The average age at death in the following classes is made out from all the deaths which took place in the Suburban, the Rural, and the Town districts of Sheffield in the three years, 1839, 1840, and 1841:
Gentry, professional persons, and their families |
47.21 |
Tradesmen and their families |
27.18 |
Artisans, Labourers, and their families |
|
A. Employed in different kinds of trade and handicraft common to all places |
21.57 |
B. Employed in the various descriptions of manufacture pursued in Sheffield and its neighbourhood |
19.34 |
Persons whose condition in life is undescribed |
15.04 |
Paupers in the Workhouse |
25.51 |
Farmers and their families |
37.64 |
Agricultural Labourers and their families |
30.89 |
In considering such statistics, the premature death of these poor people is not the saddest thing which presents itself to us, but the unhealthy, ineffectual, uncared-for, uncaring life which is the necessary concommitant of such a rapid rate of mortality.
Since the publication of the preceding Essay, Mr. Pusey’s “Poor in Scotland,” an abstract which has brought the evidence taken before the Scotch Poor Law Commission within short compass, has been published. This evidence is of a nature that cannot be passed by. We may think that such details are wearisome, but we must listen to them, if we would learn the magnitude of the evil. It is no use proceeding without a sufficient substratum of facts. Turning then to this abstract, we find one minister in Edinburgh saying,
“I visited a part of my parish on Friday last, and in all the houses I found persons destitute of food, and completely destitute of fuel; without an article of furniture; without beds or bedding, the inmates lying on straw.”
Another tells the Commissioners,
“the allowance generally made, is not sufficient to keep them (the outdoor pensioners) in existence at the lowest possible rate of living.”
A third says
And a fourth minister mentions that his poor parishioners had stated to him
“that they regarded themselves as outcasts from the sympathy of their fellow-men.”
It also appears from Dr. Alison’s evidence that this distress is increasing. You read of Glasgow, always fruitful in extreme instances of misery, that in one of the private poor-houses, 22 children were found, all afflicted with fever, and occupying a room about fourteen feet square. The Superintendent of the Glasgow Police, speaking of a district in the centre of the town, says
“These places are filled by a population of many thousands of miserable creatures. The houses in which they live are altogether unfit for human beings, and every apartment is filled with a promiscuous crowd of men, women and children, in a state of filth and misery. In many of the houses there is scarcely any ventilation. Dunghills lie in the vicinity of the dwellings, and from the extremely defective sewerage, filth of every kind constantly accumulates.”
Touching the immediate object of the enquiry, the relief of paupers, we find that Humanity having gone with cold and cautious steps (giving 4s. a month, sometimes, to fathers and mothers of families) through the Southern and middle regions of Scotland, becomes in the Highlands nearly petrified: at “the utmost” is only able to divide amongst “the impotent poor about 3s. 6d. a-head for the whole year.” I dare say many things may be urged against this, as against all other evidence—a bit picked off here, another pruned off there—this statement modified, that a little explained. Do what you will: this evidence, like that of the Health of Towns Commission, remains a sad memorial of negligence on the part of the governing and employing classes.
It may be said that the improvidence of the labouring people themselves is a large item in the account of the causes of their distress. I do not contend that it is not, nor even that it is not the largest; and, indeed, it would be very rash to assert that this class has, alone, been innocent of the causes of its own distress. But whatever part of their improvidence is something in addition to the improvidence of ordinary mortals, belongs, I believe, to their want of education and of guidance. It is, therefore, only putting the matter one step further off, to say that their distress is mainly caused by their improvidence, when so much of their improvidence is the fruit of their unguided ignorance. However true it may be, that moral remedies are the most wanted, we must not forget that such remedies can only be worked out by living men; and that it is to the most educated in heart and mind that we must turn first, to elicit and to spread any moral regeneration. Besides, there is a state of physical degradation, not unfrequent in our lowest classes, where, if moral good were sown, it could hardly be expected to grow, or even to maintain its existence.
The extracts given in the foregoing pages present some of the salient points which these new materials afford of the distressed state of the labouring classes. It is a part of the subject requiring to be dwelt upon; for I believe there are many persons in this country who, however cultivated in other respects, are totally unaware of the condition of that first material of a state, the labouring population, aye even of that portion of it within a few streets of their own residences.
