiind  too 
stingy  in  giving  accommodation  to  the  ti'athc,  and  too  gr;'.s}>ing  in 
their  charges  for  harbor  dues,  Mr.  Daxendale  at  once  proceeded, 
on  his  own  r«^sponsil)ility,  to  purchase  Folkt'stone  Harbor  as  the 
port  of  tlu;  South-eastern  Company.  He  nt^xt  }>roceeded  to  get 
U})  the  Boulogiu;  and  Amiens  Railway,  which  was  for  the  most 
j)art  constructed  with  English  capital  ;  iind  the  direct  line  from 
London  to  Paris  Avas  thus  com[)leted. 

His  arduous  labors  in  connt^ction  with  his  own  business,  as 
well  as  with  railway  extension,  having  thiown  him  into  ill 
health,  he  went  abroad  for  r(>pose.  While  absent,  a  faction  was 
got  up  in  Liver]»ool  for  the  purpose  of  a]»)K)inting  anothei-  cliair- 
man  in  his  stead  ;  and  thougli  h(!  was  unseated  by  a  trick,  he 
hinistdf  accepted  his  <lismissal  with  }>leasure.  His  sons  were 
now  able  to  hell)  him  in  tlu;  condiict  of  his  business,  though  ho 
continued  to  the  close  of  his  life;  to  take  an  interest  in  every 
thing  that  was  going  on.  ] le  was  neve"  weary  of  well-doing  ; 
he  never  rested  in  giving  his  good  advic(!,  the  results  of  his  large 
experience,  to  the  iissistants,  clerks,  and  working-men  employed 
in  his  various  offices.  We  conclud(^  our  brief  notice  of  his  life 
by  giving  another  of  his  "  Run-and-J'ead  Sermons."  whicli  he 
distributed  ])lentifully  among  his  cniphuirK,  and  had  atKxed  in 
various  ])ortions  of  his  wareliouses.  It  is  entitled  "  (Jood 
Maxims  and  Advi(;e." 

"An  old  servant  of  the  concern  ol)served,  a  short  time  ago, 
that  he  began  life  in  the  employ  of  I'ickford,  upon  low  wag(\s, 
and  that  by  frugality  and  industry  he  had  gained  a  competency. 
His  maxim  was,  nevx'r  to  spend  more;  than  ninepence  out  of 
every  shilling.  Although  this  may  nppeiir  a.  trifle,  recollect  that 
it  is  tive  shillings  in  twenty,  ten  pounds  in  forty. 


I'* 


164 


Bus  i)  I  ems  Max  ims. 


[chap.  IX. 


"Su|»|)()S«^  a.  youii'.'"  man  to  pursue  this  systoin  :  Let  liini  oli 
tain  tlic  lirst  twenty  ]»()un(ls,  add  (>acli  year  ten  ])()unds,  he  will 
at  tlie  end  of  six  yeai's  be  possessed  of  n|)ward  of  one  hundred 
j)ounds.  Jfin  eai-ly  life  tin;  opportunity  is  suli'ered  to  i)ass,  it 
rarely  hai>})cns  that  one  can  save  money  when  more  advanced  in 
years. 

"  The  concern  in  which  we  arcMMiuaufod  has  been  defrauded 
by  lhos(»  MJio  ha\e  for  thirty  yeai's  receive(l  salaries,  t1i(^  sa\'iu!j;s 
from  which,  had  they  followcMl  tlie  plan  that  is  rt^commeuded, 
would  ha.ve  [)laced  them  in  situations  of  comparativ(^  afHuencc  ; 
and  wii  should  now  haxc  stten  them  icspectaldt;  nn'mbers  of 
society. 

"U]»on  industry  and  trui^ality  our  well  doiui;-  depends.  It  is 
not  •>r(!at  talents,  but  steady  application,  tiiat  is  retpiircd. 
There  are  noiu^  of  us  that  may  not  olitain  stations  of  resju'cta- 
bility.  '  (rod  helps  them  that  help  themselves.'  '  lie  that  fol- 
h)ws  ])leasure  inst«^ad  of  business  will  shortly  h-dvv.  no  business 
to  follow.' 

"I  frecpiently  con)i>lnin  of  what  may  be  called  trifles;  Imt 
from  these  arising  fretpu'ntly,  wo  are  at  length  lost  Jjct  each 
attcnid  to  his  respective^  duties  ;  ke(>p  the  a})pointed  hours  and 
never  (h^fertill  to-morrow  what  may  bt^  done  to-day. 

"If  business  is  more  ])ressiug  thai)  usual,  give  a<lditional 
time,  that  youi-  own  accounts  may  not  fall  into  confusion,  and 
that  you  may  not  be  the  means  of  causing  delay  and  ti'ouble  to 
othei's.  i;  oft(;n  hapj)ens  that  the  ]u^gligenc(;  of  individuals 
thi'ows  additi<M.  >1  labor  upon  those  who  are  anxious  for  regu- 
larity. 

"Hiding  or  screen"  '"•  the  faults  or  ei-rors  of  others  is  a  sys- 
tem that  has  prevailed  ai,  1  causiul  much   loss  and  injury — frc- 


cjucntly  to  the  offending  pnity,  always  to  thi?  emp 


)loyer. 
"  Lato  occurrences  lead  m(}  to  draw  vour  attention 


to  tl 


us 


subject :  it  is  im[)ortant  in  ev(M'y  sense,  both  as  regards  yotu- 
public  and  ])rivate stations.     There  is  nothing  more  worthy  of  !i 
man  than  truth  ;  nothing  makes  hiu\  feel  himself  so  desi       '  ' 
as  a  lie.     Kecollect  that  men  act  lies  without  spoakin  a, 


and  that  all  false 


appearances  are  lies 


He,  tluirefore,  who,  seeing  his  omidoyer  injured,  negleci    to 


CHAP.  IX.] 


Bnsini'ss  Maxims. 


1G5 


iTiako  it  known,  is  (>qually  ;.,niil(y  -witli  this  iuldition,  tlmt  lu'  is 
practisinfi;  a  lie.      W;int  of  jinncttialitv  is  a  lit\ 

"  Speak  and  act  oju'iily  on  all  occasions.  Kitojs  will  be  fewer, 
and  lal)or  will  be  decicasivl. 

"  It  seldom  happens  that  we  can  do  any  important  services; 
hat  small  s(M"vices  ai-e  always  in  use.  'fake,  therefore,  mcry 
oppoi'tnnity  of  assisting*  each  other—  yon  are  then  most  etfec- 
tually  servin<(  your  eniployeis,  as  well  as  kccjMii;^'  n[»  a  s|>irit  of 
cordiality  and  li'ood-will  amon^  yourselves. 

"A  _i;ood  (Jhristian  nuist  ])e  a  i;-ood  ser\ant.  A\'h.ite\'er  youi* 
lot  in  life  may  l)e,  ahovi^  all  thin,«fs,  remendKH-  that  '•'Ww  fear  of 
the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.' " 


'  t 


ill 

V  St 


*•< 


li 


ai'i 


(Ml  A  IT  Mil  X, 


MASTi:i;;-;  and  mi;x. 

"  Tlin  sweat  nj'  iml;istr-y  would  dry,  iU'd  die, 
lint  ftir  tin'  end  it  WDrks  to."   -SiiAKsi-KAUt;. 

*'  Mill!  is  ii  slioj)  of  rules,  a  'vcll-trussi'd  pack, 

Whose  every  jiiuccl  uiidciwritcs  a  law."  — (jIkoI!(!K  HKliBKIll'. 

"Care  jireserves  wliat  Industry  ^faius.  He  who  attends  to  liis  business 
diligenty,  l)iit  nof  carerully,  tLiow.s  away  witli  one  liand  what  lu;  jL^atlnrs 
with  tile  other." — Coi.ii.N. 

"Tlie  aequisitioii  oi'  proicity,  tlie  aeeuinuhition  ol"  capital,  is  already 
in  the  jiower  ot  the  better-paid  wi)rkin;^-elass  ;  and  legislation  has  but  lew 
fuither  facilities  to  f^ive,  or  obstaides  to  remove.  Tlieir  savings  an;  Udw 
so  large  that  only  soberei'  habits  and  sounder  sense  are  needed  to  niaki' 
them  indept'Uflent  capitalists  in  less  tiiaii  half  a  lil'e-limo." — \V.  II.  (li;i:(i. 


T7^MPL()YI*iRS  can  do  n.  urcat  dcnl  ttiwnrd  lu-oiiiotiiii;  IniMts 
2J  of  tlifil't,  )>ni(l('iic(',  iunl  .solirirty  lUiioiiLr  tlicif  \v()rk-|)(H)]ile, 
Tli()U,ti;li  tlio  Avoi'kiiig-iiiiiu  tlocs  iu)t  like  to  Ix'  patioiiizcd,  hv  lias 
no  ohjretions  to  lui  liclpt'd.  W(^  lifivc  alfc-tdy  Hcmi  that  iiidi- 
viduals  can  do  nuicli  ;  tlicv  can  cidtivatc  habits  of  (K'onoiny,  and 
hiy  by  a  cci-tain  ])ortioii  of  tlicif  caniinjifs  ioi-  hclj)  in  tiuw  of 
need.  iiut  tlicy  want  cncoufa/^^cnicnt  and  as.sistancc.  Tliev 
want  .syni|)athy  ;  they  \\:u\t  help. 

It'  niaKtcfs  I'ully  understood  the  ininiens(>  anioinit  of  inthicinr 
wliich  tliey  possess,  they  would  extend  tlieii;  sympathy  and  cnii- 
tid(  lice  to  their  workmen,  w  liicli  would  cost  them  so  veiy  little, 
and  prolit  them  so  very  much.  A\'e  know  of  no  instance  wliciv 
Jill  employer  has  displayed  a  concern  for  the  social  well-hciii;' 
and  improvement  oi*  his  worlcnien,  in  which  he  has  not  been  re- 
paid l»y  their  increased  respect  and  zt'al  on  Ids  behalf.  H.»^  may, 
for  insttince,  arnin^-e  that  wao;es  shall  not  be  paid  ho  as  to  drive 
tliem  into  the   market   liitc!  on  Saturday  ni,t;htH,  wduMi  they  aiv 


CHAP.   X.] 


Want  of  Sipiipathif. 


107 


often  under  the  necessity  of  iiiakin,i(  tlicir  weekly  pureluises  iit 
a  ;i,n'eat  (lisjulviUitauje.  Of  course,  AVorlciMcn  wlio  ])ossess  a  little 
store  of  savin<i;s  nn<;lit  make  tlieir  purchases  at  jijreater  advan- 
t!>i;;e  at  any  other  time.  I'he  employer  nii^lit  also  avoid  |>ayin;i; 
wages  in  public-houses,  and  thus  keep  his  workmen  out  of  tlie 
way  of  incurring  an  (^xpcnditurt^  upou  (h-iuk,  that  miglit  prove 
so  hui'tful. 

]>ut  masters  can  do  more  than  this.  Tli(\v  can  aeti\ely  aid 
tlieir  workmeu  in  tlu^  formation  of  pi'udent  haliits  by  establish- 
ing savings-banks  for  nu'U  and  women,  and  penny  banks  for 
lioys  and  girls  ;  by  encouraging  the  formal  ion  of  provident  clubs 
and  building  sociiities,  of  provision  and  clothing  clubs,  and  in 
many  other  ways.  They  might  also  distributee  among  tl.eni, 
without  any  officious  interfei-ence,  good  counsel  as  to  tlie  nianner 
in  which  they  might  make  the  lu'st  use  of  their  wages.  Many 
larg(e  emj)loyers  liave  ali-eady  accomplisbed  niiu-h  practical  good 
by  eneouragitig  the  formation  of  itrovident  institutions — in 
M'liich  they  havc^  lu'vcn-  failed  to  secure  the  resjtect,  and  generally 
the  co-operation  of  their  workmen. 

At  the  sanae  time  there  is  nnich  want  of  sympatliy  between 
niastei'S  and  nu'U.  In  fact,  want  of  sympathy  pei'\  adcs  all  classes 
— the  pooi'er,  the  working,  th«'  middle,  and  the  upper  classes. 
There  are  many  social  gaps  between  them,  wliicli  can  not  yt^t  be 
crossed,  which  can  not  yet  be  unit<'(l.  ''  If]  were  to  be  asked," 
said  .Judge  'I'alfourd,  on  whom  Death  was  at  the  moment  lay-. 
ing  his  han<l,  "what  is  the  great  want  of  hlnglisli  society — to 
mingle  class  with  class -I  would  say,  in  one  word,  the  want  is 
tJif  intiit  of  si/nt/xif/ii/.'^  A  great  truth,  but  not  yet  a)»]>reciated. 
It  is  the  old  truth,  on  which  ( 'hristianity  is  based,  of  "  Lo\(>one 
another" — a  sim|)he  saying,  lait  containing-  within  it  a  («osp«d 
siitlicient  to  renovate  the  world.  Ibit  where  men  are  so  split 
and  divided  into  classes,  and  are  so  tar  remoNccl  ilmt  they  can 
scai'cely  be  sai<l  t»)  know  one  another,  thev  can  not  lia\c  a  due 
social  regard  and  cousi<leration.  much  less  a  genuine  svmitathy 


and 


itlect 


ion.  tor  ea( 


h  oti 


ler 


Charity  can  not  remedy  the  evil.  (Tuing  money,  blankets, 
coals,  and  suchdike  to  the  ]i()or — where  the  spirit  of  sympatliy 
is  wantinjj:-— does  not  amount  to  much.     The  charity  of  nmst  ot 


! i      J,  Hih 


.  ..,u  Ml 


ift 


168  Masters  and  Servants.  fciiAP.  x. 


tlic.  liOrd  iiiid  Lady  l^ountif'uls  l»("j,iiis  with  money,  itnd  riul:; 
tlicrt^  Tlic  t'l'llow-iV't'Iiiif^  is  absent.  TJie  poor  are  not  dealt 
witli  as  it' tliey  Itelonifed  to  tlie  sjinu^  eoinnion  family  of  man,  or 
as  it' the  sana^  human  heart  beat  in  th(!ir  breasts. 

Masters  and  servants  live  in  tla^  sanu'  nnsym[»aihetic  state. 
*'  hjach  for  himself"  is  tlu'ir  nH)tto.  "  I  don't  care  who  sinks, 
so  that  1  swim."  .A  man  at  an  iini  was  roused  from  liis 
sbunber  :  "  Thei'e  is  a  (ire  at  ilie  bottom  of  the  street,"  sai<l  tjic 
waiter.  "  Don't  disturb  ///'•,"  said  the  tra\'eler,  '*  until  the  next 
hous(^  is  burniuif."  An  employer  said  to  his  ''  hands,"  "  You 
try  to  fi[et  all  you  ean  out  of  me,  and  1  try  to  \*vt  all  1  can  out 
of  you."  l*»ut  this  will  ne\'er  do.  'I1it^  man  who  has  any  syni- 
])aihy  in  him  ean  not  allow  sueh  considerations  to  overrule  liis 
bettei'  natui'e.  lie  nuist  see  the  brinhter  sid(^  of  humanity  (iver 
turned  towai'd  him.  "Always  (o  think  th(^  worst,"  said  Lord 
l>olin!j;l)roke,  "  I.  liave  excr  found  (he  mark  of  a  nu-an  spirit  and 
a  base  sotd." 

On  tln^  other  hand,  the  operatiNc  class  consider  their  interests 
to  be  (piit(^  distinct  from  those  of  the  master  class.  They  want 
to  <if«^t  MS  much  for  their  labor  as  possible.  They  want  labor  to 
bo  d(^ar  that  they  may  secui'e  hiyh  ^^an■^'S.  Thus,  therc^  beini,'  no 
nnitual  sympathy  nor  friendly  l"e(  I in^' between  the  two  elass(^s — 
l>ut  only  inonev  considerations  collisions  are'  freipient,  and 
strikes  occur.  iJotli  classes,  backed  l>y  theii'  fellows,  (Uitermiuc 
to  ''  iiyht  it  out,"  and  hence  we  Iuiac  such  destructive  strikes  iis 
those  of  l*i-eston,  N(^wcastK'.  liondon,  and  South  Wales. 

Th(^  'ffyvwi  end  of  both  is  iiain,  worldly  ,u;ain,  which  son\etini('S 
inxolves  a  teri'ible  final  loss.  A  <.'('neral  suspicion  of  e.ach  otlicr 
spi'catls,  and  society  becomes  i-ankeretl  t-o  the  core.  The  remedy 
is  only  to  be  founti  in  the  cherishment  of  a  larijer  (  Mnistiaii  syiu- 
pafhy  an<l  more  i^cnnine  bencMilence.  Thus  oidy  can  thebi'catli 
of  soi'iety  be  sweefcneil  and  Murifie(l.  Mont^v  ,i;ifts  avail  nofliiiiu; 
as  between  rich  and  poor.  Ihdess  lliei'e  is  a  soul  of  n'oodncss, 
and  a.  read  human  fellowship  between  flieni,  th<^  nnschief  and 
tlu^  etn-se  which  the  excellent  .Indue  Talfoiu'd  lamenttMl  with  iiis 
(lyinu;  breath  will  ne\('f  lie  o\crconie. 

Some  alley(!  that  this  want  of  sympailiy  arises,  for  tla^  most 
part,  fi'om  (he  (^vils  of  c(»mpe(ilion.      It  is  "  hear!  less,"  "sellisli," 


CHAP.  X.] 


Christ  1(111  Sijuipathjj, 


160 


iinscliu'vous, 


nuiious, 


nul  so  (HI. 


It 


(I  t 


IS   said  to  i)r()(iii»'( 


iiiis(!iy  iiiid  poverty  to  tlu^  iiiillioii.  It  is  cliar'jfcd  with  loweriiijij 
prices,  or  almost  in  tlu^  same  l)reat]i  witli  raising''  tliem.  ( 'om- 
petitioii  lias  a  l»roa(l  l»ai'k,  and  can  Itear  any  amount  of  lairdens. 

And  yet  there  is  something;"  to  Ite  said  tor  coiii|»etition,  as  well 
:is  ;iu;ainst  it.  [t  is  a  stnnr,u,'le  tliat  must  l»e  admitted.  All  lite 
is  a  stru'^^i^'le.  Ainoni;'  workmen,  com|»etition  is  a  strni(<fle  to 
iKiViince  toward  liiu'her  wanes.  AiiioulC  masters,  to  make  the 
Iiinlicst  jirotits.  Anion^"  svriters,  |»reaehers,  and  |toliticians,  it  is 
!i  strun^u'le  to  Micceed  to  ^ain  ,i;iory,  re]»iitalion.  (»r  income.  Like 
r\erythini,'  human,  it  has  a  mixture  of  evil  in  it.  It*  one  man 
prospers  more  than  others,  or  it  some  classes  of  nu'ii  prosper 
more  than  others,  they  lease  other  (h'.sses  ot  men  liehind  them. 
Not  that  tliey  lea\<'  those  others  worse,  hut  that  (hey  themselves 
iidvance. 

Put  a.  sto|>  to  eompelition.  Miid  you  m-'icly  check  (he  proLfress 
of  individuals  ami  of  classes,     W\ 
\ 


u  iirescrs  e  a  I 


lead 


tiiiilorui  le\(' 


ou  sttM'eotype  society,  and  its  severa!  orders  and  conditions. 
The  moli\('  foi-  euiuladon  is  taken  away,  and  east*',  with  all  its 
iiiischiefs,  is  pei|M'tuated.  Stop  eompeijtion,  and  yoii  slop  the 
strui-'i;!*'  <»f  in(li\iilu;dism.  Wn\  also  stop  (he  advancement  of 
iiiilividnalisiu,  and,  ihroUL'.h  that,  of  society  at   lar^e, 

I'nder  comp5(i(ion.  the  la/y  man  is  put  under  the  necessity  of 
cxcrtim;-  himsell';  and  if  he  will  not  exert  himself,  he  must,  fall 
lii'liiml.  I  f  he  (1(1  not  work,  licit  liei' shall  h(>eat.  My  la/,\  I'rieihl, 
yell  must  not  look  to  me  to  do  my  share  of  the  world's  work  and 
vniirs  too.  \ u\\  mnsi  do  \(>ur  own  fair  share  of  W(trk,  .sa\e 
Vdiir  own  iiiuiiey,  and  not  look  (ti  me  ami  [n  (»(hers  t<»  keep  yoii 
nut  of  (he  poor  house,  'riieie  is  enough  Inr.dl  ;  liu(  do  your  own 
share  of  Work  yon  nius(. 

Success  y'rows  out  of  s(run'ui;lcs  (o  oxcrcnme  dillieiilties.  If 
llicre  were  no  dillicult ies,  (here  w.inid  lie  no  success.  If  tJiere 
were  nothimi;  to  striiy'^le  or  compete  tor,  there  would  lie  nodiini 


ii4'lile\c( 


I.       It 


IS  we 


(hercfore,  (hat   men  shouhl  he  under   the 


iit'ccssily  of  e\ertin<;  themselves.  In  this  necessity  for  exertion 
\vc  fmd  (he  chief  source  of  hum;;n  adwiiicement  the  ad\;inee- 
iiii'iit  of  individuals  as  of  niitions.  I(  li.is  led  to  most,  of  t.Iie 
spleiitlid  meelianical  inventions  and  improvemenlsof  (he  ai^^e,      It 


I'i  i    ' 


Vt, 


7* 


i  I 


!''\ 


170 


What  CapiUd  llopres^nis. 


[CI1A1\  X 


luus  stiimiliitiHl  i\\v.  fsliip-lmildcr,  tlie  mcrcluiiit,  the  iiiauufiifturtM', 
the  machinist,  the  tradesman,  the  skilled  workman.  In  all 
depai'tnients()('])i-()(hu'tive  industry,  itluis  he(>n  the  movinjif  ])()\ver. 
It  has  developed  the  resoniecs  ot"  this  and  ot"  otlu^r  countries — 
tlie  rtjsources  of  the  soil,  and  tlu;  character  and  (jualities  of  the 
men  wlio  dwell  upon  it.  It  seems  to  be  absolut(dy  necessary  for 
the  pui'pos(!  of  .stinndatini!;  t\\v  L,'ro\vth  and  cultui'e  of  ev(!)'v 
indi\  idual.  It  is  deeply  rooted  in  lu.'in,  leading- him  over  to  seek 
alter,  aud  endea\'or  to  I'eali/i',  something'  hi'tter  and  ln,t,du'i'  tliMii 
]i(^  has  yet  attained. 

Of  cours(\  miin  is  much  mori;  than  a  comjx'tini;'  lu'int!;.  Tlnit 
is  only  one  of  liis  cliai'.-u'teri.stics,  and  not  the  liitthcst  oi-  noblest. 
He  has  seiisil)ilities,  sympathies,  and  aspirations,  which  slionid 
in(hu;e  him  to  unite  jiud  co-operate  with  otheis  in  works  for 
the  common  good.  With  unleUered  individualism,  there  may 
and  there  ought  to  l)e  iienehcent  co-operation  for  the  gciieial 
hap[)iness.  ^\len  uiiiy  uuitt^  to  labor,  to  pi'odui-e,  and  to  shiiic 
with  each  othei-  the  Iruils  ol' their  coi'{)oi'at(^  industry.  Jhit  under 
any  circumstances  there  will  bi'  the  instinct  of  comjtetition,  the 
oi»[)ortunities  tor  competition,  and,  though  mixed  with  necessaiy 
evil,  there  will  l>e  th.e  ultimate  advantages  of  comjietition. 

On(^  oi"  the  results  of  industry  Jind  thiift  is  the  accumulation 
of  capit.il.  ('ajtital  represents  the  self-<h'niiil,  tlie  providence, 
and  the  enterprise  of  (he  past,  The  most  snct-essful  at-cumulators 
of  ca[)it.al  have  in  all  times  risen  from  the  ranks  of  labor  itself; 
they  ai'<'  worUing-men  who  have  shot  a,lu\a<l  of  tiudi-  fellows,  and 
who  nt)W  giv((  employment  instciulctf  ri'ceiving  it.  These  persons 
— who  are  not  the  less  working  men  l)e('ause  they  liaNdceased  to 
be  nijinual  laboi'cis- by  creating  and  extenling  the  sphere  of 
productive  industry,  nmst  l>e  ri^garded  as  timong  the  most 
elfectivt^  benefactors  of  the  people,  as  they  un(piestional)ly  iuc 
iimong  the  pj'incipal  souivcs  of  the  power  iind  wealth  of  any 
nation.  Without  the  capital  accumulated  by  their  thrift  during 
many  generit-ions,  the  lot  of  the  artisan  would  be  most  precarious. 


There  is  not  a.  niechanic  but  has  the  use  of  the  mon(!y  of  tl 


le 


master  who  employs    him 


W 


i"n 


(1 


le    nnskilletl 


lal 


(orer  lavs 


down  his  spade,   he  leaAcs  idle  a  cajiital   woith  eight(H'n-pence  ; 
but   svlien  a  skilled  ariisan  uv  me'iianic  Iea\(>s  his  mill  or  his 


CHAl'.  X, 


]VorL)iit)i  and  Emplojjers. 


171 


woi-hslioj),   lie  l(\'iv(>s    i(ll(^  a  capital   of  from   a  liiiiuli'(>(l  to  two 

lniiidn'd  pounds  \wv  man.      Nor  does  the  skilled  workman  run 

any  risk  wliatevci"  as  re^'ards  the  sujus  invested,  thou^^fli  he  virt- 

iilly  shares  the  profits  in  the  sha})e  of  the   waives  j)aid  for  his 

'^J'lie  pi'ofit  whieh  remains  is  the  master's  i-eturn  for  his 

is  well  known,  how(;ver,  that  the 


X)r, 


lal 

iiKinau'ement  and  his  risks 


It 


risks  are  not  always  covered,  as  the  diizftte  in  l»ad  times  abund- 
antly demonstrates. 

The  woi'kmau  in  ijfood  em|iloyment  is  not  liaKie  to  losses  l)y 
liad  debts  ;  he  has  no  ol)sol(te  machinery,  from  time  to  time,  left 
useless  on  his  hands;  .-md  lie  has  no  anxiety  about  findiuija  mai'- 
k(*t  for  ])is  (roods,  nor  tears  respectinfjf  fluctuations  in  the  price  of 
the  raw  i  tterial.  '^he^'.e  aic  important  ad\anta,y;es  in  his  favor, 
which  h''  (ivcs  not  usually  take  into  account.  It  is  true  he  suf- 
f'ci's  if  ti'aih^  is  l)ad,  but  lu^  earns  liii^di  waives  if  it  is  ;^'ood:  he  can 
then  save  money,  if  he  chooses  to  do  so.  He  mav  be  said  to 
participate  in  th(^  aihcrsity  or  jn-osperily  of  his  firm,  but  without 
iiicurrin<>-  any  of  the  liabilities  of  partnei'ship. 

j\rr.  ("arlyh^  has  yuAcn  a  t  urious  account  of  the  i^'rc^at  Kni^lish 
luanufacturer:  "  l*lu^s<»n,  t)f  St.  Dolly  Undel•^hot,  buccaneer-like, 
.says  to  his  men,  'Noltle  spinners,  this  is  the  hundred  thousand 
we  have  i^ained,  wheiciii  1  mean  to  dwell  and  plant  my  vine- 
yards. The  hundreil  thousand  is  mine,  fli(>-three-aiid  si.\|tenc(^ 
daily  was  yours.  Adieu,  noble  spinnei'sl  drink  my  health  with 
this  i^'roat  each,  which  1  m'ive  you  t)vcr  and  above!'" 

Tliis  account  of  the  manufai'turinij;  buccaneer  is  a  picfuret 
•Irawn  l)y  a  man  (»f '(cnius  from  his  imagination.  Thei-i'  are  pi'o- 
liahly  many  readers  who  l>clie\('  the  ])icture  to  l»e  di-awn  from 
tact.     There  mav,  of  course,  be  masti'is  who  are  buccaneers;  but 


icn^  ai'(!  also  masters  who  are  not  ouccancers 


Tl 


leri 


ai'(^   (l!s- 


linnest  manufacturers,  as  tln-re  are  dishonest  literary  nu'U,  dis- 
lionivst  publicans,  dishonest  tradesmen.  I>ut  we  must  belie\e 
tliat  in  )dl  occupatit)nH  honesty  is  tlu^  rule,  and  dishonesty  the 
'Xi'cption.  .\t  all  events,  it  is  better  that  we  should  know  what 
tlic  manufactui'ers  really  .are  from  fart  rather  than  from  fiction. 
iiCt  us  first  take  a  lari^e  manufacturin*,'  tirin,  or,  rathei".  series 
"I' firms,  well  known  in  South  Lancashire.  We  nu'aii  th(M'otton- 
xpinm")!!^  mills  of  tlu^  Messrs.   Ashworth  at  I'la^erton  and  New 


172 


The  Ashioorths, 


[chap.  X. 


Eajifley.  Tlu^y  liiivc  been  in  existciiL-e  iui-  more  than  seventy 
yt^iU's.  They  liaA'e  be^n  repeatedly  enlai-<^^e(),  and  increa.sin*j  ninn- 
b(!i'.s  ()['  \V()rl<-)»('()[)le  liaxc  been  eiiiployed  at  t]n'.  vinitbrin  \va<,'es 
l>aid  tlirouylioiit  tlie  district.  Workjiieii  earn  tVoni  seventeen 
sliiHiiii^^s  to  two  pounds  a  week.  Women  weav<'rs  can  earn 
niueli  as  twenty-one  sliillini^s  a,  wei'k.  Wliei-e  the  parcMits  h;i\( 
ehil(bfc'ii,  the  united  earnings  of  faniih'es  amount  to  as  nnn-h 
from  nne  hundred  and  fitly  to  two  hun(h'ed  pounds  a  year. 

Then,  as  to  what  the  Ashw()rths  hiiAC  (haie  ibr  th(!  benefit  of 
their  woi'lc-peo|)h'.  Sehoolint;;,  hy  means  of  mutual  instruction 
classes,  was  in  operation  froju  the  lii-st;  but  aliont  the  year  182'), 


:l,s 


lis 


when  the  worlcs  were  ^reatlv  en 
d)l 


ilarii'ed, 


id  the  population  was 


consKleraoly   increased,   a   day  sciioui   was  opened    tor  children 


I    f( 


w 


hid 


I  was  used  as  an  e\t'iiinn'  si-iiool  for  vouii^,'  men,  as  well  as 


for  a  Sunday-school.  The  continued  extension  of  the  works  led 
to  an  enl a r,i(( anient  of  tint  school  accommodation;  and  while  thin 
was  beinjLi;  pro\  ided,  arran^cnients  were  ma,de  for  a,  news  room, 
library,  and  for  <lie  pcrl'ormance  of  i>i\iiie  worship  on  Sundays. 
A  (a'icket-nround  was  also  pro\  ided  for  tlie  use  of  yoiinii;  people. 

l"\lis;.,d vinous  were  not  iintVeijuently  e.\|»ressed  that  tln^  /t^d  and 
(^xpenditid'e  incurred  l>y  the  Messrs.  .Vshworth  miiiht  one  day  he 
turned  ;iii,ainst  tliem,  to  llicir  annoyanc(>  and  pecuniary  loss.  Tlic 
prediction  was  realized  only  in  a  sin;.;le  instance.  .V  youuju;  man 
of  (H)nsiderai)le  talent,,  who,  w  hen  a  child,  had  been  remoM'd  to 
thi^  factory  from  a  nciifhliorin:^'  work  house,  mad(^  wry  i-apid  pm 
ii;r«'ss  at  sclKud,  especiallv  in  Arilhnietic;  and  when  a,  strike  of 
th(^  work  ]»c(»ple  occurred  in  IS.'IO,  one  of  the  i;'rea,t  strik**  years. 
In^  became  very  olfifious  as  a,  leader.  The  strike  was  defeated 
by  the  employment  \)\'  new  hands,  and  it  was  attributed  to  llic 
inlluence  of  this  youiiL;'  man  tiiat  the  employed  wer(^  brutally 
assailed  l>y  an  infiiriat-ed  mob,  ami  that  the  windows  of  tlu^scliool- 
room  were  smashed,  and  <»tlier  works  of  destruction  committed. 

The  employers,  ne\crtlieless,  |tursued  their  ori>i;inal  desiyii. 
'Hiey  repaired  the  school  house,  and  endeavored  to  incicase  the 
eHicaey  of  the  teachinii^.  They  Ixdiexcd  that  nothing'  was  bettci- 
(iaiculated  to  iumuon'o  iynoi-ant  infatuation  than  increases!  scho<»l- 
iujUf.  In  a  ifreat  many  instances,  the  heads  of  tln^  fanulies  had 
previously  been  eni!,ay;eil  as  liaiitl  loom  wcasers,  or  in  some  pas- 


f 


■   V. 


CHAP.  X.] 


New  Eagley  Mills. 


173 


toriil  pui'.suit;  ami  it  beciiiiu!  cviilont  that  in  couise  of  time  tlio 
exerme  of  tlieii"  minds  iu  the  details  of  a  m^w  ])ursiut  awaken- 
ed their  intelligenci.',  and  tlieir  gep.'ial  th-nieanoi  indicated  marks 
of  a  higher  (.•idti\atin;i. 

Th(^  New  lvi,i;!ey  Mili.-i  heuij^  situated  in  a  naii'ow  valley,  sev- 
eral miles  IVom  iJolton,  ami  the  })ropeitv  hein;^-  in  th«'  [losscssion 
of  the  ownei's,  they  forbad*'  the  opening'  of  anv  tavern  or  l)eer- 
house  on  the  I'statt;;  so  that  the  district  Ixt-anie  distinguished 
for  the  order  and  sobriety  of  the  inhabitants.  A  man  of  in- 
temperate habits  has  little  ehane(^  of  ren.aining  in  the  Ashworth 
villages,  lie  is  expelh'd,  not  by  the  emj)loyers.  but  liy  the  men 
themselves.  He  must  coni'orm  to  the  sober  habits  of  the  })laee, 
or  decamp  to  somi!  larger  town  v.heKs  his  xiccs  may  be  hidden 
in  the  crowd.  Many  of  the;  [larents  have  e\[)ressed  how  nnich 
gratitication  they  have  felt,  tliat,  by  reason  of  the  isolated  situa- 
tion they  enjoyed  as  a  community,  they  had  become  so  eo}n[>letely 
se[)arated  from  the  corriii)t  inlluences  of  musie-suloons  aiid  driidc- 
shops. 

The  masters  hav(>  added  to  their  other  obligntions  to  the  work- 
people, the  erection  (jf  comfortable  cottages  for  theii-  acc(  .ano- 
dation.  They  are  built  of  stom;,  and  are-two-storied  ;  some  have 
two  uj)per  bei'-rooms,  and  others  have  throe.  (_)n  thci  ground- 
tioor  there  is  a  sitting-i-ooiu,  a  living-room,  and  a  scullery,  with 
a  walled  court-yard  inclosing  the  whole  pri'mis(!s.  Tim  proprie- 
tor pays  the  poor-rates  and  othm*  local  chargijs,  and  th*^  rentals 
of  the  houses  vary  from  two  shillings  and  fourpenet!  to  four 
shillings  an  I  three-[)ence  a  week. 

The  regularity  of  their  employnmnt,  aeeompaniel  with  a  [»ay- 
ment  of  wages  on  Friday  night,  doubtless  [tri^moteil  their  local 
attachment  to  the  place.  Many  of  the  descendants  of  tla;  tirst- 
couKM's  remain  on  tlu^  spot;  their  social  relations  havi;  bei'n  pro- 
moted; inter-marriages  have  been  frei[U(>nt;  and  during  the 
whole  pi^riod  there  has  not  been  a  single  pros(;cution  for  theft. 
The  vvorking-[ieople  hav<!  also  thriven  as  well  as  their  masters, 
(rreat  numbm's  of  tlnMu  an;  known  to  possess  reser\(!d  funds  in 
savings-banks  and  otluu-  de})ositories  for  s.ivings;  and  there  arn 
others  of  tiiem  who  have  investcMl  tludr  money  in  cottage-build- 

...  I-  o 

mgs,  and  in  various  other  ways. 
11 


B);< 


174 


Improved  Work-peoph. 


[chap.  X, 


li 


I! 


But  have  not  the  men  risen  ahove  their  lot  of  lahoiinp,'  sj)in- 
ners?  They  have.  Such  of  tliein  as  possessed  skill,  ability,  and 
the  faculty  of  organization,  have  been  })ronioted  from  the  ranks 
of  laborers,  and  become  mill  managers.  "About  fJih'tij  of  these," 
says  Mr.  Henry  Ash  worth,  "have  been  reckoned  on  the  spin- of 
the  moment,  and  ten  of  them  have  become  business  partners  or 
proprietors  of  mills.  .  .  .  Many  manufacturers,"  adds  Mr,  Ash- 
worth,  "are  to  be  found  who  have  dont^  a  gnnit  deal  to  amelio- 
rate the  condition  of  those  they  have  employed;  and  no  one  will 
doul)t  that  they  have  been  prom[)t(Hl,  not  lyy  hopes  of  gain,  Imt 
by  emotions  of  good-will, 

Manufactin-ers  such  as  these  do  not,  like  Plugson  of  St,  Dolly 
Undershot,  gathei-  up  their  fortunes  and  run  away,  {(Mvvijig  a 
groat  (Mich  to  their  work-peo[)le  to  drink  their  healths.  They  re- 
main with  them  fi'om  generation  to  generation.  The  best  and 
the  noblest  among  them — tlit^  Aslnvorths  of  Turton,  the  Sti'utts 
of  Derbv,  the  Mai-shalls  of  L(ieds,  tlu'  Akrov«ls  of  Halifax,  the 
Brookses  of  Hudderstield,  and  many  othei-s— have  continued  to 
superintend  their  works  for  several  geut^rations.  The  Strutts 
were  the  partnei-s  of  Arkwright,  who  was  almost  the  begimiei- 
of  English  manufacture,  in  fact,  it  is  only  since  Arkwright  took 
out  his  patent  for  the  spinning-machine,  an<l  Watt  took  out  lii.s 
patent  foi-  the  steam-engine,  that  England  has  become  a  manu- 
facturing coinitry. 

When^  wonld  Eugland  liave  been  now,  but  for  the  <Miergy, 
enterprise,  and  j>ublic  spirit  of  our  maiuifactnrers  (  (A)uld  agri- 
culture have  supported  the  ciuitinuons  increase  of  po[)ulatioii ! 
Is  it  not  more  probable  that  this  country  would  have  become 
overnni  by  l)eggars,  or  that  propeity  woidd  liave  been  assailed 
and  tlu^  eonstitntion  upset,  as  was  the  case!  in  Ei-aiu'e.  Itut  tor 
the  extensiv(;  and  remunerative  employment  ailbrded  to  tlic 
laboring-classes  in  the  manufacturing  districts  J  The  steam-engine 
has  imh'ed  proved  the  safety-valve  of  England.  It  enabUsd  tlie 
kingdom  to  hold  its  ground  tirndy  during  tlu;  CV)ntinental  wars; 
and  but  for  it,  and  the  industries  which  it  has  established,  Eii^'- 
land  would  probably  by  this  time  luue  sunk  to  the  condition  of 
a  third  oi*  fourth  rate  ))ower. 

It  is  true,  the  great  manufacturers  have  become  wealthy.    i3ut 


CHAP.    X.] 


Mr.  Lister,  of  Bradford. 


175 


it  would  cortainly  liavc  l>eon  siiiixnljir  if,  M'itli  tlicij-  iiidnstiv, 
energy,  and  powers  ot'org.-miziition,  tliey  had  beeonie  poor  I   Men 
of  tlie  stamp  of  tlie  Strutts,  Ashwortlis.   Marslialls,  and  others, 
flo  not  work  for  wealtli  me)-ely,  thougli  wealth   conies  to  them. 
They  have  not  become  great  becanse  they  were  rich,  but  they 
have  become  rich  because  they  were  great.      Accumulations  of 
wealth  are  the  result  of  exceptional  industry,  organization,  and 
thrift,  rather  than  of  exce[itional  gain.      Adam  Smith  has  said  : 
"It  seldom  happens  that  great  fortunes  are  made  by  any  one  r<'- 
iiularly  established  and  well-known  branch  of  business,  ])ut  in 
consoipience  of  a  long  life  of  industry,  frugalitv,  and  attention." 
P)Ut  it  is  not  always  so.      For  instance,  ]Mr.  List<'r,  of  i'l-adford, 
ivftei'   inventing  the   condting-machine — or   at    least   combining 
the  inventions  (»f  others  into  a  comj)h'te  condting-machine  of  his 
own — procecnledto  invent  a  machine  for  using  up  silk  wast<!  (then 
cast  away  as  useless),  spinning  it  into  silk  of  the  tinest  kind,  an<l 
by  means  of  the  power-loom  to  wcmnc  it  into  velxct  (^f  the  best 
(juality.     The  attempt  had  never  before  been   ma<le  by  any  in- 
ventor; and  it  seemed  to  be  of  insu])erab]e  difhculty.      Mr.  ]>ister 
bad  already  made;  a  foi-tuno  by  the  success  of  his  condting-machine, 
such  as  to  (mabl(>  him  to  retire  from  Itusiness,  and  li\  (^  in  comfort 
for  the  rest  of  his  life,      [hit  urged  by  the  irre|ti-essible  .spii-it  of 
the  in\entor,  he  went  onward  with  his  silk  mafhine.     As  lie  hini- 
sclt'  said,  at  a  recent  meeting  at  Bradford,  "  Tliey  might  .pidge 
liow  hard  he  had  woi-ked  to  con<iner  the  ditliciilties  which  beset 
liini,  when  he  tohl  them  that  foi- twenty  years  he  had  ncNci-been 
ill  bed  at  half-]»ast  Hve  in  the  morning  ;  in  fact,  he  did  imt  tliiuk 
there  was  a  man  in  I'higland  who  had  worked  hardt-r  than  he  had." 
The  most  remarkable  thing  was,  that  he.  threw  away  an  immense 
fortune  before  there  was  any  probability  of  Ids  succ«'eding.    "  He 
had  aluKtst  brought  himself  to  ruin,  tor  lie  was   i;.'5()(),()i)()  out  of 
Itoi'ket  before  he  e\'en  made  a  shilling  by  his  inachiiie  ;   iiuh  ed, 
lit' wrote  otl'a  (piartt'r  of  a  million  as  entirely  lost,  befoic  he  bi^giin 
to  make  up  his  books  agaiii.      Since  then,  his  patent  for  the  manu- 
t'iicture  of  silk  had  turned  out  one  »tf  the  most  successful   of  the 
.lay." 

In  the  park  ]>resented  1)y  ^\v.  J^ister  to  the  ]1(m>])1c  of  Rrad- 
tord,  a  statue  was  recently  (U-ectod  Ijy  public  subscri[»tiun.      It 


»> 


;^M;•^^ 


K'^ 


tv 


■l! 


'■i 


(: '- 


176 


Mr.  Forsto's  Speech. 


[chap.  X. 


\v'a,s  uuvcildl  l)y  the  ]li;:^ht  Hon.  W.  E.  Forstor,  who,  in  elosini,' 
his  speech,  observetl,  '"■  I  (h)ul)t,  at'tei"  ;ill,  wlietluM-  we  an;  cmwi 
heic  to  (h)  lionor  to  Mr.  Liste)'  so  niinh  as  to  do  lioiior  to  our- 
selves. We  wi.sli  to  do  lionor  to  those  workini;'  fiteulties  svliidi 
have  riKule  our  eounti'V  oi"  Mn.Lfland  a  piactiejil,  and  thei-cCore  a 
^'I'ciit  and  ))i(>s|ier<»us,  and  a  jjowcrtul  connt'.'V.  It  is  this  untir- 
inLC,  unresting"  industry  which  .Mi',  iiister  )»osse.sses,  this  jiractical 
understaiidin'f,  tins  (h'leiinination  to  eai'i'v  out  anvobi(;et  whicli 
he  is  eon\  ineed  ouijlit  to  he  eai'iied  out,  and  his  detonninatioii 
to  fear  no  opposition  and  to  caj-e  lor  no  ol)stacle — it  is  these  prac- 
tical faculties  that  ha\("  made  i^^nnland  what  slie  is.  What  is  it 
especially  that  we  are  honoriin;"  I  It  is  the  plu.ck  which  this  man 
has  shown;  it  i;-.  the  teelini;  that,  having,'  to  do  with  the  worsted 
trade,  he  said  to  himself,    •  llc;-e  is  something;'  which  ou,Lfht  to  hi' 


(1 


(lone  ;  I  will  not  rest  until  \  ha\'e  lound  out  liow  it  can  he  done; 
and  ha\in,L';  fou;id  out  how  it  ran  l>e  done,  where  is  the  man  wlio 
shall  stop  my  doin;.!;  it  ("  Now,  it  was  upon  that  principle  that 
he  fou'^ht  his  lon^'  stru,ixi;le  ;  and  so  when  w(!  read  the  stoi'y  of 
his  struy'iiles,  evr'r  since 


IS 


in  thos(!  two  ijreat  invtuitic 


.)ns,  wi' 


fullv  fouiiht  til 


raise   this  statue   to    the    man    who  has   success 

hatlle,  and  ho[ie  that  our  sons  and  the  sons  of  all.  rich  ami  p( 


)or 


ler,  will  coil 


II 


ue  in  at"ter-(hivs  to  admire  it,  not  merely  liecaujsc 


to.u'etl 

it  t^ives  them  the  form  and  features  of  a  rich  and  sncctvssful  man. 
but  because  it  u,i\('s  them  (he  form  ami  features  of  a  man  wliu 
was  endowed  with  industry,  with  intellect,  with  ener^yy,  with 
coura'^e,  with  perses'crance,  who  spared  himself  no  pains  in  lirst 
ascertain iii'j;  the  conditions  of  the  proV'lems  he  had  to  solve,  -xwA 
then  mIiom'  heart  never  fainted.  whos(^  w  ill  ne\'er  relaxed,  in  tic- 
terminiiii;'  to  carry  out  those  conditions." 

(Ireal  men  ai-e  wise  savers,  and  wise  spendei's.  Montesipiicii 
has  said  ol'  Alexander:  •'  He  found  th(^  lirst  means  of  his  pros- 
peritv  and  [)ower  in  the  y'reatness  of  his  jjjenins  ;  the  second,  in 
his  fru;.;ality  and  ])rivate  economy;  and  tlu^  third,  in  his  immciisi' 
lilu'iality  to  accomplish  yreat  olijects.  lie  si)ent  but  little  (i;i 
hi!nse!f ;  but,  for  |)ublic  ])urposes,  his  hand  was  always  open. 
It  was  also  said  of  the  First  Na[)oleon  that  he  was  (;cononnoiii 
lik(^  C'hai'h^ma'jfiie.  because  he  was  nr(\'it  like  ('harlenia;i;ne.  Nn- 
puleoii  was  by  uo  means  a  spendthrift,  except  ill  war;  but  lu' 


ii.P.  X. 

o  o\n- 
\vhi«-li 
•furc  :i 
uiitir- 
•;u't"u-al 
,  Nvhii'li 
iuatiou 
se  \tri»f- 

tiit  is  it 
\\\s  man 
woistctl 
la  to  1>«' 
1)1',  (louc; 
nan  \vli<> 
ij.le  that 
story  "f 
:ious,  wo 
\it;ht  thf 

iiu<l  1»<>«>1" 
bcL-aiw 
ul  man. 
lan  ^vll*| 
o'v,  Nvitli 
s  in  tiiM 
)lvc,  aii'l 

HhI,  in  tit 


SI 


nti's»nnt'ii 

his  i)Vi>- 

contl,  1" 

imiiu'iis*' 

t  Htlh"  t"i 

lys  ()l><'i»" 

coiioinit-'ii 

1-;  butW' 


ClIAK   X.] 


,SVy  7\'fns  Salt. 


1 1  i 


spent  hii'^n'iy  in  accoiiiplishiiii"'  i^rcat  j»ul)lio  uiuh'rtiikiii«,'s.  In 
cases  sudi  as  tlicse.  economy  iind  irenerositv  are  well  conihined. 
Ami  so  it  is  in  the  easels  of  all  men  jiossessed  of  ener<iy,  industry, 
and  i;-re;it  ])o\vers  of  ori^anization. 

It  may  s<  em  out  of  keepinLr  to  (•om])are  Li'rent  pi-odueers  with 
<;i'eat   commanders.      Yet   the    mtiuufacte.rer   often    re<[uires   as 


inucli  coura^x^,  as  nuich  j^enius,  as  nnicli  org.-inizimr  power,  a: 


tl 


10 


wairior, 


lie  one  consK 


lers  h 


low  he  shall  keeji  Jus  operatives  m 
workiii'L!;  ordei* ;  the  othei-  how  he  sh;ill  keep  his  soldiers  in  ti^jit- 
iii;::  order.  I'oth  must  he  men  of  enterpi-ise,  of  boldness.  ,  keen 
oliservation,  and  close  attention  to  details;  and  the  manufacturer, 
from  his  position,  nccfls  to  be  the  more  benevolent  man  of  the 
two.  Viewed  in  this  li,<,dit,  we  re-jjard  Sir  Titus  Salt  not  only  as 
a  (\-t])taiii  (»f  Industry,  but  as  a  Field-marshal  of  Indu'try.  lie 
lias  been  called  the  l*rince  of  Manufacturers. 

Titus  Salt  is  the  son  of  a  Voi'ksire  W!)ol-stai)ler.  In  the  early 
part  of  his  life  lu^  was  a  farmer  near  llradford,  and  his  inclina- 
tion for  a-iricultural  i)ursuits  was  such  that  it  was  thouirht  he 


t] 


would  contiime  to  })urKU(^  tins  vocation.     Ixan*^,  however,  a  part 


ner  witli   Ins 


fatl 


ler  111 


th 


)1-1 


le    wool-husiui'ss. 


aiK 


1   ol 


jservni''' 


that 


iiiaiuifactures  were  rapidly  extendiiiL;  in  the  neii;]di()i'hood,  he 
withdrew  from  the  ])ai"tnershij),  and  commenced  business  at  I)ra<l- 


ford 


IS  a  wool-sianiun 


H( 


e  was  one  of  the  hrst  to  observ<'  tin 


uses  of  alpaca  wool.  Larije  (piantities  of  that  material  wer(^  stored 
at  Liverpool,  im))orted  from  the  I'razils.  Hut  the  wool  found  no 
purchasers,  until  at  leii.uth  Air.  Salt  bou^'ht  a  (puuitity,  and  spun 
it  into  an  entirely  new  fabric.  He  tlieii  proceeded  to  buy*  up  all 
l(-  H  the  al[»aca  that  was  to  be  found  at  Liverpool:  made  arrany-ements 
for  purchasing'  all  that  came  into  the  market  ;  went  on  spinniiu 

'1| 


unaca, ;  and  even 


tualb 


taltlislir'd  the  manufacture.     This  was 


the  foundation  of  J\li".  Salt's  fc/ranie. 

At  length,  after  about  twenty  years'  Labor  as  a  manufacturer. 
Mr.  Salt  thought  (tf  ri^iriu;.;'  from  l>usiness,  and  aii^ain  betakin<^ 
liiinself  to  his  favorite  a^j^ricultural  jtursuits.     lie  intended  to  ri 


tire  on  his  fiftieth  bii-thdav,  but  before  that  t 


ime 


had 


arri\e( 


I 


(liaviuif  live  sons  to  ])rovide  for)  lu'  reversed  his  decision,  and  re- 
solved to  continue  in  business  a  little  lonijfei-,  and  to  remain  at 
the  head  of  the  tirm.      Havinir  come  t(j  this  detei-mination,  lie 


m 

R 

hi^i  ■  1^ 

I 

■'tf 

1 

^J 


!l 


n 


\':l' 


,'  i 

■  ,  ) ! 


It 


i  i 

f    1 


i  i 


'IP 


-t  ri 


178 


Stdta 


ti'e. 


rciiAi'.  X. 


I 


made  U[)  ])is  iiiiud  to  Ivnw  lir.uUbnl.  Tlic  iKUough  wjis  ali-«M(lv 
overcVDwdcd,  uud  he  did  not  like  to  be  a  party  to  increasing  the 
})opulation.  He  looked  altout  I'jr  a  sit<'  suital)le  for  a  nianuf'ae- 
turing  estahlishiiient,  and  at  lengtli  tixed  n[)on  a  larj^e  piece  of 
ground  in  tin'  beautit'id  \aUey  of  the  Aii-e.  An  extension  of  tlic 
Letuls  and  J'l-adfoid  Kailway  was  in  front,  and  tlie  Leeds  and 
Liverpool  Canal  l»(diind  it,  so  that  tht^re  was  every  con\'enienc(3 


for  I) 


(ringing  up  tht^  raw  materials,  and  oi  sending  away  tJie  luaii- 
ufactured  goods.  ( )n  that  spot  Saltaire  was  erected  a  nol)i(' 
monument  of  pi'i\ate  enl:erj)rise,  lil>erality,  and  wisdom. 


It  is  not  necessarv  to  desoibe  Saltaire.     The  buildini's  c( 


)U- 


nected  with  the  new  works  cover  six  and  a  half  acres.  The  priu- 
ci[»al  room  is  fi\ c  hundred  and  tii'ty  feet  long.  Tlu;  weaving-'slu'd 
coNcrs  two  acres.  The  c^)ud>ing-shed  occujties  one  acre.  Kncit- 
thing  is  la.i'gt^,  roomy,  and  substantial.  Tluj  cost  of  constructing 
the  factory,  and  the  dwellings  for  the  work-peopI(%  amounted  to 
uiore  than  a  hundi'ed  and  foity-thousand  [)ounds. 

On  tJie  opening  day,  Mr.  Salt  «line<l  tin"ee:-tliousand  tivt^dnm- 
dreil  pei'sons  in  the  coinl)ing-shed.  At  tln^  dinner  lu;  said  :  ''  1 
cannot  look  arouud  nu^  and  see  this  vast  assemblage  of  friends 
and  work-ptH)ple  without  In'ing  moved.     1  f»;el  gi'eatly  honoicd  by 


th 


presence  t)i  the  nol)leman  at  my  sk 


de.      I 


im  esiuicuillv  (U 


lb 


w 


lighted  at  the  pi'esence  of  my  work-people I  hope  to  dr;\ 

around  me  a  |)o|»nlation  that  w  ill  t'njoy  the  beauties  of  this  neigh- 
borhood, a  [topulation  of  well-paid,  conti'iited,  ha[>)>y  operati\('s. 
I  have  given  instrnctions  to  my  architects  that  nothing  is  to  be 
spart^d  to  rend(M'  the  dwellings  of  the  operatives  a  pattern  to  the 
country;  aiul  if  my  life  is  si)ared  by  Divine  I'l-ovidence,  1  hojio 
to  see  satisfa-'tion,  contentment,  and  happiiu  ss  around  me." 

This  pi-omise  has  been  amply  fuliilled.  Mr.  Salt  has  been  iii- 
fliuniced  throughout  bv  his  sense  of  dutv  and  responsiltilitv. 
When  he  was  ai)[)lied  to  i»y  the  French  Uovernment  for  infonii- 
ation  as  to  his  factory,  he  replied,  "What  has  been  attem]>ted  at 
Saltaire  arose  from  my  own  private  feeling  and  judgment,  with- 
out the  most  I'emoti'  idea  that  it  would  be  made  the  subject  of 
public  interest  anil  iiupiiry."  With  res})ect  to  the  factory  itself, 
little  need  be  said.  Tlu;  object  of  its  construction  is  to  save  time 
in  the  {irocess  of  production.     Not  a  minute  is  lost  in  pushing  tlio 


•HAP.  X.] 


Its  Institvtlons. 


179 


uuiteiial  from  oiut  (It*j);irtin(Mit  to  iinotlicr.  ICvery  horse-powei'  of 
steam  is  madtj  to  do  its  utmost,  every  moment  of  time  is  econo- 
mize<l,  ami  the  piocluctive  ea])al)ilities  of  the  factory  are  thus 
greatly  inercased. 

We  prefer  to  speak  of  tlie  immense  improvement  which  ]\lr. 
Salt,  or  rather  Sii-  Titus  Salt,  has  effected  in  the  physical  an<l 
laoral  condition  of  his  work-peo]»le.  The  ]»lan  of  the  works 
shows  that  Saltairc  lias  heeii  provi(le(l  with  a  church,  a  Wesleyan 
chajx'l,  and  a  literai-y  and  phil()S(^>phical  institution.  Lar,i;e 
si'hools  have  Itecn  provided  for  boys,  gii'ls,  and  infants  ;  with 
ahundanct'  of  jilay-LCround.  For  younij  men  as  well  as  old, 
there  are  a  cri(rket-i,'round,  howliiiii-i^i'een,  antl  cro(|uet  lawn, 
surroundf'd  hy  pleasure  iir(»unds.  There  are  also  a  larjj;e  dinini^- 
I.mH,  baths,  and  wasli  houses,  a  disjtensary,  antl  almshouses  for 
pensiouo's. 

About  thi'ce  tlaaisand  persons  are  employed  in  the  works  ; 
and  sev«Mi  hundred  ami  lifty-six  houses  have  been  erected  for 
theii-  accommodation.  1'he  lents  run  from  two  and  fou)"pence 
to  seven  and  sixjience  a  week,  accoi'diny;  to  the  acconnnodadon. 
Some  of  the  houses  are  used  as  boardingdiouses.  The  rents  in- 
clude rates  and  water-su]>ply.  and  gas  is  sohl  at  a  low  price. 
The  cottages  are  built  of  stone,  lined  with  V)rick-work.  They 
contain  a  [>arlor  (»r  long  room,  a,  kitchen  or  sculh  ry,  a  pantry 
and  cellar,  and  three  bedrooms.  Kach  house  has  a.  ^n*)>arate 
yard,  with  the  usual  oflici's.  The  woi-k-people  are  well  ai»le  to 
]ia,y  the  i-ents.  Single  workmen  earn  from  twenty-four  to 
thirty-hve  shillings  a  week.  A  family,  consisting  of  a  father 
and  six  children,  earn  four  jiounds  four  shillings  ;i  week,  or 
('•|ual  to  the  unite<i  inct)me  of  ovei-  two  hundivd  and  twenty 
pounds  a  yeai-. 

The  condbrtable  houses  ])i'ovided  foi-  the  work-people  have 
awakened  in  them  that  home-feeling  which  has  led  them  to 
ileoorate  their  dwellings  neatly  an<l  tastefidly — a  sure  sign  of 
social  happiness.  Kvej-y  visitor  among  the  poor  knows  how 
such  things  cond)ine  to  prevent  vice  and  disease,  to  elevate  tlie 
moral  tone  of  working-people,  and  to  develope  their  intellectual 
powers.  A  man  in  a  dirty  house,  says  Mr.  Rhind,  the  med- 
ical attendant  at  Saltaire,  is  like  a  beggar  in  miserable  clothing. 


\:l 


:li 


.»  ■ 

:    ! 


I ; 

■  )  .  ■ 


:  I 


!  i 


\  I 


180 


MuHic  and  Sohrieiy. 


[rHAP.  X. 


■  V 


V  I 


I.' 


I 'I' 


1 


lie  soon  ceases  to  have  self-ies[)ect ;  and  when  that  is  gone, 
there  is  but  little  iiope. 

(ireat  attention  is  [>ai(l  in  Saltaire  to  education,  even  of  the 
hif^'her  soi't.  I'hcre  are  day-seliools,  nii^dit-sehools,  mutual-ini- 
provement  classes,  lectures,  and  discussions.  Music — one  of 
the  most  liuinani^iiu;-  of  pleasures — is  one  of  the  most  favorite 
studies.  "  In  almost  (!very  house  in  the  town  some  form  of 
musical  insti-ument  is  found  ;  and,  indeed,  the  choial  and  i,de(> 
societies,  toifethcr  with  the  l)ands,  ha\e  become  household 
names."  Thci-e  is  diic  full  brass  band  for  men,  and  anothei- 
di'um-and-life  band  for  boys;  and  concerts,  vocal  and  instru- 
mental, are  re«i;ularly  jjfiven  by  the  Wdrk-people  in  the  dininn-hall. 
Th(^  bauds  lia\'('  instructors  i)ro\  ided  l)y  th(!  tii'm. 

r.esides  taking'  part  in  the  uiusical  jx'rformances,  a  large; 
nniul)(M'  of  the  skilh.'d  workmen  devote  their  leisure  hours  to 
various  scieiititic  auiuseiuents,  such  as  mitural  history,  taxider- 
my, the  making  of  i)hil()sophi('al  instrunu'uts.  siu'li  as  aii'-pmuj)s, 
nuxlels  of  woi'king  machinery,  steam-engines,  and  aiticles  of  do- 
nu'stic  comfort,  whilt;  some  have  e\en  manufactured  organs  and 
othei-  musii-al  instiiiments. 

There;  is  no  driuking-house  in  Saltaiin*  ;  so  that  the  vices  and 
diseases  assoedated  with  drunkenness  arc;  excluded  fi-om  the  lo- 
cality. The  diseases  |»eculiar  to  poverty  are  also  unknown  iu 
Saltaire.  iO\t'iv  thing  is  attended  to — (Irainage.  cleansing,  and 
ventilation.  There  are  baths  of  all  kinds — plunge-baths,  warm 
baths,  Turkish  baths,  and  douche  baths  ;  and  the  wash-house,  to 
enaltli;  tlu;  women  to  wash  their  clothes  away  from  their  cot- 
tages, is  a  great  accommodation — inasmuch  as  indoor  washing  is 
most  pernicious,  and  a  I'ruitful  source  of  disease,  especiall}'  to  the 
young. 

The  workpeople  ai'c  also  thrifty.  They  invest  their  savings 
in  tlu;  jMMiny-baidc  and  sa\iugs-bank  ;  whih>  others  invest  in 
various  building  societies,  gas  companies,  jind  other  lucrative 
umleitakiugs.  In  ftct.  they  seem  ♦<•  l)e  among  the  most  fa\'orcil 
of  hinuan  beings.  With  every  con\cnience  and  necessity,  tis 
widl  as  (;v(M'y  j»roper  ))lea.sure  ju'ovided  for  them  ;  with  comibr- 
t.i,!>le  homes,  and  vwvy  inducement  to  slay  at  home  ;  with  tish 
ing-clubs,  boating  clubs,    and  cricket-clubs  ;  with   school-rooni.s, 


VL  'V, 


CHAP.  X. 


Mr.  Akroyd,  //n/ifia 


ISl 


literary  instiliitioiis,  Icchu'c-liall,  luuscniin,  aiul  class-i-ot)ins, 
established  in  tlieir  midst,  and.  to  crown  all,  with  a  boautifnl 
t('ni])le  for  the  worshij)  of  ( Jod — there  is  no  wonder  that  Saltaire 
lias  ol)taine(l  a.  name,  and  (hat  Sir  Titus  Salt  has  established  a 
n'i>utatiou  amoni;  his  fellow  men. 

There  arc^  larye  nnndters  of  em]>loy(M's  who  treat  tlnnr  work- 
people (juite  as  ijeneiously,  tliouudi  not  in  such  a  i>iine(dy  man- 
ner, as  Sir  Titus  Salt.  They  ]»ay  the  nnifoini  rate  of  wayes  ; 
help   and  (>neoura,i;e   the  enijih)yed   to  economize  their   surplus 


t'iU'nm'fs  ;  es 


tal.l 


isli    sasimrs 


-l)ank 


ani 


hcniiv    0;| 


nks   foi'   tl 


leir 


use;  assist  tiiem  in  tiie  formation  of  eoupei'atixe  associations  foi 
the  purchase  of  pure  food  at  a  cheapei-  rate  ;   laiild  healthy  eot- 


taii'es 


foi-  tl 


leii"  acc» 


)mm()dation  ;  <'rect   schools  for  the  education 


of  tli(Mr  children  ;  and  assist  them    in  every  method  that  is  cal- 
culated to  promote  their  moral  and  social  im])rovemcnt. 

