Christmas gold, p.648
Christmas Gold, page 648
"Now I say just the contrary," answered Truman. "When a man chooses to throw away his reason, and to bring himself down to a level with a beast, he must take the consequences. Drunkenness, instead of being an excuse for any fault, is an aggravation, and the law of the land says the same. I heartily wish that the laws against tippling and drunkenness10 were more frequently put in execution."
"These laws," replied Barton, "cannot, generally speaking, be put in force, unless some one will inform, and that would be so ill-natured. And besides, every one hates and cries out against the very name of an informer."
"I grant you," said Truman, "that when a man turns informer from spite—or for the sake of getting money—or from a view to private interest of any sort—he may perhaps deserve to be disliked. But a man who, after fair notice, informs against an offender from a sense of public duty—with a view to check a bad practice which is hurtful both to society and to those who are guilty of it—or from a sincere zeal for the interests of morality and religion, is a benefactor to the community. The lawless and profligate, who would be glad to get rid of all the restraints of every sort, will of course try to run him down; but he ought not to mind that, and he certainly deserves the thanks of all the friends of good order and morality."
Not only was the quiet of the village of Inglewood sometimes disturbed by drunken rows, but many little acts of mischief were committed, not from any particular spite, but in the mere wantonness of drunkenness. The farmers too found some of their men less disposed to work than formerly, and more disposed to be saucy; and they saw the wives and children of some few growing more and more ragged and miserable. They consoled themselves by abusing the justices for consenting to the establishment of the alehouse, and by blaming their minister for not taking more active measures to prevent it; and said for themselves, that they would never have set their hands to the certificate, if at the time they had not felt sure that the licence would not be granted.
Fowler's friends, however, determined to make it as good a thing for him as they could. His accident, and long confinement in consequence of it, had thrown him back, and they wished, they said, to give him a start. They resolved to have some pastime in the village, and tried to make up a purse for two prize fighters, who resided in the neighbourhood. Barton entered zealously into the scheme, and took care to have the fame of the projected amusement spread through the adjoining villages. Having occasion to call on Mr. Hooker on other business, he said that he hoped that he did not object to what was going forward. Mr. Hooker replied, that "he disapproved of it most decidedly."
Barton's good-nature was immediately up in arms. "Surely, Sir, it's very hard that the poor may not have a little amusement now and then. Our only object is, to give them a day's pleasure, and at the same time to give a little help to Fowler in his business, after his sad accident, which has thrown him back so unluckily."
"Nobody," said Mr. Hooker, "can be more friendly than I am to the amusements of the poor; provided they are innocent, and do not, almost necessarily, lead to immorality and sin. You know, Mr. Barton, as well as I do, that the pastime, as you call it, which you propose, will be attended with a great deal of drunkenness. Your avowed object is, that Fowler should sell as much beer and spirits as possible. I need not tell you, that drunkenness is not only a great sin in itself, but that it also leads to sins of every description. You know very well too, that on occasions of this sort, there is generally a great deal of swearing, a great deal of improper language, and, perhaps, a great deal of quarrelling. With respect to prize-fighting, sensible men have entertained different sentiments. My own opinion is, that it is a positive offence against the laws both of God and man; that it is a most disgusting exhibition; and surely a most improper sight for the women and children, who, in a village, will be spectators of it. I think also, that if one of the combatants should be killed, as is frequently the case, all those who have promoted the battle are parties in the guilt of manslaughter.
"Do not say that I am an enemy to the amusements of the poor. I like to have them enjoy themselves at proper times, and in a proper manner. I can take pleasure in seeing them engaged in a game at cricket, at football, at quoits, or any other manly exercise, provided they engage in it without swearing, or drunkenness, or other vice; but of the amusement now proposed in the village, I disapprove most decidedly."
The disapprobation of the clergyman, however, was not attended to. Barton talked of the parson's ill-nature in grudging the poor a little enjoyment, and said it was all of a piece with his finding fault with the poor boys for going to play on a Sunday, instead of going to church or the Sunday school.
The promised day at length arrived. The village was filled with a motley concourse from all the country round, and the fight took place. The men were equally matched, and fought with skill and courage. Both got severely bruised; but one of them received an unfortunate blow under the ear. He fell into the arms of his second, and it was soon discovered that the blow was mortal—he never spoke again. This sad accident threw a damp over the amusement of the day, and many repented of the good-nature which had led them to promote the pastime.
We will not, however, dwell upon this melancholy event, but proceed to the result of the indictment of the roads of the parish of Inglewood.
January came, and the Quarter Sessions. Both parties wished to have the indictment tried at once, and came prepared—the prosecutor with witnesses to prove that the road was very bad and unsafe—and Barton with several good-natured men, who were ready to swear, that it was as good a road as they wished to travel. The parish, however, was beat; and it being proved that frequent representations had been made of the bad state of the road in question, Inglewood was sentenced to pay a fine of fifty pounds, together with all costs, which amounted to forty more.
