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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 01:03:30 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 01:03:30 -0800 |
| commit | dbe9bee2755a8f4c6bc782f547c5c495ea804dee (patch) | |
| tree | cf4ac523deb7222147b0f0583801c82c1e888cc0 /52423-h | |
| parent | 4c5e586077461073e06c694e906a7f028262413f (diff) | |
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-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The White Slaves of England, by John C. Cobden
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: The White Slaves of England
-
-Author: John C. Cobden
-
-Release Date: June 28, 2016 [EBook #52423]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WHITE SLAVES OF ENGLAND ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Brian Coe, Christian Boissonnas and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
-file was produced from images generously made available
-by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_frontispiece.jpg" id="i_frontispiece.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg"
- alt="The White Slaves of England" />
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="ac x-smaller">
-FIFTH THOUSAND.</p>
-
-<h1>
-THE WHITE SLAVES<br />
-<br />
-<span class="xx-smaller">OF</span><br />
-<br />
-ENGLAND.</h1>
-
-<p class="ac p4">
-COMPILED FROM OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS.<br />
-<br />
-<span class="xx-smaller">WITH TWELVE SPIRITED ILLUSTRATIONS.</span></p>
-
-<p class="ac">BY JOHN C. COBDEN.</p>
-
-<p class="ac p6"><span class="smaller">AUBURN AND BUFFALO:</span><br />
-MILLER ORTON & MULLIGAN.<br />
-<span class="smaller">1854.</span><br />
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-
-<p class="ac">
-Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and
-fifty-three, by<br />
-
-<span class="sc">Derby and Miller</span>,<br />
-In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New-York.<br />
-</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2>
-</div>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> following pages exhibit a system of wrong and outrage
-equally abhorrent to justice, civilization and humanity. The
-frightful abuses which are here set forth, are, from their enormity,
-difficult of belief; yet they are supported by testimony
-the most impartial, clear and irrefutable. These abuses are
-time-honored, and have the sanction of a nation which prides itself
-upon the <i>freedom of its Constitution</i>; and which holds up
-its government to the nations of the earth as a model of <i>regulated
-liberty</i>. Vain, audacious, <i>false</i> assumption! Let the refutation
-be found in the details which this volume furnishes, of
-the want, misery and starvation—the slavish toil—the menial
-degradation of nineteen-twentieths of her people. Let her
-<i>miners</i>, her <i>operatives</i>, <i>the tenants of her workhouses</i>, her
-<i>naval service</i>, and the millions upon millions in the <i>Emerald
-Isle</i> and in farther India attest its fallacy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">These are the legitimate results of the laws and institutions
-of Great Britain; and they reach and affect, in a greater or less
-degree, all her dependencies. Her <i>church and state</i>, and her
-<i>laws of entail and primogeniture</i>, are the principal sources of
-the evils under which her people groan; and until these are
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>
-changed there is no just ground of hope for an improvement
-in their condition. The tendency of things is, indeed, to make
-matters still worse. The poor are every year becoming poorer,
-and more dependent upon those who feast upon their sufferings;
-while the wealth and power of the realm are annually
-concentrating in fewer hands, and becoming more and more instruments
-of oppression. The picture is already sufficiently
-revolting. "Nine hundred and ninety-nine children of the
-same common Father, suffer from destitution, that the thousandth
-may revel in superfluities. A thousand cottages shrink
-into meanness and want, to swell the dimensions of a single palace.
-The tables of a thousand families of the industrious poor waste
-away into drought and barrenness, that one board may be laden
-with surfeits."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">From these monstrous evils there seems to be little chance
-of escape, except by flight; and happy is it for the victims of
-oppression, that an asylum is open to them, in which they can
-fully enjoy the rights and privileges, from which, for ages, they
-have been debarred. Let them come. The feudal chains
-which so long have bound them can here be shaken off. Here
-they can freely indulge the pure impulses of the mind and the
-soul, untrammeled by political or religious tyranny. Here
-they can enjoy the beneficent influences of humane institutions
-and laws, and find a vast and ample field in which to develop
-and properly employ all their faculties.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The United States appear before the eyes of the down-trodden
-whites of Europe as a land of promise. Thousands of ignorant,
-degraded wretches, who have fled from their homes to
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
-escape exhausting systems of slavery, annually land upon our
-shores, and in their hearts thank God that he has created such
-a refuge. This is the answer—the overwhelming answer—to
-the decriers of our country and its institutions. These emigrants
-are more keenly alive to the superiority of our institutions
-than most persons who have been bred under them, and
-to their care we might confidently intrust our defence.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">We design to prove in this work that the oligarchy which
-owns Great Britain at the present day is the best friend of human
-slavery, and that its system is most barbarous and destructive.
-Those feudal institutions which reduced to slavery the
-strong-minded race of whites, are perpetuated in Great Britain,
-to the detriment of freedom wherever the British sway extends.
-Institutions which nearly every other civilized country has abolished,
-and which are at least a century behind the age, still curse
-the British islands and their dependencies. This system of
-slavery, with all its destructive effects, will be found fully illustrated
-in this volume.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Our plan has been to quote English authorities wherever possible.
-Out of their own mouths shall they be condemned.
-We have been much indebted to the publications of distinguished
-democrats of England, who have keenly felt the evils
-under which their country groans, and striven, with a hearty
-will, to remove them. They have the sympathies of civilized
-mankind with their cause. May their efforts soon be crowned
-with success, for the British masses and oppressed nations far
-away in the East will shout loud and long when the aristocracy
-is brought to the dust!</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
-
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>" • • • • • <span class="sc">AS WE HAVE BEEN GREAT IN CRIME, LET US BE
-EARLY IN REPENTANCE. THERE WILL BE A DAY OF RETRIBUTION, WHEREIN
-WE SHALL HAVE TO GIVE ACCOUNT OF ALL THE TALENTS, FACULTIES,
-AND OPPORTUNITIES WHICH HAVE BEEN INTRUSTED TO US. LET IT NOT
-THEN APPEAR THAT OUR SUPERIOR POWER HAS BEEN EMPLOYED TO OPPRESS
-OUR FELLOW CREATURES, AND OUR SUPERIOR LIGHT TO DARKEN THE CREATION
-OF OUR GOD.</span>"—<i>Wilberforce.</i></p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<table id="TOC" summary="CONTENTS">
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_I" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER I.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">General Slavery proceeding from the existence of the British Aristocracy</td>
- <td class="c2"><span style="width:10%;"><i>Page </i></span>13</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_II" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER II.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Slavery in the British Mines</td>
- <td class="c2">28</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_III" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER III.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Slavery in the British Factories</td>
- <td class="c2">104</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER IV.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Slavery in the British Workshops</td>
- <td class="c2">168</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_V" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER V.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">The Workhouse System of Britain</td>
- <td class="c2">206</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER VI.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Impressment, or Kidnapping White Men for Slaves in the Naval Service</td>
- <td class="c2">257</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER VII.</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Irish Slavery</td>
- <td class="c2">284</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER VIII.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">The Menial Slaves of Great Britain</td>
- <td class="c2">370</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER IX.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Mental and Moral Condition of the White Slaves in Great Britain</td>
- <td class="c2">379</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_X" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER X.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Coolie Slavery in the British Colonies</td>
- <td class="c2">433</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER XI.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Slavery in British India</td>
- <td class="c2">441</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII" style="text-decoration: none;">
- CHAPTER XII.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">The Crime and the Duty of the English Government</td>
- <td class="c2">489</td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="ac">THE<br /><br />
-<span class="larger">WHITE SLAVES OF ENGLAND.</span></p>
-
-
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">GENERAL SLAVERY PROCEEDING FROM THE EXISTENCE OF
-THE BRITISH ARISTOCRACY.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">What</span> is slavery? A system under which the time
-and toil of one person are compulsorily the property of
-another. The power of life and death, and the privilege
-of using the lash in the master, are not essential, but
-casual attendants of slavery, which comprehends all involuntary
-servitude without adequate recompense or the
-means of escape. He who can obtain no property in the
-soil, and is not represented in legislation, is a slave;
-for he is completely at the mercy of the lord of the soil
-and the holder of the reins of government. Sometimes
-slavery is founded upon the inferiority of one race to
-another; and then it appears in its most agreeable
-garb, for the system may be necessary to tame and
-civilize a race of savages. But the subjection of the
-majority of a nation to an involuntary, hopeless, exhausting,
-and demoralizing servitude, for the benefit of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>
-an idle and luxurious few of the same nation, is slavery
-in its most appalling form. Such a system of slavery,
-we assert, exists in Great Britain.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the United Kingdom, the land is divided into
-immense estates, constantly retained in a few hands;
-and the tendency of the existing laws of entail and
-primogeniture is to reduce even the number of these
-proprietors. According to McCulloch, there are
-77,007,048 acres of land in the United Kingdom, including
-the small islands adjacent. Of this quantity,
-28,227,435 acres are uncultivated; while, according to
-Mr. Porter, another English writer, about 11,300,000
-acres, now lying waste, are fit for cultivation. The
-number of proprietors of all this land is about 50,000.
-Perhaps, this is a rather high estimate for the present
-period. Now the people of the United Kingdom number
-at least 28,000,000. What a tremendous majority,
-then, own not a foot of soil! But this is not the worst.
-Such is the state of the laws, that the majority never
-can acquire an interest in the land. Said the London
-<i>Times</i>, in 1844, "<i>Once a peasant in England, and the
-man must remain a peasant for ever</i>;" and, says Mr.
-Kay, of Trinity College, Cambridge—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Unless the English peasant will consent to tear himself from
-his relations, friends, and early associations, and either transplant
-himself into a town or into a distant colony, he has no chance of
-improving his condition in the world."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Admit this—admit that the peasant must remain
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>
-through life at the mercy of his lord, and of legislation
-in which his interests are not represented—and tell us
-if he is a freeman?</p>
-
-<p class="i1">To begin with England, to show the progress and
-effects of the land monopoly:—The Rev. Henry Worsley
-states that in the year 1770, there were in England
-250,000 freehold estates, in the hands of 250,000 different
-families; and that, in 1815, the whole of the lands of
-England were concentrated in the hands of only 32,000
-proprietors! So that, as the population increases, the
-number of proprietors diminishes. A distinguished
-lawyer, who was engaged in the management of estates
-in Westmoreland and Cumberland counties in 1849,
-says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The greater proprietors in this part of the country are buying
-up all the land, and including it in their settlements. Whenever
-one of the small estates is put up for sale, the great proprietors
-outbid the peasants and purchase it at all costs. The consequence
-is, that for some time past, the number of the small estates has been
-rapidly diminishing in all parts of the country. In a short time
-none of them will remain, but all be merged in the great estates.
-* * * The consequence is, that the peasant's position, instead
-of being what it once was—one of hope—is gradually becoming
-one of despair. Unless a peasant emigrates, there is now no
-chance for him. It is impossible for him to rise above the peasant
-class."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The direct results of this system are obvious. Unable
-to buy land, the tillers of the soil live merely by the
-sufferance of the proprietors. If one of the great landholders
-takes the notion that grazing will be more
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
-profitable than farming, he may sweep away the homes
-of his labourers, turning the poor wretches upon the
-country as wandering paupers, or driving them into the
-cities to overstock the workshops and reduce the wages
-of the poor workman. And what is the condition of
-the peasants who are allowed to remain and labour
-upon the vast estates? Let Englishmen speak for
-Englishmen.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Devon, Somerset, Dorset, and Wiltshire are generally
-regarded as presenting the agricultural labourer in his
-most deplorable circumstances, while Lincolnshire exhibits
-the other extreme. We have good authority for
-the condition of the peasantry in all these counties.
-Mr. John Fox, medical officer of the Cerne Union, in
-Dorsetshire, says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Most of the cottages are of the worst description; some mere
-mud-hovels, and situated in low and damp places, with cesspools
-or accumulations of filth close to the doors. The mud floors of
-many are much below the level of the road, and, in wet seasons,
-are little better than so much clay. In many of the cottages, the
-beds stood on the ground floor, which was damp three parts of
-the year; scarcely one had a fireplace in the bedroom; and one
-had a single small pane of glass stuck in the mud wall as its only
-window. Persons living in such cottages are generally very poor,
-very dirty, and usually in rags, living almost wholly on bread
-and potatoes, scarcely ever tasting any animal food, and, consequently,
-highly susceptible of disease, and very unable to contend
-with it."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Very often, according to other equally good authority,
-there is not more than one room for the whole family,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
-and the demoralization of that family is the natural
-consequence. The <i>Morning Chronicle</i> of November,
-1849, said of the cottages at Southleigh, in Devon—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"One house, which our correspondent visited, was almost a
-ruin. It had continued in that state for ten years. The floor
-was of mud, dipping near the fireplace into a deep hollow, which
-was constantly filled with water. There were five in the family—a
-young man of twenty-one, a girl of eighteen, and another girl
-of about thirteen, with the father and mother, all sleeping together
-up-stairs. And what a sleeping-room! 'In places it
-seemed falling in. To ventilation it was an utter stranger. The
-crazy floor shook and creaked under me as I paced it.' Yet the
-rent was 1<i>s.</i> a week—the same sum for which apartments that
-may be called luxurious in comparison may be had in the model
-lodging-houses. And here sat a girl weaving that beautiful
-Honiton lace which our peeresses wear on court-days. Cottage
-after cottage at Southleigh presented the same characteristics.
