Passages of a Working Life during Half a Century
Chapter XIV
L’Envoy.
“Why, then, a final note prolong
Or lengthen out a closing song,
Unless to bid the gentles speed,
“Who long have listed to my rede?”
|
Moth. Is not L’envoy a Salve?
Armado. No, Page. It is an
epilogue, or discourse to make plain
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.”
|
CHAPTER XIV.
AFTER an absence of nearly thirty years, I have come again to
dwell at Hampstead. There are here, as everywhere else in the suburbs of London, houses
innumerable, where there were once green pastures. But the old village, and the old heath,
are little changed, since Henry Brooke made them the
scene of his “Fool of
Quality;” since Fanny Burney took Evelina to the Assembly at “The
Long Room;” and since George Steevens, the
mischievous “Puck” of black letter, had the
happiness to live here in his bachelor-quiet, unvexed by legions of donkey-drivers. During
my residence at Hampstead from 1830 to 1835, I was a hard-worker; but I was not so
indefatigable a corrector of proofs as Steevens,
“Whom late, from Hampstead journeying to his book, Aurora oft for Cephalus mistook, What time he brush’d her dews with hasty pace, To meet the printer’s dev’let face to face.”* |
Those five years of my residence here were the great turning-point of our modern
history. Hampstead is not greatly changed; but what a change has come over England since
the days of George the Fourth!
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Let me endeavour to take a coup
d’oeil of those moral causes which have
created an era so essentially different from its predecessor.
In 1783, Charles Fox propounded in
Parliament a doctrine which could then scarcely be called practical: “What is the
end of all government? Certainly, the happiness of the governed.” He
added—“Others may hold different opinions; but this is mine, and I proclaim
it.”* In the early part of the next half century, Bentham’s axiom, that “the greatest happiness for the
greatest number” is the true object of all legislation, was a text for
speakers and writers who were a little before their age. This was an idea—as certain to
influence the future of society as the idea of liberty or the idea of equality. But the
English, it is said, are slow to adopt ideas. Step by step the principle of the happiness
of the governed made a slow and timid advance. It is faintly to be traced in the slight
mitigations of the sanguinary criminal code by Romilly, and the insertion of the wedge into the old barrier of Protection
by Huskisson. But the idea never got completely hold
of the national mind, as the rule of public and private conduct towards “the
greatest number,” till the times which followed the bloodless revolution of
1832. I will attempt, in this retrospective chapter, to consider the various modes in which
the idea has worked, in changing many of the former relations of our social life. Such
changes in the condition of the people essentially belong to the science of politics. But
with politics, in the ordinary sense of the term, I have no intention of meddling.
* Speech on the East India
Bill.
|
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THE THIRD EPOCH. |
297 |
It is scarcely forty years since that, in my rambles around Windsor, I was
often deterred from striking into a by-path by the announcement—“Steel-traps and
spring-guns are set in these preserves.” I had no desire to trespass on the
sacred places in which the hare and the pheasant were enshrined. I sometimes thought of
Quentin Durward and of the thickets of
Plessis-les-Tours “surrounded with every species of hidden pitfall, snare, and gin
to entrap the wretch who should venture thither without a guide.” The spirit
of the fifteenth century seemed, in this one characteristic, to have survived in the
nineteenth—the spirit of small respect for human life. It may in the present day be
scarcely deemed credible, that in 1820, the Chief-Justice of the King’s Bench to a
certain extent justified the practice of setting spring-guns, by using the following words:
“I cannot say that repeated and increasing acts of aggression may not
reasonably call for increased means of defence and protection.” He thought
that no person, having notice given him, would be weak and foolish enough to expose himself
to the perilous consequences of his trespass. Lord
Suffield, who was mainly instrumental in procuring, in 1827, the abolition
of this barbarous remnant of the feudal unconcern for the safety of life and limb, told a
story in Parliament, which probably had as much effect in procuring this result, as if he
had circumstantially related the injuries inflicted by these engines upon a dozen peasants
or yeomen. “I have heard,” he said, “of a judge on the circuit,
who not very long ago wishing to take air and exercise before the business in court
commenced, or after it had concluded, was on the point of entering a wood where he
would almost inevitably
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have been shot, had he not received
accidental intimation that spring-guns were set there.”
I have selected this instance of the extravagant notions which once
prevailed as to the rights of property, to point to one of the main causes of the
alienation of classes, which, more than any other cause, prevented the general reception of
the idea, that to promote the happiness of the greatest number was the duty of all, and
especially of the rich and powerful. The true rights of property have not been weakened
because public opinion utters the most decisive “No” when a great man
asks “May I not do what I like with my own?”
That interpretation of the rights of property, which admits the majority
into a moral partnership with the minority, was the foundation of all the first great
political changes that have given a new character to the present age. This interpretation
gave us the Reform Bill, which swept away the vested interests in Nomination Boroughs.
Corporation Reform took away the administration of large funds from self-elected and
irresponsible bodies, to place them in the hands of those who would account to their
fellow-citizens for their righteous employment for the public good. The abolition of the
Corn Laws destroyed the tenacious hold of the landed interest upon their prescriptive claim
to tax the food of the community, in the mistaken belief that dear corn and good rents were
necessarily associated, and that the power of the rich to expend largely was the main
support of the industrious, and the essential condition of the welfare of the poor. The
overthrow of Negro Slavery in our West India Colonies recognized the principle that no
rights of property could be main-
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 299 |
tained which were based upon
injustice as between man and man. These changes were essentially revolutionary, but
different from all other revolutions in bringing with them no civil war; no damage to the
throne and the altar; no subversion of an ancient aristocracy; no abatement of the proper
influence of the modern capitalist. I pass them by, to proceed to those social improvements
which have grown out of them, evidencing the altered spirit in which we have come to regard
“the greatest number.”