Mr.  Kdwai'd  Akn)yd,  foi-merly  M.T.  I'oi-  Halifax,  is  another 
)iianufactui'er  who  has  exercised  t;reat  inllueiice  throe.ifhout  ^'ork- 
sliire,  by  Ids  euco(n'a<iement  of  habits  of  thrift  amoni;'  workinj^'- 
|)(()|  ',!.  In  his  own  district,  at  ('opl(>y  and  Haley  Hill,  near 
Halifax,  he  has  l)uil(  luimei'ous  excellent  cott.'iijfes  for  his  woi'k- 
inen,  and  eneonrai^ed  them  to  build  iheii  own  houses  by  invest- 
iiiij:  their  sjtare  eainini.'s  in  buildin^-elubs.  He  has  establishe<l 
co-operative  clidis,  to  enable  the  me\i  to  purchase  food  and  cloth- 
\\\>f  at  cost-price.  He  has  built  excellent  schools  at  his  own  ex- 
jicnse,  and  |)ro\ided  them  with  a  ]iaid  stall' ot' teachers.      He  has 

(Sir 


litiilt   and  endowed   the    verv  fnie   chin<'h   of 


Soul 


(Jilltert  Scott,  architect),  to  svhicli  a  lar^'e  distrii-t,  inclusive  of 
till'  works,  has  been  nssin;ii(>(|.  He  lias  pro\  ided  t'or  his  work- 
|i('i)ple,  iioth  at  Hale;  h'ii!  and  ( 'opley,  a  literary  and  licienlifie 
society,  a  nnitual  iiripi«».ci.ient  society,  a  working-men's  library 
(to  which  he  has  presented  more  than  li\f  lliousmid  books),  a. 
woi'kini^'-nien's  clul)  and  news  room,  a  choral  sociciy.  supplied 
with  an  excellent,  libinry  ol'  music;  a  recreation  clid>,  provided 
with  a.  bowlini,'-;a;reen  ;  and  a  cricket  ,y:ronnd.  with  (pioits,  and 
V'yiiiiiastie  a]»paiattis.  Mr.  AI<fo\d  has  also  allottcil  a  larire  field 
tn  his  workmen,  dividiiijir  it  into  small  i/ardens  vai'y''i<r  from  a 
liiuidred  to  two  hundred  an*l  Ibrtv  sipiare  yards  'aeii.  The 
small  rent  ehariied  ibr  each  |»lot  is  distributed  in  pi'i/es  gixcn  at 


^U 


182 


Yorlcshire  Penny  Bank, 


('HAP.   X. 


ail  aiiniijil  ilowcr-.-iliow  lu'ld  in  liis  <^ri»iiii(ls,  for  tlio  best  i^TdWcrs 
of  flowers,  jtljiiits.  aiitl  \('Lfi't:il>l»'S.  Hence  the  Haley  Hill  Hor- 
ticiiltiirai  and  Floral  Society,  one  of  the;  most  tlii'iviiif,'  institu- 
tions of  the  kind  in  the  nei^;hli<trhood.  In  short,  Mr.  Aicrovd 
has  done  e\erythin,i;  tiiat  a  wise  and  conscientions  master  could 
have  lioiie  tor  (he  |>nr|»ose  of  proinotinic  the  moral  and  spiritnal 
welfare  ot'  the  fnnr  thousand  |»ersons  eniphncd  in  his  manufai- 
tories.  who  haxc  lieen  \  iitnallv  committed  to  his  charj^e, 

Ihit  although  Mr.  Aki'oyd  has  done  so  mnch  as  a  master  lor 
(he  men  and  wnnieii  em|i|n\ed  l>y  him,  he  has  perhaps  done  stiil 
more  as  a  piddii*  Itenejiictdr  iiv  j'stalilishiny  the  N'oikshire  P-nits 
iiank  Wn-  Sa\in,;4s.  ,\s  early  as  the  year  IS.'»l!,  Mr.  .\kroyd  in 
stitnted  a  sa\  inn's  hank  to  eiialtlc  his  work  people  to  deposil  sums 
of  from  one  penn\  upward.  The  system  was  lonnd  (<»  work  so 
\\(dl,  and  (i»  have  su<li  a  lieMetiei.il  elfeci  in  making'  |»eopje  pio 
\  ident.  thai  he  rdiiceised  lli<'  idea  of  exlentlin^'  its  operations 
thrun,i;iiuut  I  he  W'cit  iJidinn  "f  N'lakshiie.  Ilasin^'  olilained 
(he  cooperation  of  several  inllnential  /gentlemen,  (he  sidienie  was 
started  in  1S"»I'».  and  an  Act  nf  rarliament  wasolitained  foi- con- 
stituting (he  \'orkshire   I'ennv   Savings  hank  as  it  now  exists. 

.Mr.     .\ki(iyd    has    recendy    furnished    :in    "  I  n(roduct  ion"    te 
the  nairat  i  ve  of  thi'  N'orkshire   Penny   15a  nk.  from  wliieh  \\ec\ 
tract  the  following!,'  |»assa^e  : 

''The    way    liy   which    thouirhts.  or  chaiice   su^^csl  ions,  enter 
into  (he   minds  of  men.    is  soiuelimes   passiuLi;  st,ran,LC» 


'I'l 


lev 


may  lie  the  oll'spriuii'  "f  wayward  fancv  ;  oi'  IJiey  may  Ite  tlic 
whis|terin'.;s  from  a  higher  source,  To  (he  lat(ei'  cause  I  am 
williuLf  to  attrilaite  the  idea  which  Hashed  across  my  ndnd  dar 
intf  (he  present  year,  to  '/ive  |o  (he  pulilic  soinethini;'  heyond  llic 
hare  outline  of  the  schiMue.  in    which,  for   vears.  man\  of  tliciii 


have  taken  a  warm  persona 


I  inti 


•rest, 


••  It  occniM'cd  in  (his  wise:  When  in  (i>wii.  I  occasionallv  at- 
tended, during-  lien(.  the  services  at  Whilchall  ('hapid.  for  the 
sake  of  hearing  a  Lenten  sei-nion  preai-hcd  hy  one  of  Her  Ma- 
jesty's chaplains.  (  Mie  remarkahle  sermon  of  the  series  was  y\v- 
liNered  liy  the  |{ev.  ('liarles  K  iuysh-v .  (Mi  tin'  1-th  of  March,  oil 


nil 


hidialf  (»f  the   Su|iplemeii(al    Ladies'  Association   of  the    Loild 
Soiietv  of   Parochial  .Mission  \\ Omen.      In  (he  sketch  whicii  tli 


p.  X. 


CUAl'.    X. 


Ot'i(j!n   <i/'  */n'    /iiiit/,-. 


183 


H 


■rs  H  jirciu-iH'r  ^iiNc  ot"  this  rxcclicii',  ih.^tittitioii,  lie  irlfiri'l  t.t  n  liook 

or-  I  entitled   '  Kast  ami  West,'  in   wliirli  tlic  Itnirlirs  dciivtMl  l»y  tlic 

stitu-  H  LoiuloM  |)()(M' from   tlic   assDciatinn  art-  clcaily  set    foUli;   ImiI    lie 

cvoytl  ■  dwelt  i-liiclly  on   tlic   s\i<lt'  M|iaialioii   wliirli   (li\  idc;   ridi    irom 

coulii  H  |i()or,  class  iVom   class.  In    London;    and   on   (lie  <lanucis   which 

fitnal  B  (lireaten   socict\-  tVom  ihis  cause,  as  was  recent  iy  c\eni|»litieil    in 


\\\\i 


V  still 
*"iinv 
vd 


ni- 


sums 
»i'k  so 
e  |i|tt 
atitnis 
lainol 
le  was 


ists. 
ill"    (< 


we  e \ 


icn  lilt 


111 


l< 


ranee.      .Sm-h  was  (  he  ini|tit 


ssii.'ii  iiiailc  niton  mc 


l.v  tl 


le  sermon. 


that,  Itet'ore  many  days  had  cla|ised.   I   had  |inrc!ce.ed    "  i'lnst  am 


r  tor       ■     West.'  an<l  ;.>iveii  (he  liook  a  caicrnl  |icriisal. 


h'rom  |»revioiis  oliserx  at  ion.  I  had  liccii  struck  uitli  the  sad 
contrast  hetwccii  the  lii\iirions  li\es  of  those  who  reside  at  (he 
West  end  i»f  London,  and  the  stiiini^lc  for  a  hard,  wretched  e\- 
isleiice,  which  (he  crowded  poor  ;;(  the  Mast,  or  in  close  jairlieiis 
elsewhere,  a!'e  ol»liy-cd  to  maintain  until  death  closes  I  he  scene. 
How     t(»    iiridiie   over    the   wide    cha^lii    ilileix  euiii^    lietweeii  (he 

li'. 


c\trei!ies  of    lii^h    and    low    in    stieiety.    without    injury   (o  s< 


res 


|»ect  on    either    side,   was   the    liU/./linu'   (jUestioii,  the    |i|dli|em 


lie    sol\('t|.       \'et.    t 


roiii    the    admiralilc    iiitro*luct  ion    to    (Ins 


r  coll       ■     \-.\i    .  sefiil    little  work.    I>y  the  ( 'ountess   SpeiHcr.   it   a|»|H'ared 
tliiii  a  lad\   of  hiyh  rink,  and    her  iiolile minded   assticiates,  had 


III    some    measure    .solved    (he    |iiolileiii.    and     Inidiicd    < 
cliasm. 


>ver    (1 


"  Hence   I    was  led  lorellect   how   mmh  easier  it   is  to  discharge 

enter      ■     diir  duty  to  oe.r  llei^h)lors,  and  to  i'ullil  I  he  leadiiiL!  o1)ie<-(  of  (he 

Tlicv      H     !';irocliial    Mission    Women    .\sso(  iadon.    to    •  helji   the   poor   (o 

e   the      H     lic||)  ( hemselv  es'  in  |iro\iiici;d    (owns  and  in    lliecoundy,  where 

I    am      ■     ue  are  personally  ac(pMiiile(|    \>iili   each  other.  (Iian   in  London, 

d  tliir      H     where   wc  do   not    know    our   next  door   neii^hlior,       /'c  //<•//'  //>>• 

indllic      H     jiixir   ti>  hill'   tin  iiisi'lri\'<    is   (h"   canliiial    principle   »»f  the    ^'(>rk- 

liciii      ■     "hire   reiinv    itaiik." 

The  Imsiness  tif  I  he  liaiik  coiiiineiiceil  on   ihe    |;.|   of  Ma\.  1  S.M). 
div  :it       H     At    the  end  of   (he   year,  \)lieii    the   liaiik    had   Iteen   in  operation 
■^I'Xt'ii  niondis,  (weii(y  lour  liranches  hail  heen  opened.      It   went 
nil  increasinjLj  in  the  niimlier  of  KiMiiches  .and  depositors,  and  in 


or  till' 

er  .Ma 

vas  dc      H    the  amounts  deposited.      In    1^7  1.  .iliont  two  hiinilred  and  fifty 

irh.  oil     H     lilaiiclies  had  lieeli  estillilished,   and    the  amount    of  investments 

,ond<)ii     9    ill  the  names  of  trustees  had  reacln  d  nearl\   four  hiiiidied  thou 


s;il 


lid  jKHinds. 


184 


llov)  to  If'lp  ihi'  Vuor. 


[CIIA1> 


Th(!  Yorksliiic^  Pniuy  l>iiiik  docs  not  intcrrcre  M'itli  tlu;  [»ost- 
ofiicc^  Siiviiiys-l):ink.  It  liiis  w  speciul  finu'tion,  that  oi'  tcju'liiiii,' 
tlic  yoiiiiL,'  t)t"  citlicr  sex  i}ti'  ii;ih]i  uf  Mininj.  ft  is  ulso  couvciiit'iit 
to  tli(!  aihilt  \vork(  r  as  a  coiiNcuiciit  rcsccptach'  for  liis  savliiy[.s. 
Many  )ia\f^  \wv\\  iinluccd  to  saAc,  in  constMHU'JK'c  of  the:  l)anks 
liavin'j:  liccn  l»roii;i]il  almost  (otlicir  scrv  doors.    One  of  the  most 


banl' 


romarkaMc  fa<  is  connccltMl  with  the  histoiy  of  ponny  i)anus  is 
the  syiMiiathctic  inlhiciicc  oC  jiixcnih'  tlirift  u)»on  ))at<'rnal  I'cck- 
h'ssncss  and  intciiijx'rancc  Tlic  fart  is  well  worthy  tlu*  consid- 
ci'ation  of  tcnipciancc  advocates,  who  wouh]  prohahly  effect  iinicli 
fji'eater  practical  Ljood  hy  enahlini;'  workin<,'-j(eo}»h!  to  sa\('  their 
money  in  the  pennv  hanks,  than  \\\  aiiv  speeeli-makinjjf  aireiicv. 
Tak*',  for  instance.  (h<'  toIl(»win^-  ilhistiations  fi-om  Mr.  Akroyd's 
narrativt'  : 


\ 


n  aetnarv  savs 


.\II  the  juNt'nih- th'|tositors  seem  inclined 
to  take  care  of  their  pence  \\\  depctsitinu'  iliem  in  tin*  hank;  and 
the  <>;rown-n|»  people  lia\t'  Itecome  of  tlie  same  tui'ii  of  minch 
rather  than  carr\'  (heir  h)ose  money  to  the  i»nl>Iicdions<',  oi- spend 
it  foolisldy.  Some  factoi-y  oj»erati\t'S  lia\t'  saved  snlhcient  to  hiiy 
stock  and  commence  farmiiiLf." 

Another  actuary  says:  "  .\  (hiinken  father,  hein^  shamed  out 
of  his  drunkenness  hy  the  deposits  «»f  his  cliildren,  now  deposits 
lialf  a  crown  a  we(d<  in  (he  l)nnk.  .\  notoriously  had  man.  a 
collier,  Ix'canie  a  regular  depositor  himself,  as  v'(dl  as  depositin;.,' 
money  in  the  name  of  his  child;  all  his  spare  money  haviui,'  ]trc- 
viously  heen  speut  in  drink.  h'roni  the  date  of  his  heufinninn'  le 
saNc,  n  pcicept ilde  improxeujent  took  jtlace  in  his  conduct  ami 
I'liar.actei'.     I  u  another  case,  two  i)oys  picNuiled  upon  their  father. 


also  a  collier,  to  allow  them  t(»  deposit  a  shi 


llini,^ 


I  weidv,  untn 


th(\V  liad  saved  suthcient   to  huy  thei  iS'Incs  each  a  new  suit  •>(' 
clothes.      I'.efoi'c  then,  all  (heii"  father's  earniiiirs,  as  wtdl  as  tiieir 


own, 


had  I. 


■en  spent    i 


M    ( 


Irink 


,\n  actuary  of  .'inollier  lu'anch  says  he  has  seen  latlcrs  ami 
modiers.  who  ha.c  heen  <lrunkai-ds,  send  tjieir  children  widi 
money  (o  the  hank.  lie  sjiys;  *'  My  heart  was  math'  to  rejoice 
when  I  saw  ;i,  hoy,  who  nexcr  li.ad  a  suit,  of  new  elodies  in  Ids 
life,  draw  out  iiis  money,  and  in  h's:s  tliaii  two  houi's  relnrn  well 
clad,  to  take  his  plaee  in  tie  scho(d  to  practicu  Hin;;(injLj  for<Iood 


CHAP.  X.] 


Drunkemiess  put  Dorvn. 


185 


'6  < 
3  ' 


Friday."  At  tho  mtH'ting  of  tlic  "IJand  of  I!o|k'"  oii  (ioo<l- 
Frid.-iy,  ho  uskfjd  tli<i  jKiicuts  iiiid  cluldrcii  to  .sii^itifv,  Jtv  Iioldiiij^ 
up  tlicii"  liands,  wlu'tlicr  or  iiut  the  luiuk  liad  hern  ItciirtiiMMl  to 
tlit'in  ;  Nvlicn  inaii\'  hands  were  instaiillv  raist'd,  one  i»oof  iiiotlicr 
I'Xelaimiii;^',   "I  will   pui  ii)»  liolh  my  hands  I'oi'  my  two  Itairns  I" 

"A  ujincr,  the  father  of  a  t'atiiily.  reclaimed  fmni  drimkeiincss, 
h;i\(m1  liis  money  in  the  Iiank  u'ltil,  with  the  aid  of  a  loan  from  a, 
hinidinij;  society,  lie  ItiiiJL  l.vo  houses  al  a  cost  u|'  loin-  hnndi'ed 

aids.     'Vhv  hank  has  licen  to  minv  itettiiit^  what  ih"  hi\c  is  t(» 


|)OI 


the  l)e(!  -a  kind  of  repository ;  an<l  wla-n  the  wintry  days  <d' 
sickness  or  a<l\('rsity  licfail  theui,  An-y  have  then  the  Itank'to 
llco  to  for  succor." 


A 


missionaiv  savs 


I  met    a   man   and   his   wit"c  alioul    two 


years  a,ijj(»  -  d»otli   diiiid-;.      I  u'ot    them   to  siL;ii    the   pledije,   and 

r  hank.      The  paw  nltroker 


SI 


ui-e  tht^n  to  in\('st  t  heii- uiiineN   in  on 


liad  jLjut  the  ,!;;reatei'  part  of  their  i''.)ods  :  lnit  i  am  liippy  to  .say 
that  they  ha,ve  yot  all  tin;  articles  out  of  pawn,  and  can  liriny'  a 
little  money  .almost  cNcrv  week  to  iJic  hanl^  ;  and  when  putting' 
in  the  mone\',   the   man    sa,\stlial  it  islietter  than    takiii'f  it  to 


th 


le  |»ultlic  house 


Tl 


leH'    home  Is  now 


a  \  er\'   coiufortdde  one 


A  dr'unkard  one  ni;;lii  came  to  the  li.tnk,   .iiid,   llinyin.Lf  down 


a  sin 


llin;,'  { 


oi'  a  start,  sni 


1,    "Tl 


lere 


hat    is    I  he    iirice   of  six 


pints  of  heer  ;  l»ut  I  prounse  the  landlords  that  the\  shan't  have 
as  much  of  my  iiioney  as  they  iiave  had."  This  man  has  Uecoiuo 
s()l)er  and  continues  a  i"eiifular  depositor. 


I 


n  anolhi>r  liank,  a  man  w  h 


II  1 1 ,  > ; 


Ik ni  a  |-e<'kless  and  desner- 


1  (U 


at(^  ft'llow  was  induced  li\  his  wit'e  to  depo-it  a  lew  coppi-rs  in 
the  hank.  lie  ilid  so,  anil  his  weekly  deposits  inei'cased  ; 
while  at  tin'  same  linu'  his  \  isits  [o  the  |iulilic  house  decreased, 
in  th(!  course  of  a  short  time  he  li.ad  a  res])ect.altle  h.ilance  to 
his  credit  ;  and  this  iinluced    hiiii  to  I  ike  a    share   in  a   huildim,' 


soci((tv,  and  then  a  second  share 


Afli 


mi  iiiuiiil;'  Id  pay  upon 


these  shares  for  some  time,  he  puri'has"d  ji  pici-i  of  land,  u|iim 
wliich  he  liiiilt  two  hi)U.ses.      (  )ne   o|"  these    lie   occupies  himself, 

and  the  other   he   lets.      iJesides   this,    he   is   now    ;i    icsj t.ilile 

tradesman.  lia\inLf  two  or  three  joiirm  ymen  and  an  apprentien 
WDi'kinj;  for  him.  II''  is  soImi' .luij  steudv.  and  m"ch  respet'ted 
li\  his  friends  and  neii>-hl)ors. 


1^1 


'\ 


1 

:i 


i-'i 


186 


"  Childish  Workr 


[chap.  X. 


;     i 

I 


Many  othnu  ca.sos  of  tho  same  kind  nii^ht  bo  niontioned.  In 
one  case,  a  boy  saM'd  siitiicimt  iiioncy  to  buy  u  snitot' I'lutlios 
foi"  Ill's  tatluM',  who  liad  spont  all  liis  carniimf.s  in  (bink,  and  ic 
duc(Ml  liiniscH"  and  family  t<>  |t(i\('rty  ;  in  dtlicr  (;ms(!h,  sons  ;niil 
dan,Lrlitors  m.-iiiitain  ftlicii'  intiiiii  [lannts  wiijiout  icsortini;'  to 
tiu!  [>ai()c]iial  board  far  assistance,  ^^oinc  s;i\(i  for  one  lliin;,' : 
sonic  for  aiiotlicr.  Si>in<'sa\c  to  riniiiratc:  sonu' to  Itiiy  rlotlicis; 
sonic  to  luiy  a  watch  ;  but  in  all  cases  fingality  is  traiiusd  nntil 
saving  becomes  haliitnal. 

One  of  the  Vorkshirc.  actuaries  of  tlm  [leiiny  bank  tells  tlw; 
tgllowiiii;  anecdote  as  coiiNcvin^'  a  h  ss»»n  of  perscNcrance  and 
enconrayement  to  branch  managers  :  "  .Mr.  Smith  was  one  ol' 
onr  first  mana^'ers,  Imt  after  attcndiiii;-  two  or  three  times  lie 
left  ns.  sayiiiif  it.  was  'childish  woi-k.'  My  answer  was,  '  it  is 
with  childi'cn  we  have  to  do.'  .\  siiort  time  alter.  I  met  him, 
atid  in  the  course  of  c()n\ersation  I  ol)ser\('d  that  1  sometimes 
•i^ot  (h)irii  ill  llic  iiioitth,  and  did  not  know  whetluM'  we  were 
doin,L(  any  iniod,  and  1  felt  di>|M»Ned  to  u'Inc  u|»  the  bank  ;  on 
which  he  warmly  replied,  "for  (Jod's  sakt;  yon  mnst  not  let 
such  an  idea  u'ct  int(»  yonr  head.  ^'on  little  know  the  y,()od  you 
are  doing.  We  lia\e  not  a  man  abont  oni'  place  Imt  either  him- 
self or  some  membei's  of  his  family  arc  depositors.'"  I'he  a(  t- 
iiary  adds,  "  If  ( 'oloiiel  .\l;i'o\d  e\-er  desjiairs,  I  gi\e  him  the 
above  answer." 

Sa\  ings-ltanks  have  thus  been  the  means  ol' doing  an  imniense 
amniint  of  g(»od.  They  have  brought  j)eacc.  ha|>pincss,  ami 
comfort  into  many  I  honsands  of  families.  The  example  of  .Mr. 
Akroyd  should  Im'  l.iigely  iiiiitaleil.  and  (Iici'c  ought  not  to  be  ;i 
county  in  the  kingdom  without  its  oig.inized  sy,,tein  (>t  penny 
banl 


'<S. 


:17 


(VHAlTKIi   XI, 


IJVINC    HKYo.VI)    THK    MKANS. 


i'l 


)i)(l  VOll 


Bv  no  means  I'lin  in  ildit  :  tiikc  tliiiic  own  iiuii.siirc 

Who  ciui  not  live  on  twenty  ponml  n  ye;ir, 

Can  not,  on  forty  :  lie'.s  a  man  of  |ile;isnic, 

A  kind  of  thin-'  tliar.s  for  itsrll  tod  dvnv.     (Ji-.oKtii;   II  i:i:i'.i:i;  r. 


But  what  will  Mr.-^.  (Jrumlv  sav 


(>/>'  I'liiij. 


Ves  anil  No  are,  for  'moiI  oi'  evil,  tlie  (;iant,s  of  I,ifi 


i:ki;<ii,i). 


Ihr  F 


A  humli'eil  years  of  vexation  will  imt  pay  a  f.ulliin;^'  of  di'lil."      /•'/• 


ma 


ir)in 


'  l{e,s|>eefaliility   is   all    very   well    jur  fulks   who  ean  have  it  for  P'ady 
liey  ;    hut  to  he  ohli^cd  to  I'llh  into  delit  h)r  it      il'.s  enough  to  i)realv  tlu! 


mo 


heart  ot   in  i\u<i> 


.iKIMtuMt. 


:  sill  o|'  lu'idcrii  .society. 

Ml 


iiiolii'V  (Ml   classi's,    I) 


I7XTHAVA(JAN('H:  is  th.-  iM-rvadinu 
J      \t  is  not  ''oiifiiKMJ   to  tlif  rich   mikI 
extends  also  to  the  iiiifhllc  an<l  working,'  classes. 

Tliefe  iieN'ci'  \v;is  sucli  a  htirniiiLj  tjesire  to  Se  I'icli.  or  (o  sn  ni 
to  it;',  ricli,  l'eo|i|e  are  no  longer  satisliecl  w  ith  the  eai'nino;s  of 
lioncst  iiulusti-y  :  hut  tiiey  must  aim  at  heromin;,'  suihleuly  rich 
-  hy  Hjieculation.  yamltlini,'.  Iietliini-.  ,s\\  in.Uim;,  or  cliealin;;. 

('Cnei'al  e.\tfa\ao;an('('  is  to  Ite  seen  e\  <'r\  wliei'e.  it  i.s  especi- 
ally (lie  cjiaraclerisijc  ot'  town  lit'f.  N'on  see  it  in  the  streets, 
ill  the  parks,  in  the  churches,  TIm  e\t  ra\  a^ance  ot"  ilre.vs  is 
only  out!  of  its  si^jiis.  There  is  .i  oenrial  prodjufality  in  social 
"'eople  live  in  a  style  l»e\oii(l   llieir   nu'ans  ;  aiul   tin 


display. 

ri'siilts  are  <)l(ser\  ed  in  commercial  tailiires.  in  lisis  of  hankrupts, 
and  in  criminal  courts,  where  husint'ss  jueii  art'  so  often  con- 
victed of  dishonesty  niid  fraiitl. 

\|>p(!iirani'os  must  he  kept  up.      Men  nnist   srrm  t,o  he  i  ieh. 
Jlypocritcs  eiifiily  can  iin[)ose  upon  (hose  who  are  willing  to  he 


t  1 


i 


188 


Hypocrisy  and  Deht. 


[chap.  XI. 


convinced.  People  nuist  now  live  in  a  certain  style,  inhuhii 
handsoMU'  houses,  >s^\\v  ifc^d  dinners,  drink  fine;  wines,  and  liasc 
a  liaiidsoinc  efj'.iipMnc.  I'erliaps  tliey  are  only  al»l(;  to  accoiiijdihli 
this  hy  o\('rre;ichiii'4"  or  hy  dishonesty.  Kvcryhody  wondered  ul 
th(!  <,'eii(?rosity  and  slyh^  oi'  lo'ilpath  antl  R'lhsun  ;  hut  there  arc 
hundreds,  it"  not  thousands,  of  He(l|>:iihs  nnd  llohson.s  now. 
There  is  .'mother  i'l;i,;s  of  |tei)|th'.    imt  tiMudident,  Itut  (^xtravii 


ant,  thouyli  |)erli:\](s  on  the  hiink  ori)et(»nnnL:'  IVauduh'nt.     Tl 


ic 


\\v  nil 


)e  consK 


to  tl 
lered 


leir  means,  and  idten  hevond 


hem. 


Tl 


ley  (Misu'c  to 


re 


<|)ecti 


tide  peopli 


Thev  li\«'  according'  to  tl 


ic 


pei'nicious  ada,i;t!,  ■•()n(!  must  do  ;ts  oth<r;  do."  TJii'v 'h,' n"i 
consider  whelher  they  can  alloi'd  to  Hnc  up  to  or  bi^yond  their 
me;ins  ;   hut  they  tinnk  it  neresN.iry  to  secure  the   '*  j'csjK^et  "  nt 


)tl 


otliei's. 


Iixh 


olU'j' so,  thev  u.-.uall\  sMrrihce  their  own  selt-rt'S|»(cl 


They  rei^ai'd  their  dress,  their  estaltlishmcnts,   their  maiuier 
livinir,    and    their   ol»ser\:inre   of   f;ishion,    e.s   the   soh^   test 


S     Itl 


res[K!et;il»ility  and  rnnk.      They  make  an  ap|>earanci^  in  the  (y 
t)f  thci  W(»rhl,  though  it  may  he  eiitiiely  hvjiocritical  and  falsi'. 


('^ 


But  thev  must  not 


<fiiii  j)oor  1  They  must  hid<'  their  [((jverti 
by  ev((ry  eHbi-t.  Tliey  spend  their  money  before  it  is  earned — run 
into  (lel>t   at    (lie  j^rot 


crs,   t!i( 


halci'i'  s. 


tl 


le   milliners,  am 


1  th 


butcher 


^rh 


lev  must  entertniu  their  fasaioiiable  •*  trieuds 


ibh 


A> 


th(^  expense  of  the  shop  ki'(^| 


)ers. 


And   yet,   when  misl'ortuuc 


overtake  them,  and  when  the  debts  ha\e  be<'a,me  oviM'whelmiiii: 
what  boiM)nies  of  the  •'  fi-ieiids  ;"     Thev  ilv  awav,  and  shun  tli 


man  who  is  up  to  his  ears  in  dt 


■bt 


^^'t  poNcrtv  is  mort'  than  half  <lisa:nie;l  bv  those  wholat\e  tlu' 

\  ean'taiibrd  it."      lAiir-weather  friemls 


moral  couraLfe  to  sav 


ari^  of  no  use  wliate\er,  exeejit  as  an  indication  of  the  de[)th  of 
snobbery  to  whieli  human  iieiu:.'s  can  d(vsc(Mid.  What  is  "a  visit- 
inii;  coiUH^ction  ("     It  is  not  at  all   calculated  to  elevate  oiui  in  so- 


cial or  even  m  lai^iiiess  lite.  Success  mainly  depends  ujton  cliar.ic- 
ter,  and  the  u;eneral  esteem  in  which  a  person  is  held;  and  if  the 
attempt  is  made  to  snatch  the  re\var<l  of  success  before  it  is  i-arii- 
ed,  the  half-formed  footinj^^  may  at  onci^  f^'i^c  way,  and  the  aspir- 
ant will  fall,  nnlamented,  into  the  open-mouth(\d  draL^)!!  of  dcht. 
"Mrs.  druiKly,"  in  (h(>  phiy,  is  !mi(  an  impersonation  of  tlif 
conventionalism  ot'  tin;  world.      ('usti»m.  habit,  fashion,  use,  aihl 


CHAP.  XI.] 


Convent  ionnUsin . 


18D 


wont,  arc  jill  rcpresontofl  in  her.  Slio  may  bo  a  vory  vulgar  and 
commonplace  person,  but  her  power  is  nevertheless  pi'odigious. 
We  coi)y  and  imitate  her  in  all  thinjjs.  We  are  pinned  to  her 
aj>ronstring.  We  are  olxnlient  at  her  bidding.  We  art?  indolent 
anil  complaisant,  and  fear  to  ]>ro\()ke  l,ei'  ill  woi'd.  "  What  will 
Mi's.  (irundy  say  i"  (pieils  many  a  noble  imjadse,  hinders  many 
a  self-denying  act. 

There  .seems  to  be  a  general,  though  unconscious  conspiracy 
existing  against  each  other's  individuality  and  manluxjd.  We 
discourage  self-reiiani»',  anel  demand  cunlormity.      Each  must  see 

>+)><. >•;;'    ii\iis;     •iiiii    rliiidc   th 


e\«'s,  and  mm 


.tl 


iroutiii  otliers    miiuls 


W 


ire 


idolators  of  customers  and  obsei'vances,  looking  behind,  not  i'or- 
ward  and  upwai'd.  IMnued  down  and  held  back  by  ignorance 
an<l  weakness,  we  are  afraid  of  standing  aIon(>,  or  thinking  and 
acting  foi-  oursehes.  ( 'onventionaiism  rules  ail.  We  fear 
ste}»ping  out  into  the  free  air  of  inde})endent  thought  and  action. 
We  refuse  to  })lant  ourseh  es  upon  oui'  ijistiiicts,  and  to  vindicate 
spiritmd  free(h>m.      W'c  are  content  to  Ix-ar  others'  fruit,  not 


our 


our  own. 


Tn  pri\  ate  allairs  the  same  s[>irit  is  alilce  deh'tci'ious.  We  \[\  e 
;is  socii'ty  dii-cits,  each  arcording  to  the  standard  of  our  class. 
We  hav(>  a  sujterstitious  rcNercnce  for  custom.  We  di-ess  and 
eat  and  Hnc  in  ronfoiiulty  with  the  (irunrly  law.  So  long  as  we 
(1(1  this,  we  are  '*  respectable,"  according  to  class  notions.  'J'hiis 
tiiany  rush  ojm'ikmI  {'yml  u|»on  misery,   for  no  better  excuse?  than 


!i  loolish 


ar  o 


f  -  tl 


IC    WOl 


M. 


1'hev  ai'e  afraid  of  "what  others 


will  say  of  them  ;"  and.  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  those  wlio 
might  |»i(»bobly  raise  the  \oicc  of  censure  ai'e  not  the  wise  oi"  the 
t'iii'-seeing,  l>ut  nnich  oflcner  llii'  foolish,  the  vain,  and  the  short- 
sighted. 

Sir  William  Temph'  has  said  that  ''a  restlessness  in  men's 
minds  to  be  sonu'thingthat  they  aic  not.  and  to  hav«»  something 
that  they  ha\'e  not,   is  the  root  of  all  immoralitv.  "     Tlu!  state- 


ment is  s 
liciience 


trictl 


V   CO 


i-rect. 


It  has  1 


»eeu 


attested  by  universal  ex- 


Keeping  up  appearances  is  one  of  the  gi'eatest  soi'ial  e\  ils  of 
tlu?  age.     There  is  a  general  eH'ort,  more  particularly  among  tin? 
midille  and  upper  chusses,  at  seeming  to  be  something  that  they 
12 


•■•» 


U 
}  ■ 


% 


.'I 


Ii;li 


! 


100 


Keepiuf/  up  Appearances. 


[chap.  XI. 


aro  not.     They  put  on  appciirancus,  live  n  life  of  sham,  and  en- 
deavor to  look  soiiK.'thin;,'  superior  to  what  they  really  are. 

•  "l{es])eetability"  is  one  of  the  chief  aims.  liespectability, 
rej^'arded  in  its  true  sense,  is  a  desirtible  thing.  To  be  i-espected, 
on  liijjht  i;iounds,  is  an  ol)jt'ct  which  every  man  and  woman  is 
justiiifd  in  attainiuLT-  I'ut  iriodcrn  respectability  consists  of 
external  apj)eaiances.  It  means  wearin;^'  line  clotlies,  dwelling' 
in  fine  houses,  and  liAini;  in  line  stvle.  It  looks  to  the  out- 
side — to  sound,  show,  externals.  It  listens  to  the  chiidc  of  i^old 
in  the  poi-kct.  Moral  wortli  or  goodness  forms  no  }>art  of 
modei'U  respectability.  A  man  in  these  ditys  may  be  perfectly 
"res[>cctablc,"  and  yt  t  altiigetiuM"  <lespi(!al>le. 

Tliis  false  autl  demoraliziuijf  habit  arises  from  the  overweeninc,' 
estimate  wliich  is  fornuMl  oi'  two  thini,'s,  well  enomrh  in  their 
place — rank  and  w-'alth.  I^verybody  strui{'^les  to  rise  into  some 
other  class  al)ove  him.  "^riu'  spirit  of  caste  is  found  as  keenlv 
Jit  work  anion^'  the  humblest  as  among  the  highest  i-anks.  At 
Birmingham  there  \\ as  a  club  ()f  workmen  with  tails  to  their 
cojits,  and  another  witlicut  tails:  t!ie  one  looked  down  ni»on  the 
otiier.  Cobbett,  so  felicitous  in  his  nicknames,  called  his  jtolit- 
ical  o)t})onent,  Mi'.  Sadler,  '"a  lincn-drapei'."  Hut  the  lineu- 
di'a|)er  also  has  plcnt}  of  people  beneath  him.  The  linen-drapT 
looks  down  on  the  huckster,  tlu^  huckstei'  on  the  nu'chanic.  ami 
llie  mei'Ii.iuic  on  the  daydal)orei'.  The  lluid<y  who  exhibits  his 
calvc^s  liehind  a  baron,  holds  his  head  considcialih'  higher  ihaii 
the  flunky  who  s-rves  a  brewer. 

ft  matters  not  at  what  class  yon  begin,  or  howexcr  low  in  tlic 
social  scab',  you  will  fnid  that  every  man  iias  somebody  l)eneath 
him,  .\moiigthe  middling  ranks  this  soi't  of  exelusiveness  is 
very  marked.  Mach  eir(  le  would  think  it  a  degradai  ion  to  mix 
on  familiar  terms  with  the  members  of  the  ciivh;  beneath  if. 
In  small  (owns  iiud  \illages,  you  wilPlind  distinct  coteries  hold- 
ing alottf  i'vo\n  c.'.ch  other,  perhaps  despising  each  other,  ami 
very  often  pelting  each  other  with  hard  words.  The  cathe(lriil 
towns,  genei'ally,  ha\'e  at  least  six  of  such  distinct  classes,  rank- 
ing one  b(  neath  the  other. 

And  while  each  has  his  or  her  own  exc^lusive  circle,  which  ;ill 
of  su[>posed  inferior  rank  are  prechah.'d  from  entering,  they  are 


CHAP.  XI.] 


Kc'phi'j  up  Apjtetiranct'.s. 


191 


tlu'iv 
o  some 
koonlv 

s.      At      I 
()  tli"iv 
•oil  the 
t  polit- 
lincn- 

ilUil 

)ils  liis 
y  ilian 

\\\  ill'' 
>m'ss  IS 

ti)  llUN 

.Mtli  it. 
cs  liolil- 
icr,  ;iu<l 
iitlu'»li'''' 


:W\c\i  nil 
t.liev  iH"t-" 


it  tlic  same  tiiiM'  stru,u:jliii^  to  ]);i:vs  ()\rr  tli«' line  of  .s.)cijil   de- 


iiiarkiition   wliieli  lias  bcrii  (hu'.vn  l)v  tliosc  al»ovo  the 


in. 


They 


are  ejiijer  to  ovoileaj)  it,  and  tlins  i^^ain  admission   into  a  circle 
still  more  cxclnsive  than  thcii-  own. 

'riicrc  is  ;ilsM  a  dcs|H'rat('  scramMc  ior  front  ])lac('s.  and  many 
arc  the  mean  sliifti  employed  to  i^iiin  them.  We  nnist  possess 
the  liomajj^e  of  society  I  An<l  for  this  pni'pose  we  must  l)e  rich, 
or  at  least  .scrm  to  l»e  so.  Hence  the  stiMiLruh's  alter  style;  the 
clloits  made  to  jtut  <»n  the  a.[i|»ea  ranees  of  wealth;   the  dash,  tlie 


yhtter,  and  the  sliow  or  nii«l(l!e  and  nj)j)er  class  lite  ;  and  |ienc«', 
too,  th<'  iiiodey  train  of  [tailed  and  \itiated  tastes,  of  shrmdceu 
hearts  and  stnnt(>d  intcHects,  of  folly.  iVivolity,  and  m.-iflnoHS. 
One  of  the  most  demoralizing'  juactices  of  m(»dein  iclineiin'nt 
is  the  '*  lar;^'e-|»ai'tv  "  system.  I'eojde  cram  their  houses  with 
i'(>s])ectal)le  mol)s,  tinis  coni'oiinini;-  to  a  ritliculous  eustoin.  Koiis- 
seau,  with  all  his  aherrations  of  mind,  said,  "  I  had  rather  ha\i' 
lay  honse  too  small  fur  a  day  than  too  laryc  i'or  a  twelvtMiionth  " 
Kashioii  exactly  rexfrscstlie  maxim,  and  domestic  mischief  is 
often  l(ei;iin  with  a   laiue  dwelliiii;- ;ind  sidtalile  accommodations. 


Tl 


ic  misfortunes  consists  in  this,   that  we   ncxcr  look  hel 


*)w  our 


level  for  an  e.\aiiii>le.  hut  alw.ays  al)o\e  it. 

It  is  not  so  much,  howexer.  in  the  mere  a|>|)earances  kejit  up, 


tal 


IS  111  the  means  taken    to  keep  them  uj».  that   tla'  truitlul  cause 


of  iminoralitN'  is  to  lie  found. 


iiian   na\iiiy;  assiimci 


I  a   ck 


is.s 


status,  runs  all  lisk.s  to  keep  it  up.  It  is  thoinrht  to  he  a  des- 
(•'■ut  in  the  world  to  ahridu'e  one's  self  of  a  siipeilluity.  The  seem- 
i  Hi,' rich  man.  w  ho  dii\  es  his  close  can  i  aye  and  drinks  ( 'luini- 
]iai>ne,  will  not  tolerate  y  descent  l( 


)  a   <'i!''  ami  plain    heer 


UK 


tl 


le  \-{'f< 


pectaltle  mail,  who  keeps  lir;  ;:!l'',  would  think  it 


a  <l(  ii'ia- 


ilation  to  Iia\e  to  tra\('l  atooi  or  in    a    Itiis   lietweeii  his  coiintrv 


house  and  his  town  o(i 


ice 


ie\'    will    descend    to    imiiioraiitv 


lather  than  «lesce!i(l  in  apparent  raiiK  ;  they  will  yield  tt»  dis- 
li(tiiesty  rather  than  yield  up  the  mock  appkiuse  and  hollow 
rtspect  of  that  \n'^  fool,  ••the  world." 

KiAery  hody  can  call  to  niin<l  hundreds  of  ca.ses  of  men  "  res- 
jicctahle  men" — who,  fioni  one  extra vau'a nee  ha\i'  ;j;'one  on  to 
iiiiother,  wantonly  sipiandeiinif  wealth  which  was  not  theirs,  in 
order  to  keeji  u[>  a  worldly  leputation,  and  cut  a  tigiire  before 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


IIM     12.5 


IIIM  |||m 


1.4 


2.0 


1.8 


1.6 


PS 


<^ 


0 


ei. 


■eA 


^a 


*^, 


> 


/a 


^4 


> 


^ 


'# 


/ 


'/ 


w 


Sciences 
Corpordtion 


^ 


iV 


<^ 


:\ 


\ 


^ 


O 


.^ 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY    14S80 

(716)  872-4503 


^ 


V 


s 


%?.r 


1 


19!2 


Wome7i  mid  Exclusioeness. 


[CHAl*.  XI. 


their  .•idinii'lnu"  fellows  ;  all  endiuM-  in  ;i  sudden  siiiasli,  a  iViglit- 
fid  doNvidall,  an  utter  banki'nj)tcv,  to  tlu;  ruin,  perhaps,  of  thou- 
sands. They  ha^'e  hnished  up  with  paying  a  resiiectahk;  diA'idend 
oi'  sixpt'iice  in  tlie  pound  I  Inih'e'd,  it  is  not  too  nnu-li  to  sav 
that  hve-sixths  of  th(!  fraud  and  swindling  that  disgrace  eoni- 
rnercial  transactions  ha,ve  liail  iheii'  origin  in  the  diseased  nioralitv 
f  ''  k 
To  1) 


o 


ceDinLi'  ui)  aDoeai'ances 


PI' 


respectaltle,     m  the  false  sense  o 


f  tl 


U)    w 


ord,  what  is 


not  sacriheed  i  I'cace,  honesty,  truth,  virtue — all  to  keep  up  ap- 
pearances. We  nuist  clieat,  and  st-rid*.  and  det'ei\e.  and  defi'aud, 
that  "the  world"  may  not  see  behind  oui'  mask  I  Wv  must  toi'- 
nient  and  ensla\  c  onrsel  ves,  Ix'cause  \\v  most  extort  "the  woi'ld's" 
ap})laus(\  o]'  at   least  ol>taiu  "the  world's"  good  o)>inion  ! 

How  often  is  suicide  ti'acea.l)le  to  this  fals«^  sentiment  I  Vain 
men  will  gi\-e  \\\)  their  lives  r;ither  than  their  class  notions  of 
respectahility.  They  will  cul  the  thread  of  existence  rather 
tlian  cut  fashionahle  life.  Very  few  suiciih'S  are  committed  from 
real  want.  "  VVt*  never  hear,"  says  Joid  l>ai'low,  "of  a  man 
c()mmitting  suicitle  for  waut  ol'  a  loaf  of  l)read,  hut  it  is  olten 
>  done  ibr  want  of  a  coach." 

Of  this  mean  and  miserable  s|>ii-it  of  class  and  caste  wcnini 
aic  thoesjx'cial  \ictims.  I'hey  are  generally  brought  uj)  with 
I'alse  notions  of  life,  and  arc  lauyht  to  estimate  men  and  thin!.js 


rather 


l.v 


tl 


cir    external   appi'arances    than 


bv   tl 


leir   intrinsic 


worth.  Their  cilucation  is  conducti'd  mainly  with  the  \iew  ol' 
plea.-ing  and  attracting  the  adnnration  of  others,  rather  than  of 
im])ro\-ing  and  de\<'lopiiig  their  (jualities  ol'  nund  and  heart. 
They  are  indmed  wilh 'notions  of  exj^-lusiveness,  fashion  aiul 
gentility.  \  )vs]»ccLa!)le  ])osition  in  society  is  held  u[>  to  thciu 
as  (he  mark  to  be  ainie(|  al.  To  l)e  ciimin.d  or\ici(»us  is  virtu- 
ally represcnied  to  them  as  lar  less  lion  il»le  than  to  Ik^  "  \  uigar," 
Immiiretl  wiflnn  the  iJasiille  of  exclusiv  ism,  woman  is  held  cap- 
tive to  all  the  paltry  shifts  aud  expediencies  of  con\enlion, 
fashion,  gciit  ility,  and  so  foilh.  The  geiinine  benevolence  of  hci' 
natui-e  ispervcrti'd  ;  her  heart  becomi's  contrat'ted  ;  aud  the  very 
highest  sources  of  happiness — thos(^  whicii  consist  in  ii  kindly 
sympathy  witii  humanity  in  all  ranks  of  life — areas  a  well  shut 
up  and  a  I'ountain  sealed. 


CHAP.  XI.] 


Women  and  ^xtravnr/ance. 


193 


Is  it  not  a  fiict  that  what  is  called  '■  tasliioiialdc  society,"  a  fine 
oiitsi(h;  appoarauco  is  rcoardeil  almost  in  the  liiflit  of  \irtu(>1 — - 
that  to  1)0  rich,  or  to  liavc;  tlio  apjicarancc  of  rirlics,  is  cstcciiKMl 
as  a  nitM'it  of  a  lii,<;li  order;  wheivas.  to  he  pooi-.  or  to  seem  so, 
ranks  as  sonictliin,!;  like  an  un))ardonaltl(^  olfcnsc'  ?  Nay,  such  is 
the  hcartlcssiH^ss  of  this  class  spirit,  tliat  a  youu'jf  woman  bcloiii;- 
in<i;  to  the  bc^ttcr  class  who.  hy  misfoi-tniic  '>r  family  reverses,  has 
been  thrown  upon  her  o\\  n  i-esouri-es.  and  who  endea\<»i's  hy  hei" 
own  honest  hands  to  earn  her  honest  hicad,  iinme(liately  los(>s 
caste,  and  is  \'irtually  exjielled  from  'Tespectahle  "  society.  The 
resolution  to  ]n\  inde])endent — the  most  inxiijoratin^'  resolution 
which  can  take  possession  of  the  human  mind-is  scouted  in  such 
circles  as  a  de,tjradin,L,'  thin,i;" ;  ami  those  who  ha\('  Iieen  hrouLfht 
np  within  the  iulluence  of  fashion  will  suhinit  to  t  he  most  sexcrci 
privations  rather  than  submit  to  the  loss  of  tlieir  class  and  <'asto 
rcs])ectal)ility  ! 

Thus  l)rou,i;'ht  u]).  it  is  no  wonder  that  woi'ian  has  lieen  the  co- 
partnej-  with  man  in  u)>h<»ldin,iL,'  the  ^'eneral  extravagance  of  the 
i\<Si\  "^riiere  nev(M'  was  such  a.  rajn'c  for  di-ess  and  finery  amouij 
I'aitrlish women  as  there  is  now.  It  ri\als  the  eoirupt.  and, 
dehaucheil  a,i;'e  of  I.ouis  XV.  of  Krance.  A  ileliriuni  of  fashion 
exists.  Women  ar(^  ranke(l  by  what  they  wear,  not  1»\'  what  they 
ar(^  l*]\traA'ajjfance  of  dress,  and  almost  indecency  of  di-ess.  has 
taken  the.  place  of  siin|>le  womanly  beauty.  W^ordsworth  once 
described  the  "  perfect  woman  nobly  planned."  ^\'llere  will  you 
find  the  perfi"  t  woman  now  I  Xot  in  the  party-colored.  nNcrdress- 
cd  ci-eatnre-  the  thinjLT  of  shreds  and  patches  with  false  liair, 
falser  color,  false  eyebrows,  false  eveiwtliin:.^  Some  of  nature's 
journeymen  ha\'e  made  them,  ami  not  made  them  well,  they 
imitate  humanity  so  abonniiably. 

The  e\'il  does  not  stop  with  llie  moneyed  classes,  it  (l(>scends 
to  those  who  haxc  nothiinx  but  (heir  salary  to  li\('  upon.  It 
ilescends  to  the  wi\es  of  clerks  and  shopmen.  They,  too,  dress 
for  respectability.  They  live  beyond  tlieir  means.  They  nuist 
li\(^  in  ijimcrack  suburl)an  villas,  and  *'yi\i'  parries."  They  must 
.sc(\  what  is  fj;oin!if  on  at  the  theati-es.  I']\('iy  farthinir  i^  spent  so 
soon  MS  earned — sometiiues  Ix'lbre.  The  husband  does  not  instu'n 
liis  life,  and  tlie  wife  runs  into  <li^bt.     If  tlu;  man  died  to-)norrow, 


'    I  "  ■    \ 


:^l 


;■...,; 


I! 


1 


194 


nmuiiiif/  hUo  Di'ht 


[CH 


A  P.   XI. 


he  would  loav(!  liis  Avift^  and  cliildrnn  paupers.  The  money  he 
ou^ht  to  liMvc  saved  duriuLj  liis  liti;  of  toil  is  sjx'iit  on  "  r<'sj)(>('ta- 
l)ility;"  and  it"  he  leaves  a  few  pounds  behind  him,  thcv  an^  usual- 
ly sjH'ut  in  .yiviusi;  the  thfiflless  husband  a  ]'es|>eetable  fuiu'i'al. 

"Is  thai  dress  ])aid  for  ?"  asked  a  lnisl)aud.  '-No."  "Then 
you  ai-e  allowin,'^;  yourself  to  be  elothed  at  anollier  man's  ex- 
pense 1"  No  woman  is  justitied  in  ninninn  into  debt  for  a  di'ess 
withfMit  lier  hiisband's  knowleilp'  and  eousent.  If  she  do  so,  she 
is  clothin,!.';  herself  at  the  exjii  use  of  the  draj>er.  'Cliis  is  one  of 
tile  thing's  (hat  woi-ry  a  man  who  is  trying"  to  ke(«p  his  head  al 
Avati'r;  and  it  is  often  snllieient  to  tni'u  his  heai-t  against  his  wil 


)o\e 


tnd  tier  exti'a\',i!4aiiees.      it  is  ui  this  \\:\\  that  iiieomes  ar(^  ^\nn 


d- 


dled 


awav,  and  tliat  lite  is  rendered  (Ik-  steiie  of  bitterness  an 


.1 


diseonteiit.     This  is  especially  the  ease  nvIkmi  lK)th   liusliaiid  and 
wife  are  alike  spendthrifts. 

By  running-  into  debt  yourself,  or  Ity  your  allowiiii;  your  wife 
t<i  run  into  d(^bt,  you  lyive  another  person  power  over  your  lib- 
erty. Vou  ean  not  venture  to  look  you)'  creilitor  in  the  face'. 
A  doubh\  knoek  at  the  door  fri;;litens  you  ;  the  ]>ostinaii  may  be 
delixeriii;;  a  lavvver's  letter  demaudiii!^'  the  amount  you  owe. 
You  are  unable  to  pay  it,  and  make  a.  sneaking'  exeuse.  Vou 
invent  some  pretense  for  not  |)ayiin:'.     At  length  you  are  diiveii 


to  (1 


owni'i" 


ht  1 


yin,i'';   lor  '•hini-'  rides  on  dents  haek. 


\\' 


>u 


What  madness  it.  is  to  run  into  debt  for  superlluitie 

ly  tine  articles      liner  than   we  can    pay  for.      W(^  are  otferei 


six    months'  —  twelve    months'  eretlit  !      It   is  thi'  sliopd<ee[>ei's 
tem|itation  ;  and  we  fall  before  it.     W'e  are  too  spiritless  to  live 

but  must  meanwhile  live  ui)on  othei's.' 


upon   our  own  earnings, 

Th(^    Honians    rei^arded   their   servants  as  their  eneiine 


() 


lie 


inii;lit  almost  regard  modei'u  shop-k(^epers  in  (he  samc!  liijj'ht. 
^^\  jLfiviiin'  credit,  by  pressin;^;  women  to  buy  line  clothes,  thty 
]>liu.'e  the  stroliu'est  temptation  beloretliein.  They  iiiv  eii;le  ( he 
wiv(^s  of  men  w  ho  are  disposed  (o  be  honest  into  debt,  and  aflcr- 
"wark  send  in  untruthful  bills.  They  t  hai'i!,!^  heavier  piiees,  and 
their  customers  pay  them — sometimes  doubly  pay  them  ;  for  it 
is  iiiijiossible  to  keep  a  proper  check  upon  loiin-due  accounts. 

Professor    Xewmans    advice    is    worthy    of    beini;"    t'ollowed 
"  Heartily   do   \    wish,"  he   says,    "  that   sh(»p   debts    w(>re   jiro- 


CHAP. 


X..] 


Temptations  to  Crime. 


195 


k(»U    owe. 


nouiiced  after  a  certain  flay  irrecovei-able  at  hiw.  'J'lie  etTect 
would  ho  that  no  one  would  be  al)lo  to  ask  ci'edit  at  a  slioj) 
except  wlieri!  lie  was  well  known,  and  for  tiiflin^j  sums.  All 
})rices  would  sink  t(^  the  scale  of  cash  prices.  I'he  dishonorable 
system  of  fashionabL.';  debtors,  who  always  ])ay  too  lat(3,  if  at  all, 
and  cast  their  deliciencies  on  other  customers  in  thi^  form  of  in- 
creased chai'ges.  would  be  at  once  annihilated.  8ho}>-keepei's 
would  be  rid  of  a  gieat  deal  of  caie,  whicl.  ruiius  the  ha})pines.s 
of  thoursands." 

A  pci'fect  knowledge  of  human  nature  is  in  the  prayer,  ''  Le;id 
us  not  iato  tcniptatiou."  No  man  and  no  woman  ever  resists 
temjdation  aft(;r  it  has  begun  to  bo  temptation.  It  is  in  the 
outworks  of  the  habits  thnt  the  defense^  must  lie.  The  woman 
who  hesitates  to  incur  a  de])t  which  slie  ouglit  not  to  incur  is 
lost.  The  cleik  or  apprentice  who  gloats  o\'er  his  master's  gold, 
sooner  or  later  appropri.it<'s  it.  lie  does  so  when  he  has  got 
over  th(^  h;i,bitual  leeling  Avhich  miidi;  any  a})proacli  to  it  an  im- 
possiliility.  Thus  tlie  habits  which  insinuate  themselves  into 
tlu!  thousand  inconsiderable  acts  of  life  constitute  a  very  large 
l)art  of  man's  moral  conduct. 

This  running  into  debt  is  a  great  cmso  of  dishonesty.  It 
does  not  matter  what  the  d(?bt  is  -wlK^thei'  it  b(^  for  liets  un- 
settled, for  losses  by  cards,  for  milliners'  or  dra|H'rs'  l)ills  unpaid. 
]Meii  who  hav(!  beim  w«/ll  edui-ated,  well  trained,  and  jaii  in  tlie 
way  of  earning  money  honestly,  art;  (4'ten  lun  away  with  liy  <'\- 
tra\-aganeies,  by  keeping  up  ap;.eara.nces,  l»y  Ix-ttiuL^',  hy  spccu- 
lation  and  gami»linL!;,  and  hv  the  so  •ietv  of  the  dissolute  of  both 
sexes. 

Till!  writer  of  this  book  has  had  eonsiderabi;'  e\)u'ri<'nce  of  IIk; 
manner  in  which  young  men  have  lu'cn  led  tVom  ihc  way  of 
w<'ll-doing  into  that  of  vice  jiiul  criminali!\'.  <  >n  oiu'  oecasion 
his  namt!  was  forgeil  by  a  clerk,  to  enalti'  him  lo  o!)tain  a  sum 
of  mom^y  to  pay  the  debts  incurred  l»y  hiiii  al  a  public-house. 
Thi!  criminal  was  originally  a  young  man  ol'  good  eiluralion,  of 
reasons'-ble  ahility,  well  connected,  and  married  to  a.  respectal>le 
young  lady,  hut  all  his  relatives  and  tVieuds  were  i'  j;otten  — 
wife  and  child  and  all — in  Iiis  lose  for  drink  and  cai'd-playing. 
Ho  was  condemned,  and  sentenced  to  .sevcnil  years"  impii.soi\- 
^lont. 


ill 


-I 


i 


F  [fin 
ii 


196 


How  Crime  is  Committed. 


[chap.  XI. 


In  another  case,  the  defaulter  was  the  son  of  a  dissentino^  min- 
ister. He  stoh^  some  VfihiaV)le  doeunients.  whieli  lie  converted 
into  money.  He  escaped,  and  was  tracked.  He  had  jjiven  out 
that  lie  was  cjoinrr  to  Australia,  bv  Southampton.  The  Penin- 
sidar  and  Oi'iental  steamer  was  searched,  hut  no  jierson  answer- 
in*^  to  his  description  was  discov(M-ed.  Some  time  ])ass(Ml.  when 
one  of  the  T'nnk-of-En2:land  notes  which  he  had  carri(>d  away 
Avith  him  was  return(>d  to  ihe  hank  tVom  Dnhlin.  A  detectivf 
was  ])ut  u])on  his  track  :  he  was  found  in  the  lowest  company, 
hrouijht  hack  to  London,  tried,  and  sentenced  to  t\\el\-e  months' 
imprisonnuMit. 

In  anothei'  case,  the  ci'iminal  occupied  a  hiujh  i)osition  in  a 
railway  company — sf»  liiLjh  that  lie  was  pi-onioted  from  it  to  he 
manager  of  the  Royal  Swedish  liailway.  Ifc  was  om^  of  tlie 
too  numerous  ])ersons  who  are  cuLrauccl  in  kcepiiiij;'  u])  appear- 
ances, ii'respectiA-(>  of  honesty,  morality,  or  virtue.  JTc  u'ot  d(>e)i- 
ly  into  deht.  as  most  of  sucli  peo])Ie  do  ;  and  then  he  Itecanie  dis- 
honest. Hc^  })ecame  tlie  associate  of  jirofessional  tliiex'es.  He 
ijhstracted  a  key  from  the  ofHce  of  which  he  was  in  char<jfe,  and 
handed  it  to  a  well-known  thief.  Tliis  was  the  key  of  tlie  strong 
box  in  whieli  y;old  and  silver  wt're  conveyed  bv  railway  fiom 
London  to  Pai-is.  A  cast  of  the  key  was  taken  in  wax,  and  it 
was  copied  in  iron.  It  was  by  means  of  this  kt>v  that  "  the 
Great  ({old  Ivobbei'v"  was  ellecteil.  .Vfter  some  time  tlu^  thieves 
M'ere  appridiended,  and  the  person  who  had  stohui  the  \<r\  — tlu^ 
kx'cjHM'-up  of  appearances,  then  manai'-er  of  the  iJoyal  Swedish 
Railway- -was  ,",pprehend(>d,  con\  icted,  and  sentenced  by  Raroii 
Martin  to  transportation  for  life. 

The  Ri'v.  John  l>a\  i  ..  the  late  chaplain  of  New,irat(>,  published 
the  followiiiij  amoiiij  otlun'  accounts  of  the  causes  of  crime  amon^ 
th"  com  icte<l  youni;  nuMi  who  came  nn<ler  his  notice  : 

"  [  knew  a  youth,  the  child  of  an  ollieer  in  tln^  navy,  who 
had  servcMl  liis  countrv  with  distinction,  but  whose  |)reuiature 
death  renden^d  his  widow  thankful  to  i-eceive  nn  oilicial  ap|)oint- 
m(4it  for  her  (hdicate  boy  in  a  Government  office.  His  income 
from  the  oflici!  was  criven  faithfully  to  his  mother  ;  and  it  was  a, 
pleasure  and  a  pride  to  him  to  ijladdeii  her  heart  by  the  thou^jflit 
that  ho  was  helping  her.      She  hud  othei-  children — two  little 


r? 


CHAP.  XI.] 


Love  of  Dress. 


':  ir 


197 


on  m  M 
it  to  1)(' 
(•  of  tlio, 

ill>|)0!U'- 

;ot  dvv])- 
iime  <lif^- 
t's.      Hci 
,vrfi\  iind 
,10  strong 
'■ay  from 
.  and  it 
it  "  tbo 
\  thieves 
,.y    -4lie 
Swedisli 
)V  I'iiron 

)ll])]isll(Ml 

le  among 

ivy,  wlio 

remature 
!i]tj»oiiit- 

is  income 
it  was  a 
thought 

,\vo    UttU'i 


girls,  just  rising  from  tlie  orafll<'  to  womanliood.  ¥iov  senntv 
pension  and  his  salnry  made  every  one  happy.  I>nt  over  tin's 
youth  cam(^  a  love  of  dress.  lie  had  not  strength  of  mind  to 
see  how  mueh  more  truly  heautifid  a  jtuie  mind  is  tlinn  a  Hufdy 
decorated  exterior.  PFe  tix)l<  pleasure*  in  helping  his  mother 
imd  sistiM'S,  hut  did  not  take  gre;it<".-  |)le;isiu'e  in  thinking  that 
to  do  this  kindness  to  them  he  must  he  conic  nted  foi-  n  time  to 
flress  a  little  worse  than  his  feilcw-clerks  ;  his  clothes  .might  Jip- 
jicai'  a  little  wofn.  lait  they  syvw  like  (lie  spot  on  the  di-ess  of  a, 
soldier  arising  from  the  discharge  of  dulv  :  (hey  weie  no  marks 
of  undue  carelessiu'ss  :  necessity  had  wtdught  them  ;  and  wliihi 
tlii\v  indicated  neeessity,  they  mai-ked  als(t  ilie  patli  (it  honor, 
iuid  without  such  spots  duty  must  Iiaxc  heen  nc^-|ccte<|.  |>ut 
this  youth  did  not  think  of  such  giHut  thoughts  as  1  licse.  lie  felt 
iishfinuMl  at  his  threa<n>ai('  hut  cl;',\n  coat.  The  smart,  new- 
shining  dress  of  othei-  clerks  moi'tilii'd  him  ....  lie  wanted  to 
ii|>])ear  tinei'.  In  an  e\  il  hour  he  or<lered  a  suit  of  elothes  from 
11  fashionahle  tailoi'.  1 1  is  situation  ami  conn(>ctions  piocured 
him  a  short  cicdii.  Uut  tradesmen  must  he  paiil.  and  he  was 
again  and  again  importuned  to  d(>fray  liis  del)t.  To  relieve  him- 
self of  his  ereditoi'  he  stole  a  lettei'  containing  a  Icn-pouutl  note. 
Ills  tailor  was  ))aid,  l»ut  the  injni-cd  jnity  knew  (he  numher  of 
the  note.  It  was  traced  to  the  tailor,  hy  him  to  the  thief,  with 
th(>  means  and  opportunity  of  stealini;-  it.  and  in  a  few  ilays  Ik^ 
was  transpoi'ted.  His  handsome  dress  was  exchanged  tor  the 
ilresH  of  a,  convict.  Dettci'  liy  far  wouM  it  lia\e  heen  for  him  to 
have  worn  his  ])oorei-  garh.  with  tht^  marks  of  honest  lalior  upon 
it,  JTe  formed  only  anothei"  exannile  of  the  intense  folly  of  lo\e 
of  dress,  which  exists  ([uite  as  much  among  foolish  young  men 
lis  among  foolish  young  women. 