-Clay floors, low ceilings letting in the rain, no ventilation; two
-rooms, one above and one below; gutters running through the
-lower room to let off the water; unglazed window-frames, now
-boarded up, and now uncovered to the elements, the boarding
-going for firewood; the inmates disabled by rheumatism, ague,
-and typhus; broad, stagnant, open ditches close to the doors;
-heaps of abominations piled round the dwellings; such are the
-main features of Southleigh; and it is in these worse than pig-styes
-that one of the most beautiful fabrics that luxury demands
-or art supplies is fashioned. The parish houses are still worse.
-'One of these, on the borders of Devonshire and Cornwall, and
-not far from Launceston, consisted of two houses, containing
-between them four rooms. In each room lived a family night
-and day, the space being about twelve feet square. In one were
-a man and his wife and eight children; the father, mother, and
-two children lay in one bed, the remaining six were huddled
-'head and foot' (three at the top and three at the foot) in the
-other bed. The eldest girl was between fifteen and sixteen, the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
-eldest boy between fourteen and fifteen.' Is it not horrible to
-think of men and women being brought up in this foul and brutish
-manner in civilized and Christian England! The lowest of
-savages are not worse cared for than these children of a luxurious
-and refined country."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Yet other authorities describe cases much worse than
-this which so stirs the heart of the editor of the <i>Morning
-Chronicle</i>. The frightful immorality consequent
-upon such a mode of living will be illustrated fully in
-another portion of this work.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Lincolnshire, the cottages of the peasantry are in a
-better condition than in any other part of England; but
-in consequence of the lowness of wages and the comparative
-enormity of rents, the tillers of the soil are in
-not much better circumstances than their rural brethren
-in other counties. Upon an average, a hard-working
-peasant can earn five shillings a week; two shillings of
-which go for rent. If he can barely live when employed,
-what is to become of him when thrown out of employment?
-Thus the English peasant is driven to the most
-constant and yet hopeless labour, with whips more
-terrible than those used by the master of the negro slave.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Wales, the condition of the peasant, thanks to the
-general system of lord and serf, is neither milder nor
-more hopeful than in England. Mr. Symonds, a commissioner
-who was sent by government to examine the
-state of education in some of the Welsh counties, says
-of the peasantry of Brecknockshire, Cardiganshire, and
-Radnorshire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The people of my district are almost universally poor. In
-some parts of it, wages are probably lower than in any part of
-Great Britain. The evidence of the witnesses, fully confirmed by
-other statements, exhibits much poverty, but little amended in
-other parts of the counties on which I report. <i>The farmers themselves
-are very much impoverished, and live no better than English
-cottagers in prosperous agricultural counties.</i></p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The cottages in which the people dwell are miserable in the
-extreme in nearly every part of the country in Cardiganshire,
-and every part of Brecknockshire and Radnorshire, except the
-east. I have myself visited many of the dwellings of the poor,
-and my assistants have done so likewise. <i>I believe the Welsh
-cottages to be very little, if at all, superior to the Irish huts in the
-country districts.</i></p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Brick chimneys are very unusual in these cottages; those
-which exist are usually in the shape of large cones, the top being
-of basket-work. <i>In very few cottages is there more than one room</i>,
-which serves the purposes of living and sleeping. A large dresser
-and shelves usually form the partition between the two; and
-where there are separate beds for the family, a curtain or low
-board is (if it exists) the only division with no regular partition.
-And this state of things very generally prevails, even where there
-is some little attention paid to cleanliness; but the cottages and
-beds are frequently filthy. The people are always very dirty. In
-all the counties, the cottages are generally destitute of necessary
-outbuildings, including even those belonging to the farmers; and
-both in Cardiganshire and Radnorshire, except near the border
-of England, the pigs and poultry have free run of the joint dwelling
-and sleeping rooms."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In Scotland, the estates of the nobility are even
-larger than in England. Small farms are difficult to
-find. McCulloch states that there are not more than
-8000 proprietors of land in the whole of Scotland; and,
-as in England, this number is decreasing. In some
-districts, the cottages of the peasantry are as wretched
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
-as any in England or Wales. For some years past, the
-great landholders, such as the Duke of Buccleuch and
-the Duchess of Sutherland, have been illustrating the
-glorious beneficence of British institutions by removing
-the poor peasantry from the homes of their fathers, for
-the purpose of turning the vacated districts into deer-parks,
-sheep-walks, and large farms. Many a Highland
-family has vented a curse upon the head of the remorseless
-Duchess of Sutherland. Most slaveholders
-in other countries feed, shelter, and protect their slaves,
-in compensation for work; but the Duchess and her
-barbarous class take work, shelter, food, and protection
-from their serfs all at one fell swoop, turning them upon
-the world to beg or starve. Scotland has reason—strong
-reason—to bewail the existence of the British
-aristocracy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Next let us invoke the testimony of Ireland—the
-beautiful and the wretched—Ireland, whose people have
-been the object of pity to the nations for centuries—whose
-miseries have been the burden of song and the
-theme of eloquence till they have penetrated all hearts
-save those of the oppressors—whose very life-blood has
-been trampled out by the aristocracy. Let us hear her
-testimony in regard to the British slave system.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Ireland is splendidly situated, in a commercial point
-of view, commanding the direct route between Northern
-Europe and America, with some of the finest harbours
-in the world. Its soil is rich and fruitful. Its rivers
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
-are large, numerous, and well adapted for internal
-commerce. The people are active, physically and
-intellectually, and, everywhere beyond Ireland, are
-distinguished for their energy, perseverance, and
-success. Yet, in consequence of its organized oppression,
-called government, Ireland is the home of miseries
-which have scarcely a parallel upon the face of the
-earth. The great landlords spend most of their time
-in England or upon the continent, and leave their lands
-to the management of agents, who have sub-agents for
-parts of the estates, and these latter often have still
-inferior agents. Many of the great landlords care
-nothing for their estates beyond the receipt of the rents,
-and leave their agents to enrich themselves at the
-expense of the tenantry. Everywhere in Ireland, a
-traveller, as he passes along the roads, will see on the
-roadsides and in the fields, places which look like
-mounds of earth and sods, with a higher heap of sods
-upon the top, out of which smoke is curling upward;
-and with two holes in the sides of the heap next the
-road, one of which is used as the door, and the other
-as the window of the hovel. These are the homes of
-the peasantry! Entering a hovel, you will find it to
-contain but one room, formed by the four mud walls;
-and in these places, upon the mud floor, the families of
-the peasant live. Men, women, boys, and girls live
-and sleep together, and herd with the wallowing pig.
-Gaunt, ragged figures crawl out of these hovels and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
-plant the ground around them with potatoes, which
-constitute the only food of the inmates throughout the
-year, or swarm the roads and thoroughfares as wretched
-beggars. The deplorable condition of these peasants
-was graphically described by no less a person than Sir
-Robert Peel, in his great speech on Ireland, in 1849;
-and the evidence quoted by him was unimpeachable.
-But not only are the majority of the Irish condemned
-to exist in such hovels as we have sketched above—their
-tenure of these disgusting cabins is insecure. If they
-do not pay the rent for them at the proper time, they
-are liable to be turned adrift even in the middle of the
-night. No notice is necessary. The tenants are subject
-to the tender mercies of a bailiff, without any
-remedy or appeal, except to the court of Heaven. Kay
-states that in 1849, more than 50,000 families were
-evicted and turned as beggars upon the country. An
-Englishman who travelled through Ireland in the fall
-of 1849, says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In passing through some half dozen counties, Cork, (especially
-in the western portions of it,) Limerick, Clare, Galway, and
-Mayo, you see thousands of ruined cottages and dwellings of the
-labourers, the peasants, and the small holders of Ireland. You
-see from the roadside twenty houses at once with not a roof upon
-them. I came to a village not far from Castlebar, where the
-system of eviction had been carried out only a few days before.
-Five women came about us as the car stopped, and on making
-inquiry, they told us their sorrowful story. They were not badly
-clad; they were cleanly in appearance; they were intelligent;
-they used no violent language, but in the most moderate terms
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
-told us that on the Monday week previously those five houses had
-been levelled. They told us how many children there were in
-their families: I recollect one had eight, another had six; that
-the husbands of three of them were in this country for the harvest;
-that they had written to their husbands to tell them of the
-desolation of their homes. And, I asked them, 'What did the
-husbands say in reply?' They said 'they had not been able to
-eat any breakfast!' It is but a simple observation, but it marks
-the sickness and the sorrow which came over the hearts of those
-men, who here were toiling for their three or four pounds, denying
-themselves almost rest at night that they might make a good
-reaping at the harvest, and go back that they might enjoy it in
-the home which they had left. All this is but a faint outline of
-what has taken place in that unhappy country. Thousands of
-individuals have died within the last two or three years in consequence
-of the evictions which have taken place."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The great loss of life in the famine of 1847 showed
-that the peasantry had a miserable dependence upon
-the chances of a good potato crop for the means of
-keeping life in their bodies. Crowds of poor wretches,
-after wandering about for a time like the ghosts of
-human beings, starved to death by the roadside, victims
-of the murderous policy of the landed aristocracy.
-Since that period of horror, the great proprietors,
-envious of the lurid fame achieved by the Duchess of
-Sutherland in Scotland, have been evicting their tenants
-on the most extensive scale, and establishing large farms
-and pasturages, which they deem more profitable than
-former arrangements. In despair at home, the wretched
-Irish are casting their eyes to distant lands for a refuge
-from slavery and starvation. But hundreds of thousands
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
-groan in their hereditary serfdom, without the
-means of reaching other and happier countries. The
-dearest ties of family are sundered by the force of want.
-The necessity of seeking a subsistence drives the father
-to a distant land, while the child is compelled to remain
-in Ireland a pauper. The husband can pay his own
-passage to America, perchance, but the wife must stay
-in the land of misery. Ask Ireland if a slave can
-breathe in Great Britain! The long lamentation of
-ages, uniting with the heart-broken utterances of her
-present wretched bondsmen, might touch even the
-British aristocracy in its reply.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">So much for the general condition of the peasantry
-in the United Kingdom. The miserable consequences of
-the system of lord and serf do not end here. No! There
-are London, Manchester, Birmingham, Glasgow, Dublin,
-and many other cities and towns, with their crowds of
-slaves either in the factories and workshops, or in the
-streets as paupers and criminals. There are said to be
-upward of four millions of paupers in the United
-Kingdom! Can such an amount of wretchedness be
-found in any country upon the face of the globe? To
-what causes are we to attribute this amount of pauperism,
-save to the monopolies and oppressions of the
-aristocracy? Think of there being in the United
-Kingdom over eleven million acres of good land uncultivated,
-and four millions of paupers! According to
-Kay, more than two millions of people were kept from
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
-starving in England and Wales, in 1848, by relief doled
-out to them from public and private sources. So scant
-are the earnings of those who labour day and night in
-the cities and towns, that they may become paupers if
-thrown out of work for a single week. Many from
-town and country are driven by the fear of starvation
-to labour in the mines, the horrors of which species of
-slavery shall be duly illustrated farther on in this
-work.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Truly did Southey write—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"To talk of English happiness, is like talking of Spartan freedom;
-the <i>helots</i> are overlooked. In no country can such riches
-be acquired by commerce, but it is the one who grows rich by
-the labour of the hundred. The hundred human beings like
-himself, as wonderfully fashioned by nature, gifted with the like
-capacities, and equally made for immortality, are sacrificed <i>body
-and soul</i>. Horrible as it must needs appear, the assertion is true
-to the very letter. They are deprived in childhood of all instruction
-and all enjoyment—of the sports in which childhood instinctively
-indulges—of fresh air by day and of natural sleep by night.