And first let me glance at those Fiscal changes which, one after another,
have lightened the pressure of indirect taxation upon articles of necessity, and have thus
not only lessened the cost of food, of clothing, of dwellings, of furniture, by the entire
abolition or reduction of Customs and Excise duties, but have left industry free to do its
proper work without supervision and restriction. In my “Companion to the Almanac” I shall find the
necessary data for tracing the course of administrative and financial improvements, and all
the other results of a principle of legislation which alone can maintain the harmony of a
State:—
“For Government, through high, and low, and lower, Put into parts, doth keep in one concent; Congreeing in a full and natural close, Like music.” |
This is “the harmonic power of political justice,” which Shakspere, by some means, derived from Plato.*
In 1820, the “Edinburgh
Review,” in an elaborate
300 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
article on “Taxation and the Corn Laws,” used these emphatic words: “It is
no exaggeration to affirm, that, with the solitary exception of water, there is not a
single necessary consumed in the empire which is not, directly or indirectly, loaded
with a most oppressive impost.” There was one impost upon an article of prime
necessity which first called upon the Legislature to listen to the general expressed public
opinion. The Salt Duty was fifteen shillings a bushel—a tax equal to
thirty times the cost of the salt. The revenue produced by this impost amounted to a
million and a half; in spite of an immense amount of evasion and smuggling, which no
penalties of fine or imprisonment could put down. In 1825 the tax was wholly repealed,
having been previously reduced. There were at that time many political optimists who would
exclaim—How is the repeal of this tax to improve the condition of the labouring classes? In
the labourer’s household there is not a bushel of salt consumed in a whole year!
There was amongst such reasoners a belief in a charming paradox—that government was a
beneficent power, which followed the analogy of nature. As the evaporation of the
earth’s surface was returned to it in refreshing showers and fertilizing dews, so the
produce of taxes was always beneficially expended by the State for the universal good.
History was rather against the theory, as applicable to the Salt Tax; for it told that the
Gabelle—the salt code of France—had something to do in bringing about the Revolution.
It was several years before the British Parliament began again to bestir
itself, in the repeal or mitigation of the multifarious taxes on necessaries which
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 301 |
few could affirm did not interfere with the happiness of the
greatest number. Let me attempt a slight sketch of the position of an artisan and his
family, from 1830 to 1864.
Thomas Cleave is the jobbing carpenter and builder of a
small village—such a neglected and impoverished place as I have described as Combe in this
volume (chap, iv., p. 70). He has succeeded to the cottage, the workshop, and the tools of
his father. He marries a careful and industrious young woman; and he thrives in his humble
way. By uniting the wages of his own labour, and the profits of his small stock, he
contrives to live without any severe privations. There is very little new building going
forward in Combe; for all building materials are extremely dear, through the operation of
enormous duties upon timber, upon bricks, upon glass. His own cottage, though once
tolerably comfortable, has been rendered dark and dismal by the heavy window tax; for half
of the old casements which, before the war, permitted his parents to enjoy the fresh air
and the bright sunshine, have been displaced by solid brickwork. His engagements sometimes
compel him to work at night; but he always lights an extra candle grudgingly. His wife
mends her children’s stockings by the thinnest bit of tallow in the chandler’s
shop; and she is not particularly anxious that they should have clean linen, or even clean
faces, for soap is extravagantly dear. The soap and the candle are held by the exciseman as
two of the supporters of his administrative function; for he is always sealing-up and
unsealing, locking-up and unlocking, the cauldrons and the utensils which the soap-boiler
and the candle-maker require. In that household there must
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be not
only rigid economy, but a great deal of pinching self-denial. I have adverted to the
narrative of Christopher Thomson, who left off sugar
in his tea that he might buy the “Penny
Magazine” (vol. ii., p. 183). In 1829, Mr.
Huskisson, in the House of Commons, expressed his belief that, in
consequence of the enormous duty, the poor working man with a large family was denied the
use of sugar; and that two-thirds of the poorer consumers of coffee drank that beverage
without sugar. The duty upon foreign sugar then amounted to a prohibition; the duty upon
sugar from our colonies was about 3d. per lb. The tax upon tea was
an ad-valorem duty amounting to 200 per cent. In 1834 it was reduced to
fixed duties averaging about 2s. 6d. the lb.
Tea and sugar were thus only unusual luxuries for a poor family thirty years ago. Beer was
the Englishman’s favourite beverage—the national drink, as he believed, which gave
him strength and health. There was some reason in the belief; but when beer was about
double its present price, the workman was compelled to moderation, if he did his duty to
his family. Spirits and tobacco I pass by. They are not necessaries of life.
“By taxes innumerable, imposed immediately and through every
medium by which man is assailable, an universal poverty is created in the midst of
affluence.” It is curious that this lament should occur in an article on
“The Drama.” The argument
of the Reviewer is—that the heavy taxation of that
time “deprived the people of the enjoyment of the theatre.” To those who
upon principle opposed all popular amusements, especially theatrical, this instance of the
effects of taxation would go for nothing.
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 303 |
They would rejoice in
this, as they would regret that another manifestation of the benefits of taxation had
fallen into disuse. A few years only had elapsed since the Barons of the Exchequer had
solemnly decided that the scenes of the theatre, being painted canvas, were precisely the
same as floor-cloth, and were liable to the same heavy duty. The exciseman measuring and
calculating must have been a singular intruder at a rehearsal. This is one instance,
amongst many, of the extreme sharpness with which the revenue laws were pressed into
interpretations which had slight regard to their original intent and meaning. This official
vigilance, which involved a good deal of oppression, gradually became relaxed as new ideas
upon the subject of taxation were entertained in high places. It was at length discovered
that the productiveness of a tax is not in proportion to a maximum rate. Then came, with
the knowledge of this truth, the conviction that every tax which put the necessaries and
comforts of life beyond the reach of the bulk of the people, had a tendency to degrade them
in their habits and make them disloyal in their opinions. The security of the government
was a necessary corollary of the happiness of the governed.
My imaginary Thomas Cleave has
struggled on through thirty or forty years to maintain a decent position. He has educated
his children, and has put them in a way to earn their own living. His condition during the
last twenty years has been steadily improving, The great article of household consumption,
bread, is about half the price it was before the repeal of the laws on the importation of
corn. He has two stalwart sons working with him, at an increasing
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business. There are the homesteads of the farmers to alter and improve. The land
proprietors are building snug cottages in the place of the old hovels. He can do the work
cheaply, and more as a skilled workman at a better profit, now the excessive taxes on
building materials are taken away. He has opened the blocked-up windows of his old home,
for there is no longer a window tax. His good dame does not think it necessary now to
practise any severe stint in soap or candles. She can, though not very often, treat herself
with a neat new gown, for printed cottons are no longer taxed. The afternoon tea is
stronger than of old, and there is no lack of sugar for those who desire it. The good man
has bought some useful and amusing books, and he does not begrudge himself a weekly
newspaper. There was a time when he could not afford to receive letters from relations at a
distance, or to write letters. Once or twice a year he took a long walk to the mansion of
the county member, to see if the butler could obtain for him a frank, to send to his
brother in Yorkshire. Penny Postage has settled that difficulty.