Farmer Barton hardly knew which was most ill-natured, the prosecutor, the jury, or the bench of magistrates. Perhaps he was most out of humour with the jury; for consisting, as it did principally, of farmers, they might, he thought, have put their oaths and their consciences a little on one side, where brother farmers were concerned. However, there was no help for it, and the money was to be found before the Easter Sessions.
He returned to Inglewood to console himself with the popularity, which he acquired in the exercise of the office of overseer. His good-nature led him to accede to almost every application, but his good-nature arose rather from his "fear of offending the importunate, than his desire of making the deserving happy11." The industrious and the modest remained contented with their former pittance; but the forward, and the impudent, and the clamorous, were continually urging their claims for more relief, and seldom urged them in vain.
"I hope, Farmer Barton," said one woman, "you will give me a little more allowance: when bread, and candles, and soap are paid for, there's hardly any thing left for tea and sugar." "Why I suppose then I must give you a trifle more—the parish can't miss it." One petitioner he manfully refused, and told her she must be content with what she had. "And how am I to buy snuff out of that12?" The overseer relented: he loved a pinch of snuff himself. Farmer Oldacre would gladly have filled a deserving old woman's snuff box at his own expense, but not at the expense of the parish.
The liberal allowances granted by Barton, of course, required frequent rates, which it was not very convenient to the farmers to pay. Those, however, who happened to have money by them, paid, and allowed themselves the satisfaction of grumbling. Those who had it not, begged for time, and kept their grumbling to themselves. Barton's good-nature did not permit him to be very pressing. The consequence was, that, as he was neither disposed, nor perhaps able, to advance the money from his own pocket, fresh rates became necessary, and those who could pay made up for the deficiencies of those who could not.
Farmer Oldacre was one of the former description; and though he often told his brother overseer, that he was bound in law to levy and expend one rate before he applied for another; yet when his own pocket seemed to be concerned, he would not be peremptory.
Another of those who were always ready with their money, and were consequently entitled to the privilege of grumbling, was Richard Sterling.
Richard occupied five or six acres of land, kept three cows, and got on pretty well by supplying his neighbours with milk. "What, another rate, Master Barton!—why it seems but t'other day that I paid the last."—"It can't be helped, Richard;—the poor must be provided for."—"I know they must," answered Sterling, "and as for those who cannot keep themselves, and are come to poverty without any fault of their own, I should not grudge it them if they had more;—but there are some who might as well help to support me, as I to support them. Pray, what may you give to Tim Nesbit?"—"Why—perhaps the matter of three and sixpence a week."—"Three and sixpence a week?—that comes I think to about nine pounds twelve a-year.—Tim and I were born in the same year; when we grew up we worked for the same master; we married much about the same time, and our families are of the same size. The only difference between us was, that while I tried to put by what I could spare, Tim, whether single or married, always carried good part of his earnings to the ale-house. Now is it not a little hard that I must now be forced to help to maintain him, because he chose to squander away his money? He might at this present time have been every bit as well off in the world as I am; but because he chose to be careless and a spendthrift, I am forced to take bread, as it were, from my own children, and give it to his13."
One day, when Barton was going towards his house, he was overtaken by Ralph the butcher's lad, who accosted him with, "Mr. Barton, I want you to do me a kindness." "What is it?" said Barton. "Why, you must know, that I have some thoughts of marrying, and want the parish just to run me up a bit of a house. Master will give carriage, and I can manage a good deal of the labour myself, so that it will cost the parish a mere trifle."
"You going to be married!" said Barton laughing, "why, how old are you?" "Old enough in all conscience, I shall be nineteen come February." "It might be as well to wait a few years longer," answered Barton; "however, I can't wonder at you; and we'll see what can be done."
He accordingly mentioned the subject to his brother overseer, whom he found in the field near his house. "I must say," replied Oldacre, "that I am no friend to these early marriages in any class of society. Young men and women—or rather I should say, boys and girls—take it into their heads to marry, before they can be supposed really to know their own minds. They are struck by something in the outward appearance, or taken by some whim and fancy, and become partners for life, before they have become acquainted with each other's temper or character, and before they have considered how to provide for a family. The consequence too often is, that the marriage turns out unhappily. Among the poor especially, who look to the parish for every thing, these early marriages produce a habit of dependence, which lowers their character and spirit for life."
"What you say, is much about the truth," replied Barton, "but these young people are bent upon marrying, and then, you know, there's no stopping them. Of course they must have a place to be in, and I suppose we may as well run him up a bit of a cottage at once."
"It is a serious thing," said Oldacre, "for farmers at rack-rent to begin building houses for their poor; but I am against it, for the sake of the poor themselves."
"Now I'm sure you must be wrong in that opinion," said Barton.
"Do just tell me," answered his brother overseer, "have we already labourers enough to do all the work of the parish?"
"Enough, and much more than enough. You know how puzzled we are to find employment for them in the winter. Indeed, excepting just in hay-making and harvest, we have always some men to be paid for their work out of the rates."