-Their health, physical and moral, is alike destroyed; they die of
-diseases induced by unremitting task-work, by confinement in
-the impure atmosphere of crowded rooms, by the particles of
-metallic or vegetable dust which they are continually inhaling;
-or they live to grow up without decency, without comfort, and
-without hope—without morals, without religion, and without
-shame; and bring forth <i>slaves</i> like themselves to tread in the
-same path of misery."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Again, the same distinguished Englishman says, in
-number twenty-six of Espriella's Letters—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The English boast of their liberty, but there is <i>no liberty in
-England for the poor</i>. They are no longer sold with the soil, it
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>
-is true; but they cannot quit the soil if there be any probability
-or suspicion that age or infirmity may disable them. If, in such
-a case, they endeavour to remove to some situation where they
-hope more easily to maintain themselves, where work is more
-plentiful or provisions cheaper, the overseers are alarmed, the
-intruder is apprehended, as if he were a criminal, and sent back
-to his own parish. Wherever a pauper dies, that parish must bear
-the cost of his funeral. Instances, therefore, have not been
-wanting of wretches, in the last stage of disease, having been
-hurried away in an open cart, upon straw, and dying upon the
-road. Nay, even women, in the very pains of labour, have been
-driven out, and have perished by the wayside, because the birthplace
-of the child would be its parish!"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The sufferings of the rural labourers—the peasantry
-of Great Britain and Ireland—are to be attributed to
-the fact that they have no property in the land, and
-cannot acquire any. The law of primogeniture, on
-which the existence of the British aristocracy depends,
-has, as we have already shown, placed the land and
-those who labour on it—the soil and the serfs—at the
-disposal of a few landed proprietors. The labourers are
-not attached to the soil, and bought and sold with it,
-as in Russia. The English aristocrat is too cunning to
-adopt such a regulation, because it would involve the
-necessity of supporting his slaves. They are <i>called</i>
-freemen, in order to enable their masters to detach them
-from the soil, and drive them forth to starve, when it
-suits their convenience, without incurring any legal
-penalty for their cruelty, such as the slaveholders of
-other countries would suffer. The Russian, the Spanish,
-the North American slaveholder must support his
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
-slaves in sickness and helpless old age, or suffer the
-penalties of the law for his neglect. The British slaveholder
-alone may drive his slaves forth to starve in the
-highway by hundreds and thousands; and no law of
-Great Britain affords the means of punishing him for
-his murderous cruelty. His Irish slaves may be saved
-from starvation by American bounty, but he cannot be
-punished until he shall meet his Judge at the day of
-final account.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">SLAVERY IN THE BRITISH MINES.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">In</span> proceeding to speak more particularly of the
-various forms of British slavery, we will begin with
-labour in the mines—the horrors of which became
-known to the world through reports made to Parliament
-in the summer of 1840. Pressed by the fear of general
-execration, Parliament appointed a commission of inquiry,
-which, after a thorough examination of all the
-mines in the United Kingdom, made a voluminous report.
-So shocking were the accounts of labour in the
-mines given by this commission, that the delicate nerves
-of several perfumed lords were grievously pained, and
-they denounced the commissioners as being guilty of
-exaggeration. Nevertheless, the evidence adduced by
-the officers was unimpeachable, and their statements
-were generally received as plain truth.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_028.jpg" id="i_028.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_028.jpg"
- alt="" />
- <div class="caption">COAL GETTER AT WORK.</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">The mining industry of the kingdom is divided into
-two distinct branches—that of the coal and iron mines,
-and that of the mines of tin, copper, lead, and zinc.
-The "coal measures," as the geological formations
-comprising the strata of coal are designated, are variously
-dispersed in the middle, northern, and western
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>
-portions of South Britain, and in a broad belt of country
-which traverses the centre of Scotland, from the
-shores of Ayrshire to those of the Firth of Forth.
-There are, also, some coal-tracts in Ireland, but they
-are of comparatively small importance. In all these
-districts, the coal is found in beds, interstratified for
-the most part with various qualities of gritstone and
-shale, in which, in some of the districts, occur layers
-of ironstone, generally thin, but sometimes forming
-large masses, as in the Forest of Dean. When the
-surface of the coal country is mountainous and intersected
-by deep ravines, as in South Wales, the mineral
-deposites are approached by holes driven into the sides
-of the hills; but the common access to them is by vertical
-shafts, or well-holes, from the bottoms of which
-horizontal roadways are extended in long and confined
-passages through the coal strata, to bring all that is
-hewn to the "pit's eye," or bottom of the shaft, for
-winding up. It is requisite to have more than one
-shaft in the same workings; but where the coal lies so
-deep that the sinking of a distinct shaft requires an
-enormous outlay of capital, only one large shaft is
-sunk; and this is divided by wooden partitions, or
-brattices, into several distinct channels. There must
-always be one shaft or channel, called the "downcast
-pit," for the air to descend; and another, called the
-"upcast pit," for the return draught to ascend. The
-apparatus for lowering and drawing up is generally in
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
-the upcast shaft. This is either a steam-engine, a
-horse-gin, or a hand-crank. The thickness of the
-seams that are wrought varies from the eighteen-inch
-seams of the Lancashire and Yorkshire hills, to the ten-yard
-coal of South Staffordshire. But two, three, and
-four feet are the more common thicknesses of the beds
-that are wrought. When there is a good roof, or hard
-rock immediately over the coal, with a tolerably solid
-floor beneath it, thin coal-seams can be worked with
-advantage, because the outlay of capital for propping
-is then very limited; but the very hardness of the contiguous
-strata would require an outlay almost as great
-to make the roadways of a proper height for human
-beings of any age to work in.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">By the evidence collected under the commission, it is
-proved that there are coal-mines at present at work in
-which some passages are so small, that even the youngest
-children cannot move along them without crawling on
-their hands and feet, in which constrained position they
-drag the loaded carriages after them; and yet, as it is
-impossible by any outlay compatible with a profitable
-return, to render such coal-mines fit for human beings
-to work in, they never will be placed in such a condition,
-and, consequently, they never can be worked
-without this child slavery! When the roads are six
-feet high and upward, there is not only ample space
-for carrying on the general operations of the mine, but
-the coals can be drawn direct from the workings to the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
-foot of the shaft by the largest horses; and when the
-main roads are four feet and a half high, the coals may
-be conveyed to the foot of the shaft by ponies or asses.
-But when the main ways are under four feet, the coals
-can only be conveyed by children. Yet, in many mines,
-the main gates are only from twenty-four to thirty
-inches high. In this case, even the youngest children
-must work in a bent position of the body. When the
-inclination of the strata causes all the workings out of
-the main ways to be on inclined plains, the young
-labourers are not only almost worked to death, but exposed
-to severe accidents in descending the plains with
-their loads, out of one level into another. In many of
-the mines, there is such a want of drainage and ventilation,
-that fatal diseases are contracted by the miners.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">According to the report of the Parliamentary commission,
-about one-third of the persons employed in the
-coal-mines were under eighteen years of age, and much
-more than one-third of this number were under thirteen
-years of age. When the proprietor employs the whole
-of the hands, not only will his general overseer be a
-respectable person, but his underlookers will be taken
-from the more honest, intelligent, and industrious of
-the labouring colliers. Elsewhere, the rulers in pits
-are such as the rudest class is likely to produce. The
-great body of the children and young persons are,
-however, of the families of the adult work-people employed
-in the pits, or belong to the poor population of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
-the neighbourhood. But, in some districts, there are
-numerous defenceless creatures who pass the whole of
-their youth in the most abject slavery, into which they
-are thrown chiefly by parish authorities, under the
-name of apprenticeship. Said the Parliamentary commissioners
-in their report—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"There is one mode of engaging the labour of children and
-young persons in coal-mines, peculiar to a few districts, which
-deserves particular notice, viz. that by apprenticeship. The
-district in which the practice of employing apprentices is most in
-use, is South Staffordshire; it was formerly common in Shropshire,
-but is now discontinued; it is still common in Yorkshire,
-Lancashire, and the West of Scotland; in all the other districts, it
-appears to be unknown. In Staffordshire, the sub-commissioner
-states that the number of children and young persons working in
-the mines as apprentices is exceedingly numerous; that these
-apprentices are paupers or orphans, and are wholly in the power
-of the butties;<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>
-that such is the demand for this class of children
-by the butties, that there are scarcely any boys in the union
-workhouses of Walsall, Wolverhampton, Dudley, and Stourbridge;
-that these boys are sent on trial to the butties between the ages
-of eight and nine, and at nine are bound as apprentices for twelve
-years, that is, to the age of twenty-one years complete; that, notwithstanding
-this long apprenticeship, there is nothing whatever
-in the coal-mines to learn beyond a little dexterity, readily acquired
-by short practice; and that even in the mines of Cornwall,
-where much skill and judgment is required, there are no apprentices,
-while, in the coal-mines of South Staffordshire, the orphan
-whom necessity has driven into a workhouse, is made to labour
-in the mines until the age of twenty-one, solely for the benefit of
-another."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Thomas Moorhouse, a collier boy, who was brought
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>
-to the notice of the Parliamentary commissioners,
-said—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"I don't know how old I am; father is dead; I am a chance
-child; mother is dead also; I don't know how long she has been
-dead; 'tis better na three years; I began to hurry<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> when I was
-nine years old for William Greenwood; I was apprenticed to him
-till I should be twenty-one; my mother apprenticed me; I lived
-with Greenwood; I don't know how long it was, but it was a
-goodish while; he was bound to find me in victuals and drink
-and clothes; I never had enough; he gave me some old clothes
-to wear, which he bought at the rag-shop; the overseers gave him
-a sovereign to buy clothes with, but he never laid it out; the
-overseers bound me out with mother's consent from the township
-of Southowram; I ran away from him because he lost my indentures,
-for he served me very bad; he stuck a pick into me twice."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Here the boy was made to strip, and the commissioner,
-Mr. Symonds, found a large cicatrix likely to
-have been occasioned by such an instrument, which
-must have passed through the glutei muscles, and have
-stopped only short of the hip-joint. There were twenty
-other wounds, occasioned by hurrying in low workings,
-upon and around the spinous processes of the vertebræ,
-from the sacrum upward. The boy continued—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"He used to hit me with the belt, and mawl or sledge, and
-fling coals at me. He served me so bad that I left him, and went
-about to see if I could get a job. I used to sleep in the cabins
-upon the pit's bank, and in the old pits that had done working.
-I laid upon the shale all night. I used to get what I could to
-eat. I ate for a long time the candles that I found in the pits
-that the colliers left over night. I had nothing else to eat. I
-looked about for work, and begged of the people a bit. I got to
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>
-Bradford after a while, and had a job there for a month while a
-collier's lad was poorly. When he came back, I was obliged to
-leave."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Another case was related by Mr. Kennedy, one of
-the commissioners. A boy, named Edward Kershaw,
-had been apprenticed by the overseers of Castleton to
-a collier of the name of Robert Brierly, residing at
-Balsgate, who worked in a pit in the vicinity of Rooley
-Moor. The boy was examined, and from twenty-four
-to twenty-six wounds were found upon his body. His
-posteriors and loins were beaten to a jelly; his head,
-which was almost cleared of hair on the scalp, had the
-marks of many old wounds upon it which had healed
-up. One of the bones in one arm was broken below
-the elbow, and, from appearances, seemed to have been
-so for some time. The boy, on being brought before
-the magistrates, was unable either to sit or stand, and
-was placed on the floor of the office, laid on his side on
-a small cradle-bed. It appears from the evidence, that
-the boy's arm had been broken by a blow with an iron
-rail, and the fracture had never been set, and that he
-had been kept at work for several weeks with his arm
-in the condition above described. It further appeared
-in evidence, and was admitted by Brierly, that he had
-been in the habit of beating the boy with a flat piece
-of wood, in which a nail was driven and projected about
-half an inch. The blows had been inflicted with such
-violence that they penetrated the skin, and caused the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
-wounds above mentioned. The body of the boy presented
-all the marks of emaciation. This brutal master
-had kept the boy at work as a wagoner until he was no
-longer of any use, and then sent him home in a cart to
-his mother, who was a poor widow, residing in Church
-lane, Rochdale. And yet it is said that a slave cannot
-breathe the air of England!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The want of instruction, and the seclusion from the
-rest of the world, which is common to the colliers, give
-them a sad pre-eminence over every other class of
-labourers, in ignorance and callousness; and when they
-are made masters, what can be expected? In all cases
-of apprenticeship, the children are bound till they
-attain the age of twenty-one years. If the master dies
-before the apprentice attains the age of twenty-one
-years, the apprentice is equally bound as the servant
-of his deceased master's heirs, executors, administrators,
-and assigns. In fact, the apprentice is part of the
-deceased master's goods and chattels!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">But, to speak more particularly of the labour of the
-children:—The employment of the adult collier is almost
-exclusively in the "getting" of the coal from its
-natural resting-place, of which there are various methods,
-according to the nature of the seams and the
-habits of the several districts. That of the children
-and young persons consists principally either in tending
-the air-doors where the coal-carriages must pass through
-openings, the immediately subsequent stoppage of which
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
-is necessary to preserve the ventilation in its proper
-channels, or in the conveyance of the coal from the
-bays or recesses in which it is hewn, along the subterranean
-roadways, to the bottom of the pit-shaft; a
-distance varying from absolute contiguity even to miles,
-in the great coal-fields of the North of England, where
-the depth requires that the same expensive shaft shall
-serve for the excavation of a large tract of coal. The
-earliest employment of children in the pits is generally
-to open and shut the doors, upon the proper custody of
-which the ventilation and safety of the whole mine
-depends. These little workmen are called "trappers."