Indeed, everybody is likely at some time or other to have great doubts about this distress which is so much talked of. We walk through the metropolis in the midst of activity and splendour: we go into the country and see there a healthful and happy appearance as we pass briskly along: and we naturally think that there must be great exaggeration in what we have heard about the distressed condition of the people. But we forget that Misery is a most shrinking unobtrusive creature. It cowers out of sight. We may walk along the great thoroughfares of life without seeing more than the distorted shadow of it which mendicancy indicates. A little thought, however, will soon bring the matter home to us. It has been remarked of some great town, that there are as many people living there in courts and cellars, or at least in the state of destitution which that mode of life would represent, as the whole adult male population of London, above the rank of labourers, artisans, and tradesmen. Probably we should form the most inadequate estimate of this court and cellar population, even after a long sojourn in the town. Now ponder over the fact. Think of all the persons in London coming within the above description whom you know by sight. Think how small a part that is of the class in question, how you pass by throngs of men in that rank every day without recognizing a single person. Then reflect that a number of people as great as the whole of this class may be found in one town exhausting the dregs of destitution. When we have once appreciated the matter rightly, the difficulty of discerning, from casual inspection, the amount of distress, will only seem to us an additional element of misfortune. We shall perceive in this quiescence and obscurity only another cause of regret and another incitement to exertion.
Having now made ourselves to some extent aware of the distress existing amongst the labouring classes, we will consider the main branches of physical improvement discussed in the Health of Towns Report.
I put this first, being convinced that it is the most essential. It is but recently that any of us have approximated to a right appreciation of the value of pure air. But look for a moment at one of those great forest trees; and then reflect that all that knotted and gnarled bulk has been mainly formed out of air. We, in our gross conceptions, were wont to think that the fatness of the earth was the tree’s chief source of nourishment. But it is not so. In some cases this is almost perceptible to the eye, for we see the towering pine springing from a soil manifestly of the scantiest nutritive power. When we once apprehend how large a constituent part, air is, of bodies inanimate and animate, of our own for instance, we shall be more easily convinced of the danger of living in an impure atmosphere.
And whether it agree with our preconceived notions or not, the evidence on this point is quite conclusive. The volumes of the Health of Towns Report teem with instances of the mischief of insufficient ventilation. It is one body of facts moving in one uniform direction. Dr. Guy noticed that, in a building where there was a communication between the stories, disease increased in regular gradations, floor by floor, as the air was more and more vitiated, the employment of the men being the same. But it is needless to quote instances of what is so evident. With respect to the remedies, these are as simple as the evils to be cured are great. For instance, there was a lodging house in Glasgow where fever resided; “but by making an opening from the top of each room, through a channel of communication to an air pump, common to all the channels, the disease disappeared altogether.” Other modes of ventilation are suggested in the Report; and one very simple device introduced by Mr. Toynbee, a perforated zinc plate fixed in the window-pane furthest from the fire or the bed, has been found of signal benefit. I shall take another opportunity of saying more upon the subject of ventilation. Of all the sanitary remedies, it is the most in our power. And I am inclined to believe that half per cent. of the annual outlay of London, that is ten shillings in every hundred pounds, spent only for one year in improvements connected with ventilation, would diminish the sickness of London by one fourth.
Melancholy as the state of this department is shown to be; destructive annually, I fear, of thousands of lives; it is almost impossible not to be amused at the grotesque absurdity with which it has been managed. One can imagine how Swift might have introduced the subject in Grildrig’s conversations with the King of Brobdingnag. “The King asked me more about our ‘dots’ of houses, as his Majesty was pleased to call them; and how we removed the scum and filth from those little ‘ant-heaps’ which we called great towns. I answered that our custom was to have a long brick tube, which we called a sewer, in the middle of our streets, where we kept a sufficient supply of filth till it fermented, and the foul air was then distributed by gratings at short intervals all over the town. [202] I also told his Majesty, that to superintend these tubes, we chose men not from any particular knowledge of the subject, which was extremely difficult, but impartially, as one may say; and that the opinions of these men were final, and the laws by which they acted irrevocable. I also added that if we had adopted the mode of making these tubes which our philosophers would have recommended, (but that we were a practical people) we might have saved in a few years a quarter of a million of our golden coins. ‘Spangles,’ said His Majesty, who had lately seen me weighing one of the golden likenesses of our beloved Queen against a Brobdingnag spangle that had fallen from the dress of some maid of honour. Spangles or not, I replied, they were very dear to us, dearer than body and soul to some, so that we were wont to say when a man died, that he died ‘worth so much,’ by which we meant so many gold coins or spangles, at which His Majesty laughed heartily. I then went on to tell the King, of our river Thames, that it was wider than His Majesty could stride, that we were very proud of it, and drank from it, and that all these tubes led into it, and their contents were washed to and fro by the tide before the city; and, then, my good Glumdalclitch seeing that I had talked a long time and was much wearied, took me up and put me into my box and carried me away. But not before I had heard the King speak of my dear country in a way which gave me great pain. ‘Insufferable little wretches,’ His Majesty was pleased to say, ‘as foolish when they are living at peace at home as when they are going out to kill other little creatures abroad,’ with more that was like this, and not fit for me to repeat.”