In the midst of the Reform agitation of 1831, Cholera Morbus first made
its appearance in England. I have described some of the aspects of that time, in which the
most equal minds could scarcely control their fears in presence of a strange visitation.
The panic of some, however, led them to adopt the belief that their safety would depend
upon their entire isolation from the rest of the community. In some households, a terror
had been incited by the apprehension that domestics should be forbidden “to
communicate with any one out-of-doors,” and that “all supplies of
food must be received from the police
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 305 |
purveyors.”*
Elaborate calculations were accordingly made for victualling the mansion or the villa
during quarantine, with such a supply of bacon or flour as would dispense with the butcher
and the baker. These extravagant fears and precautions would have been simply ludicrous, if
the temporary preponderance of the feeling of indifference, or something worse, through
which the Levite “passed by on the other side,” had not inspired grave
apprehensions of the tendencies of increasing national wealth to make the prosperous
selfish. But out of this calamity of the Cholera arose a new object of Legislation, the
care of the Public Health; and with sanitary laws came the conviction that Legislation
would be inefficient without private exertions of incessant vigilance, and incomplete
without that personal sympathy with the needy, and that compassion for the ignorant, which
are worth more than any amount of money-giving.
The middle-class inhabitants of English towns, under their old municipal
and other local institutions, were careful to preserve some outward manifestations of a
regard for cleanliness, and a consequent solicitude for the public health. I take
Stratford-upon-Avon as an example—a town subject to frequent visitations of the plague. In
1552, John Shakspere, the father of the poet, and
other inhabitants of Henley Street, were fined for making a dung-heap in the road. In 1558,
several of the same persons were amerced for not keeping their gutters clean. The Court
Rolls exhibit a similar regard for the public health in other instances. The butchers are
to carry
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forth their garbage after the hour of nine in the afternoon, and no
householder is to receive a stranger to lodge for a night, without a special licence from
the bailiff. Here then, three centuries ago, we find an anticipation of the Nuisances
Removal Act of 1845, and the Common Lodging House Act of 1851. But during the long
interval, the powers of Courts-Leet and of Bailiffs had fallen into disuse. In 1849, when a
Report upon the sanitary condition of this town was published, it was alleged that the rate
of mortality was unusually high, and was distinctly traceable to want of drainage,
imperfect water supply, roads ill-paved or unpaved, foul open cesspools, and other
abominations—all showing how little civilisation had advanced since the time when
John Shakspere was fined for making a dung-heap before his door.
But Stratford-upon-Avon was not a solitary case of neglect. Nearly all the country towns of
England were as full of nuisances as I remember my native town of Windsor. The only
indication of the presence of some authority, capable of preventing any encroachment upon
public decency and comfort, was to be seen on an old painted board in the market-place,
announcing that whoever laid any “dirt, filth, or rubbish” in the
streets, would be proceeded against according to law. What the law was, few could tell, and
none cared to know. At any rate, the law did not authorise any inspection of nuisances
within the dwellings where the poor congregated, with pestiferous ditches all around them;
nor was any care taken for a domestic provision of water by equable rating. There was a
public pump or two, and there was the Thames. Water was an expensive luxury, even in the
better houses. The old Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 307 |
water-mill below Windsor Bridge was the
private property of an honest but eccentric plumber, who sometimes neglected to call for
his charge during several years, and then, if there was any demur to paying the formidable
arrear, would have no hesitation in threatening to cut off the supply. When I look at the
altered state of things at the period at which I am writing, I could almost doubt the
evidence, presented by the dates of ten or more Acts of Parliament, that the sanitary
legislation which has called into action the useful labours of more than four hundred
Boards of Health, and of the same number of Burial Boards, has not the recommendation of a
higher antiquity than that of half a generation. We owe this legislation principally to two
men, who will perhaps receive more ungrudging honour in another age than has been bestowed
upon them in their own. The one is Dr. Southwood
Smith, who has been called “the father of sanitary
reform;” for to him we are indebted for the discovery of a truth which has come
upon us like a new light. It was formerly held that poverty and disease are inseparable.
Dr. Southwood Smith proved, some six-and-thirty years ago, that
the high rate of mortality observed to prevail amongst the poorer population, did not
necessarily attach to poverty itself, but was to be traced to the circumstances by which
the poor are ordinarily surrounded in their dwellings. His worthy fellow-labourer was
Edwin Chadwick. Ten years ago, the Earl of Carlisle, in speaking of Mr.
Chadwick’s labours in connection with the Poor Law and Sanitary
Reform, alluded to a circumstance which had diminished the temporary popularity of many
enthusiastic men—“a certain portion of posi-308 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
tiveness and
precipitation.” Two years afterwards, I expressed my opinion upon this
implied objection to Mr. Chadwick’s administrative zeal. I
repeat it now, for a friendship of thirty years ought not to interfere with the declaration
of an honest conviction. “The ‘positiveness and precipitation’ which
are thus conceded to a passing clamour, as a set-off against contemporary gratitude,
have belonged, more or less, to every man whose earnestness has had to struggle with
official indifference and procrastination. Mr. Chadwick came from
the people. He was not, as Burke said of
himself, ‘swaddled, and nursed, and dandled into a legislator;’ and he had
to encounter the bitterest hatred of men whose principle was to do nothing till they
were forced, and then to do as little as possible. Many of the sanitary measures also
with which Mr. Chadwick was connected disturbed various large
interests; and he had thus the common fate of all social reformers who are more anxious
to enunciate unwelcome truths than careful to conciliate the supporters of profitable
errors.”
There is probably no such striking example of the rapidity with which an
entirely new code of laws has been received into the public mind, and successfully
established in defiance of local and personal interests, as that exhibited by the Sanitary
Legislation of the last twenty years. Statutes, however, would have been passed in vain,
had not the facts and principles, upon which they were based, been driven into the popular
understanding by men such as those I have mentioned, who. despite of vested interests and
deeprooted prejudices, were bent upon advancing the welfare of the greatest number, by
attacking some of the causes of disease and destitution in their strong-
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 309 |
holds and privileged hiding-places. To cleanse the Augean stables of
London and of four or five hundred provincial towns, was a labour that Hercules might have shrunk from; for Hercules did his work by strength of muscle, whilst the sanitary reformers
applied themselves to their task with the power of reason and the experience of science.