When  Sir  ("harles  Napier  let'(  India,  he  issued  an  older  to 
the  army,  in  which  he  r<'}>i'ove(l  theolliccrs  for  <'ontracl  im^' dehts 
without  the  prosjject  of  paying  (hem.  The  commandei-in  chiet" 
found  that  he  was  suhjeet  to  constant  complaints  against  otiieei's 
for  non-paynient  of  dehts;  and  that  in  sonu'  cases  he  found  that 
the  ruin  of  d(!serving  and  in<lustrious  trad(>smen  had  heen  eon- 
se(|uent  on  that  cause.  This  growing  \ice  ho  severely  repri- 
manded, as  biM'ng  derogatory  to  the  character  of  the  g<uitlenuin, 


ffi 


;i 


1 

t 

: 

!.:■ 

if: 

i 

198 


Eet'kless  Expenditure. 


[chap.  XI. 


as  a  flognidinf?  tliintj,  as  entitling'  thosi?  who  ])ractise(l  it  to 
"grou])  with  the  infinnous,  with  tliose  who  are  cheats,  and  wlioisc 
society  is  contamination."  He  stronijly  uriffd  them  to  stick  to 
their  dnties,  to  reju'ohate  (\\trav;iganc(^  and  e\[)ense  ot"  all  sorts, 
and  to  practise  ri^id  (-conomy;  for  "to  driidv  unpaid-for  Cljam- 
\r.v^\w,  and  unpaid-toi'  hetu-,  and  to  ridt;  un[>;ud-for  horses,  is  to 
Ije  ji  eliejit,  and  not  ;i,  Lfentlenum." 

Tlu^  extriiva.ijance  of  these  yoiin<i'  ''^iMitlenuMi"  in  [n<lia  is,  in 
too  nniny  respects,  l)nt  a  counterpart  of  th(^  exti'a\anaiice  o1'(mii' 
Youni;  "iientU'nien"  at  home.  The  revcla.lioiis  of  extravagances 
at  Oxford  and  Canibridtro  pt)int  to  the  school  in  whiih  thev  ha\'' 
learned  their  nianiiei-s.  -Many  worthy  jiarents  luive  been  rniiu-d 
by  the  sons  whom  thev  had  sent  tliither  to  be  niad(;  scholars  of; 
but  who  hiive  learned  ojdy  to  be  -'n-enilenr'n "  in  the  po]»ul;n' 
acceptation  of  the  M^ord.  To  be  a  '' i;'en(l<'!u;!n"  nowadays  is  tn 
be  a,  gand)ler,  a  hoi'se-racer,  a  c;ird-player,  a  dancer,  a  huntei',  ji 
roiir — or  all  combined,  Tlu^  "gentleman"  lives  fast,  spends  fast, 
drinks  fast,  dies  fast.  The  old  stvh;  of  ^-eiitlenian  has  de.n'onc- 
rated  into  a  "iient"  and  a  "fast"  man.  "(hMithMnan"  has  become 
disreputable;  and  when  it  is  now  emj)loyed,  it  oftener  signiiics 
an  idle  spendthrill  than  an  accomplished,  A'ii-tnous,  laborious 
man. 

Young  men  are  growing  (piite  shameless  about  b("ing  in  dciht; 
and  th(^  immorality  extends  througliout  soci(>ty.  Tastes  an;  he- 
coining  more  e.vtravagant  and  hixurious,  without  th(^  corresjiond 
ing  increase  of  means  to  <'na,bl((  them  to  be  gratified.  I>ut  tlioy 
are  gratified,  neverthehvss;  and  dobts  are  incuri-.'d,  which  aft(M' 
ward  weigh  lik(!  a,  millsione  lound  tlu'  nin-k.  l*]xtra\;igant  habits, 
once  fornu'd  and  fostered,  are  very  ditHcult  to  give  u[).  The 
existing  recklessnciss  of  lunning  into  debt  without  t)ie  pi'os})('i't, 
often  Avithout  even  the  intention,  of  paying  the  de]>t.  saps  (lie 
})ub]ie  morals,  and  sj)ri>!ids  misery  throughout  the  miihUe  ami 
u])per  clas,ses  of  society.  The  tone*  of  morality  has  sunk,  and  if 
will  be  long  befoi'c  it  is  fairly  )'cH'(jvered  again. 

In  the  mean  time,  those;  who  can,  ought  to  set  their  faces 
against  all  expenditure  wluu-e  thco-e  are  not  sutfuaeut  means  to 
justify  it.  Th(!  sa.fest  plan  is,  to  run  up  no  i)ills,  and  never  to 
got  into  debt;  and  the  lu'xt  is,  if  one  does  get  into  dcl)t,  to  get 


CHAP.  XI.] 


Knowlechjo.  of  ArWimetic. 


199 


out  of  it  ai^iiin  as  quickly  as  possible.  A  iiuui  in  tlol>t  is  not  his 
own  nmster:  he  is  at  tlu'  incivy  of  the  tnulesnuMi  \\v  cinploys. 
lie  is  tli(^  butt  of  la\vv(!i's,  tlic  by-woid  of  civditoi's,  tlu^  sfaiulnl 
of  neighbors;  Ix;  is  a  slave  in  hisowji  house;  his  moral  cliiU'actt'r 
becomes  degraded  and  deliled;  ;uid  even  his  own  household  and 
fiunily  regard  him  witli  pity  akin  to  coiiicm|)t. 

MoutaigiH^  said,  "'  I  always  feel  a  |il<';.sr.ie  in  paying  my 
debts,  becaust!  1  discharge  m\"  shoulders  of  a  weaiMsouie  loa<l 
:iud  of  all  image  ofsla\erv."  .John:^oii  iuightwell  call  I'A.-onoiuy 
the  motluM'  of  Liberty.  No  man  ca!i  be  fi'(M^  who  is  in  debt. 
The  inevitaldo  eifect  oi' debt  is  not  only  to  injure  personal  iiuhs 
])endence,  but,  in  the  loug-run,  to  iuHiet  moral  degradation. 
'Ihe  (h^btor  is  exjiosed  to  constant  huuiiliatious.  .Men  of  honor- 
iib'le  }»rinci[>les  must  be  tlisgustecl  l)y  i»orro\viug  money  from  jter- 
sons  to  whom  they  can  not  ]>ay  it  back  ;  disgusted  \\ith  drinking 
wine,  wearing  clothes,  and  keeping  up  appearances,  with  other 
IK'Ople's  money.  'Y\w  K-\v\  of  Dorset,  like  many  other  young 
nobles,  l)ecanie  iinolved  in  debt,  and  ]»oi'i'o\ved  moiu^y  upon 
his  j)roperty.  il(>  was  cured  of  his  prodigality  1)V  tlu;  imperti- 
nence of  a  city  alderman,  wlio  h;!unte(l  his  aute-cliaml)er  ibr  the 
]>uri)ose  of  dunning  him  for  his  debt.  From  thai  day  tla^  earl 
(letiU'mined  to  economize,  to  kee}»  entii'ely  out  of  escry  body's 
debt,  and  he  kept  his  wor<l. 

Let  every  man  have  tlu^  fortitude  to  look  iiis  alfairs  in  the 
face — to  keep  an  account  of  his  items  of  income  and  (h'bts,  no 
matter  how  long  or  black  the  list  may  be.  lie  must  know  how 
lie  stands  from  day  to  day,  to  be  able  to  look  th(>  world  fairly  in 
the  face.  Let  him  also  inform  his  wife,  if  he  has  one,  how  li(> 
stands  with  the  woidd.  if  his  wife  lie  a  piMideiit  woman,  sh(! 
will  li(d}>  him  to  (H'onomi/e  his  expenditure,  and  enable  him  to 
live  honorably  ami  honestly.  No  good  wile  will  ever  consent 
t(i  wear  clothes  and  give  dinners  that  belong,  not  to  iier,  but  to 
lnT  shopdvct'jier. 

The  knowh'dge  of  arithmetic  is  ai>solut(dy  necessary  to  thosc^ 
who  would  li\e  within  their  means.  Women  are  especially 
ignorant  of  arithmetic  ;  tluiv  ai-e  scarcely  taught  the  sinndest  ele- 
ments, for  female  teachers  think  th.e  information  useless.  They 
prefer  to   teach  languages,    music,  dejKirtment,  the   use  of  the 


m 


j».i 


T! 


i-'ftl 


JJ«lll,ij;i".-«M<"-VM    ■-■iiB  |ii|^p^gnp»M.i.Miil«».i><-V.  ■■.■••«^' 


200 


Marriage. 


[chap.  XI. 


M.:.* 


pflohcs.  All  those  may  bo  im])ort;int.  but  tlio  first  four  rules  of 
iii-itlirnotic  wvo  Ix'tter  tlian  all.  I  low  can  tlicv  ooiiiparc  tlicir 
('xpcnditiirc  A\'itli  tlicii*  rec'ipis  williout  tlic  kuowlodixc  ot"  addi- 
tion and  subti'actioii  ?  irowcaii  tlx'v  kiH)>v  ])r('cisoly  what  to 
spend  in  rent,   or  clothini::.  or  food,   or  for  s('r\ice,   unless  tlicv 


know  the  \ahie  of  li^iin-es  ?      II 


()W    ( 


.in  t:i<'\'  ciHT 


t1 


ic  aceoinits 


of  tlieir  ti'adesinen  or  their  scrx  ants  ?     This  want  of  knowledge 
of  a,rithin('t  ie  is  the  eanse,   not  o'.dy  of  i^reat  waste,   lait  of  j,'ro;it 

1  position   lias  fallen  into  destitu- 


niisorv 


^[; 


niv  a  taniilv  oi  ^-ood 


tion  nierelv  Ix'causc  of  its  ignorance  of  tliis  liraneli  of  knowledge 


Y 


ouni;'  pfop 


le  oft 


en  rush  into  niarria:,!' 


V.  itliont  retleetion.      A 


youn,;.j   man    mt-ets  a  ])r<'tty   face   in  a  liailroom,    iilvcs   it.   dances 


"with    it.   flirts   with   it.   and 


{•■oes 


home  to  dream  about  it.      At 


len'^th  he  falls  in  love  with  it,  conrts  i(.  marries  it.  and  then  In 
takes  the  pretty  face  home,  and  begins  to  k'now  sometliin;;' mo 


about   it.      .\11    ha 


s    as    \('t    licen    "  \  (TV    lollv 


i>         rn 


riie:    face    li; 


IS 


Intherto  liecn  charmini;'.  :.;rac('ful.  artless,  .and  beautiful.  It  liiis 
now  to  enter  u|ton  another  sph.ere  of  life.  It  lias  to  be  seen 
niuoli  closer:  it  has  to  lu'  seen  daily;  and  it  has  to  begin  house- 
k^^epintf. 

Most  newly  mai-ried  people  reijnire  some  time  to  settle  quietly 
down  toi^ether.  K\en  those  whose  niarriecl  life  has  been  tlio 
]ia])p(es(,  arri\'e  at  |ieace  and  icpose  thi'ou!;h  a  period  of  little 
str''ij,'<j:les  and  bewilderments.  The  hnsb.and  does  not  all  at  once 
tirid   his   place,    noi-   the    wife   hers.      ( )ne  of  I  lie   \ery  happiest 


AV 


():nen    we  k'low  has  told  us    that    f! 


le    tic; 


veai'  of  lua-  mari'ieil 


life   was   the   most   iinconifoi'table  <»f  all.      She   had  so  much  to 
learn — was  s(»  feai-ful   of  doinu   wi-oni;-  - and  had  not  yet  fouml 
lier  pro|)er  position.      I'ut,   fe;'linu,'  their  way,   kind  and  loviiii,' 
natures  will  have  no   dillicuity  in  at  last  settlin;.!:  down  comfort 
jv))ly  and  peaceably  together. 

It  w;;s  nc.t  so  witli  the  sujiposed  yonni;"  man  an<l  his  jiretty 
"lace."'  i'oth  entered  upon  their  new  life  without  thinking',  or 
])ei'liaps  with  exatfirei-ated  expectations  of  its  unalloyed  happiness. 
Tliey  conld  not  make  allowances  for  lo\-ei's  siibsidini;  into  hus- 
band and  wife  :  noi-  were  tluy^  ]»repared  for  the  little  rutHos 
and  fr(>ttin|L!js  of  indivicbial  temjier  ;  and  both  felt  disappointed. 
There  was  a  reltixatiun  of  the  little  attcjitions  which  are  so  novel 


1  \ ' " 


VAIAP.  XI.] 


Happy  Temp^TH. 


201 


;mfl  ch.'u-rniiiii  to  lovers.  'I'licii  tiir  pvctty  face,  when  iief,']eet(ul, 
tbund  relit'l"  iu  tears.  TJiere  is  iiotJiiiig'  of  wliieJi  men  tire  soouei-, 
(>.s[)ecially  wlieii  tlit^  tears  jirc  nljout  trilles.  Tears  do  not  in 
sucli  eases  eause  sympathy,  bnt  l)reeil  r(^])ulsion.  'I'iiey  oeeasion 
soui'iiess,  lioth  on  the  oux- j.ide  and  the  nthei'.  Tears  are  dan<j;er- 
ous  \vea[»ons  to  phiy  wiih.  W'ei'e  wor.ieii  to  try  kinchie.ss  and 
ilicei't'uhiess  instead,  how  iidinitely  ha[>[)ier  wouhl  tliey  he  ! 
Many  are  the  lixcs  that  are  made  niiseraoh'  Ity  an  inthdi^enee  in 
h'ettinsj;"  and  oai'kinu',  until  the  eliaraeter  is  in(h'Iil»Iy  stamped, 
lUid  the  rational  enjo}nient  iti"  lite  heronies  next  to  a  moral 
iuipossii)ilit:y. 

Mental  (jualities  arc  eertaiidy  a(hniral>le  uifts  in  (htmestie  life. 
I'nt  though  tiiey  may  d,iz/Je  and  deliLi'lit.  they  will  not  exeite 
l()\e  anil  affection  to  any  thinu;  like  the  same  extent  as  a  warm 
iiiid  hajun'  lieart.  They  do  not  wear  half  so  wcdl,  and  do  not 
ulease  half  so  mueli.  And  yet  how  little  pains  ai'e  taken  to 
cultivate  the  heautit'ul  i[uality  of  good  tcuaper  and  hapjtv  dis- 
position !  And  how  often  is  life,  which  othei-wise  might  haxc 
lieen  hlessed,  ond»ittered  and  soured  l)y  thf  eneouragement  of 
peevish  and  tretlul  hal>its.  so  totally  dest ructix c  (»f  e\-ery  thing 
like  soeijil  and  lUniiestic'  comfort  I  I  low  oi'ten  ha\(^  Me  seen 
lieth  men  and  women  set  themsehcs  I'onnd  ahout  as  if  with 
l»ristles,  so  tlint  no  one  dared  to  ap])roach  them  without  the  feai' 
ot'lx'ing  ])i  ieked  '  I'or  want  of  a  little  occasional  command  (»\er 
one's  temjH'r,  ;in  amount  of  ndsery  is  occasioned  in  socictN'  which 
is  positix'ely  iVightfnl.  Thus  is  enjoyment  turne<l  into  bitterness, 
and  life  hecomes  like  a  journey  hai'ei'ooted,  among  prickles,  and 
thorns,  and  hriers. 

In  tiie  instance  we  haxc  cited,  the  pretty  face  soon  hccame 
toi'gotten.  r.ut  as  the  young  man  liaij  merely  hargainetl  for  the 
"face" — as  it  was  that  to  whi'-li  he  had  |»aid  his  attentions:  that 
winch  lie  had  \owed  to  lo\-e.  honor,  and  pi'otect-— when  it  c(  ased 
tit  he  ]»rettv,  he  Itegan  to  find  out  that  he  had  made  a  ndslake. 
And  if  tlie  home  he  noi.  made  attractive  if  the  newlv  married 
iiiim  Hnds  tliat  it  is  only  an  inililferent  hoardingdiouse  he  will 
;fi"iidually  absent  himself  from  it.  He  will  stay  out  in  the  c\-cn- 
iiigs,  and  console  himself  with  cigars,  cards,  politics,  the  theati'e, 
the  (Irinking-elul)  ;  and  the  poor  ]>r(»tty  face  will  then  het-ome 
more  and  more  disconsohite,  hopeless,  and  miserable. 


k 


■  miyiptppfwa  II  II 


202 


Iiesj>o)i,sthiltt!i's  of  M(irrin(/c. 


[CIIAP.  M. 


Pei'liii[is  (.'liildriMi  will  ,i;'l■<»^v  up;  but  ii(;il.lun- liiisbitud  Jior  wife 
know  miicli  ahoot  t..iiiiiii,<4"  tlK^n,  or  keejiiiii;"  tlicm  licalthy. 
They  are  j-egartleil  as  toys  wlicu  babies,  dolls  when  boys  and 
girls,  drudges  wlu'ii  youiiu'  iiicu  and  w.)iiien.  T])er<'  is  scarcelv 
a  qiaet,  happy,  hearty  liniir  sp(  at  duriiiL;' the  life  of  siuii  a  luck 
less  couple,  ^\^her<'  tlu-rt'  is  no  comfort  at  home,  there  is  only 
a  succession  of  petty  miseries  to  euilure.  Where  there  is  no 
cheerfubuss  no  disposition  to  accommodate,  to  oblicfc,  to 
svmi)athi/,e  with  one  another—  a.ifection  r;'r;vduallv  subsidies  on 
l)oth  sides. 

[t  is  said  that  '•  when  |)overty  conu'S  in  at  the  door,  love;  Hies 
out  at  the  window."  lint  it  is  not  tr<>m  poor  men's  houses 
only  thr.t  h)ve  tlies.  1 1  tlies  (juite  as  ot\en  from  the  homes  of  the 
rich,  wliei'c  there  is  ;i  want  of  lo\  in*;-  and  cheerful  hearts.  Tliis 
Httle  home  ndi^ht  liave  Iweu  sun;:,-  •'nou,uii  ;  with  no  ap[»earanc(' 
of  want  about  it  :  rooms  well  fui'iiished  ;  cleanliness  pevx  ,!:liui,' 
it  ;  the  ta.ble  well  su)>plied  :  the  tire  liuiiuny"  briyhtly  ;  and  yet 
without  cheerfulness.  There  wanted  the  i'-'l'p}  ''iC'es,  radiant 
with  conleiitment  and  ii'ood-hninor.  I'hysical  comfort,  after  all, 
forms  but  a  sinal!  [tart  of  the  blessin::>;  of  a  hap[»y  honte.  As  in 
all  oth.'i'  concerns  of  life,  it  is  the  moi'al  state  which  determines 
tlu^  weal  or  woe  of  the  human  condition. 

Most  younu'uien  think  vny  little  of  what  has  to  Ibllow  court- 
ship and  mai'riau'e.  They  thiid<  litth^  of  the  scM'iousuess  of  the 
stej).  They  lor,i;'et  tha.t  w  nen  the  jdeth^'e  has  once  )»een  g'ix'eii, 
there  is  no  turniii'.;"  back.  The  knot  can  not  be  untied.  If  ;i 
thou,u;iitless  mistaivi^  has  b^'en  made,  the  inevitidtle  rtisults  will 
nevertlu  ^  s  follow.  The  niiixim  is  curi'ent,  that  "  niarria.«;'e  is 
a  lotteiy."  It  m:iv  lie  so,  if  w(^  abjuic  the  teachings  of  prii- 
deni-e  ;  if  we  refuse  to  examine,  intjuire,  and  think;  if  we 
are  content  to  i-hoose  a  husliand  oi-  a  wife  with  less  relleetiou 
than  we  bestow  M|)on  the  hiiang  of  a  sei-vant,  wIk/IU  we  candis- 
charu'c  any  day  ;  if  we  merely  i-egard  attr.-ictions  of  face,  of  foi'ai. 
or  of  pui'se,  and  gi\-e  way  tt)  temporary  imi>uls(!  or  to  greedy 
avarice — then,  in  such  castas,  nan'riage  does  resemble  a  lottery, 
in  which  you  ii/ai/  diaw  a  pri/e,  though  there  are  a  hundrcil 
chances  to  onc^  that  you  will  only  draw  a  blank. 

iiut  we  deny  that  mariiage  has  any  ne(X'.ssury  resemblance  to 


lor 


^^^n 


[cllAP.  M.    ■  CHAP.  \j.]  The  Man  irI,o  couldnt  soy  ♦' ^Vo." 


'203 


1(1  Jior  wit't; 
u  licalthy. 
1  boys  ami 

is  scarcely 
ich  a  luck 
ci'c  is  only 
iuirc  is  no 

uMi^'c,    to 
■iuhsides  on 

r,  love  flics 
'ii's  liouscs 
)iucs  of  tlic 
arts.  This 
apiicaraucc 
i  |)'^»-^  iliui,' 
V  ;  au<l  vt'i 
;f\s,  radiant 
t,  after  all, 
ne.  As  ill 
(leti'rniiiH's 

)ll«»\v  court- 
ness  ot'  the 
been  given, 
tie.l. "  \\  a 
■esults  will 
marriage  is 

UgS  of    ])1'U- 

iik  ;  if  we 
s  reilertioii 
we  can  dis- 
co, of  j'o)'ni. 
to  greedy 
e  a  lottery. 
a  liundrcd 

'liiblauce  to 


a  Iott'*ry.  When  girls  .nre  taught  wisely  liow  to  love,  and  what 
(jnalities  to  esteem  in  a  coni|)anion  for  life,  instead  of  being  left 
to  gatliei-  their  stock  of  iniormation  on  tin'  subject  fi-om  th<^ 
Hctitiousand  <'enerallv  false  nersonations  (.--iven  to  tlieni  in  m)vels; 
ami  when  young  nn-n  accnstom  Iheniseb.'es  to  think  of  the  vij'- 
tues,  giaces,  and  s(jlid  a((|ui!('ments  requisite  in  a  wife,  with 
whom  tin'V  arc  to  spend  their  days,  and  on  whose  tem])er  and 
go' d  sensf  the  whoh;  ha])i>iui'-;s  of  their  home  is  to  dejjend,  then 


it    'ill  Ite  iound  that  there  is  \crv  little  of  th 


lottery    m  mar 


nage 


and  that,  like  aiiv  (■ou;-eii!  of  business  oi-  (jf  life,  the  man 
or  won  tan  who  judges  aiid  ;'cts  wisely,  with  ]»i(>iier  forr'sight  and 
(lisci'imination,  will  re;;))  (!>.  almost  certain  conse([uences  in  a 
liapj-y  an<l  ])ios}ierous  injure.  True,  mistakes  may  b"  made, 
and  will  Im*  mad*-,  as  ii'  ;'.Il  things  hu'iiui  ;  l)ut  nothing  like  the 
gi'icN'ons  n.'sLtik"  of  t;  ■;se  who  st:i;.<'  tlieii-  li;!])jtiness  in  the  vcu- 
t\U"e  of  a  lottcM'V. 

Anothe,   <,MC!;t  point  is.  to  Ix^  able  to  say    "Xo''  on  ])roper  oc- 
casions.     \\'lien   entic'-mciits  allure,  or  temptatioiKs  assail,  say 


'•No"    at    out  e,    resoiiicolv    and    detei'mine<llv 


Xo  ;     I    can't 


idford  it."  Many  ha\f  not  the  nn/i;;!  .'ooragH'  to  adoj)t  this 
(•<iui'se.  They  consider  only  tlieii  sellish  gratiiication.  'I'hey 
are  nnable  to  practise  self-denial.  'They  yield.  gi\{!  way,  and 
"  enjoy  tliemsehcs."  The.  end  is  often  defalcation.  ^Vam I.  and 
!uin.  What  is  llie  Ncrdict  of  society  in  siu-h  cases  {  " 'I'he  man 
ins  been  li\ing  lieyond  hi.-;  means."  <  H'  tliose  who  may  have 
Ih'.'u  entei'taiiH'il  !»y  him.  not  one  of  tluMu  will  thank  him,  not 
une  or   them  will  )>ity  him.  not  on(^  ol'  them  will  In'ljt  him. 

Kvery  <^ne  has  heard  of  the  man  who  couhlu't  say  '"  No."  Ife 
was  e\-erv  body's  friend  but  his  own.  1 1  is  W(trst  eiiemv  was 
himself.  He  ran  rapidly  through  his  means,  and  tneii  called 
upon  his  friends  for  bonds,  bails,  and  "promises  to  Jiay."  After 
s|M'nding  his  last  guinea,  he  died  in  the  odor  ot"  harmles.s  stupid 
ity  and  iblly. 

His  course  in  life  seemed  to  be  directed  by  the  maNiui  of  doing 
tor  ev(jrybodv  what  evervbod\'  a.sked  him    to  do.      Whether  it 
was  that  his  heart  bt  at  responsive  to  every  othei'  lieart,  or  that 
lid  iHjt  lil   "  to  give   ofhMise,  cmdd  never  be  nscertaiiM-d  ;   but 


1 
lie  ( 


cc 


itaiu  it  i;i  that  ho  was  rarely  asked  to  sign  a  recjuisitiun,  to 


iw ' 


;!.•>,; 


204 


The  Courmjc  to  Say  ''Xo,'' 


[chap.  XI. 


pi 


oniisc  ii  vole,  to  lend   iiuiKiv,  or  to  ijulorse  n  l)i]l,  that  he  did 


not  comply.  He  coul(hi't  say  "  No  ;"  and  th(;re  Avero  many, 
wlio  knew  him  \v(dl,  who  said  lie  had  not  tlie  moi'al  courage  to 
do  so. 

J I  is  fatlicr  left  liini  a  snni;-  little  fortune,  and  lie  was  at  once 
beset  by  pei'sons  waulin;;'  \\.  share  (A'  it.  Now  was  the  tiiiu;  to 
say  "No."  if  he  could,  hut  lu^  couldn't.  His  habit  of  yieldin<( 
had  l)eeu  formed;  he  did  nol,  like  to  be  boi'ed;  could  not  l)ear  to 


refu 


se 


cou 


Id 


not 


Uand 


inijiortunity 


ind   almost   invariahlv 


yielded  to  the  demands  made  upon  his  purse.  While  liis  money 
lasted  he  had  no  end  of  friends.  He  was  a  universal  referee — 
everybody's  liondsman.  "'.lust  si<;n  me  this  little  bit  of  })aper," 
was  a  reipiest  often  mad(>  to  lii)n  by  particular  friends.  '"What 
isitf  he  would  mildly  ask;  tbi-,  w  ith  all  his  sinijdicity,  he  })ride(l 
himselt  u])on  his  caution  1  Yet  he  nevcn*  refused.  ^Fhree  months 
after,  a  bill  foi-  a  rather  hca\y  amount  would  fall  due,  and  who 
should  1)(^  caUeil  upon  to  mak((  it  ^ood  but  everybody's  I'riend — 


tl 


le  man  who  cou 


ldn"t 


sav 


'N 


o. 


At  last,  a  malster,  for  whom  he  was  liondsman  -a  peisoii  with 
Avhom  he  had  only  a  nodding  ac»|uaintanc(>--  suddenly  came  ton 
stand  in  his  luisiness.  ruineil  by  heavy  specuhdions  in  funds  ami 


siiares ;  wliei; 


11 


le  man  w  ho  couldii  t  sav 


N 


o     was  ca 


lied 


unou 


to  make  good  tlu;hea\y  duties  due  to  the  crown.  It  was  a  hea\y 
sti'oke,  and  madii  him  a  pooi'  man.  Hut  he  n((\'er  gi'cw  wise. 
H(^  was  a  post  against  which  e\<'ry  needy  fellow  came  and  rublicil 
himself;  a  tap  from  which  excry  thirsty  soul  could  drink;  a 
flitch  at  whicii  excrx  luni'^ry  dog  had  a  ]>ull  ;  an  ass  on  which 
everv  need\'  ron'iie  must  have  his  ride;  a  mill  that  ground  evei'v- 


bod 


V  s  corn 


but  I 


lis  own  ;  in  short,  a,  '*<j'ood-heai'ted  fellow."  who 


couldn't,  for  the  life  of  him,  say  "  No," 

it  is  (>f  great  impt)rtaMC(>  to  a.  man's  pj-ace  and  well-being  that 
he  slaaild  1  c  able  to  say  "  No"  at  the  right  tim<>.  Many  arc 
ruined  because  they  can  not  or  do  not  say  it.  \'ici>  often  gains 
a,  footing  within  us,  because^  we  will  not  sunnnon  up  the  courage 
to  sa.y  "No."  We  (»ll'er  ourselves  too  oltcn  as  willing  sacrifices 
to  the  fashion  of  tln^  world,  hectiuse  we  have  not  the  honesty  to 
jironounce  the  little  world.  The  ducdist  dares  not  say  "  No,"  for 
lie  would  be  "int."     'i'he  Iteauty  hesitates  to  say  it,  when  a  rich 


i 


CHAP.  XI. 

lilt  \w  (lit! 
are  mtiny, 
•ounige  to 

as  ivt  once 
le  time  to 
>f  yicUliiig 
not  bear  to 
inviiriably 
liis  inuney 
1  reteree — 
]  of  piv])er," 
Is.    -Wliiit 
y,  lie  prided 
ii'ec  nuniths 
le,  and  wlio 
y's  Iriend — 

l»(!rsou  with 
y  eame  to  a 

1  funds  and 
called  npou 
was  a  iK'avy 

!j;rew  wise. 

and  nibbt'd 
d   drink  ;  a 

K  on  whieli 

mnd  every- 


CHAP.  XI.] 


^^Respectable  "  Funerals. 


205 


'II 


ellow 


,li 


WHO 


|l-hcin.«j;  tliaL 

Many  arc 

often  .iiain>^ 

1  the  eoura,y;t" 


I  liones 


ifiees 
tv  to 


''  No,"  for 
Iwheu  a  rich 


blockhead  ofFer.-i  her  his  hand,  bocau.je  she  has  set  hci'  auibition 
on  an  "establishment."  The  courtier  will  not  sav  it,  for  he  must 
smile  and  promise  to  all. 

When  pleasui'e  tempts  with  its  seductions,-  have  the  cour- 
aw  to  say  ''No"  at  once.  The  litiie  monitor  within  will 
approve  the  de(;ision  ;  and  virtue  will  bocome  stron.,'er  by  the 
act.  Whoii  dissi{)ation  invitt.'S,  and  offers  its  sjcret  pleasures, 
boldly  say  '"No."  If  you  do  not,  if  you  acquiesce  au'J  succumb, 
virtue  will  have  gone  from  you,  and  your  self-reliance  will  \\x\a 
received  a  fatal  shock.  The  lirst  timji  may  i-i.'quire  an  effort,  but 
strength  will  grow  with  use.  It  is  the  only  way  of  meeting 
temptations  to  idleness,  to  self-indulg-ence,  to  folly,  to  Ijad  cus- 
tom, to  meet  it  at  once  with  an  indignant  "  No."  There  is, 
indeed,  great  virtue  in  a  "  No,"  when  pronounced  at  the  right 
time. 

A  man  may  live  beyond  his  mciins  until  ho  has  nothing  left. 
He  may  die  in  debt,  and  yeb  "society"  does  not  quit  its  hoM  of 
him  until  he  is  laid  in  his  grave.  He  must  b,;  buried  as 
"society"  is  Imried,  lie  must  hive  a  fashiouable  i'uneral.  He 
must,  to  the  last,  l);'a.r  witness  to  the  [jower  of  ^\I.i"s.  (Irundy. 
It  is  to  please  hei'  thtit  the  funer;d  cloaks,  hat-banns,  .sca.i'fs, 
mourning-coaches,  gilded  lu^arses.  and  proi-essions  t>f  mutes  are 
hired.  And  vet.  how  wi)rthless  ami  extravagant  is  the  mum- 
mery  of  the  uiidertak(a''s  grief,  and  the  feigned  woe  of  the 
nmtes,  saulies,  and  }>lume-b(>ai('rs,  wlio  .are  paid  for  their  day's 
}KU'ade  ! 

It  is  not  so  mucli  among  the  wealthy  upper  elassrs  that  the 
mischiefs  of  this  usidess  and  expensive  mumuiei-y  art^  felt  as 
among  tlu^  middle;  and  working  classes.  An  exp(.msi\-e  fiuu!ral 
is  ludd  to  be  "respectable."  Middle-cl,>ss  )>(M)ple.  who  .'ire  strug- 
,<^ling  for  front  phices  in  society,  make  iin  eifort  to  rise  into 
the  region  of  unites  and  nodding  plumes  ;  and,  like  their  "  bet- 
ters," they  are  victimizeil  by  the  undertakers.  These  iix  tlu; 
fashions  for  the  rest;  "we  nuist  do  as  others  do  ;"  and  most 
l>eo[)le  submit  to  pay  the  tax.  They  arr.iy  themsiihes,  friends, 
aud  .servants  in  mourning,  and  a  res[»ecta.ble  funi'i'al  is  thus 
purcliased. 

The  expenditure  falls  lieavily  upon  a  family  at  a  time  when 
13 


it''     ■■■'    «.  - 

\\  'Ml 


ilvt 


in 


206 


Funeral  Extravarjance. 


[chap.   XI. 


m 


tluiv  aro  th(i  least.  aMo  to  Ix^ai-  it.  The  hi-cad-wiiiiicr  has  hccii 
taken  away,  ;ui(l  (3vei-ytliiii<j;  is  lefttotlu^  iiiulei'taker.  How  is 
H  wiH^telied  widow  in  thv  midst  of"  liei-  ;ii;()iiy,  of  liow  an;  oj-jdiaii 
c'liildrei)  d(;)H'ivod  of  the  pi'otectiiii;'  liiind  of  a  pari'ut,  to  hi,i,'^d(; 
with  a  tratU'smaii  al>outthe  clieiqieiiiii;:^  of  iiKniiiiiii^  suits,  hijick 
<^k)V(^>^,  woe|»ers,  and  the  otlier  iiiis(Mjd»le  '' triij)|)iiig.s  of  wo(^f" 
1(,  is  at  siK^li  a  iiioiiu^iit,  when  in  ihousands  ofeases  (!V(M'y  |)onnd 
and  every  sliilliniif  is  of  eonscMjuenee  lo  iIk.'  sui'\  i\ors,  tliat  the 
lilt!(!  ready  money  ihey  ciin  sciape  to^'t^ther  is  hi\  ished  without 
(jueslion  upon  ;i,  \idi;ar  and  extra vaifaiit  piece  of  ))ai,'eantfy. 
Wouhl  not  tiie  means  whi<-h  ha\e  heen  thus  foolishly  expeml- 
ed  in  payin,!.^  an  empty  hon<ir  t<»  the  dead  l»e  mnch  hetter  ap- 
]ilied  in  hein^  used  for  tln^  condoit.  and  maintenance  of  the 
]i\  in,!.;  I 

The  same   e\il  jtropa'^ates   itself   d(»wn\\ai(l  in   soeicty.      The 
workium'-chisses  sulfer  e(pially  with  the  uuddle  classes  in  propor 
tion  to  iheir  means.      The  a\era,i;('  cost  ol' a  tividesman's  funeral 
in  Kn^Iaiid  is  ahout  lifty  [lounds  ;  of  a  mechaidc's  oi"  lahoicr's, 
it  ranges  from  li\e  [)ounds  to  liiU  jmunds.      In  Scol,la,nd,  funeral 


expenses  are  c(Misi(|era 


Mv  1 


ower. 


Tl 


le  dissire  to  sc^cure  respect- 


d»le  interment  for  <le|iarted  relatives  is  a  slroii;;'  and  widely 
dilfused  feeling-  anion^'  the  lahorinj;- population,  and  it  does  them 
honor.  They  will  sul>scril>e  for  this  |)uipose  when  Ihey  will  lor 
no  other.  The  lar;.,fest  of  the  W()rkini;-men's  cluhs  ar«!  burial 
c'lul)s.  Ten  pounds  are  usually  allowed  for  the  funeral  of  a 
husltand,  and  live  pounds  for  the  funeral  of  a.  wife.  As  many 
as  lifteen,  twenty,  thirty,  and  c\en  forty  pounds,  arc  occasioii- 
a 
d( 


lly  expended    on    a.    mechanic's    funeral,    in    cases    wliei-e    the 


dcM'eased   lias   iteen    a   m(!mi)(M'  ol   se\(M'al    clul)S  ;  on    w 


•lul. 


■Iiicl 


1    or 


crsions  the  undci'takers  meet,  and  "settle"  hetween  them  their 
sevoral  shai'i's  in  the  performance  of  the  funeral.  It  is  not  uii- 
nsnal  to  insui'c  a  child's  life  in  four  or  li\»'of  these  hurial  cluhs; 
and  we  havi^  heard  of  a  casi^  whei'c  one  man  had  insui'ed  pay- 
ments in  no  fewer  than  nineteen  diU'erent  burial  cluhs  in 
Manchester  ! 

When  the  working-man  in  whose  fanuly  a  dc^ath  has  occurred, 
does  not  happen  to  be  a  member  of  a  burial  club,  he  is  still 
governed  by  their  exHmple,  and  has  to  tax  himself  seriovsly  to 


lAP.  XI. 


CHAP.  XI.] 


John  WesJcys  Will. 


207 


llow  is 
.  ()vi>liiin 

ts,  l>lack 

I'V  ])0\in«l 

that  tlic 

1  without 

M^rcaiitry. 

hcttcr  ii[»- 
co  of  tht- 

c^ty.     'H"' 
in  |troi)or 
i\'s  t'liuci'nl 
■  lal  (over's, 
lul,  fuuci'iil 
ri^  i-csjH'ct- 

dot' 


iiH-rai 


\v 


luMii  tlx'ii" 


\ni\l 


ll    clubs    in 


lis  ocn'urrt'u 


senovsl 


coinjily  with  the  usages  of"  society,  and  i^Im'  to  his  wile  or  child 
a  rcs[u'cta)(h'  funci-ah  Wlicniit  is  the  father  of  tJio  faiiuly  liiin- 
self  wlio  has  died,  the  c;tse  is  still  hariler.  rerhajis  all  tlu; 
sa,vin^s  of  his  life,  ai-e  sjKMit  in  ])i-ovidiii<j;  mournini^f  for  his  wife 
and  children  at  his  death^  Such  an  e\]»eiise.  at  such  a  time,  is 
ruinous,  and  altogether  unjustitiahle. 

Does  puttinij  on  i^arnuMits  of  a  certain  c()l(»r  c(»nstitiite  true 
tuoiu'ning  /  Is  it  not  the  In  art  and  thi'  atlections  (hat  mourn, 
ratlnn-  tlian  the  outsi<le,  raiinentf  iJiniiham,  in  speakiiii;-  of  (he 
primitive  christians,  says  that  "tlcy  did  not  condemn  the  notion 
af  i^oint;  into  a  mourning'  hal)it  for  the  dead,  noi-  yet  much  ap- 
[)rove  of  it,  hut  left  it  to  all  men's  liheily  as  an  in<liiiere)it  thiuif, 
rathei"  comniendin,!;'  those  that  either  omi(ted  it  wholly,  or  in 
short  laid  it  aside  again,  as  ai'tlng  more  according  to  the  hravery 
and  jthilosophy  of  a  Christian." 

John  Wesley  <li)'ected,  in  his  will,  tiiat  six  pool'  men  should 
ha\(!  twenty  shillings  each  for  carrying  his  body  (o  the  grave; 
"  for,"  said  h(\  "  I  )>avticularly  desire  that  theic  may  lie  no  lieaise, 
no  coach,  no  escutcheon,  nitponi]*,  except  the  tears  of  (hose  (hat 
l(t\(Ml  me,  and  ar*;  following  me  t(»  Ahiaham's  hosom.  I  solemnly 
adjin-e  \\\\  exer-utoi-s,  in  the  name  ()t'(»od.  imnctnallv  tool»sei-ve 
tli'is." 

It  will  he  verr  dillicult  to  alter  the  mourning  customs  of  our 
time.  We  may  anxiously  desii-e  to  do  so,  hnt  the  ustial  (piestion 
will  occur,  *'  What  will  people  say  I"  "'  What  will  (he  world 
say?"  We  in\'oluii1arily  shfink  hack,  and  play  the  eouard  like 
our  neighbors.  Still,  common  sense,  repeatedly  expressed,  w  ill 
lia\t.>  its  inlluence  ;  and,  in  com'se  of  time,  it  can  not  fail  to 
modify  the  fashions  of  society.  The  last  act  of  (^)ueen  Adelaide, 
hy  which  she  dispensed  with  (he  hired  mummery  (»f  nnder- 
takei's' grief,  and  the  (Mpially  charaeterisdc  re<pies(  of  Sir  IJohert 
IN'cl  on  his  dealh-hed,  that  no  ceremony,  noi-  pomp,  should  attend 
his  last  ohs(M|uies,  cannot  fail  (o  haxcdieir  due  elleti  upon  the 
tashionahle  world  ;  an<l,  through  them,  the  middl'  classes,  who 
iU'c  so  disposed  to  inntate  them  in  all  things,  will  in  course  of 
time  henelit  hv  their  examph'.  'I'liere  is  also,  wc  heliexc,  a 
growing  disposition  on  Aw  part  of  the  peojde  at  large  to  axoid 
\\\v  unnu'aning  displays  wc   refer  to  :  and  it  only    needs  (lie  re- 


i'     i;  1 


■'^1 


l^KJ^VIW)Nl|(W 


II 


208 


Funeral  Reform. 


[chap.  XI. 


Ill 

i 


peatecl  and  docidod  expression  of  public  opinion  to  secure  a  large 
measure  of  beneficial  I'eform  in  this  direction. 

Societi(n-i  hiive  already  been  established  in  the  United  States, 
the  members  of  which  undertake  to  disuse  mourning  themselves, 
and  to  di^c(iunten;vnc('  the  use  of  it  l>v  others.  It  is  only,  net'- 
haps,  ])y  association  and  the  po\v(M"  of  nund)ers  that  this  refoi-ni 
is  to  \w  accomj)lislied  ;  I'or  individuals  here  and  there  could 
scarcely  !»e  e.\})ected  to  make  way  against  the  deeply  I'oottid  [)it!- 
judices  of  the  community  at  large. 


1 


^^^::^^-^ 


CHAPTER  XIl. 


(JREAT    DKllTOKS. 

"  What  \vou1tl  life  be  witliDut  aritlmictii',  liut  a  .^ccnc  of  linrrors  ?  Ymi 
aregoinj^to  I'lmloi^in'.  tlic  city  of  debts,  in'opU'd  liy  nicii  wlio  iicvt'r  iiiidcr- 
stooU  aritluiH'tic. ' — Sydnkv  Smi'iii. 

"  Quand  on  doit  ct  (in'on  iie  pave  pas,  c'cst  coiiune  si  on  iic  devait 
pas. " — AiiSKN K  Hoi-ssAYi:. 

"  Of  wliat  a  liiilioiis  ]iro,Lr'.-iiy  is  debt  tlic  fatlicr  I  Wliat  lies,  wliat  iiican- 
iicss,  what  invasions  on  s(df-n'Np(  I't,  wliat  can's.  Avliat  donblc-dcalinL;  ! 
How,  in  dill'  season  it  will  carve  the  fianlc,  open  face  into  wrinkh's;  how- 
likc  a  knif  ,  it  will  stab  tlio  honest  lieai't."     I)<)n;i,.\s  JkihioM). 

"The  human  sjx'e.i.  s,  aecordinif  to  the  liest  themy  1  cun  foiin  of  it,  is 
eoniposcd  of  two  distinct  races,  thf  inrn  ir/n)  hitrrmr  ami  ihe  mm  ir/io  Irno'. 
To  these  two  original  diversities  may  be  I'cdnced  all  those  impei'tin"nt 
olassilieations  of  ( Idtiiic  and  Celtic  triiies,  white  m<'n,  lilack  men,  red  men, 
and  snchdike."     ('iiai!m;s  LA.Nni. 

I^^EOPLh]  do  not  know  vvlmt  trotiblcs  tlirv  mi'c  l)i'ewino;  for 
tluMnsclvcs  Avlicn  tln'v  rnii  into  dcld.  Il  docs  not  nnittcr 
ior  wlint  tlic  debt  is  iiu'tiircd.  It  Iiiiuns  like  a  millstone  round 
a.  man's  neck  niitil  In^  is  rolicvcd  of  it.  It  jircsscs  hkc  a  niiflit- 
niai'c  tipon  liim.  It  hinders  tli(>  weiidieino"  of  his  family.  It 
destroys  tlie  happiness  of  his  household. 

F^N'cn  those  who  are  in  the  reoulnr  receijjt  of  hu'^'e  incomes 
feel  ci'ippled.  often  for  A'eai's,  hy  the  incnhus  of  <hd»t.  \Veio;li(>d 
down  I>y  this,  what  ('ai\  a  man  do  to  saxc  — to  economize  with 
a  view  to  the  futnrc  of  his  wife  and  children  I  A  man  in  d(d)t  is 
disabled  from  insni'inu;  his  life,  from  insnrino;  his  house  and 
jfoods,  from  pultin<jj  money  in  the  )»ank,  from  hnyinvT  a  house  or 
a  freehold.  All  his  suri»lus  jrains  must  ^o  toward  the  payment 
of  his  debt. 

Kven  men  of  enormous  pro|)erty,  jj^reat  lords  with  vast  landed 
estates,  often  feel  themsi'lvi's  op|)ri'ssed  and  made  miseriil.)l(!  by 


i 


liii|: 


f       ■  ■■;  l' 


mmrik'M 


210 


Greatness  and  Debt. 


[chap.   XI 1. 


louds  (,.' (!('])t.      'I'licv  or  tlicii'  foict'jitlicrs   !i;i\iiiL;'  coutrafto"!   ex- 


tnivaiiiiiit  ha 


hits- 


sive  livi]i!x — honow  n 


I  taste  tor  <^ainltliiir;',    hoisc-racin^,  or  cxpei)- 


loiiev  oil  thcii-  estates,  and  tlie  l)\iv<leu  of 
(leht  remains.  Not,  ]»erha]is,  in  tla^  ease  of  strictly  entailed 
estates  -  for  the  aristoi-raey  have  contrived  so  that  theii' dehl.s 
.sliall  l»e  wiped  ont  at  their  deatli.  an<l  they  can  thus  gratify 
tlieir  speiidthril'l  tastes  at  the  expense  of  tlie  pid)lic — the  estates 
_i(oing  conii»arati\ely  iinWurdened  to  the  entailed  heii'.  lint  coni- 
pai'atively  \'v\\'  ai'c  in  the  position  of  the  ]»ri\i!eii('d  classes.  in 
the  case  oi'  the  majority,  the  deltts  are  iidierited  with  the  (>stat(\s, 
and  often  tlie  del.'ts  ai'c  mere  than  the  estates  ai'e    woith. 


Tl 


HIS 


it  linppeiis  thai  a  hiryc  part  of  ilie  lands  of    Mngland  are  at  this 
moment  the  j»roperty  of  moiti^a^^ees  or  money-lenders. 

The  L^rea test  men  ha'.e  heeii  in  del»t.  It  has  even  l>een  alleyed 
tiiat  gicatiH'ss  and  delit  liaxc  a  certain  relation  to  each  other. 
Great  men  liaxc  great  deltts  :  they  are  ti'usted.  So  have  great 
iiatiftns:  tliey  are  resp(  ctahle.  and  lia\e  credit.  Spiritless  m<Mi 
]ia\('  no  dehts,  neither  ha\ c  sjiiritless  nations  ;   nohody  will  ti'ust 

11  as  nations  in  debt  seiaire  a  widelv  extended 


tl 


lem. 


AF 


en  as  w( 


inu  manv 


interest.      Their   names  are   written  in  many  hoolcs 

lire  the  conjectures  formed  as  to  whether  they  will  pay     or  not. 

The  m:in  who  has  no  dehts  slips  through  the  world  t-omparatively 

unnotii-ed  ;   while  he  who  is  in  cNcry   Itody's  ])ooks  has  all   eyes 

iixed  upon  him.       II  is  health  is  incpiired  alter  with  interest  ;   and 

if  hi'  u'oes  Into  foicign   t-ountries,   his  retui'n  is  anxiously   looketl 

for. 


Th 


dil 


le  creilitor  is  usualh'  dehn. 


ted 


as  a  severe 


man,   with  a  hard 


visage  ;     while    the   dehtor    is   an   opendianded,    genei'ous   man, 
ready   (o   help   iind   entertain    every   Ixidy.      lie  is  the   oUject  of 


geneial  sym[»atliy 


When   (ioldsunth  was  dunned  foi'  his  mil 


score  and  arretted  for  the  rent  of  his  apjtai'tments,  who  would 
think  of  pitying  the  ndlk-woman  or  the  landlady  (  It  is  the 
man  in  deht  who  is  the  pronnnent  feature  of  tlu^  jtiece,  and  all 
our  symi)a,tliy  is  reserxed  foi-  him.  "  What  wer(^  yon,"  asked 
I'antagruel  of  ranruge.  "  witliout  youi' debts  ?  ( !od  ])resei've  me 
from  vwv  Iteing  without  them  !  J  )o  yiai  think  ther<^  is  anything 
divine  in  lending  or  in  crediting  otJKn's'l  No!  to  ow«(  is  the  true 
heroic  virtue  I " 


m 


lAP.   XII. 
ictt'il    fX- 

iv  expert - 
jiii'deu  of 
entiiiU'd 
irir  (lcl)ts 
IS  «4i"atity 
\\v  estatt's 
I  hit  coul- 
isses.     In 
hf  estates, 
th.     Tluis 
aie  at  tliis 

'eualle.U'etl 
•mil  olliei'. 
liave  j;reat 
•itless  men 
y  will  tnist 
y  i>NteU(le(l 

•vud  many 
IV     or  not. 

iparatively 

IS  all  eyes 
terest ;  ami 

,sly    U)oke<l 

witli  a  hard 
(M'ous  man. 
t)l>'H'('t  of 
"or  his  milk- 

wlio  wonlil 
It  is   llu' 
eee,   and  all 
yon,"  asked 

preserve  me 
>  is  anyilnng 
vv  is  the  triK" 


CHAP.  XII.] 


Seedy  Side  of  Debt. 


211 


■'i> 


Yet,  whatever  may  be  said  in  jjraise  of  debt,  it  has  nnquestioii- 
ably  a  very  seedy  side.  The  man  in  debt  is  driven  to  resort  to 
manv  sorrv  expedients  to  li\e.  lie  is  tlie  victim  of  dnns  and 
sheriff's  ol+icers.  l^'ew  ean  treat  them  with  the  indifi'erenee  that 
Sheridan  did,  who  ])nt  them  into  livery  to  wait  npon  his  guests. 
The  debtt>r  starts  and  grows  pale  at  every  knock  at  liis  dooi-.  Ifis 
friends  grow  cool,  and  his  i'(dati\es  shnn  him.  lie  is  ashamed 
to  go  abroad,  antl  has  no  eomfoit  at  home.  Fie  becomes  crabbed, 
moros<',  ;ind  (lueinlons,  losing  all  pleasnie  in  life.  H(»  wants  the 
]»ass)»ort  to  enjoyment  and  resjiect — money;  lie  has  only  his 
d(d)ts,  and  tln'se  make  him  snsj)eeted,  despiscid.  and  snid)bed. 
lie  lives  in  the  Slough  of  Despond.  He  f(>els  «!egraded  in 
others'  eyes  as  well  as  in  his  own.  lie  must  submit  to  imperti- 
nent demands,  whi jh  he  i-an  onlv  put  oil' bv  sham  excuses.  He 
has  ceased  to  be  his  own  master,  and  has  lost  the  independent 
bearing  of  a  man.  lie  secdcs  to  excite  ]'itv,  and  pleads  for  time. 
A  sharp  attonu-y  |>ounces  on  him,  and  suddenly  he  feels  him- 
self in  the  \  idture's  gri|)e.  He  tries  a  friend  or  a  relative ,  but 
all  that  he  obtains  is  a  ci^il  leer,  and  a  i-ool  repulse.  He  tries  a 
money-lender;  and,  if  he  succeeds,  lie  i;;  only  out  of  the  frying- 
j>an  into  the  lire.  h  is  easy  to  see  what  the  end  will  be — a  lile 
of  mean  shifts  and  expedients,  perhaps  ending  in  the  jail  or  the 
workhouse. 

(Jan  a  man  keep  out  of  debt  (  is  ther(>  a  jiossibility  of  avoid- 
ing tlie  moral  degriidation  which  accompanies  it  ^  (Viuld  not 
debt  be  dispensed  w  i(h  altogether,  and  man's  independence  pre- 
served secure  (  There  is  only  on*'  way  of  doing  this;  by  "living 
within  the  means."  rnlia|>pMy.  this  is  too  little  the  practice  in 
modei'n  times.  W^e  incur  debt,  trusting  to  tlie  future  for  the 
op))ortunity  of  defraying  it.  We  <':in  not  resist  tlu^  temptation 
tos|>end  money.  ()iie  will  have  tine  furniture  and  Vwc  in  a  high- 
rented  house;  another  will  liiivc  wines  and  a,  box  at  the  o)»eia, ; 
a  third  must  gi\t'  dinners  an<l  music  parties  —  nil  good  things  in 
their  way,  but  not  to  bi^  indulged  in  if  they  can  not  be  |>aid 
for.  is  it  not  a  shaltby  tiling  to  pretend  to  give  dinnei's.  if  tlie 
real  pai'ties  who  provide  them  are  the  butcher,  the  poulterer, 
and  the  wine-merchant,  whoni  y(ni  are  in  debt  to,  and  caix  not 
pay  i 


'!   i 


Ml 


Loan  Clubs. 


fcHAP.  Xtt. 


i 


A  man  has  no  business  to  live  in  a  style  wliioli  iiis  income  can 
tiot  sup})oi't,  or  to  nioi-t'4a.2;e  his  earniii<T;s  of  next  week  or  of  next 
year,  in  order  to  live  luxnrioiisly  to-day.  The  whole  sj'stem  of 
debt,  Vjy  means  of  wiiic-h  we  forestall  and  anticipate  the  future, 
is  wrori'/.  They  .are  almost  as  much  to  blame  who  give  credit, 
and  encourage  customers  to  take  credit,  as  those  are  who  incur 
debts.  A  man  knows  what  his  actu;il  position  is  if  he  pays  his 
way  as  he  goes,  lie  can  keep  within  his  means,  and  so  appor- 
tion his  ex])onditiirc  as  to  i-eserve  a  fund  of  savings  against  a 
time  of  need.  He  is  always  balanced  up;  and  if  he  buys  nothing 
biit  what  lie  pays  for  in  cash,  ho  can  not  fail  to  be  on  the  credit 
sidi;  of  his  household  ac(;ounts  at  the  year's  end. 

But  onc(!  let  him  C(^mui(m(?e  tlie  j)ractice  of  running  up  bills — 
one  at  the  tailor's,  another  :tt  the  dressmaker's  and  milliner's, 
another  at  tli(^  l)utcher's,  anotlier  at  the  grocer's,  and  so  on;  and 
he  ne\"er  knows  how  he  stands,  lie  is  deceived  into  debt;  the 
road  is  made  smootli  ami  pl(\asant  for  him;  things  How  into  the 
house  for  wliich  he  does  not  seem  to  pay.  I'ut  they  are  all  set 
down  auainst  him :  and  at  the  vear's  end,  when  the  bills  come 
in,  he  is  rea<iv  to  lii't  n])  his  iiauds  in  dismay.  Then  he  finds 
that  the  swc^et  of  tli(>  lioney  will  not  repay  for  the  smart  of  the 
sting. 

It  is  the  same  as  respects  the  })Ooi-er  classics.  Not  many  years 
since,  Parliament  ])assed  a  law  facilitating  tlio  est;U)]ishment  of 
small-loan  societies,  for  the  }).u'pos«^  of  heli)ing  small  tradesmen 
and  poor  peo))ie  generally  to  raise  money  on  an  emergency.  The 
law  was  at  once  j^onnced  u])on  by  the  luimerous  race  of  Graballs, 
as  a  means  of  ))u(ting  money  in  their  ])urs(!.  They  gave  the 
working-classes  facilities  for  ruiuiing  into  debt,  and  for  mortgag- 
ing their  future  industry.  A  ft!w  men,  desirous  of  making 
money,  wouM  foi-m  tljemselves  into  a  loan  club,  and  offer  sums 
of  money  ostensibly  at  live  j)er  cent,  interest,  repayable  in  we(ik- 
ly  installments.  The  laboring  peoj)le  (^agei'ly  availed  theniselvtis 
of  the  fa(d]ity  for  getting  in  debt.  One  wanted  money  for  "a 
spree,"  another  wanted  money  foi'  a  suit  of  clothes,  a  thii'd  for 
an  eight-day  clock,  and  so  on;  and  instead  of  saving  the  money 
beforehand,  they  prelenxul  getting  the  money  fnmi  the  club, 
kee])ing  themselves  in  dilHcidties  and  }toverty  until  the  debt  was 


!  T'.r 


CHAP,  xn.] 


Genius  and  Deht. 


213 


me  can 
3f  next 
stem  of 
future, 
credit, 
lO  incur 
)ays  his 
)  appor- 


paid  off.     Such   a  practice  is  worse  than  living  from  hand  to 
moutli :  it  is  living  upon  one's  own  vitals. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  how  the  partners  in  the  loan  club 
made  money.  Suppose  that  they  aiUanced  ten  })oundp  for  three 
months  at  five  per  cent.  It  is  re])ayal)le  in  wo^ekly  instalments 
at  ten  shillings  a  we(^k — the  repayments  commencing  the  very 
iirst  week  after  the  advance  has  be(>n  made.  But  though  ten 
shillings  are  repaid  weekly  until  the  debt  is  wi])ed  oil",  interest  at 
five  ])er  cent,  is  charged  upon  the  whole  amount  until  the  last 
installment  is  ])aid  off.  So  that,  though  the  nominal  interest  is 
five  i)er  cent.,  it  goes  on  iiicreasing  until,  duiing  the  last  week, 
it  reaches  the  enormous  rate  of  one  hundred  per  cent  1  This  is 
what  is  called  "  eating  tlu'^  calf  in  the  cow's  belly." 

Men  of  genius  are  equally  facile  in  running  into  debt.  Genius 
lias  no  necessary  connection  with  pi'udence  oi*  self-restraint,  nor 
does  it  exercise  any  infhuMice  over  the  common  ruh's  of  arith- 
metic, which  are  rigid  and  inflexible.  Men  of  genius  are  often 
superio)' to  what  Bacon  calls  "the  wisdom  of  business."  Yet 
Dacon  himself  did  not  follow  his  own  advice,  but  was  ruined  l)y 
his  improvidence.  He  was  in  straits  and  dithculti<'s  when  a 
youth,  and  in  still  greater  stiaits  and  diliiculties  when  a  man. 
His  life  was  splendid ;  but  his  excessive  expenditure  involved 
liim  in  debts  which  created  a  perpetual  craving  f'>r  money.  One 
day,  in  passing  out  to  his  antechand)(>rs,  where  his  followers 
waited  for  his  ap})earance,  he  said,  '•  I'e  seated,  my  masters  ; 
your  rise  has  been  my  fall."  To  sup[dy  his  wants,  l^acon  took 
Inibes,  and  was  thereupon  beset  by  his  enemies,  convicted,  de- 
graded, and  ruined. 

Even  men  with  a  special  g(>nius  foi-  finance  on  a  grand  scale 
may  completely  break  down  in  the  management  of  theii'  own 
private  affairs.  Pitt  managed  tht^  national  finances  during  a 
period  of  unexam])h'd  difliculty,  yet  was  himself  always  plunged 
in  de))t.  l.oid  (Jarrington,  tlie  ex  l>auk(!r,  once  or  twice,  at  Mr. 
Pitt's  request,  e.\amin(>d  his  houseliold  accoinits,  and  found  the 
quantity  of  butcher's  meat  cliarged  in  tii(»  bills  was  one  lunidr(Hl 
weight  a  week.  The  charge  for  sei'vants'  wages,  l)oard  wages, 
living,  and  household  bills,  exceeded  two  thousand  three  hun- 
dred pomids  a  year.     At  Pitt's  death,  the  nation  voted  forty 


til 


m 


■;i,''>S 


2U 


Fox  and  Sher'ulau. 


[chap.  XII. 


tliousHiid  pounds  In  sutisty  the  <l(iii;ni(l,s  of  Ills  ei-edltoi's  ;  yet  liis 
income  lind  never  l»een  less  tliaii  si.\  tlionsaiid  pounds  a  yeai- ; 
and  at  one  time.  \\\x\\  tlu^  \\ard(MisJiip  of  the  Ciiujue  T*orts,  it 
^v\ls  neai'ly  foui-  tlionsaiid  )»oiinds  a  yeai-  more.  Macaiday  ti'uly 
says  that  "  tiie  ehaiactci' of  IMtt  would  haxc  stood  hiyhei-  if. 
witli  tlie  disintci-esteitiiess  of  Pei-icles  and  l)e  Witt,  lie  liad 
nm'ted  theii'  dii;uitietl  frui^MJity." 

Iiiit  I'itt  l>y  no  I  leans  stood  alone  Lord  Melville  was  as  ini- 
tln'ifiy  in  the  niana^'ement  of  liis  own  alfaiis  as  ln'  was  of  the 
money  of  tht-  pid>lie.  Vn\  was  an  <'noinious  ower,  his  finaneial 
Riaxim  ll(';rl^•  that  a  uiaii  ncril  ucmt  v  ant  money  if  lie  was  will- 
iuif  to  pay  enoui.di  for  it.  i''ox  called  the  outci'  room  at  Almack's, 
Avliei'e  lie  hollowed  on  occasions  from  -Jew  leiah'is  at  exorltitaut 
Itremiums,  his  '•  J'-i-usalem  ('lianil)ei'."  Passion  for  play  was 
liis  yreat  \  ice.  ,nd  at  a  \c;y  early  a^c  it  in\ol\cd  him  in  del)t  to 
an  enoriii(»us  amount.  i(  is  stated  l>y  (}il)l)on  tliat  on  on(!  occa- 
sion Fox  sat  jilayinji,'  al  hazard  for  twenty  hours  in  succession, 
losini;  ele\'en  tliousand  pounds.  I5ut  dee]»  play  was  the  vice  of 
hiiuli  life  in  those  days,  and  cheatiny was  not  unknown.  Selwyn. 
alludini;'  to  Fox's  losse,-;  al  play,  called  him  Chailes  the  Mavtyr. 

Sheridan  was  i  he  hero  of  debt.  lie  li\t'd  on  it.  Thouj^di  lie 
leceived  larj^e  sums  of  money  in  one  wa.y  or  another,  no  one 
knew  what  hecameof  it.  foi  he  paid  nobody.  It  seemed  to  melt 
avv^ay  in  his  hands  like  snow  in  summer.  }le  s[»ent  his  fust 
wile's  fortune  of  one  thousand  six  hundred  jionnds  in  a  six  weeks' 
jaunt  to  I5ath.  Necessity  di'o\<'  liiu'.  to  literature,  and  )»erha|is 
to  the  stimulus  of  po\eity  we  <twe  ■•The  l\i\als'"  and  the  dramas 
Avhich  succeeded  it.  With  his  set  id  wile  he  obtained  a  i'orliuu' 
of  tiAc  thousand  pounds,  and  with  lifteen  thousand  pounds, 
wdnch  he  realized  liy  the  sale  of  Driiry  Lane  shares,  he  bought 
an  estate  in  Surrey,  from  which  he  wasdrixen  by  debt  and  duns. 
'J'he  remainder  of  his  lit'e  was  a  series  of  shifts,  so)iielimes  hi'il- 
liant,  l>ut  ofleiier  deniadini;',  to  raise  money  and  evade  creditois. 
'JViyloi",  of  the  ( )pera  house,  used  to  say  that  if  he  took  oU'  his 
Init  to  Slnu'idan  in  the  sticet.  it  would  cost  him  fifty  ])oimds; 
but  if  he  stop|.ed  to  spi^ik  to  him,  it  would  cost  a  hundred. 