-Of the manner in which they pass their earlier days,
-Dr. Mitchell, a distinguished Englishman, has given a
-very interesting sketch, which deserves to be quoted
-here entire:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The little trapper, of eight years of age, lies quiet in bed. It
-is now between two and three in the morning, and his mother
-shakes him and desires him to rise, and tells him that his father
-has an hour ago gone off to the pit. He turns on his side, rubs
-his eyes, and gets up, and comes to the blazing fire and puts on
-his clothes. His coffee, such as it is, stands by the side of the
-fire, and bread is laid down for him. The fortnight is now well
-advanced, the money all spent, and butter, bacon, and other
-luxurious accompaniments of bread, are not to be had at breakfast
-till next pay-day supply the means. He then fills his tin
-bottle with coffee and takes a lump of bread, sets out for the pit,
-into which he goes down in the cage, and walking along the
-horse-way for upward of a mile, he reaches the barrow-way, over
-which the young men and boys push the trams with the tubs on
-rails to the flats, where the barrow-way and horse-way meet, and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
-where the tubs are transferred to rolleys or carriages drawn by
-horses.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_036.jpg" id="i_036.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_036.jpg"
- alt="" />
- <div class="caption">THRUSTERS AND TRAPPER.</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">"He knows his place of work. It is inside one of the doors
-called trap-doors, which is in the barrow-way, for the purpose of
-forcing the stream of air which passes in its long, many-miled
-course from the down-shaft to the up-shaft of the pit; but which
-door must be opened whenever men or boys, with or without carriages,
-may wish to pass through. He seats himself in a little
-hole, about the size of a common fireplace, and with the string in
-his hand; and all his work is to pull that string when he has to
-open the door, and when man or boy has passed through, then
-to allow the door to shut of itself. Here it is his duty to sit, and
-be attentive, and pull his string promptly as any one approaches.
-He may not stir above a dozen steps with safety from his charge,
-lest he should be found neglecting his duty, and suffer for the
-same.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"He sits solitary by himself, and has no one to talk to him;
-for in the pit the whole of the people, men and boys, are as busy
-as if they were in a sea-fight. He, however, sees now and then
-the putters urging forward their trams through his gate, and
-derives some consolation from the glimmer of the little candle of
-about 40 to the pound, which is fixed on their trams. For he
-himself has no light. His hours, except at such times, are passed
-in total darkness. For the first week of his service in the pit
-his father had allowed him candles to light one after another,
-but the expense of three halfpence a day was so extravagant
-expenditure out of tenpence, the boy's daily wages, that his
-father, of course, withdrew the allowance the second week, all
-except one or two candles in the morning, and the week after the
-allowance was altogether taken away; and now, except a neighbour
-kinder than his father now and then drop him a candle as
-he passes, the boy has no light of his own.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Thus hour after hour passes away; but what are hours to
-him, seated in darkness, in the bowels of the earth? He knows
-nothing of the ascending or descending sun. Hunger, however,
-though silent and unseen, acts upon him, and he betakes to his
-bottle of coffee and slice of bread; and, if desirous, he may have
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
-the luxury of softening it in a portion of water in the pit, which
-is brought down for man and beast.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In this state of sepulchral existence, an insidious enemy gains
-upon him. His eyes are shut, and his ears fail to announce the
-approach of a tram. A deputy overman comes along, and a
-smart cut of his yardwand at once punishes the culprit and recalls
-him to his duty; and happy was it for him that he fell into
-the hands of the deputy overman, rather than one of the putters;
-for his fist would have inflicted a severer pain. The deputy
-overman moreover consoles him by telling him that it was for his
-good that he punished him; and reminds him of boys, well known
-to both, who, when asleep, had fallen down, and some had been
-severely wounded, and others killed. The little trapper believes
-that he is to blame, and makes no complaint, for he dreads being
-discharged; and he knows that his discharge would be attended
-with the loss of wages, and bring upon him the indignation of
-his father, more terrible to endure than the momentary vengeance
-of the deputy and the putters all taken together.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Such is the day-work of the little trapper in the barrow-way.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"At last, the joyful sound of 'Loose, loose,' reaches his ears.
-The news of its being four o'clock, and of the order, 'Loose, loose,'
-having been shouted down the shaft, is by systematic arrangement
-sent for many miles in all directions round the farthest
-extremities of the pit. The trapper waits until the last putter
-passes with his tram, and then he follows and pursues his journey
-to the foot of the shaft, and takes an opportunity of getting into
-the cage and going up when he can. By five o'clock he may
-probably get home. Here he finds a warm dinner, baked potatoes,
-and broiled bacon lying above them. He eats heartily at the
-warm fire, and sits a little after. He dare not go out to play
-with other boys, for the more he plays the more he is sure to
-sleep the next day in the pit. He, therefore, remains at home,
-until, feeling drowsy, he then repeats the prayer taught by our
-blessed Lord, takes off his clothes, is thoroughly washed in hot
-water by his mother, and is laid in his bed."</p></div>
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_038.jpg" id="i_038.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_038.jpg"
- alt="" />
- <div class="caption">HURRIER AND THRUSTER.</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">The evidence of the Parliamentary commissioners
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
-proves that Dr. Mitchell has given the life of the young
-trapper a somewhat softened colouring. Mr. Scriven
-states that the children employed in this way become
-almost idiotic from the long, dark, solitary confinement.
-Many of them never see the light of day during the
-winter season, except on Sundays.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The loaded corves drawn by the hurriers weigh from
-two to five hundred-weight. These carriages are mounted
-upon four cast-iron wheels of five inches in diameter,
-there being, in general, no rails from the headings to the
-main gates. The children have to drag these carriages
-through passages in some cases not more than from
-sixteen to twenty inches in height. Of course, to accomplish
-this, the young children must crawl on their
-hands and feet. To render their labour the more easy,
-the sub-commissioner states that they buckle round
-their naked person a broad leather strap, to which is
-attached in front a ring and about four feet of chain,
-terminating in a hook. As soon as they enter the main
-gates, they detach the harness from the corve, change
-their position by getting behind it, and become "thrusters."
-The carriage is then placed upon the rail, a
-candle is stuck fast by a piece of wet clay, and away
-they run with amazing swiftness to the shaft, pushing
-the loads with their heads and hands. The younger
-children thrust in pairs.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"After trapping," says the report of the commissioners, "the
-next labour in the ascending scale to which the children are put, is
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
-'thrutching,' or thrusting, which consists in being helper to a
-'drawer,' or 'wagoner,' who is master, or 'butty,' over the
-'thrutcher,' In some pits, the thrutcher has his head protected
-by a thick cap, and he will keep on his trousers and clogs; but
-in others, he works nearly naked. The size of the loads which
-he has to thrutch varies with the thickness of the seam; and with
-the size, varies his butty's method of proceeding, which is either
-as a drawer or a wagoner. The drawers are those who use the
-belt and chain. Their labour consists in loading, with the coals
-hewn down by the 'getter,' an oblong tub without wheels, and
-dragging this tub on its sledge bottom by means of a girdle of
-rough leather passing round the body, and a chain of iron attached
-to that girdle in front, and hooked to the sledge. The drawer
-has, with the aid of his thrutcher, to sledge the tub in this manner
-from the place of getting to the mainway, generally down,
-though sometimes up, a brow or incline of the same steepness as
-the inclination of the strata; in descending which he goes to the
-front of his tub, where his light is fixed, and, turning his face to
-it, regulates its motion down the hill, as, proceeding back foremost,
-he pulls it along by his belt. When he gets to the mainway,
-which will be at various distances not exceeding forty or
-fifty yards from his loading-place, he has to leave this tub upon a
-low truck running on small iron wheels, and then to go and fetch
-a second, which will complete its load, and with these two to
-join with his thrutcher in pushing it along the iron railway to
-the pit bottom to have the tubs successively hooked on to the
-drawing-rope. Returning with his tubs empty, he leaves the
-mainway, first with one, and then with the other tub, to get
-them loaded, dragging them up the 'brow' by his belt and chain,
-the latter of which he now passes between his legs, so as to pull,
-face foremost, on all fours. In the thin seams, this labour has
-to be performed in bays, leading from the place of getting to the
-mainways, of scarcely more than twenty inches in height, and in
-mainways of only two feet six inches, and three feet high, for the
-seam itself will only be eighteen inches thick.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Wagoning is a form of drawing which comes into use with
-the more extensive employment of railways in the thicker seams
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>.
-The tubs here used are large, and all mounted on wheels. From
-the place of getting, the loads are pushed by the wagoners with
-hands and heads to the bottom of the pit along the levels; and
-where they have to descend from one level into another, this is
-generally done by a cut at right angles directly with the dip,
-down the 'brow' which it makes. Here there is a winch or
-pinion for jigging the wagons down the incline, with a jigger at
-the top and a hooker-on at the bottom of the plane, where it is
-such as to require these. The jiggers and the hookers-on are
-children of twelve or thirteen. Sometimes the descent from one
-line of level into another is by a diagonal cutting at a small
-angle from the levels, called a slant, down which the wagoners
-can, and do, in some instances, take their wagons without jigging,
-by their own manual labour; and a very rough process it is,
-owing to the impetus which so great a weight acquires, notwithstanding
-the scotching of the wheels."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Kennedy thus describes the position of the children,
-in the combined drawing and thrutching:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The child in front is harnessed by his belt or chain to the
-wagon; the two boys behind are assisting in pushing it forward.
-Their heads, it will be observed, are brought down to a level with
-the wagon, and the body almost in the horizontal position. This
-is done partly to avoid striking the roof, and partly to gain the
-advantage of the muscular action, which is greatest in that position.
-It will be observed, the boy in front goes on his hands and
-feet: in that manner, the whole weight of his body is, in fact,
-supported by the chain attached to the wagon and his feet, and,
-consequently, his power of drawing is greater than it would be
-if he crawled on his knees. These boys, by constantly pushing
-against the wagons, occasionally rub off the hair from the crowns
-of their heads so much as to make them almost bald."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In Derbyshire, some of the pits are altogether worked
-by boys. The seams are so thin, that several have
-only a two-feet headway to all the workings. The boy
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
-who gets the coal, lies on his side while at work. The
-coal is then loaded in a barrow, or tub, and drawn
-along the bank to the pit mouth by boys from eight to
-twelve years of age, on all fours, with a dog-belt and
-chain, the passages being very often an inch or two
-thick in black mud, and neither ironed nor wooded.
-In Mr. Barnes's pit, these boys have to drag the barrows
-with one hundred-weight of coal or slack, sixty times a
-day, sixty yards, and the empty barrows back, without
-once straightening their backs, unless they choose to
-stand under the shaft and run the risk of having their
-heads broken by coal falling.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In some of the mines, the space of the workings is
-so small that the adult colliers are compelled to carry
-on their operations in a stooping posture; and, in others,
-they are obliged to work lying their whole length along
-the uneven floor, and supporting their heads upon a
-board or short crutch. In these low, dark, heated,
-and dismal chambers, they work perfectly naked. In
-many of the thin-seam mines, the labour of "getting"
-coal, so severe for adults, was found by the commissioners
-to be put upon children from nine to twelve
-years of age.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">If the employment of boys in such a way be, as a
-miner said to the commissioners, "barbarity, barbarity,"
-what are we to think of the slavery of female children
-in the same abyss of darkness? How shall we express
-our feelings upon learning that females, in the years
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
-of opening womanhood, are engaged in the same occupations
-as their male companions, in circumstances
-repugnant to the crudest sense of decency? Yet we
-have unimpeachable evidence that, at the time of the
-investigations of the commissioners, females were thus
-employed; and there is reason to believe that this is
-still the case.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_042.jpg" id="i_042.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_042.jpg"
- alt="" />
- <div class="caption">COAL GETTER.</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">The commissioners found females employed like the
-males in the labours of the mines in districts of Yorkshire
-and Lancashire, in the East of Scotland, and in
-Wales. In great numbers of the pits visited, the men
-were working in a state of entire nakedness, and were
-assisted by females of all ages, from girls of six years
-old to women of twenty-one—these females being
-themselves quite naked down to the waist. Mr.
-Thomas Pearce says that in the West Riding of Yorkshire—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The girls hurry with a belt and chain, as well as thrust.
-There are as many girls as boys employed about here. One of
-the most disgusting sights I have ever seen, was that of young
-females, dressed like boys in trousers, crawling on all fours, with
-belts around their waists and chains passing between their legs,
-at day-pits at Thurshelf Bank, and in many small pits near
-Holmfirth and New Mills. It exists also in several other places."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In the neighbourhood of Halifax, it is stated that
-there is no distinction whatever between the boys and
-girls in their coming up the shaft and going down; in
-their mode of hurrying or thrusting; in the weight of
-corves; in the distance they are hurried; in wages or
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
-dress; that the girls associate and labour with men who
-are in a state of nakedness, and that they have themselves
-no other garment than a ragged shift, or, in the
-absence of that, a pair of broken trousers, to cover their
-persons.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Here are specimens of the evidence taken by the
-commissioners:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Susan Pitchforth, aged eleven, Elland: 'I have worked in
-this pit going two years. I have one sister going of fourteen,
-and she works with me in the pit. I am a thruster.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'This child,' said the sub-commissioner, 'stood shivering
-before me from cold. The rags that hung about her waist were
-once called a shift, which was as black as the coal she thrust,
-and saturated with water—the drippings of the roof and shaft.