Wherever we go, the results are visible, except to those who have eyes and no eyes. In
1842, Mr. Chadwick published his Report on
Interments. Ten years before this Report called attention to a general evil, the Kensal
Green Cemetery had been established by a Joint-Stock Company. The example was quickly
followed at Norwood, at Highgate, and other suburban districts. But these receptacles in
which “the sculptur’d urn and monumental bust” were carefully
preserved amidst flowery walks and unsullied turf, were for the rich. Horrible grave-yards,
revolting to the senses, were to be found in populous places that in the last generation
were verdant fields, and in the narrow streets and courts of the City, where its hundred
churches seemed to have little use beyond that of gathering in and around them the means of
swift destruction to the living. Thirty years ago, there was a sight in St. Bride’s
church-yard, which often took me out of my rapid course along Fleet Street to look upon. A
dog had followed his master to the grave and had remained there for several years, fed
indeed by the neighbours, but never straying beyond the gates, which were constantly open.
His master’s grave was not a solitary one. Year after year the mounds in this
church-yard had gone on increasing till the Cholera came in 1855. The back warehouses of my
place of business in Fleet 310 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
Street looked upon this pestilential
spot. I became ill, as were others of my establishment. This gloomy and dangerous area has
now been partially closed, and so have nearly all the old burial-places of the metropolis.
It is in the interest of the greatest number that they have been closed. For the
enforcement and preservation of these general interests, eight statutes have been passed
during the last twelve years, which give a power to Burial-Boards to close existing grounds
and form new ones, and to keep the closed burial-places in proper order. It would have been
impossible that this portion of our sanitary laws should have been worked out by the people
themselves, at a large expense and often in opposition to personal feeling, had not the
supreme principle of a great public good been paramount to all other considerations.
The carrying out of the Public Health Acts, in their various
ramifications, has entirely depended upon the decisions of those who had to sustain the
expense. The Local Boards of Health knew well that they must encounter very heavy expenses.
The report of a surveyor was a preliminary step, for the consideration of a community
whether it would resolutely encounter the addition of a considerable burden to the direct
parochial rates, or go on under the old system of indirect taxation in the shape of
lingering or acute disease, premature death, the destitution of families. Upon purely
economical principles, the decision was right when a community decided that it was cheaper
to encounter the direct taxation involved in an ample supply of pure water; in drainage; in
paving and surface cleansing; in providing public baths and washhouses; and in esta-
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 311 |
blishing parks and pleasure grounds. I have before me some of the
able Reports, so convincing in their practical view of great evils, that the English common
sense began quickly to see that the best course was to pay the cost of the necessary
remedies. Let me glance at a few of the instances that have come within my own observation.
To the Watering-places on every coast the idle and the busy resort in the
pursuit of health. Than some of these twenty years ago, there were no fouler or more
pestilential places. I was a summer visitor, with my family, a little before a fatal
epidemic made the pretty little town of Sandgate a Golgotha. The official survey of 1849
showed that there was no system of sewerage, that drains discharged upon the beach, that
there was no scavengering, that the atmosphere was vitiated by animal and vegetable matter
in a state of decay, that nearly all the walls were polluted. Truly a pleasant spot for a
summer holiday! Hyde was pronounced to have no proper supply of pure water, and the
sewerage and drainage were both inefficient. There was scarcely a place to which invalids
resort that was not more or less defective in all the great conditions of healthful
existence. If these places of luxury were abandoned to ignorance and neglect, what would be
the case with great ports, such as Bristol, Portsmouth, and Plymouth? But the evils in such
communities were small, compared with the practices and miseries of a great mining and
manufacturing population, such as that of Merthyr Tydfil. The fortunate dwellers in houses
where there is a full and constant supply of water from public works scarcely know the
value of this great blessing. Bad drainage was a common evil; but here the cot-
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tages of the thousands of workmen could only be supplied from the
distant springs—not by machinery, not from conduits, but by the personal labour of the poor
female drudges of every household. The following description by a clergyman of the district
seems to carry us back to past ages of uncivilization:—
“During winter there are from six to eight spouts, some half a
mile, some a mile, distant from the houses, but in summer they are often reduced to
three, the remainder being dried up. At these water-spouts (“pyshtylls” as
they call it in Welsh) I have seen fifty, eighty, and as many as a hundred people
waiting for their turn; the rule is that each should be supplied according to the time
of arriving. The women have told me they have waited six, eight, and ten hours at a
time, for their turn; and some then obliged to go away without any water at all. They
have been known to wait up the whole of the night. In the case of women having a young
family, they are left at home at these times to take care of themselves. Instances have
occurred of children being burned to death while their mothers are waiting at the
spouts. They have no other supply of water whatever fit to drink in summer time, and
have no alternative but to wait.” Surely it was time that something should
have been done for “the happiness of the greatest number.”
It was in large towns that the “Public Health Act” of 1848
had been chiefly working for ten years. In 1858, the “Local Government Act” was
passed. The previous General Board of Health had been assailed by the old cry against
centralisation, which was often a pretence for doing nothing. One of the ablest officers
under the new Act was Mr. Henry Austin, Inspector.
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 313 |
His death was a great loss, not only on account of his
professional experience, but from his capacity of taking a broad view of the
responsibilities of all engaged in the great social duties involved in the care of the
public health. In 1858, he wrote, at my request, a very able article upon the results of
sanitary legislation in England, which thus concludes: “The initiation of
practical measures of local improvement is made entirely a local concern under the new
Local Government Act. By that Act the powers of local authorities are materially
extended, and their responsibilities are correspondingly increased. It remains with
themselves to determine how long they will reject the blessings and advantages held out
to them,—how long they will remain satisfied with the extravagance and misery of
neglect,—how long blindly refuse to join in the onward march of civilization, social
comfort, and prosperity.” (“Companion to Almanac”—1859.) The official administration of this Act and
of a subsequent amended Act was entrusted to Mr. Tom Taylor as
Secretary. A brilliant writer of wide reputation, he is one of the numerous examples, that
the possession of genius and scholarship does not disqualify a man for the steady exercise
of administrative functions. The prejudices of modern times have run counter to this
opinion, but they are gradually yielding to the conviction, that the knowledge and energy
which conduct to distinction in one walk, may be very safely trusted to prevent failure in
another sphere of exertion.