One  of  Sheridan's  creditors  came  for  his  money  on  horseback. 
"That  is  a  nice  mare,"  said  Sheridan.      "Do  you  think  so?" 


CIIAP.   XII.] 


Sherkhiiix  f)i>hts. 


215 


'*  Yes,  indeed;  liow  d<>e.>  s\w  t  lot  f"  Tlie  ei-fiitoi'.  Ilallered, 
told  him  he  shoidd  see.  ami  iininediiitely  ]>iit  the  laaic  at  full 
trottiiiij  pace,  on  whieh  Siieridaii  to(»k  the  t)|)|»()rtuiiity  of  ti-ottiu*; 
nniiid  the  nearest  eoiiier.  1 1  is  (hms  wtadd  i-oiue  in  nundters 
each  iiioniini;',  to  eateh  Idiii  Itetore  lie  went  out.  They  \vei(> 
.shown  into  the  rooms  on  each  side  of  the  eiitranee-haU.  When 
Sheridan  had  breakfasted,  he  would  eoiiie  down  and  ask.  "Are 
those  doors  all  shut.  John  f"  and  on  l»ein,ii'  assured  that  they 
weie,  lie  inarched  out  deliherately  between  them. 

He  was  in  debt  all  round  -to  iiis  milkman,  his  grocer,  his 
baker.  an<l  his  butclier.  Sometimes  y\\y..  Sheridan  would  l>e 
kept  vvaitiii!.^  !'oi  an  hour  or  more  while  (he  serxants  were  l>eat- 
inif  up  the  neiijhborhood  for  cotfee.  binter,  ei^irs.  and  rolls. 
While  Sheridan  was  jKiy-niaster  of  tli*'  na\\,  a  butcher  one  day 
br(.>Ui;lit  a  Icl;'  of  mutton  to  the  kitchen.  The  cook  took  it  and 
clapped  it  in  the  pot  to  boil,  and  went  u|»  staii's  for  the  money  ; 
hut  not  I'cturninn'  the  butcher  coolv  iemo\ed  the  pot-lid.  took 
out  the  mutton,  and  walked  away  with  it  in  his  tray.  Yet, 
while  li\in^'  in  these  straits,  Sheridan,  when  invited  with  his 
son  into  the  country,  usually  went  in  two  chaises  and  four — he 
in  one,  and  his  son  Tom  followin,':'  in  the  other. 

The  <Mid  of  all  was  \er\  sad.  Im)!-  some  weeks  before  his 
death  he  was  nearly  destitute  of  the  nu'ans  oi' subsistaiice.  }Iis 
noble  and  royal  fi  ien<ls  hail  entirely  deseited  him.  Kxi'cution.s 
for  debit  were  in  his  house,  ami  he  passed  his  last  (hiys  in  the 
custody  of  Slu  riffs"  ollicers.  wJio  abstained  tVoni  c<inveyint,' him 
to  prison  mei(dy  Ix'cause  they  were  assured  that  to  remove  him 
would  cause  his  immediiite  death. 

'^riie  Cardinal  de  Itet/  sold  oil"  e\ frythin^-  to  pay  his  debt?-, 
hut  lie  did  not  recoNcr  his  liberty.  lie  described  the  perpetual 
iniL!,nish  of  his  del)tor.  He  e\en  preiericd  confinement  in  the 
Castle  of  N'incennes  to  beini;'  exposed  to  the  annoyance  of  his 
crculitoi's.  Mirabeau's  life  was  one  of  perpetual  debt;  lor  h(i 
was  .'I  drea<lful  spendthrii't.  The  only  mode  l>y  which  his  latlnM" 
c'oidd  keeji  him  out  ol'  the  scra|)cs  \v;is  by  obtainint;"  a  Ictfrc  ilr. 
cnc/tct,  and  ha\iny'  him  safely  imprisoned.  Though  Mirabeaii 
wielded  the  jtowcrs  of  the  st.ite,  when  he  died  he  was  so  jKtor, 
or  had  lieen  so  exfravagani,  thai  he  was  still  indebted  to  the 
tailor  for  his  weddint-snit. 


HiT- 


"!  ■,  m  wiiiiip>py>pw^wiw^ 


21C 


DehfS  of  Mm  nf  Snenre. 


[riiAP.  xii. 


Lainnrtine  ran  tlii"o\i:>h  half  a  dozen  fovtnnes,  and  at  tlie  end 
of  liis  life  was  "  sfMidini;  round  the  hat."  Ijamartine  boldly  pro- 
claimed that  he  hiited  aritliinetic,  "tliiit  negative  of  every  nolde 
thou'dit."  He  was  aeeordiiiLi-lv  di-iven  t<j  very  sliabbv  shifts  to 
live.  The  "Coni's  de  Litterature"  alone  brought  hini  in  two 
hundred  thousand  francs  a  year,  yet  the  money  ran  through  his 
hands  like  ((uicksilver.  His  del)ts  are  said  to  have  amounted  to 
three  millions  of  francs  ;  yet  his  style  of  liviui;  remained  lui- 
chanfi;ed.  One  of  his  «'nthusiastic  admirers,  havinij  stinted  hiiii- 
self  in  subscribiiiju;  towai-d  tlie  re-])urehase  of  the  Lamartinc 
estates,  went  into  a  lish-mon<j;er's  one  day  to  jnirchase  a  j)iec('  of 
turbot.  It  was  too  dear  for  his  means.  A  distiiii,niislicd-iookiii<,' 
})ersona,i,^e  entered,  jtaused  for  a  mctmcnt  l)efoi'e  the  turbot.  and 
without  (juestionini,'  the  )irice,  oi'dered  the  fish  to  be  sejit  to  his 
house.      It  was  M.  de  Lamartine. 

Webster,  the  American  statesman,  was  afflicted  with  impecu- 
niositv.  arising  from  his  carelessness  about  monev  matters,  us 
well  as  froui  his  e.\tra^■ai(ance.  If  we  are  to  believe  Theodore 
PjU'ker,  Webster,  like  l»acon.  took  ]»ribes:  "He  contracted 
debts  and  did  not  settle,  borrowed  and  yielded  not  a<,'ain.  Pri- 
vate money  sometimes  clove  to  his  hands ....  A  senator  of 
the  United  States,  he  v,,m  pevisioned  by  the  manufacturers  of 
Boston.  His  later  speeches  smell  of  bribes."  Monroe  and  Jef- 
ferson were  always  in  want  of  money,  and  often  in  debt;  though 
they  were  both  honest  men. 

The  life  which  ])ublic  men  lead  nowadays  is  often  an  incen- 
tive to  excessive  e\])enditure.  They  may  be  men  of  moderate 
means;  they  may  even  l)e  jujoi-;  but  not  many  of  them,  moving 


in  jgeneral  society,  have  the  n.oi'al  coui'a,<>e  to  ,see»i  to  be  so.  To 
maintain  their  social  position,  they  think  it  necessary  to  live  as 
others  do.  They  are  thus  drawn  into  the  vort(;x  of  debt,  an;l 
into  all  the  troubles,  annoyances,  shaldjy  shifts,  and  dishonest- 
ies which  debt  involves. 

Men  of  science  aic  for  the  most  part  exemj)t  from  the  neces- 
sity of  shining  in  society  ;  and  hence  they  fin'nish  but  a  small 
number  of  instances  of  illusti'ious  debtors.  Many  of  them 
have  been  poor,  but  they  have  usually  lived  within  their  means. 
Kepler's  life  was  indeed  a  struggle  with  poverty  and  debt;  aris- 


;1IAP.  XII. 


CHAP.  XII.] 


Debts  of  Artists. 


217 


ing  ))nncii)a)ly  from  the  circumstance  of  liis  salary,  as  principal 
mathematician  to  the    E.iipcror  of  (liTinauy.   liavini^   l»een  al- 


ways in  ari(!ar 


This  drove  him  to  castini;  uativiti 


to  earn  ;• 


■\\v^ 


I 


at  the  tloors  of  ciown   treasurer; 
twentv-two  crowns,  tiie  dress  h 


jiass  my  t'use,    lie  (jiiee  wrote,  "in  lieLTLCing 


es  in  order 
1. 


At  his  death    lie   left  only 


K'.  wore,  two  s 


hilt: 


tew   I 


looks. 


and  many  manuscri[)ts.  Leihiiitz  left  l»eiiiiid  him  a  lai^fe  amount 
of  delit;  hut  this  may  ha\'e  lieen  caused  l»y  the  fact  that  he  was 
a  politician  as  well  as  a  [ihilosopinn-.  and  had  frequent  occasion 
to  visit  foreign  «'Ourts,  and  to  mix  on  e([ual  terms  with  the  so- 
ciety of  th<!  great. 

S[)inoza  was  poor  in  means;  yet  inasnuu-h  as  what  he  earned 
hy  polishing  glasses  for  tht^  optiei.ius  was  enough  to  supitly  his 
wants,  he  incuri'cd  no  dehts.  lie  refused  a  professorship,  and 
refused  si  pension,  ])referring  to  live  and  die  independent.  Dal- 
ton  had  a  philosoidiical  disregard  for  money.  W  hen  his  fellow- 
townsmen  at  Manchester  once  [)ro[)osed  co  pro\  id(,'  him  with  an 
inde[)(;ndence,  that  he  might  (h'\ote  tin;  rest  of  his  life  to  seien- 
titic  investii^ation,  he  declined  the  otfer,  savin-'  that  "teaching; 
was  a  kind  of  recreation  to  him.  and  that  if  richer  he  would 
probably  not  s[)end  mor<>  time  in  his  investigations  than  he  was 
accustomed  to  do.''  Faraday's  was  another  instanct^  of  moder- 
at(!  nutans  and  noble  in<lepen<lence.  Lagrange  was  accustomed 
to  attribute  his  fame  and  happiness  to  the  poverty  of  his  father, 
tlu;  royal  astronomer  of  'J'urin.  "Mad  1  Imv  n  rich."  he  said, 
"probably  I  should  not  have  beconu;  a  mathi-Matician." 

The  greatest  debtor  connected  with  scienct;  was  John  Hun- 
ter, who  expended  all  his  .-ivailable  means  —and  tlu^y  wt're 
wholly  earned  by  himself — in  accumuliting  the  s[»lendi(l  colh;c- 
tion  now  known  as  the  Hunteiian  Museum.  All  that  he  could 
C(jllect  in  ft.es  went  to  purchase  new  objects  for  j)reparation  and 
di.ssection,  or  upon  car[»enters'  and  brick-layeis'  woik  for  tlio 
crecthm  of  his  gallery.  Though  his  family  were  left  in  strait- 
ened circumstances  at  his  death,  the  sale  of  the  collection  to  the 
nation  for  fiftt^en  thousand  j)ounds  enabled  all  his  debts  to  be 
paid,  and  at  the  same  time  left  an  enduring  monunumt  to  his 
fame. 

Great  artists  have  nearly  all  struggled  into  celebrity  through 


i^ 


?i  vr 


I     't'Ki 


h 


218 


Italian  A  H ists —  f/ai/don. 


CHAP.   XII. 


P 


.1 


)()V('rt\',  niid  soiiK^  li:i,\«'  ucxcf  cuiummv  ciiit'i 


tj^cd  f 


roiii  it.     TliiV 


111 


liowcncf,  li:is  l)iH'ii  iiiniuly  hcc-ausc  ol"  tlicir  iiiijirovidiiiK-c.  ,] 
St(!('U  was  ill  wax  s  in  distress,  aiisini;'  priiu-ipally  iVoiii  l\\v  liahit,  lu; 
liad  acijuircd  oK  drinkiii'^'  Ids  own  hccr;  tor  \\v  was  lirst  a  l>r('\v<'r 
and  afterwards  a  ta\ ''iiikeepe;-.  lie  drank  and  paiiit,ed  alter- 
nately, soniet lines  traiistei'rin^'  (lie  drinking;'  scenes  of  wideli  he 
liad  lieeii  a  witness  to  the  i'an\as.  e\cn  wliih'  hiniself  in  a.  state 
of  intoxication.  He  died  in  del»l,  after  which  his  |tictur(,'s  r 
ill  value,  until  now  ihey  are  worth  their  weit;lit  in  ,L;'old. 

Notwithstanding-  the  lar;^e  ineomc  of  \'aiidy<"k,  his  style  of 
li\in,i^  was  so  spleiu'id  and  e(»stiy  as  t(i  iii\(>l\e  him  in  hea\v 
<l<!l)t.  To  re|tair  his  fortunes,  he  studied  alelieni\  for  a  while, 
ill  the  hojie  (>f  discoxci'ini;'  the  philosojiher's  stone,       IJut  toward 

led  to  ictrie\e   his  jiositioii.  and 


lose 


th 


M^  end  of   hi.s  lite    he    was   eiial» 


to  lea\("  a  cdinforlalile  coni|>e(eney  to  his  widow.  IveinltraiKU, 
on  the  other  li.ind.  imohcil  himself  in  deitt  throiiyh  his  Io\-e  of 
art.  He  was  an  insatiaJile  collector  of  dra.win;4>;.  armor,  and 
articles  of  r/V///.  and  thus  hecaiiie  inNoKcd  in  such  dilli<ailties 
that  lie  was  declared  ;i  l»anl<rn|>l.  His  property  remained  under 
leyal  eontiol  for  thirteen  \c,irs.  until  his  death. 


The  y'reat    I  talian  artist.' 


w  ere  to 


r  (he  most  |tar(  temperate  and 


moderate  men.  and   li\ed    within   thcii'  means.      Ilaydon,  in  his 
.\ntol»ioura|»liy,"    says     "  Kall'aelle.     Michael     An,<;'elo,    Zeiixis, 


111.  were  rich  aiui  iiaitiiv 


Wl 


IV 


Ai»elles,  Kiiltens.  IJeyiiolds,  Tit  i; 
J'ooanse  with  their  ncnins  t  hey  coniliined  practical  prudence.' 
Haydon  himself  was  an  instance  of  thecopirary  practice.  His 
life  was  a  prolonged  strii'j;!.de  with  diliiiailty  and  del»t.  Hi'  was 
no  sooner  free  I'rom  one  o!)li;.';ation  than  he  was  iiiNohcd  in 
another.  His  ".Mock  l^jlection"  was  painte(l  in  the  Kini^'s 
r>encli  prison,  while  he  lay  there  for  deUt.  There  is  a  stra.iii;!', 
entry  in  his  journal  :  "  I  liorrowcd  ten  pounds  today  of  my  l»ut- 
ter-man,  \Vel»l»,  an  old  pn|»il  of  iiiin(>,  recommended  to  nie  hy 
SirOeorye  lieanniont  twenty  tdnr  years  ayo,  hnt  who  w  is(>ly, 
aiter  di'awinij;  hands,  set  up  a  /iiif(ir-s/n>/),  and  was  enalded  to 
HiMid  his  old  master  ten  piainds  in  his  necessity."  Haydon's 
"  Autol)io,nra|ihy"  is  full  of  his  contests  with  lawyers  and  sheritl's' 
oHieers.      ( 'reditoi'S  doyjied  and  duniHMl  him  at  e\ei'y  step.     "  La- 

as   [tainted    just  after  an   arrest; 


/ariis  s 


head, 


he   wriU's, 


w 


CHAP.  XII.] 


The  Old  Poetff. 


219 


KiK'lcs  was  tiiiislicd  iVoiii  a  iiiin  in  po.sscs.^ioii  ;  \\w.  l)oa.utit\iI 
face,  ill  Xciioplioii  in  tlic;  ai'tcnioon.  atlci-  a  iiioniinu;  s[)<Mit,  in 
lu'gt^itiij  iiKM'cy  of  lawyei's  ;  jukI  ( 'assaiidra's  head  was  tinislicd  in 
MHony  not  to  be  described,  and  licr  liaiid  coniplrtcd  at'tci-n  hrolccr's 
man  in  possi'ssion,  in  an  fxrciitioii  put  in  lor  tuNfs." 

('(i\v|i«'r  nscd  to  say  thai  iic  iicmm'  l-jirw  a  jxM-t  \sli<»  was  not 
thril'tlcss;  jindlic  iii('liid<'d  liimscir.  N'ot  withstand  in;.:;  Iiis  (|iii(ft, 
rctiicnl  lite,  \\v.  was  constantly  ontrnnnin-^  tin;  (-(jniitahlc.  "I>y 
th(!  liclj)  of  <;'ood  inanaL(<'!iicn( ."  lie  once  \s  rott',  'and  a  clcai' 
notion  of  ccononiicMl  maUcrs.  I  conlrixcd  in  tli'-cM  months  to 
.s|uind  the  inconn'of  a  twchc  iiKiniii.''  lint  thon^li  tlie  nninbcr 
of  thril'tlcss  poets  may  he  ^rcat,  ii  isiiist  no(  In-  fiii-;j,(,(  ton  that 
Shakspcai-c,  wlio  stands  at  (h<"  h<'ad  of  the  list,  was  a  |>rnd»'nt 
man.  I  lo  ccononnzt'd  his  means,  and  left  Ids  fandly  in  comtorl. 
His  contcniporaiies  were,  lidweNcr.  tor  the  most  part  indehted 
men.  ^\v\\  .Jonson  was  often  eml»an;issed,  and  always  p<»oi', 
Itori'owinij  twenty  shillinus  at  a  lime  tVom  lleiislowe;  tiioiii^h 
lie  rarely  denied  himself  aimt  her  jollv  ni<j,lil  at  The  Mermaid. 
Missin.;('r  was  often  so  i'erln<-e(l  in  eiicunist-aiiees  as  not  to  \)V. 
iihle  to  juiy  his  score  at  the  same  ta\eni. 

(Jrcene,  Peele  and  Marlowe  liscd  li\cs  ol' dissipation. and  died 
in  poNcrty.  Marlowe  was  killed  in  a  drniiien  Itrawl.  When 
(Jrcene  was  on  his  death  lied,  dyinu'  el'  the  disease  whii  h  his  ex- 
cesses had  cans(Ml,  he  was  haunled  l>y  the  dehl  of  (en  |iouiids 
which  he  owcmI  to  the  shoemaker  who  had  lod'^ed  him.  Ho 
then  wai'ned  his  tViend  l*eei(;  to  anu-nd  his  wa\s  ;  l»nt  I'eele.  like 
liim,  died  in  distress  and  del»t,  one  of  (he  las!  letters  he  wrote 
I'linijan  imjilorintj  letter  to  llnrlei^h  asking'  for  relief  "  Loni^ 
sickiu'ss,"  said  he,  "  lia\  in<;- so  enfeeliled  nn- as  maketli  hashfid-. 
uess  almost  iinpudemy."  S[ienser  died  forsaken  and  in  want. 
l!en  donson  says  of  him  that  "  he  dietl  for  lack  (»f  bread  in  \\\\\iS, 
Street,  and  refused  tweidy  hroad  pieces  sent  (<i  him  liy  my  lord 
nf"  Kss(^\,"  adding,'  "he  was  sonic  Ik;  had  no  (inu^  to  s|>end 
dicm  " 

Of  later  poets  and  literary  men,  Milton  die<l  in  oltscnrity, 
(hough  not  in  (hdit.  Lov«>lacc  died  in  \x  cellar.  I»ntlei\  tim 
iiuthor  of  "  Hndibras."  died  of  starvation  in  Rose  .Alley,  tho 
same  phuu^  in  which  Drvden  was  Iteaten  h\   hired  laitlians.     (U- 


220 


i 


Sarxge  and  Johnson. 


[chap.  XII. 


way  was  hunted  by  bjiililis  to  liis  last  liiiling-place  on  Tower 
Hill.  His  last  act  was  to  be.'jj  a  shilling  of"  a  gentleman,  who 
gave  him  a  guinea  ;  and  huyiiig  a  loaf  to  appease  his  hunger,  he 
choked  at  the  first  nioutlit'ul.  NVych(!rley  lay  seven,  yetirs  in  jail 
for  debt,  but  lived  to  dii^  in  his  bed  at  ne^nly  i-ighty.  FieKling's 
extra',  aganeci  and  dissi])ation  in  early  life  in\olv(,'d  hiui  in  diiii- 
culties  which  he  ne\(!r  entirely  sho(.)k  off,  an<l  his  death  was 
imbittered  i)y  the  po\erty  in  M'hich  he  left  his  widow  and  child 
in  a  foreign  land. 

Savage  had  a  pension  of  fifty  jtonnds  a  year,  which  he  usually 
spent  in  a  Ww  days.  It  was  tlu  n  fashionable  to  wear  scarlet 
(doaks  trimmed  with  gold  lace;  and  »Jolins(in  one  day  n\^'t  him, 
just  after  iii^  liad  got  his  pension,  with  one  of  these  cioaics  upon 
liis  back,  while  a,t  tluf  saJiie  time,  his  nakcil  tocjs  were  stickiuif 
through  his  slx^es.  After  li\ing  a  life  of  recklessness  and  ilissi- 
pation,  h(5  died  in  prison,  w  her(^  he  had  lain  six  months  for  debt. 
In  concluding  his  '•  Jiife  of  Sa\ag(!,"  Johns(jn  says  :  "  This  rela- 
tion will  not  be  wholly  without  its  use,  if  those  who,  in  confi- 
dence of  su[»erioi"  capacities  or  attainnnoits,  disn^gard  the  coiii- 
inon  nmxims  of  life,  ;sliall  be  reminih^d  that  nothing  will  supply 
thi^  want  of  pruduce  ;  and  that  negligence  and  ii-regularity,  lomr 
continued,  will  mak(!  knowledge  usehsss,  wit  ridiculous,  and 
genius  contem[>tibK!." 

Stenui  died  jioor,  if  he  did  not  di(!  insoh'ent.  A^  his  death,  a 
subscri{)tion  was  got  uj*  for  the  su[>[>ortof  his  wife  and  (hiughtcr. 
Churchill  was  imprisoned  for  del)t,  occasioned  by  his  di.ssolutc- 
uess  and  extravagance — Cowper  characteri/ing  him  as  "spend- 
thrift alik(!  of  niomn'  and  of  wit."    ( 'hatterton,  reiluced  to  a  st; 


ilU' 


of  starvation  and  despair,  jtoisoued  himself  in  his  eighteenth 
year.  Sir  Richard  Steele  was  I'andy  out  of  d(d)t.  in  many 
res{)ects  he  resembled  Sheridan  in  tem[)eranient  and  cha,racter. 
He  was  full  of  speculation,  and  was  always  on  the  point  of  soint> 
grand  sti'oke  i)f  luck  \vhi(di  was  to  make  his  fortune,  lie  was 
]»erpetua!ly  haunted  by  duns  and  bailill's;  yet  he  lUd  not  stint 
himstdf  in  luxuricvi  so  long  as  h(3  obtained  credit.  When 
appoiut«Hl  to  tlie  olHcre  of  commi.ssionei  of  stamps,  with  ii 
iuod(;rate  inconu',  lu^  set  up  a  carriage  with  two  and  sometimes 
four  horses ;  and  he  maintained  two  iiouses,  one  in  London,  tho 


TfWI 


HAP.  XII. 


CHAP.  XII.] 


Goldsmith's  Debts. 


221 


in  Tower 
nan,  who 
uii.u'f'V,  he 
a-s  in  jail 
b'it'lvlhri's 
u  ill  diiil- 
l(>ii(li  ^\ils 
and  ell i 111 

he  usually 
ydv  scarlet 
r  n<4;t  hiui, 
loaks  upon 
i-o  stick  in :j; 
i  aiul  tlissl- 
iis  toi'  debt, 
•  This  i-ela- 
lo,  in  couti- 
•d  the  coui- 
|\vill  supi'ly 
lai-ity,  loiv,; 
ulous,   and 


Ins  ( 


leath, a 
d  dau!:htcr. 
dissolulc- 


a,s 


siieiK 


n 


d  to  a  stall 
diteentl 


el: 


1 


n   nii'.uy 


ll  eha.raen'r, 
lint  of  sunn 


111 


was 


d  not  stint 

llit.     When 

i)S,    with  a 

soiuetimes 

Ion,  tl 


iOUO 


U) 


other  in  Hampton.  His  means  heing  ultogother  inadequate  to 
this  style  of  living,  he  soon  became  drowned  in  greatod  dei)t  than 
before.  He  was  repeatedly  impounded  l)y  lawyers,  and  locked 
up  in  sponging-houses.  J'].\ocutions  were  put  into  his  houses,  his 
furniture  was  sold  olf ;  liis  wife  waut.^d  the  eomiuonesL  neces- 
saries of  life  ;  and  still  the  [)leasuredoviug  yteele  maiut;iincd  ]ii.s 
equanimity  and  good  temper.  >Something  givat  was  always  on 
the  point  of  tinning  up  in  his  f;i\'or.  One  of  his  grandest 
schenu's  was  that  for  l)ringing  iish  alive  to  tiie  London  market; 
"and  then,"  said  Im  to  his  wife,  ''you  will  be  better  provided 
for  than  any  lady  in  England."  But  the  good  turn  never  came 
to  Sir  Richard  ;  and  he  ilied  out  at  elbows  on  ]\is  wife's  little 
property  in  Wales. 

Goldsmith  was  another  of  the  happy-goducky  del>tors.  He 
swam  in  debt.  He  was  no  sooiK-r  out  of  it,  than  he  was  j>lunged 
into  it  again.  dee])er  than  V)efore.  Tlie  lirst  money  he  earneil  as 
a  tutoi' — it  was  all  the  )o.)uey  h"  li;.d--',vas  spent  in  Ituying  a 
horse— his  relations  rai.sed  lil'ty  pound.;,  and  sent  liiiu  to  the 
Temple  to  study  law.  but  he  got  no  fartlier  thiMi  Dublin,  where 
he  spent  or  «'aml»led  awav  all  the  monev.  Tiuui  he  wcmt  to 
Edinburgh  to  study  medicine,  and  was  forcl  to  fly  from  it, 
having  become  suretv  i'or  a  friend.  I[e  started  on  tin;  tour  of 
l^uroiie  without  any  niuney  in  his  j)o:'ket  —with  nothing  but  liis 
tlute;  and  he  begged  and  !»layed,  until  he  came  back  to  l*higlanil, 
as  pool'  as  he  went.  Ke  himself  ust>d  aftcrwaid  to  say  that  there 
was  hardly  a  kingdom  in  JMu'ope  in  winch  In^  was  not  a  debtor. 

Even  when  (roldsmitli  beg;\n  to  e;irn  money  freely,  he  w.is 
Htill  in  d(d)t.  He  ira.ve  away  with  one  h:i,nd  what  he  earned  with 
the  other.  Wv  was  duniu'd  for  his  milk-score,  arrested  for  rent, 
threateiUMl  by  lawyers,  l»ut  neviM-  leaiiu'd  the  wisdom  of  economy. 
Jii  ti;e  same  month  in  which  th"  scond  eilition  of  his  "  Vii-ar 
of  Waketield  "  was  )>ublishiMl.  his  bill  of  tiftecn  guineas,  drawn 
on  Newbury,  was  retunnMl  dishonored.  Wnien  he  was  tigtu'ing 
at  Jioswell's  dinner  in  Old  IJond  Sti'cec  in  the  "ratieen  suit 
lined  with  satin,  and  bloom-colored  silk  breeches."  the  clothiiS 
l)elonged  to  his  tailor,  and  remained  unitaid  until  his  de.ith. 

rros|)erit\  increased  his  ditliculties  ratiier  than  diminislusl 
tlium  ;  the  more  money  ho  had,  the  more  thoughtless  ami  lavish 


14 


I  [J 


.J  W  -i 


Goldsmith^s  Debts. 


[chap.  XII. 


was  his  exponditm-e.  lie  could  refuse  no  iiulul»^ence,  eitlier  to 
liinis(!lf  or  otliers.  He  would  Ixn-row  :i  i^uiiiea  and  i^ive  it  to  a 
Ije^jjjar.  IFe  would  if\\<'  the  clothes  oil'  his  l)ack  and  tlie  bhud^ets 
otl'  his  bed.  He  could  refuse  nol)ody.  To  nie('t  his  thoughtless 
exiKuiditure,  he  raised  money  by  promising  to  write  books  which 
he  nevcn-  l)eg;in.  if?  was  per[)etually  discounting  to-morrow, 
and  moitgagiug  an  estate  idi'eady  oxei'burdi'ned.  Thus  he  died, 
as  he  iiad  btsgun,  ]ioor.  eud)iiri'assed.  ;ind  in  debt.  At  hisdcatli 
he  owt'd  over  two  thousand  pounds.  ''  Was  (!\er  poet,"  says 
Johnson,  "so  trusLrd  l)efor(^?" 

The  cas(^  of  (loldsnutli  and  otliers  has  bis'n  cited  as  instances 
of  the  iiai'sh  tri'atnient  of  genius  by  the  world,  and  in  jii'oof  of 
the  social  disa,l>ilities  (•("  literary  men  and  artists.  Jt  has  lieeu 
held  that  society  sliouhl  be  more  indulgent  to  its  men  ofgi;nius, 
and  tha,t  (.lovernmcnt  shouhl  do  sonKithing  mor(>  for  them  than 
i(;  now  do(!S.  I  bit  nothing  that  society  or  Government  could  do 
for  incni  of  g(Uiius  would  l)e  likelv  to  ])ro\-e  of  any  sei'vicc^  to 
tluMii,  unless  thev  will  do  what  othei'  and  less  mftMl  men  do — 
ex'hibit  self-res[)ecl-  and  ]tractice  oi-dinary  economy.  W«>  may 
])ity  ])ooi'  (joidsmitli,  hut  wc;  can  not  fail  to  s(n'  that  1m^  was 
throughout  his  own  enemy.  His  gains  were  large,  amountiii|i,' 
to  about  eight  thousand  pounds  in  foui-teen  years  ;  i-e^iresenl^^.i,' 
a.  much  larg(M"  sum  of  money  at  the  pi-esentdav.  lAir  his  "  Ifis- 
tory  of  Ihe  !*]arlh  and  Animated  Nattiri'"  he  r(^cei\-(;d  eight 
hundre(l  and  iifby  ])ounds  ;  and  the  book  was,  at  best,  but  ii 
clover  ('om[»ilation.  .Johnson  said  of  him  tliat  "  if  he  can  tell  ii 
hors(^  from  acow,  that  is  tla^'xtentof  his  Unowledgo  of/oolog^•." 
The  re})resentation  of  his  '*  (h)od  iiatured  Man"  produced  him 
rive  hundred  pounds.  \\n\  so  on  with  his  other  works.  lb' 
was  as  successful  as  Johnson  was;  l)ut,  then,  ho  had  not  John- 
son's sobriety,  self-restraint  and  s(df-resj>ect. 

Yet  Cloldsmilh,  in  his  Ihougldful  moments,  knew  the  I'iglil 
path,  though  he  had  not  the  coui'age  to  pursue  it.  fn  a  letter 
to  his  brother  ll(^nry,  respecting  thecarei'r  ol"  his  son,  (loldsndtli 
wrote:  "Tcsach,  my  dear  sir,  to  youi- son,  thrift  and  <'(!ononiy. 
JiCt  his  p(»or  wandering  unchi's  example  l)e  placed  befor(!  liis 
eyes.  1  had  !earn<M|  from  boolcs  to  \n\  ilisintei'cstcMl  and  gener- 
ous befoii'  I  was  taught  from  e\peri<'nce  the   necessity  of  l>eiin,' 


fflf! 


.r.  XII. 


ther  to 
it  to  a 
)lanl<t'ts 
U!j;litli'ss 
:s  wliu'li 
morrow, 
;  lie  iVu'd, 
Ills  (loath 
I't,"  says 

iiistancos 
I  |iiooi'  ot 
has  lioen 
of  gouins, 
lu'in  tliaii 
it  ooiilil  do 
s(}vvi(.'0  to 
lui'u  do— 
\Vo  may 
it  Uo   Nvas 
iHiouutint;' 
jnvson*:'  'ij; 
Lis  "  His- 
.ivtnl   eiglit 
t,  l>»>t  a 
toll  a 


CHAP.  XII.] 


Bi/rotbn  JJi'hti 


223 


)OS 


t'  can 

oi"  /.oiiUmy." 

lucod  Uiai 

;()vkH.      He 

|l  not  .John- 

tho  \-\'M 


\\\  a 
(lo 


U'ttcv 


Ulsmitli 
,1  (HionoiHV. 


Ix't'oro 


l.iH 


ity 


iinl  golifi'- 


pvudout.  1  had  contracted  the  lial>itK  and  notions  of  a  philoso- 
jdier,  while  I  was  ex})osill^•  myself  to  tlie  insiduons  upproaelies 
of  cnnning;  and  often  by  heiny',  even  witli  my  narrow  iinancos, 
charital)le  to  oxcess,  J  forgot  tlie  lailes  of  jnstiec,  and  |)lac(Ml 
mvs<'lf  in  th<'  very  situation  of  tlie  wretch  who  thanked  me  for 
my  hounty." 

Byron  had  scarcely  reached  manhood  wlion  he  hecame  involv- 
ed in  del)t.  WriHni;-  to  Mi*.  Hcchcr,  in  his  twentieth  year,  he 
said,  '^  Kiih'c  )n)t>s,  1  am  cursedly  dipped;  my  debts,  every  thin.i;; 
inclusive,  will  l»e  nine  or  ton  thousand  hefoi'i'  I  am  twenty-one." 
( )n  his  coming  of  a^c,  the  festi\  ities  at  Newstea<l  were  celebrat- 
ed by  means  sup[>lied  by  money-lenders  at  (Miormously  usurious 
rates  of  interest.  i  lis  dillii  ulties  did  not  diminish,  but  oidy 
increased  with  time.  It  is  said  that  his  mothe.'s  death  was 
occasioned  by  a  tit  of  rage,  brought  on  l)y  i-eading  the  uphol- 
sterer's bills.  When  the  lirst  canto  of  '' Childe  Harold"  was 
published,  P>yron  presented  the  copyrjnht  to  Mr.  Dallas,  declar- 
ing that  he  would  never  i'ec(M  ve  mont^v  for  his  writings — a  resolu- 
tion which  he  afteiward  wisely  abandoned.  Ihit  his  earnings 
by  literatui'c  at  that  time  could  not  ha\(^  lighten(Ml  the  heavy 
load  of  debt  under  which  he  staggered.  Newstead  was  sold,  and 
still  the  load  accumulated,  Then  he  mai'ried,  pi-obably  in  the 
exjHH'tation  that  his  wife's  fortune  would  release  him  :  but  her 
money  was  locked  up.  a.vt  the  ste)».  instead  of  relieving  him, 
bi'ought  only  an  aci'essi';n  of  mist'ry.  Kveiw  one:  knows  the  sad 
result  of  th<^  union,  which  was  aggravated  by  the  iucreasing 
assaults  of  duns  and  slu'rlH's'  oilicei-s. 

l>yron  was  abnost  driven  to  sell  the  copyright  oi'  his  books, 
but  h(^  was  prevented  from  doing  so  by  his  publisher,  who  press- 
ed upon  him  a  sum  of  money  to  meet  his  temporary  wants. 
Durilig  the  tirst  year  of  his  marriage,  his  hous(!  was  nine  times 
in  the  possession  of  bailitls,  his  door  was  almost  daily  lieset  bv 
duns,  a,nd  he  was  only  saved  from  jail  by  the  pri\'ileges  of  his 
rank.  All  this,  U)  a  sensitive  nature  such  as  his,  must  ha\o 
been  gall  and  bitterness;  while  his  wilV^'s  separatiou  from  him, 
which  shortly  follow<'d,  could  not  fail  to  push  him  alm<»st  to  the 
point  of  freii/v.  .Although  he  had  declineil  to  receive  nionev  for 
his  lirst  poems,  IJyron  alteretl  his  views,  and  even  learned  to 


i:  'i' 

i'^  v^ 

f^^^^^^H  [\ 

^^^^^P^ffrri 

224 


lite  Burden  of  Debt 


[chap.  XII. 


drive  a  pretty  Imrd  bnrgain  with  Ins  ])ublis]icr.*  l>ut  Moore 
does  not,  in  liis  biography  of  the  poet,  inform  us  whether  he  ever 
got  rid,  except  ])y  death,  of  his  grevious  turmoil  of  debt. 

Thei'e  is  the  greatest  ditfei'euce  in  the  manner  in  which  men 
bear  the  burden  of  debt.  Some  feel  it  to  1)0  no  Ijurden  at  all  ; 
others  Ijcar  it  very  lightly;  while  others  look  n|)on  creditors  in 
the  light  (»f  })ersecntors.  and  themselves  in  the  light  of  martyrs. 
But  wliere  the  moral  sense  is  a  little  more  keen  ;  where  men 
use  the  gtjods  of  others,  w  ithout  rendering  the  due  e(|uivalent 
of  money  ;  where  tliey  wear  unpaid  clotiies.  eat  unpaid  mesit, 
drink  uni)aid  wines,  and  enteitain  guests  at  the  expense  of  tlie 
butcher,  grocer,  Avine-merchant,  and  green-grocer — the}'  nuist 
necessarily  feel  that  their  conduct  is  of  the  essence,  not  only  of 
sliabl)iness.  but  of  dishonesty,  and  the  burden  nuist  then  bear 
very  heavily  indeed. 

Of  light-hearted  debtoi's,  the  proportion  is  considerable.  Thus 
Theophihts  ('iblier,  when  (bowiied  in  debt,  begged  the  loan  of 
a  guinea,  and  spi'ut  it  on  a  dish  of  ortolans.  Thus  Foote,  when 
his  mother  wrote  to  him,  "  Dear  Sam,  J  am  in  prison  for  debt; 
conuf  and  help  your  lo\ing  mother,"  replied,  "  Dear  Mother,  so 
am  I,  which  [)revents  liis  duty  being  j)aid  to  his  loving  mother 
by  her  ali'ectionate  son."  Steele  and  Sheridan  both  bore  the 
load  lightly.  Whiui  <!nt(n'taining  company,  they  put  tlie  baililfs 
wlu)  were  in  possession  in  li\ cry,  and  made  them  wait  at  table, 
passing  tlirm  oil' as  servants.  ^«\)thing  .listurbcul  Steele's  e(pia- 
nimity  ;  and  when  driven  from  London  by  debt,  he  carried  his 
generosity  into  the  country,  giving  [)rizes  to  the  lads  and  hisses 
assend)led  at  rui'al  games  and  coiuitry  dances.  Sheridan  also 
mad(^  very  li^lit  of  his  deltts,  and  had  manv  a  yood  ioke  over 
them.  Some  one  asked  him  how  it  was  that  the  O'  was  not 
pretixed   to  his  name,    when    he   replied  that   he  was  sure  no 


*"  You  oll'i'i'  one  tlidUSiUKl  live  lunirtjTil  ^fiiiiicns  for  tlie  lU'W  Canto  [tin' 
I'oiiitli  ot  '"^'liiiilc  iliuoid''];!  won't  take  it.  I  ask  two  lliousand  live  huii- 
(h'l'il  guineas  t'ur  it,  wliicli  you  will  fitluT  ^^ivc  or  iiot  us  you  think  pro- 
jK'i' It  Mr.  Mustacc  was  to  have  two  thousand  for  a  jtocui  on  Educa- 
tion ;  it  Mr.  iMooi'c  is  to  liiivi;  thrrc  thousan<l  tor  '  bulla  ;'  il'  Mr.  Caniphidl 
is  to  have  thu'i'  thousuud  for  his  ))roso  or  [loetry— I  don't  mean  to  dispurajire 
tlirsc  j^iMitlcuK'n  or  their  labors-  hut  1  ask  the  uroresiiid  prico  for  mine." — 
Lord  Jjijrvu  to  Mr.  Murnti/,  Scjifiiabcr  4th,  1817, 


1:1 


.P.  XIl. 

Moore 
he  ever 

I'll  inon 
at  all  ; 
itors  iu 
luutyrs. 
pre  men 
uivalt'ut 
Ltl  meat, 
,e  of  the 
ey  must 
t  only  of 
iien  bear 

le.    Thus 
c  loan  of 
)te,  when 
for  ile'ot ; 
[other,  so 
o;  n\other 
bore  the 
i(.  V)ailitf« 
at  tabh^ 
le's  ('(^ua- 
arried  his 
md  lasses 
idan  also 
joke  over 
was  not 
,s  sure  no 

Canto  [tlio 
^ul  live  hun- 

tliiuk  i>r"- 
ii  on  Kdncii- 
[r,  CiunpbfU 

to  aisi)ara}^e 
lor  niiue."— 


CHAP.  XII.] 


Sydney  Smith. 


225 


family  had  abetter  right  to  it,  ''for.  iu  truth,  \\"  <nrr  every- 
body." And  when  a  creditor  once  apologized  for  the  soiled  and 
tattered  state  of  a  bill,  whi'-h  had  Ik'cu  nuu'h  woin  bv  beiui;  so 
often  ])resente(l,  Sheridan  advised  him,  "as  a  friend,  to  take  it 
home  and  writt;  it  upon  /xtrchineiif." 

A^ery  different  was  it  in  the  ease  of  poor  Ihirns,  wlio  was 
almost  driven  disti'actcd  l)eeause  )i(>  owccl  a  debt  of  scncu 
])ounds  four  shillings  foi'  a  volunteer's  uniform,  whicli  he  could 
not  pay.  He  stait  to  his  friend  Tliomson,  tlu^  publishei"  of  his 
songs,  imploring  the  loan  (,)f  five;  ]>ounds,  promising  full  \'alue  in 
"  song-g(Miius."  Mis  last  poem  was  a  •'  lo\e  song,"  in  part  p;iy- 
ment  of  the  loan,  which  \\r  com[)oscd  only  a  fi'w  days  l)cfore  his 
death. 

Sydney  Smith  had  a  scvore  sti'Ugglc  with  povtn'ty  iu  the  (^arly 
])art  of  his  life.  He  had  a  poor  living,  a  wide  [)arish,  and  a 
large  family.  His  daughter  says  that  his  debts  occasioned  him 
many  sh'e])less  nights,  and  that  she  has  seen  him  in  an  (ncning, 
when  bill  .after  bill  was  ])oiired  in  (carefully  examining  them, 
and  gradually  ])aying  them  off),  (piite  o\-erconu»  by  the  feeling 
of  the  d(;bt  hanging  over  him,  cover  his  face  with  his  hands,  and 
exclaim,  '"  Ah  I  I  see  I  shall  end  my  old  age  iu  a  jail."  l>nt  he 
bore  up  bravely  undei-  the  liurden,  lal>oring  onward  with  a 
cheerful  heart,  eking  out  his  slender  means  )>y  writing  articles 
for  the  Kdl)ihiir<ih,  until  at  length  jtiomotion  reached  him,  and 
he  reaped  the  reward  of  liis  perseverance,  his  in<lustry,  and  his 
indejK'udence. 

\)v  Foti's  lif<>  was  a  l<Mig  battle  with  ditficulty  and  debt.  Ho 
was  constantly  involved  in  bi'oils,  mostly  of  his  own  stirring  u[>. 
Ho  was  a  fi(uce  pamphleteer  from  his  youth  up  ;  and  was  never 
for  a  monu'ut  at  rest.  He  was  by  turns  a  soldier  with  thti 
Duke  of  iStonmouth,  a  pantile  maker,  w.  projector,  a  poet,  a 
]iolitical  agt!nt,  a  novelist,  an  essayist,  a  histoi-ian.  He  was 
familiar  with  the  pilloiy,  and  spent  much  of  his  i\\\u\  in  jail. 
When  reproached  by  one  of  his  ad\ (Msaries  with  mercenariness, 
he  piteously  declared  how  he  had,  "  in  the  i)ursuit  of  ])eace, 
hrought  himself  into  innunu'rable  broils  ;"  how  he  had  be(>n 
"sued  for  other  men's  debts,  and  stripped  naked  by  public 
oninion,  of  what  should  have  enabled  him  to  pay  his  own ;  ho\v 


'I  '.\i't 


226 


De  Foe  and  Sot i  they. 


[chap.  xri. 


*' Avitli  ii  nnnieroiis  fjimily,  and  with  no  liclps  but  liis  own  in- 
(lusti'v,  he.  liiul  I'oi'CohI  liis  Wiiy,  witli  iin(lis<"oui'Jif,'o(l  (lili:>;cne(', 
tlirou<;li  a  .sesiofdcltl:  and  niisf'ortunt',"  and  "  in  jails,  in  rc^ti'oats, 
and  in  all  manner  of  exticniitics,  sn|)[)()i'tcd  liimsclf  without  the 
assistance  of  friends  and  I'clntions."  Surely  there  ncncr  was 
such  a  life  of  stru,n-,ule  and  of  dillicidty  as  that  of  th(^  indefati,i,'al)le 
De  Foe.  Yet  all  his  literary  labors,  and  they  wi^re  enormous, 
did  not  suHicc^  to  kee)»  him  rjejir  of  del>t,  for  it  is  believed  that 
lie  died  insolvent. 

iSouthey  AVMs,  in  his  own  line,  almost  as  laboiious  a  writer  as 
D(!  Koe  ;  thouijjh  his  was  the  elosi't  life  of  the  student,  and  not 
the  a^'fjressiN'e  lif(!  of  the  |)olemi<*.  Thouijh  he  kn(iw  (h^bt,  it 
never  became  his  master  ;  an<l  fiom  an  early  period  in  Ids  career 
he  detennined  not  to  contract  a  debt  that  he  was  not  able  to 
dischar^'e.  lie  was  not  only  enabled  to  do  this,  but  to  liel]>  his 
friends  liberally  -niaintaiiuni;-  for  a.  time  the  families  of  his 
brotluM's-in-law,  (Jol(^ridg(^  and  Lovell — )>y  simply  not  allowing,' 
himself  any  indulifcnces  iK^yimd  his  natural  means,  though  these 
were  often  vi^ry  straitened.  The  burden  he  carried  would  have 
lK)rne  down  a  man  less  brave  and  resoluti; ;  bnt  he  worked,  and 
studied,  and  wrote,  and  earned  money  enounh  for  all  his  own 
wants,  as  well  as  the  wants  of  those  who  liad  become  dependent 
u))on  him.  He  held  on  his  noble  way  without  a  nnirmur  or 
complaint.  He  not  only  lil»erally  helped  his  rfilatives,  but  his 
old  school -fellows  in  distress.  He  took  ( *olerid|Li;e's  wife  and 
family  to  li\e  with  him,  at  a  time  when  (  V)l(!ridii;e  had  abandoued 
himself  to  o])ium-drinkinn\  To  meet  the  numerous  claims  upon 
him,  Southey  nu'rely  imposed  u])on  himself  so  much  exti'a  labor. 
Jle  was  always  ready  with  ,y"ood  advice  to  youni;-  men  who  sounlit 
Iris  hel[).  Thus  he  encouiau'ed  Kiike  White.  Ilerl)ert  Knowles, 
and  JJusantoy.  all  of  whom  dit'd  yGun;jf  and  full  of  pronuse.  He 
not  only  lleI^.ed  them  with  advice  and  encourai.fenu'nt,  but  with 
money;  and  his  tinudy  assistance  i-escued  the  sister  of  Chatter- 
ton  from  absolute  want.  And  thus  he  worked  on  nobly  and 
nnselfishly  to  the  last — llndinu' ha])|)iness  and  joy  in  the  [)ursuit 
of  letters  — "  not  so  learned  as  ]»ooi',  not  so  })oor  as  proud,  not  so 
proud  as  happy."     These  were  his  oAvn  Avords. 

The  most  toucliing  story  in  Sir  Walter   Scott's  life  is  the 


CHAP.  XII.] 


*SY/'  Wahn-  Scott. 


227 


manner  in  wliieli  he  conductcfl  liiniself  after  tlie  failure  of  tlie 
jtublisliinij  iioiisc;  of  Constable  it  Co.,  with  whieh  he  had  IxH-onie 
deeply  invohcd.  H(>  had  built  Ahhotsfoi'd,  become  a  laiid,  Avas 
.sluMift'  of  liis  county,  and  c]iou,i,dit  liimself  ;i  rich  man  ;  when 
suddenly  \\w  Constable  firm  })roke  down,  and  lie  found  himself 
indebted  to  the  world  mor(>  than  a  hun<lred  thousand  pounds. 
"  [t  is  very  hard."  he  said,  wheji  the  untoward  news  I'eaehcd 
him,  "thus  to  lose  all  the  laboi-  of  a  lifcstime,  and  to  be  made  a 
poor  man  at  last.  J>ut  if  Cod  arrant  me  h(!alth  and  sti<  nuth  for 
a  few  years  louijer,  I  ha\e  no  doubt  that  1  shall  redeem  it  all." 
Every  body  thought  him  a  ruiiKvl  man,  and  he  almost  felt  him- 
self to  be  so.  r>ut  his  conraufe  never  '^'.i\v  wa3^  When  his 
creditors  [)roposed  to  him  a  con.i posit  ion,  his  sense  of  honor 
forbade  liis  listenini^  to  them.  "  No,  gentlemen,"  he  replied  ; 
"  Time  and  I  ai'ainst  any  two."  IMiou^h  the  debts  had  been 
contracted  by  others,  Ik;  had  made  himself  ]e<xally  responsible 
for  them;  and,  stroni;  in  his  piinciple  of  integrity,  he  determin- 
ed, if  he  could,  to  pay  theui  off  to  th(^  last  farthing.  And  he 
set  himself  to  do  it ;  but  it  cost  him  his  lif((. 

He  [jai'ted  with  his  town  house  and  furnitun!.  delivered  over 
his  j)ersonal  efi'ects  to  be  held  in  ti'ust  for  his  creditors,  and 
Itound  himself  to  discharge  a  certain  amount  of  his  liabilities 
annually.  This  he  did  l)y  undertaking  new  littM'ary  works,  some 
of  them  of  great  magidtude,  the  Cixccntion  of  which,  though  they 
enabled  him  to  discharge  a  large  ]»ortion  of  his  debt,  added  but 
little  to  his  reputation.  Oni'  of  his  iirst  tasks  was  his  "Life  of 
Na])oleon  l)ona]»arte"  in  lune  vohniirs,  which  he  wrote,  in  the 
midst  of  |)ain,  sorrow,  and  ruin,  in  about  thiiteen  months— 
receiving  for  it  about  fourteen  thousand  ])onnds.  Even  though 
struck  by  pandysis,  he  AV(;nt  on  writing,  until  in  about  four  years 
lie  had  dischargtHl  about  two-thirds  of  the  debt  for  which  he  was 
i'es[)onsible — an  achievement  probably  un])aralleled  in  the  his- 
tory of  l(!tt(^rs. 

Tlie  sacriHces.  and  ellbi-ts  which  he  made  during  the  last  few 
years  of  his  life,  even  wldle  pai-alyzed  and  scarcely  able  to  hold 
liis  pen,  exhibit  Scott  in  ;.  truly  hei'oic  light.  JCe  bore  up  w^ith 
unconquerable  spirit  to  the  last.  When  his  doctor  expostidated 
with  him  against  his  excessive  brain-work,  he  replied,  "If  \ 


r.\ 


228 


Great  Poor  Men. 


[chap.  XII. 


were  to  l»e  idle,  I  slioiikl  ^o  mad  :  in  conq)nrison  to  this,  deatli 
is  no  risk  to  slirink  fron)."  Shortly  before  his  last  fatal  attack, 
when  sittin,!^  dozinf^  in  hirs  chair  on  the  inJif^s  in  front  of  the 
house  at  A])l)otsford.  lie  suddenly  roused  himself,  threw  of!"  the 
plaids  which  covo'ed  him,  and  exclaimed.  "This  is  sad  idleness. 
Take  nu;  to  my  own  room,  and  fetch  \\w  Keys  of  my  desk." 
They  wheeled  him  into  his  study,  and  put  pens  and  papei-  liefon^ 
him.  iJut  he  could  not  trias])  the  ]»en:  he  could  not  wi'ite;  and 
the  tea)s  roiled  doAvn  his  chci-ks.  His  sjiirit  '.vns  not  ciUKpiei-cd; 
but  his  bodily  ]iowers  were  exhausted  and  shattered  ;  and  when 
at  length  he  died,  he  fell  juslee))  like  a  child. 

Scott  felt,  what  e\eiy  s?nsitive  nature  nmst  feel,  that  poverty 
is  a  much  lighter  buiden  t.i  bear  than  del»t.  Thei'c  is  nothing 
ignominious  abou'  "poveity.  ft  m;iy  e\'<'n  ser\f'  as  a,  healthy 
stimulus  to  great  spirits.  "Tender  gold  uiountains  and  tin-ones," 
said  Jean  Paul,  "lie  buried  many  sjuiitual  giants."  Kichter 
even  held  that  }to\erty  was  to  be  welcomed,  so  that  it  came  not 
too  late  in  life.  And  doulttless  Scott's  l)urden  was  all  the  heavier 
to  bear  because  it  came  upon  him  in  his  declining  years. 

Shakespeare  was  originally  a  })Oor  man.  "  It  is  a  fpiestion." 
s.ays  Cailyle,  '■  whether  had  not  want,  discomfoi-t,  and  distress- 
warrants  been  bnsy  at  Stratford-on-Avon,  Shal:es])eare  had  not 
lived  killing  calves  or  combing  wool  1"  To  ^Milton's  and  Dryden's 
narrow  means  we  projiably  owe  the  best  ]»art  of  their  works. 

Johnsrm  was  i,  very  poor  man,  and  a  very  brave  onc^  lie 
never  kn^w  what  wealth  was.  His  nnnd  was  always  greater 
than  his  fort,iiiie  ;  and  it  is  the  mind  that  mak<'s  the  man  richer 
poor,  happy  or  miserable.  Johnson's  gi-ufl'  anil  blulf  exterior 
CON  ered  a  manly  and  noble  natur(\  He  had  eaily  known  ])overty 
and  debt,  and  wished  hitaself  clear  of  both.  When  at  college, 
his  feet  ai>peared  through  his  shoes,  but  he  was  too  poor  to  buy 
new  ones.  Jiis  head  was  full  of  leai-ning,  l)ut  his  pockets  were 
em])ty.  How  he  struggled  through  distress  and  ditliculty  during 
his  first  years  in  London,  the  reader  can  leai'n  from  his  "Life." 
He  bedded  and  boarded  for  fourpence-half-]ienny  a  day,  and  Avhen 
too  poor  to  pay  for  a  bed,  he  wandered  with  Savage  whole  nights 
in  the  streets.  He  struggled  on  manfully,  never  whining  at  his 
lot,  but  trying  to  make  the  b.^st  of  it. 


CHAP.  XII.] 


Johnson! s  Advice. 


229 


These  early  sorrows  aiul  strujCfijles  of  Jolu'son  left  tlu'ir  sc.irs 
upon  his  nature  :  but  they  also  eulaj-ijed  and  enriched  his  expe- 
rience, as  well  as  widened  hisraniie  of  human  sympathy.  Even 
when  in  his  greatest  distress  he  had  room  in  his  heart  for  others 
whose  necessities  wein;  greater  than  his  own  :  and  he  was  never 
wantini^  in  his  help  to  tliose  who  needed  it,  or  wei"e  poorer  than 
himself. 

From  his  sa<l  experience,  no  one  coidd  speak  with  jjn-fater 
authority  on  th(>  subject  of  del)t  than  Johnson.  "  Do  not  ac- 
custom yourself,"  he  wi'ote  to  j'oswcll.  "  to  consider  debt  only 
an  incouNcnience  :  you  Avill  tind  it  a  lii'amiiy.  Let  it  be  your 
tirst  care  not  to  be  in  any  man's  debt.  Whatever  you  have, 
s])end  less.  PruLjality  is  not  only  the  basis  of  (piict,  but  of  bene- 
ficence!." To  Sim))S()n,  the  liarrister,  he  Avrote,  "Small  debts  ai-e 
like  small  shot  ;  they  an>  rattling'  on  every  side,  and  can  scarcely 
be  esca[ied  without  a  wound  :  yreat  (hdits  are  like  cannon,  of  loud 
noise,  but  little  danger.  Vou  must  therc^fore  be  enabled  todis- 
charife  petty  debts,  that  you  may  ha\'e  leisure,  with  security,  to 
struggle  with  the  rest.  "Sir,"  said  \w  to  th(!  patient  and  recep- 
tive iJoswell,  "get  as  much  peace  of  mind  as  you  can,  and  keep 
within  your  income,  and  you  won't  go  far  wrong." 

Men  wdio  live  by  their  wits,  their  talents,  or  their  genius, 
have,  somehow  or  othei-,  acquii'cil  the  chai'acter  of  being  impro- 
vident. (^ha)'les  Noditu-,  writing  jvbout  a  distinguished  genius, 
said  of  him,  "  In  the  life  of  intelligenci'  and  art,  he  v,:is  an  aiigM^l  ; 
in  the  common  [u-actical  life  of  e\i'ry  day,  he  was  a  child."  Th(^ 
same  might  be  said  of  many  great  writei-s  and  artists.  The 
greatest  of  them  havt^  been  so  devoted — heart  and  soul — to  their 
special  W(n'k,  that  they  have  not  cared  to  think  how  the  efforts 
of  their  genius  might  be  eoinerted  into  ])()unds,  shillings,  and 
pence.  Had  thev]»laced  tlu^  money  consideration  first,  ]aobably 
the  world  would  not  have  inherit(Ml  the  products  of  their  genius. 
•Milton  would  not  liave  labored  for  so  many  years  at  his  "  Para- 
dise Lost,"  merely  for  the  sake  of  the  fiA'e  })ounds  for  wdiich  he 
sold  the  first  edition  to  the  publishei*.  Nor  would  Schiller  have 
gone  on  toiling  for  twenty  years  up  to  the  topmost  pinnacles  of 
thought,  merely  for  the  sake  of  the  bare  means  of  living  which 
he  earned  bv  his  work. 


'■■h 


m 


230 


Genivs  and  Debt. 


[riiAP.  XII. 


At  the  siinic  time,  men  of  fjfenius  should  not  disrerjard  tlie 
coniinoii  rules  of  Mritliiimtic.  If  they  spend  more  than  they 
earn,  they  will  luu  into  debt.  Nor  will  couiplainin]L;  of  the 
harshness  of  the  world  keep  them  out  of  it.  They  have  to  stand 
or  fall  on  their  nieiits  as  m(m  ;  and  if  they  ai-e  not  ])rovident, 
they  willsuff(;r  the  same  consequences  as  othei-s,  Thackeray,  in 
j)ainting  tin;  eliaracter  of  Captain  Shandon,  in  his  "  Pendennis," 
ga'c  consi(h'ral)le  offense  to  the  literaiy  jtrofession  ;  yet  he:  only 
sjioke  the  ti'uth.  "If  a  lawyer,"  said  he,  "or  a  soldier,  or  a 
])arson,  outruns  his  income,  and  does  not  i)ay  his  hills,  he  nuist 
go  to  j'lil ;  and  an  author  must  go  too." 

Litei-ary  men  are  not  iu\glected  because  they  are  literary  men. 
But  they  hav(;  no  right  to  (>x])ect  that  society  will  ovei-look 
their  social  oU'enses  because  they  are  literary  men.  It  is  neces- 
sary for  the  world's  sake,  as  well  as  for  their  own  .sake,  that 
literary  men  and  ai-tists  should  take  care  to  "proside  against  the 
evil  day  "  likt;  other  peo])le.  "Imagination  and  art,"  says  Ma- 
danu!  do  Stai-l,  "  have  need  to  look  after  their  own  comfort  and 
lia)tpiness  in  this  world."  The  world  ought  to  hcl])  them  gen<n"- 
ously  ;  all  good  men  ought  to  hell)  them  ;  but,  Avhut  is  better 
than  all,  tlu^y  ought  to  help  themselves. 


CHAPTEll  XIU. 


RICHES    AND    CHARITV. 


"  Will)  !  wlio  !  who's  lu'iv  .' 
I,  FiolxMl  of  Dotuii.stir. 
That  I  .s|i(>iit,  that  I  hml  ; 
That  I  i,'avt'.  that  I  havi-  ; 
That  1  left,  that  [  k)st." 

Eliitfipli,  A.i).  1570. 

"It"  tliou  art  ricli,  thou  art  |ioor  ; 
For,  likf  nil  ass,  wliosc  ])ack  with  iii<fols  bows, 
Tlioii  l)car'st  tliy  lu'avy  riches  hut  a  jouriiu}-, 
And  (h-ath  unloads  thei-. "— Shakspkaisk. 

"  II  est  boil  (I'l'tre  charitable, 
Mais  envers  (jui '.     C'est  la  le  point." — f^A  FoSTAiNr,, 

"Tlicie  arc   many  idlers  to  whom  a  penny  be;^f^'ed  is  sweeter  than  a 
sliilling  earned." — Doxksla.s  Jkkuold. 

"  lie  stole  a  pig,  and  in  God's  name  t^ave  the  trotters  to  the  jMKvr. " — 
Frcna  tlui  SyfinixJi.. 

MAN  must  bo  tlirifty  in  onbu-  to  be  giMUM'oii.s.  Tlii-ift  does 
not  end  with  its<dt",  but  extends  its  bcnelits  to  otliers. 
It  founds  liosjiitals,  endows  charities,  estal>lishes  cone«(es,  iind 
extends  educjitional  inHuences.  JjenevohMice  sj)i'ini,'s  IVoni  tlie 
best  (jUidities  of  the  mind  Jind  lu'.'irt.  Its  divin  >  <j)i!-it  elevates 
tile  lu'nefiU'tors  of  the  world — the  liowards,  ( iai'Usons,  and 
Xaviers — to  the  highest  pedestals  of  moral  genius  and  of  na- 
tional worshij). 

The  same  feeling  poi-vades  onr  i^onimon  humanity.  The 
poorest  man,  the  daily  worker,  the  obscurest  individual,  sharfjs 
the  gift  and  the  blessing  of  doing  good — a  blcssiug  tliat  imparts 
no  less  delight  tu  him  who  gives  than  to  him  who  receives, 


1 1 


'M  .  I  Ji'! 


232 


Helping  the  Uelphss. 


[chap.  XIII. 


"  Mail  is  ilcnr  to  iiiiin  :  the  noorest  poor 
Loiit^  tor  some  moments,  in  u  weary  life, 
When  tlicy  ("in  know  iind  ted  thnt  tliey  have  been 
Themselves  the  fathers  and  <^he  iK^ah'isout 
Ot'  some  small  hleasin^^s  ;  have  been  kind  to  sueh 
As  needed  kindness,  for  this  sin^^le  c;mse, 
That  we  lune  all  o.  ns  one  huinau  heart." 

The  (liity  of  ]i(!l[>iiiu"  the  luOjilcss  is  one  tlint  speiiks  tnniijift" 
ton^H'ucd  ;  Init  ('S|K't'iiilly  t<»  tlmsc  wlio  jirolrss  jovo  to  (iod  and 
fjood-will  to  iiii'ii.  it  is  a  duty  that  IxdoiiLi's  to  nicii  as  iiidiviil- 
\ials,  and  as  hu'IuIk  rs  of  tlic  social  body.  As  iiidiNJduals,  l)e- 
caus(^  wo  aro  ciijoiiu'i,!  to  liclji  th«-  w  idow  .-lud  tlic  fatluM'lns.s  in 
tlioii-  atHictioii  :  and  as  uiriiiliors  of  tlic  soi-ial  liody,  booaiiso 
S()ri(!ty  claims  of  cxci'v  iiian  that  lie  sliali  lie  a  ludpci"  in  the 
cause  of  jiro^rcss  and  of  social  we'll  lie  in  tr. 

It  is  not  necessary  tliat  men  should  l»e  i-jcli  to  lie  liel)»ful  to 
otiiei's.  .John  I'onnds  was  not  a  rich  man  ;  yet  liy  his  inlluenoe 
ragged  scIuxjIs  were  estahlished.  lie  was  tenijiei'ate,  and  sa'cd 
onon;4'li  from  lii.s  e;>rniin;s  to  buy  t'ood  for  his  pujiils.  il; 
utti'acted  them  by  Ills  kindness,  sometimes  by  a  "hot  i»otatt):" 
lio  tain^d't  them,  and  sent  them  out  into  the  world,  fortilied  by 
liis  good  example,  to  worlc  in  it,  and  do  their  duty  toward  it. 
Nor  was  Joseph  Lancaster,  the  founder  of  Sunday  jind  ot.n'P 
schools,  a.  rich  man  :  neither  was  Thomas  Wrii!;ht,  the  prison 
}>liilantli)()pist.  Nor  wei-e  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  and  Father 
Matthew — the  ]ironioteis  of  education  and  temperance.  Nor 
wei'c  the  yreat  men  of  science — Newton,  Watt  and  l*'ara(hiy ; 
iioi'  tlu^  great  missionaries  .\a\ier.  Martyn,  Carey  and  Living- 
stone. 