In sober seriousness, this subject of sewerage has been most absurdly neglected. I do not blame any particular class or body of men. Parliament has been repeatedly applied to in the matter, but nothing has been done, as it was a subject of no public interest, though it is probable, if the truth were known, that in those Sessions in which the subject was mooted, there were few questions of equal significance before the House. There are excellent suggestions in the Health of Towns Report for improvement in the original construction of sewers, for their ventilation, for their being flushed, for making the curves at which the side sewers ought to be connected with the main trunks, for a better system of house drainage, respecting which Mr. Dyce Guthrie has given most valuable evidence, for the doing away with unnecessary gully drains, and for conducting all the contents of these sewers, not into our much loved river, but far away from the town, where they can do no mischief, and will be of some use. This is not a simple matter like ventilation; and what is proposed involves large undertakings. Still it is of immense and growing importance, and should be resolutely begun at once, seeing that every day adds to the difficulty which will have to be overcome.
This is an essential part of any large system of sanitary improvement, and one that does not present very great difficulty. The principal facts which I collect from the Report are, that the expense of transmission is inconsiderable, and consequently that we may have water from a distant source; that the plan of constant supply seems to be the best; that this constant supply, under a high pressure, could be thrown over the highest buildings in case of fire, that it could be used for baths, public fountains, and watering and cleansing streets; that it could be supplied at 1d. or 1½d. a week to the houses of the poor, and for this that they might have any quantity they chose to take. At present the labour of bringing water entirely prevents cleanliness in many of the more squalid parts of the town: and the advantage of a constant and unlimited supply would be almost incalculable. There appears to be some difficulty in applying the principle of competition to the supply of water; for the multiplication of water companies has in some instances only produced mischief to the public. I would suggest to the political economist whether there may not be some spheres too limited for competition. But these are questions which I cannot afford at present to dwell upon.
In considering this branch of the subject, the first thing that occurs is the absolute necessity of getting sufficient space to build upon. Other improvements may follow; but almost all of them will be defective, if this primary requisite be wanting. Hence it is of such importance to combat the notion that people must live near their work. It is a great convenience, no doubt. But the question is not of living near their work, but of dying, or being perpetually ill, near it. Mr. Holland has made a calculation from which it appears, that in some parts of the town of Chorlton-upon-Medlock, in a family of five individuals, “there will be on the average about 50 days a year more sickness due to the insalubrity of the dwellings.” To avoid this additional illness, it is surely worth while for working men to live even at a considerable distance from their work. Indeed I think two or three miles is not such a distance as should prevent them. Besides, is it not probable that, in many instances, the work would come to them?
Supposing that new building takes place, whether from the poorer classes tending more to the suburban districts, or from the dense parts of towns being rebuilt, much might be done by modifying, if not repealing, the window tax and the tax on bricks.
With respect to the next point, the laying out of the ground, there are most valuable suggestions given by Mr. Austin in the Health of Towns Report. The result of his evidence is, that the average rental paid now in Snow’s Fields, a place which I have endeavoured to make the reader acquainted with before, would return upwards of 10 per cent. upon money laid out in making a substantial set of buildings to occupy the place of the present hovels; and that these new houses should have “every structural arrangement requisite to render them healthy and comfortable dwellings.” I have only to add on this subject, that it would be of the utmost advantage in any new buildings, and especially for small houses, likely to be built by small capitalists, that there should be a survey made of every town, and its suburbs, with ‘contours of equal altitude.’ [209] As things are managed at present, people building without any reference to a general scale, or any connexion with each other (the non-interference principle carried to its utmost length) the greatest difficulties in the way of sanitary improvement are introduced where there need have been none.