The personal sympathy with the needy, and compassion for the ignorant,
without which Sanitary Legislation would be incomplete, have not been want-
314 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
ing. I have visited many towns where Boards of Health had been
established, or were attempted to be established. Seven years ago, when public opinion was
often fluctuating between apprehensions of the cost of remedial measures and convictions of
their necessity, I saw much of the popular feeling upon this question, in the West of
England. Amidst a good deal of apathy and indifference, even in the members of Local
Boards, I met with much earnestness and some enthusiasm. But the earnest and the
enthusiastic were those who had not been afraid of entering the dwellings of the poor. Such
would see how much their privations were increased by their own neglect of the means of
healthful existence, in spite of mercenary landlords, and careless town councils. After the
command of pure water was placed within their reach, and their houses drained; after the
nuisances collected around their doors were abated; they had to learn many lessons which
were untaught amidst the dirt and disease of their earlier years. For this teaching there
were none so fit as women addressing themselves to women. The various modes in which,
whether in the seclusion of the hamlet, or the dark places of the city, ladies have become
ministering angels, wherever there is want or suffering, is a characteristic of our times
in which we may well rejoice. Foremost amongst their good deeds are their labours in the
Education of the Young; but the Diffusion of Sanitary Knowledge has opened a new field for
their exertions. The “Ladies’ Sanitary Association” has printed a series
of Tracts, in which all the great principles of health-preservation are set forth with
accurate knowledge and admirable clearness. But it aims at something more than Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 315 |
tract-distributing. In an Address read at Bradford by the lady
Secretary of this Association, there are these sensible words: “Our chief reliance
must be on oral and practical teaching, and personal influences. In all organizations
for visiting the poor, arrangements should be made for giving this practical
instruction, and for bringing the influence of the visitors to bear upon the physical
as well as the spiritual condition of the people. The latter, preeminently important
though it is, certainly should not be so exclusively the object of attention, as it too
often is, in the existing organizations for assisting the poor.”*
If, in looking back at the state of the public health thirty years ago,
we may exclaim, with a reasonable pride, “Are we not improved?” we may
equally rejoice that at the same period a spirit was awakened which put an end to the
horrible neglect, and the severe treatment, of lunatics. There were not many counties in
which there were asylums. There were private establishments, rarely subjected to any
efficient supervision, in which insane persons were kept, at a heavy expense. But the
pauper lunatic, or idiot, was either shut up in some dark room of the parish workhouse, or
left to the unsafe custody of his relations. Bethlem (or Bedlam, as it was called) was the
one asylum familiar to the popular mind; and this, for a long series of years, had always
been associated with the scenes in Hogarth’s
“Rake’s Progress,” in which idle spectators
are represented as looking into the cages where “moody madness” sits
desolate, or gazing with fear upon the frenzy of the naked
316 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
wretch, chained to the floor, who is tearing his own flesh.
Dr. Trusler, who “moralizes” upon
Hogarth, exclaims, “Was it not for this charitable
institution, what dreadful consequences would ensue!” The scandal of
permitting the wretched patients of Bethlem to be made a show of, was put an end to; and
then came a greater scandal, in the absence of publicity. The secrets of this
“prison-house”—a royal institution, supported by ample endowments—were
perfectly appalling, as appeared in evidence before a Parliamentary Committee. It has
become a model of humane and rational treatment of this heaviest of human evils. There are
now more than forty county asylums, and about twenty hospitals, where restraint, even of
the gentlest kind, is the exception to the general practice; where the poor creatures are
kept happy by exercise and employment; where they are not wholly cut off from their sense
of responsibility as intelligent beings. The private asylums are under strict inspection;
and the high character of the medical and legal Commissioners is a guarantee that the old
frauds and abuses no longer exist, except in the inventions of the novelist.
The contrast between our present penal laws, and those of half a century
ago, is one of the most striking examples of the altered aspect of the age. The Criminal
Code was one of tremendous severity. Death was the penalty of a hundred and fifty crimes.
Minor offences were attempted to be repressed with proportionate severity. The highest
penalty was indeed rarely inflicted, in comparison with the number of capital convictions;
but the substitute was transportation. The offender was got rid of, and little heed was
taken of the crimes and miseries that trans-
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 317 |
portation involved. At
last, public opinion was outraged by the rigours of the Criminal Code. Humanity was equally
shocked by the certainty that the prisons throughout the land were nurseries of crime; that
every convict left the filthy and ill-regulated den in which he had been shut up, a more
hardened outcast of society than when he entered its walls. Prison Inspectors were
appointed. The grosser evils were removed. Various systems of discipline were resorted to,
in which mildness was the general rule. The felon, then, not only fared better than the
pauper, but far more luxuriously than many a labourer who maintained his independence.
Transportation became impracticable, and the sentence of penal servitude was adopted in the
place of banishment to Colonies, where the presence of the depredator had become odious.
After a half-century of experiments, our Convict System has, in a great degree, resolved
itself into the assertion of principles, which are thus described by one who has done as
much as any man for the solution of the most difficult problem that true philanthropy has
ever had to decide upon. Matthew Davenport Hill, in a
paper read at York, in September, 1864, before the National Association for the Promotion
of Social Science, thus recorded the triumph which he had lived to see, after years of
labour and conflict. My friend has his best reward: “The passing of the new Penal
Servitude Act is an event which I trust will form an epoch in the history of our
jurisprudence. The treatment of criminals with the unswerving purpose
of reforming them, deviating neither into indulgence on the one hand, nor into
unnecessary harshness on the other; their supervision after discharge, to protect the
public 318 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
against the danger of their relapse, to protect
themselves against unjust suspicion and consequent persecution, and also to afford them
some aid in obtaining employment, under the all but overwhelming disadvantages
attending their return to society: these, I rejoice to say, are now the accepted
principles of our jurisprudence, applicable in greater or less degree to all but
capital cases; and I look upon the Penal Servitude Act of the last session as having
secured them from vicissitude.”
The treatment of criminals, “with the unswerving purpose of
reforming them,” was long considered one of the Utopian visions of the
benevolent. There were natural mistakes committed in the endeavour to realize this idea.