-During my examination of her, the banksman, whom I had left
-in the pit, came to the public-house and wanted to take her away,
-because, as he expressed himself, it was not decent that she
-should be exposed to us.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Patience Kershaw, aged seventeen: 'I hurry in the clothes
-I have now got on, (trousers and ragged jacket;) the bald place
-upon my head is made by thrusting the corves; the getters I
-work for are naked except their caps; they pull off their clothes;
-all the men are naked.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mary Barrett, aged fourteen: 'I work always without stockings,
-or shoes, or trousers; I wear nothing but my shift; I have
-to go up to the headings with the men; they are all naked there;
-I am got well used to that, and don't care much about it; I was
-afraid at first, and did not like it.'"</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the Lancashire coal-fields lying to the north and west of
-Manchester, females are regularly employed in underground
-labour; and the brutal policy of the men, and the abasement of
-the women, is well described by some of the witnesses examined
-by Mr. Kennedy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Peter Gaskill, collier, at Mr. Lancaster's, near Worsley:
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>
-'Prefers women to boys as drawers; they are better to manage,
-and keep the time better; they will fight and shriek and do every
-thing but let anybody pass them; and they never get to be coal-getters—that
-is another good thing.'</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_045.jpg" id="i_045.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_045.jpg"
- alt="" />
- <div class="caption">GIRL WITH COAL CART IN THIN SEAM.</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">"Betty Harris, aged thirty-seven, drawer in a coal-pit, Little
-Bolton: 'I have a belt round my waist and a chain passing between
-my legs, and I go on my hands and feet. The road is very
-steep, and we have to hold by a rope, and when there is no rope,
-by any thing we can catch hold of. There are six women and
-about six boys and girls in the pit I work in; it is very hard
-work for a woman. The pit is very wet where I work, and the
-water comes over our clog-tops always, and I have seen it up to
-my thighs; it rains in at the roof terribly; my clothes are wet
-through almost all day long. I never was ill in my life but
-when I was lying-in. My cousin looks after my children in the
-daytime. I am very tired when I get home at night; I fall asleep
-sometimes before I get washed. I am not so strong as I was,
-and cannot stand my work so well as I used to do. I have drawn
-till I have had the skin off me. The belt and chain is worse when
-we are in the family-way. My feller (husband) has beaten me
-many a time for not being ready. I were not used to it at first,
-and he had little patience; I have known many a man beat his
-drawer.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mary Glover, aged thirty-eight, at Messrs. Foster's, Ringley
-Bridge: 'I went into a coal-pit when I was seven years old, and
-began by being a drawer. I never worked much in the pit when
-I was in the family-way, but since I have gave up having children,
-I have begun again a bit. I wear a shift and a pair of
-trousers when at work. I always will have a good pair of trousers.
-I have had many a twopence given me by the boatmen on
-the canal to show my breeches. I never saw women work naked,
-but I have seen men work without breeches in the neighbourhood
-of Bolton. I remember seeing a man who worked stark naked.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In the East of Scotland, the business of the females
-is to remove the coals from the hewer who has picked
-them from the wall-face, and placing them either on
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
-their backs, which they invariably do when working in
-edge-seams, or in <i>little carts</i> when on levels, to carry
-them to the main road, where they are conveyed to the
-pit bottom, where, being emptied into the ascending
-basket of the shaft, they are wound by machinery to
-the pit's mouth, where they lie heaped for further distribution.
-Mr. Franks, an Englishman, says of this
-barbarous toil—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Now when the nature of this horrible labour is taken into
-consideration; its extreme severity; its regular duration of from
-twelve to fourteen hours daily; the damp, heated, and unwholesome
-atmosphere of a coal-mine, and the tender age and sex of
-the workers, a picture is presented of deadly physical oppression
-and systematic slavery, of which I conscientiously believe no one
-unacquainted with such facts would credit the existence in the
-British dominions."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The loads of coal carried on the backs of females
-vary in weight from three-quarters of a hundred-weight
-to three hundred-weight. In working edge-seams, or
-highly inclined beds, the load must be borne to the
-surface, or to the pit-bottom, up winding stairs, or a
-succession of steep ladders. The disgrace of this peculiar
-form of oppression is said to be confined to
-Scotland, "where, until nearly the close of the last
-century, the colliers remained in a state of legal bondage,
-and formed a degraded caste, apart from all humanizing
-influences and sympathy." From all accounts,
-they are not much improved in condition at the present
-time.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">A sub-commissioner thus describes a female child's
-labour in a Scottish mine, and gives some of the evidence
-he obtained:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"She has first to descend a nine-ladder pit to the first rest,
-even to which a shaft is sunk, to draw up the baskets or tubs of
-coals filled by the bearers; she then takes her creel (a basket
-formed to the back, not unlike a cockle-shell, flattened toward
-the back of the neck, so as to allow lumps of coal to rest on the
-back of the neck and shoulders,) and pursues her journey to the
-wall-face, or, as it is called here, the room of work. She then
-lays down her basket, into which the coal is rolled, and it is frequently
-more than one man can do to lift the burden on her back.
-The tugs or straps are placed over the forehead, and the body
-bent in a semicircular form, in order to stiffen the arch. Large
-lumps of coal are then placed on the neck, and she then commences
-her journey with her burden to the bottom, first hanging
-her lamp to the cloth crossing her head. In this girl's case, she
-has first to travel about fourteen fathoms (eighty-four feet) from
-wall-face to the first ladder, which is eighteen feet high; leaving
-the first ladder, she proceeds along the main road, probably three
-feet six inches to four feet six inches high, to the second ladder,
-eighteen feet high; so on to the third and fourth ladders, till she
-reaches the pit-bottom, where she casts her load, varying from
-one hundred-weight to one hundred-weight and a half, in the tub.
-This one journey is designated a rake; the height ascended, and
-the distance along the roads added together, exceed the height of
-St. Paul's Cathedral; and it not unfrequently happens that the
-tugs break, and the load falls upon those females who are following.
-However incredible it may be, yet I have taken the evidence
-of fathers who have ruptured themselves from straining to
-lift coal on their children's backs.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Janet Cumming, eleven years old, bears coals: 'I gang with
-the women at five, and come up with the women at five at night;
-work <i>all night</i> on Fridays, and come away at twelve in the day.
-I carry the large bits of coal from the wall-face to the pit-bottom,
-and the small pieces called chows in a creel. The weight is
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
-usually a hundred-weight, does not know how many pounds
-there are in a hundred-weight, but it is some weight to carry; it
-takes three journeys to fill a tub of four hundred-weight. The
-distance varies, as the work is not always on the same wall;
-sometimes one hundred and fifty fathoms, whiles two hundred
-and fifty fathoms. The roof is very low; I have to bend my back
-and legs, and the water comes frequently up to the calves of my
-legs. Has no liking for the work; father makes me like it.
-Never got hurt, but often obliged to scramble out of the pit when
-bad air was in.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"William Hunter, mining oversman, Arniston Colliery: 'I
-have been twenty years in the works of Robert Dundas, Esq.,
-and had much experience in the manner of drawing coal, as well
-as the habits and practices of the collier people. Until the last
-eight months, women and lasses were wrought below in these
-works, when Mr. Alexander Maxton, our manager, issued an
-order to exclude them from going below, having some months
-prior given intimation of the same. Women always did the
-lifting or heavy part of the work, and neither they nor the children
-were treated like human beings, nor are they where they
-are employed. Females submit to work in places where no man
-or even lad could be got to labour in; they work in bad roads,
-up to their knees in water, in a posture nearly double; they are
-below till the last hour of pregnancy; they have swelled haunches
-and ankles, and are prematurely brought to the grave, or, what
-is worse, lingering existence. Many of the daughters of the
-miners are now at respectable service. I have two who are in
-families at Leith, and who are much delighted with the change.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Robert Bald, Esq., the eminent coal-viewer, states that, 'In
-surveying the workings of an extensive colliery under ground, a
-married woman came forward, groaning under an excessive
-weight of coals, trembling in every nerve, and almost unable to
-keep her knees from sinking under her. On coming up, she
-said, in a plaintive and melancholy voice, "Oh, sir, this is sore,
-sore, sore work. I wish to God that the first woman who tried
-to bear coals had broke her back, and none would have tried it
-again."</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The boxes or carriages employed in putting are of
-two kinds—the hutchie and the slype; the hutchie being
-an oblong, square-sided box with four wheels, which
-usually runs on a rail; and the slype a wood-framed
-box, curved and shod with iron at the bottom, holding
-from two and a quarter to five hundred-weight of coal,
-adapted to the seams through which it is dragged. The
-lad or lass is harnessed over the shoulders and back
-with a strong leathern girth, which, behind, is furnished
-with an iron-hook, which is attached to a chain fastened
-to the coal-cart or slype. The dresses of these girls
-are made of coarse hempen stuff, fitting close to the
-figures; the coverings to their heads are made of the
-same material. Little or no flannel is used, and their
-clothing, being of an absorbent nature, frequently gets
-completely saturated shortly after descending the pit.
-We quote more of the evidence obtained by the commissioners.
-It scarcely needs any comment:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Margaret Hipps, seventeen years old, putter, Stoney Rigg
-Colliery, Stirlingshire: 'My employment, after reaching the
-wall-face, is to fill my bagie, or slype, with two and a half to
-three hundred-weight of coal. I then hook it on to my chain and
-drag it through the seam, which is twenty-six to twenty-eight inches
-high, till I get to the main road—a good distance, probably two
-hundred to four hundred yards. The pavement I drag over is
-wet, and I am obliged at all times to crawl on hands and feet with
-my bagie hung to the chain and ropes. It is sad sweating and
-sore fatiguing work, and frequently maims the women.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Sub-commissioner: 'It is almost incredible that human beings
-can submit to such employment, crawling on hands and knees,
-harnessed like horses, over soft, slushy floors, more difficult than
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
-dragging the same weights through our lowest common sewers,
-and more difficult in consequence of the inclination, which is frequently
-one in three to one in six.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Agnes Moffatt, seventeen years old, coal-bearer: 'Began
-working at ten years of age; father took sister and I down; he
-gets our wages. I fill five baskets; the weight is more than
-twenty-two hundred-weight; it takes me twenty journeys. The
-work is o'er sair for females. It is no uncommon for women to
-lose their burden, and drop off the ladder down the dyke below;
-Margaret McNeil did a few weeks since, and injured both legs.
-When the tugs which pass over the forehead break, which they
-frequently do, it is very dangerous to be under with a load.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Margaret Jacques, seventeen years of age, coal-bearer: 'I
-have been seven years at coal-bearing; it is horrible sore work;
-it was not my choice, but we do our parents' will. I make thirty
-rakes a day, with two hundred-weight of coal on my creel. It is
-a guid distance I journey, and very dangerous on parts of the
-road. The distance fast increases as the coals are cut down.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Helen Reid, sixteen years old, coal-bearer: 'I have wrought
-five years in the mines in this part; my employment is carrying
-coal. Am frequently worked from four in the morning until six
-at night. I work night-work week about, (alternate weeks.) I
-then go down at two in the day, and come up at four and six in
-the morning. I can carry near two hundred-weight <i>on</i> my back.
-I do not like the work. Two years since the pit closed upon
-thirteen of us, and we were two days without food or light; nearly
-one day we were up to our chins in water. At last we got to an
-old shaft, to which we picked our way, and were heard by
-people watching above. Two months ago, I was filling the tubs
-at the pit bottom, when the gig clicked too early, and the hook
-caught me by my pit-clothes—the people did not hear my shrieks—my
-hand had fast grappled the chain, and the great height of
-the shaft caused me to lose my courage, and I swooned. The
-banksman could scarcely remove my hand—the deadly grasp
-saved my life.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Margaret Drysdale, fifteen years old, coal-putter: 'I don't
-like the work, but mother is dead, and father brought me down;
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
-I had no choice. The lasses will tell you that they all like the
-work fine, as they think you are going to take them out of the
-pits. My employment is to draw the carts. I have harness, or
-draw-ropes on, like the horses, and pull the carts. Large carts
-hold seven hundred-weight and a half, the smaller five hundred-weight
-and a half. The roads are wet, and I have to draw the
-work about one hundred fathoms.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Katherine Logan, sixteen years old, coal-putter: 'Began to
-work at coal-carrying more than five years since; works in harness
-now; draw backward with face to tubs; the ropes and
-chains go under my pit-clothes; it is o'er sair work, especially
-where we crawl.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Janet Duncan, seventeen years old, coal-putter: 'Works at
-putting, and was a coal-bearer at Hen-Muir Pit and New Pencaitland.