The main branches of sanitary improvement touched upon by the Report are enumerated above. There are, however, some general results and principles which demand our especial attention.
In the first place it seems to be universally true that economy goes hand in hand with sanitary improvement. So beneficently is the physical world constructed, that our labour for sanitary ends is eminently productive. The order of Providence points out that men should live in cleanliness and comfort which we laboriously and expensively contravene. In the Appendix I subjoin a table drawn up by Mr. Clay, showing in detail the saving produced by sanitary measures. I may notice, as bearing on the point of economy, that there is concurrent evidence showing an excessive rate of mortality to be accompanied by excessive reproduction. Consequently, the result of the present defective state of sanitary arrangements is, that a disproportionate number of sickly and helpless persons of all ages, but chiefly children, are thrown upon the state to be provided for. If this were to occur in a small community it would be fatal. In a great state it is not more felt than a calamitous war, or an adverse commercial treaty. But it requires a continued attention as great as that which those more noisy calamities are able to ensure for themselves while they are in immediate agitation.
Secondly, it is stated that the seats of disease are the seats of crime, a result that we should naturally expect.
Again, it appears from many instances that what we are wont to call the improvements in great towns are apt to be attended by an increase of discomfort to the poor. To them, the opening of thoroughfares through densely crowded districts, in the displacement which it creates, is an immediate aggravation of distress. Considering this, ought we not to endeavour that improvements for the rich and the poor should go on simultaneously? It is a hard measure to destroy any considerable quantity of house property appropriated to the working classes, and thereby to raise their rents and densify their population, without making any attempt to supply the vacuum thus created in that market.
It is stated by Dr. Arnott “that nearly half of the accidental illnesses that occur among the lower classes might be prevented by proper public management:” a statement which the general body of evidence, I think, confirms. Now, consider this result. Think what one night of high fever is: then think that numbers around you are nightly suffering this, from causes which the most simple sanitary regulations would obviate at once. When you are wearied with statistical details, vexed with the difficulty of trying to make men do any thing for themselves, disgusted with demagogues playing upon the wretchedness of the poor, then think of some such signal fact as this; and you will cheerfully, again, gird up yourself to fight, as heretofore, against evils which are not to be conquered without many kinds of endurance as well as many forms of endeavour.
I do not wish to raise a senseless moan over human suffering. Pain is to be borne stoutly, nor always looked on with unfriendly eye. But surely we need not create it in this wholesale fashion; and then say that that which is a warning and a penalty, is but wholesome discipline, to be regarded with Mussulman indifference.
I come now to what seems to me the most important result obtained in the whole course of the elaborate evidence taken before the Health of Towns Commission. It appears not only that distress can exist with a high rate of wages, without apparently any fault on the part of the sufferers; [214a] but, actually, that in some instances, there is an increase of sickness with an increase of wages. [214b] The medical officer of the Spitalfields’ District states that the weavers have generally less fever when they are out of work. This statement is confirmed by testimony of a like nature from Paisley, Glasgow, and Manchester. It is one of the most significant facts that has struggled into upper air. We talk of the increase of the wealth of nations—it may be attended by an increase of misery and mortality, and the production of additional thousands of unhealthy, parentless, neglected human beings. It may only lead to a larger growth of human weeds. The explanation of the matter is simple. Dr. Southwood Smith tells us that “Fever is the disease of adolescence and manhood.” Now, wretched as the dwelling houses of the poor are, their places of work are frequently still worse. [215a] Consequently, with an increase of work, there comes an increase of fever from working in ill-ventilated rooms, an increase of poor-rates, [215b] and an especial increase of orphanage and widowhood, as the fever chiefly seizes upon persons in the prime of life. And a large part of this increase is thus distinctly brought home to neglect, or ignorance, on the part of the employers of labour. Surely, as soon as they are made cognizant of this matter, they will at once hasten to correct it. In the appendix to this work there is a letter from Dr. Arnott, giving an account of the causes of defective ventilation, and the remedies for it. We can no longer say that the evil is one which requires more knowledge than we possess to master it. Science, which cannot hitherto be said to have done much for the poor, now comes to render them signal service. It is for us to use the knowledge, thus adapted to our hands, for a purpose which Bacon describes as one of the highest ends of all knowledge, “the relief of man’s estate.” Consider the awful possibility that we may at some future time fully appreciate the results of our doings upon earth. Imagine an employer of labour having before him, in one picture as it were, groups of wretched beings, followed by a still more deteriorated race, with their vices and their sufferings expressed in some material, palpable form—all his own handiwork in it brought out—and at the end, to console him, some heaps of money. If he had but a vision of these things by night, while yet on earth, such an all-embracing vision as comes upon a drowning man! Then imagine him to awake to life. You would not then find that he knew methods of ensuring to his workmen fresh air, but lacked energy, or care, to adventure any thing for them. Talk not to me of money, he would say—Money-making may be one of the conditions of continuance in this matter that I have taken in hand, but on no account the one great object. Indeed, if a man cannot make some good fabric by good means, he would perform a nobler part, as Mr. Carlyle would tell us, in retiring from the contest, and saying at once that the nature of things is too hard for him. He is far, far, better conquered in that way, than obstructing the road by work badly done, or adding to the world’s difficulties by inhumanity.