Amongst others, was that of making “good conduct” the principle upon
which a remission of punishment was to be granted. “Good conduct” is
capable of many interpretations. The novelist was not far wrong when he exhibited a
hypocritical villain as the pet of magistrates, chaplains, and gaolers. The Home Secretary
has now told the proper authorities that “remissions are to be earned by industry
alone—steady and laborious industry.” The Recorder of Birmingham thus
comments upon this wise regulation: “Industry is the ground on which we must
build; and, in order that the industry practised in the gaol may continue after the
prisoner is at large, it must be willing industry.” The forced labour of the
treadmill was one of the old mistakes of prison discipline. The convict was degraded by
labour without any more profitable results than might have been attained by a steam-engine
and a shaft. There could be no reformation when the moral sense, which few wholly lose, was
outraged.
Ch. XIV.] |
THE THIRD EPOCH. |
319 |
Whatever doubts may have arisen, or may still arise, upon the question of
effectually reforming adult criminals, none could maintain that Reformatories for juvenile
offenders were not better calculated to correct evil habits, and establish good principles,
than the gaol, the solitary cell, and the whip. Reformatories are
schools of industry for those young persons who have violated the laws of their country,
and, by magisterial authority, are placed under instruction and discipline. Refuges are Industrial Schools, where food and shelter are provided
for the houseless and destitute. Ragged Schools are for the
instruction of the very poorest class, who without such moral and religious teaching might
grow up into vagabonds and convicts, and would certainly have little chance of escaping
from their rags. Such institutions have been set on foot, and effectually promoted, by very
humble persons who saw the misery and vice around them. The noble and the influential came
in time to their aid; and have fully deserved such honour as belongs to the labours of
Lord Shaftesbury and Mary Carpenter, to promote “the happiness of the greatest
number,” in taking thought for “the little ones” that were
once left to hard taskmasters and profligate parents. One of the most valuable principles
of the Factory Acts, in originating which Lord Shaftesbury was mainly instrumental, is the
Education of Factory children.
To accomplish the good that is sought to be effected by elevating the
very poorest in the social scale, the middle and upper classes have not shrunk from very
close contact with the lower. In villages and small towns the duty is easier, and less
revolting to delicate natures, than to penetrate into the darkest
320 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
recesses of the crowded rooms where misery and crime were formerly left unvisited, except
by the police. In boldly fronting the indifference, if not the insults, with which the
inspection of their miserable houses was once received by the poorest, the clergy have led
the way. They have had the aid of true Deacons, and earnest Sisters of Mercy—not, indeed,
set apart for their good work, but devoted to it from a high determination to do something
more for their fellow-creatures than merely subscribing to public charities. Forty-five
years ago, before such exertions were common, Dr.
Chalmers, one of the wisest of Christian teachers, proclaimed that
“the law of reciprocal attraction between one heart and another is a law of
nature as well as of Christianity, insomuch that no sooner does the regard of a
philanthropist for the people of his district come to be recognized, than their regard
for him, and that, too, both from the converted and unconverted, will attest of what
kind of material our humanity is formed. . . . . . Though the ministration of gold and
silver be that which fortune hath altogether denied him, it is both very striking and
very encouraging to behold how, in spite of themselves, he steals the hearts of the
people away from them; how, as if by the operation of some mystic spell, the most
restless and profligate of them all, feel the softening influence of his presence and
of his ‘doings’!”
There is a book which may truly be called beautiful, in its pious
earnestness, as conspicuous as its ability—“The Missing Link.” The name of the book is
derived from the experiment which has been successfully made, of employing poor women to
carry religious teaching to the homes of poor women—to
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 321 |
set on foot
“Female Missions to the dens of London.” Truly does the authoress of this book say, “The City Missionary
and the Scripture Reader cannot accomplish this Woman’s Mission. They meet in
their morning rounds chiefly with women, dirty, lazy, and drunken; or, if industrious,
at their work. Their husbands are generally ‘at work,’and in some cases
they complain of the spiritual visit paid to their wives, as ‘just hindering them
and bothering them.’ But we do not find that they have anything to say against
our ‘Marians,’ and ‘Marthas,’ and ‘Sarahs,’ and
‘Rebeccas.’ These have all met with a genuine welcome from the Lower House
of Lords, who know that their wives want teaching the common arts of life, and that
even their own comfort depends upon the lesson being learned.”
One of the main objects of these “Passages” having been to
trace the progress of Popular Education and the Diffusion of Knowledge, it is scarcely
necessary that I should here enter upon this subject, as one of the evidences of that
regard for “the greatest number” which I deem a characteristic of the
present time. One of the most satisfactory results of educational improvement has been,
that the great body of the people have learnt better how to take care of their own
happiness. “With diffused wealth accompanying diffused knowledge, the grosser
vices of the middle class have vanished. The riot and indelicacy that characterised the
so-called enjoyments of too many of the traders, at the beginning of the century, have
given place to the tranquil pleasures of Home, with some taste for Art and Literature.
The reform of manners began somewhat earlier with the higher class. In the same way,
322 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
whatever coarseness and profligacy may still exist in the
lower, drunkenness, and blasphemy, and indecency, are not the habits of the artisan
class, but are the exceptions. It has been found out by those who undertake to teach
their inferiors in station, that to wean them from coarse gratifications they must have
rational amusements. Hence “Penny Readings,” and Cheap Concerts. Those who
belong to what is called “the wage class” are becoming capitalists. They
have learnt the value of the aide toi
principle. Lord Stanley, in a recent address to a
Mechanics’ Institute, thus described the causes which are carrying forward
“the greatest happiness of the greatest number,” over which they have
themselves control:—“I say, keep your independence, keep your self-reliance, and
never fear but you will continue to do well. The work in which you are engaged is only
part—it may be but a small part—of a great national movement. The school, the
institute, the cheap newspaper, the cheap book, go together with the benefit society,
the savings bank, the freehold cottage, the co-operative mill, and better still, the
co-operative store. The object of all these is one—to lighten the heavy and threefold
burden of ignorance, of poverty, and of labour. Failure there may be; mistakes there
occasionally will be; there may be long delay and temporary falling back; but that that
end will in some not inconsiderable degree be attained, is not only the earnest hope,
but the confident expectation, of those in whose thoughts the welfare and the greatness
of England are most constantly present.”