-The carts I push contain three hundred-weight of coal,
-being a load and a half; it is very severe work, especially when
-we have to stay before the tubs, on the braes, to prevent them
-coming down too fast; they frequently run too quick, and knock
-us down; when they run over fast, we fly off the roads and let them
-go, or we should be crushed. Mary Peacock was severely crushed
-a fortnight since; is gradually recovering. I have wrought above
-in harvest time; it is the only other work that ever I tried my
-hand at, and having harvested for three seasons, am able to say
-that the hardest daylight work is infinitely superior to the best
-of coal-work.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Jane Wood, wife of James Wood, formerly a coal-drawer and
-bearer: 'Worked below more than thirty years. I have two
-daughters below, who really hate the employment, and often
-prayed to leave, but we canna do well without them just now.
-The severe work causes women much trouble; they frequently
-have premature births. Jenny McDonald, a neighbour, was laid
-idle six months; and William King's wife lately died from miscarriage,
-and a vast of women suffer from similar causes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Margaret Boxter, fifty years old, coal-hewer: 'I hew the
-coal; have done so since my husband failed in his breath; he has
-been off work twelve years. I have a son, daughter, and niece
-working with me below, and we have sore work to get maintenance.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
-I go down early to hew the coal for my girls to draw;
-my son hews also. The work is not fit for women, and men
-could prevent it were they to labour more regular; indeed, men
-about this place don't wish wives to work in mines, but the
-masters seem to encourage it—at any rate, the masters never
-interfere to prevent it.'"</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The different kinds of work to which females are put in South
-Wales, are described in the following evidence:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Henrietta Frankland, eleven years old, drammer: 'When
-well, I draw the drams, (carts,) which contain four to five hundred-weight
-of coal, from the heads to the main road; I make
-forty-eight to fifty journeys; sister, who is two years older, works
-also at dramming; the work is very hard, and the long hours
-before the pay-day fatigue us much. The mine is wet where we
-work, as the water passes through the roof, and the workings are
-only thirty to thirty-three inches high.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mary Reed, twelve years old, air-door keeper: 'Been five
-years in the Plymouth mine. Never leaves till the last dram
-(cart) is drawn past by the horse. Works from six till four or
-five at night. Has run home very hungry; runs along the level
-or hangs on a cart as it passes. Does not like the work in the
-dark; would not mind the daylight work.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Hannah Bowen, sixteen years old, windlass-woman: 'Been
-down two years; it is good hard work; work from seven in the
-morning till three or four in the afternoon at hauling the windlass.
-Can draw up four hundred loads of one hundred-weight
-and a half to four hundred-weight each.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Ann Thomas, sixteen years old, windlass-woman: 'Finds
-the work very hard; two women always work the windlass
-below ground. We wind up eight hundred loads. Men do not
-like the winding, <i>it is too hard work for them</i>.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The commissioners ascertained that when the work-people
-were in full employment, the regular hours for
-children and young persons were rarely less than
-eleven; more often they were twelve; in some districts,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>
-they are thirteen; and, in one district, they are generally
-fourteen and upward. In Derbyshire, south of
-Chesterfield, from thirteen to sixteen hours are considered
-a day's work. Of the exhausting effects of such
-labour for so long a time, we shall scarcely need any
-particular evidence. But one boy, named John Bostock,
-told the commissioners that he had often been
-made to work until he was so tired as to lie down on
-his road home until twelve o'clock, when his mother
-had come and led him home; and that he had sometimes
-been so tired that he could not eat his dinner,
-but had been beaten and made to work until night.
-Many other cases are recorded:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"John Rawson, collier, aged forty: 'I work at Mr. Sorby's
-pit, Handsworth. I think the children are worked overmuch
-sometimes.'—<i>Report</i>, No. 81, p. 243, 1. 25.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Peter Waring, collier, Billingby: 'I never should like my
-children to go in. They are not beaten; it is the work that hurts
-them; it is mere slavery, and nothing but it.'—Ibid. No. 125,
-p. 256, 1. 6.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Hargreave, collier, Thorpe's Colliery: 'Hurrying is
-heavy work for children. They ought not to work till they are
-twelve years old, and then put two together for heavy corves.'—Ibid.
-No. 130, p. 256, 1. 44.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Timothy Marshall, collier, aged thirty-five, Darton: 'I
-think the hurrying is what hurts girls, and it is too hard work
-for their strength; I think that children cannot be educated after
-they once get to work in pits; they are both tired and even disinclined
-to learn when they have done work.'—Ibid. No. 141, p.
-262, 1. 39.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"A collier at Mr. Travis's pit: 'The children get but little
-schooling; six or seven out of nine or ten know nothing. They
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>
-never go to night-schools, except some odd ones. When the
-children get home, they cannot go to school, for they have to be
-up so early in the morning—soon after four—and they cannot do
-without rest.'—Ibid. No. 94, p. 246, 1. 33.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. George Armitage, aged thirty-six, formerly collier at
-Silkstone, now teacher at Hayland School: 'Little can be learnt
-merely on Sundays, and they are too tired as well as indisposed
-to go to night-schools. I am decidedly of opinion that when
-trade is good, the work of hurriers is generally continuous; but
-when there are two together, perhaps the little one will have a
-rest while the big one is filling or riddling.'—Ibid., No. 138, p.
-261, 1. 24.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"William Firth, between six and seven years old, Deal Wood
-Pit, Flockton: 'I hurry with my sister. I don't like to be in pit.
-I was crying to go out this morning. It tires me a good deal.'—Ibid.
-No. 218, p. 282, 1. 11.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Wright, hurrier in Thorpe's colliery: 'I shall be nine
-years old next Whitsuntide. It tires me much. It tires my
-arms. I have been two years in the pit, and have been hurrying
-all the time. It tries the small of my arms.'—Ibid. No. 129, p.
-256, 1. 31.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Daniel Dunchfield: 'I am going in ten; I am more tired in
-the forenoon than at night; it makes my back ache; I work all
-day the same as the other boys; I rest me when I go home at
-night; I never go to play at night; I get my supper and go to bed.'—Ibid.
-No. 63, p. 238, 1. 32.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"George Glossop, aged twelve: 'I help to fill and hurry, and am
-always tired at night when I've done.'—Ibid. No. 50, p. 236, 1. 21.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Martin Stanley: 'I tram by myself, and find it very hard
-work. It tires me in my legs and shoulders every day.'—Ibid.
-No. 69, p. 240, 1. 27.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Charles Hoyle: 'I was thirteen last January. I work in the
-thin coal-pit. I find it very hard work. We work at night one
-week, and in the day the other. It tires me very much sometimes.
-It tires us most in the legs, especially when we have to
-go on our hands and feet. I fill as well as hurry.'—Ibid. No. 78,
-p. 242, 1. 41.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Jonathan Clayton, thirteen and a half years old, Soap Work
-Colliery, Sheffield: 'Hurrying is very hard work; when I got
-home at night, I was knocked up.'—Ibid. No. 6, p. 227, 1. 48.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Andrew Roger, aged seventeen years: 'I work for my father,
-who is an undertaker. I get, and have been getting two years.
-I find it very hard work indeed; it tires me very much; I can
-hardly get washed of a night till nine o'clock, I am so tired.'—Ibid.
-No. 60, p. 237, 1. 49.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">["'This witness,' says the sub-commissioner, 'when examined
-in the evening after his work was over, ached so much that he
-could not stand upright.']—Ibid. s. 109; App. pt. i. p. 181.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Joseph Reynard, aged nineteen, Mr. Stancliffe's pit, Mirfield:
-'I began hurrying when I was nine; I get now; I cannot hurry,
-because one leg is shorter than the other. I have had my hip
-bad since I was fifteen. I am very tired at nights. I worked in
-a wet place to-day. I have worked in places as wet as I have
-been in to-day.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">["'I examined Joseph Reynard; he has several large abscesses
-in his thigh, from hip-joint disease. The thigh-bone is dislocated
-from the same cause; the leg is about three inches shorter; two
-or three of the abscesses are now discharging. No appearance of
-puberty from all the examinations I made. I should not think
-him more than eleven or twelve years of age, except from his
-teeth. I think him quite unfit to follow any occupation, much
-less the one he now occupies.</p>
-
-<p class="ar">
-Signed, "'<span class="sc">U. Bradbury</span>, Surgeon.']
-</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'This case,' says the sub-commissioner, 'is one reflecting the
-deepest discredit on his employers.'—<i>Symons, Evidence</i>, No. 272;
-App. pt. i. p. 298, 1. 29.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Elizabeth Eggley, sixteen years old: 'I find my work very
-much too hard for me. I hurry alone. It tires me in my arms
-and back most. I am sure it is very hard work, and tires
-us very much; it is too hard work for girls to do. We sometimes
-go to sleep before we get to bed.'—Ibid. No. 114, p. 252,
-1. 44.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Ann Wilson, aged ten and a half years, Messrs. Smith's
-colliery: 'Sometimes the work tires us when we have a good bit
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
-to do; it tires we in my back. I hurry by myself. I push with
-my head.'—Ibid. No. 229, p. 224, 1. 12.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Elizabeth Day, hurrier, Messrs. Hopwood's pit, Barnsley:
-'It is very hard work for us all. It is harder work than we
-ought to do, a deal. I have been lamed in my back, and strained
-in my back.'—Ibid. No. 80, p. 244, 1. 33.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mary Shaw: 'I am nineteen years old. I hurry in the pit
-you were in to-day. I have ever been much tired with my work.'—Ibid.
-No. 123, p. 249, 1. 38.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Ann Eggley, hurrier in Messrs. Thorpe's colliery: 'The
-work is far too hard for me; the sweat runs off me all over sometimes.
-I am very tired at night. Sometimes when we get home
-at night, we have not power to wash us, and then we go to bed.
-Sometimes we fall asleep in the chair. Father said last night it
-was both a shame and a disgrace for girls to work as we do, but
-there was nought else for us to do. The girls are always tired.'—Ibid.
-No. 113, p. 252, 1. 17.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Elizabeth Coats: 'I hurry with my brother. It tires me a
-great deal, and tires my back and arms.'—Ibid. No. 115, p. 252,
-1. 59.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Elizabeth Ibbitson, at Mr. Harrison's pit, Gomersel: 'I don't
-like being at pit; I push the corf with my head, and it hurts me,
-and is sore.'—Ibid. No. 266, p. 292, 1. 17.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Margaret Gomley, Lindley Moor, aged nine: 'Am very tired.'—<i>Scriven,
-Evidence</i>, No. 9; App. pt. ii. p. 103, 1. 34.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"James Mitchell, aged twelve, Messrs. Holt and Hebblewaite's:
-'I am very tired when I get home; it is enough to tire a horse;
-and stooping so much makes it bad.'—Ibid. No. 2, p. 101, 1. 32.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"William Whittaker, aged sixteen, Mr. Rawson's colliery: 'I
-am always very tired when I go home.'—Ibid. No. 13, p. 104, 1. 55.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"George Wilkinson, aged thirteen, Low Moor: 'Are you tired
-now? Nay. Were you tired then? Yea. What makes the
-difference? I can hurry a deal better now.'—<i>W. R. Wood, Esq.,
-Evidence</i>, No. 18, App. pt. ii. p. <i>h</i> 11, 1. 30.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Stevenson, aged fourteen, Low Moor: 'Has worked in
-a coal-pit eight years; went in at six years old; used to rue to
-go in; does not rue now; it was very hard when he went in, and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>
-"I were nobbud a right little one." Was not strong enough
-when he first went; had better have been a little bigger; used
-to be very tired; did not when he first went. I waur ill tired.'—Ibid.
-No. 15, p. <i>h</i> 10, 1. 39.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Jabez Scott, aged fifteen, Bowling Iron Works: 'Work is
-very hard; sleeps well sometimes; sometimes is very ill tired and
-cannot sleep so well.'—Ibid. No. 38, p. <i>h</i> 10, 1. 29.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"William Sharpe, Esq., F. R. S., surgeon, Bradford, states:
-'That he has for twenty years professionally attended at the Low
-Moor Iron Works; that there are occasionally cases of deformity,
-and also bad cases of scrofula, apparently induced by the boys
-being too early sent into the pits, by their working beyond their
-strength, by their constant stooping, and by occasionally working
-in water.'"—Ibid. No. 60, p. <i>h</i> 27, 1. 45.</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The statements of the children, as will be seen, are
-confirmed by the evidence of the adult work-people, in
-which we also find some further developments:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"William Fletcher, aged thirty-three, collier, West Hallam:
-'Considers the collier's life a very hard one both for man and
-boy, the latter full as hard as the former.'—<i>Report</i>, No. 37, p.