"Then is not increasing the number a bad thing for the poor themselves, if they already stand in each other's way? And do you not see, that building cottages is just the way to increase them? If you built twenty cottages, you would have them filled in a week's time. We have of late been forced to double some families, but that must be so uncomfortable in every way, that people do not like to marry upon such a prospect. But there are plenty of young men and women quite ready to hasten to the altar, if they could be sure of a roof to themselves to shelter them at night14. This of course, would make a lasting addition to the poor rates, would throw a heavy burden on the land, and render it still more difficult for the poor to find work.
"The cottages that we have I wish to see as comfortable as possible, and would have the poor people who inhabit them take a pride in keeping them neat and clean, and their gardens in nice order; but I am not for increasing the number of them. Such increase, I am persuaded, would be against the interest of the poor themselves."
Mr. Stanley, during a former visit to Inglewood, had often fallen in with Mr. Oldacre in his walks, and got into conversation with him: he happened to come up at the moment, and catching the last words that had fallen from the farmer, said to him, "I suspect, Mr. Oldacre, that you are not very friendly to the system of the poor laws."
"I will not by any means say that," replied Oldacre; "I believe that in every state of society, in a populous and old-inhabited country especially, there always will, and must, be poor. As the Scripture says, The poor shall never cease out of the land. I am glad, therefore, that provision is made by law for those who are unable to help themselves. Private charity, in many places, does a great deal; and if there were no poor-laws, would do a great deal more. But if all were left to be provided for by private charity, the kind-hearted would be oppressed by claims, and often give more than they could afford, while the selfish and covetous would contribute nothing. It is right that these latter should be forced to take their share of the burden. In many places again, if there was nothing but voluntary benevolence to trust to, multitudes would starve, and no civilized country ought to suffer that, if it can help it. Indeed, I wish that we were able to give a larger measure of parochial relief to the aged and infirm, who are reduced to want through no fault of their own. But then, I must say, though I shall be thought ill-natured for saying so, that I cannot help seeing that the poor-laws—whether from bad management, or from the peculiar circumstances of the times, I will not pretend to say—have in many ways done no good to the character and the habits of several among the poor."
"I know," said Mr. Stanley, "that many sensible men entertain the same opinion; but, perhaps, you can give me a few instances which may make your meaning more clear."
"Many of the poor," replied Oldacre, "have not been hurt by them, but still preserve the steady, manly, independent character, which becomes an Englishman. But too frequently dependence on parish rates has produced very pernicious consequences.
"The connection between a farmer and his labourers—you will say, that I speak like a farmer, in mentioning that first—ought to be advantageous to both—not merely as a contract, by which the employer is to receive so much work, and the workman so much money; but as it tends to produce an interchange between them of kind offices and kind feelings. By many of the labourers this is still felt as it ought to be felt, and they take a pride and a pleasure in working year after year for the same master, and try to obtain his approbation by industry and good conduct. Some of them, however, have no notion of fixing themselves. They care little whether their employer is pleased with them or not, and upon the slightest affront as they call it, or the slightest difference about wages, they are off directly. If one wont employ them, another must; or, at all events, they must be employed by the parish.
"Again; the natural affection which subsists between parent and child, is strengthened and increased in both—as is the case indeed with brute animals—by the dependence of the children on their parents for subsistence. But now this dependence is, in many instances, removed from the parent to the overseer. On the other hand, when the parents grow old and infirm, the children often might do much to assist them, and if left to themselves would delight in doing so. But under the present system, if they do it at all, they do it by stealth; for why, say they, should we favour the parish? If they happen to have a little matter of money left them, they are tempted for the same reason to conceal it. Here again they ask, why should they favour the parish? and they will not feel, that the receiving of parish relief, when they have any thing of their own, is a fraud upon the parish, an act of dishonesty.
"Few virtues are more useful in any condition of life than frugality and foresight. Upon these, however, the poor laws have certainly made a sad inroad: unmarried men, or those, who though married have no families, or whose children have got out, while they continue in full health and vigour, might often contrive to lay by something against old age. But this few of them think of doing, for why should they favour the parish? The parish must provide for them at any rate, and so they may as well spend their money as fast as they get it. The future satisfaction of living on their own means, instead of on parish pay, is not sufficient to stand against the temptation of present pleasure.—Savings banks are an excellent institution, but when once a man has quartered himself as a pauper upon the parish, he will not make use of them. Why should he put money into the bank in order to favour the parish?—I shall tire you, Sir, I fear," continued the farmer, "but you must let me mention one thing more. Beneficence is, we know, twice blessed; it blesses him that gives, and him that takes; but parish relief comes sadly in the way of beneficence. When men are forced to pay so much to the poor through the hands of the overseer, they have neither the inclination, nor, in fact, the power, to give so largely in the way of voluntary charity.
"Many other instances I could give of the unfavourable effect which the poor laws have had upon the characters, and consequently upon the happiness, of the poor15. I do not blame the poor:—many, who would otherwise keep off the parish, are driven to it by the low rate of wages, which has been occasioned, I suppose, partly by an oversupply of hands, and partly by irregularities in our currency.
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