There are exceptional instances of employers of workmen, who look with
jealousy and apprehension
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 323 |
upon the means thus described, for
advancing the welfare of the greatest number by “self-help.” They scarcely dare
to avow that Savings Banks, by which the receivers of wages are often enabled to become
rivals in the employment of labour, are an abomination; but the Co-operative principle, in
all its various forms, they hold to be dangerous to the natural and established order of
society. There are also masters and mistresses of families, who do not
“patronise,” as their phrase is, the cheap newspaper and the cheap book. The
school, they think, may do some future good; but their belief is that it has done very much
present harm. In domestic matters, it is their common complaint that Education has
destroyed the old character of servants—that good female servants, especially, cannot be
obtained, for National Schools have set them above their work. This complaint, whether just
or not, involves questions which belong to our general social condition, of which the
extent of domestic service in England is a remarkable feature. The increase of this section
of the population, during the last thirty years, is one of the striking evidences of the
increase of the means of household expenditure amongst the middle classes. In 1831, the
female servants were about one thirteenth of the total female
population; in 1861, they were about one-tenth. Out of a million of
female domestics it is easily to be imagined that there are abundant specimens of the
ignorance and conceit that make up what the satirists call servant-gallism. One who has laboured long and earnestly in the preparation of
efficient “Teachers of the People,” has taken a most sensible view of
the question of “Domestic Service 324 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
as affected by Popular
Education.” When there was more distinction between the different orders of
society, there was less separation. “The parlour was not so far off from the
kitchen as it is now. In particular, the mistress saw more of her maidens, knew more
about their work, and shared it to a greater extent than is at all common in these
times. Now, she sits apart on Olympus. . . . . . The boarding-school is more
responsible for this change than the national school. . . . . . The homely remark which
I have heard from an elderly housekeeper is much to the purpose—‘Mistresses used
to teach their servants.’”* What is called “the plague of
servants” would be speedily abated, if the coldness and neglect of too many
heads of families did not set up a bar of separation between the payers and the receivers
of wages. It is the common mistake to believe that there is not a reciprocity of
obligation. It is the especial mistake of a vast number of ignorant or imperfectly educated
heads of families, to shudder at the slightest approach of their domestics to what they
deem an evident imitation of the manners of their superiors, as exhibited in the power of
reading novels or writing letters. This greater independence of domestic servants—their
increased power of expending their wages upon dress, and their leisure upon their own
gratifications—belongs to the general uplifting of every class into an approximation to the
habits of the class above them. The increase of national wealth has necessarily caused its
distribution through the smaller veins of the body politic, as well as the larger.
Ch. XIV.] |
THE THIRD EPOCH. |
325 |
At the beginning of the century, our great
philosophic poet wrote, amongst his “Sonnets dedicated to
Liberty,” several in which he laments over the tendencies of his age. He is—
“opprest, To think that now our life is only drest For show; mean handiwork of craftsman, cook, And groom.” |
Avarice and Prodigality were once held to be antagonistic. In Pope’s verse, “lordly luxury” is
opposed to “city gain.” Wordsworth saw the
beginning of a change, from the old frugal spirit of the middle class, by whom money was
slowly saved, to the passion for hasty acquisition, and the passion for profuse display.
This is not “The sense to value riches, with the art To enjoy them.” |
To the commercial man, wholly possessed with the dominant idea of making a fortune,
and at the same time urged on to expense for the sake of appearances, the vice and the
folly bring their own curses. These efforts sap the foundations of the old trading morality
of England. There are too many whose respectability is based upon the worship of “Rapine, avarice, expense— This is idolatry; and these we adore: Plain living, and high thinking, are no more.” |
The prevalence of these “middle class” examples has had no inconsiderable
share in producing profligate and unhappy children. The sons will not marry, until they can
live in the style of their parents; the daughters will drive away every suitor who is not
reputed rich. Vain regrets over lost 326 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
opportunities and ridiculous
waste, make the Present miserable and the Future dark, to the head of such a household.
A political economist, who professes to speak the opinion of “the
middle class” of this country, says that “the life of a man who leaves no
property, or family provision, of his own acquiring, at his death, is felt to have been
a failure.” I do not accept the doctrine as a true expression of the general
feeling. There are thousands of the commercial class and the professional class, who have
not been inordinately anxious to gather together “muckhills” of riches, to be
spread abroad when their accumulators are gone. Nevertheless, these have not been like the
“wicked and unprofitable servant,” who buried the one talent which
his Master entrusted to him. Few of them, probably, have neglected to make some modest
provision against absolute poverty which the system of Life Assurance affords. But, if they
have wisely incurred a liberal expenditure of capital upon the education of their children;
if they have placed their sons in positions where they may “learn and labour truly
to get their own living;” if they have qualified their daughters to discharge
sensibly and gracefully, whether as child, wife, or mother, the private and public duties
which render the English lady the promoter of all social dignity and enjoyment, they have
been amongst the most provident accumulators. They have laid up a profitable fund out of
their consumption, by preserving their families, whilst they have lived amongst them, in
the highest point of efficiency for future production. This doctrine may not be strictly
the science of “the wealth of nations,”
Ch. XIV.] | THE THIRD EPOCH. | 327 |
but I believe that it has something to do with “the
happiness of the greatest number.”
In many worldly respects my own life has not been “a
failure.” It was probably a blessing in disguise, that circumstances, over which I
had little control, long ago taught me that it was not for me to make a fortune, or to
indulge in the ostentation of ample means. I have been content with the “plain
living” that the philosophic poet sets above a life “only drest for
show.” If “high thinking” have not been altogether
wanting, I owe this to a love of books, and perhaps not less to the companionship of
educated and intelligent friends. I believe that I have made very few enemies. Within my
own proper sphere I have had as much social enjoyment as is compatible with the belief that
“the chief end of man” is duty and not pleasure.
The fiftieth anniversary of my marriage has just passed. Half a century
of congenial wedlock is a blessing accorded to few. It brought with it the further blessing
of a family united in love; of a home where cheerful faces ever welcomed me. During forty
years I had known no great sorrow. I had not been bereft of any one of those who were the
joy of my manhood, and the comfort of my age. A dark cloud has cast its solemn shadow over
my Golden Bridal; but I feel that our griefs, and the consolations which should come with
them, are for ourselves, and not for the outer world. Taken as a whole, my life has been a
happy one.