A  line  instan-'c  of  geudcncss  and  ,i.'enerositv  is  I'ccoi'ded  in 
Walton's  memoir  of  L*r.  Donne.  When  the  latter,  long  strait- 
ened in  his  means,  had  eiitercil  upon  the  deanery  of  St.  raid's, 
and  was  thendty  pi-oxided  with  an  income  more  than  sutVicicnt 
for  all  his  wants,  he  felt  that  those  means  had  been  intrusteil  to 
him  for  good  uses,  and  to  emphiy  for  human  help  and  to  the 
gloi-y  of  the  driver  thereof.  At  the  foot  of  a  private  account, 
"to  wJiicli  Uod  and  his  angels  oidy  wcr(>  witnesses  w''  .  liiui," 
Dr.  Donnc!  computed  first  his  revenue;,  then  what  was  f^\y'iXi  to 
tlu;  i)oor  and  othei*  pious  uses,  and,   lasfcly,   wliat  rested  for  him 


r 

i 


CHAP.  XIII.] 


Dy.  Donne, 


233 


ami  liis  ;  and  havii  4  dono  lliat,  lie  tlicii  blessed  each  year's  poor 
remainder  v»ith  a  thankful  prayer. 

Dr.  Donne  did  most  of  liis  yood  in  seoi-et,  letting;  not  his 
right  liand  know  what  his  h't't  hand  di(k  He  red'enied  many 
poo)"  tVoni  |viis(>n,  lieljx'd  many  a  pour  schohir,  and  emjdoyed  a 
trusty  servant  or  a  disereet  trie  lul  to  di.-lrihute  Jtis  Itounty  where 
it  was  most  neech'il.  A  tViend  wlioiu  hf  Jiad  known  in  days  of 
aitluence,  ha\ing  liy  a  loo  lilxaal  h(art  and  careh'ssncss  become 
decayed  in  Jns  esiat''  and  re<bi>-ed  to  poveity,  hoinie  sent  him 
a  Innuh'ed  pounds.  Dut  the  decayed  genth-man  returnetl  it 
with  tlianks,  saying  that  lie  want(^d  it  not; ;  for.  says  Walton, 
in  narrating  tlie  event,  "  as  thciv  Ite  some  spirits  so  genei'ous 
as  to  laltoi"  to  concral  and  (■ndurc  a  sad  j»i)\<'rty.  rather  tiian  (>x- 
pose  themstdves  to  those  l)lushes  tliat  attend  the  confession  of 
it,  so  there  be  others  to  whom  natm  :•  and  grace  liasc  afforded 
such  sweet  and  com])assionate  souls  as  to  pity  and  prexcnt  tlu; 
distrt>sses  of  mankiu'l  ;  whidi  I  ha\<'  mentioned  Ixrause  of  i)r, 
I  )onne's  rej»iy.  nho.-^e  answer  was  'I  know  you  v  ant  not  what 
will  sustain  nature,  for  a  little  will  do  that  :  l.»ut  my  desire  is 
that  you,  vlio  in  the  days  of  your  ])lciity  have  cheered  and 
raised  the  hearts  ot"  so  ni.my  of  your  d(;jectcd  fri(!nds,  would  now 
rei'eive  this  from  nu'.  and  u^;e  it  as  a  cordial  for  the  cheering 
of  your  own  ;  "  and  upon  lliese  terms  it  was  received. 

'riie  tru(  h  is,  that  wc  \  cry  mueh  exaggerate  the  power  of  riches, 
rmmense  subsia  i[ttions  are  got  up  for  the  pu'.'pose  of  refornnng 
men  from  theii-  sinl'id  courses,  and  turning  thcun  from  e\il  to 
Uood.  And  yet  subscriptions  will  not  do  it.  It  ischai-acter  tiiat 
(.'un  do  the  work;  money  ne\-er  can.  (Jreat  elianges  in  society 
(an  never  l»e  elfeeted  through  riches.  To  (tun  men  from  intem- 
pcran  'c,  iinpi'ovidenee.  and  irreli^ion,  and  to  induce  them^to 
seiMv  thciir  ha[»pincss  in  tin-  pui'suii  of  pro|ter  and  noble  objects, 
I'cipiires  i-arnest  purpose,  honest  self-d(>\otion,  and  hard  work. 
A[oney  may  hel]t  in  many  rcspceis;  lait  money  l»y  itself  t-an  do 
iiothin;''.  The  ajtostle  I'anl  |)lanted  the  ke-, ,,\  i.dge  of  the  ( 'hiis- 
tiaii  religion  ovei-  hall'  the  Konian  empire;  yet  lie  sup|iorted 
himself  by  tcnt-nud<ing,  and  n  '  l»y  collecting  subscriptions. 
Men  of  an.xious,  earnest,  honest  hearts  ww  far  more  wanted  than 
rich  men — willing  to  giv(   money  iu  charity. 


'  'I 


234 


Ix-ich  People. 


[chap.  xui. 


Notliiiii-if  iN  so  iiuK'h  overestiinatod  as  tlie  power  of  money. 
All  tlie  j)(M)p]o  who  aro  lookiiij^  out  for  front  seats  in  •' society" 
think  it  the  one  thiuy,'  needful.  Tliey  may  be  i>ui-se-lil»eral,  luit 
the}^  are  also  j)urse-))rou(l.  The  liypocriticai  professions  of  sonic 
})eople,  with  a  \  iew  to  eiit-it  the  ;;'oo(l  opinion  of  others,  in  the 
teeth  of  their  daily  life  and  practice,  are  nothing'  short  of  dis- 
<4'ustin^.  "  Oh,  (J(v,)rdi(!,  jinylini,'  (i(H)rdie,"  said  Kini;-  James,  in 
the  novel,  "it  was  grand  to  liear  Haliy  Chiii'les  layiuij;'  down  tlie 
iLjuilt  dissimulation.  an<l  Stecnie  leetui'in^'  on  th<!  lni'|)itud('  (if 
incontinence." 

Soni(!  ])eo]»le  haAc  an  idolatrous  worshij)  of  money.  The  Is- 
raelites liad  thcii'  yoidcu  calf;  the  (ireeUs  had  their  jLifoldcu 
.Ju)»iter.     Old    IJonnderhy   vahu'd    the    man   vIm)  whs   worth  a 

hundred  thousand  pounds."    Others  i!o  tlu-  si    m'.     TIk^  lowest 


human    nature   loves  money,   )»ossessions,   \,ilti 


What 


IS  lie 


worth  r    "What  is  liis  iniiome  T  are  the  usual  (pu'stions.     Il' 
you   sa\',    '•There    is  a    thorou^'hlv    ''ood,   benevolent,    virtuous 


man 


nobodv  will   notice   him.     lint   if  von  sav 


hei'e  IS  ;i 


man  worth  a  million  of  moiuiv  1"  In;  will  l)e  stiired  at  till  out  ot' 
sight.  A  crowd  of  pcoj)le  used  to  collect  at  Hyde  l*ark  ( 'oi'iis'i' 
to  see  a  rich  man  jiass.  "  Here  conu'S  old  Ortx'kie  1"  and  the 
crowd  wouhl  sc|tai'atc  to  allow  him  to  pass,  amidst  wiii spers  of 
a-dnni'alion.  It  \sas  old  ( 'rockl'oi'd.  who  luade  a  large  fortune  ly 
keeping  a  gamhling  house. 

'•The  xcry  sound  of  nnllions."  says  .Mrs.  ({oi'e,  ''tickles  the 
ear  of  an  llnglishnian  1  lie  loxcs  it  so  much,  indeed,  thai  it  all 
but  i-ecoiirilcs  him  to  the  national  debt;  and  when  .■■pji'.'d  to 
pri\ate  propi'i(;toishi|i,  it  scciu'cs  deference  for  low  ics>^  kX  miml. 

iiirtli.  haliits  an  1  pursuits \nd)ition  and  n. oi i.-y  ;e-,e,  it' 

they  lend  to  einiobli' a  country,  reduce  to  insignit;"ane»   ■'•lie  liv- 


man  particles  oi'  which  the  nation  is  composed 


intl 


leir  pi.i'suit 


of  riches,  the  English  are  gradually  losing  sight  of  higher  chaniv- 
teristics ; .  .  .  .  our  pursuit  of  railway  bnhbles  and  every  otlici' 
I'rantic  s|>eculalioii  of  the  hour  alibrds  sullicient  evidence  of  the 
cra\  ing  alter  capital  superseding  e\-ery  better  aspiration,  wln'- 
ther  for  this  world  or  the  next." 

The  loscol'gold  llireateiis  I  o  dri  \  <■  e\  ('•■\thiiii.';  '     fore  it.    Tin' 
[lursiiit  of  money  has  'oecoini    the  settled  ciistoui  c    iht;  country. 


1AI\  XUl. 


CHAP.  XIII.] 


Eagerness  to  he  Ricli, 


235 


'  %l 


Miinv  are  so  al)sorlie(l  1)V  it  tliat  every  otiier  kind  of  well-heiny; 
is  cither  lost  siijfht  of,  oi-  altogetluM-  undervalned.  And  tlien  tlio 
lovers  of  money  think  to  )-eeovei-  tlun'r  moral  tone  Ity  bestowinj^ 
charity  !  Mountains  of  i^old  wei<»h  heavily  upon  the  heart  and 
soul.  The  mail  who  (';in  withstand  the  weitrht  of  riehes,  an<l 
still  he  diligent,  industrious,  and  strontjf  in  mind  and  heait,  nuist 
he  made  of  stionij  stuff;  for  [leople  who  are  rich  are  almost  in-^ 
vai'iahly  <lisposed  to  he  idle,  luxui'ious.  and  self-indulufent. 

"If  money,"  said  the  Kev.  Mi-.  CrifHths,  rector  oi"  1*1  erthyr, 
"did  no.:  mak(-  m(>n  forujet  men.  one-half  of  the  evil  that  is  in 
th(^  world  would  never  occur.  If  masters  drew  nearer  to  the 
iiuni,  and  men  were  peimitted  to  draw  nearer  their  masters,  we 
should  no%  he  passinij  thr<)uij[h  this  jiery  ordeaL  Let  them  do 
soiiiethini''  to  win  the  men  out  of  the  [)ultlicdiouses  ;  let  them 
sp.are  m<ii'e  of  their  enormous  ^aiiis  to  huild  ]  daces  of  a  muse  men  t 
and  recreation  for  the  jteople  :  l(>t  tli<'m  ])rovide  hetter  h(»uses 
to  li\-e  in,  hetter  conxcniences  for  decency,  better  streets  ;  and 
if  all  these  thiii'^s  ar<'  done  we  shall  ha\-e  neither  lock-outs  nor 
strikes.  We  hear  with  pomp  and  triumph  of  the  millions  aiul 
millions  that  ha\-e  been  <Iu!;'  out  of  this  old  W'.'lsh  land  of  ours, 
but  we  hear  nodiini!,  -  and  we  s(m>,  indet>d,  less — of  the  jmblic 
buildings,  the  |«'ople's  |)a;ks,  the  public  libraries  and  public 
institutions,  and  other  civilizinj,' ai^'encies.  h'ifteen  months  a,i(o, 
when  we  m'ci'c  In  the  hiy,hest  tide  oi'  prosperity,  I  said  all  ti  is, 
and  no  notice  was  taken  of  it.  Wh  hould  any  noiici;  be  takt  n 
oi"  a  ])reachiny  parson  or  a  (  Miristian  minister  oi"  any  kind,  when 
sovereinns  My  al>out  like  snow-ilakes  in  \>inter,  or  may  lie 
tifathered  like  l>lackberries  in  summer  (" 

Men,ii,'oou  toiling  and  moiliini;,  eai>'er  to  be  richer  :  desperately 
sjrui;'<4lin,i,',  as  if  against  j)o\-erty,  at  the  same  time  that  (hey  are 
surrounded  with  abum'ance.  They  scrape  and  scrape, add shiliinn', 
(o  shillim;',  and  sometiiiu's  do  shabby  tiiiiius  in  order  to  make  a 
little  more  ]»rotit ;  thoujLjh  they  may  havo  accnmuhited  far  more 
than  tlu\v  can  actually  enjoy.  .\nd  still  they  <;o  on,  worryiiii,' 
themseh'es  incessantly  in  the  endeavor  to  i^vasp  at  an  addilional 
iucreaK(>  of  snperiluity.  Perhaps  such  men  haAc  not  enjoyed 
(h(>  advantay^e  of  education  in  eaily  life.  They  lia\i'  no  literary 
pleasures  to  tall   back   upon;  they   ha\e    no   taste   Ibr   books; 


If 


■HI         'I 


S36 


Riches  and  Poverty. 


[chap.  XIII. 


somotimes  tlioy  can  scarcely  write  their  own  names.  Tliey  have 
notliiny:  to  think  of  but  money,  and  of  what  will  make  money. 
They  have  no  faith,  hut  in  riches  !  Th(\v  keep  their  children 
nnd(!r  restriction,  and  Itriup;  them  Mp  \\ itli  a  .servile  educati(m. 

At  length,  an  accumulation  of  money  comes  into  the  children'.s 
hands.  They  have  before  been  restricted  in  their  exj>enditure  ; 
now  tlu'V  b(!couu' l.'ivish.  They  have  been  educated  in  no  better 
tastes.  They  sixnid  extraviu;:antlv.  They  will  not  be  drudires 
in  business,  as  their  i'ath'M'  was.  They  will  be  "  gentlemen, " 
and  s})cnd  their  Jiioney  "  lilce  gentlemen."  Ami  very  soon  the 
money  takes  winu's  and  llit^s  away.  Mans'  are  the  instances  in 
vhich  fanulies  have  been  I'aised  to  wealth  in  the  first  generation, 
'auuclied  into  ruinous  expense  in  the  S(\'oud,  and  (lisapi)cared  in 
Ihc  tJiird — bi'ing  a'^ain  rcdnctMi  to  })overty.  Hence  the  Lanca- 
.shire  j)roverb,  ""Twice  clogs,  onec'  boots."  Tiie  first  man  woi'c 
clogs,  and  accumulate;!  a  "poxM'r  o'  money;"'  his  i-icli  st)n  s])ent 
it  :  and  the  tliii'<l  genei-alion  took  up  the  clogs  again.  .V  candi- 
date for  ]>iii'lianient;iiy  honors,  wJun  s^uMiung  from  the  hustings, 
was  asked  if  he  had  ]>ii')dy  brass  -vrienty  brass  T'  said  Ik?; 
*'  ay,  I've  lots  o'  brass  1-  -  f  stink  o'  brass  I" 

The  same  social  tr;insJ"oi'mations  iue  known  in  Scotland.  The 
proverb  there  is,  "Tlie  grandsire  digs,  the  father  bigs,  the  son 
tliigs;"  that  is,  tbe  grandl'athei'  worked  hard  ami  nnuh;  a 
fortuiu',  the  i'atlier  built  a  line  house,  and  the  son,  "  an  unthrifty 
son  of  j.inne,"  when  land  and  goods  wert!  gone  and  spent,  took 
to  tlnevini"'.  JMeivhants  are  sometinu's  |>rinces  to-day  and 
beggars  to-morrow  ;  and  so  long  as  the  genius  for  speculation  is 
exercised  by  a  miM'cantile  lairdiy,  the  talent  which  ga\t'  them 
landed  |>i()perty  may  mcntiiall;,  depi'ive  them  of  it. 

To  lie  happy  in  old  iige  at  a  lime  when  nu'U  should  leave 
fore\ei'  the  toil,  anxiety,  and  wori'y  of  mom-y  making — ^they 
ninst,  during  youth  and  iruthll  •  life,  have  kept  tlieir  minds 
lie.dthity  active.  'I'hey  must  familiarize  themselvt^s  with  know- 
ledge, Mud  take  an  interest  in  all  that  has  betui  done,  and  !.•>  lO- 
ing,  to  makt^  the  world  wisei- and  better  from  age  to  age.  Theic 
is  enough  leisur*'  in  most  men's  li\es  to  enabh^  them  to  interest 
thomselvcH  in  biography  and  histoi'y.  'J'hey  nniy  also  acquire 
■  considerable  knoNvledge  of  science,  or  t;f  some  ennobling  pti'suit 


CHAP.  Xfll.] 


J\'!rhe.s  In,  Old  Aij<'. 


TM 


(lift'erent  from  tliat  by  Avliicli  luoiity  is  made.  Merc  amuse- 
ment will  m)t  do.  No  man  ean  grow  liappy  npon  amusement. 
The  inere  man  of  pleasure  is  a  miseraV)l(^  creature,  especially  in 
old  age.  The  m(!re  drudge  in  business  is  little  b-jtter.  Where- 
as the  study  of  literature,  philosojdiy,  and  science  is  full  of  tran- 
([uil  pl(!asu)-(%  down  to  the  (^nd  of  life.  If  the  rich  old  man  has 
no  enjoyment  apart  froiu  money-making,  his  old  age  be(;omes 
misei'al)le.  JFfe  goes  on  gi'iuding  and  grinding  in  the  same  rut, 
])erhaps  growing  richer  and  licher.  AV'hat  matters  it  ]  FTe  can- 
not eat  his  gold.  Hi;  cannot  spend  it.,  ills  money,  instead  of 
being  ])eneticial  to  hiin,  becomes  a  curse.  He  is  a  slave?  to  ava- 
rice, the  meanest  of  sins.  He  is  spoken  of  as  a  despicable  crea- 
ture.     He  becomes  base,  even  in  liis  own  estimation. 

What  a  miscralih^  end  was  that  of  the  rich  luan  wlio,  when 
dying,  found  no  coudbrt  save  in  ])lunging  his  hands  into  a  ])ile 
of  new  sovereigns,  whicli  had  been  ])rought  to  him  froui  the 
bank.  As  the  woild  faded  froui  hiui,  he  still  clutched  theui  ; 
handled  and  fondh'd  theui  one  by  one,  and  then  lu;  passed 
away,  his  last  eilurt  being  to  finger  his  gold  !  Elwes,  tlu?  miser, 
died  shrieking,  '-J  will  ke(?])  my  money! — nobody  shall  (l(^[>rivo 
me  of  my  pro[)erty  I"     A  l;hastly  and  humiliating  spt^ctacle  ! 

llich  men  ar(>  more  punished  for  their  excess  of  economy  than 
poor  men  are  for  their  want  ot  it.  'I'hey  bcrome  miserly,  thiidc 
themselves  daily  growing  poorer,  and  die  the  deaths  of  beggars. 
We  have  known  scMM-al  instances.  One  of  the  richest  mer- 
chants in  London,  after  living  for  some  time  in  [KMuiry,  w(nit 
down  into  the  country,  to  the  j»aiish  Nvhcre  he  was  born,  an<l 
ai>plied  to  th(>  ovei'seei's  for  j)oor-relief  Though  possessing  mil- 
lions, h<>  Avas  hoii'or-struck  by  the  tear  of  becoming  poor. 
Relii^f  was  granted  him,  and  he  positively  died  the  death  of  a 
jiauper.  ( )ne  of  the  richest  merchants  in  the  North  died  in  the 
receipt  of  poor-relief.  Of  course,  all  that  the  [»arish  authorities 
had  (loltHl  out  to  these  poor-rii'li  nuMi  was  <luly  I'epaid  by  their 
e>:ecutors. 

And  what  did  these  ricli  persons  leaver  behind  them  ]     Only 

tilt?  reputation  that  they  had  died  rich  men.      Ibit  riches  do  not 

constitute  any  claim  to  distinction.      It  is  only  thci  vidgar  who 

lulmire  riches  as  riches.      iNIoney  is  a,  di'ug  in  th(?  market.     Some 

15 


|; 


I  11 


l-i^ 


lii;    '•■■ 


238 


Democrats  and  R'uihes. 


[chap.  XIII. 


of  the  most  wealthy  men  living  .ire  mere  nobodies.  Many  of 
them  are  comparatively  ignorant.  Th(\y  are  of  no  moral  or 
social  account.  A  short  time  since,  a  list  was  published  of  tw(t 
liundred  and  twenty-four  Englisli  millionfiires.  Some  were 
known  as  screws;  some  weie  "smart  men"  in  regard  to  specu- 
lations ;  some  were  large  navvies,  coal-miners,  and  manufactur- 
ers;  some  were  almost  unknown  beyond  tlieir  own  local  circle; 
some  were  very  poor  creatures  ;  very  few  were  num  of  distincs 
tion.  All  that  one  could  say  of  them  was,  that  they  died  rich 
men. 

"  All  the  rich  and  all  the  covetous  men  in  the  world,"  said 
Jeremy  Taylor,  "will  perc(!ive,  and  all  the  world  will  j)erceivc 
for  them,  that  it  is  but  an  ill  rec()m])ense  for  all  their  cjvres,  that 
by  this  time  all  that  shall  be  left  will  lie  this,  that  the  neighV)ui-.s 
shall  s.ay,  IL'.  (fled  o  rlcJi  hk/u:  and  yet  his  Avealth  will  not  jiro- 
tit  him  in  th(^  grave,  but  hugely  s\v(>ll  tlu'  sad  ai-counts  of  his 
I'oomsday." 

"One  of  tlu^  chief  causes,"  says  Mrs.  (liore,  "which  render 
the  pursuit  of  wealth  a  bitterer  as  W(dl  as  more  pardonable 
strugghi  in  l^lngland  than  on  thf  Contimnit,  is  the  uiuMjual  ami 
cajiricious  distiibution  ot  family  ])roperty .  .  .  .  (V)untry  gentle- 
men and  professional  men — nay,  men  without  the  j/rctension  of 
being  gc^iitlemen — are  scarcely  less  smitti^n  with  the  mania  oi" 
creating  'an  eldest  son,'  to  the  exclusion  and  degradatitni  of 
their  vounger  children  ;  and  by  the  individuals  thus  defraudi'd 
bv  their  m^arest  and  dearest  is  the  idolatry  of  ^^amm(tll  i)ur- 
sued  without  th(^  least  regai'd  to  self-respect,  or  tlu^  rights  of 
their  fellow-creatures.  Injured,  they  injure  in  th(>ir  turn. 
Th(ur  days  are  devoV-d  to  a  campaign  for  iht^  recoxt'i'v  of  their 
birthright.  Interested  marriages,  shabby  bargains,  and  political 
jobbery,  may  be  traced  to  the  vile  system  of  things  which  con- 
verts the  elder  son  into  a  l)i\es,  and  makes  a  Lazarus  of  his 
brother." 

But  denux'rats  have  cpiite  as  great  a.  love  for  lii-hes  as  aris- 
tocrats, and  many  austere  republicans  ai'(^  eagei-  to  be  million- 
aires. Forms  of  government  do  not  influeiice  the  desire  i'ur 
wealth.  'J'he  elder  Cato  was  a  usurer.  One  of  his  means  of 
nndsing  m<)iu>y  was  by  buying  young  half  fed  slaves  at  a  losv 


lAP.  XIII. 


CHAP. 


XIII.] 


Riches  no  Chum  to  Dinfincflon. 


239 


price  :  then,  l)y  fattening  tliein  up,  and  training;  tlieni  to  work, 
lie  sold  them  at  an  enhanced  ])rice.  Brntns,  Avhen  in  the  isle 
of  Cyprus,  lent  his  money  at  forty-ei,t,dit  ])e  cent,  interest,  and 
no  one  thon,trht  tlie  worse  of  him  for  his  usiiiy.  AVashin<^ton, 
the  hero  of  American  freedom,  hecpieatlKnl  his  slaves  to  his  wife. 
It  did  not  occur  to  him  to  <i:ive  tliem  their  liberty.  Municipal 
jobbery  is  not  unknown  in  New  Voi-k.  and  its  inllucntial  citizens 
are  said  to  be  steeped  to  th(?  lips  in  political  c(>rru]>tion.  iVFr. 
Mill  says  that  the  people  of  the  North-en ster'>  Sitates  linve  ap- 
parently jjfot  rid  of  all  social  injustices  and  iuetpialities  ;  that 
the  ])roportion  of  pojailation  to  capital  and  laml  is  such  ;is  to  in- 
sure abundance  for  every  able-bodied  man  ;  tii  t  they  enjoy  the 
six  points  of  the  charter,  an<l  need  luner  coui[ilii.M  ot  ]»''\erty. 
Yet  "  all  that  these  advantii,2:es  hnve  done  for  them  is.  that  the 
life  of  the  whole  of  our  sex  is  (hnotetl  to  dolliir  huiitiu'^^  :  and  of 
the  othei',  to  breedimjf  dollai-hiinters.  This."  Mr.  ^Fills  adds, 
"  is  not  a  kind  of  social  perfection  which  phihnithropists  to  come 
will  feel  any  very  eayer  desire  to  assist  in  reali/iiiix." 

Saladin  the  (rrt^at  concpiered  Syria,  AiJibia.  ]'ersi;i.  and  Meso- 
potamia. He  was  the  greatest  warrior  !i:id  coiupieror  of  his 
time.  His  ])OAvcr  ami  wcjilth  were  enormous.  Yet  he  was  fully 
jiersuaded  of  the  utter  hollowness  of  riches.  He  ordered,  by  his 
will,  thiit  consi(ler;d)le  sums  should  l>e  distriltuted  tt)  Mnssiil- 
mjuis,  Jews,  and  Chi'istiiins.  in  order  that  the  jtriests  of  th(^ 
three  reliirions  miiiht  im])loie  Ibr  him  the  mercy  olMlod.  lie 
commanded  that  the  shirt  oi-  tunitr  which  he  wore  t\t  (he  time 
of  his  death  should  be  carried  on  the  end  of  a  s))ear.  throu,u:hont 
the  Avhole  cam]>  and  at  the  Ix'ad  of  his  ;inii\ ,  and  that  the  soldier 
who  bore  it  should  ))aus(>  at  inter\r,ls.  and  say  aloud,  "  IJehold 
all  that  remains  of  the  Knijieror  Saladin  !  of  all  the  states  he 
lifid  con(pi(U'ed  :  of  idl  the  ])io\inces  he  had  subdued  ;  of  the 
liniindless  treasures  he  had  amassed  :  of  the  countless  wealth  he 
|)oss(^ssed  ;  he  I'etained.  in  dyiiii;,  nothing'  but  this  shroud  I" 

Don  .lose  do  Salamanca,  the  >j',v*'i\t  railway  contractor  of  Spaie 
Wits  in  tlu^  early  part  of  his  life  a  stu<leut  al  the    l^niversitv  of 
<«ranada.       Me   there    wore,   as  he  himself  says,    the  oldest  and 
most  worn  of  cassocks.      He   was  a  dili,<.j;ent  student ;  and  after 
leaving   colle^'e    he    became   a    member    <•('    the    Sjiaiiish    press. 


•t 


'  I.*  u  jwiftim%igi,  m. 


240 


Don  Jour  dc  Sdlmiianca. 


[chap.  XI if. 


Fi'om  tlicuce  lu^  was  ti'aiisluted  to  the  (/al)inet  of  Qiu^ou  f 'luis- 
tina,  of  wliicl)  lie  Ix'caiiH!  liiiaiicc  iiiinister.  This  In-oiiiflit  out 
his  ooianieivial  capacities,  and  inchicod  liim  to  enter  on  coiii- 
mevcial  sp(!cuhiti(.>ns.  He  constructed  railways  in  Spain  and 
Italy,  and  took  the  i)rinci})al  share  in  estahlishing  several  steam 
s]ii[)ping  coni})anies.  JJut  while  ])ursuin<j  coninierce,  he  did  nut 
forget  literature.  Onct;  a  week  Ik^  ke[)t  an  o[)en  taltle,  to  whicli 
the  foremost  men  in  literature  and  the  ]>ress  Avere  imite  I. 
They  retui-iuMl  his  hospitality  hy  in\iting  him  to  a  dinner  on 
tlic  most  economic  scale.  Jjusts  of  Shakspeare,  Cervantes,  Dante. 
Schiller,  and  other  literary  men,  adorned  the  room. 

In  returning  thanks  for  his  healih,  Salamanca  refei  reil  to  his 
university  t-'xperieuce,  and  to  his  lalxn-s  in  connection  with  the 
press.  "Then,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "the  love  of  gold  took 
possession  of  my  soid,  and  it  was  at  Mailrid  that  1  found  the 
oUject  t)f  my  adoration;  hut  not,  alas!  without  tlie  loss  of  my 
juv(Miile  illusions.  I>eli(;v(!  nu',  gentlemen,  the  man  who  can 
satisfy  all  his  wisluis  has  no  nioi-e  enjoyment.  Keep  to  tlir 
cours(^  you  Imve  entered  on,  1  advisi;  you.  llothschild's  cclo- 
brity  will  expire  on  the  day  of  his  death.  Immortality  can  Ix' 
earneil,  not  hought.  Hert;  arc;  Ix'fon;  us  tlu^  etligies  of  nun 
who  have  gloriously  (ndti\a,ted  liberal  arts  ;  their  busts  I  liavr 
met  with  in  excry  ]»art  of  Kuro])e  ;  but  nowhere  hav(!  I  found  a 
statiu'  eri'cted  to  the  honor  of  a  man  who  has  devoted  his  life  to 
making  money." 

iiiches  and  happiness  ha\'e  no  necessary  connection  with  each 
other.  In  sonui  cases  it  might  be  said  that  haj)]>iness  is  in  tlic 
inverse  ]>ro[)ortion  to  riches.  The  happiest  })ait,  of  most  men'^ 
lives  is  while  they  are  battling  with  poverty,  and  gradually 
raisinu"  tliemseh'es  abo\(,'  it.  It  is  then  that  they  deny  tlicni- 
selves  foi'  tlu!  sake  of  others  ;  that  they  sa,ve  fi'om  their  earnings 
to  secure  a  future  inch^jiendence  ;  that  they  culti\iite  their  niinds 
whil(!  lal)oring  for  their  dail}'  bi'cad  ;  that  thty^  endeavor  to 
render  themselves  wiser  and  bi^ttei-,  ha.[)pier  in  their  honu's,  and 
n»oie  useful  to  society  at  large!.  ^^'iIliam  Chaml>ers,  the  i'ldin-j 
l>ui'gh  pid)lislier,  speaking  of  the  lal)oi\s  of  his  early  years,  says,  j 
"I  look  back  to  those  limes  with  gr(>at  pleasure,  and  I  am  ill- 
most  sorry  that  1.  ha\e   not  to  go  through  the  sami;  experieuiv 


CHAP.  XTII. 


CHAP. 


XLII.] 


Itisks  of  Ii!c/n>p>>'S. 


211 


a;j;aiii ;  for  I  rc!i})0(l  morn  pleasure  when  I  had  not  a  sixpence 
ill  my  pocket,  stu(lyiui>-  in  ;i  ijfarret  in  Ivlinl)nr<fh,  tlian  I  now 
tind  wlien  sittin<;  amidst  all  the  elenaucies  and  comforts  of  a 
parlor." 

There  are  compensations  in  every  condition  of  life.  The  dif- 
fei'ence  in  the  lot  of  the  rich  and  the  ))Oor  is  not  so  ,i>i'eat  as  is 
generally  imagined.  Tli<!  I'ich  man  has  oft(ni  to  ])ay  a  heavy 
price  for  his  pi-ivileges.  ITe  is  anxious  about  liis  possessicms. 
He  may  be  the  ^icCim  of  extortion.  He  is  apt  to  l)(»  cheated. 
He  is  the  mai'k  for  eveiy  man's  shaft.  Me  is  suriounded  by  a 
host  of  elients.  till  his  ])urse  bleeds  at  every  pore.  As  they  say 
in  Yorkshii'e,  when  people  become  rich,  the  mon«^y  soon 
'•brod<llt^s  tlirou^^h."  Or,  if  en^'aj^'cd  in  speculation,  the  I'ich 
man's  wealth  mav  iiv  away  at  any  moment.  He  mav  trv  anain, 
imd  then  wear  his  heart  out  in  speculatinij^  on  the  "chances  of 
the  market."  Fdxodiii'ki.  is  a  rich  man's  <lisease.  The  thoii,i>ht 
of  his  winnings  and  losings  k(!e))s  him  sleepless.  He  is  a\v*ik(» 
by  day,  and  awake  by  ni,i,dit.  '' Riches  on  the  brain  "  is  full 
of  restlessness  and  itL;'t)ny. 

The  rich  man  overeats  or  over-drinks;  and  he  has  gout.  Imagine! 
a  ma.n  with  a  vise  fitted  to  his  toe.  liCt  tlu^  vise  descend  upon 
the  joint,  and  be  tirndy  sc-ri^wed  down.  Screw  it  again.  He  is 
in  agony.  Then  suddenly  turn  the  screw  tightei" — down,  down! 
That  is  gout !  Cout — of  which  Sydeidiam  has  said,  that,  "  un- 
like any  other  disease,  it  kills  more  rich  men  than  ])oor,  more 
wise  than  siinph^  (Ireat  kings,  emperors,  generals,  julun'rals  and 
pliilosojdiers  have  died  of  gout.  Hereby  nature  shows  her  im- 
partiality, sinct!  those  whom  she  favors  in  one  wa}-,  she  aHlicts 
in  another." 

Or,  the  rich  man  may  become  satiated  with  food,  and  lose  his 
ii])])etite;  while  the  })oor  man  relish(\s  itnd  digests  anything.      A 


b( 


'"'o'lir 


asked  alms  of  a    I'ich   ma 


n 


(('cause   lie  was   liunurv 


"  Hungry  r'  said  the  millionaire;  "how  I  envy  you  1"  Aber- 
nethy's  jirescription  to  the  rich  man  Mas,  "Live  upon  a  shilling 
a  day  and  earn  it !"  When  the  Duke  of  York  eonsultc'd  him 
aliout  his  health,  Abernethy's  answer  was,  "Out  oil' the  sup|>lies, 
and  the  enemy  will  soon  leave  tlu^  citadel."  Thn  htborer  who 
feels  little  and  thinks  less,  has  the  diuestion  of  an  ostrich;  while 


m 


in' 


HnaeM  Poverty. 


[ciiAP.  XI ir. 


tlni  noii-workor  is  uover  mHowccI  to  forgot  that  he  lias  u  stomacli. 
aiul  is  oldiycd  to  wat'/li  ovciy  moutliful  tliat  he  eats.  [lulnstrv 
and  indigestion  are  two  things  sehloni  found  united. 

Many  peo[)h'  v\\\\  the  ]H)ss('ssions  of  the  i-ieli,  but  \\  ill  v,oi 
pass  through  che  risks,  tin--  fatigues,  or  the  dangers  of  acquiring 
tli(!in.  It  is  rehiteil  of  the  Duke  of  Dantzie  that  an  ohl  conu';i(h', 
wlioni  lie  had  not  seen  foi-  many  years,  ealled  upon  him  at  his 
hotel  in  Paris,  and  seemed  amazt'd  at  the  luxury  of  his  apart- 
ments, th(^  richness  of  his  furnituiv,  and  the  magnificence  of  his 
gardens.  The  duke,  supposing  that  he  saw  in  his  old  comrade's 
lace  a  feeling  of  jealousy,  said  to  him,  hluntly,  '■  Yoti  may  ha\e 
all  that  you  see  hefoi'e  you  on  onc^  condition."  ''  What  is  that!" 
said  his  friend.  "It  is  that  you  will  j>lacu  yourself  twenty  paces 
ofl',  and  let  me  fin;  at  you  with  a  musket  a  hundred  times."  "I 
will  cei-taiidy  not  a,cce[)t  your  ofi'er  at  that  jjrice."  *'  Well,"  re- 
pli(Ml  th(^  marshal,  "to  gain  all  that  you  set^  hefore  you,  I  have 
faced  more  than  a  thousaml  gunshots,  fii-ed  at  not  more  than  ten 
])aces  off." 

The  Didce  of  Marlborough  often  fac(Ml  death.  He  becanie 
rich,  and  left  a,  million  and  a  half  to  his  descendants  to  s(piander. 
The  duke  was  a  [)enurious  man.  He  is  said  to  have  scolded  his 
servant  for  lighting  four  candles  in  his  tent,  when  Prince  Eugene 
called  upon  him  to  hohl  a  conference  lefore  the  battle  of  Bleii- 
heim.  Swift  said  of  the  Didce,  "  I  dare  h<^ld  a  Avager  that  in 
all  his  campjiigns  he  was  never  knov.ii  to  losi;  liis  baggage."  But 
this  merely  showed  his  consummate  generalship.  When  ill  and 
feeble  at  Bath,  he  is  said  to  have  walked  homo  from  the  rooms  to 
his  lodgings,  to  sa.ve  sixpence.  And  yet  this  may  be  excused,  for 
he  may  have  walkeil  home  for  exeicise.  He  is  certainh'  known 
to  have  given  a  thousand  pounds  to  a  young  and  deserving  sol- 
dier who  wished  to  jiurchase  a  c<nnmission.  When  Bolingbroke 
was  remimled  of  one  of  the  weaknesses  of  Marlborough,  he 
observed,  "  He  was  so  great  a  man,  that  I  forgot  that  he  had 
that  defect." 

It  is  no  disgrace  to  hv.  poor.  Tlie  praise  of  honest  poverty  has 
often  been  sung.  When  a  man  will  not  stoop  to  do  wrong,  when 
he  will  not  sell  himself  for  money,  when  he  will  not  do  a  rlis- 
hone.st  act,  then  his  poverty  is  most  honorable.     But  the  man  is 


lAP,  xur. 


en  AT. 


xnr.] 


Powrtji  mid  Ufippincs.s: 


L»43 


nut  poof  who  can  pay  liis  way,  and  sa\o  sometliuig  besides.  Ho 
wlio  pays  cash  for  all  that,  ho  ])urchasos  is  not  jioor,  hut  well  ofl'. 
Ho  is  in  a  ha]»pier  condition  than  the  idle  gontlonian  who  runs 
into  deht.  and  is  clothed,  shod,  and  fed  at  the  expense  of  his 
tailor,  shoe-niaker,  and  butcher,  ^fontesquitni  says  that  a  man 
is  not  poor  because  he  has  nothing,  but  he  is  poor  when  he  will  not 
or  cannot  work.  The  man  who  is  able  and  willing  to  woi-k  is 
bett(!r  off  than  the  man  who  possesses  a  thousand  crowns  without 
the  necessity  tbi-  workinsi". 

Nothing  sharpens  a  man's  wits  like  poverty.  Hence  many 
of  the  greatest  men  have  originally  been  poor  men.  Poverty 
often  ])urities  and  braci^^  a  man's  mcjrals.  To  spirited  peoj.le, 
difficult  tasks  are  usually  the  uu)st  delightful  ones.  If  we  may 
rely  upon  the  testimony  of  history.  nu'U  are  l)rave,  truthful,  and 
magnanimous,  not  in  })i'oportion  to  their  wealth,  but  in  propoi'- 
tion  to  their  smallness  of  means.  And  the  best  are  often  the 
poorest — always  supjiosing  that  they  have  suilicient  to  meet 
their  tempoi'al  wants.  A  divine  has  said  that  (lod  has  ci'oated 
poverty,  but  he  has  iu)t  created  misery.  And  thercMS  certainly 
a  great  ditference  l»etween  the  two.  While  honest  poverty  is 
honorable,  misery  is  humiliating;  inasnnich  as  the  lattei-  is  for 
the  -.uost  ]»art  the  result  of  misconduct,  and  often  of  idleness  and 
drunkenness.  Fovorty.  is  no  disgrace  to  him  who  can  ])ut  up 
with  it;  but  hv  who  tinds  the  beggar's  statf  once  get  warm  in 
his  hand  never  does  any  good,  but  a  gresit  amount  of  evil. 

The  poor  are  often  the  ha])piost  of  peo[)](^-  far  nu)r(^  so  than 
the  rich  ;  but  though  th(;y  may  be  envied,  no  one  will  be  found 
willing  to  take  their  ])laco.  Moore  has  told  tlu^  stoiy  of  the  ovei'- 
fed,  oversatistied  Eastern  despot,  who  sent  a  messenger  to  travel 
through  the  world  in  order  to  tind  out  the  happiest,  man.  When 
discoveriul,  the  messongei"  was  U-v  unliately  to  seize;  him,  take 
his  shirt  otf  his  back,  and  bring  it  to  tin;  calijdi.  T]\v  messenger 
found  the  happiest  man  in  an  Jrishman — haj)py,  dancing,  and 
tlotn'ishing  his  sliillalah.  But  when  the  end\'issador  })roceodod 
to  seize  him,  and  undress  him,  he  f(juml  that  the  Irishman  had 
got  no  shirt  to  his  back  ! 

The  portion  of  Agnr  is  tuiquestionably  tlie  best ;  '*  Remove 
far  from  nie  ^•anity  and  lies:  give  nie  neither  poverty  nor  riches  ; 


i.''i.;| 


ls^'»il 


t'l 


244 


Char'dj/. 


[ciiAi 


'.   -\!II. 


feed  me  with  food  convenient  for  me."  The  uneqiuil  distribu- 
tion of  tlie  disposition  to  1)e  happy  is  of  far  greater  importance 
than  the  unequal  distribution  of  wealtli.  The  disposition  to  be 
content  and  satisfied,  said  David  J  *  is  at  h^ast  e(|ual  to  an 

income  of  a  thousaiul  a  vear.  Mo.  ..j;nehas  observed  that  for- 
tune  confers  but  little.  Human  good  or  ill  does  not  depend  u}K)u 
it.  It  is  but  the  seed  of  good,  which  the  soul,  iutinite'y  stronger 
than  wealth,  changes  and  a])[)]ies  as  it  pleases,  and  is  thus  the 
only  cause  of  a  ]ia})]>v  or  uidiappy  disposition. 

England  is  celebrated  for  its  charities.  M.  Giuzot  declares 
that  there  is  nothing  in  this  land  that  so  tills  the  mind  of  tiie 
strangcu"  with  amazement  at  our  resources,  and  admiration  at  our 
use  of  theui,  as  the  noble  free-gift  monuuieuts  raised  on  every 
side  for  the  relief  of  multiform  sutt'ering.  The  home  i)hilanthro- 
])ist,  who  looks  a  little  dee])ei-  than  the  foreigu  visitoi-,  may  l)e 
disposed  to  take  another  view  of  the  elfects  of  money-giving. 
'J'hat  charity  produces  unnuxed  goo<^  is  very  nuich  questioned. 
(Jharity,  like;  man,  is  souietiiues  l)lir  ud  fre((uently  misguided. 
Unless  money  is  wisely  distribute  will  frequently  do  uiore 

harm  than  good.  If  charity  could  help  or  ele\ate  the  poor,  JiCMi- 
don  would  now  be  the  lia]>piest  city  in  the  world  ;  for  about  three 
millions  of  uioney  are  spent  on  charity,  and  about  one  in  every 
tliree  of  the  London  population  is  relieved  by  charitable  institu- 
tions. 

It  is  vtny  easy  to  raise  money  for  charity.  Subscription-lists 
CDUstantly  attest  the  fact.  A  rich  man  is  asked  by  some  influ- 
ential person  for  money.  It  is  very  easy  to  give  it.  It  saves 
time  to  give  it.  It  is  considered  a  relii-ious  dutv  to  give  it.  Yet 
ti)  give  money  unthinkingly,  to  give  it  without  consi<lering  how 
it  is  to  be  used,  instead  of  being  for  the  good  of  our  fellow-crea- 
tures, may  often  prove  the  greatest  injury  we  could  inflict  u})ou 
them.  True  benevolence  does  not  consist  in  giving  money.  Noi" 
can  charitable  donations,  given  indiscriminately  to  the  poor, 
liave  any  other  effect  than  to  saj)  the  foundations  of  self-respect, 
and  ))rea,k  down  the  very  outworks  of  virtue  itself.  There  ar(^ 
many  forms  of  benevolence  which  create  the  very  evils  they  ai-e 
intended  to  cure,  and  encourage  the  poorer  classes  in  the  lial)it 
of  dependence  upon  the  charity  of  others,  to  the  neglect  of  tliose 


CJIAl*.   Mil.] 


A'i'l/.s  of  Jfoini/i/ii'ii/r/. 


215 


far  liealtliier  means  of  social  well-ltciui,'  which  lie  within   their 
own  i-oiidi. 

One  would  think  that  throe  millions  a  yvav  were  sntlicient  to 
reli(;v(;  all  the  actual  distress  that  exists  in  London.  Yet  the 
(listrt^ss,  notwithstaiidinj,'  all  th(^  nionc^y  spent  njjon  it,  ^oes  on 
incrfasintj.  ]\ray  not  the  numey  sjuMit  in  charity  crcatt;  the  dis- 
ti'(  ss  it  relieves,  l)esi<les  creating  otliei-  disti'ess  whl^l  it  fails  to 
relieve  ?  Unediicated  and  idle  ])eople  will  not  exei-t  themselves 
lor  a  livini;,  when  they  liave  the  h(.])e  of  obtaining  the  living 
without  ex(!rtion.  Who  will  be  trugal  and  ]trovid<'i't  when 
charity  oti'ers  all  tliat  frugality  and  ])rovid('nc('  can  confei-  ?  Does 
not  the  gift  of  the  a(hantages,  comforts,  and  I'cwai'ds  of  iudustiy, 
without  the  necessity  of  laboring  for  them,  tend  to  sap  th(^  wvy 
foundations  of  (iiuirgy  and  sclf-rcdiance  I  Is  not  the  circumstance 
that  [)Ovei-ty  is  the  only  icipiisite  <pialification  on  tho  part  of  the 
applicant  for  cli;i,ity  calculated  to  tempt  the  [x-oplc  to  self- 
indulgence,  to  dissipation,  and  to  thosc^  cours(!S  of  life  which 
ke(!])  tluan  poor  ? 

Men  who  will  not  struggh^  and  exert  themselves  are  those 
who  are  lieljted  first.  The  worst  sort  of  ))ei-sons  ai(^  nnuh^  com- 
fortabh;  ;  while  th(>  hard-woi'king.  self-sujtporting  man,  who  dis- 
dains to  throw  himself  u}>on  charity,  is  compelled  to  ))ay  rates 
foi'  tin?  maintenance  of  the  idle.  Chaiity  stretches  forth  its  hand 
to  the  rott?nest  parts  of  society ;  it  rarely  seeks  out,  or  helps,  the 
sti-uggling  and  the  honest.  As  Carlyle  has  said,  "  ()  my  aston- 
ishing luMievolent  friends!  that  nev("r  think  of  me<ldling  with 
th(!  mateiial  while  it  continues  sound;  th;it  stress  and  strain  it 
with  new  rates  and  assessments,  till  even  it  has  given  way  and 
declared  itself  rotten ;  whereu})on  you  gi-eedily  snatch  at  it,  and 
say,  'Now,  let  us  try  to  do  some  good  ujion  itl' " 

The  charity  which  mei-ely  consists  in  giving  is  an  idle  indiUg- 
ence — often  an  idle  vict^  'I'he  mere  giving  of  money  will  never 
do  th(i  woi'k  of  ])hilanthropy.  As  a  rectMit  writer  has  said,  "The 
crimes  of  the  virtuous,  the  blas])hemies  of  the  pious,  and  the 
follies  of  the  wise,  would  scarc<^ly  fill  a  lai-ger  vohmu^  than 
th(!  cruelties  of  tlu;  humane.  In  this  world  a,  lai'ge  j)art  of  the 
occu].ation  of  th(>  wise  has  been  to  neutralize  the  ellbits  of  the 
good." 


»l 


216 


ffinr,  fo  7/(>//)  the  Poor. 


[chap.  XIll. 


"Public  olijiritics,"  said  the  late  Lord  Jiyttoii,  "are  too  often 
merely  a.  bonus  to  jMiblic  iiuloleuce  and  vi(;((.  What  a  dark  les- 
son of  the  fallacy  of  liunian  wisdom  does  this  knowledge  strike 
into  the  heart!  What  a  waste  of  tlic  ma t(M-ials  of  kindly  syin- 
pathiesl  VV  liat  a  pcrNrrsiou  iiidi\i(lual  mistakes  can  cause  even 
in  the  virtues  of  a  nation  !  (  harity  is  a,  fcclinu;  dear  to  the  pride 
oftholiuman  heart;  it  is  an  jiristocratic  emotion  I  Mohammed 
testified  his  d('(;|)  knouled<fe  of  his  kind  whvu  he  allowed  tlie  vice 
hardest  to  cmtrol — sexual  liecuitiousness;  and  eneouran'cvl  the 
virtue  c^asiest  to  ]>ractise-  -chai'ity." 

Tluu'e  ai'e  cleiLfynien  in  liomlon  who  say  that  charity  acts 
against  the  extension  of  i-eligiou  among  the  jK'Ople.  The  llev. 
Mr.  Stone  says  :  "He  is  an  unwelcome  visitor  to  the  poor  who 
brings  the  iJible  in  </ne  hand,  without  a  loaf,  a  blanket,  or  a 
shilling  in  the  other.  And  Jio  womku'.  !>y  the  prevailing  sys- 
tem of  charitalile  relief  they  haxc  been  nursed  in  the  carnal 
spirit;  tlmy  have  lieen  justitied  iu  thost;  selHsh  expectations. 
Instead  of  being  allowed  to  learn  the  great  and  salutary  lesson 
of  provid(!nc(^,  that  ther(^  is  a  nec(»ssary  connection  between  their 
conduct  and  the  ircondition,  tiny  ha\'e  hy  this  artificial  system 
been  taught  that  indigence  is  ^)/" /V.sY7/"suihcient  to  constitute  a 
claim  to  relief.  They  liaxc  been  thus  enconraged  in  improvid- 
ence, inimortalitv,  fraud,  ainl  liypoci'isy." 

The  truest  philanthropists  are  those  who  (mdeavor  to  prevent 
misery,  de])endeiice,  and  destitution  ;  and  especially  those  wdio 
diligently  lielj)  the  \wov  to  help  themselves.  This  is  the  great 
advantage  of  the  "  Pai'ochial  Mission-women  Association." 
1'hey  Itring  theuiselves  into  close  comnumication  with  the  people 
in  the  several  [>arishes  of  London,  and  endeavoi-  to  assist  them 
in  nuiny  ways,  ilut  they  avoivl  gi\ing  indiscriminate  alms. 
Their  obj(H'ts  ai'c  "t;  help  the  [)0oi-  to  help  themsehes,  and  to 
raise  thenv  by  making  them  feel  that  they  can  liel])  themselves." 
TlxM'e  is  abundant  room  for  ]ihilanthro]»v  among  all  classes  ;  and 
it  is  njost  gialifying  to  find  ladi(;s  of  high  distinction  tidcing  part 
in  this  noble  woi-k. 

Theri)  are  ninuerous  other  societies  (sstablished  of  late  years 
whieli  afford  gratifying  instances  of  the  higher  and  more  rational, 
us  well  as  really  mon;  (christian  forms  of  charity.    The  societies 


CHAP.  XIII.] 


ir,cji  r,opie\s  Wills. 


247 


for  improving  the  dwrllini^'s  (tf  tho  indiistrions  classes  ;  for  Iniild- 
iiig  baths  iuul  wjish-houses ;  for  esLiiblisliing  \\<)rkiuen's,  seanuni's, 
jind  servants'  lioiues  ;  for  (.ultiNating  ha))its  of  providence  and 
frugality  among  the  working-classes  ;  and  for  extending  the 
udvuntages  of  knowledge  among  the  [)eople--are  important 
agencies  of  this  kind.  'riies«\  instead  of  sapping  the  foundations 
of  self-reliance,  are  really  and  tndy  helping  the  ])(>oj»lo  to  heli> 
themselves,  and  ai'e  deserving  f)f  every  ap])rol)ation  and  encour- 
agement. They  tend  to  elevate  the  condition  of  the  mass  ;  they 
are  embodiments  of  jdiilanthropy  in  its  highest  form,  and  are 
calculated  to  beai'  good  fruit  tlirongh  all  tinu\ 

Rich  men,  with  the  j)rospect  of  deatii  ln-fort^  them,  are  often 
very  much  concerned  about  their  money  aliairs.  If  unmarried 
and  without  successors,  they  hud  a  consideral>le  diHiculty  in 
knowing  what  to  do  with  tlie  pile  of  gold  they  have  gathered 
together  during  their  Jift'-time.  They  must  mak'i  a  will,  and 
leaNe  it  to  sonu^body.  in  olden  times,  rich  ])eople  left  money  to 
pay  for  masses  for  their  souls.  Pei-haps  many  do  so  still.  Some 
founded  almshouses  ;  others,  hos])itals.  Money  was  left  for  the 
purpose  of  distributing  doles  to  poor  jiersons,  or  to  jxn-sons  of 
tlie  same  name  and  ti-ade  as  the  dec<^ased.  This  is  still  done, 
and  it  is  often  fruitful  of  mischief.  V\n-  instanc<',  a  person  in 
Irvine,  called  Ferguson,  made  a  largi^  fortune,  and,  when  he 
came  to  die,  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it.  Ifis  half  a 
million  of  money  couhl  not  ])rolong  liis  days  tor  an  hour — no, 
not  for  a  minute.  i!e  calh^d  iu  two  ministei.s  to  hel|>  him  to 
make  his  will.  When  he  died,  and  the  will  was  read,  it  was 
found  that  pai-t  of  tlu^  interest  on  the  mont>y  was  to  bt*  divi<led 


among  ins  relations  ot  whalcxcr  km,  and  part  among  tiie 
ministers  (before  iniendowi'd)  of  se\-eral  denominations.  '^I'lie 
gold  bait  attractedan  immense  number  of  relatives.  'I'hey  weiu; 
for  tlie  most  part  of  tin;  ])oorest  classes.  'I'he  gi-eater  number  of 
th(uu  ga\'e  up  working.  Some  took  to  diinking,  becann;  the 
nuisance  of  tlieir  resp(u*tive  neighborhoods.  an<l  soon  drank 
themselves  to  (l(>atli.  'I'Ik^  othei's,  who  did  not  drink,  also  gave 
up  work,  a)id  were  to  l)e  seen  going  about  with  their  hands  in 
tlieir  pockets.  In  short,  the  bequeathment  of  Ferguson  to  \\\h 
relatives  was  entirely  niischievous.      Hut  as  tine  drunken  lives 


a  !i?i 


I 


'I   i  ii 


248 


Hte2>hen  Girard. 


[chat.  xril. 


tell  in,  the  trustees  of  the  cliarity  ai)propriiite(l  some  of  the 
r(!veiuie  to  establish  three  scholarships  yearly  (each  t(^iiable  for 
two  years)  ;  so  that  eventually  thes  Ferguson  endowment  may 
<lo  some  good. 

The  be([ueathnient  of  Stephen  Girard,  the  wealthy  American 
me)chant,  was  of  a  ditlei-eiit  character,  (lirard  was  a  native  of 
Bordeaux.  An  orphan  at  an  early  age,  he  was  put  on  board  a 
ship  as  a  oalun-ltoy.  He  made  ^  "  first  voyage  to  North  America 
when  about  ten  or  twelve  year?-  .d.  He  had  little  (education,  and 
only  a  limited  acquaintance  with  reading  and  writing.  He 
worked  hard.  He  gi'adually  improved  in  means,  so  that  he  was 
a.l)le  to  set  up  a  i^loxw  Whih^  living  in  Wat(r  Street,  New 
Y<n'k,  he  fell  in  love  with  Polly  lium,  the  daughter  of  a  calker. 
The  father  for])adc!  tlie  marriage.  But  (lirard  })ersevered,  and 
at  length  he  won  and  manied  Polly  Lnin.  It  })i-oved  a  most 
unfortunate  marriage.  His  wife  had  no  sympathy  with  him, 
and  he  Ix'came  cross,  snappish,  moro.se.  He  took  to  sea  again  ; 
and  at  forty  he  commanded  his  own  sloo]),  and  was  engag(!d  in 
tlie  coasting-trade  between  New  York,  Philadelphia,,  and  New 
( )rleans. 

Then  he  settled  in  Philadelphia,  and  became  a  merchant. 
Il(!  devoted  his  whole  soul  to  iris  business,  for  he  hail  deter- 
mined to  beconu!  rich.  H»»  practised  the  most  I'igid  economy. 
He  performed  iiny  work  l>y  which  money  could  be  made.  He 
shut  his  heart  against  the  blandishments  of  life.  The  desire  for 
wealth  seems  to  \\',\\v  possessed  his  soul.  His  life  was  one  of 
unceasing  labor.  KenuMuber  that  (Jirard  was  un]ia])py  at  home. 
His  nature  might  haxc  been  softeniMl,  had  \w  be(>n  blessed  with 
a,  happy  wife.  ]J(^  led  ten  miserable  years  with  her,  and  tluMi 
she  l)ecame  insan(>.  SIk^  lay  for  about  twenty  years  in  the 
P(mnsylvania  iros])ital.  and  (HcmI  there. 

Yet  there  was  something  more  than  hai'dness  and  harsluiess 
in  Clirard.  Theri^  was  a  deep  umhn'-current  of  Inimanitv  in  him. 
When  the  yellow  fever  broke  out  in  I'hihidelphia.  in  ITK.'i,  his 
better  nature  showed  itself  Tlie  people  wore  smitt(^n  to  death 
by  th(»usands.  Nnrscs  could  not  l)e  found  to  attend  the  ])ati(Mits 
in  the  hospital,  It  was  legafded  as  certain  death  to  nur.se  tho 
Hick, 


CHAP.  Xlll.]     '' 


Gmird  and  IlcJm. 


249 


"  Wealtli  hiul  no  power  to  biibu,  noi'buiiiity  to  (iliariii,  the  o[>iuf.ssi)r  ; 
But  all  pcrisliod  alike  heiicath  the  scouifi^c  of  liis  luij^fcr  ; 
Only,  alas  I  the  poor,  who  hud  neither  riirii(!.s  nor  atteiidant.s, 
Crept  away  to  die  in  the  alnishouse,  home  of  the  homeless." 

It  was  at  tliis  tiiuo,  wlion  many  were  .stricken  with  fever,  tJiat 
(lirard  jibaiidoneil  liis  business,  ami  oiiered  liis  services  as  snpei'- 
intcndent  of  tlie  })ul)lie  h()s[»ltal.  lie  liad  Pettu-  iFelni  for  in's 
associate.  Clirai'd's  business  faculty  iiinuediately  displayed 
its(!lf.  His  powers  of  organization  were  ininiens(\  and  tin; 
results  of  Ids  work  were  soon  observed.  Oi'der  bei^an  to  n^ign 
where  everything  had  before  been  in  confusion.  ])irt  was  con- 
(|U(5red  by  cleanlin(>ss.  Wluu-e  there  had  been  wastefulness, 
there  was  now  thriftiricss.  Where;  tlu^re  had  been  ueglfM.'t,  theit^ 
was  unrenutting  attention,  (jirard  saw  that  every  case  was 
})roperly  attended  to.  He  himself  attended  to  tin;  patients 
atHicted  by  the  loathsome  disease,  miiustered  to  the  (lying,  an<l 
performed  tin;  last  kind  offices  tor  ihi!  dead.  At  last  tli(5  ])lagu(! 
was  stayed;  and  (Jirard  and  Ilehu  returned  to  their  ordinary 
occupations. 

The  visitors  of  the  poor  in  l*hiladel[)hia  })laced  tln^  following 
minute  on  their  books:  "Stephen  (Hrard  and  Peter  Helm, 
members  of  the  conuiuttet',  comunserating  the  calaiiut(nis  state 
to  which  th(;  sick  may  probably  be  rcduce(l  for  want  of  suitabh; 
}»ersons  to  suju'rintend  the  hosjiital,  Aoluntarily  ollered  tlieir 
s(5rvices  for  that  IxMUivoleiit  em])loynu;nt.  and  excited  a  sui'[»rise 
and  satisfaction  that  can  Ix;  better  L'oncei\-ed  than  expresse(l." 

Tlu!  results  of  Stephen  Ciirard's  industi'N'  and  economv  may  be 
seen  in  Philadelphia  in  the  beautiful  dweljing-liduses,  row 
after  row-  but  mow  than  all,  in  tlu;  magiutit-ent  marbh^  edifice; 
of  (Jirard  ( 'ollege.  He  left  the  greatei"  jiart  of  his  fortune  for 
pid)lic  purposes — priuci}»ally  to  erect  and  nmintain  a  puldic 
library  and  a,  large  orphanage.  It  might  ha\e  been  in  regard 
to  his  own  desolate  condition,  when  cast  an  orphan  among 
strangers  and  foreigners,  that  he  de\  isi>d  his  splendid  charity 
for  poor,  forlorn,  and  fatherless  children.  Om;  of  the  rooms  in 
the  college  is  singularly  fundshed.  "(tirard  had  directed  that 
a  Huitnbh;  room  was  to  ]>e  set  aj>art  for  the  preservation  of  his 
l)ooks  and  papers  ;  but  from  excess  of  [>ious  cai'e,  or  di'cad  (if  the 


^  i 


\'    \   i 


11 
i 

■    I 


I 


250 


Thomas  Guy. 


[chap.   XIII. 


next  of  kin,  uU  tlie  plain,  homely  man's  effects  were  shoveled 
into  this  room.  Here  are  his  boxes  and  his  book-ease,  his  gii( 
and  his  j»aiters,  his  pietui-es  and  his  ])otterv  ;  and  in  a  book- 
case, hangini,'  with  careh^ss  ^race  ai-e  his  Imices — old,  homely, 
knitted  braces,  tellin<f  theii'  tale  of  siiiiplicity  and  carefiilness." 
One  of  the  finest  hos])itals  in  liOJidon  is  that  founded  by 
Thomas  (xuy.  the  book-seller.  Fie  is  said  to  haAe  been  a  miser. 
At  all  e\ ents.  he  must  ha\ e  been  a  thritty  and  saviii<^f  man.  N(t 
foundation  such  as  that  of  (iny's  can  Ite  acct)mi)lishe<l  without 
thrift.  INlen  who  accomi)lish  such  things  must  deny  themselves 
foi'  the  benefit  of  others.  Thomas  Uuy  appears  <'iniy  to  have 
])rojecte(l  schemes  of  l)eiievt)leiice.  ITi^  first  built  and  endowed 
almshouses  at  Tamworth  tor  fourteen  jtoor  men  and  women. 
Avith  pensions  for  each  occn[)ant ;   and   with   a  thoughtfulness 


beeon 


ninir  his  Nocatioii, 


he  i 


urnishet 


1  th 


lem    with  a  liljrarv. 


H( 


had  himself  been  educated  at  Tamworth,  where  he  had  doidtt- 
less  s(M'n  hungry  and  homeless  persons  sud'criii;^'  from  cleaiuiess 
of  teeth  and  the  Aviuter's  r;)L!,e  :   and  tl 


le  .ilmsliouses  were  Ins 
contribution  for  their  relief  lie  was  a  l»ook  seller  in  Londoi. 
at  that  tinu'.  (Juy  ])rospered.  imt  so  mucli  by  l)ook-sellino',  as 
by  l)uyin;x  and  selliui,'  South-Sea  Stock.  When  the  l)ul)ble 
bui'st,  lie  did  not  hol<l  a  share  ;  but  he  luid  reaii/ed  a  profit  (»f 
se\'eral  hundred  thousand  p(»unds.  This  sum  he  pi'inci]>ally 
(Miiploycd  in  laiildim.''  and  eii'lowiiuj;  tlie  hospital  which  b(^•lrs 
his  name.  The  bnildiuLi;  was  i-oofed  in  befor(^  his  deatli.  in  I  724. 
Scotch  benefactors,  for  the  most  part.  Iea\  i-  their  savings  for 
the  pur]»ose  of  fonndiniL''  hospitals  fbr  educational  pnrpo.ses. 
'^riau'e  was.  first,  llcriot's  Hospital,  founded  in  I<]diubur,!j:h  Iv 
(icorLife  Heriot,  the  tjoldsmitli  of  .James  I.,  for  inaintainin,!j;  and 
educating  a.  hundicd  and  i^i^hty  Itoys.  Ibit  the  pro]»ei'ty  of  the 
hos|>ital  havinjj;  inci'cascil  in  \aluc  the  New  Town  of  i^ldin- 
bnij4;h  lieini-',  for  the  most  part,  huilt  on  (b'oi<;('  llcriot's  land  - 
the  operations  of  the  charity  l"a\e  been  n'l'eatly  extended  ;  as 
many  as  four  thousand  boys  and  j^irls  bein;.;'  now  educate<l  free 
of  expense,  in  diffei'ent  ))ai'ts  of  the  eit\'.  M'here  are  also  ({eorufe 
Watson's  I  lospital,  John  Watson's  Hospital,  the  ( )rphau  Hos 
pital.  two  Maid(^n  Hospitals,  (^uiven's  Hospital,  Donaldson's 
Hospital,   Stewart's  Hospital,  and    the   splendid    Kettes   College 


CHAP.  XIII.] 