-279, 1. 17.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Beasley, collier, aged forty-nine, Shipley: 'He has
-known instances where the children have been so overcome with
-the work, as to cause them to go off in a decline; he has seen
-those who could not get home without their father's assistance,
-and have fallen asleep before they could be got to bed; has known
-children of six years old sent to the pit, but thinks there are
-none at Shipley under seven or eight; it is his opinion a boy is
-too weak to stand the hours, even to drive between, until he is
-eight or nine years old; the boys go down at six in the morning,
-and has known them kept down until nine or ten, until they are
-almost ready to exhaust; the children and young persons work
-the same hours as the men; the children are obliged to work in
-the night if the wagon-road is out of repair, or the water coming
-on them; it happens sometimes two or three times in the week;
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
-they then go down at six <span class="sc">P.M.</span> to six
-<span class="sc">A.M.</span>, and have from ten
-minutes to half an hour allowed for supper, according to the
-work they have to do; they mostly ask the children who
-have been at work the previous day to go down with them,
-but seldom have to oblige them; when he was a boy, he has
-worked for thirty-six hours running many a time, and many
-more besides himself have done so.'—Ibid. No. 40, p. 274, 1. 23.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"William Wardle, aged forty, Eastwood: 'There is no doubt
-colliers are much harder worked than labourers; indeed, it is the
-hardest work under heaven.'—Ibid. No. 84, p. 287, 1. 51.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Samuel Richards, aged forty, Awsworth: 'There are Sunday-schools
-when they will go; but when boys have been beaten,
-knocked about, and covered with sludge all the week, they want
-to be in bed to rest all day on Sunday.'—Ibid. No. 166, p. 307,
-1. 58.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"William Sellers, operative, aged twenty-two, Butterley Company:
-'When he first worked in the pit, he has been so tired
-that he slept as he walked.'—Ibid. No. 222, p. 319, 1. 35.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"William Knighton, aged twenty-four, Denby: 'He remembers
-"mony" a time he has dropped asleep with the meat in his
-mouth through fatigue; it is those butties—they are the very
-devil; they impose upon them in one way, then in another.'—Ibid.
-No. 314, p. 334, 1. 42.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"—— ——, engine-man, Babbington: 'Has, when working
-whole days, often seen the children lie down on the pit-bank and
-go to sleep, they were so tired.'—Ibid. No. 137, p. 300, 1. 10.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Attenborough, schoolmaster, Greasley: 'Has observed
-that the collier children are more tired and dull than the others,
-but equally anxious to learn.'—Ibid. No. 153, p. 304, 1. 122.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Ann Birkin: 'Is mother to Thomas and Jacob, who work in
-Messrs. Fenton's pits; they have been so tired after a whole day's
-work, that she has at times had to wash them and lift them into
-bed.'—Ibid. No. 81, p. 285, 1. 59.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Hannah Neale, Butterley Park: 'They come home so tired
-that they become stiff, and can hardly get to bed; Constantine,
-the one ten years old, formerly worked in the same pit as his
-brothers, but about a half a year since his toe was cut off by the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
-bind falling; notwithstanding this, the loader made him work
-until the end of the day, although in the greatest pain. He was
-out of work more than four months owing to this accident.'—Ibid.
-No. 237, p. 320, 1. 51.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Ellen Wagstaff, Watnall: 'Has five children, three at Trough
-lane and two at Willow lane, Greasley; one at Trough lane is
-eighteen, one fourteen, one thirteen years of age; and those at
-Willow lane are sixteen and nineteen; they are variously employed;
-the youngest was not seven years old when he first went
-to the pits. The whole have worked since they were seven or
-seven and a half; they have worked from six to eight; from six
-to two for half days, no meal-time in half days; she has known
-them when at full work so tired when they first worked,
-that you could not hear them speak, and they fell asleep before
-they could eat their suppers; it has grieved her to the heart to
-see them.'—Ibid. No. 104, p. 292, 1. 18.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Ann Wilson, Underwood: 'Is stepmother to Matthew Wilson
-and mother to Richard Clarke. Has heard what they have said,
-and believes it to be true; has known them when they work
-whole days they have come home so tired and dirty, that they
-could scarcely be prevented lying down on the ashes by the fireside,
-and could not take their clothes off; has had to do it for
-them, and take them to the brook and wash them, and has sat up
-most of the night to get their clothes dry. The next morning
-they have gone to work like bears to the stake.'—Ibid. No. 112,
-p. 294, 1. 5.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Hannah Brixton, Babbington: 'The butties slave them past
-any thing. Has frequently had them drop asleep as soon as they
-have got in the house, and complain of their legs and arms aching
-very bad.'—Ibid. No. 149, p. 302, 1. 44.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Michael Wilkins: 'Never has a mind for his victuals; never
-feels himself hungry.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Charlton: 'Thinks the stythe makes him bad so that
-he cannot eat his bait, and often brings it all home with him
-again, or eats very little of it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Michael Richardson: 'He never has much appetite; and the
-dust often blacks his victuals. Is always dry and thirsty.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"William Beaney: 'Has thrown up his victuals often when he
-came home; thinks the bad air made him do this.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Thompson: 'Often throws up his food.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Thomas Newton: 'Threw up his victuals last night when he
-came home. Never does so down in the pit, but often does when
-he comes home.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Moses Clerk: 'Throws up his victuals nearly every day at
-home and down in the pit.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Thomas Martin: 'Many times feels sick, and feels headache,
-and throws up his food. Was well before he went down in the
-pit.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Thomas Fawcett: 'Many a night falls sick; and he many
-times throws up his meat when he is in bed. Sometimes feels
-bad and sick in the morning.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"George Alder: 'Has been unwell of late with the hard work.
-Has felt very sick and weak all this last week.' (Looks very pale
-and unwell.)</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Charlton: 'Often obliged to give over. Has been off
-five days in the last month. Each of these days was down in the
-pit and obliged to come up again.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Laverick and others: 'Many times they fell sick down
-in the pit. Sometimes they have the heart-burn; sometimes they
-force up their meat again. Some boys are off a week from being
-sick; occasionally they feel pains.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Six trappers: 'Sometimes they feel sick upon going to work
-in the morning. Sometimes bring up their breakfasts from their
-stomachs again. Different boys at different times do this.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"George Short: 'It is bad air where he is, and makes him
-bad; makes small spots come out upon him, (small pimples,)
-which he thinks is from the air, and he takes physic to stop
-them. His head works very often, and he feels sickish sometimes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Nichol Hudderson: 'The pit makes him sick. Has been
-very bad in his health ever since he went down in the pit. Was
-very healthy before. The heat makes him sick. The sulphur
-rising up the shaft as he goes down makes his head work.
-Often so sick that he cannot eat when he gets up, at least he
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
-cannot eat very much. About a half a year since, a boy named
-John Huggins was very sick down in the pit, and wanted to come
-up, but the keeper would not let him ride, (come up,) and he
-died of fever one week afterward.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">["The father of this lad and his brother fully corroborate this
-statement, and the father says the doctor told him that if he (the
-boy) had not been kept in the pit, he might have been, perhaps,
-saved. This boy never had any thing the matter with him before
-he went down into the pit."—<i>Leifchild, Evidences</i>, Nos. 156, 169,
-270, 83, 110, 142, 143, 374, 194, 364, 135, 100, 101; App. pt. i.
-p. 582 <i>et seq.</i> See also the statement of witnesses, Nos. 315,
-327, 351, 359, 360, 361, 362, 363, 365, 377, 381, 382, 384, 403,
-434, 454, 455, 457, 464, 465, 466.]</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Similar statements are made by all classes of witnesses
-in some other districts. Thus, in Shropshire:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"A surgeon who did not wish his name to be published: 'They
-are subject to hypertrophy of the heart, no doubt laying the
-foundation of such disease at the early age of from eight to thirteen
-years.'—<i>Mitchell, Evidence</i>, No. 45; App. pt. i. p. 81, 1. 16.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Michael Thomas Sadler, surgeon, Barnsley: 'I have
-found diseases of the heart in adult colliers, which it struck me
-arose from violent exertion. I know of no trade about here
-where the work is harder.'—<i>Symons, Evidence</i>, No. 139; App.
-pt. i. p. 261, 1. 36.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Pearson, surgeon to the dispensary, Wigan: 'They are
-very subject to diseases of the heart.'—<i>Kennedy, Report</i>, 1. 304;
-App. pt. ii. p. 189.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Dr. William Thompson, Edinburgh: 'Workers in coal-mines
-are exceedingly liable to suffer from irregular action, and ultimately
-organic diseases of the heart.'—<i>Franks, Evidence</i>, App.
-pt. i. p. 409.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Scott Alison, M. D., East Lothian: 'I found diseases of the
-heart very common among colliers at all ages, from boyhood up
-to old age. The most common of them were inflammation of
-that organ, and of its covering, the pericardium, simple enlargement
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
-or hypertrophy, contraction of the auriculo-ventricular
-communications, and of the commencement of the aorta. These
-symptoms were well marked, attended for the most part with
-increase of the heart's action, the force of its contraction being
-sensibly augmented, and, in many cases, especially those of hypertrophy,
-much and preternaturally extended over the chest.'—Ibid.
-p. 417.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Thomas Batten, surgeon, Coleford: 'A boy about thirteen
-years of age, in the Parkend Pits, died of <i>hæmorrhagia
-purpurea</i>, (a suffusion of blood under the cuticle,) brought on by
-too much exertion of the muscles and whole frame.'—<i>Waring,
-Evidence</i>, No. 36; App. pt. ii. p. 24, 1. 21.</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">To this list of diseases arising from great muscular
-exertion, must be added rupture:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Dr. Farell, Sheffield: 'Many of them are ruptured; nor is
-this by any means uncommon among lads—arising, in all probability,
-from over-exertion.'—<i>Symons, Evidence</i>, No. 47, App. pt.
-i. p. 286, 1. 2.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Pearson, surgeon to the dispensary, Wigan: 'Colliers
-are often ruptured, and they often come to me for advice.'—<i>Kennedy,
-Report</i>, 1. 304; App. pt. ii. p. 189.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Andrew Grey: 'Severe ruptures occasioned by lifting coal.
-Many are ruptured on both sides. I am, and suffer severely, and
-a vast number of men here are also.'—<i>Franks, Evidence</i>, No.
-147; App. pt. i. p. 463, 1. 61.</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">But employment in the coal-mines produces another
-series of diseases incomparably more painful and
-fatal, partly referable to excessive muscular exertion,
-and partly to the state of the place of work—that is,
-to the foul air from imperfect ventilation, and the wetness
-from inefficient drainage. Of the diseases of the
-lungs produced by employment in the mines, asthma
-is the most frequent.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. William Hartell Baylis: 'The working of the mines brings
-on asthma.'—<i>Mitchell, Evidence</i>, No. 7; App. pt. i. p. 65, 1. 31.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"A surgeon who does not wish his name to be published:
-'Most colliers, at the age of thirty, become asthmatic. There
-are few attain that age without having the respiratory apparatus
-disordered.'—Ibid. No. 45, p. 81, 1. 15.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. George Marcy, clerk of the Wellington Union: 'Many
-applications are made from miners for relief on account of sickness,
-and chiefly from asthmatic complaints, when arrived at an
-advanced age. At forty, perhaps, the generality suffer much
-from asthma. Those who have applied have been first to the
-medical officer, who has confirmed what they said.'—Ibid. No. 46,
-p. 81, 1. 44.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I met with very few colliers above forty years of age, who,
-if they had not a confirmed asthmatic disease, were not suffering
-from difficult breathing.'—<i>Fellows, Report</i>, s. 57; App. pt. ii. p.
-256.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Phœbe Gilbert, Watnall, Messrs. Barber and Walker: 'She
-thinks they are much subject to asthma. Her first husband, who
-died aged 57, was unable to work for seven years on that account.'—<i>Fellows,
-Evidence</i>, No. 105; App. pt. ii. p. 256.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"William Wardle, collier, forty years of age, Eastwood: 'There
-are some who are asthmatical, and many go double.'—Ibid. No.
-84, p. 287, 1. 40.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Henry Hemmingway, surgeon, Dewsbury: 'When children
-are working where carbonic acid gas prevails, they are rendered
-more liable to affections of the brain and lungs. This acid prevents
-the blood from its proper decarbonization as it passes from
-the heart to the lungs. It does not get properly quit of the
-carbon.'—<i>Symons, Evidence</i>, No. 221; App. pt. i. p. 282, 1. 38.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Uriah Bradbury, surgeon, Mirfield: 'They suffer from
-asthma.'—Ibid. No. 199, p. 278, 1. 58.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. J. B. Greenwood, surgeon, Cleckheaton: 'The cases
-which have come before me professionally have been chiefly
-affections of the chest and asthma, owing to the damp underfoot,
-and also to the dust which arises from the working of the coal.'—Ibid.
-No. 200, p. 279, 1. 8.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">"J. Ibetson, collier, aged fifty-three, Birkenshaw: 'I have suffered
-from asthma, and am regularly knocked up. A collier
-cannot stand the work regularly. He must stop now and then,
-or he will be mashed up before any time.'—Ibid. No. 267, p. 292,
-1. 42.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Joseph Barker, collier, aged forty-three, Windybank Pit: 'I
-have a wife and two children; one of them is twenty-two years
-old; he is mashed up, (that is, he is asthmatical,) he has been as
-good a worker as ever worked in a skin.'—<i>Scriven, Evidence</i>, No.