What I have given is but an outline of the Health of Towns Report; and I would fain persuade my readers to turn to the original itself. Some delight in harrowing tales of fiction: here are scenes indicated, if not absolutely depicted, which may exercise the tenderest sympathies. Others are ever bending over the pages of history: here, in these descriptions of the life of the poor, are sources of information respecting the well-being of nations, which history, much given to tell only of the doings of the great, has been strangely silent upon. For the man of science, for the moral philosopher, or even for the curious observer of the ways of the world, this Report is full of interesting materials. But it is not as a source of pleasurable emotion that our attention should be called to it. It is because without the study of such works, we cannot be sure of doing good in the matter. If there is anything that requires thought and experience, it is the exercise of Charity in such a complicated system as modern life. Indeed, there is scarcely anything to be done wisely in it without knowledge. And I believe it would be better, for instance, that people should read this Health of Towns Report, than that they should subscribe liberally to carrying out even those suggestions which are recommended by men who have thought upon these subjects. There is no end to the quickening power of knowledge; but mere individual, rootless acts of benevolence are soon added up.
There is not the less necessity for this knowledge, because public attention is in some measure awakened to the duties of the employers of labour. I do not know a more alarming sight than a number of people rushing to be benevolent without thought. In any general impulse, there are at least as many thoughtless as wise persons excited by it: the latter may be saved from doing very foolish things by an instinct of sagacity; but for the great mass of mankind, the facts require to be clearly stated and the inferences carefully drawn for them, if they are to be prevented from wasting their benevolent impulses upon foolish or mischievous undertakings.
Certainly, whether built upon sufficient information or not, there is at the present time a strong feeling that something must be done to improve the condition of the labouring classes. The question is, how to direct this feeling—where to urge, where to restrain it; and to what to limit its exertions. An inane desire for originality in such matters is wholly to be discouraged. People must not dislike taking up what others have begun. Of the various modes of improving the sanitary condition of the labouring classes, each has some peculiar claim. Ventilation is so easy, and at the same time so effective, that it seems a pity not to begin at once upon that. Again, structural arrangements connected with the sewerage of great towns are pressing matters, because, like the purchase of the Sybil’s books, you have less for your money, the longer you delay. These two things and the supply of water seem to me the first points to be attacked; but a prudent man will endeavour to fall in with what others are doing, if it coincides with his direction, and he can thereby hasten on, not exactly his own methods, but the main result which he has in hand.
There is one conclusion which most persons who have thought on these subjects seem inclined to come to—namely, that a Department of Public Health is imperatively wanted, as the duties to be performed in this respect are greater than can be thrown upon the Home Secretary. I venture to suggest one or two things which it might be well to consider in the formation of such a Department. It should not be a mere Medical Board under one of the great branches of the Executive; but an entirely independent Department. It will thus have a much firmer voice in Parliament, and elsewhere. Scientific knowledge, as well as legal and medical, should be at its daily command. I lay much stress upon the first, and for this reason. Medical men, who are not especially scientific, are apt, I suspect, to be “shut up in measureless content” with the old ways of going on. Their knowledge becomes stereotyped. And as, in such a Department, the aid of the latest discoveries is wanted, it is better to rely upon those whose especial business it is to be acquainted with them. All departments and institutions are liable to become hardened, and to lose their elasticity. It is particularly desirable that this should be avoided in a Department for the Public Health; and, therefore, great care should be taken in the constitution of it, to ensure sufficient vitality, and admit sufficient variety of opinion, or it would be better to trust to getting each special work done by new hands. The change of political chiefs, a thing frequent enough in modern times, will ensure some of that diversity of mind which is one of the main inducements for lodging power in a Commission or a Board.