Edacational  Char  it  Ics. 


251 


(recently  opened),  all  founded  by  Scottish  benefactors  for  the 
ordinary  education  of  boys  and  ji^irls,  and  also  tor  tlieir  higher 
education.  Edinburf^h  may  well  be  called  the  Citv  of  EducM- 
tional  Endowments.  There  is  also  the  Madfas  College,  at  St. 
Andrews,  founded  by  the  latti  Andrew  IScll,  D.  1).  ;  thf  Dollar 
Tnstitution,  founded  by  John  iMacrat  ;  and  the  Dick  Bequest, 
for  elevating  the  character  and  position  of  the  parochijil  schools 
and  school-masters  in  the  counties  of  Aberdeen,  I'anlf,  and 
Moray.  The  elfects  of  this  last  becjuest  ha\ c  been  most  salu- 
tary. It  has  raised  the  chtiracl(;r  of  the  education  given  in  the 
public  schools,  and  the  results  have  been  frecjuently  o])served  at 
( 'aniln'idge,  where  nuMi  from  the  Northern  counties  have  taken 
high  honours  in  all  departments  of  learning. 

Knglish  beuefaetors  have  recently  been  following  in  tlie  same 
dirc^ction.  Owen  {S)llege  at  M:incliesl(>r  ;  the  Hrowu  Library 
and  i\Iuseum  at  Liverpool  ;  tht-  Whitwo)-th  I'enefaction,  by 
which  thirty  scholaislii|)s  of  the'  annual  value  of  one  hiunlrtsd 
l)onnds  each  have  been  fourided  for  the  pronu)tion  of  tt^chnical 
instruction  ;  au<l  the  Scientilic  ('dlh'^e  at  !)iiiningli;im,  founded 
by  Sir  Josiah  Mason,  for  tiio  jjurjiose  of  ed\iejitii\g  the  rising 
generation  in  "sound,  extensive,  and  pi'actii'id  scientific  know- 
ledge"—from  a  series  of  excel  lent  institutions,  which  will,  we 
h()}»e,  be  followed  by  many  simihir  benefactions.  A  niiin  uccmI 
not  molder  with  tlm  green  grass  oNcr  his  grave  befoi't;  his  means 
are  ap])lied  to  noble  ]»urposes.  lie  can  niMke  his  l)enefac'tions 
while  livini;,  and  assist  at  the  outset  in.  cairving  out  his  liberal 
intentions. 

Ainoni;  th»'  yreat  benefactors  of  Lnndon.  the  mime  of  Mr. 
Peabody,  the  .\merieiin  baid<er,  cannot  be  forgotten.  It  would 
take  a  vohnne  to  discuss  his  merits,  though  we  must  dismiss  him 
in  a  paragiajdi.  Ht^  was  t)ne  of  the  first  to  see.  or.  at  all  cNcnts, 
to  make  amends  for  the  hous"Ie.ss  condition  ol"  (he  woi  king- 
classes  of  London.  In  the  formation  of  railways  under  a,nd 
above  gi'ound,  in  o]»ening  t»ut  and  widening  new  streets,  in 
ei'ecting  new  j)ublie  Ituildings,  the  dwellnigs  of  the  )»oor  were 
destroyed,  and  (heir  oc(aipan(s  swarn\ed  away,  no  one  knew 
whithei'.  l*(!rhaj)s  they  crowth'd  closer  together,  and  bred  dis- 
ease in  many  forms.      Socii^ties  and   comjtanies  wer(>  fornusd   lo 


II 


m 

I 


ml 


252 


JJi'wj'((rfot:s  of  tJie  Poor 


[chap.  XIII. 


i'e!iu!(ly  tlio  evil  to  a  certain  extent.  Sir  Si<ln(\y  Waterlow  was 
one  of  til e  first  to  lead  tiie  \vay,  and  he  was  followed  1>y  others. 
lint  it  was  not  until  Mi-,  I'eahody  liad  left  his  s[>lendid  Ikmu!- 
faetion  to  the  poor  of  London  that  any  step  eould  be  tak<'n  to 
deal  with  tlu^  e\il  on  a  huge  and  compreliensive  scale.  His 
trustees  liave  ah-eady  erc^eted  ranges  of  workmen's  dwelling:-; 
in  many  parts  of  tla;  mcitropolis,  wliieh  will,  from  tinu'  to  time. 
be  e.xtended  to  other  [>a,rts.  The  Peabody  dwidlings  furnisli  an 
exam[)le  of  what  working-men's  dwidlings  ought  to  b(\  Tliey 
are  clean.,  tidy,  and  comfortable  homes.  They  have  diminished 
drunkenness  ;  they  ha,v(^  promoted  morality.  Mr.  Peabody  in- 
tended that  his  bounty  should  ''directly  ameliorate  tlu;  condi- 
tion and  augment  tlie  comforts  of  tlie  [loor,"  and  he  hoped  that 
the  results  would  "  be  ap[)reciated,  not  only  by  the  })res(uit,  l»ut 
by  future  gc^nerations  of  the  ])eo[>h!  of  l^ondon."  From  all  that 
tlu!  trustees  have  done,  it  is  clear  tliat  they  are  faithfully  ami 
nobly  cari-ying  out  his  inti^ntions. 

All  these  benefactors  of  the  poor  wei-e  originally  men  of 
moderate  means.  Some  of  them  were  at  one  time  poor  men. 
Sir  Jose[)h  Whitworth  was  a  journeyman  engineer  with  .Mr. 
(  lenient,  of  Soutlnvark,  the  in^■entor  of  the  planing-macliinc 
Sir  Josiah  Mason  was  bv  turns  a  costei'-monuer,  iournrvinau 
l>akcr,  shoe-maker,  carpet-weaver,  jeweler,  split-ste(d  ring-maker 
(here  he  mad(^  his  first  thousand  pounds),  steel-i)en-maker,  coji- 
per-sm(^lter,  and  electro-plater,  in  whiih  last  traih^  he  made  liis 
fortune.  ^\\\  i*eal)ody  woi'ked  his  way  up  l)y  small  degrees. 
from  a  clei'k  in  Anuu'ica  to  a  banker  in  J.ondon.  'J'lieir  henc- 
factions  hav(^  been  the  result  of  self-denial,  industry,  sobriety, 
and  thrift. 

JJenevolence  throws  out  blossoms  which  do  not  always  ripen 
into  fruit.  It  is  easy  eiiougli  to  projei't  a.  benevolent  under- 
taking, l»ut  more  ditlicidt  to  cany  it  out.  The  autlior  was  once 
induced  to  tak(^  an  interest  in  a.  pro[)osed  Navvy's  Home;  but 
cold  water  was  thrown  upon  thi'  [>roject,  and  it  faile<l.  Tlie 
navvy  workmen,  who  have  madt^  th<^  railways  and  docks  of 
Kngland,  are  a  haid-working  but  a  rather  tlirifth'ss  set.  'I'hey 
are  good-hearted  fellows,  but  sonu'times  diunken.  In  can-ying 
out  their  operations,  they  often   run  great  dangei's.      They  arc 


CHAP.  XIII.] 


"  Navmjs  Homur 


253 


sometimes  so  seriously  injurtMl  Uy  -vvoiukIs  uiul  fractures  as  to  he: 
disabled  for  life.  For  instance,  in  carryin<^  out  the  works  of 
the  Manchester,  Shelfiold,  and  Lincolnshire  liailway,  there  were 
twenty-two  cases  of  comitound  fractures,  seventy -four  simple 
fractui'es,  ]>esides  burns  from  blasts,  severe  contusions,  htcora- 
tions,  and  dislocations.  One  man  lost  both  his  eves  bv  a  blast, 
another  had  his  arm  broken  by  a  blast.  Manv  lost  their  tin- 
gers,  feet,  legs,  sind  arms  ;  which  disabled  them  for  further  work. 
Knowing  the  perils  to  which  railway  lal>orcrs  were  ex])osed,  it 
occurred  to  one  of  the  most  emim-nt  contractors  to  iielp  and 
comfort  these  injured  workmen  during  their  declining  years. 
The  subject  was  brought  undei  the  author's  notice  l>y  his  frientl, 
the  late  JVEr.  Eborall,  in  the  following  words  :  "  I  have  just  been 
visiting  a  large  contractor — a  man  of  great  wealth,  and  h(i  re- 
(pU'sts  your  assistanc(^  in  establishing  a  '  JSavvy's  Jiome.'  Yon 
know  that  many  of  the  contractoi  ;■;  aitd  engineers  who  have  been 
engaged  in  the  construction  ol'  railways  are  men  who  have  ac- 
cumulated immense  fortunes  :  the  savi'igs  of  some  of  them 
amount  to  millions.  Well,  mv  friend  lIu^  contractor  not  lou"; 
since  found  a  miserable,  worn-out  old  man  in  a  ditch  by  the 
roadside.  'What,'  said  he,  '  is  that  you  ('  naming  the  man  in 
the  ditch  by  his  name.  '  Ay,' ivpiieil  the  man,  ''deed  it  is  1" 
'  Whiit  are  you  doing  there  \  '  1  have  come  here  to  die,  1 
can  work  no  more.'  '  Why  don't  you  •••o  to  the  workhouse  /• 
they  will  attend  to  your  wants  there.'  'No!  no  work-house 
I'or  me  1  If  I  am  to  die,  I  will  die  in  the  oj»en  air.'  The  con- 
tractoi- recognized  in  the  man  one  of  his  former  na\vies.  He 
had  worked  foi*  him  and  for  other  contractors  many  years  ;  and 
while  they  had  been  making  their  fortuuiw,  the  navvy  who  luid 
worked  for  tlnMii  had  fallen  so  1(jw  as  to  be  I'ound  dying  in  a 
ditch.  TIk^  contractor  was  much  all'ected.  He  thought  of  the 
numerous  other  navvies  who  must  be  wanting  similar  help. 
Shortly  after,  he  took  ill,  and  din-ing  his  illness,  thinking  of 
wliat  lie  might  do  for  the  navvies,  the  idea  occurred  to  him  of 
founding  a  '  Navvy's  Home  ;'  and  he  has  desireil  me  to  ask  you 
to  assist  him  in  bringing  out  the  institution." 

It  seemed  to  tlu;  autiior  an  admirahh;  project,  and  he  con- 
sented to  do  all  that  he  could  for  it.     But  when  tiie  persouH 
16 


I       i 


'  \ 


Hi: 


■1 


:  \\ 


i'J 


254 


"  Naviyu's  llonmr 


[ 


CHAP.   XIII. 


who  were  the  most  likely  to  contribute  to  such  :ni  institution 
were  Jipplied  to,  they  threw  such  Hoods  of  cold  w;\tor  upon  it, 
that  it  hociune  evident,  in  the  fiice  of  their  o))position,  tli;it 
"The  Navvy's  J-Eonu!"  could  not  he  established.  ()f  course, 
excuses  were  abundant.  "  Navvies  were  the  most  extravagant 
workmen.  They  threw  away  everything-  that  they  earned. 
They  spent  their  money  on  beer,  whiskey,  tally-wonu3n,  and 
Champagne.  If  they  died  in  ditches,  it  was  their  own  fault. 
They  miglit  have  est-blished  themselves  in  comfort,  if  they 
wished  to  do  so.  Why  should  other  peoi)le  jirovide  for  tlieu)  in 
old  aire  mor(^  th:»n  for  any  other  cla.ss  of  laborers  I  Then^  was  the 
workhouse  :  let  tlmm  go  there."  And  so  on.  It  is  easy  to  find 
a  stick  to  beat  a  sick  dog.  As  for  the  original  projector,  he  re- 
covered his  health,  he  f()rgt)t  to  subscribe  for  "  Th(^  Navvy's 
llonu;,"  and  the  schcnu>  fell  to  the  grouiul. 

The  (U'vil  was  sick,  the  devil  a  monk  wonlil  be  : 
The  devil  was  well,  the  devil  a  luouk  was  he." 


ch.\pti':r  XIV 


■ir- 


HEALTHY  HOMES. 

"  The  boat  securitv  for  civilization  is  tlic  dwclliiig."— 1>.  l)lsi:.\Kl,l, 


CI 


eanliiK'ss  is 


the  I'li'jraiict!  of  the  poor." — IviUf/isk  froccrli. 


"S.mitas  saiutatum,  ot  oiiniia  sanitas." — Jri.irs  jNlKNocitirs. 

"  Virtue  never  dwiilt  long  with  filth  and  iiastiuess."— Coi'NT  lU'.MroKD. 

"  INIorc  servants  wait  on  Man 
Than  he'll  take  notice  of:  in  every  path 
lie  treads  down  that  whieh  dolh  liefriend  him 
When  sickness  makes  him  pale  and  wan." — tiKniu;!',  llEiiliEUT. 

EALTH  is  said  to  he  woaltli.      Indeed,  id]  w<>alt]i  is  value- 


H 


less   without   iiealtli.      Every  man    win*   lives   by   lal 


)or, 
whether  of  uiiud  oi*  body,  re^'ards  hiNilth   as  one   of  tlu^  most 

ossession 


valuable  of  }) 


us.      Without  it.  life  woidd  be  uuei 


u^y 


d)l( 


The  human  system  has  beeu  so  framed  as  to  I'euder  enjoyment 
one  of  the  jtriucijtal  ends  of  jthysical  life.  The  whole  arran<j;e- 
nieiit,  structure,  and  funetions  of  the  hunian  system  are  beauti- 
fully a<hi|)ted  for  that  pui'])Ose. 

The  exercise  of  every  sense  is  pleasurable- — the  exercise  of 
sii^ht,  hearing,  taste,  touch,  and  nuiscular  effort.      What  can  be 


moi'(;  ])Ieasurai)ie,  tor  uistaiice,  than  tlie  teehnii:  ot  entire  liealth 
— health  which  is  the  sum  total  of  the  functions  of  life,  duly 
perfornu'd '?  '*  Enjoynunit,"  says  Dr.  Sontln\-ood  Snnth,  "is  not 
only  the  end  of  life,  but  it  is  the  only  condition  of  life  which  is 
compatibh^  with  a  protracted  term  of  existence.  The  haj)pier  a 
liunnui  beini>;  is,  the  longer  lu^  lives  ;  the  more  he  suffers,  tlu^ 
sooner  Ik;  dies.  To  add  to  (Mijoyment  is  to  lengthen  life  ;  to  in- 
ilict  ])aiu  is  to  shorten  its  duration." 

llap])iness  is  the  rule  of  healthy  existence  ;  ])ain  and  misery 
are  its  (vvceptional  conditions.      Nor  is  pain  altogether  an  evil ; 


Im    * 


I 


256 


)hahhy  Existence. 


[chap.  XIV. 


it  is  rathei-  a  saliitiuy  •wjiniing.  It  tells  us  that  we  have  traiis- 
ijidssecl  some,  j-ule,  viohvtecl  some  law,  disolx^ved  some  plnsical 
obli<fation.  It  is  a  monitor  wliich  Avaiiis  iis  to  amend  oui-  state 
of  living.  It  \  ii-tually  says,  "  Retmn  to  Nature,  observe  Ikt 
laws,  an<l  be  rcstoieil  to  happiness."  Thus,  paradoxical  tlioujili 
it  may  seem,  })ain  is  one  of  t]i(^  conditions  of  the  ]»hysieal  well- 
beiiiiff  of  man ;  as  death,  according  to  Ih;.  Thomas  Bi'own,  is  one 
of  the  conditions  of  the  enjoyment  of  life. 

To  <'njoy  physical  hajtpiness,  therefore,  the  natural  laws  must 
beconi[tlicd  with.  To  discover  and  obsei-ve  these  laws,  man  has 
been  endoweil  Mith  tlie  gift  of  reason.  Does  he  fail  to  exercise 
this  yii't  —  does  he  iiey-lect  to  comidv  with  the  law  of  his  beiny— 
then  pain  and  disease  ai-e  the  necessary  consequence. 

Man  \iolates  tin;  laws  of  nature  in  his  own  jjcrson,  and  he 
suffers  accordingly.  lie  is  idle,  and  o\'erfe(;ds  himself:  he  is 
punished  by  gout,  i]idig(^stion,  or  apoplexy.  He  drinks  too  much : 
he  l)econu's  bloated,  trend»ling,  and  weak  ;  his  ai)petite  falls  off, 
his  strength  declines,  his  constitution  decays,  and  he  falls  a 
victim  to  the  nunu'rous  disease's  which  hauiit  the  steps  of  the 
drunkard. 

Society  sutlei-s  in  llif  same  way.  It  leases  districts  undrained 
and  streets  nncleaned.  Masses  of  the  })opulation  ai'e  allowed  to 
live  crowded  togethei-  in  unwholesome  dens,  lialf  poisoned  by  the 
mephitic  air  of  the  neighboiliood.  Then  a  fever  breaks  out,  or 
a.  cholera,  or  a  ]!lagut'.  Disease  spn^ads  from  the  miserable 
al)od<'s  of  the  ])oor  into  the  comfortal)le  homes  of  the  rich,  carry- 
ing death  and  deyastation  before  it.  The  misery  and  suffering 
incurred  in  such  cases  are  nothing  less  than  willfid,  inasmuch  as 
the  knowled'^i^  nect^ssary  to  ayert  them  is  within  the  reach  of  all. 

Whertncr  any  nund)er  of  i)ersons  live  together,  the  atmos- 
phere liecomes  poisoiu'd,  unless  means  be  provided  for  its  con- 
stant change  and  renovation.  If  there  be  not  sullicient  ventil- 
ation, the  air  becomes  cha'ged  with  carbonic  acid,  piinci})ally 
the  ])roduct  of  respiration.  VVhateyer  the  borly  discharges,  l)e- 
comes  poison  to  the  body  if  intro(luc(Ml  again  through  the  lungs. 
Hence  the  innnense  im[»ortance  of  jture  air.  A  deiiciency  of 
food  may  be  considerably  less  injurious  than  a  deiiciency  of  pure 
air.     Every  [)erson  above  fourteen  years  of  age  requires  al)oiit 


CHAP.  XIV.] 


Necessity  for  Pure  Air. 


257 


six  hundred  cubic  feet  of  sliut-up  space  to  breathe  in  durinof  the 
twenty-four  hours.  If  he  sleeps  in  a  room  of  smaller  dimensions, 
he  will  suffer  more  or  less,  and  gradually  api»roach  the  condition 
of  being  smothered. 

Shut  up  a  mouse  in  a  glass  receiver,  and  it  will  gradiuilly  die 
by  re-breathing  its  o\\  ii  l»reatli.  Shut  up  a  man  in  a  confined 
space,  and  he  will  die  in  the  same  Avay.  The  I'inglirih  soldiers 
expired  in  the  Black  Hole  of  (.'alcuttn.  because  they  wanted  })\u'e 
air.  Thus  about  half  the  children  born  in  some  miinufncturing 
towns  die  before  they  are  five  yenrs  old,  ])rinci))ally  because 
they  want  pure  air.  Humboldt  tells  of  a  sailor  who  was  dying 
of  fever  in  the  close  hold  of  a  ship.  His  conu'ades  brought  hini 
out  of  the  hold  to  die  in  the  open  air.  Instead  of  dying,  he  re- 
vived, and  eventually  got  well.      He  was  cni-cd  by  the  pure  air. 

The  most  common  result  of  breathing  im[»ure  jiir,  among 
adults,  is  fever.  The  heaviest  municipal  tax.  said  Dr.  South- 
wood  Sndth,  is  i\w  fecer  fax.  It  is  estimated  that  in  Liverpool 
some  seven  thousand  ])ersons  are  yearly  attacked  l»y  fever,  of 
whom  about  five  hundred  die.  Fever  usually  attacks  }>ersons 
of  between  twenty  and  thirty,  oi-  those  who  generally  havi;  small 
families  dejtending  upon  them  for  sui)port.  Hence  deaths  from 
fever,  by  causing  widowlujod  and  orphanage,  im))()se  a  very 
heavy  tax  upon  the  inhabitants  of  all  the  large  manui'acturing 
towns.  l)r.  Play  fair,  aft(U'  carefully  considei-ing  the  (juesfion, 
is  of  o})inion  that  the  total  pecuniary  loss  inflicted  on  tlx!  county 
of  Lancashire  from  preveiitihlc  disease,  sickness,  and  death 
amounts  to  not  less  than  five  millions  sterling  anmially.  Hut 
this  is  only  the  ])hysical  and  pecuniary  loss.  The  moial  loss  is 
infinitely  gi-eatei-. 

WluM'e  are  now  the  "happy  humble  swains"  and  the  "gentle 
shepherds"  of  the  old  Knglish  })oets  f  At  the  prescnit  time, 
they  are  nowhere  to  ))e  found.  The  modern  Strephon  and 
FMiyllis  are  a  very  humble  pair,  living  in  a  clay-floored  cot- 
tage, and  maintaining  a  family  on  from  twelve  to  fifteen 
shillings  a  week.  And  so  far  from  Strephon  s])ending  his  time 
in  sitting  by  a  [)urling  stream  playing  "  ]-o\uidelays  "  upon  a 
pipe — poor  fellow  !  lie  can  scarcely  afford  to  smoke  one.  his 
hours  of  labor  are  so  long,  and  his  wages  are  so  small.     As  for 


;l 


258 


The  Arcadiaus. 


[chap.    XIV. 


Djiplnii.s,  lie,  is  a  lout,  and  can  iioitlier  read  nor  write;  nor  isliis 
Clikx!  any  ])ettei". 

riiijioas  Fletcher  thus  sung  of  "Tlie  Shepherd's  Home  : " 

"Thrice,  oli,  thrice  liap])ie  sheiiherd's  life  and  state  ! 
When  courts  are  liappiiiesse.  uiiha|)]iie  ]tinvn.s  ! 
His  c(itta<;e  low,  autl  safely  humble  f^ate, 

Shuts  out  proud  Fortune,  with  her  scorns  and  fawns  : 
N(j  feared  treason  hreiiks  his  quiet  .slee]i  : 
Sint,'iii<^  all  day,  his  floi  Ics  he  leurns  to  keep  ; 
Himself  as  innocent  as  are  his  simple  sheep. 

"  His  certain  life,  that  never  can  deceive  him, 
Is  full  of  thousand  sweets  and  licli  content  : 
Tiie  smooth-leaved  heechos  in  the  lield  receive  him 
With  coolest  shades,  till  noor.tide's  Vdffe  is  spent  : 
His  life  is  neither  tosr  in  l)oist'rous  seas 
Of  troublous  world,  nor  lost  in  slothful  ease  ; 
Phrased  and  full  blest  he  lives,  when  liu  his  (!od  can  please." 

Wlx're,  oh  wliere,  has  tins  gentk;  sl)e])lierd  gone  ?  Ha\ c 
s})inning-jennies  swaUowed  liim  uj)  1  Ahis  !  as  was  ohserved  of 
Mrs.  Han-is,  '*  there's  no  sicli'u  person."  Did  he  ever  exist  I 
We  have  a  strono-  susjticion  that  lie  never  did,  save  in  the  im- 
aginations ci'  j)oets. 

IJetbre  the  age  of  i-ailroads  and  sanitary  reformers,  the  pns- 
toral  life  of  tla^  Arcadians  was  a  beautiful  myth.  The  Blue- 
hook  men  h;id  (exploded  it  forever.  The  agricultural  lal)orers 
have  not  decent  houses — only  mis(!ral>le  huts — to  live  in.  They 
have  but  few  })ro\isions  for  cleanliness  or  decency.  Tw^o  rooms 
for  sl(?eping  and  living  in  are  all  that  tlu;  l<irg(^st  family  can 
afford.  Sometimes  they  have  only  one.  The  day-room,  in 
addition  to  the  fnmily,  contnins  the  cooking  utensils,  the  washing 
a])paratus,  agricultural  im])lements,  and  dirty  clothes.  In  the 
sloe])ing-apartmej(t,  the  pai'ent^;  au(  their  children,  boys  nnd 
girls,  are  indiscriiainately  ix<  i,  ann:  iVe(piently  a  lodger  slet^its 
in  tlu!  same  and  only  i  ^liich  has  '!<'nerally  no  window — 

the  openings  in  the  hai  ached  roof  imitting  light,  and  ex- 
posing the  family  to  e\iiy  vici-situde  of  tla^  weather.  Tin; 
husband,  having  no  comfort  at  iiome,  sec^ks  it  in  the  becu'-shoj). 
The  ehildrtvn  gi-ow  up  without  flecency  oi-  self  restrnnt.  As  for 
the  half-hearted  wives  and  daughters,  their  lot  isA\ry  miserable. 


CIIAI'.    XIV.] 


Tint  Rural  Poor. 


259 


It  is  not  often  tlnit  village  aftiiirs  are  nia(l(!  llic  siil>)(H;t  ot"  dis- 
ciissiou  ill  n(;w.s})a|)oi's,  for  tlio  jiower  of  the  press  has  not  yet 
reached  remote  country  ])hices.  But  W(!  do  liear  occasionally  of 
wliole  vilhii^es  being  pulled  down  and  razed,  in  order  to  prevent 
thein  ''becoming  nests  of  beggars' brats."  A  member  of  Par- 
linment  di<l  not  hesitate  to  confess  befoi<^  a  J'ai-liamentary  com- 
inittfM^  that  he  "  had  ])ulled  down  between  twenty-six  iind  thirty 
cottages,  which,  had  they  been  left  standing,  would  have  been 
inhabited  by  young  married  couples."  And  what  beconnss  of 
the  dispossessed?  Tliey  crowd  together  in  tli«f  cottages  which 
are  left  staii<liiig,  if  their  owners  will  allow  it;  or  th(\v  crowd 
into  th(!  work-houses  ;  or,  more  generally,  they  crowd  into  the 
towns,  where  there  is  at  least  souu;  lio[)e  of  em[)loyment  for 
themselves  and  tlieir  children. 

Our  manufacturing  towns  are  not  at  all  what  tluiy  ought  to 
])(; ;  not  sutHciently  pure,  wholesome,  or  well-regulated.  ]>iit 
tlu!  rural  laborers  regard  e\en  the  misery  of  towns  as  prefevablo 
to  the  worse  misery  of  the  rural  districts  ;  and  y«!ar  by  yt^ar  they 
crowd  into  the  seats  of  manufacturing  industry  in  search  of 
homes  and  em[)loymeiit.  This  speaks  volumes  as  to  the  actual 
stat(^  of  our  "  ])oaste(l  peasantry,  their  country's  pride." 

The  intellectual  condition  of  the  country  laborers  st-ems  to  be 
on  a  par  with  tlieir  ])hysical  state.  Those;  in  thc!  Westcn-n  coun- 
ties are  as  little  civilized  as  the  poor  petiph;  in  the  east  of  1  Lon- 
don. A  re]>ort  of  the  Diocesan  Board  of  th(!  county  of  Here- 
ford states  that  "  a  great  deal  of  the  su))erstition  of  past  ages 
lingcM's  in  our  ])arishes.  The  obser\'ation  of  liu;ky  and  unlucky 
days  and  seasons  is  ])y  no  means  unusual  ;  the  phases  of  the 
moon  are  regarded  Avitli  great  respect — in  one,  medicine  may  be 
taken,  in  another  it  is  advisable  to  kill  a  pig  ;  over  the  doors  of 
many  houses  may  be  found  twigs  placed  crosswise,  and  nciver 
suffc^red  lu  los(;  tluar  cruciform  ])osition  ;  and  tluj  horseshoe  pi'(!- 
serv(;s  it;-,  old  station  on  many  a  stable-door.  Charms  are  d(^ 
v(juHy  believed  in  ;  a  ring  made  fi-om  a  shilling,  offercsd  at  tlu! 
communion,  is  an  undoubted  cur(!  for  fits  ;  hair  plucked  from  tliQ 
crop  on  an  ass's  shoulder,  and  woven  into  a  chain,  to  be  put 
round  a  child's  neck,  is  })owerful  for  tlu;  same  purpose  ;  and  the 
hand  of  a  corpse  applied  to  the  neck  is  believed  to  disperse  a 


I, 


;'i:;i 


1^1 


M 


'.  '^ 


>  ii 


^.     \ 


260 


Healthy  names. 


[chap.  XIV, 


wen.  The  '  evil  eye,'  so  long  dreaded  in  unodncated  connti'ies, 
has  its  terrors  among  us  ;  and  if  a  person  of  ill  life  be  snddenlv 
called  away,  there  are  generally  some  who  hear  his  '  tokens,'  or 
see  his  ghost.  There  exists,  besid»'s,  tlu;  custom  of  comniuni 
eating  deaths  to  hives  of  bees,  in  the  belief  that  they  invariably 
abfindon  their  owners  if  the  intelligence  be  withhehl." 

Sydney  Hmith  has  said,  with  more  truth  than  elegance,  that 
in  the  infancy  of  all  nations,  even  the  most  civilized,  men  lived 
the  life  of  i>igs;  and  if  sanitary  reporters  had  existed  in  times 
past  as  they  do  now,  we  should  doubtless  have  received  an  ac- 
count of  the  actual  existence;  and  <lomestic  accommodation  of 
the  old  English  "swains"  and  "she])herds,"  very  different  from 
that  given  by  Phineas  Fh^tcher.  Even  the  mechauii'S  ot  this 
day  are  more  comfortably  hxlged  than  the  gi'e.it  landed  gentry 
of  the  Saxon  and  Norman  pt'riods;  and  if  the  ti'uth  coidd  be  got 
at,  it  would  be  found  that,  bad  as  is  the  state  of  our  agricultural 
laborers  now,  the  condition  of  thcii-  forefathers  was  no  Ixitter. 

The  tirst  method  of  raising  a.  man  above  the  life  of  an  animal 
is  to  ])i'o\ide  him  with  a  healthy  hou)''.  Tlie  home  is,  after  all, 
the  best  school  for  the  world.  ('Iiildrcn  grow  up  into  men  and 
women  there;  they  iRd)ilie  theii-  Ix'st  and  their  worst  morality 
ther(^;  and  tlieir  morals  and  intellig(Mice  are  in  a  great  measui'e 
well  oi-  ill  trained  there.  IVIen  can  only  be  really  and  iv\\\\  hu- 
manized and  ci^•iH/ed  tln'ouL;h  tlie  institution  of  th(>  home. 
There  are  domestic  j)urity  and  moi'al  lite  in  the  y-ood  homci,  and 
indiviilual  detihMuent  and  moi'al  d(>ath  in  the  bad  one. 

The  school-mastei-  has  really  very  little  to  do  with  the  forma- 
tion of  tlu;  characters  of  children.  These  are  formed  in  the  honit; 
by  th(!  fathei-  and  mother  by  lirotliers.  sisto-s.  and  comi)anions. 
It  does  not  matter  how  complete  may  l»e  the  education  gixfu  in 
schools.  Tt  may  include  tlu^  whoh;  range  of  knowledge  ;  yet  if 
the  scholar  is  undei*  the  ntn-essity  of  daily  returning  to  a  home 
which  is  indecent,  vicious,  and  misei-able,  all  this  learning  will 
])i'ove  of  comparati\<'ly  litth'  Aalue.  Character  and  dis|)osition 
i^re  tlie  result  of  lionie  training;  and  if  1)ies((  are.  through  bad 
physical  and  moial  conditions,  deteriorated  and  destroyed,  tlie 
intellectual  cultuie  ac(piired  in  the  school  may  prove  an  instru 
mentality  for  evil  rather  than  for  good, 


CHAP.  XIV.] 


Influence  of  the  Home. 


261 


Tlie  home  should  not  be?  cou.sitleied  iiieiely  as  an  eating  and 
sleeping  place;  but  as  a  place  Avhoro  self-respect,  may  be  ])reserv- 
ed,  and  comforts  secured,  and  domestic  pleasures  enjoye^d.  Thi-ee- 
fourths  of  the  ])etty  vices  which  degrade  society,  and  swell  into 
crimes  which  disgrace  it,  would  shrink  before  the  inlhieuce  of 
self-resjKvt.  To  be  a  place  of  hap]>iness.  exercising  bciicHcial  in- 
fluences upon  its  members,  and  esj)eci;diy  ui)on  the  children 
growing  up  within  it,  the  home  must  be  pervaded  V)V  the  sjnrit 
of  comfort,  cleanliness,  afl'ection,  and  intelligence.  And  in  order 
to  secure  this,  tla'  presence  of  a  well-ordered,  industrious  and 
educated  woman  is  indispensable.  So  mucli  (h'jxMids  upon  the 
woman,  that  we  might  almost  prout^ince  tlie  lia]>|»iness  or  uu- 
happiness  of  the  borne  to  be  woman's  work.  No  nation  can 
advance  except  thi'ough  the  improvement  of  tlie  luition's  homes; 
aid  tliey  can  only  be  improNcd  tlirough  the  insTi'unu'ntrility  of 
women.  '^I'liey  nnist  kiion'  how  to  niidvc  homes  comfortable;  and 
befoi'e  they  can  know,  tJK'V  must  h.-ne  hv^^^\  taught. 

Wimien  most,  lla'refore.  Iimnc  sutHcient  ti-aining  to  tit  then) 
for  their  duties  in  real  life.  Their  ediieiition  should  be  conduct- 
ed thi'iaighout  with  a  view  to  their  futui-e  position  as  wives, 
mothers,  nnd  housewixcs.  Ibit  among  ;dl  classes.  e\en  the  high- 
est, the  eilucaiion  of  girls  is  rarely  ccudnctcil  with  this  object. 
Among  the  working-j)et>plc.  the  girls  are  sent  out  to  work  ; 
among  tlu^  highei'  chtsscs.  the\'  are  sent  out  to  learn  a  few  (lashy 
accomplishments  :  and  men  are  left  to  pick  from  them,  very 
often  with  little  judgment,  the  future  wixcs  and  mothers  of 
England. 

Men  themselves  attach  little  or  no  imp')rtance  to  the  intelli- 
gence or  industrial  skill  of  women  ;  and  they  only  discovei- their 
valu(^  when  they  lind  their  homes  stupid  and  cheerless.  Men 
are  caiight  l)y  the  glance  of  u  briuht  eye.  I»y  a  pair  of  cherry 
cliei^ks,  by  a  handsome  figure:  an<l  when  they  "fall  in  love,"  as 
the  ]>]n'ase  goes,  they  never  bethink  them  of  whether  the  "love(l 
one  "  can  mend  a  shirt  or  cook  a  |>uilding.  .And  yet  the  most 
st'utimental  of  husbands  must  come  down  from  his  "ec  statics" 
so  soon  as  the  knot  i.s  tied  ;  and  (hen  lie  soon  eiiou!,di  tiiids  out 
that  the  clever  hands  of  a  woman  are  woi'th  faV  moie  th.m  her 
bright  glances;  and  if  tht^  shirt  and  pudding  ([ualitications  be 


^K 


!       M! 


::L'i 


2()2 


Uithcjllthj  IfoiiKis. 


[chap.   XIV. 


{ibsent,  tlicii  won  to  the  iiiilun)])y  in;iu,  jiiul  Avoe  also  to  tlie  iiii- 
li'M'l'y  woniiiu  I  If  the  sul),staiitial  ohniieiit  of  physical  comfort 
bo  iibKciit  from  tho  liome,  it  soon  bcccmes  hateful  ;  the  wife, 
notwithstM-iidiiig  all  her  jj;()od  looks,  is  iieyhu^ted  ;  and  th(!  ]mblic- 
honse  se})arates  those  whom  the  law  and  the  church  have;  joined 
to_i>eth(n'. 

Men  are  really  desperately  i,iy;uorant  res])ectin,q  the  home  de- 
])artment.  If  they  thouij^ht  for  a  uionieut  of  its  importauce,  they 
would  not  b(^  so  I'eady  to  rusli  into  ]tremature  housekee|>liiif. 
Ignorant  men  select  e(pially  ignoi-ant  women  for  theii"  wives; 
and  these  introduce  into  the  world  families  (jf  children  wlioin 
tlu^y  are  iitterly  incompetent  to  train  as  rational  or  domestic 
b(un;4s.  The  home  is  no  home,  but  a  mere  lodging,  and  often  a 
very  comfortless  one. 

We  speak  not  mer(dy  oi' the  [looi-est  laborei's,  but  of  the  best- 
paid  workmen  in  the  lar<;'e  manufacturim;-  towns.  Men  earnini;- 
from  two  to  three;  pounds  a,  we(;k — or  more;  than  th(>  M\'eray;(;  j)ay 
of  curates  and  bankers'  clerks-  -tliou,>;h  spendin/j;  considerabli' 
amounts  on  beer,  will  often  sjjrudyc  so  small  a  ])art  of  their  in- 
come as  half  a-  (M'own  a,  week  to  provide  decent  homes  for  theni- 
selvi,'s  and  their  childi'cn.  A\'lia(  is  (he  conseipUMU'c  J  They 
de,!j;i'ade  themsel\-es  and  theii'  families,  'i'hey  crowd  together, 
in  foul  neighboihoods,  into  dwellings  possessing  no  element  of 
health  and  decency;  where  cncu  the  small  rent:d  which  they  ))ay 
is  in  excess  of  the  ai;conunodation  they  i-eceive.  'J'he  results  arc 
inevitabl(> — loss  of  self-respect,  d<';;iadation  of  intelligence,  failure 
of  ))liysical  health,  and  premature  death.  Kxcn  the  highest- 
minded  philtt^io|»her,  |)la('i'd  in  such  a  situation,  woidd  gradually 
gi'avitatc  toward  brutality. 

I)ut  the  amount  thus  sa\'e<l,  or  ratliei'  not  e\p(>nded  on  liouse- 
i'(mt,  is  not  t^conomy  ;  it  is  reckless  wast(^  The  sii-kness  caused 
by  the  l»atl  dwelling  inxolxcs  fre(|uent  interruptions  of  woi'k, 
and  drains  upon  the  sa\  ings-bank  or  the  lienelit  society  ;  and  a 
final  and  rapid  descent  to  the  poor-rates.  Though  the  loss  to 
the  middle  and  upper  classes  is  great,  tlic^  loss  is  not  for  a 
moment  to  be  compai-ed  with  that  which  falls  upon  the  working- 
classes  themsehos.  through  their  neglect  in  pi'oviding  wholesoiin' 
and  comfortable  dwidlings  for  their  fanniies.      It  is,  [lerhaps,  not 


CHAP.  XIV.] 


Health  and  Drunkenness. 


263 


saying  too  much  to  aver  that  one-half  tlie  uionry  ex|KMi(led  by 
benefit  societies  in  large  towns  may  be  set  down  as  pecuniary 
loss  arising  from  bad  and  inihealthy  homes. 

But  there  is  a  worse  consecjuence  still.  The  low  tone  of 
jdiysical  health  thereby  produced  is  o\u\  of  the  chief  causes  of 
<lrunkenness.  Mr.  Chadwick  once  remonstrated  with  fin  ap- 
parently sensible  workman  on  the  ex[)enditure  of  half  his  income 
on  whisky.  His  reply  was,  "  Do  you,  sir,  cc^ne  and  live  lun-c, 
iUid  v<'ii  will  drink  whiskv  too."  ^Fr.  Lee  smvs  :  "  I  would  not 
be  understood  that  habits  of  intoxication  iire  irliolhj  due  to  a 
defective  sanitary  condition  ;  l)ut  no  person  can  have  tlie  expe- 
rience I  have  had  without  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  nnheultJn/ 
and  unhappy  homes — loss  of  vital  and  conseipu^itly  of  itu/ustrad 
energy,  and  a  consciousness  of  inability  to  control  ext(>rnal  circum- 
stances— induce  thousands  to  esca])e  from  mis(M'abl(>  depression 
in  the  tem|»orary  excitenuuit  of  noxious  drugs  aud  intoxicating 
liquors,  "jhey  are  like  the  seamen  who  struggh^  for  a  while 
against  tlu^  <!vils  by  which  they  are  surrounded,  but  at  last,  see- 
ing no  hope,  stup(*fy  thems(!lves  M'itli  drink,  and  i)erisli." 

It  may  be  said,  in  excuse,  that  working-jn'ople  uiust  nece.isarily 
occupy  such  houses  as  ai'e  to  \)o  ha<l,  and  [tay  llu^  I'enliil  asked 
for  them,  bad  and  unwholesome  tliougii^tliey  be.  I  Jut  thei'e  is 
such  a  thing  as  su])ply  and  d«Mnand  ;  and  tln^  dwelliugs  now 
su)>plied  are  really  those  which  are  most  in  demand,  because  of 
their  lown»'Ss  of  rental.  Were  the  working-classes  to  shun  un- 
w]ioh\s()me  districts  and  htw-priccMl  dwellings,  and  rent  only  such 
tenenumts  as  wei-e  calculated  to  fidtill  the  re(|uirements  (»f  a 
wholesouu'  and  cleanly  home,  the  owiu'rs  of  pro|>erty  would  lie 
(•om))eIled  to  impi'o\-e  the  charactei"  of  their  houses,  and  rais(^ 
them  to  the  re(|uired  slaiidanl  of  comfort  and  accomodation.  'J'he 
real  I'emedy  must  lie  with  tin;  working-classes  (heniseh-cs.  Ii(!t 
them  determine  to  raise  their  standai'd  of  icnlal,  and  the  rel'orm 
is  in  a  great  measur(»  accomplished. 

W(>  have  ali'ea<ly  shown  how  masters  havc^  done  a  gj'eat  deal 
for  the  better  accommodation  of  iheir  work-people  ;  how  the 
benj'factors  of  the  poor,  such  as  Mr.  I'eabody  and  Lady  llurdett 
(*outtH,  have  promoted  the  buildingof  healthy  homes.  \v\  the 
result  nuist  dep(»nd  upon  t]u3  individual  ac'tion  of  the  working- 


I  ' 
I  ; 


lis 


i% 


\    #1 


1 1 '  1.! 


264 


Wholesome  Dwellings. 


[chap.  XIV. 


classes  themselves.  When  they  have  the  choice  of  living  in  a 
dwelling  situated  in  a  healthy  locality,  and  of  anothei"  situated 
in  an  imhealtliy  locality,  they  ougjit  to  choose  the  former.  But 
very  often  they  do  not.  There  is  |Hrliii|>s  a  dilfeienee  of  sixpence 
a  week  in  the  rental,  and,  not  knowing  the  advantages  of  health, 
they  take  the  unhealthy  <lwelling  because  it  is  the  cheapest. 
But  the  money  that  sickly  ])eople  have  to  ))ay  for  pliysic,  doctors' 
bills,  and  loss  of  wages,  larmoi-e  than  exceeds  the  amount  sa^'ed 
by  cheaper  rental,  not  to  speak  of  the  loss  of  comfort,  the  want 
of  cleanliness,  and  the  dejn-ession  of  s])irits  which  is  inevitable 
where  foul  air  is  breathed. 

To  build  a  wholesome  «lwelling  costs  little  more  than  to  build 
an  unwholesome  one.  What  is  wanted  on  the  ])art  of  the  builder 
are,  a  knowdedge  of  sanitary  conditions,  and  a  willingness  to 
[U'ovide  the  pro]>er  acconnnodation.  The  s])aee  of  'jfround  covered 
by  the  dwelling  is  the  same  in  both  cases;  the  <[uantity  of  bricks 
and  mortar  need  be  no  greater  ;  and  pure  air  is  of  the  sanu' 
price  as  foid  aii-.      J^ight  costs  nothing. 

A  healthy  home,  presided  over  by  a  thriftv,  cleanly  woman, 
may  be  the  abode  of  comfort,  of  \i)'tue,  and  of  ha])piness.  It 
may  be  the  scene  of  every  ennobling  relation  in  family  life.  It 
may  be  endeared  to  a  ^inin  by  many  delightful  memories — by 
the  affectionate  voices  of  his  wife,  his  children,  and  iiis  neighbors. 
Such  a  lionnf  will  be  regarded,  not  as  a  mere  nest  of  conunon 
instinct,  lavt  as  a  training-ground  for  young  immortals,  a  sanc- 
tuary for  the  heart,  a  refuge  IVom  storms,  a  sweet  resting-j)lacc 
aftei'  laboi',  a  (Consolation  in  sorrow,  a  pride  in  success,  ami  a  joy 
at  all  times. 

iMtich  has  lieen  done  to  sjiread  the  doctrines  of  sanitary  science. 
ThtM-e  is  no  jnystery  attached  to  it  ;  otherwise  we  siiould  have 
had  pi'ofessors  teaching  it  in  colleges,  and  graduates  ]tra('tising 
it  among  the  jjcople.  It  is  only  of  recent  years  that  it  has 
receivcid  a  nominal  iccognition  ;  and  we  «)vve  it,  not  to  tlu^  nuMliial 
faculty,  but  to  a  barrister,  that  it  has  r(>ceiyed  genei'al  recogni- 
tion, and  ])cen  end)0(lied  in  many  important  acts  of  I'arliamcnt. 

Kdwin  Chadwick  has  not  y(^t  received  ordinary  justice  from 
Ids  contemporaries.  Though  he  has  been  one  of  tJie  most  indefati- 
gable and  succ(sssfvd  workers  of  the  age, and  has  greatly  iniluenccd 


■  U 


ciiAr.  XIV.] 


Edwin  ChadwicL 


265 


the  legislation  of"  liis  time,  he  is  piohnbly  less  known  than  many 
a  fourth-mte  Pailiamentary  talker. 

Mr.  t'hadwick  helonj^'s  to  a  Laneashire  family,  and  was  boi-n 
near  Manchestei-.  He  K-ceiAcd  his  education  chielly  in  Lon<lon. 
Havin;^-  chosen  the  law  for  his  ]>rofession.  he  was  eni'olh^d  a 
student  of  the  J nner  Tenii)le  in   Jiis  twtMitv-si.xth  year.     There 

V  repoitinir 


le 


It  1 


eat  nis  way 


to  tl 


le  l)ar,  )iiaintauiini>'  lums( 


If 


and  writing  ioi"  the  daily  press.  Jje  was  not  a  man  of  any 
extraordinary  amount  of  learning:  l»t:t  he  was  a  sagacious  and 
persevering  man.  He  was  rea«ly  to  cordiont  any  amount  of 
labor  in  ])ros(M'uting  an  object,  no  mattci-  how  remote  its  attain- 
ment might  at  iii'st  sight  a])pea)'  to  be. 

At  an  early  jx'riod  in  liis  cai'eer,  Kdwin  C'hadwick  ]»ecame 
possessed  by  an  idea.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  tJKM'oughly 
})osses.sed  by  an  idea,  provided  its  aim  and  end  be  beneticent.  It 
jjives  a  coloi'  and  bias  to  the  whole  of  a  man's  life.  The  idea 
was  not  a  new  one  ;  Imt  lu'ingtaki'n  up  Ity  an  earnest,  (nei'g(^tic, 
and  hark-woi'king  man,  there  was  some  hop(^  for  the  piaetieal 
working-out  of  his  idea  in  the  actual  life  of  Inniianity.  It  was 
neither  more  ntir  less  than  th(^  sanitary  idea — the  germ  of  the 
sanitary  movement. 

\V(^  nuist  now  briefly  state  how  lie  worked  his  way  to  its 
practical  realization.  It  a))])ears  that  Mi-.  Moi-gan,  the  (rovern- 
ment  actuary,  hatl  stated  l>efore  a  Pai-lianientary  <'omnutt«^e,  that 
though  the  ciivumstaiictvs  of  the  ndildle  classjss  had  improved, 
tin  ir  "  ex[)ectati<»n  of  life"  had  not  lem;tliened.  'I'his  being 
dianu^tricaily  o[)posed  to  our  student's  idea,  lie  endeavored  to 
demonstrate  the  fallacy  of  the  actuary's  opinion.  ll(*  read  up 
and  sifted  numerous  statistical  documents — l)lue-books,  life- 
tables,  and  population-tables.  Jle  bored  his  way  through  the 
cinnbi'ous  ],ile,  and  brought  an  acciunnlation  of  facts  from  tlu^ 
most  unlooked-for  (piaitei-s,  ibr  the  jxirpose  of  illustrating  his 
idea  and  elucidating  his  master-thought. 

The  I'csult  was  jmblished  in  the  \l'('f<ftnhfnft'r  /\'ei'i<'ir  Ibr  April, 
1828.  Mr.  Chadwick  demonsti'ated,  by  an  immense  ai-ray  of 
facts  and  argunuMits,  that  the  circumstances  which  surrotnnl 
human  l)eings  nmsf.  ha\('»an  inlluence  upon  tiuMr  luialth  ;  that 
health  y/i</.s/  impro\<iwith  an  imiirovement  of  thes»>cir(!umstanci!H; 


I 


'I': 


*liil 


'l^i  i 


200 


Edwui  Chadwlck. 


[chap.  XIV. 


that  many  of  the,  diseases  and  conditions  unl'avorabie  to  hnmau 
life  were  under  man's  control,  and  caj)able  of  l)eing  removed  ; 
tliat  tlie  ])ractice  of  vaccination,  tlie  diminution  of  liard  drinkiug 
among  tlic  middk'.  and  U}i})er  classes,  tlie  ijicrease  of  habits  of 
cleanliness,  the  improvements  in  medical  science,  and  the  better 
construction  of  streets  and  houses,  miist  according  to  all  medical 
aii'l  }K)pular  expeivience,  have  contributed  a  priori,  to  lengthen 
lif(»;  and  these  he  |>roved  by  a  citation  of  facts  from  numerous 
authentic  sources.  In  slioit,  j\Ir.  Morgan  was  wrong.  The 
"  exp(^ctancy  of  lif<!,"  as  is  now  universally  admitt(;d,  has  im- 
proved and  is  rapidly  im}>roving  among  tlie  better  classes  ;  but 
it  was  never  thoroughly  demonstrat(>d  until  Edwin  (,'liadwick 
undertook  tlie  discussion  of  the  ([uestion. 

Anotlujr  article,  which  Mr.  (jliadv.ick  i)ublished  in  the  Lon- 
don lie  view  in  1S2U,  on  "  l'i"eventiv(i  i*olice,"  was  ri^ad  by 
Jeremy  i>entliani,  then  in  his  eighty-second  yeai-,  who  so  mucli 
admired  it  that  he  craved  an  introduction  to  the  writer.  The 
consequence  was  the  forncitiou  of  a  friendship  that  lasted  with- 
out interruption  until  the  death  of  the  ])hilosopher  in  18.'J2. 
Mr.  ]>entham  wished  to  engage  the  whole  of  his  young  friend's 
time  in  assisting  him  with  tlu;  pre[)a.ration  of  his  "  Adminis- 
trative ( 'ode,"  and  he  olfered  to  place  him  in  independtnit  cir- 
cumstances if  he  won  Id  des(>t(*  himself  exclusively  to  the  ad- 
A'ancement  of  his  \  iews.      The  otl'er  was,  liow(^vei',  declined. 

iVIr,  ("hadwick  completed  his  law  studi(is,  and  was  called  to 
the  bar  in  iSoNcmber,  IS.'JO.  J^e  was  prejiaring  to  enter  uj)on 
the  practici!  of  comiiutn  law,  occasionally  contributing  articles  , 
to  the  Wi'xfiiiiiiKtn\  when  he  was,  in  iN.'Jl',  appointed  a  commis- 
sioner, in  conjnnction  with  JJr.  Southwood  Smith  and  Mr. 
Tooke,  to  in\ estimate  the  (piestion  of  fai-tory  labor,  which  Lortl 
Ashh^y  and  Mr.  Saddler  wert^  at  that  time  strongly  }»ressing 
u])on  [)ublic  attention.  The  sanitary  idea  again  found  oppor- 
tunity for  I'xpression  in  the  report  of  the  commission,  which  r«v 
ferred  to  '' dei'ective  drainage,  ventilation,  water  su])ply,"  and 
th(^  like,  as  causes  of  disease*  acting,  ciuicurrently  with  excivss- 
i\('  Un\,  to  de]tress  (he  lieallh  and  shorten  the  lives  of  the  fac- 
tory population.  • 

in  the  same  year  (  IS.'{2)  an  inquirtant  commission  of  in<|niry 


CHAP.  XIV.] 


Tlii^  Stuutarij  Idea. 


207 


:-i 


wjis  a|»i»oJute(l  ])y  Lord  Gi't'y's  ( Tovornnient  in  leforence  to  the 
o])er;itiou  of  tlie  poor-law.s  in  Eii<,'liiii(l  and  Wales.  Mr.  Cliad- 
wiek  Wi\s  apjiointed  one  of  tlie  assistant  commissioners,  foi'  the 
jmipose  of  taking  evidence  on  tlie  suhjfH't ;  and  the  districts  of 
London  and  lU^ksliire  were  allotted  to  him.  His  i'e[)ort,  ]»nb- 
HsIkhI  in  the  following  year,  was  a  nu*d«0  t)f  what  a  re[>ort  shonld 
he.  It  was  full  of  information,  admirably  classiiied  and  ar- 
rangtnl,  and  was  so  j-acy,  by  virtue  of  the  facts  brought  to  light, 
and  th(?  car'-  taken  to  preserve;  the  ^erv  words  of  the  witnesses 
as  they  wcic  spoken,  that  the  I'eport  ma\'  be  read  with  interest 
by  the  most  iineterate  enemy  of  blue-books. 

j\[r.  Chadwick  showed  Jiimself  'so  thoroughly  a  master  of  the 
subjt^ct,  his  suggestions  were  so  full  (A'  practical  v.-ilue,  that  lie 
was,  shortly  alter  the  jmblication  of  the  report,  advanced  from 
th(!  ])ost  of  assistant  commissioner  to  that  of  chief  commissioner; 
and  he  largely  shared,  with  Mr.  Senior,  in  the  labors  and  hf)nors 
of  the  commissioners'  re])ort  submitted  to  the  irt)use  of  Com- 
nwins  in  lS;it,  and  also  in  the  .nuuis  Poor-law  Anund;'.;ent  Act 
])assed  in  the  same  year,  in  which  the  i-ecommendations  of  th<' 
commissit>ners  wci'c  substantially  adoj)te(l  and  formalized. 

(  bie  may  xcntui-e  to  say  now,  without  fear  of  contradiction, 
that  that  law  was  one;  of  the  most  vahialilc!  that  has  been  placed 
on  the  statut(!-book  in  modinii  times.  Anil  y(;t  no  law  proved 
more  un)>opular  than  this  was  for  years  after  it  liad  been  en- 
acted. lUit  Mr.  Chadwick  Jiev(>r  ceased  to  have  peifect  faith  in 
tlu;  soundness  of  the  principh's  on  which  it  was  based,  and  he 
was  indefatigabh'  in  <lefen(ling  and  establishing  it.  It  has  been 
well  said  that  "to  becomt'  po|>ular  is  an  easy  thing,  but  to  do 
unpoi)nlar  Justice  -that  reijuires  a  man."  And  Kdwin  Chad- 
wick is  the  man  who  has  ne\er  Jailed  in  courage  to  do  the  I'ight 
thing,  e\'en   though  it  shoiiM   pro\  e  to  lie  the  unjtopular  thing. 

While  burrowing  amidst  the  \-oluminous  (evidence  on  the  poor- 
laws,  ]V:'v.  Chadwick  ne\('r  lost  sight  of  his  sajiitary  idea.  .Ml 
his  repoi'ts  werc^  strongly  imbued  with  it.  ( )ne-i'ourth  of  the 
then  (>\isting  pauperism  was  traced  by  him  to  ihe  pre\-entiblc 
causes  oi"  diseas(\  His  minute  imcstigations  into  the  condition 
of  the  laboring  po|)ulMtion,  and  of  the  poorc^r  classes  generally, 
gave  him  a  thorough  acijuainlnnce   with  the  physicaT  evils  that 


^j. 


m 


v. 
t  IE. 

1'  M 


i; 
If 

^ 

1^ 


268 


Fex<ir  in  IVJiiteckopel. 


[chap.  xtv. 


were  pveyin;L;  ujton  the  coniniunity,  oan-yiiig  theui  oti'  by  tever.s, 
consinii])tion,  ami  cliolern. ;  iviul  tlie  Siinitary  idea  took  still  tirnier 
^Htssessiou  ot'liis  luiiul. 

One  day,  in  IS.'iH,  wliile  engaged  in  Jiis  official  xocation  of 
Secn^tary  to  the  l'ooi--Ia\v  (Joniinis.sion,  an  officer  of  the  White- 
chapel  Union  liastily  ^-ntered  the  board-room  of  the  Poor-law 
(Joniniission,  and.  with  a  ti'oubled  countenance,  informed  the 
scicretary  that  :\  teriible  fever  had  bi-oken  out  round  a  .stagnant 
pool  in  Wliite'.-hnjit'l  ;  that  thc'  ]teoj)](.'  wenj  dying  by  scores;  and 
that  the  extreme  malignity  of  thi^  cases  gave  reason  to  apprelaMid 
that  tilt!  disease  wjis  allied  to  Asiatic  cholera.  On  hearing  this, 
the  Board,  at  Mr.  (.'had'A  i  iv's  instance,  innnetliately  a])pointed 
JJrs.  Arnott,  Kay,  and  Soutliwood  SmitJi  to  in\e^tigate  the  causes 
of  this  alarming  mortality,  and  to  rejiort  generally  ui)on  the 
sanitary  condition  of  London,  This  en([uiry  at  length  ripened 
into  the  sanitary  iuipury. 

In  the  meantime.  jNIr.  Chadwick  had  l)een  engaged,  as  a 
nuMuber  of  ihe  cDitnuission  to  in<iuire  as  to  tlie  Itest  means  of 
establishing  an  efficient  constabulary  force  in  England  and 
Wales.  The  evidence  was  endxxlied  in  a  re})ort,  as  interesting 
as  a  novel  of  J)icken's,  which  allorde<l  n  curious  insight  into  the 
modes  of  living,  the  customs  and  habits,  of  the  lowest  classes  of 
the  population,  ^\'hen  this  (pu'stion  had  l»een  dismi.s.sed,  Mr. 
Chadwick  ])ittcceiled  to  de\»»le  himself  almost  exclusivelv  to  the 
•treat  work  of  his  life-— the  .sanitary  m<)\'ement. 

The  lii.sho})  of  London,  in  lN."{l),  nancd  in  the  Loi'ds  that  the 
incpiiry  which  had  been  made  at  ^Iv.  Chadwick's  instance  by 
l)rs.  Southwocxl  Smith,  Arnott,  and  Kiiy,  into  the  sanitary  state 
of  the  metropolis,  should  Ix^  extended  to  the;  whole  popidation, 
city,  rural,  and  manufacturing,  of  Engl.and  and  Wales.  Some 
icsidents  in  Kdinburgh  also  petitioned  that  Scotland  might  be 
included;  and  accordingly,  in  August,  18.'i'.),  Lord  John  Ku.s.sell 
addn!ssed  a.  letter  to  the  I'oor-law  Hoard,  authoi'izing  them  l>y 
i-oyal  command  to  e\ten<l  to  the  whole  of  (Ji-eat  Dritain  the  in- 
(piiry  into  prcNcntible  disea.se,  which  liad  already  been  begun 
with  i-egai'd  to  the  metropolis.  The  onerous  task  of  setting  on 
foot  and  superintending  the  incpury  throughout,  of  sifting  tiie 
evidence,  and  classifying  and  condensing  it  for  the  purpo.ses  of 
jnd»lication,  th'volved  u]ion  Mr.  Cluulwick. 


CHAP.  XIV.] 


The  San'dartj  hiquiri/. 


269 


The  first  rt!})nrt  on  ilie  liealtli  of  towns  was  ivmly  for  jmblica- 
tion  in  1842.  It  onylit  to  \va\v  appcjirod  as  the  ofiicial  rc})ortof 
tlie  Poor-hiAv  Board ;  but  as  the  connnissioners  (some  of  whom 
were  at  variance  witli  Mr,  Chadwick  with  respect  to  the  new 
poor-law)  refused  to  assume  the  res[)onsil)ilJty  of  a  (hx-ument  that 
contained  nnicli  that  nnist  necessarily  oliend  many  intluential 
pu])lic  bodies,  j\Ir.  ( 'hadwick  took  the  responsibility  uj)on  him- 
self, and  ix  was  published  ms  his  rt^poit — which,  indeed,  it  was — 
and  accepted  from  him  as  such  by  the  connnissioners. 

The  amount  of  di y,  hard  work  encountered  by  Mr,  ( 'liadwick 
in  the  preparation  of  this  aud  his  other  reports  can  scarc<dy  be 
(\stiniated,  except  l)y  those  who  know  anythiu;if  of  the  laboi-  in- 
volved in  extracting  from  masses  of  evidence,  written  and  print- 
ed, sent  in  fi'om  all  paj'ts  of  tlu;  empirtj,  only  tiui  most  striking 
results  beaj-iu!,'  upon  the  question  in  hand  and  such  as  are 
deemed  worthy  of  publication.  The  mountains  of  paper  whicli 
Mr.  C'hadwick  has  thus  bored  through  in  his  life-time^  must  have 
been  immense  ;  and  could  they  now  be  presented  before  liim  in 
one  pil(%  they  would  ap|>all  even  his  stout  heart. 

Tlii^  seusatio'i  excited  throuL^hout  the  country  by  tlie  publica- 
tion of  Mr.  Ciiadwick's  sanitary  i'e])oi-t  was  immense.  Kuch  a 
revelation  of  tlitOiorrors  lyin<;' concenh'd  beneath  the  fair  surface 
of  our  uu)dei-n  civilization  had  never  before  been  j)ul>lished.  Hut 
]Mr.  Cliadwick  had  no  idea,  of  merely  creatin*^  a  sensation.  He 
had  an  obj(?ct  in  view,  which  he  persistently  pui'sued.  The  report 
was  nothinjx,  unl(>ss  its  recommendations  wer<i  spee<lily  carried 
into  titi'ect.  A  sanitary  party  was  forjued;  and  the  ministers  for 
the  tinu^  bjnnj;,  aidtul  by  membei's  of  both  sides  in  politics, 
became  its  intluential  leaders. 

A  sanitary  conuuission  was  a)>[)ointed  in  184-4  to  consider  the 
whole  (piestion  in  its  practical  bcarin^^s.  The  commission  pub- 
lished two  reports  with  a  \'ww  to  le:,Mshition,  but  the  free-trade 
strti,<i[<^h(  interfei-(!d,  and  little  was  done;  foi-  sf^veral  years.  Mean- 
while our  sanitary  reformer  was  occnipied  as  a  commissiontn*  in 
inipiirinijf  into  the  (;ondition  of  thc^  metropolis.  The  commission 
pultlished  thret^  reports,  in  which  the  defectiv(i  di'ainai,'e,  sewat;^e 
and  water-supjtly  of  r.oudon  wi're  discussed  in  iletail;  and  these 
have  recently  lieen  foUowed  bv  important  acts  of  ley;ishition. 
17 


I 

i 

V 

p 
.1; 


l;l:,i 


270 


Sanitary  Science. 


[chap.  XIV. 