During the progress of these “Passages,” I have, as far as I
could, steadily resisted the temptation of entering upon any details of my private
circumstances or domestic relations. If, in closing this
328 | PASSAGES OF A WORKING LIFE: | [Ch. XIV. |
narrative,
I have stepped for an instant across the boundary line which I prescribed to myself, and if
I look not beyond my own home for one to whom I can offer a concluding tribute of
affection, I mast be forgiven, in the consideration that “out of the abundance of
the heart the mouth speaketh:”
TO MY WIFE;
TO HER WHO HAS BEEN THE BEST FRIEND,
THE ADVISER, THE SYMPATHIZER, THE CONSOLER,
DURING HALF A CENTURY OF MY WORKING LIFE,
I INSCRIBE THIS RECORD,
WITH A GRATEFUL HEART TO THE GIVER OF ALL GOOD.
January 16, 1865.
“AND HERE WILL I MAKE AN END. AND IF I HAVE DONE WELL, AND AS IS
FITTING THE STORY, IT IS THAT WHICH I DESIRED; BUT IF SLENDERLY AND MEANLY, IT IS THAT
WHICH I COULD ATTAIN UNTO.”—II. Maccabees, XV., 37,
38.
Henry Austin (1811-1861)
English civil engineer; an authority on sanitation, he was secretary to the General Board
of Health (1848-52) and a friend of Charles Dickens.
Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832)
The founder of Utilitarianism; author of
Principles of Morals and
Legislation (1789).
Henry Brooke (1703 c.-1783)
Educated at Trinity College, Dublin, he was a barrister and author of two popular works,
a tragedy,
Gustavus Vasa (1739) and a novel
The
Fool of Quality, 5 vols (1776-70).
Edmund Burke (1729-1797)
Irish politician and opposition leader in Parliament, author of
On the
Sublime and Beautiful (1757) and
Reflections on the Revolution
in France (1790).
Frances D'Arblay [née Burney] (1752-1840)
English novelist, the daughter of the musicologist Dr. Charles Burney; author of
Evelina; or, The History of a Young Lady's Entrance into the World
(1778),
Cecilia, or Memoirs of an Heiress (1782), and
Camilla (1796).
Mary Carpenter (1807-1877)
The daughter of the Unitarian minister Lant Carpenter (1780-1840); she was an
educationist and penal reformer who published
Reformatory Schools for the
Children of the Perishing and Dangerous Classes (1851).
Sir Edwin Chadwick (1800-1890)
Benthamite social reformer who worked on the poor laws in the 1830s and afterwards on
sewers and sanitation.
Thomas Chalmers (1780-1847)
Scottish divine and leader of the Free Church of Scotland; he was professor of moral
philosophy at St. Andrews (1823-28) and professor of divinity at Edinburgh
(1828-43).
Derwent Coleridge (1800-1883)
The son of Samuel Taylor Coleridge; educated at St John's College, Cambridge, he was
rector of Helston in Cornwall, principal of St Mark's College (1841), and a writer on
education. He contributed to
Knight's Quarterly Review.
Anthony Ashley- Cooper, seventh earl of Shaftesbury (1801-1885)
The son of the sixth earl (d. 1851); he was asocial reformer who introduced legislation
to relieve women and children laboring in coal mines and to limit the work-day for factory
laborers to ten hours.
Charles James Fox (1749-1806)
Whig statesman and the leader of the Whig opposition in Parliament after his falling-out
with Edmund Burke.
Edward Harbord, third Baron Suffield (1781-1835)
The son of the first baron (d. 1810); educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford, he was a political liberal and
MP for Great Yarmouth (1806-12) and Shaftesbury (1820-21); he
succeeded his brother in 1821.
Matthew Davenport Hill (1792-1872)
English barrister, the brother of Sir Rowland Hill; he was MP for Hull (1833-35),
recorder of Birmingham (1839) and a reformer of criminal laws.
William Hogarth (1697-1764)
English satirical painter whose works include
The Harlot's
Progress,
The Rake's Progress, and
Marriage à la Mode.
Thomas Jefferson Hogg (1792-1862)
English barrister and man of letters; after befriending Shelley at Oxford and being
expelled with him he pursued a legal career in London, publishing his
Life of Shelley in 1858.
William Huskisson (1770-1830)
English politician and ally of George Canning; privately educated, he was a Tory MP for
Morpeth (1796-1802), Liskeard (1804-07), Harwich (1807-12), Chichester (1812-23), and
Liverpool (1823-30). He died in railway accident.
Plato (427 BC-327 BC)
Athenian philosopher who recorded the teachings of his master Socrates in a series of
philosophical dialogues.
Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
English poet and satirist; author of
The Rape of the Lock (1714)
and
The Dunciad (1728).
Sir Samuel Romilly (1757-1818)
Reformer of the penal code and the author of
Thoughts on Executive
Justice (1786); he was a Whig MP and Solicitor-General who died a suicide.
Thomas Southwood Smith (1788-1861)
Physician and Unitarian minister; he was the author of
Illustrations of
the Divine Government, tending to show that everything is under the Direction of
infinite Wisdom and Goodness (1816).
Edward John Stanley, second baron Stanley (1802-1869)
The son of John Thomas Stanley, first Baron Stanley, educated at Christ Church, Oxford;
he was Whig MP for Hindon (1831), North Cheshire (1832-41, 1847-48), raised to the peerage
as baron Eddisbury (1848), president of the Board of Trade (1855-58) and postmaster-general
(1860-66).
George Steevens (1736-1800)
English antiquary, malicious wit, and editor of a standard edition of Shakespeare's
Works (1773, etc).
Christopher Thomson (1799-1847 fl.)
Nottinghamshire house-painter and advocate for popular education; his autobiography was
published in 1847.
John Trusler (1735-1820)
Educated at Westminster School and Emmanuel College, Cambridge, he was a clergyman,
publisher, and founder of the Literary Society (1765); among his publications was
Hogarth Moralized (1768).
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
With Coleridge, author of
Lyrical Ballads (1798), Wordsworth
survived his early unpopularity to succeed Robert Southey as poet laureate in 1843.
The Penny Magazine. 16 vols (1832-1846). Edited by Charles Knight for the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
The Quarterly Review. (1809-1967). Published by John Murray, the
Quarterly was instigated by Walter
Scott as a Tory rival to the
Edinburgh Review. It was edited by
William Gifford to 1824, and by John Gibson Lockhart from 1826 to 1853.