It is a great question what authority should be entrusted by this central body to Municipalities or local bodies. They should certainly have the utmost that can discreetly be given to them. It does not do to say that, hitherto, they have been totally blind to their duty in this matter. So have other people been. The great principle of an admixture of centralization with local authority should not be lost sight of without urgent reasons. That any reform should be undertaken in sanitary measures betokens an improved state of moral feeling. The feeling amongst the most influential classes which produces the legislative reform may be expected to go lower down—indeed, the reform has already, in all probability, found some of its most useful supporters in a lower class—and therefore we may expect to find fit persons to work in the lower executive departments. It is not fair to go back and assume that the old state of feeling exists—in fact, that the parchment law is changed, and not the people. This might be so in a despotic government, but not here. It is an oversight, when, in such cases, a general improvement is not calculated upon.
One of the first things that might be attempted in the legislative way is Smoke Prohibition. It is exactly a matter for the interference of the state. The Athenian in the comedy, wearied of war, concludes a separate peace with the enemy for himself, his wife, his children, and his servant; and forthwith raises a jovial stave to Bacchus. Now all sensible people would not only be glad to enter into amicable relations with Smoke, but would even be content to pay a good sum for protection against the incursions from factory chimnies and other nuisances in their neighbourhood. But there is no possibility of making such private treaties. The common undistinguishable air is vitiated: and we ask the State, for the sake of the common weal, to see this matter righted. It has been long before the public; and there is sufficient evidence to legislate at once upon. At any rate, if Mr. Mackinnon’s bill is referred to a Committee, it ought to be upon the understanding that the suggestions of the Committee shall be forthwith and earnestly considered, with a view to instant legislation. If the Committee were to make an excursion into the smoke-manufacturing parts of the Metropolis, they would see here and there factory chimnies from which less smoke issues than from private houses. This seems to be conclusive. They will not find, I think, that these smokeless chimnies belong to unimportant factories. Now, if the nuisance can be cured in one case, why not in all? Here we have new and stately public buildings, in the East and the West of the town, which only a few of us, for a short time, will see in their pristine purity. If we cannot appreciate the mischief which this smoke does to ourselves, let us have some regard for the public buildings. Consider, too, at what an immense outlay we purchase this canopy of smoke. Certainly at hundreds of thousands a year in London alone. We have, therefore, made an investment in smoke of some millions of money. If we had but the resources to spend upon public improvements, which have thus been worse than wasted, we should need no other contribution. Moreover, the proposed restrictions in the case of smoke would not only be beneficial to the public, but profitable to the individual: and the more one considers the subject, the more astonished one is, that they should not long ago have been enacted.
But the truth is, we are quite callous to nuisances. A public prosecutor of nuisances is more wanted than a public prosecutor of crime. And this is one of the things that would naturally come under the supervision of a Department of Health. I find, from the Health of Towns Report, that it is proposed to permit the continuance of sundry noxious trades in London for thirty years, and then they are to be carried on under certain restrictions. It cannot be said that this is selfish legislation: the present generation may inhale its fill of gas and vitriol; but our grandchildren will imbibe “under certain restrictions” only that quantity which is requisite to balance the pleasures of a city life. At Lyons there is a long line of huge stumps of trees bordering on the river. The traveller, naturally enough, supposes that this is the record of some civil commotion; but, on inquiry, he finds that the fumes of an adjacent vitriol manufactory have in their silent way levelled these magnificent trees as completely as if it had been done by the most effective cannonade. If we could but see in some such palpable manner how many human beings are stunted by these nuisances, we should proceed in their expulsion with somewhat of the vigour which it deserves. Imagine, if only for one day, we could enjoy a more than lynx-like faculty, and could see, not merely through rocks, but into air, what an impressive sight it would be in this Metropolis. Here, a heavy layer of carbonic acid gas from our chimnies—there, an uprising of sulphuretted hydrogen from our drains—and the noxious breath of many factories visible in all its varieties of emanation. After one such insight, we should need no more Sanitary Reports to stimulate our exertions. But it is only our want of imagination that prevents us from apprehending now the state of the atmosphere. Science demonstrates the presence of all that I have pictured, and far more.