The  sanitary  idea  at  length  had  its  triumph  in  the  enactment 
of  the  Pul)lic  Healtli  Act  of  1848,  and  the  appointment  of  a 
General  Board  of  Health  (of  which  j\[r.  Chadwick  was  a  mem- 
her)  to  siij)erintcnd  its  administration.  Numerous  supplemental 
measures  have  since  been  enacted,  with  tlie  view  of  carrying 
into  practical  effect  the  sanitary  prin(ai)les  adopted  by  the  board. 
Reports  continued  to  l)e  }>ublislu'd,  fi'om  time  to  time,  full  of 
valuably  information  :  foi-  instance,  in  refertiuce  to  the  applica- 
tion of  sewage-water-  to  agricultural  ])urposcs;  on  epidemic 
choh'ra ;  on  (piarantine;  on  drainage;  on  [)ul)lic  lodging-houses; 
and  the  like.  Tlu;  sanitary  movemciut,  in  short,  became  a  "great 
fact;"  and  that  it  is  so,  we  have  mainly  to  thank  Edwin  Chad- 
wick, the  missionary  of  thii  sanitai'v  idea.  It  is  true,  Ik;  was 
eventually  dismissed  from  iiis  jtosition  of  iuHuence  at  the  Board 
of  ll(!alth — partly  tlirougli  spleen,  but  chiefly  because  of  his 
own  unaccommodating  nature — unaccommodating  especially  to 
petty  local  authoi-ities  and  individual  interests  op])Osed  to  the 
])id)lic  good.  Ibit  with  all  thiid<iiig  and  iui])artial  men  his 
character  stands  as  high  as  it  did.  At  all  events,  his  iDorks 
remain. 

We  do  not  know  a.  uu)re  striking  instance  than  that  presented 
by  this  gentleman's  caretM-,  of  the  huge  amount  of  good  which  a 
man  strongly  jwssessed  by  a  beuelicent  idea  can  accomplish,  pro- 
vide(l  he  have  only  the  force  of  purposes  and  pers(;verance  to 
follow  it  \ip.  Though  JMr.  (.'hadwich  has  not  l)een  au  actual 
legislator,  be  has  nevtnthelcss  ]>een  the  mover  of  more  wise 
nu5asures  than  any  l(>gislator  of  our  tinu\  H(!  created  a  public; 
o[)inion  in  favor  of  sanitary  ri^form.  H«^  lias  also  impressed  the 
minds  of  bcMievolent  individuals  with  the  necessity  for  providing 
improviul  dwellings  tor  the  [KH)pl(%  and  has  thus  been  the  indi- 
rect means  of  establishing  the  IN^abody  dwellings,  the  Baron(!Ss 
Coutts  dwellings,  and  the  various  societies  for  erecting  improved 
dwellings  for  tlu;  industrial  chisses. 

Edwin  Chadwick  lias  thus  ]>roved  himself  to  ])e  one  of  the 
most  useful  and  practical  of  ])ublic  benc^factors.  He  deserves  to 
be  ranked  with  C^larkson  or  Howard.  His  laboi's  hiive  been 
eipially  salutary;  some  will  say  that  they  have  been  much  more 
so  in  their  results. 


^ 


CHAP.  XIV.] 


Results  of  Uncleanness. 


271 


Sfiuitarv  scionce  inav  be  summed  \\\t  in  tlie  one  word—  elesui- 
liness.  Pure  water  and  pure;  air  are  its  essentials.  Wliere\'er 
there  is  impurit}',  it  must  l)e  washed  away  itml  <,n)t  rid  of.  Thus 
sanitary  science  is  one  of  tiie  simplest  and  most  intelligil)le  of 
all  the  branches  of  human  knowledi^e.  l*eHia})S  it  is  l)ecause  of 
this  that,  like  most  common  tilings,  it  has  continued  to  receive 
so  little  attention.  ^NFa'  \  still  think  that  it  re(juiies  no  science 
at  all  to  ventilate  a  chamber,  to  clean  out  a  drain,  and  to  keep 
house  and  person  free  from  uncleanness. 

Sanitary  science  may  be  rei^ardcd  as  an  unsMvory  subject.  It 
deals  with  diit  and  its  (expulsion — from  the  skin,  from  the  hous(>, 
from  the  street,  from  tin;  city,  [t  is  comj)rise(l  in  tlie  words, 
"  wherever  there  is  dirt,  get  rid  of  it  instantly  ;  and  witli  clean- 
liness let  there  be  a  copious  supply  of  pure  water  and  of  pure 
air  for  the  purposes  of  human  health." 

Take,  for  instance,  an  unhealthy  street,  or  bhxtk  of  streets,  in 
a  large  town.  There  you  find  typhus  fever  constantly  present. 
Cleanse  and  sewer  the  street,  su])ply  it  with  pure  air  and  jiuro 
water,  and  fever  i.>  foitbwith  banished.  Is  not  this  a  much 
more  satisfactory  result  than  the  a])i)lication  of  drugs  I  Fifty 
thousand  persons,  says  Mr.  Lee,  annually  fall  victims  to  typhus 
fever  in  Great  Ih-itain,  originated  liv  i-auses  which  are  ])r(!\ent- 
able.  The  rf'sult  is  the  sanu^  as  if  the>e  tifty  thousand  jx'i'sons 
were  annually  taken  out  of  their  wretched  dwellings  an<l  [)ut  to 
death  !  We  are  shocked  l)y  the  news  <»f  nnirder — by  the  loss  of 
a  single  life  liy  physical  causes  I  And  yet  we  hear,  almost 
without  a  shudder,  (>f  the  reit(?rated  statement  of  the  loss  of  tens 
of  thousands  of  lives  yearly  from  physical  causes  in  (hiily  ojiera- 
tion.  The  annual  slaughter  from  pi'ev(Mitable  causes  of  tyjjhus 
fever  is  double  tho  amount  of  what  was  sutfcrcMl  by  the  allied 
armies  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo  I  By  neglect  oi'  the  ascertained 
conditions  of  he:dthful  living,  the  great  mass  of  the  people  lose 
nearly  half  the  natural  period  of  thtMi-  liv^'s.  "Typhus,"  says  a 
medical  otticer,  "is  a  curse  which  man  inflicts  niton  himself  by 
the  neglect  of  sanitary  aiTang«Mnents." 

Mr.  (,'hadwick  alHrmed  that  in  the  cellais  of  Liveri)ool,  Man- 
chester, and  Le(uls  \io  had  s(>(!n  among  the  oju'ratives  more  vice, 
miser}^   and  di^gradation  than  those  which,   when  detailed  l)y 


Jill 


fill 
If  i' 


97*^ 


"  Irish  Fever" 


[chap.  XIV. 


Hovvaid,  liiul  (^veiled  t]i(;  .syiu|>athy  of  tlie  world.  The  Irish 
}»oor  sink  into  the  iiidioaltliy  closes,  lanes,  and  back  streets  of 
lari^e  towns  ;  and  so  fiecjuent  are  tlie  attacks  of  typhus  aition;^ 
thein  that  in  soim;  [)arts  of  the  country  the  disease  is  known  as 
the  "Irish  fever."  It  is  not  merely  the  h)s.s  of  life  that  is  so 
fri^^ditful  ;  tliei-e  is  also  the  nioi'al  death  that  is  still  more  a[)- 
l»allii\g  in  th(;s<!  unhealthy  localities.  Vice  and  crime  consort 
with  foul  living.  In  these  i>laces,  demoralization  is  the  normal 
state.  Th"re  is  an  absenct^  of  cleaidiness,  of  decency,  of  decorinn; 
th<':  lan,<.rua,i,'e  used  is  ))ollutiu,if.  and  sceiu'S  of  j)ro<li;,'acy  ar(^  of 
almost  lioiii-ly  occurrence — all  tending,'  to  foster  idleness,  dnmU- 
ennness,  and  vicious  al)andonment.  Imagine  such  a  n)oral  jit- 
ni(tsj)her(!  for  women  and  cliildren  ! 

I'he  connection  is  close  and  intimate  between  jthysical  and 
moi'al  healtli,  between  <U)mestic  well-being  and  public  hajipiuess. 
The  (lestructive  intluence  of  an  unwholesome  dwelling  ]»ro]»a- 
gates  a  moral  typhus  wors(;  than  a  plague  itself.  When;  the 
body  is  enfeebled  by  the  depr(!ssing  intluences  of  vitiated  air 
and  bodily  deHlemeiit,  tlie  mind,  almost  of  neci'ssity,  takes  the 
sajui!  low,  uidicaltliy  toiu-.  Self-resjM'ct  is  h)st  ;  a  stu)>id,  incj-t, 
languid  feeling  over|)oweis  the  syst<'m  ;  the  characrer  becomes 
de))ra.ved  ;  and  t<)o  often — eager  to  snatch  even  a  nioinentary 
(Mijoyment,  to  feel  the  blood  bounding  in  thi^  \eins — the  miser- 
able victim  tlies  to  tlu-  demon  of  strong  drink  for  relief;  hence, 
misery,  infamy,  shanu',  crime,  and  wretchedness. 

Tliis  neglect  of  tlie  conditions  of  <laily  health  is  a  frightfully 
costly  thing.  It  costs  the  rich  a  great  d.eal  of  money,  in  the 
sha})e  of  ]>oor-rates,  ibr  the  support  of  widows  maih;  husl)and- 
less,  and  children  made  fath(>rless,  by  ty[)hus.  It  costs  them, 
also,  a  great  deal  in  disease  ;  for  the  fen'er  often  spreads  from 
th(^  dwellings  of  the  poor  into  the  home.sof  the  rich,  and  carries 
away  father,  mother,  or  children,  it  costs  a  great  deal  iji  sub- 
scriptions to  maintain  dispensaries,  intii  aiaries,  houses  of  ic- 
covei'V,  and  asylums  for  the  destitute.  It  costs  the  ])oor  still 
nu)re  ;  it  costs  them  tlieir  health,  which  is  theii-  oidy  capital. 
In  this  is  in\'ested  their  all  :  if  tliey  lo.-.e  it,  their  docket  is 
struck,  and  they  are  bankrujit.  How  fiightfnl  i:;  the  neglect. 
whether  it  1)6  on  the  })art  of  society  or  of  iutlividuals,   whicli 


!l 


riiAP. 


XIV.] 


Thai  Terrlh/r  Xoho,!;!.' 


273 


robs  \\\(\  |)f)or  inmi  of  liis  lu'stltli,  niul  makes  liis  life  ii  daily 
rleatli  ! 

Why,  then,  is  not  sanitary  science  nnivei-sally  adopted  and 
enforced  \  We  feai"  it  is  mainly  tlironfjh  indifference  and  lazi- 
ness. The  local  authorities — mnnicij)aliti»'S  and  boards  of  guard- 
ians- an^  so  many  ^frs.  Ma"Iartys  in  tlieii-  Avay.  Like  that 
dirty  matron,  they  "canna  be  fashed."  To  removf^  the  materials 
of  disease  recpiirc's  industry,  constant  attention,  and,  what  is 
fai'  more  se)-ious.  increased  rates.  Tlui  fold  interests  hold  their 
gi-ound.  and  bid  defiance  to  the  attacks  niadc^  n|)on  them.  Things 
did  very  well,  they  say.  in  "thi"  good  old  times  ;"  why  shoidd 
they  not  do  so  now  ]  When  ty[»liiis  or  choh^ra  breaks  out,  they 
tell  us  that  nobody  is  to  blame. 

Tiiat  terrible  Nobody  1  How  nnich  he  has  to  answer  for  ! 
More  mischief  is  done  by  Nobody  than  by  all  the  world  besides. 
Nobody  adulterates  our  food.  Nobooy  |)oisons  us  with  bad 
drink.  N()])ody  su])plies  us  with  foul  water.  Nobody  spreads 
fever  in  blind  allevs  and  unsweiyt  lanes.     Nobodv  leaves  towns 

I.  I  t 

undrained.  Nobody  fills  jails,  jHMiitentiaries,  and  convict  sta- 
tions.     Nobody  makes  poaciiers,  thi(^\"es  and  drunkards. 

Nobody  has  a  theory,  too — a  dreadful  theory.  It  is  endiodied 
in  two  words:  Laixscz  fd'tve — Let  alon(\  When  ])e<)ple  ai-e 
]K)isoned  by  ])laster  of  Paris  mixed  with  flour,  "  Let  alone  "  is 
the  remedy.  When  Corcnhis  liKlinis  is  used  instead  of  ]io])S, 
ami  men  die  prenuiturcdy,  it  is  easy  to  say,  ''Nobody  did  it." 
Let  those  who  can,  fiiul  out  when  they  are  clieat<'d  :  ('(trrt(f 
c,7nj)for.  When  people  live  in  foul  dwellings,  lot  them  alone. 
Let  wi-etchedness  do  its  work  ;  do  not  int(>rfei'e  with  death. 

"It  matters  nothing  to  me,"  said  a  rich  man  who  heard  of  a 
poor  woman  and  her  sick  child  ])eing  driven  foi-tli  tVom  a  town 
foi"  begging.  Th(^  work-house  iuithorities  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  ]\vv,  and  sent  her  away.  I'ut  tlie  j»oor  woman  Avent 
and  sat  down  with  her  child  at  the  rich  man's  door  ;  the  child 
died  there  ;  the  contagion  of  typhus  was  wafted  into  the  gilded 
saloon  and  the  luxurious  bed-chamber,  and  the  rii-h  man's  child 
fell  a  victim  to  the  disease. 

But  Nobody  has  considerably  less  jiower  in  society  than  he 
ouce  had ;  and  our  hope  i«  that  he  may  ultimately  follow  iii  the 


«r  !i 


11 


i;,!i 


274 


Wliitlesoine  llomps  Necessary.  [chap,  xiv, 


wiikf  of  Old  r»();;y.  and  <lis!i|i|u'ju  iiltogctluM-.  W'licrovcr  tlici-c 
are  sufl'criiitf  and  sodal  d('[>r('ssioii,  wo  may  depend  npon  it  that 
S)niel)(M[y  is  to  Maine.  'V\\v  resp()nsil)ility  rests  soniewliere;  and 
if  wv  allow  it  to  remain,  it  rests  with  ns.  We  may  Jiot  he  aide 
to  co|ie  with  the  t'\  il  as  indi\iduals,  single-handed;  hut  it  he- 
conies  ns  to  unite,  and  hrin;;'  to  l)ear  iijxin  the  evil  the  joint 
moral  ]iower  of  so«'iety  in  the  form  of  a  law.  A  hiw  is  but  the 
exprt'ssion  of  a  e<nnl>ined  will  ;  and  it  does  thi'.t  for  society, 
whieh  so(.*iety,    in    its  indiNidual  and  se|)arate  aetion,  cannot  so 


ell  oi'  elli<-ientlv  do  for  itself       1. 


[iws  mav  ( 


h.  t 


oo  much 


liev 


may  meddle  with  things  which  ouyht  to  he  "let  aloiie;"  but  the 
sibuse  of  a.  tiling'  is  no  |tropei'  ari^nment  a,L!:ainst  its  use  in  cases 
where  its  employment  is  nri;»'ntly  called  for. 

Mere  improxement  of  towns,  howe\ei',  as  respects  drainage, 
sewcra;L>(',  [>a\  ini;',  water-sn|i[tly.  and  al>olition  of  cellar  dwellinijfs, 
will  elfect  comparati\ cly  little,  uidess  we  can  succeed  in  cai'ry- 
iny  the  inipro\  cnient  t'nrther — Uiuiely,  into  the  houses  of  the 
[K'oplc  themselves.  A  w'ell-d(!vis(Hl  system  of  sanitary  nu3as\iros 
mav  insure  exteiMi.il  cleanlin(>ss  ;  mav  nrovide  that  t^he  soil  on 
Avhich  tlu!  streets  of  hou.ses  areltuilt  shall  be  relicA'cd  of  all  super- 
fluous moisture,  and  that  all  animal  and  ve^etal)le  refuse  shall 
be  pronii)tly  removed  so  that  tin;  ail"  circulatini,'  throu,irh  tin; 
streets,  and  tloatin;jfi-om  them  into  the  lious(^s  of  the  inhaltitants, 
shall  not  be  laden  with  jioisonous  miasmata,  the  source  of  dis- 
ease, sull'erin;^',  and  untimely  death.  Cellar  dwellings  may  be 
prohibited,  and  certain  rei^ulations  as  to  the  l)uildiu<j;s  hereafter 
to  be  ercctf'i!  may  also  be  enforced.  Ihii  here  municipal  or 
parochial    authority  sto|)s:  it.  can  yo  no  farther  ;   itcannotpenc 


trate  nito 


tli.>  h 


ionic,  and  it  is  not  necessarv  that  it.  should  do  so. 


TIk'  indi\idiial  cllbrts  of  the  community  themseh'es  are  there- 
fore needed  ;  and  any   Ie<;islati\  <•  enactments   whii'li  dispensed 


wi 


th  tl 


i(\se  would 


pldhalilv  Ite  all    e\  11 


The  ( 


Tovernmeii 


t  d 


ocs 
iro- 


not  build  tin'  liinises  in  which  tin'  people  dwell.  The^'o  are  j 
\ided  l>y  employers  atid  by  ca|iiialists,  small  and  lar;;'e.  It  is 
necessary,  Ihercfore,  to  enlist  thesis  illtel•(^stK  in  the  causo  of 
Hiinitary  imin'ovement,  in  order  to  insurti  success. 

.lndi\idual   eajtitalists    have   already  done   much    to   pi'ovidi! 
wholesome  liou.-.es  for  t  heir  workin,!j;peop|(>.  :iiid  ha\  e  found  their 


CIIA  P. 


XIV.] 


Home  nvfortn. 


275 


account  in  so  doiiii--  l)ytlicir  increased  licalth,  as  well  as  in  tlicMr 
moral  ini[)rovoin''nt  in  all  ways.  Capitalists  imbued  with  a 
l)cncvolent  and  [)liilantlin)j)i(;  s[)iiit  can  thus  spread  blessings  far 
and  wide.  And  were  a  few  euteiprisinu;  builders  in  every  town 
to  take  up  this  (juestion  practically,  and  provide  a  class  of  houses 
for  work-jK'ople,  with  suitable  accounnodation — pro\  ided  with 
arrau<^enients  tor  ventihition,  chanliness,  and  separation  of  tlai 
sexes,  such  as  hcidth  and  comfoi't  riMpiiic — they  Avould  really  be 
conferi"in<i;  an  amount  of  benetit  on  the  ct>inmuuity  at  large,  and 
at  the  sanu^  time,  V"  believe,  upon  themselves,  which  it  would 
not  be  easy  to  ovei*'  timatc. 

l)Ut  thei'c  also  needs  the  active;  cooperation  of  tlu^  dwellers 
in  j)Oor  men's  honu^s  themselves.  They,  too,  must  join  cordially 
in  the  sanitary  movement  ;  othei-wise  comparativcdy  little  good 
can  be  etl'ectrd.  \'ou  may  pi'o\  ide  an  elKcient  water-supply, 
yet  if  the  housewife  will  riot  use  the  water  as  it  ought  to  be  used, 
if  she  be  la/.y  and  dirty,  (he  house  will  Ik-  foul  an<l  comfortless 
still.  Vou  may  pi'o\  ith  for  M'utilation,  yet.  if  otfensive  matters 
be  not  renio\<'d.  and  doors  and  windows  are  kept  closed,  the  puro 
outer  air  will  In-  cNcludrd,  and  the  houst'  wili  still  snudi   fustv 


in«l  unwiKdesoMif 


n  aiw  case 


th 


^t.  I 


lere  nnist,  he  aclcaniv  wonuin 


.1' 


to  superintend  the  allahs  of  the  honst  ;  and  she  cannot  l)e  made 


so  bv  act  of  I'ariianient, 


Tl 


le  saintarv  I'onimissioncis   cannot, 


by  a'\y  "  Notilication,"  convert  tlie  slaltei'idy  shrew  into  a  tidy 
housewife,  noi'  the  disorderly  drunkard  into  jin  industrious, 
homedo\ing  husltand.  There  nnist,  thei'efore.  be  individual  ef- 
fo.  on  the  part  of  tlie  Imnsewife  in  every  woil<ing-inairs  liouie. 
Ah  11  r(>cent  writer  on  home  reform  obsirves:  "  We  must  begin 
by  insisting  that,  however  much  of  the  physical  ami  moi'al  «'vils 
of  th(^  working-classi's  may  be  justly  attributable  to  their  dwell- 
ings, it  is  too  often  the  ease  that  nii>re  ought,  in  truth,  to  be 
attributed  to  !  Iiemselves  ;  t'oi-.  siucly,  the  iniuate  dej>ends  less  on 
the  laaise  than  the  house  on  the  inmate,  as  mind  has  nH)re  power 


over  matter  than  mailer  ovci*  nniK 


,et  a  t!\V( 


lling  I 


»'  ever  so 


|»o(>r  and  ineommoilious,  yet  a  frrriily  with  decent  and  cleaidy 
liabits  will  eontrivc  to  inr''  '  t'l  •  liest  of  it,  and  will  take  car(> 
that,  there  shall  be  nothing   (tlensivc  in  it  which  they  ha\e[)ower 

h'l  house,  litteil  »ij>  with  every  con- 


to  rtiUiove 


W 


H'rcas  a  mo( 


II 't 


k 


270 


l)ome,st>r  /)tijn'uve7)tP)U. 


[cilAf. 


MV 


veiiieiic(3  and  eoiufoit  whicli  )no(leni  science  cun  supj;ly,  will,  if 
occupied  by  [)erKons  of  iuteni[)oriito  and  uuclennly  liiibits,  speed- 
ily become  a  dis<^rac(>  and  a  iuiis;nice.  A  sober,  industrious,  and 
cleanly  couple  will  inij»art  an  air  of  decency  and  res])ectability 
to  the  pooi-est  dwelling  ;  while  the  spendthrift,  the  drunkard,  or 
the  gambler  will  convert  a  ]>Mlac(f  into  a  scene  of  discomfort  and 
disgust.  Since,  therefort^,  so  much  depends  on  the  chiiracter 
and  conduct  of  the  pjirties  theiusehes,  it  is  right  that  they  should 
feel  their  )-esponsil)i]ity  in  this  matter,  and  that  they  siiouM 
know  and  attend  to  the  various  points  connected  with  the?  im- 
provement of  their  ()\s  n  homes." 

While  this  im])ortaut  truth  shr)ul(l  be  kej)t  steadily  in  view, 
every  possible  exertion  ought,  at  the  sanu'  time,  to  be  made  to 
jjn)vide  a  greater  al>uiidance  of  c«)mfortable,  decent,  and  comely 
dwelliugs  for  tlu^  woi'king-chissi^s  ;  for  it  is  to  be  lamented  that. 
in  many  districts,  they  are.  as  it  were,  forced  by  the  necessities 
of  theii-  condition  vo  gravitate  into  localities  and  to  inhabit 
dwellings  where  decency  is  rendered  almost  im|>  "ble,  who-e 
life  becoiues  a  slow  living,  auij  where  tlie  intluenci  -s  •  .  -rating  on 
the  entire  liunnin  (>n(M'gi«\s,  [thysical  and  nu)ral,  are  of  the*  most 
deletericnis  character. 

Homes  ar<!  the  ma.nufactol•i(^s  of  men  ;  and  as  the  homes  arc, 
HO  will  the  men  be.  Mind  will  be  degraded  by  the  physical  in- 
lluences  around  it,  (lecenev  will  be  d(!stroved  l)y  constant  contact 
with  imi)ui-ity  and  deliJ(Muent,  and  coai'seness  of  manners,  habits, 
an<l  tastes  will  become  inevitable.  Von  eanni»t  icar  a  kindly 
natui'(\  sensitivi!  against  (^vil,  cart'ful  of  proprieties,  and  desirous 
of  moral  and  intelh'ctual  improx cnient,  amidst  tli(>  darkness, 
dampness,  disorder,  and  dis'-oml'ort  which  uuliai)pi!y  characteri/e 
so  large  a,  ])ortion  of  the  dwellings  of  the  poor  in  (»ur  large  towns  ; 
an<l  until  we  can,  by  som<'  means  oi-  other,  impro\i'  their 
donu'stii;  ac<!ommodation,  their  low  moral  ami  social  condition 
must  be  regarded  as  iiievitaltle. 

We  want  not  only  a  liettur  class  of  dwellings,  but  we  rei)uire 
the  people  to  be  ,so  educated  as  to  appreciate  tlu'm.  An  li'isli 
laiitllord  took  his  tenantj'v  out  of  their  muddiuts.  and  lemoNcd 
them  into  comfortable  dw"llings  which  he  had  built  for  theii" 
acconnnodal  ion.      \\  hen  he  relurneil  to  his  «  state   he  wasgreatlv 


CHAP.   XIV 


hirt  (tixl  I 


iiininr(ilU>i 


I  I 


<lis}i]>p()iiite<l.  Tlie  lioiisos  wt'vo  jis  untidy  aiul  unconitortiihie  as 
l)ofore.  Tli(^  })i<if  was  still  under  the  l)ed,  and  the  hens  ovor  it. 
Tlie  concrete  Hour  was  as  dirty  as  tlie  mud  one  li-d  heen.  The 
l)anes  of  tlie  windows  were  bi'okeu.  ami  th«^  ^'arden  was  full  of 
weeds.      The  landloid  wrote  to  a  friend  in  despaii-.      'I'he  friend 

uht  to 


lei) 


ilied, 


ou    lia\'e    oeLiun  a 


It  tl 


le  \vi'(»n!j;   em 


ou    ou 


have  taught  th(>ni  the  value  of  eleaniiness.  thriftiness,  and  com- 
fort." To  lte;,dn  at  the  heniiniin;;'.  therefore,  we  nnist  teach  the 
))eoi»le  >he  necessity  of  cleanliness,  its  \irtues,  and  its  whoie- 
sonieness  ;  for  which  ])ur];os(^  it  is  re()uisite  that  they  should  lie 
intelligent,  cajiahle  of  understan<1in/,'  ideas  conxcyed  in  woi-ds, 
a'ole  to  discern,  aMe  to  read,  ahle  to  think.  Jn  short,  the  j>eo- 
]ile,  as  childi'cn.  must  Hi'st  have  been  to  school,  and  jiroj»erly 
tau'^ht  there;  whereas  we  haxc  allowed  the  niajoi'itv  of  the 
workin,ii[-]'eo|>l(^  to  ^m'ow  u|»  uutiunht.  nearly  half  of  them  unable 
to  read  and  write;  and  then  we  e\|»ect  them  to  display  the 
\irtues,  prudence,  jud^^Miient.  and  foreihou^ht  of  well-ed>ieat<'d 
))ein,<4s. 

It  is  of  the  tirst  importance'  to  teach  jx'ople  cleanly  habits. 
This  can  b<>  don(>  without  teai'liimj;  thent  eithei-  i-eadinn^  or  writ- 
ing'. Cleanliness  is  more  than  wholes(Uueness.  It  fuinishes  an 
atmos]ihei'<'  of  seU'-respect,  and  intluences  the  mcaal  condition  of 
the  cntil'e  household.  It  is  tiie  best  exponent  of  the  s|>irit  ot 
Thrift.  It  is  (o  tlie  economy  of  the  household  what  hy<i:iene  is 
to  tlit^  human  l>ody.  It  should  presiiU*  at  every  detail  of 
domestic  ser\  ice.  It  indicates  cond'ort  and  well-beini,'.  It  is 
:imoni,M-he  (list  i  net  ive  atliibutcs  ot'  ci  vili/ation,  ami  marks  the 
|(rowress  of  nati(»ns. 

Dr.  I'aley  was  accustomed  to  direct  the  particular  a.ttentit)n 
of  tra\<'llers  in  foreiufii  coinitrics  to  th(>  condition  of  the  people 
as  respects  cleaidiuess,  and  the  local  |iro\  isions  for  the  |ire\('n~ 
tion  ol"  pollution.  Me  was  of  opinion  that  a  ;^re'iter  insiuht 
niii^dit  ihiis  be  obl;dned  into  their  habit  ,  of  decency,  self-respect, 
and  industi-y,  and  intotheii-  moral  an<l  social  c(»nditii»n  p'lieially, 
than  from  facts  of  anv  other  description.  I*et»ple  iiic  cleanly  in 
proporti((n  as  ihey  ai-e  decent,  industrious,  and  self"  res|M 'ct  int; 
I'nclean  people  are  unci\  ili/,ed.  The  dirty  classes  of  i^reat  towns 
aiv  in\;<iiably  the   "  daui^erous  cliusse.s"  of  thost;  towns.      And  if 


li'. 


278 


Worship  In  Washhuj. 


[chap 


XIV. 


W(^  would   civilize  the  cliiss-'s  yet  uiicivili/ctl,  wcs  must  luuii.sh 


dirt  1 


rom  iiinoug  tlieni. 

Yot  (lilt  toriiis  no  i>:irt  of  our  nMtur<\  It  is  a  jjiirasito,  tVod- 
iiijjf  upon  liuniMii  life,  and  dcsti'oviuir  it.  ft  is  hideous  and  dis- 
Lfustiui,'.  'i'lierc  cjui  l>o  no  beauty  wluiro  it  is.  Tlio  [irettiest 
wouiau  is  made  repulsive  i)y  it.  Children  are  made  freti'nl,  im- 
])a,tient,  and  hjid-teujjK'rtul  by  it.  .^^en  are  degrad(^d  and  uiadc^ 
reckless  by  it.  There;  is  little  modesty  whore  dirt  is,  for  dirt  is 
indecency.  There  can  be  little  })urity  ol'  mind  where  tlu;  ]»eisou 
is  impure* ;  for  the  body  is  the  ti'mph^  of  the  soul,  and  must  \h' 
cleansed  and  purified  to  bo  woithy  of  the  shrine  within.  l)irt 
has  an  atlinity  with  self-indult;'ence  and  drunkenness.  'I'lu;  sani- 
tary incjuii'ors  have  clearly  mad(^  out  that  the  dii-ty  classes  are 
the  druidvcn  classes  ;  and  that  they  are  pione  to  seek,  in  the 
stu]>efa<'tion  (»f  beer,  ;;in,  and  opium,  a  refu;j;e  i'rom  tlu^  misei'able 
depressit)n  caused  by  thi^  foul  condillons  in  which  they  live. 

We  need  scan-ely  n'W'V  to  the  moral  as  well  as  th(^  physical 
Iteauty  of  cleanliness  -cleanliness  whicli  indicates  self-resju'ct, 
and  is  the  ro(»t  of  many  line  virtues,  and  especially  of  purity, 
delicacy,  and  decency.  Wv  mi^hteven  i;o  iurtluir,  and  say  that 
purity  of  thought  and  feejimj'  residts  fi'om  habitual  ))Ui'itv  of 
body  ;  for  the  mind  and  heart  of  man  are,  to  a  very  urtuit  «'.\- 
tent,  inllu(  need  Ity  eNtenai  conditions  and  eii'cumstanc(\s  ;  and 
habit  and  custom,  as  ,v  yards  outward  things,  stamp  themsi^hcs 
deeply  on  (he  whole  cliarat-ter,  ai'ke  upon  the  moral  feelin,L(s 
and  (he  intellectual  j)owers. 

.\b)ses  was  the  most  practical  ol'  sanitary  reibrmers.  Amon:^' 
the  l''as(ern  nations  y-enerally,  ch'anliness  is  a  [»ait  of  religion. 
They  <'steem  it  no(,  only  as  next,  in  godliness,  but  as  a  part  <»1" 
godliness  ilseli'.  They  connect  the  idea  of  internal  sanctity  with 
that  of  external  pnriiicat  ion,  They  feel  that  it  would  In?  an  in- 
Kldt  to  (he  Maker  they  worship  to  come  in(o  his  pl'osence  ce\('l'- 
ed  with  inijtui'ity.  Ilen<'((  (lie  Mohammedans  de\(i(c  almost  as 
much  cai'c  (o  the  erection  of  baths  as  to  (hat.  of  moscpies  ;  and 
alom;-side  (Im'  |)lace  of  worship  is  usually  found  the  placci  of 
cleansim,'.  so  (hat  (lie  faidiful  may  have  the  ready  Uieuus  of 
purijication  piovious  to  their  act  of  \\<»rsliip. 

•'  VVha(  W(trship,"  says  a  n'rea(.  \vri((  r,  "  is  (here  not    in  mere 


CHAP.  XIV.] 


Coninton  Thinyx  <il  Tlonir. 


279 


AViishinji;  I  }« rliaps  one  of  tlie  ino.st  mural  tliiiiu^s  a  man,  in 
common  cases,  luis  it  in  his  jjowcr  to  do.  Stri])  tliysclf",  ii;o  into 
tlie  bath,  or  \v('i('  it  into  the  limpid  ])()ol  of  a  rnnninn"  bi(R)k, 
and  thciHi  wasli  and  l»c  clean  ;  thou  v,  ilt  sti^jt  ont  a.^ain  a  purer 
and  a  better  man.  This  conscionsiiess  of  perfect  outer  jnu'cness 
— that  to  thy  skin  thei-e  now  adlieres  no  foi-eif^n  sjx'ck  of  imi)er- 
fection  -how  it  radiates  on  thee  ^vitll  eunnin<;  symbolic  intlu- 
encestothy  vi'ry  soul  I  Thou  hast  an  increased  tendancy  toward 
all  good  things  whatsoever.  Tiie  oldest  eastern  sa^'cs,  with  Jov 
and   holy  gi-atitude,   had  felt  it  to  lie  so,   and   that  it  was  tlu; 


IMak 


er  s 


nift 


and  wi 


11. 


'.l'h(>  common  N^cll-beinu'  of  men,  women  and  children  de))en<ls 
upon  attention  to  what  at  first  sij^diT  may  apjtear  compai'atively 
trivial  matters.  And  unless  these  small  matters  be  attended 
to,  ct)mfort  in  jtersou.  min<l.  and  feelinijf  is  absolutely  impossible. 
The  ])hysical  satisfaction  of  a  child,  for  exanijile,  depends  upon 
att(>ntion  to  it^s  feeding,  clothing;,  and  w;';shint;\  These  are  thi^ 
commonest  of  common  thiii'^s.  and  yet  they  are  of  the  most  es- 
sential impoitance.  If  the  chihl  is  not  pi-operly  fed  and  clothed, 
it  will  !,n()w  u])  feeltle  and  ill-conditioneil.  And  as  the  child  is, 
so  will  the  man  be. 

(Jrown  pe(»ple  t-annot  b(>  coniiortable  with  »n<.  i-e'^ular  atten- 
tion to  these  conuuon  mattei's.  hi\"ery  one  needs,  and  ouyht  to 
havo,  comfort  at  home;  and  comfort  is  the  united  jiroduct  of 
cleanliness,  thrift,  rei^nlarity,  industry — in  sh<irt,  a  continuous 
performance  of  duties,  each  in  itself  ajtparcntly  trivial.  The 
cookini,'  (tf  a  |>otato,  the  bakinu  of  a.  loaf,  the  mcndimf  of  a  shirt, 
the  darning-  <tf  a  pair  t)f  stockinufs,  the  makini,'  of  a  bed,  thi^ 
scrubbing,'  of  a  flour,  the  washing"  and  drt'ssiny  of  a  baby,  are  all 


matters  of  no  'M'cat  moment  ;  but 


a  woman  <»ui 


dtt  t 


(»   Know    MOW 


to  do  all  these  before  the   laana^fiucnt  of  a  household,  however 
poor,  is  intrusted  to  her. 

"  Why,"  asked  Lord  Ashbiu'ton  in  a  lecluie  to  the  students 
of  the  Wohcsey  trainini^-schools,  "  was  one  mother  of  a  family 
a  better  economist  than  another  (  \\\\\  could  one  live  in  abun- 
dance where  another  starve<|  '  AN'liy.  in  similar  dwdlintrs,  were 
the  children  of  one  parent  healthy,  ot'  smother  pun\  and  ailinij? 
Whv  could  this  laltoier  do  with  ease  a  task  that  would    kill    his 


il: 


'  HI 


m 


2.«0 


K)iotr}ii}iip  of  Vhiji^UiUHJil. 


ICWAP.  XIV, 


tVllow  \  It  was  not  luck  ur  cliance  tliat  derided  those  ditlerences ; 
it  wiis  the  |)ati(nit  observation  of  nature  tliat  su,ir,L(('sted  to  some 
/gifted  niiiids  rules  for  their  2;uidanee  wliicli  Ind  escaj>ed  tlie 
lieedlessucss  of  (tthcrs." 

It  is  not  so  iuucli.  lioNvexcr,  the  ])atient  ol»serv;diou  of  nntun*, 
as  good  training  in  tho  liouie  and  in  tli(^  seliool,  that  enabh's 
some  woMien  to  aecom])lis]i  so  mucli  more  than  otluMs  in  the 
doveh)pnient  of  huuinn  lieings  und  the  pi'omotion  of  liumau  com- 
fort. And  to  do  this  eliiciendy,  women  as  well  as  meii  re(|uirt' 
to  l>e  instructed  jis  to  the  Uiiturc  of  the  olijrcts  u])on  which  they 
work. 

Take  one  branch  of  science  as  an  illusti'ation — tiie  pliysiologi- 
cal.  Ill  this  scienc(^  we  liold  that  excry  woman  should  receive 
some  instjuctioii.  And  why  \  l*(>caus(;.  if  the  laws  of  physiology 
wei'(>  understood  In'  women,  cliihli'cn  would  gi'ow  up  into  Ix^ttcr 


hcaltiiicr,  happiei 


ai 


id  prol 


)al)l\    wiser,  men  a 


nd 


WOUHMl. 


Chil- 


dren arc  subject  to  certain  physiological  laws,  tlie  obser\'ance  of 
which  is  necessai'V  foi"  their  health  and  comfort.  Is  it  in»t 
r<'asonal»le.  therefore,  to  ex]»ect  that  women  should  know  some- 
thing;' of  these  laws,  and  of  their  ()[U!ration  {  If  they  are  ignorant 
of  them,  they  will  be  liabl(>  to  commit  all  sorts  of  blunders,  pro- 
•luetixc  of"  sulfeiing,  disease,  and  (h'.ttli.  To  what  are  we  to 
attribute  the  frightful  mortality  of  children  in  most  of  our  large 
towns,  where  one  half  (»f  all  that  are  liorn  ])erish  lu^fore  they 
I'eacli  their  lifth  year/  If  women,  as  well  as  men,  knew  some- 
thing nf  the  laws  of  liealthy  living;  about  the  nature  of  the 
atmosphere;  how  its  free  action  upon  thi;  blood  is  necessary  to 
lienltli  ;  of  the  laws  of  Ncntilation,  cleaidiness,  and  nutrition 
we  cannot  but  think  that  the  moi'al,  not  less  than  the  physical. 
condition  of  the  human  bein<'s  coimnitted  to  their  charge  would 


be  greatl 


V  imnrovei 


]  and 


nromo 


ted. 


Were  anything  like  a  proper  attention  given  to  comnnin 
things,  there  wojiM  not  lie  such  an  amount  •)!"  discomfoi't,  dis 
ease,  and  mortiilily  a\  long  the  young.  Hut  we  accustom  people 
to  net  as  if  ther(^  \ve\e  no  such  provisions  as  natural  laws.  Il 
we  \  iohite  (hetn,  we  do  nol  escape  the  et>us(;(pienees  becaii c  we 
ha\e  been  ignorant  of  their  mode  of  opeiatiou.  \sk\  haNc  been 
providi'd   with   intelligence   that   we  might  /•//()</'  tluMu  ;  and  it' 


CHAP.   XIV.] 


English  Cookirj/. 


281 


society  ket'|»  its  intMi\lu;i's  hliiid  jiikI  ii^Miorunt,  the  evil  conso- 
(|U(!nces  will  Iw  iiu^vitaUly  n!!i})L!(l.  Tlius  tt-ns  of  tliousaiids 
perish  for  lack  of  Uik^wIcmIi^c  of  wcii  the  smallest  iiiui  yet  most 
necessary  conditions  of  rij^ht  li\  in;,'. 

Women  have  also  need  to  be  taught  th(^  important  art  of  do- 
mestic economy.  If  they  do  not  earn  the  family  inc(»m<',  at 
h/ast  tliev  have  to  siiend  the  monev  earned  ;  and  tluiir  instrnc- 
tion  onji;ht  to  ha\<'  a  view  to  th(^  s|(endin,<jr  of  that  monc^v  wisely. 
Foi-  this  purpose  a  kno\vhHl<jjt;  of  arithmetic  is  alt.iolutoly  neces- 
sary. Some  iiijiy  say.  ••  What  use  can  a  woman  have  for  arith- 
metic ?  "  Hut  when  men  mai'ry,  tlu!y  soon  Jind  this  out.  If 
th(^  woman  who  has  a  household  to  mana<^e  he  innocent  of  addi- 
tion and  multiplication,  and  ifsiiefail  to  keep  a  recoi'd  of  her 
income  and  expenditure,  she  will,  liefore  loMi,'.  Iiiui  liersi'lf  in 
ijjreat  troul)le.  She  will  tind  that  she  <-annot  make  the  ends 
meet,  and  then  I'un  into  deht.  If  she  spend  too  nnicli  on  di-esN, 
she  will  ha\'e  too  little  for  food  or  education.  She  will  connnit 
extravai^ances  in  ont^  direction  or  another,  and  thus  snhject  her 
household  to  i^rent  discomfort.  She  may  also  hriii;;'  her  hushand 
into  trouhh;  throu'ih  the  d(0)ts  she  has  contracted,  and  make  a 
he^innimj  of  his  misfortunes  and  someiimes  of  his  ruin, 

Much  niiuht  he  said  in  f;i\or  of  household  niana^^cnient,  and 
esjwn'ially  in  fa  voi*  of  impiovcd  cookery.  lllco(»k((l  nu^ds  are  a 
source  of  discomfort  in  many  fimilies.  Dail  cookin,".;'  is  waste  — 
waste  of  money  and  loss  (tf  comfoit.  Whom  (Jotl  has  j(»ineij  in 
matrimony,  iI!-cooke(|  ioints  and  ill-hoiled  potatoes  ha\e  wvy 
often  put  asunder.  .\moni;'  tla^  ''commi»n  thin;.^s"  which  edu- 
cators should  t'vuh  the  i-isinu  Ljeneration,  this  ouyht  certainly 
not  to  l»e  o\-crlooktM|.  It  is  tlie  <  omnionest  and  \ct  most  wvm- 
lected  of  the  Itraui'hes  of  female  «>duca(ion. 

The  greater  pari  of  human  Ial>or  is  occupied  in  (he  direct  pro- 
duetion  of  the  matei'ials  I'or  human  food.  The  fai'ininu-classes 
and  thei)- Inborers  devote  themsehes  to  the  planting;',  reariii!;', 
and  reajiin;;  of  oats  and  other  e<'reals,  and  the  ura/.inif  larmer  to 
the  production  of  cattle  and  sheep,  tbi  the  maintenaUiC  of  the 
|»opulation  at  lari(e.  .Ml  thesi- ar(i«  h's  corn,  heel",  murton.  and 
suchlike  ari'  handed  (t\«'r  to  the  fem;de  half  of  the  liuntaii 
specieH  to  be  converted    into   food,    lor   the   susleiiuuce  ol  them 


282 


Worth/i;titmf'si>'  (>/  ni-/nan(i(jlu(/  Wirrs.      [(;iiap.  xiv. 


solves,   tli<Mr  lnisl);iii<ls,  and  their  iamilios.      J  low  do  tlicv  use 

tlicnr  power  I      Cjiu  tbov  cook  I      Have  tlioy  been  taught  to 

co< 

the  lost  or  inidisrovorctl  arts? 


)k  I     Is  it  not  a  fact  that,  in  this  (!oiintrv.  cookiiif,'  is  one  of 


Thousands  of  artisans  and  l.iltorcrs  arc  <h'jti'iv('d  of  half  the 
actual  nutrini(!nt  of  their  food,  and  continue  half  star\ed,  hp- 
(;ausc  their  \vi\'es  are  utterly  iijnorant  (»f  the  art  of  cookin;,'. 
They  are  yet  iu  entire  darkness  as  to  the  econonii/inif  of  food, 


aiK 


1  the  nu'ans  of  i-endcrinif  it  ]>alata])l(^  and  di'_;-estil)le 


|{ 


'jViui  tlie  middle  classes  are  hadly  ser\ed  m  tlii.s  ichpect. 
"If  we  could  see,"  says  a  pultlic  writer,  "  hy  the  iiel[)  of  an 
As)nodeus,  what  is  ,i(oini!;  on  at  tin'  dinner  hour  of  the  Innnhler 
of  th(!  middle  class,   what  a  sj)ectacle  of  discondort,   waste,   ill- 


tem|>ei',  and  cons(>(|Uent  ill-condiu-t,  it  would  he  :  Llie  man 
<(uarr'tds  with  his  w  it'e  hccause  there  is  nothim;'  lu;  can  <'at,  and 
he  _L(en(M'ally  makes  up  in  diink  foi*  the  deliciencaes  in  the  article 
offoi^d.  'inhere  is  thus  not  only  the  direct  waste  of  food  and 
detriiiu'iit  to  headth,  hut  the  further  consei|Uent  wast^e  of  the 
use  of  spirits  with  its  injury  to  the  hahits  and  the  health." 

On  the  other  hand,  peoj)l(!  who  eat  \\(dl,  drink  moderately; 
the  satisfaction  ot  the  apjietitt'  dispensiujL;  with  the  necessity  tor 
resorting  to  stimulants,  ({ood  humor  too,  and  good  health,  fol- 
low a  good  meal;  and  hy  a  good  nu'al  we  mean  anything,  how- 
e\cr  simj)lc,  well  dressed  in  its  way.  A  rich  man  ma\'  live  very 
e.\pensi\ely  and  very  ill;  a.nd.  a  ))oor  man  may  ]i\('  frugally  ami 
^•el'y  w<'ll,  if  it  he  his  good  fortune  to  have  a  good  (,'ook  in  his 
wife  or  in  his  servant. 

Th(*  most  W(ti-thless  unit  in  a  lamily  is  an  ill-managing  wife, 
or  an  indolent  woman  of  any  sort.  The  fair  sex  ai'c  sometimes 
\<'i'y  acute  in  what  concerns  themscKcs.  They  !;ei^p  a  tight 
hand  over  their  di'cssmakeis  and  milliners.  They  can  tell  t>  a 
thread  when  n  flounce  is  i()(»  naiTow  or  a  tuck  too  deep.  Ihit  if 
their  knowledge  only  extends  to  their  <twn  dress,  they  are  not 
helpmeets,  hut  iucuinhrances.  If  thev  know  nothing  of  their 
kitchen,  and  are  at.  the  mercy  of  the  cook,  their  talde  will  soon 
liecome  intolerahle  -  'oad  soup,  soft  and  tlahhy  tish,  meat  hurned 
outside  and  raw  within.  The  hushand  will  soon  lly  from  llic 
HaiMueeide  feast,  and  take  retiige  in  his  clul»,  svhere  he  will  not 


XIV. 


CHAP. 


XIV.] 


Fori'Mjii  /tilts. 


'283 


>>|KH;t. 
of  ;in 
mhlcr 
e,  ill- 
iiiaii 
;,  iunl 
irliclt- 
I  iind  ftl 
[)t'  the 


wit'c, 

lillH'S 
(   >    M 

'.lit  il' 
not 
(heir 
soon 
inicil 
tlir 
lioi 


only  find  food  tlint  Ik;  can  <Hi,'ost,  l)nt  at  tlic  same  time  fly  from 
tlu!  domestic  discord  that  usiuiily  accom|»anit's  ill-cooked  victuals 
tit  home. 

^Ir.  Smee  says  that  "  diseases  of  the  diiifestive  oi'<,Mns  greatly 
exceed  in  Knjfland  the  relative  num))er  found  in  other  countries." 


T] 


w,  reason  is, 


that 


in  no  other  countrv  <lo  men  eat  so  much  i 


11- 


cooked  food.  Tiie  least  ohscrwint  of  travellers  nuist  have  been 
struck  with  admiration  at  (he  readiu'-ss  with  whidi  a  dinniu*  of 
ei^dit  or  ten  dishes  of  vai'ious  catahles  makes  its  appearance  in 
foreiij^n  inns  ;  pai-ticularly  \\'li('n  h"  rt'Uicndx'rs  the  perpetual 
mutton-chop  and  mashed  jtotatoes  of  the  Kn^lish  road.  Tim 
author  i*euu'ml»ers  arrivini^  at  a  i-oadsidc  inn,  in  a  remot(^  part 
of  Dauphiny,  immeiliatdy  under  the  foot  of  tin;  J*ic  de  Midi. 
On  looking  at  the  clay  lloor  and  the  woru  slate  of  the  furnitui'c, 
he  j-emarked  to  his  friend,  '•  Surely  we  can  u'et  no  diiuuM-  here." 
"Wait  till  you  set;,"  was  his  answer.  In  ahout.  half  an  hour,  tlu! 
tahle  (th(»ut;h  ])i-o))pe<l  up)  was  s|)i'ead  with  a  clean  tahle-cloth  ; 
and  siiccessivti  dishes  of  soup,  fowl,  '*  ros-l)if,"  p(»mmes  de  terr(! 
frites,  French  beans,  with  wholesome  bread  and  laitter,  made 
their  appeaj'ani'e.  In  the  |iriueipal  inns  of  niost  pro\incial 
towns  in  Mtivdanil.  it  woidd  not  lia\e  Ikmmi  [)ossib|c  to  ol>tain 
such  a  dinner. 

<J)'eat,  would  bo  the  yain  to  the  comuuiuity  if  cookeiy  weri; 
made  an  ordinary  brancli  of  feuiale  e<lucation.  To  the  jioor  th(! 
yain  would  be  incalculable.  "  .VnioUi,'  the  prizes  which  the 
I'ountifuls  of  both  sexes  ai'e  fond  of  bcstowiui,'  in  the  country, 
we  should  like  to  see  some  otlei'ed  foi"  the  best  lioiled  jiotato,  the 
best  shrilled  nudton-chop,  au<l  tlu^  best  seasoned  hotch-[)otch 
soup,  or  broth.  In  writiu;^  of  a  well-boiled  potato,  W(^  are  aware 
that  we  shall  incur  the  contempt  of  many  for  attachiu;.,'  import- 
ance to  a  thimj  they  suppose  to  be  so  coinmou.  IJut  the  fact  is, 
that  their  contemp.t  arises,  as  is  often  the  origin  of  contcjupt, 
IVom  thtMi-  iujnorance,  th(M'e  bein;;  not  one  person  in  a  hundred 
who  has  even'  seen  and  tasted  that  gre:d  rarity,  a  well  boih^l  po- 
tato." 

In  short,  wo  want  common  sense  in  cookery,  as  in  most  <^ther 
thing's.  Food  should  i»e  used,  and  not  abused.  Much  of  il>  is 
now  absolutelv  wasted- -  wasted  for  want  of  a  little  art  in  cook- 


^1 


284 


Morah  and  Cookeri/. 


[niAP.  xrv. 


iii^f  it.  Fdixi  i.s  not  only  wjihUmI  hy  had  cookiuL,' ;  l)iit  much  of 
it  is  tlirowii  jiway  wliich  Frciu-liwoiiiiui  would  convert  iuto 
KoMUitliiu^'  savory  and  (li,U''^til)lc.  Ilealtli,  morals,  and  family 
(Mijoynu'iits  are  all  conncrteil  with  tlu;  (nicstion  of  oooki.'rv. 
AI»ov((  all,  it  is  the  handmaid  of  Thrift.  It  makes  tin;  most 
and  the  hest  of  the  liounties  of  (lod.  It  wastes  nothin^^  liut 
tui'iis  everythini^  to  account.  H]\i'i-y  Kn^lishwoman.  wiiethei- 
;,fi;ntle  or  simj)!!!,  ou^ht  :<>  Jx'  accomj)lisli(Ml  in  an  art  which  con- 
fers so  nuich  comfort,  health,  and  wealth  u|>on  tlx'  mend)ers  of 


her  1 


ious« 


hohl. 


*'  Ft  a])])ears  to  me."  said  Mi's.  Mai;t,'ai'etta  (irey,  '"  that  with 
an  increase  of  wealth  unc(juall\  disLrihuted,  and  a  pressure  of 
j>()j)ulation,  tiiere  has  sjtrnnn' u[»  amon;j^  us  aspuiious  i-eiiiuunent 


that 


craJnjts    the  en(!i-yy 


an( 


I   circumscrilx's   the    usefrdness  of 


women   in   the   U|»i)"r  classes  of  .society.      A   lady,   to   he  such, 

must  he  a  lady,  and  nothini;'  else Ladies  dismissed  from 

the  dairy,  the  coid\>ctionerv,  tlu^  stoi'c-room,  th(^  still-room,  tlu* 
poultry-yard,  tin;  kitchen-^anlcn.  ami  the  orchartl  [she  mi^lit 
liavt^  added,  the  spinnin;;;-wlieel],  ha\«'  hardly  yet  found  tor 
themsehc  a  s|»]iei"e  e(|ually  nsci'ul  and  imitoi-tant  in  the  ))ursiiiis 
cf  ti'ade  and  art  to  which  ti,  a]>|ily  thcii-  too  ahnndant  h  isnrc. 

"  When,  at  any  time,  has  society  pi'csented,  on  th(*  om*  lumd, 
so  hir^'c  an  array  of  j-espectahly  e(luc.it(Ml  individuals,  (!nd)ai- 
rassed  for  want  of  a  projter  calliji-::,  and,  on  tlu.'  otiier,  so  [)(»n- 
dci'ous  a  multitude  of  untrained,  net; hi- ted  j>oor.  who  caiuiot. 
withfMit  hel)),  rise  out  of  their  misery  and  (leiiiadatittn  (  \Vli;!( 
an  ohstruction  to  usv-i'idness  and  all  eniineiicc*  of  character  is 
that  of  hein!^  too  rich,  or  t(»()  genteelly  connected,  to  worl<  at 
anything;  !" 

Many  iidelliu'cni,  hi).';h-ndnded  ladies,  who  haNc  felt  disyusted 


at  the  idleness  to  w  hiili 


ocu'tv     coiMh'iiins  them,  have    >f  lat( 


yeai-s  undertaken  the  work  of  visiting;  tlu*  ))ooraud  of  nursin,j; — 
a  nohle  work.  I>ut  thei-e  is  another  school  of  usefulness  wliich 
stands  (([ten  to  tiuun.  Let  them  study  tlu*  art  of  common  cook- 
ery, and  (litl'nse  the  knowled^^-e  of  it  among  tlu;  people.  They 
will  thus  do  an  innnense  anu)unt  of  j;;ood.  and  Itiiny  down  the 
l»lessin<j;s  of  many  a,  half-hunyei'ed  husbarid  upon  their  lienevo- 
lent   heads.      Wonu-n  of  the   [M.orer  classt>s  reijuire  much  helj* 


fJITAP.  XIV.] 


Joseph  Corhrff\s  Story. 


285 


from  tliosti  wlio  are  bi^ttor  oducjitcid,  or  wlio  li.ivc  Imch  pliiccd  in 
better  circuiustaiu'es  tliaii  tlicinsclvcs.  The  <,Mv;it<'r  iiunibcr  of 
tlif'in  iiian-y  yomii,',  and  suddenly  eiiier  upon  a  life  for  winch 
they  ha\('  not  received  tla;  siij^htest  |>re]»aration.  They  know 
iiothin;^  ol'  i-ookeiy,  of  sewing,',  or  ciolhes-niendin^,  oi"  t)f  (3cono- 
niical  ways  of  sjiendin<4"  their  Imshands'  money.  Ifence  slat- 
ternly and.  untidy  hahit.s,  and  uncoud'ortahle  homes,  from  which 
the  husliand  is  oiten  ;j;lad  to  seek  i'('f\i^e  in  tlie  nearest  public- 
house.  The  folh)wii>;;-  story,  told  by  Jose[»h  ('oil)ett,  a  IHrmin^- 
ham  opi'rative,  l»efore  a  Parliamentary  committee,  holds  true  of 
nnmy  working-}>eo})Ie  in  the  manul'actuiing  districts. 

"  Alv  mother,"  he  said.    "  work<!d  in  a  mainifactorv  from  a 


very  early   a^t 


She   \\  as  clevei-  and   industi'ious,   and,  more- 


ovei',  sJie 


liai 


I   tl 


le  n 


'luitat 


ion  o 


f  b 


'\\\\X  Nirtuous. 


Mie    was   re 


gardt 
marrii 


'(I  as  an  excellent   match   inr  the   workin,i;-man.      Slie  was 


•d  I'arlv.      She   became   th( 


mollier  ( 


)f  el 


even   c 


hihl 


ren 


1 


10 


am  the  eldest.  To  the  best  of  her  ability  she  pi'iformed  tl 
iniDortiiut  duties  of  a  wife  and  niothei'.  l*nt  she  was  lament- 
ably  delicieiit  in  doinesiic  kiiowled^^e.  In  that  most  impor- 
tant of  all  human  instruction — how  to  make  tlie  home  and 
th(i  Hi'eside  to  ]>ossess  a  charm  Ibi-  hei-  husliand  and  chil- 
dren— slie  had  never  i'eceive(l  one  sin>,de  lesson.  She  ]iad 
children  apace.  ^\,s  she  recoNcicd  from  her  lyimj-in,  s(»  she 
went  to  work,  the  babe  beinn"  broiii;lit  to  her  at  stated  times 
to  receiye  nourishment.  As  the  I'amily  increased,  so  cNcry- 
tliinii;'  like  comfort  disai»i»ea)'e(l  altogether.  The  jxtwer  to  make 
honu!  cheerful  aiul  comfortaltle  was  m^ye'r  iL,dven  to  her.  Slie 
know  not  the  value  of  cherislniii;'  in  my  father's  mind  a  love  of 
domestic  oltjects.  Not  one  moment's  happiness  did  I  ever  see 
xinder  my  father's  rt)of  All  this  dismal  state  of  things  I  can 
distinctly  ti'ace  to  the  entire  and  |ierfect  absence  of  all  trainin<^ 
and  instruction  to  my  mother.  He  became  intem)>erate,  an<l  his 
intem[)erance  made  her  necessitous.  She  made  many  efforts  to 
abstain  from  shop-work,  but  her  peciiiuarv  necessities  forced  her 
))ack  into  the  shoj).  The  family  was  laryc.  and  every  moment 
was  recjuiiM'd  at  home.  [have  known  her,  aft(M"  the  close  of  a 
liard  day's  work,  sit  up  neai-Iy  all  niLjht  for  several  nights 
toifcther,  washing'  and  mendiui;'  clothes.  AFy  fathtn'  could  have 
18 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


V 


*P     /Mj>jr 


0       /'4>V. 


<..     \° 


1.0 


I.I 


^-IIIIIM  |||||M 
-  lU  11111^ 

12.0 


illlM 


t'^9 


1.8 


1.25 

1.4 

1.6 

^ 

6"     — 

► 

7 


<^ 


/2 


^V 


*1^"3 


>;^« 


^:^ 


i* 


-(^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREIT 

WEBSTER, NY.  H580 

(7'A>  873-4503 


I 


' 

1 


286 


IimtrvcMon  of  Women. 


[oilAP.  XIV. 


no  comfort  there.  These  domestic  obligations,  wliich  in  a  well- 
reguhited  house  (even  in  that  of  a  working-man,  wliere  there  are 
prudence  and  good  management)  wouhl  Le  dono  so  as  not  to 
annoy  the  liusband,  Av^cre  to  my  father  a  sort  of  juinoyance  ;  and 
lie,  from  an  ignorant  and  mistaken  notion,  s<»uglit  comfort  in  an 
alehoTise.  My  motluM-'s  ignorance  of  household  duties,  my 
father's  consequent  irritahility  and  intemperance,  the  frightful 
poverty,  th(^  constant  (piarrelling,  the  pernicious  (example  to  my 
brothers  and  sisters,  tlu^  had  (effect  uj)on  th(>  future  conduct  of 
mv  brothel's — one  and  all  of  us  beiny;  foived  out  to  work  so 
young  that  our  feeble  eai'nings  Avould  produce  only  one  shilling 
a  week — cold  and  hunger,  and  the  innumerable  sutferings  of 
my  childhood  crowd  upon  my  mind  and  over})ower  me.  They 
keep  alive  a  dee])  anxiety  foi"  the  emancipation  of  thousands  of 
families  in  this  gi-eat  town  (IJirmingliam)  and  neighborliood  who 
are  in  a  similar  state  of  hori-ible  misery.  I\Iy  own  (>x])erieuce 
tells  me  that  tim  instruction  of  thci  females  in  the  work  of  a 
house,  in  teaching  them  to  [troduce  checn-fulness  and  comfort  at 
the  fireside,  would  jtrevent  a  great  aniovint  of  misery  and  crinu\ 
There  would  be  fewei"  drunken  husbands  and  disobedient  chil- 
dren. As  a  working-man,  Avithin  my  own  observation  female 
education  is  disgracefully  n(\glect(Hl.  1  attach  more  importance 
to  it  thr.n  to  anything  (dse  ;  for  woman  im])a,i'ts  the  hi-st  impres- 
sions  to  the  young,  susc(^ptil)le  mind  ;  sh(>  models  the  child  from 
which  is  foruuxl  the  future  man." 


C^HAPTER  XV^ 

I'ffK    ART   OF    Ln-JN(;. 

-L't't  not  what  J  ,..,„„*- I  ""''«'•   -.Swikt. 

V„,  "M^*'" ■  of !,.l,  ';,»"■  p 

!"i^'  the  host  of.v.rvt  i   .       t"'^./"  *'^"'  ^^''^  ••'^•"<'.n  i      ,.  '  " 
'"^'» 'I'Hl  mro  timt  aJJ  I'lvT'"^'' ^        J-'aiihTnl  <.•(.„,    s.. 


. 


!  t 


2SS 


Jrf,  of  Lh'hif/  ExcmpUfml. 


[chap.  XV. 


wliolo.  H!tji)iiii('Hs  consists  in  Uu'  ciijoyinciit  of  littlt;  ploasures 
scattered  iiloni,'  tlie  coinvnon  })jitli  of  life,  wliicli,  in  the  eaf;er 
search  for  some  great  and  exciting  joy,  we  wrv  a))t  to  ovcM'look. 
It  tinds  delight  in  tlie  performance  of  connnon  duties,  faitlifully 
and  honoi'ahly  InlliUed. 

Tlie  art  of  living  is  abundantly  exempliH(d  in  actual  life 
Take  two  men  of  e(i[ual  means,  one  of  whom  knows  the  art  of 
living,  and  the  other  not.  The  one  has  the  seeing  ey(^  and  th(! 
intelligent  mind.  Natnn^  is  ever  new  to  him,  and  fvdl  of  beauty. 
H(!  can  live  in  the  present,  rehearst;  the  i)ast,  or  anticipate  the 
glory  of  tlu^  future.  With  him  life  has  a  deep  meaning,  and  re- 
(juires  the  p(M'formance  of  duties  which  wm  satisfactory  to  his 
conscience,  and  are  therefore  pleasm-able.  He  imi)roves  himself, 
acts  upon  his  age,  helps  to  elevate  the  depressed  classes,  and  is 
active  in  e\-ery  good  work.  His  hand  is  never  tired,  his  mind  is 
never  weaiy.  Ife  goes  through  life  joyfully,  iielping  others  to 
its  enjoyment.  Intelligence,  ever  expanding,  gives  him  (ncry 
day  fr<'sh  insight  into  men  and  things.  He  lays  dowii  his  life 
full  of  honor  and  l)lessing,  and  his  greatest  monnment  is  the 
good  (IcmmIs  he  has  done,  and  the  benelicent  example  he  has  set 
before  his  fellow-creatures. 