Great resistance might, perhaps, be made, if large measures were to be taken for the removal of noxious trades from great towns. In many cases, where rapid measures would be harsh and unjust, it would be well worth while for the community to buy the absence of these unpleasant neighbours, resolutely shutting the gates against the incoming of any similar nuisances for the future. On the other hand, mere clamour about the rights of property and the injustice of interference must be firmly resisted. This clamour has been made in all times. Indeed, men seldom raise a more indignant outcry than when they are prevented from doing some injury to their neighbours. How the feudal barons must have chafed, when deprived of the right of hanging in their own baronies: how cruel it doubtless seemed to the monopolists of olden times, when some “factious” House of Commons summoned to its bar the Sir Giles Overreaches, and made them disgorge their plunder; how planters in all climes storm, if you but touch the question of loosening the fetters of their slaves. And so, in these minor matters, when the community, at last awake to its interest, forbids some injurious practice to go on any longer, it is natural that those who have profited by it, and who, blinded by self-interest, still share the former inertness of the public, should find it hard to submit quietly and good-naturedly to have any restrictive regulations put upon their callings. And where the public can smooth this in any way, they ought to do so; not grudging even large outlay, so that the nuisances in question be speedily and effectually removed. The money spent by the community on sanitary purposes is likely to be the most reproductive part of its expenditure, and especially beneficial to the poorer classes who, for the most part, live near these nuisances, and have few means of resisting their noxious influence.
After discussing what might be done by legislation, we come naturally to consider what might be done by Associations for benevolent purposes. However inadequate such Associations may be as an equivalent for individual exertion, there are, doubtless, many occasions on which they may come in most effectively; doing that which individuals can hardly undertake. In London, for instance, an association that would give us an elaborate Survey of the town, would accomplish a most benevolent purpose, and not be in any danger of interfering unwisely with social relations. The same may be said of our other towns, for, I believe, there is not one of them possessing a Survey fit to be used for building and sanitary improvements. Again, there are certain fields at Battersea at present unbuilt upon, close to the river, one of those spots near the metropolis that ought to be secured at once for purposes of public health and amusement: if a Society will do that for us, they will accomplish a noble work. Happily, the necessity for public parks is beginning to be appreciated. These are the fortifications which we should make about our towns. Would that, on every side of the Metropolis, we could see such scenes as this so touchingly described by Goethe.
“Turn round, and from this height look back upon
The town: from its black dungeon gate forth pours,
In thousand parties, the gay multitude,
All happy, all indulging in the sunshine!
All celebrating the Lord’s resurrection,
And in themselves exhibiting, as ’twere
A resurrection too—so changed are they,
So raised above themselves. From chambers damp
Of poor mean houses—from consuming toil
Laborious—from the work-yard and the shop—
From the imprisonment of walls and roofs,
And the oppression of confining streets,
And from the solemn twilight of dim churches—
All are abroad—all happy in the sun.”Anster’s Faust.
Many other excellent enterprises might be suggested which societies are peculiarly fitted to undertake. I must own that I think they are best occupied in such matters as will not require perpetual looking after, which when they are once done are wholly done, such as the formation of a park, the making of a survey, the collection of materials for a legislative measure, and the like. These bodies are called in for an exigency, and we should be able to contemplate a time when their functions will cease; or at least when their main work will be done.
Other limits in their choice of objects might be suggested. For instance, it is desirable that they should address themselves, in preference, to such purposes as may benefit people indirectly; or such as concern the public as a body rather than distressed individuals of the public; or that aim at supplying wants which the people benefited are not likely in the first instance to estimate themselves. Such is the supply of air, light, and the means of cleanliness. There is small danger of corrupting industry by giving any extent of facilities for washing. [233]
While we are on this subject, we must not pass over the societies which have started up in connexion with our immediate object. These “Baths and Washhouses for the Poor” are an admirable charity, obvious to very little of the danger which is apt to threaten benevolent undertakings. It would, however, be a most serious drawback on their utility, if they were to render people indifferent to the much greater scheme of giving a constant supply of water at home. With respect to the building associations for the improvement of the houses of the poor, their efforts, as it seems to me, will be most advantageously directed, not in building houses, but in buying and preparing ground, and letting it out to the individual builder upon conditions compelling the desired structural arrangements. In this way they may immensely extend the sphere of their usefulness. It is not by limiting their profit, and so insisting upon proving their benevolence, but by giving birth to the greatest amount of beneficial exertion on the part of individuals, that they may do most good.