The  other  has  com[)arati\'ely  little  })leasure  in  life.  He  has 
scarctily  reached  manhood  er(>  he  has  exhausted  its  enjoyments. 
Money  has  done  everything  that  it  could  for  him,  yet  he  feels 
life  to  be  vacant  and  cheerless,  '^rravelling  do(!S  him  no  good, 
for,  for  him,  history  luis  no  meaning.  H((  is  only  alive  to  the 
impositions  of  innkeepers  and  couriei's,  and  tlu^  disagreeableness 
of  travelling  Ibrjclays  amidst  gieat  mountains,  among  ])easants 
and  shoe]),  crani|)ed  uji  in  a  carriage.  Picture-galleries  he  feels 
to  be  a  bore,  and  he  looks  into  them  because^  other  people  do. 
Thes(^  "pleasures"  soon  tire  him,  and  he  becomes  hlnsr.  When 
lie  grows  old,  and  has  run  tlu!  round  of  fashionable  (lissi[»ations, 
and  tlu're  is  nothing  left  which  he  can  i-elish,  life  bect)mes  a 
inas(iU(M'adi',  in  which  lie  recogniz(!s  only  knaves,  hypocrites,  and 
flatterers.  Though  he  does  not  enjoy  life,  yet  he  is  terrified  to 
leave  it.  TluMi  the  curtain  falls.  VVith  all  his  wealth,  life  has 
been  to  him  a  failure,  for  he  has  not  known  the  art  of  living, 
without  which  life  cannot  be  enjoyed. 


XV. 


CHAP.  XV.] 


Taste,  cut  Economist. 


289 


a;j;i'V 
look, 
fully 

.  life 
art  of 
id  tlie 
:}avity. 
te  tiie 
.11(1  i-e- 
to  liis 
iiuself, 

and  is 
luintl  is 
,Uevs  to 
1  every 
Ills  life 
:.  is  tin' 

lias  set 

He  liHS 
ivuu'uts. 
I'lu'  feels 
lio  i^ootl. 
(>  to  the 
li\)leuess 
[peasants 
\ic  fei'ls 
>o\)le  tl*'- 
When 
ji  Rations, 
i>ooiues  a 
Kt(>s,  iuul 
Ivnti''*^  to 
^  lift'  Ivas 
)f  liviiVii. 


It  is  not  wealth  that  <i;ives  the  tnie  ziest  to  Iif( ,  bnt  reflec- 
tion, ;q)))reeiation,  taste,  culture.  Abov(!  all,  the  seeiii;,'  eye  and 
the  feelin<2;  heart  are  indispensahle.  With  these,  the  huiul»lest 
lot  may  be  made  bless<'d  Labor  and  toil  mj'v  bt'  associated 
with  the  hijrhest  thoughts  and  tlte  purest  tastes.  The  lot  of  labor 
may  thus  become  elevated  and  ennobled.  Montaigne  observi's 
that  ''all  moral  philosophy  is  as  applicab]<'  to  a  Nulgar  and 
private  life  as  to  the  most  splendid.  F^veiy  man  carries  the  en- 
tire form  of  tlu^  human  condition  within  him." 

Even  in  material  comfort,  i;()od  taste  is  the  real  ec(moniist, 
as  well  as  an  enhancer  of  joy.  Scarcely  have  you  pass«Ml  the 
door-step  of  your  friend's  liouse,  wlien  you  can  detect  whether 
taste  j)resides  within  it  or  not.  Tliere  is  an  air  of  neatness, 
order,  arrangement,  gi-ace,  and  retinement,  that  gi\*'s  ;i  thrill  of 
pleasure,  though  you  can  not  define  it  or  explain  how  it  is.  There 
is  a  flower  in  the  window,  oi-  a  pictun^  against  the  wall,  that 
marks  the  honu^  of  taste.  A  bii-d  sings  at  tlie  window-sill  ; 
books  lie  about ;  and  the  furniture,  though  common,  is  tidy, 
suitable,  and.  it  may  b(%  even  eh-gant. 

The  art  of  li\ing  extends  to  all  the  economies  of  the  house- 
hold. It  selects  v/holesome  food,  and  ser\-es  it  with  taste.  There, 
is  no  profusion  ;  the  fare  may  be  very  humble,  but  it  has  a  savor 
about  it  ;  e\eiything  is  so  clean  and  neat,  the  w  >ter  so  sparkles 
in  the  glass,  that  you  do  not  dt  sire  richer  xiauds  or  a  moiv  ex- 
citing bes'erage. 

Jiook  into  anotluu"  house,  and  you  will  see  profusion  enough, 
without  eithei-  taste  or  order.  The  expenditure  is  larger,  and 
yc^t  you  do  not  feel  "  at  home  "  there,  'j'he  atmosphere  seems 
tt)  be  full  of  discomfoi't.  l»ooks,  hats,  shawls,  and  stockings  in 
cours(;  of  re[)air,  are  strew(Ml  about.  Two  or  three  chairs  are 
loaded  with  go(>ds.  Tlie  rooms  are  hngi^fcr-niugger.  No  uuitter 
liow  much  mon(\v  is  spent,  it  dtx's  not  mend  matters.  Taste  is 
wanting,  for  the  manager  of  the  household  has  not  yet  learned 
the  art  of  living. 

You  see  tlie  same  contrast  in  cottagedife.  The  lot  of  poverty 
is  sweeteiu^d  by  taste.  It  selects  the  healthiest,  openest  n<Mgh- 
borhood,  wh(»re  tlm  air  is  pure  and  the  streets  ai'e  clean.  You 
see,  at  a  glance,  by  the  sanded  dooi' step,  and  tlu^  window-panes 


f^vw^m^ma 


290 


Contrasts  in  Cuitaye  Life. 


[chap.  XV. 


witlumt  a  speck — perhaps  blooniiiiii,-  voses  or  <,a'niniunis  sliiiiing 
tlirough  tlHiiii — that  the  tenant  witliiu,  howi^ver  })oor,  knows  the 
art  of  making  the  best  of"  his  h)t.  How  different  from  tlie  fonl 
cottage-uwellinys  yon  see  els;ew]i(!re,  with  the  dirty  chihh'en 
phiyini,'  in  tli<^  ;j,iitt(M's,  the  slattern-like,  women  loun,L,'in<4  hy  the 
<loor-cheek,  and  the  air  of  sidleji  po\ crty  that  seems  to  })(U'vade 
the  place  !  And  y(;t  th(!  weekly  ineomt!  in  the  former  home 
may  be  no  gre-ater,  perha]>s  e\('n  less,  than  in  the  (^tlui'. 

I  Tow  is  it  that  of  two  men  woi'king  in  the  sanu^  held  or  in  tlu; 
same  shoj),  one  is  merry  as  a.  lark  ;  alw;.ys  cheerful,  well-clad, 
and  as  clean  as  his  work  ^vill  allow  him  tol»e;  com 's  out  on 
Sunday  mornings  in  his  Ixist  suit  to  go  to  chuirh  witli  his 
fan)ily  ;  is  jiever  without  a  ]ieu;iy  in  his  ))urse,  and  has  some- 
tliing  besides  in  the  savings-baidc  ;  is  a  readei-  of  books  and  a, 
snbscriber  to  a  newsj»aper,  besides  taking  in  some  literary 
journal  for  family  reading:  while  tla^  other  man,  with  e(inal  or 
even  superior  weekly  wages,  counts  to  work  in  tlu;  mornings  sour 
and  sad  ;  is  alvvr.ys  full  of  grumbling  ;  is  badly  clad  and  l)adly 
shod  ;  is  ncNcr  seen  out  of  his  houst;  on  Sundays  till  abont  mid- 
day, when  h(i  appears  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  his  face  unwashed,  his 
hair  unkempt,  his  eyes  bleared  and  bloodshot  ;  his  children  left 
to  I'un  about  the  gutt(^rs,  with  no  one,  a])parently,  to  care  for 
them;  is  always  at  his  last  coin,  (^\ce}»t  on  Saturday  night,  and 
then  In'  has  ii  long  scores  of  borrowings  to  re)>ay  ;  belongs  to  no 
club,  has  nothing  sa^cd,  but  lives  literally  from  hand  to  mouth  ; 
reads  nom^,  thinks  non<!,  but  oidy  toils,  eats,  drinks,  and  sleejis 
— why  is  it  that  there  is  so  remarkable  a.  diti'erence  between 
these  two  men  1 

Sinn»ly  for  this  reason  :  that  the  one  Iims  tlie  intelligence  and 
the  art  to  extract  joy  and  hap|>iness  from  lih^;  to  be  ha])])y  him- 
self, and  to  make  those  about  him  happy;  whereas  th(^  other  has 
not  cultivated  his  intelligenc(^  and  knows  nothing  whatever  of 
the  art  of  either  niMking  himself  or  his  family  happy.  With  the 
one,  life  is  a  scene  of  losing,  hel|>ing,  and  symi)athi/ing;  of  eare- 
fidness,  forethouglit,  and  cidcidation ;  of  rellection,  action  and 
duty:  with  the  other,  it  is  oidy  a  rough  scrainbht  for  nu^at  and 
drink  ;  duty  is  not  thought  of,  rellection  is  banished,  prudent 
forethought  is  ne\  er  for  a  moment  entertaint?d, 


XV, 


CHAP.   XV.] 


LiruHj  at  Hume. 


291 


unng 
-s  tlio 
•  foiil 
ildveu 
)y  the 
•vvade 
home 

in  tlu! 
11-cliul, 
(nit  on 
itli  lii« 
s  souie- 
i  and  it 
litcvavy 
(jiuil  or 

li;.'SSOUV 

id  badly 
)iit  luid- 
hcd, Ins 
von  left 
I'juH^  for 
i;l\t,  and 
u;s  to  no 
month  ; 
lid  slct^ps 
llu'tween 

IMice  and 
]>l»y  him- 
tthcr  has 
Ivtnvcr  of 
With  tJK' 
of  oiirc- 
I'tion  and 
liuMit  and 
|)rud«'ul- 


But  look  to  tho  result :  tlio  former  is  respected  by  Ids  fellow- 
woi'knien  and  belovecl  by  his  fauuly ;  lu;  is  an  example  of  well- 
bein|f  anil  well-doin^f  to  all  wiio  are  within  reach  of  his  influence: 
whereas  tlu;  other  is  as  uuretlective  and  miserable;  as  natun;  will 
allow  him  to  bt^  ;  he  is  shunned  by  jLjood  men  :  his  fjtuiily  aro 
afraid  at  the  sound  of  his  footsteps,  his  wife  perha[)s  tiXMuldiug 
at  his  ap[)ro;ich ;  he  dies  without  leaviui;  any  i-eniets  behind  him, 
except,  it  niay  l)e,  on  tht;  [tart  of  his  family,  wlio  ai'e  left  to  be 
maintained  by  the  chai'ity  of  the  piddie,  or  by  the  })ittanco  doled 
out  by  the  overseers. 

Foi'  thcs(i  n^asous,  it  is  worth  (!verv  man's  while;  to  studv  the 
important  art  of  li\in<i;  happily.  H]\'(,'n  the  pooi'(;st  Viian  may  by 
this  means  extract  an  increased  amount  of  joy  and  blessing  from 
life.  Tin;  world  need  not  be  a  "vale  of  tears,"  unless  we  our- 
selves will  it  to  be  so.  We  have  the  conunand,  to  a  great  extent, 
over  our  own  lot.  At  all  evemts,  our  mind  is  our  own  posses- 
sion; we  can  cherish  liappy  thotights  there;  we  can  rt>gulate  and 
control  o\u'  tempei's  and  disjiositions  t(j  a  considerabh;  extent ; 
we  can  educate  ourselves,  and  bring  out  the  better  [tart  of  our 
nature,  which  in  most  men  is  allowed  to  sleep  a  deep  sleep;  we 
can  read  good  books,  cherish  piu'i;  thoughts,  and  lead  lives  of 
peace,  temjtei-ance,  and  virtu(\  so  as  to  secure  the  res[)ect  of  good 
men,  antl  transnut  tlu;  blessing  of  a  faithful  examph^  to  our  suc- 
cessors. 

The  art  of  living  is  best  twhibited  in  the  home,  Tla;  hrst 
condition  of  a  ha]»[)V  honu',  where  good  influences  jtrevail  over 
bad  ones,  is  comfort.  When^  there  an;  carking  cares,  ((uerulous- 
ness,  untidiness,  sloveidiness,  and  dirt,  ther(>can  he  little  comfort 
eith(;r  for  man  or  woman.  Tlu;  husltand  who  has  been  working 
all  dayexixH'ts  to  ha\(^  something  as  a  compensation  for  his  toil. 
The  least  that  his  wife;  can  do  for  liim  is  to  mak(;  his  houst; 
snug,  clean,  and  tidy,  against  his  home-condng  at  eve.  Tiiat  is 
the  truest  (>conomy,  tin;  best  housekeeping,  the  worthiest  doiuestic 
numagement,  which  makes  the  home  so  phiasant  and  agreeable 
that  a  man  feels,  when  appi'oaching  it,  that  he  is  about  to  enter 
a  sanctuary  ;  and  that  when  there,  there  is  no  ale  house  attrac- 
tion that  f-an  draw  him  awav  from  it. 

Some  say  that  we  worship  condbrt  too  uuich.     The  word  in 


292 


Home  and  Contfort. 


[chap.  XV. 


essentially  English,  and  is  said  to  be  nntranslatahle,  in  its  full 
meaning,  into  any  foreign  language.  It  is  intimately  connected 
with  the  fireside.  In  wai'mer  climes,  people  contrive  to  live 
out-of-doors.  They  sun  thems(!lves  in  the  streets.  Half  their 
lif(^  is  in  public.  TIk^  g<'nial  air  wooes  tlicui  forth,  an<l  keeps 
tlieui  abroad.  They  enter  their  lious(;s  merely  to  eat  and  sleep. 
Th(3y  can  scarcely  be;  said  to  Ure  there. 

How  ditl'erent  is  it  with  us  !     The  raw  air  without,  during  so 
many  uionths  of  the  year,  drives  us  within-doors.      Hence  we 
cultivate  all  mannisr  of  home  pleasures,      llem-e  the  host  of  de- 
lightful associations  which  rise  u[)  in  thi;  mind  at  the  mention  of 
the  word  home.      Henc(!  our  household  god,  Comfort. 

We  ar(^  not  satisticnl  uierely  Avith  a  home.  It  nmst  be  com- 
fortable, '^riie  most  wretche<l,  indeed,  arc^  tliosc^  Avho  hav(^  no 
houies — the  homeless  1  but  not  less  wrtitched  are  those  whoS(; 
houies  are  without  comfort — those  of  whom  Charles  Lamb  once 
said,  "  The  h<;)Uies  of  the  xevy  poor  are  no  homes."  It  is  comfort, 
then,  that  is  the  soul  of  the  home — -its  essential  principle,  its 
vital  element. 

CVmifort  does  not  merely  mean  warmth,  good  furniture,  good 
eating  and  drinking.  It  means  something  higher  than  this.  It 
means  cleanlintiss,  ])uve  air,  ordei',  frugality  ;  in  a  word,  house- 
thrift  and  dom(^stic  government.  Comfort  is  th(^  soil  in  which 
the  human  Ix^ing  grows,  iiot  only  i)hysically.  but  morally.  Com- 
fort lies,  iiuh'ed,  at  tlu^  root  of  many  virtues. 

W(^alth  is  not  necessary  for  comfort.  Luxury  rcijuires  wealth, 
but  not  comfort.  A  ])()or  man's  honu^,  moderately  supjJied  with 
the  necessaries  of  life,  presided  over  by  a  cleanly,  frugal  house- 
wife, may  contain  all  the  elements  of  comfortabh;  living. 
Comfortlessuess  is  for  the  most  part  caiis(>d,  not  so  nnu'h  by  the 
absence  of  sulHcient  m(>ans  as  by  the  abs(Uice  of  the  riiquisiti! 
knowledges  of  donu'stic  manngenuMit. 

Comfort,  it  must  b(>  admitted,  is  in  a  great  measure  rdat'nr. 
What  is  comfort  to  one  mail  would  be  misfuy  to  another.  Kven 
tht^  commonest  mechanic  of  this  day  would  consider  it  misei'able 
to  live  after  the  style  of  tins  nobles  a  tew  centuries  ago  —  to 
sleep  on  straw  beds,  an<l  live  in  rooms  littei-ed  with  rushes. 
Willitim  tlui  Con(|ueror  lunl  neitlmr  a  shirt  to  his  back  nor  a  panc! 


CHAP.  XV.] 


Comforfable  People. 


293 


of  glass  to  his  windows.  Queen  Eliziil)eth  was  one  of  the  first 
to  wear  stockini^s.      All  the  ([uecns  Ix'fore  Iier  were  stock iuijfless, 

Comf<.:t  depends  as  nnich  on  i)ers(jns  as  on  "things."  It  is 
out  of  the  character  and  tein[)er  of  those  who  govern  homes  that 
the  feeling  of  comfort  arises,  much  more  than  out  of  handsome 
furniture,  heated  roouis,  oi'  houstdiohl  luxui'ies  and  couvciiiences. 

(Jomfortal)l('  ]>e()])l('  are  kiniUy-tcmjH'rcd.  ( j!(»()d-t<mi[)er  may 
be  set  down  as  an  iuvariahk!  condition  of  comfort.  There  must 
be  peace,  nuitual  forbearance,  mutual  help,  and  disposition  to 
make  the  best  of  everything.  ••  I'ettei-  is  a  dinner  of  herbs 
where  love  is,  than  a  stalled  ox  iuid  luttn^d  tlu'n'with." 

Comfortable  peo]»h>  are  persons  of  common  sense,  discretion, 
])rudence,  and  economy.  Tlu^y  have  a  natural  aftinity  foi"  honesty 
and  justice,  goodness  and  truth.  The}'  do  not  run  into  del)t,  for 
that  is  a  species  of  dishoiu'sty.  They  live  within  tlu'ir  means, 
and  lay  ])y  something  for  a  rainy  day.  They  pi'ovid(^  for  the 
things  of  their  own  household,  yet  tlu-y  are  not  wanting  in  hos- 
l)itality  and  benevolence  on  litting  'Occasions.  And  wliat  tliey 
do  is  done  Avithout  ostentation. 

Comfortable  peoj)le  do  e\ery  thing  in  oi'ihu'.  They  are  syste- 
matic, steady,  sobci-,  indnstrious.  They  dress  comfortal)ly.  Tluy 
ada})t  themselves  to  the  season^ — neitlie)'  shivering  in  winter, 
nor  per.s])iring  in  summer.  They  do  not  toil  after  a  "  fashiona))le 
appearance."  They  spend  nu)re  on  wai-m  stoc.'kings  thiin  on  gold 
I'ings,  and  prefer  healthy,  good  bedding-  to  gaudy  window  cur- 
tains. Their  cliairs  are  solid,  not  'dmcrack.  Tliev  will  bear 
sitting  upon,  though  they  may  not  be  ornamentnl. 

The  organization  of  the  home  depends,  for  the  most  i)art,  u])on 
women.  She  is  necessai'ily  the  miinagcM-  of  (n'ery  family  and 
househohl.  IFow  nuich,  therefore,  must  depend  upon  her 
intelligent  co-o])eration  !  jNFan's  life  revolves  round  woman.  She 
is  tlm  sun  of  his  social  system.  She  is  tlu^  r[ueen  of  domestic  life. 
The  comfort  of  (ntny  home  mainly  de[>ends  u[)on  lier — n))on  liei- 
character,  her  t(Mnj)er,  her  power  of  organization,  and  her 
business  management.  A  man  may  be  economical,  but  unh'ss 
there  be  economv  at  home,  his  frnu.alitv  will  be  comnarativelv 
useless.  *'  A  man  cannot  thrixc,"  the  pi'overb  says,  "  uidess 
his  wife  let  him." 


294 


Bdipjicp.nce  of  House-thrift. 


fcHAP.  XV, 


Hou.se-tlirift  is  homely,  but  beiK^liceiit.  Though  unseen  of  the 
worhl,  it  makes  many  ])eoph!  happy.  It  woi'ks  U[)on  individuals; 
and  l»y  elevating'  them,  it  elevates  soci<'ty  itself.  It  is,  in  fact, 
a  receipt  of  infallihle  etiicacy  for  confeiTini,'  the  ni-eate.st  possihh^ 
]ia[)piness  upon  tlu^  greatest  possible  number.  Without  it,  legis- 
lation, benevolence,  and  ]»hilanthro|)y  are  nier(^  ]»alliatives  ; 
sometimes  worse  than  iiseless,  because  they  h<ild  out  ho[)es  Avhich 
are  for  the  most  |)art  disappointcrl. 

How  happy  does  a  man  go  forth  to  his  lal>or  (»•  his  Ijusiness, 
and  how  doul)ly  happy  does  lie  return  from  it,  when  he  knows 
that  his  means  are  carefully  husbiinded  ;ind  wisely  ap})]ied  by 
a  judicious  and  well-managing  wifc\  I  Such  a  woman  is  not  only 
a  })Ower  in  her  own  house,  l)ut  her  exaniph-  goes  forth  among 
her  neighl)ors,  and  she  stands  before;  them  as  a  model  and  a 
pattern.  'Wv  habits  of  her  children  jire  foinuMl  after  her  habits  ; 
her  actual  life  beconu'S  the  nu)del  after  which  thev  unconsciously 
mold  themselves  ;  for  exam[)le  always  s[ieaks  more  eloquently 
tlian  ^vords  ;  it  is  insti'uction  in  action — wisdom  at  work, 

I'^irst  among  woman's  cpialities  is  the  intelligent  use  of  her 
hands  and  iingei's.  I^Acny  one  knows  how^  us(\ful,  how  indispens- 
able to  the  comfoi't  of  a  household,  is  the  tidy,  managing,  handy 
"Woman.  Pestalozzi,  with  his  usual  sagacity,  has  ol)served  that 
half  the  education  of  a  woman  comes  through  her  tingei-s.  There 
are  wisdom  and  virtue  at  her  Hnger-ends.  IJut  intellect  must 
also  accomi)any  thrift ;  they  must  go  hand-indiand.  A  woman 
must  not  only  be  cleA'cr  with  her  ling(n's,  but  poss(!Ssed  of  the 
]K)wer  of  organizing  household  work. 

There  nnist  be  method.  The  lat(;  Sir  Arthur  Heljjs  observed 
that,  "as  women  are  at  jtresent  educated,  they  are  foi'  tlu^  most 
part  thorougldy  deticient  in  iiicf/ax/.  lUit  this  surely  migh  be 
remedied  i»y  ti'aining.  To  take  a  very  humble  and  simple; 
instance  :  Why  is  it  that  a  man-cook  is  always  better  than  a 
woinan-cook  1  Simply  becaus*;  a,  man  is  moie  uu^thodical  in  his 
arrangements,  and  iclies  nujre  upon  his  weights  and  measures. 
An  emini^nt  physician  told  nu;  that  ]\v.  thought  women  were 
absolutely  deticient  in  the  a[>[>recation  of  tinu'.  I'ut  this  I  hold 
to  be  mertily  one  instance  of  their  genei-al  want  of  accuracy,  for 
which  there  are  easy  renu^dies  that  is,  easy  if  begun  early 
enough," 


CHAP.  XV.] 


Iiuhifitrij  and  Putictaalitij. 


295 


Accor(lin<fly,  to  maiiu^t'  .-i  liousolioid  etKciontly,  there  iiuist  he 
iuetho(h      Without   this,   work   can    not   Ix;   ''ot  thronu'li  satis- 


factorily,   either    in    otilces,     workshops 


J ' 


or    lious* 


'hohli- 


T'Y 


!iri'augiiii5  work  properly,  by  doiii^'  every  thiiii^  sit  th(>  riyht  time, 


with 


II  view 


to  tl 


le  eeonoinv  o 


f  hil 


»oi'. 


hirii,' 


e  aiiioun 


t  ofl 


)nsniess 


can  be  aceoni])lished.      Muddle  flies  belor(^  method,  and  hu,ixi,^er- 
mu,Lj,<jfei'  disappears.     Thei'e  is  also  a  nn'thod    in  spendinjjf — in 


1 


rhic'li 


iluable  to  tlu;  housewife 


n;;'  out  money- 

nu;thod  is  in  accomplishing  her  work.  Money  slips  throuj^h  the 
tiui^ers  of  some  people  like  (pncksilver.  We  have  already  seen 
that  many  m(>n  are  spendthrifts.  But  many  women  ai'e  the 
sa.m(^ :  at  least  they  do  not  know  how  to  (expend  their  husband's 
earnings  to  the  best  advautat^e.  You  ol>serve  thinsjfs  very  much 
out  of  place — frills  and  rultles  and  ill-darned  stockinys,  line 
bonnets  and  clouted  sho(!S,  silk  yowns  and  dirty  jietticoats ; 
while  the  husband  ^'oes  about  raLf.ifed  and  torn,  with  scarcely  a 
clean  thinfj  about  him. 

Industry  is,  of  course,  ess(^ntial.  This  is  the  soul  of  business  ; 
but  without  method,  iiulustry  ^\  ill  b(^  less  productive.  Industry 
may  sometimes  look  like  confusiori  ;  but  the  methodical  and  in- 
dustrious woman  gets  tlii'ou.^'h  Ian*  work  in  a,  (|uiet,  steady  style 
— without  fuss,  4ir  noise,  or  dust-clouds. 

Prudence  is  anothei-  important  hous<'hol(l  ([ualitication. 
dence  comes  from  cultivated  jud_2;ment  :  it  nn^ans  practical 
wisdom.  It  has  reference  to  titness,  to  propriety  ;  it  judijfes  of 
the  rijjjht  thing  to  be  done,  and  of  the  right  way  of  doing  it.  It 
calculates  the  mtnms,  cmh^r,  time,  and  method  ot"  doing.  Pru- 
dence learns  much  frou)  experience.  <piickened  by  knowledge. 

Punctuality  is  another  endnently  houseliold  i| ualitication. 
How  many  grunddings  wouhl  he  avoided  in  domestic  lif(^  l)y  a 
little  more  attention  being  paid  to  tliis  \irtue.  Lat(!  breakfasts 
and  late  dinners — "  too  late;"  for  chui-ch  and  market ;  "  clean- 
ings" out  of  time,  and  '•  washings"  protracted  till  midnight ; 
bills  ])ut  off  with  a  "  call  again  to-moi-row  ;"  engagements  and 
promises  unfulfilled — wluit  a  host  of  little  nuisances  spring  to 
mind  at  thought  of  the  unpunctual  housewife!  The  uni»unctual 
woman,  like  the  unpunctual  m;>n,  becomes  disliked,  Ix'cause  sla; 
consunies  our  time,  interferes  with  our  j)lans,   causes  uneasy 


Pru- 


296 


MaiKKjement  of  J^emper. 


[chap.  XV. 


feelings,  and  vii-tiKilly  tells  xis  that  we  are  not  of  sr.fticient  im- 
portance to  cause  her  to  he  iiiorf  jMinct'.ial.  To  the  business 
man  time  is  money,  and  to  t\u'  husincss  woniuu  it  is  more — it 
is  j)eace,  comfort,  and  domestic  j»rosj«'rity. 

Perseverance  is  another  good  household  hal>it.  Lay  down  a 
good  plan,  and  adhere  to  it.  Do  not  he  tm-ned  from  it  without 
a  suiticient  reason.  l^^ollow  it  di!iu<Mil]y  and  faithfully,  and  it 
will  yield  fruits  in  good  season.  If  the  j»lan  Ix;  a,  [)i'udent  oik;, 
based  on  practical  wisdom,  all  things  will  gravitate  toward  it, 
and  a  mutual  dependence  will  gradually  l)e  established  among 
all  the  parts  of  the  domestic  system. 

We  might  furnish  numei-ous  ]»ractical  illusti-ations  of  the 
tnith  of  these  remarks,  l)ut  our  space  is  nearly  tilled  up,  and  we 
nnist  leave  the  readei-  to  su})j)ly  tliem  from  his  or  her  own  ex- 
perience. 

There  are  many  other  illustrations  whicii  might  be  adduce<l 
of  the  art  of  nuiking  life  lmj>j)y.  The  maDagenteiJuof  the  tempei' 
is  an  art  full  of  bi^neiicent  results.  \\\  kindness,  cheerfulness, 
and  forbearance  we  can  be  happy  aluujst  at  will,  and  at  the 
same  time  spread  hapj)iness  about  us  on  every  side.  We  can 
encourage  happy  thoughts  in  ourstdves  and  others.  We  can  be 
sober  in  habit.  What  can  a  wife  aiid  lier  children  think  of  an 
intem})eratehus!)an(l  and  father  '.  Wv  can  ]>e  sol>i'r  in  language, 
and  shun  cursing  and  sweaiing — the  most  useless,  unmeaning, 
and  brutal  of  vulgarities.  Nothing  can  be  so  silly  and  unmc^an- 
iiig — not  to  say  shocking,  re[)ulsive.  and  sinful — as  the  oaths  so 
comm(m  in  the  mouths  of  \  ulgar  swcaicrs.  They  are  profana- 
tion without  purpose^  ;  impiety  withoi  provocation  ;  blasphemy 
without  excuse. 

This  leads  us  to  reuiark,  in  passing,  that  in  this  countiy  we 
are  not  sulhciently  instructed  in  the  art  of  good  manners.  W(! 
are  rather  grutf,  and  sometimes  unapproa'hable.  Manners  do 
not  make  the  man,  as  the  proverb  alleg«.'s  ;  but  manners  make 
the  man  nnich  more  agreeable.  A  man  may  be  noble  in  his 
lieart,  true  in  his  dealings,  virtuous  in  his  conduct,  and  yet  un- 
mannerly. Suavity  of  dispositi(jn  and  gentleness  of  manners 
give  the  ttnish  to  the  true  gentleman. 

By  good  manners  we  do  not  mean  eti([uette.     This  is  only  a 


CHAP.  XV.] 


Oond  Manmrs. 


297 


convcntiDiiiil  set  of  nil<'s  ;u]optt'.l  l>y  what  is  call('<l  "j^jood 
society  ;"  and  many  of  tlit>  i-iiles  of  «'ti<iu('tt(>  arc  of  the  essence 
of  rndeness.  F]ti(|uette  (hx's  not  periuit  ijentecl  peoph'  to  reco<(- 
nize  in  tlie  .streets  a  man  with  a  sluthhy  coat,  thou!L,di  he  he  tlu'Ii- 
ln'otliei'.  Eti(iuettf'  is  a  liar  in  its  "not  at  liome  " — ordei-ed  to 
be  tohl  hy  servants  to  caUcrs  at  inconvenient  seasons. 

Good  manners  inchide  many  re(|iiisiti!S  ;  bnt  they  chietiy  con- 
sist in  politeness,  .  Mirtesy,  and  kiiKhiess.  Tliey  cannot  he 
tantdit  hv  ruh\  ])nt  tliev  mav  l»e  tan^lit  l»v  exaini>h\  It  has 
l)een  said  that  ]iolitencss  is  the  ai't  of  sliowiii'/  men,  hy  external 
si<^ns,  the  internal  rei^'ard  we  have  for  them.  \\\\t  a  man  may 
he  i>ci'fectlv  polite  to  another  withont  necessariiv  liavinijanv  re- 
jjjard  for  him.  (lood  manners  are  neitlx"-  movp  nor  h'^.s  than 
beaivtifnl  behavior.  It  has  Seen  well  jd  that  *'  a  beantifnl 
form  is  I'.'tter  than  a  beantifnl  face,  and  a  bcaetifnl  l)ehavior  is 
bettei  Luan  a  beautiful  form  ;  it  <i;ives  a  Iri  (Ivr  })leasiire  than 
statues  or  [)ictures  ;  it  is  the  fine -it  of  the  tine  ai'ts." 

Manner  is  the  ornament  of  action  ;  indeeii,  a  <>\)od  action 
without  a  good  manner  of  doing  it  is  stripped  of  half  its  value. 
A  poor  fellow  gets  into  dithculties,  and  solicits  hel]»  of  a  friend. 
He  obtains  it,  l)ut  it  is  with  a  "  Tlwre — take  that ;  but  I  don't 
like  lending."  The  help  is  given  with  a  kind  of  kick,  and  is 
scarcely  accepted  as  a  t;ivor.  The  maniKU'  of  the  giving  long 
rankles  in  the  mind  of  the  acceptor.  Thus  good  manners  mean 
kind  manners,  benevolence  being  the  }»reponderating  (dement  in 
all  kinds  of  pleasant  intercoui'se  bcitwcseii  human  beings. 

A  story  is  told  of  a  poor  soldier  having  oiu;  day  called  at  the 
shop  of  a  hair-dresser,  who  w'as  l)usy  with  his  customers,  and 
asked  relief,  stating  that  he  had  staid  beyond  his  leave  of 
absence,  and  unless  he  could  get  a  lift  on  the  coach,  fatigue  and 
severe  punishment  awaited  him.  The  hair-dresser  listened  to 
his  story  resj)ectfull\-,  and  gave  him  a  guinea.  '*  (lod  bless  you, 
sir  !  "  exclaimed  the  soldier,  astonislunl  at  the  amount,  "  how 
can  I  repay  you t  I  have  nothing  in  the  world  but  this" — 
pulling  out  a  dirty  })iece  of  [)a]>er  tVo)  i  his  pocket;  "  it  is  a 
receipt  for  making  blacking  ;  it  is  the  best  that  was  ever  seen. 
Many  a  half-guii  '^a  I  liave  liau  for  it  from  the  othcers,  and 
many  bottles  I  hav(>  sold.      May  you  be  able  to  get  something 


I!     » 


298 


Htihilnal  PolitencfiH. 


[chap.  XV. 


for  it  to  repay  yon  foi"  your  kiixluess  to  tlic  ])oor  soldier  1 " 
(.)(l(lly  enougli,  that  dii'ty  jiiocc  of  pa})(u-  proved  wortli  half  a 
mil  lion  of  money  to  the  haii -dresser.  It  was  no  less  than  the 
recei[)t  for  tlie  famous  ]);iy  t*c  Martin's  Ijlaekin;,' ;  the  liair- 
dress(*r  hein^'  the  Inte  wealtJiv  Mr.  I)av.  wlmse  manufaetorv  is 
one  of  the  notaltilitics  of  the  metropolis. 

(jrood  manners  ha\('  Keen  su[)posed  to  l)i'  a  peculiar  mai'k  of 
gentility,  and  that  the  individual  exlnluting  them  has  hecMi  boi'U 
in  some  upper  class  of  society.  i>ut  the  ])oorest  classes  may  ex- 
hibit good  manners  towai'd  each  othei',  as  well  as  the  lichest. 
One  may  Ix^  j»olite  and  l<ind  towai'd  others,  without  a  penny  in 
the  purse.  Politeness  goes  \ cry  fai',  yet  it  coses  nothing  ;  it  is 
the  cheapest  of  commodities.  \\\\\.  we  want  to  })e  taught  good 
manners  as  well  as  other  things.  Some  haj)py  natures  are  "  to 
the  nutnner  born."  ihit  the  bulk  of  men  need  to  be  taught 
manners,  and  this  can  only  l)e  eiiiciently  dou(i  in  youth. 

We  ha\'e  said  that  woi'king-men  mii'lit  studv  good  manners 
with  advantag<'.  W'liy  should  they  not  respect  themselves  and 
each  other?  It  is  by  theii-  demeanor  toward  each  other — in 
otluM"  words,  by  their  manners — that  self-respect  and  mutual 
res[)ect  are  indicated.  We  ha\'e  l)een  struck  ))y  the  habitual 
|)oliteness  of  e\-en  the  [joorest  classes  on  the  Continent.  The 
woi'kman  lifts  his  (;a|>  and  resjiectfully  ssdutes  his  fellow-work- 
man in  passing.  There  is  no  saci'itict^  of  manliness  in  this,  but 
rather  grace  and  dignity.  The  woi'king-man,  in  I'csix'cting  his 
fi'llow,  resj)ects  himself  and  his  order.  There  is  kindness  in  tlui 
act  of  r(!cognition,  as  well  as  in  the  maniuir  in  which  it  is 
<hinot(Ml. 

W(^  might  learn  nuu-h  from  the  Ki-encli  people  in  this  mattei-. 
They  are  not  oidy  polite  to  i^ach  other,  but  they  have  a  great 
I'espect  ibr  property.  Some  may  bt>  disposed  to  doubt  this,  after 
the  i-ecent  destruction  of  buildings  in  Paris.  lUit  the  Comnui- 
nists  unist  be  regarded  as  altogethei-  exceptional  people;  and  to 
und"rstaud  the  l^'rench  chai'acter,  avc  nuist  look  to  i\\v  l>ody  of 
the  population  scattered  throughout  Pi-ance.  There  we  tind 
pro[un-ty  much  nu)re  i'esj)ected  l>y  the  peo[>h^  than  among  oui'- 
selv(is.  Kven  the  beggar  )-espects  the  fruit  by  the  roadsi(h>, 
altliough  theri^  is  nobody  to  protect  it.     The  reason  of  this  is, 


CIIAl*.  XV.] 


Fnncli  Mnnnei's. 


21)') 


tliat  Fj'iiiu'c  is  a  nation  of  small  jn'oja'ictors;  that  pi'opoi'ty  is 
much  more  i^'cncrally  (lilVused  and  exposed  ;  and  parents  of  ov(M1 
the  lowest  elass  educates  their  children  in  cartsfiilness  of  and 
fidelity  to  the  property  of  othei-s. 

Tills  r('spe(;t  for  pro|>erty  is  also  accom]»anie(l  -with  resju-ct  for 
the  feeling's  of  others,  which  constitutes  what  is  caHcil  i;((od  man- 
ners. This  is  cai'efully  inculcated  in  the  children  of  all  ranks 
in  b'rance.  They  are  \ery  rarely  rude.  They  ar<'  civil  to  stran- 
i^ers.     Thev  a.re  civil  to  each  ()thei-.      ,M r.  Lain;.;-,  in  his  "Notes 


o 


f  a  T 


raveler,"   makes  thes(>   I'emai'ks 


This   i-eterence  to  tlu^ 


feeling's  of  others  in  all  that  we  do  is  a  moia.l  hahit  of  ijreat  value 
when  it  is  i^cnerally  ditfused,  and  enters  into  the  home-traininy; 
of  evei'v  familv.  It  is  an  education  hoi h  of  the  iiai'cnt  and  child 
in  morals,  cai'ried  on  thi'uu;;h  the  medium  of  external  manners. 
....  it  is  a  line  distinction  o+'  the  French  national  character, 
and  of  social  economy,  that  practical  moi'ality  is  more  jj^enerally 
taught  throuirh  manners,  anion;;"  and  l»y  the  peoph'  themselves, 
than  in  any  country  in  l^]uro|)e."' 

*/  »■  L 

The  same  kindly  feeling-  might  he  ohserxed  throughout  the  en- 
tii'e  social  iirtercourse  of  working-mi'u  with  each  other.  There 
is  not  a  moment  in  tln^ir  lives  in  which  the  oj)jK)rtunity  does  not 
occur  for  exhibiting  goo^i  manners  in  the  workshop,  in  the 
stret^t,  and  at  home.  l*ro\ided  there  l)e  a  wish  to  pleas<'  othei's 
by  kind  looks  and  ways,  the  habit  ol"  combining  good  mannei's 
with  every  action  will  soon  be  formed.  \i  is  not  merely  the 
]»leasure  a  man  gixcs  to  others  l)y  being  kind  to  them  :  he  re- 
(.'eiv(\s  tenfold  more  [)l(^asui'e  himself.  The  man  who  gets  up  and 
olfers  his  chair  to  a  woman,  or  to  an  old  man — trivial  though 
the  act  may  seem — is  rewai'ded  by  his  own  heart,  and  a  thrill  of 
])l(nisui'e  I'uns  through  him  the  moment  he  has  perfornu'd  the 
kindness. 

Work-pe()])le  need  to  practice  good  niannei's  toward  each  other 
th(!  more,  because  they  are  un<ler  the  necessity  of  constantly 
living  with  each  otlmr  and  among  each  other.  'J'hey  are  in  con- 
stant contact  with  thciir  fellow-woikmen,  whereas  the  I'ichei" 
classes  need  not  mix  with  men  unless  they  choose,  and  then  they 
can  s(de(!t  whom  they  like.  'IMie  working-man's  happiness  de- 
pends 'uuch  more  upon  the  kind  looks,  words,  ami  acts  of  those 


300 


Amusenipnl, 


[chap.  XV. 


immediately  about  liim  than  tlu;  rich  luau's  does.  It  is  so  in 
the  worksliop,  and  it  is  the  same  at  Jioiue.  There  tlie  workman 
cannot  rt^tire  into  his  study,  l«nt  nnist  sit  among  liis  family,  by 
the  side  of  his  wife,  with  his  children  about  him.  And  he  must 
either  live  kindly  with  them — jterforming  kind  and  obliging 
acts  toward  his  family,  or  he  must  see,  suffer,  and  endure  the 
intolerable^  miscny  of  reciprocal  uukindncss. 

Admitted  that  there  tin^  dilficulties  in  the  way  of  working- 
men  cultivating  tlu^  art  of  good  mauiiers  ;  that  their  circum- 
stances are  often  \ery  limited,  and  their  jjosition  unfavorable — 
yet  no  man  is  so  poor  but  that  he  can  be  civil  and  kind  if  he 
choose;  iind  to  be  civil  and  kind  is  the  v;ay  essence  of  good 
manners.  Even  in  the  most  adverse  circuuistjinces,  a  man  may 
try  to  do  his  best,  if  lie  do  -if  he  s|)eiik  and  act  courteously 
and  kindly  to  jill — -the  result  will  l)e  so  satisfactory,  so  self- 
rewarding,  that  he  cainiot  but  be  stimulated  to  persevere  in  the 
same  coui'se.  ilc  will  dilfuse  ple.-isure  about  him  in  the  home, 
make  friends  of  his  work-feilows,  and  be  regarded  with  increased 
kindnf^ss  and  i-espcct  by  e\-ery  right-miu(l(Hl  employer.  The  civil 
workman  will  (,'.\ercise  inei-easi'd  powi>r  among  his  class,  and 
gradually  induce  them  to  imitate  him  by  his  })ersistent  steadi- 
ness, civility  and  kindness.  Thus  l>enjamin  Ki-anklin,  when  a 
work-man,  refoinied  tlu^  habits  of  an  entire  workshoj). 

Then,  besides  the  general  pleasur(!  ai'isiug  fi'om  tlu^  ex(!rcise 
of  good  maimers,  thcn-e  is  a  great  deal  of  healthful  and  innocent 
pleasure  to  be  cUuivcvl  from  amusements  of  various  kinds.  One 
cannot  be  always  working,  eating  and  sleeping.  There  must  be 
time  for  relaxation,  tiuu!  lor  uu>ntal  i)leasures,  time  for  bodily 
exercise. 

TIku'c  is  a  j)rofound  uieaning  in  the  word  "  amusenu'nt;" 
much  mor(>  tiian  most  }ieo[)l>  are  disposc^l  to  admit.  In  fact, 
amusement  is  an  im}»ortant  [>art  of  education.  It  is  a  mistake 
to  suppt)se  that  thc^  boy  oi-  the  man  who  plays  at  some  outdoor 
gauui  is  wasting  Ids  tiiue.  AmuscMuent  of  any  kind  is  not  wast- 
ing time,  but  econouu/ing  life. 

llelax  and  exei'cise  frecpiently,  if  you  would  enjoy  good  health. 
If  you  do  not  rc^lax,  and  take  no  i^vercise,  the  results  will  soon 
appear  in  bodily  aihueuts  which  always  accouipany  s<ulentary 


CHAP.  XV,] 


liecreafion. 


301 


occupations.  "Tlio  students,"  says  Lord  Derby,  "wlio  think 
they  have  not  time  for  bodily  exercise  will,  sooner  or  later,  find 
time  for  illness." 

There  are  people  in  tlie  world  who  would,  if  they  had  the 
power,  hang  the  heavens  about  with  crape  ;  throw  a  shroud  over 
tlie  beautiful  and  life-giving  bosom  of  the  planet;  })ick  the  bright 
stars  from  the  sky;  veil  the  sun  with  clouds;  pluck  the  silver 
moon  from  her  place  in  the  firmament;  shut  up  our  ganhms  and 
fields,  and  all  the  flowers  with  which  they  are  bedecked  ;  and 
doom  the  woi-ld  to  an  atmos})here  of  gloom  and  cheerfulness. 
There  is  no  reason  or  morality  in  this,  and  tlujre  is  still  less  re- 
ligion. 

A  benevolent  Ci'eator  has  endowded  man  with  iin  eminent 
capacity  for  enjoyment — has  set  him  in  a  fair  and  lovely  world, 
surrounded  him  with  things  good  and  beautiful,  and  given  him 
tlie  dis])osition  to  love,  to  sympathize,  to  help,  to  produce,  to 
enjoy;  and  thus  to  become  an  honorable  and  a,  happy  being, 
bringing  (lod's  work  to  pi'rfection,  and  enjoying  tin;  divine  o'ea- 
ti<m  in  the  midst  of  which  he  lives. 

Make  a  man  happy,  aud  his  actions  will  be  happy  too;  dooui 
him  to  dismal  thoughts  and  miserable  circumstances,  and  you 
will  make  him  gloomy,  discontented,  morose,  an  1  pi'obably  vici- 
ous. Hence  coarseness  and  crime  ar(^  almost  invariably  foun<l 
among  those  who  have  never  been  accmstomed  to  be  cheeri'ul  ; 
whose  hearts  have  been  shut  against  the  purifying  influiiuces  of 
a  ha[)py  communion  with  natur(>,  or  an  (!nlighten<'d  and  cheer- 
ful intercourse  with  man. 

Man  has  a  strong  natural  a))))(^tite  for  relaxation  and  amuse- 
ment, and,  like  all  othei*  natural  ajtpetites,  it  has  been  implanted 
for  a  wise  })urpose.  It  cannot  be  i-epi-essed,  l>ut  will  break  out 
in  one  foi"m  or  anotlnM-.  Any  well-dii-ected  attempt  to  ]»romote 
an  innocent  ajuusement  is  woitli  a  do/eu  sermons  against  per- 
nicious ones.  If  we  do  not  pi-ovide  tin*  o)>j>()rtunity  foj- enjoying 
vviiolesome  pleasures,  mem  will  cei-tainly  find  out  vicious  ones  for 
themselves.  Sydnev  Smith  tiulv  said,  "  In  oi'dcfr  to  attack  Aice 
witli  efi'ect,  we  nuist  set  up  scnnething  better  in  its  place." 

Temperance  i-efoi-niers  have  not  sufliciently  tionsidered   lutw 
much  the  d»  hiking  habits  of  the  country  are  the  consequences  of 
19 


302 


Ivflitence  of  Mvstc. 


[chap. 


XV 


gross  tastes,  and  of  the  too  limited  opportunities  wliich  exist  iu 
this  country  for  obtaining  access  to  amusements  of  an  innocent 
and  improving  tendency.  Tlie  woi-kman's  tastes  liave  been  allow- 
ed to  remain  uncultivated;  present  wants  engross  his  thoughts  ; 
tlie  gratification  of  his  appetites  is  his  highest  pleasure;  and 
when  he  relaxes,  it  is  to  indulge  immoderately  in  beer  or  whisky. 
The  Germans  were  at  one  time  the  drunkenest  of  nations  ;  they 
are  now  among  tlie  soberest.  **  As  drunken  as  a  German  boor," 
was  a  common  proverb.  How  have  they  been  weaned  from 
drink  ?     Principally  by  education  and  music. 

Music  has  a  most  humanizing  effect.  The  cultivation  of  the 
art  has  a  most  favorable  influence  upon  public  morals.  It  fur- 
nishes a  source  of  pleasure  in  every  family.  It  gives  home  a 
new  attraction.  It  makes  social  intercourse  more  cheerful. 
Father  Matthew  followed  up  his  temperance  movement  by  a 
siuging  movement.  He  promoted  the  establishment  of  musical 
clubs  all  over  Ireland ;  for  he  felt  that,  as  he  had  taken  the  peo- 
})le's  whiskey  from  them,  he  nmst  give  them  some  wholesome 
stimulus  in  its  stead.  He  gave  theni  music.  Sin<>inf>'-classes 
were  established,  to  refine  the  taste,  soften  the  manners,  and 
humanize  the  niiiss  of  the  Irish  j)eople.  ]^ut  we  fear  that  the 
exani})le  set  by  Father  Matthew  has  already  been  forgotten. 

"  What  a  fulness  of  enjoyment,"  says  C'lianning,  "  has  our 
(Creator  ])laced  within  oui-  reach,  by  surrounding  us  with  an 
atmosphere  which  may  be  shaped  into  sweet  sounds  !  And  yet 
this  goodness  is  almost  lost  upon  us,  through  want  of  culture  of 
the  organ  by  which  this  provision  is  to  be  enjoyed." 

How  iJiuch  would  the  gen(>ral  cultivation  of  the  gift  of  music 
imj)rove  us  as  a  p(H)ple  !  Ohihlren  ought  to  learn  it  in  schools, 
as  they  do  in  Germany.  The  voice  of  music  would  then  be  heard 
in  every  household.  Oin*  old  J^higlisli  glees  would  no  longer  be 
forgotten.  Men  and  women  might  sing  in  the  intervals  of  their 
work,  as  the  Germans  do  ingoing  to  and  coming  from  their  wars. 
The  work  would  not  be  worse  done,  because  it  was  done  amidst 
music  and  cheerfulness.  The  breath  of  society  would  be  sweet- 
ened, and  pleasure  would  be  linked  with  labor. 

Why  not  have  some  elegance  in  even  the  humblest  home  ] 
We  must  of  course  have  cleanliness,  which  is  the  si)ecial  elegance 


CHAP.  XV.] 


Eltyiiiur,  of  Flowtt's. 


303 


t  music 


«)i  the  poor.  But  wliy  not  have  j)leiisant  and  deliglitful  things 
to  look  upon  ?  Tliere  is  no  reason  wliy  the  humbler  classes 
should  not  surround  themselves  with  the  evidences  of  beauty 
and  comfort  in  all  their  sha])os,  and  thus  do  homage  alike  to  the 
gifts  of  God  and  the  labors  of  man.  The  taste  for  the  beautiful 
is  one  of  the  best  and  most  useful  endowments.  It  is  one  of 
tiie  handmaids  of  civilixatiou.  Ijcauty  and  elegance  do  not 
necessarily  bfflong  to  the  homes  of  the  rich.  They  ai"e,  or  ought 
to  be,  all-pervading.  Beauty  in  all  things — in  nature,  in  art,  in 
sfience,  in  liten-ature,  in  social  and  domestic  lift'. 

How  beautiful  and  yet  how  cheap  are  ilowers  !  Not  exotics, 
but  what  are  called  connnon  ilowi'rs.  A  rose,  for  instance,  is 
among  the  most  beautiful  of  the  smiles  of  nature.  The  "  laugh- 
ing llowers,"  exclaims  the  poet.  l)Ut  theie  is  more  than  gayety 
in  blooming  flowers,  though  it  takers  a  Avisc  man  to  see  the 
beauty,  the  love,  and  the  adaptation  of  which  they  arc  full. 

What  should  we  think  of  one  who  li.-ul  'nircitfcd  (lowers,  su])- 
jtosing  that,  before  hini,  flowers  were  unknown  I  Would  he  not 
1k^  rc^garded  as  the  opener-up  of  a  paradise  of  new  delight  I 
Should  we  m)t  hail  the  inventor  as  a  genius,  as  a  god  \  And 
yt^t  these  lovely  oitsprings  of  the  eartii  have  been  speaking  to 
man  from  the  first  dawn  of  his  existence  until  now,  telling  him 
of  the  goodness  and  wisdom  of  the  (.^reative  I'ower,  which  I)id 
the  earth  bring  foi'fh,  not  only  that  which  was  useful  as  food, 
but  also  flowers,  the  bright  consunnnate  llowers  to  clothe  it  in 
beauty  and  joy  ! 

Bring  oiu;  of  the  commonest  field- flowtu's  into  a  room,  ]»lace  it 
on  a  table,  or  chimney-|»iec(%  and  you  seem  to  have  brought  a 
ray  of  sunshine  into  the  place.  Th('r(^  is  a  cheerfulness  about 
tlow(4's.  What  a  delight  are  tlu^y  to  the  drooping  invalid  ! 
They  are  a  sw(M^t  enjoyment,  coming  as  messengeis  fVom  th(^  coun- 
try, and  seeming  to  say,  "  ( "onu^  and  see  the  jdace  wher(«  we 
glow,  and  let  your  heart  be  glad  in  our  presence." 

What  can  be  more  innociMit  than  llowers  I  They  are  like 
chihlren  undimmed  by  sin.  They  are  emblems  of  jiurity  and 
ti'ith,  a  sovn-ce  of  fr(^sh  delight  to  tln^  pun- and  innoc(Mit.  The 
Imart  that  does  not  lov(i  M.)wers,  or  the  voice  of  a  ]»layi'ul  child, 
cannot  be  genial,     it  wiis  a  beautiful  conceit  that  iu\ented  a 


304 


Coiiimoit  Ehjotjniods. 


[chap. 


XV. 


laiiifiiiigo  of  flowers,  by  whicli  lovn-s  were  enabled  to  express  the 

feelings  that  they  dared  not  openly  speak.      But  flowers  have  a 

voice  for  all — old  and  yonng,  rich  and  poor.     "  To  me,"  says 

WonV^worth, 

" 'I'lic  iiicaiu'st  llovvc'i'  tliat  blows,  oaii  jjjive 
TliDiights  that  ilo  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears." 

Have  a  flowta-  in  the  room,  by  all  means  1  It  will  cost  only 
a  penny  if  your  ambition  is  modei-ate  ;  and  the  •♦i-atification  it 
gives  will  ))('  beyond  price.  If  you  can  have  a  flower  for  your 
window,  so  much  the  better.  What  can  be  more  delicious  than 
th(^  sun's  light  stieaming  through  flowers— through  the  midst  of 
crimson  fuchsias  or  scarlet  geraniums  ]  To  look  out  into  the 
liglit  through  flow»3rs — is  not  that  poetry?  And  to  break  the 
force  of  the  sunbeams  by  the  tender  resistence  of  green  leaves  ? 
If  you  can  train  a  nasturtimn  round  the  window,  or  some  sweet- 
pease,  then  you  will  have  the  most  beautiful  fi-ame  you  can  in- 
vent for  the  picturi!  without,  whether  it  be  the  busy  crowd,  or 
a  distant  hiudscajie,  or  trees  with  their  lights  and  shades,  or  the 
changes  of  the  passiug  clouds.  Ajiy  one  may  thus  look  through 
flowers  for  the  price  of  an  old  song.  And  what  pure  taste  and 
reflnement  does  it  not  iudicate  on  the  part  of  the  cultivator  ! 

A  flower  in  tlu;  window  sweetens  the  air,  makes  the  rooui 
look  graceful,  gi^es  the  sun's  light  a  new  charm,  rejoices  the 
eye,  and  links  nature  with  beauty.  The  flower  is  a  companion 
that  will  never  say  a  cross  thing  to  any  one,  but  will  always 
look  beaiitii'ul  and  smiling.  Do  not  desjtise  it  because  it  is 
clieap,  and  because  everybody  may  have  the  luxury  as  well  as 
yourself.  Common  things  are  cheap,  but  common  things  are  in- 
variably the  most  vahiabhi.  Coidd  we  only  have  fresh  air  or 
sunshine  by  purchast^,  Mhat  luxuries  they  would  be  consulored  ! 
But  tliey  are  free  to  all,  and  w(!  think  little  of  their  blessings. 

Tliere  is,  indeed,  much  in  nature  that  we  do  not  yet  half  en- 
joy, because  W(i  shut  our  aven\u'S  of  sensation  and  feeling.  We 
are  aatisfled  with  the  matter  of  fact,  and  look  not  for  the  spirit 
of  fact  which  is  abovt^  it.  If  we  o[)ened  our  minds  to  enjoyment, 
wo  might  find  trancpiil  [)leasures  spread  alxmt  us  on  every  sid(>. 
We  might  live  with  the  angels  that  visit  us  on  every  sunbeam, 
ami  sit  with  the  fairies  who  v.  ait  on  every  flower.     We  want 


<,IIAP.  XV.] 


The  Beautij  of  Art.  . 


30& 


more  loving  knowiedj^-je  to  euable  us  to  enjoy  life,  and  we  re(i\iire 
to  cultivate  the  art  of  making  the  most  of  the  connnon  uu^anH 
and  applianc(^s  for  enjoyment   which  lie  about  us  on  ev(ny  side. 

A  snug  and  a  clean  honu^,  no  matter  how  tiny  it  be.  so  that 
it  br  wholesome  ;  windows  into  which  the  sun  can  shine  cheerily; 
a  few  good  books  (and  who  need  be  without  a  few  good  l^ook* 
in  these  days  of  universal  cheapness  ]) — no  duns  at  the  door, 
and  the  cupboard  well  supplied,  and  with  a  Hower  in  your  room  ' 
There  is  luuie  so  }>oor  as  not  to  have  about  him  these  elements 
of  pleasure. 

i3ut  why  not,  besides  the  beauty  of  nature,  have  a  taste  for 
the  beauty  of  art  \  Why  not  hang  up  a  picture  in  th(^  room  ? 
Ingenious  methods  ha\-e  been  discovered — some  of  them  quite 
recently — for  jvlmost  intinitely  nuiltiplying  works  of  art,  by 
means  of  wood-engravings,  Htogra[)]is,  photograi)hs,  and  auto- 
types, which  r(vnder  it  possilde  for  every  person  to  furnish  his 
rooms  with  beautiful  pictures.  Skill  and  science  have  thus 
l)rought  ai't  within  reach  of  the  [)Oorest. 

Any  picture,  ])rint,  or  engraving  that  I'epresents  a  noble 
thought,  that  (le])icts  a  luH'oic  act,  or  that  brings  a  l)it  of  nature 
from  the  fields  or  the  streets  into  our  room,  is  a  tea(;h(n',  a  means 
of  education,  and  a  h(4[)  to  self-culture.  It  servos  to  make  the 
hom(!  more  pleasant  and  attractive.  It  sweetens  domestic  life, 
and  sIkmIs  a  grac(^  and  beauty  about  it.  It  draws  the  ga/.er 
away  from  mere;  consi<lei'ations  of  self,  and  increases  his  stoii^  of 
delightful  association  with  tlu;  world  without  as  well  as  with 
the  world  within. 

The  portrait  of  a  great  man,  for  instance;,  helps  us  to  read  his 
life.  It  invests  him  with  a  personal  interest.  Ijooking  at  his 
features,  we  feel  as  if  we  kninvhim  liettei',  and  were  more  clos(;ly 
related  to  him.  Such  a  j)ortrait,  hung  up  befon;  us  <laily,  at 
our  meals  and  during  our  leisure  hours,  unconsciously  serves  to 
lift  us  up  and  sustain  us.  It  is  a  link  that  in  some  way  binds 
us  to  a  higluu'  and  nobhu-  nature. 

It  is  said  of  a  ( 'atholic  money-lender  that  when  about  to  cheat, 
he  was  wont  to  draw  a  veil  over  the  face  of  his  favorite  saint. 
Thus  the  portraituj'e  of  a  great  and  virtuous  man  is  in  some 
measui-e  a  comi)anionship  of  something  better  than  ourselves;. 


.306 


Ai'f  at  Home. 


[chap, 


XV 


and  though  we  may  not  reach  the  standard  of  the  liero,  we  may 
to  a  certain  extent  Vje  influenced  by  his  likeness  on  our  walls. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  a  picture  should  be  high-priced  in 
order  to  be  beautiful  and  good.  We  have  seen  things  for  which 
hundreds  of  guineas  have  been  paid  that  have  not  one-hundreth 
pa) -t  of  the  meaning  or  ])eauty  that  is  to  be  found  in  Linton's 
wood-cut  of  liaifaelle's  "  Madonna,"  wliich  may  l)e  had  for  two- 
pence. The  head  reminds  one  of  the  oVjservation  made  by  Haz- 
litt  uj)on  a  picture,  that  it  seems  as  if  an  unhandsome  act  would 
bo  impossil)h?  in  its  })resonce.  It  eml»odies  the  ideas  of  mother's 
lo^•e,  womanly  beauty,  and  earnest  piety.  As  some  one  said  of 
the  picture,  "  it  looks  as  if  a  bit  of  hea\"en  were  in  the  room." 
Picture-fanciers  pay  not  so  much  for  the  merit  as  for  the  age 
and  the  rarity  of  i\\mv  works.  The  poorest  may  have  the  seeivj 
<'!/('  for  beauty,  wliile  the  ricli  man  may  l)o  blind  to  it.  The 
cheapest  engraving  may  communicate  the  sense  of  beauty  to  the 
artizan,  while  the  thousand-guinea  picture  may  fail  to  communi- 
cate to  the  millionaire  anything — excepting,  [)erhaps,  the  notion 
that  he  has  got  possession  of  a  work  which  the  means  of  other 
peo[>i(i  can  Jiot  compass. 

J  )oes  the  picture  give  you  })]easure  on  looking  at  it  I  That  is 
one  good  test  of  its  woi-th.  You  may  grow  tired  of  it  ;  your 
tasio  may  outgrow  it.  and  demand  something  better,  just  as  the 
reader  may  grow  out  of  Moutgomery's  poetry  into  IVIilton's. 
Tlicn  you  will  take  down  the  daub,  and  put  up  a  picture  with  a 
hightu"  idea  in  its  })lace.  There  may  thus  be  a  steady  progress 
of  art  made  u})on  the  loom  walls.  If  the  pictures  can  be  put  in 
frames,  so  much  the  better;  but  if  they  cannot,  no  matter;  u]) 
with  them  !  We  know  that  Owen  Jones  says  it  is  not  good 
taste  to  hang  [vrints  upon  walls  ;  lie  would  merely  hang  room- 
papers  there.  JjUl  owen  Jones  may  not  bo  infallible  ;  and  hei'e 
we  think  he  is  wrong.  To  our  eyes,  a  room  always  looks  un- 
urnished,  no  matter  how  costly  and  numerous  the  tables,  chairs, 
and  ottmans,  unless  there  be  pictures  upon  the  wallls. 

It  ought  to  be,  and  no  doubt  it  is,  a  great  stimulus  to  artists 
to  know  that  their  works  ai'e  now  distributed  in  prints  and 
engravings,  to  decorate  an<l  beautify  tlie  homes  of  the  peoph\ 
The  wood-cutter,  the  lithographer,  and  the  engraver  are  the 


1 


CI.'Al' 


XV.] 


Final  Art  of  Livhuj. 


307 


popular  interpreteis  of  the  great  artist.  Thus  Turner's  pictures 
are  not  continetl  to  the  wealtliy  possessors  of  the  original  works, 
but  ma}"^  be  clifFused  through  all  homes  by  the  Millers,  and 
Brandards,  and  Wilmotts,  who  have  engraved  them.  Thus 
Landseer  finds  entrance,  through  wood-cuts  and  mezzotints,  into 
every  dwelling.  Thus  (Jruikshank  preaches  temperance,  and 
s\xy  Schefier  purity  and  piety.  The  engraver  is  the  medium  by 
which  art  in  the  palace  is  conveyed  into  the  humblest  liomes  in 
the  kingdom. 

The  art  of  living  may  bo  disj)layed  in  many  ways.  It  may 
be  summed  up  in  the  words,  "Make  the  best  of  everything." 
Nothing  is  beneath  its  care  :  even  common  and  little  things  it 
turns  to  account.  It  gives  a  brightness  and  grace  to  the  home, 
and  invests  naturii  with  new  charms.  Through  it  we  enjoy  the 
rich  man's  parks  and  woods,  as  if  they  were  our  own.  We 
inhale  tlie  common  air,  and  bask  under  the  universal  sunshine. 
We  glory  in  the  grass,  the  passing  clouds,  and  the  fiowers.  We 
love  the  common  earth,  and  hear  joyful  voices  thi-ough  all 
nature.  It  extends  to  evei'v  kind  of  social  intercourse.  It  en- 
genders  cheerful  good-will  and  loving  sincerity.  By  its  helj)  we 
make  others  happy,  and  ourselves  blessed.  W^e  elevate  our 
being  and  ennoble  oi  ^  lot.  We  rise  above  the  groveling  creat- 
ures of  earth,  and  aspire  to  the  Infinite.  And  thus  we  link 
time  to  eternity,  where  the  true  art  of  living  has  its  final 
consummation.