We come now to consider what may be done by individual exertion. Here it is, that by far the largest field is open for endeavour: here, that neglect is most injurious. Many a man who subscribes largely to charities, has created more objects for them, than he has furnished them with means to relieve, if he has neglected but a little his duties as an employer of labour, or an owner of property. This mischief arises from considering charity as something separated from the rest of our transactions; whereas a wise man weaves it in with them, and finds the first exercise for it in matters that grow out of his nearest social relations, as parent, master of a household, employer of labour, and the like.
The more we look into the question, the more weight, I think, we shall attach to individual exertion. Take it in all its branches. Consider the most remarkable impulse ever given to the energies of Europe—the Crusades. It was an aggregate of individual impulses. Every strong and enterprising man felt that it was a matter which concerned his own soul. It was not only that he was to cause something to be done for the great object, but, if possible, he was to do it himself. A Crusade against Misery is called for now; and it will only be carried on successfully by there being many persons who are ready to throw their own life and energy into the enterprise. Mere mercenary aid alone will never do it.
Look, moreover, at what one man can do. A Chatham springs into power, and we are told that down to the lowest depths of office a pulsation is felt which shows that there is a heart once more at the summit of affairs. The distant sentinel walks with a firmer tread on the banks of the Ebro, having heard that the Duke has arrived at head quarters. So, throughout. Every where you find individual energy the sustaining power. See, in public offices, how it is the two or three efficient men who carry on the business. It is when some individuals subscribe largely in time, thought, and energy, to any benevolent association that it is most like to prosper—for then it most resembles one powerful devoted man. The adding up of many men’s indolence will not do. You think, perhaps, listless man of rank or wealth, that your order sustains you. Short time would it do so, but for the worthy individuals who belong to it, and who, at the full length of the lever, are able to sustain a weight which would throw the worthless, weightless men into air in a minute.
In the above cases it has been one man wielding much power; but in the efforts that are wanted to arrest the evils which we have been considering, the humblest amongst us has a large sphere of action. A provident labouring man, for example, is a blessing to his family and to his neighbours; and is thus doing what he best can, to relieve even national distress.
It is a total mistake to bring, as it were, all the misery and misfortune together, and say, now find me a remedy large as the evil, to meet it. Resolve the evil into its original component parts. Imagine that there had been no such thing as the squandering, drinking, absentee Irish landlords we read of in the last generation—do you suppose that we should have as many inhabitants in St. Giles’s, and the Liverpool cellars, to look after now? So, with the English landlords and manufacturers of that time, see what a subtraction from the general mass of difficult material there would have been, if those men had done their duty. But you will say we are still talking of bodies. Imagine, then, that during the last generation there had been the energetic efforts of individuals in these bodies, that there are now, directed to the welfare of the people under them. It would, no doubt, have been a great easement of the present difficulty. Any body who does his duty to his dependents keeps a certain number out of the vortex; and his example is nearly sure to be followed, if he acts in an inoffensive, modest fashion. Dr. Arnott has shown what great things may be done in the way of ventilation by individual employers. See what benefit would arise if only some few builders, taking to heart the present miserable accommodation for the poor, which few know better than they do, would, in their building enterprises, speculate also in houses of the smaller kind, and take a pride in doing the utmost for them.
One might easily multiply instances where individual exertion would come in; but each man must in some measure find out the fit sphere of action for him. “The Statesman” tells us that the real wealth of a state is the number of “serviceable” minds in it. The object of a good citizen should be to make himself part of this wealth. Let him aid where he can in benevolent associations, if well assured of their utility, and at the same time mindful of the duty of private endeavour; but do not let him think that he is to wait for the State’s interference, or for co-operation of any kind. I do not say that such aids are to be despised, but that they are not to be waited for, and that the means of social improvement are in every body’s hands. For warfare, men are formed in masses, and scientific arrangement is the soul of their proceedings. But industrial conquests and, especially, the conquests of benevolence, are often made, here somewhat and there somewhat, individual effort struggling up in a thousand free ways.