-14; App. pt. ii. p. 104, 1. 60.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. George Canney, surgeon, Bishop Aukland: 'Do the
-children suffer from early employment in the pits?' Yes, seven
-and eight is a very early age, and the constitution must suffer in
-consequence. It is injurious to be kept in one position so long,
-and in the dark. They go to bed when they come home, and
-enjoy very little air. I think there is more than the usual
-proportion of pulmonary complaints.'—<i>Mitchell, Evidence</i>, No. 97;
-App. pt. i. p. 154, 1. 2.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Headlam, physician, Newcastle: 'Diseases of respiration
-are more common among pit-men than among others, distinctly
-referable to the air in which they work. The air contains
-a great proportion of carbonic gas, and carburetted hydrogen.
-These diseases of the respiratory organs arise from the breathing
-of these gases, principally of the carbonic acid gas.—<i>Leifchild,
-Evidence</i>, No. 499; App. pt. i. p. 67, 1. 11.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Heath, of Newcastle, surgeon: 'More than usually liable
-to asthma; mostly between thirty and forty years of age.
-A person always working in the broken would be more liable to
-asthma. Asthma is of very slow growth, and it is difficult to
-say when it begins. Custom and habit will not diminish the evil
-effects, but will diminish the sensibility to these evils.'—Ibid.
-No. 497, p. 665, 1. 10-14.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Matthew Blackburn, driver, fifteen years of age, Heaton Colliery:
-'Has felt shortness of breath. Helps up sometimes, but
-is bound to drive. Cannot help up sometimes for shortness of
-breath. His legs often work, (ache;) his shoulders work sometimes.
-Working in a wet place.'—Ibid. No. 27, p. 573, 1. 34.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Dr. S. Scott Alison, East Lothian: 'Between the twentieth
-and thirtieth year the colliers decline in bodily vigour, and
-become more and more spare; the difficulty of breathing progresses,
-and they find themselves very desirous of some remission
-from their labour. This period is fruitful in acute diseases, such
-as fever, inflammation of the lungs, pleura, and many other ailments,
-the product of over-exertion, exposure to cold and wet,
-violence, insufficient clothing, intemperance, and foul air. For
-the first few years chronic bronchitis is usually found alone, and
-unaccompanied by disease of the body or lungs. The patient
-suffers more or less difficulty of breathing, which is affected by
-changes of the weather, and by variations in the weight of the
-atmosphere. He coughs frequently, and the expectoration is
-composed, for the most part, of white frothy and yellowish
-mucous fluid, occasionally containing blackish particles of carbon,
-the result of the combustion of the lamp, and also of minute
-coal-dust. At first, and indeed for several years, the patient, for
-the most part, does not suffer much in his general health, eating
-heartily, and retaining his muscular strength in consequence.
-The disease is rarely, if ever, entirely cured; and if the collier
-be not carried off by some other lesion in the mean time, this
-disease ultimately deprives him of life by a slow and lingering
-process. The difficulty of breathing becomes more or less permanent,
-the expectoration becomes very abundant, effusions of
-water take place in the chest, the feet swell, and the urine is
-secreted in small quantity; the general health gradually breaks
-up, and the patient, after reaching premature old age, slips into
-the grave at a comparatively early period, with perfect willingness
-on his part, and no surprise on that of his family and
-friends.'—<i>Franks, Evidence</i>, App. pt. i. p. 412, 415, Appendix A.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Duncan, aged fifty-nine, hewer, Pencaitland: 'Mining
-has caused my breath to be affected, and I am, like many other
-colliers, obliged to hang upon my children for existence. The
-want of proper ventilation in the pits is the chief cause. No part
-requires more looking to than East Lothian; the men die off like
-rotten sheep.'—Ibid. No. 150, p. 464, 1. 28.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"George Hogg, thirty-two years of age, coal-hewer, Pencaitland:
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
-'Unable to labour much now, as am fashed with bad
-breath; the air below is very bad; until lately no ventilation
-existed.'—Ibid. No. 153, p. 406, 1. 46. See also Witnesses, Nos.
-4, 36, 53, 131, 152, 155, 175, 275, 277, &c.: 'The confined air and
-dust in which they work is apt to render them asthmatic, as well
-as to unfit them for labour at an earlier period of life than is the
-case in other employments.'—<i>Tancred, Report</i>, s. 99, App. pt. i.
-p. 345.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Dr. Adams, Glasgow: 'Amongst colliers, bronchitis or asthma
-is very prevalent among the older hands.'—<i>Tancred, Evidence</i>,
-No. 9; App. pt. i. p. 361, 1. 44.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Peter Williams, surgeon, Holiwell, North Wales: 'The
-chief diseases to which they are liable are those of the bronchiæ.
-Miners and colliers, by the age of forty, generally become affected
-by chronic bronchitis, and commonly before the age of sixty fall
-martyrs to the disease. The workmen are, for the most part,
-very healthy and hardy, until the symptoms of affections of the
-bronchial tubes show themselves.'—<i>H. H. Jones, Evidence</i>, No.
-95; App. pt. ii. p. 407, 1. 8.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Jeremiah Bradley, underground agent, Plaskynaston: 'The
-men are apt to get a tightness of breath, and become unfit for the
-pits, even before sixty.'—Ibid. No. 30, p. 383, 1. 8.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Amongst colliers in South Wales the diseases most prevalent
-are the chronic diseases of the respiratory organs, especially
-asthma and bronchitis.'—<i>Franks, Report</i>, s. 64; App. pt. ii.
-p. 484.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"David Davis, contractor, Gilvachvargoed colliery, Glamorganshire:
-'I am of opinion that miners are sooner disabled and off
-work than other mechanics, for they suffer from shortness of
-breath long before they are off work. Shortness of breath may
-be said to commence from forty to fifty years of age.'—<i>Franks,
-Evidence</i>, No. 178; App. pt. ii. p. 533, 1. 32.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Richard Andrews, overseer, Llancyach, Glamorganshire:
-'The miners about here are very subject to asthmatic complaints.'—Ibid.
-No. 152; p. 529, 1. 7.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Frederick Evans, clerk and accountant for the Dowlais
-Collieries, Monmouthshire: 'Asthma is a prevalent disease
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
-among colliers.'—<i>R. W. Jones, Evidence</i>, No. 121; App. pt. ii.
-p. 646, 1. 48.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. David Mushet, Forest of Dean: 'The men generally become
-asthmatic from fifty to fifty-five years of age.'—<i>Waring, Evidence</i>,
-No. 37; App. pt. ii. p. 25, 1. 3.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Asthmatic and other bronchial affections are common among
-the older colliers and miners.'—<i>Waring, Report</i>, s. 72; App.
-pt. ii. p. 6.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. W. Brice, clerk, Coal Barton and Vobster Collieries,
-North Somersetshire: 'The work requires the full vigour of a
-man, and they are apt, at this place, to get asthmatical from the gas
-and foul air.'—<i>Stewart, Evidence</i>, No. 7; App. pt. ii. p. 50, 1. 49.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"James Beacham, coal-breaker, Writhlington, near Radstock:
-'Many of the miners suffer from "tight breath."'—Ibid. No. 32;
-p. 56, 1. 31."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Of that disease which is peculiar to colliers, called
-"black spittle," much evidence is given by many medical
-witnesses and others:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Cooper, surgeon, of Bilston, gives the following account
-of this malady when it appears in its mildest form: 'Frequently
-it occurs that colliers appear at the offices of medical men, complaining
-of symptoms of general debility, which appear to arise
-from inhalation of certain gases in the mines, (probably an excess
-of carbonic.) These patients present a pallid appearance, are
-affected with headache, (without febrile symptoms,) and constriction
-of the chest; to which may be added dark bronchial expectoration
-and deficient appetite. Gentle aperients, mild stomachics,
-and rest from labour above ground, restore them in a
-week or so, and they are perhaps visited at intervals with a
-relapse, if the state of the atmosphere or the ill ventilation of the
-mine favour the development of deleterious gas.'—<i>Mitchell, Evidence</i>,
-No. 3; App. pt. i. p. 62, 1. 48."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In other districts this disease assumes a much more
-formidable character:—</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Dr. Thompson, of Edinburgh, states that, 'The workmen in
-coal mines occasionally die of an affection of the lungs, accompanied
-with the expectoration of a large quantity of matter of a
-deep black colour, this kind of expectoration continuing long
-after they have, from choice or illness, abandoned their subterranean
-employment; and the lungs of such persons are found, on
-examination after death, to be most deeply impregnated with
-black matter. This black deposition may occur to a very considerable
-extent in the lungs of workers in coal-mines, without
-being accompanied with any black expectoration, or any other
-phenomena of active disease, and may come to light only after
-death has been occasioned by causes of a different nature, as by
-external injuries.'—<i>Franks</i>, Appendix A, No. 1; App. pt. i. p.
-409.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Dr. S. Scott Alison: 'Spurious melanosis, or "black spit" of
-colliers, is a disease of pretty frequent occurrence among the
-older colliers, and among those men who have been employed in
-cutting and blasting stone dykes in the collieries. The symptoms
-are emaciation of the whole body, constant shortness and quickness
-of breath, occasional stitches in the sides, quick pulse,
-usually upward of one hundred in the minute, hacking cough
-day and night, attended by a copious expectoration, for the most
-part perfectly black, and very much the same as thick blacking
-in colour and consistence, but occasionally yellowish and mucous,
-or white and frothy; respiration is cavernous in some parts, and
-dull in others; a wheezing noise is heard in the bronchial passages,
-from the presence of an inordinate quantity of fluid; the
-muscles of respiration become very prominent, the neck is shortened,
-the chest being drawn up, the nostrils are dilated, and the
-countenance is of an anxious aspect. The strength gradually
-wasting, the collier, who has hitherto continued at his employment,
-finds that he is unable to work six days in the week, and
-goes under ground perhaps only two or three days in that time;
-in the course of time, he finds an occasional half-day's employment
-as much as he can manage, and when only a few weeks' or
-months' journey from the grave, ultimately takes a final leave of
-his labour. This disease is never cured, and if the unhappy
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
-victim of an unwholesome occupation is not hurried off by some
-more acute disease, or by violence, it invariably ends in the
-death of the sufferer. Several colliers have died of this disease
-under my care.'—Ibid. Appendix A, No. 2; App. pt. i. p. 415,
-416.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Dr. Makellar, Pencaitland, East Lothian: 'The most serious
-and fatal disease which I have been called to treat, connected
-with colliers, is a carbonaceous infiltration into the substance of
-the lungs. It is a disease which has long been overlooked, on
-account of the unwillingness which formerly existed among that
-class of people to allow examination of the body after death; but
-of late such a prejudice has in a great measure been removed.
-From the nature of Pencaitland coal-works, the seams of coal
-being thin when compared with other coal-pits, mining operations
-are carried on with difficulty, and, in such a situation, there is
-a deficiency in the supply of atmospheric gas, thereby causing
-difficulty in breathing, and, consequently, the inhalation of the
-carbon which the lungs in exhalation throw off, and also any
-carbonaceous substance floating in this impure atmosphere. I
-consider the pulmonary diseases of coal-miners to be excited
-chiefly by two causes, viz. first, by running stone-mines with
-the use of gunpowder; and, secondly, coal-mining in an atmosphere
-charged with lamp-smoke and the carbon exhaled from
-the lungs. All who are engaged at coal-pits here, are either employed
-as coal or stone miners; and the peculiar disease to which
-both parties are liable varies considerably according to the employment.'—Ibid.
-Appendix A, No. 3, p. 422. See also witnesses
-Nos. 7, 44, 112, 144, 146. For a full account of this disease, see
-reports of Drs. Alison, Makellar, and Reid, in the Appendix to
-the sub-commissioner's report for the East of Scotland."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Dr. Makellar gives the following remarkable evidence
-as to the efficacy of ventilation in obviating the production
-of this disease:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The only effectual remedy for this disease is a free admission
-of pure air, and to be so applied as to remove the confined smoke,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
-both as to stone-mining and coal-mining, and also the introduction
-of some other mode of lighting such pits than by oil. I know
-many coal-pits where there is no <i>black-spit</i>, nor was it ever known,
-and, on examination, I find that there is and ever has been in them
-a free circulation of air. For example, the Penstone coal-works,
-which join Pencaitland, has ever been free of this disease; but
-many of the Penstone colliers, on coming to work at Pencaitland
-pit, have been seized with, and died of, this disease. Penstone
-has always good air, while it is quite the contrary at Pencaitland.'—Ibid.
-Appendix A, No. 3; App. pt. i. p. 422."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Other diseases, produced by employment in coal-mines,
-less fatal, but scarcely less painful, are rheumatism
-and inflammation of the joints.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. William Hartell Baylis states that working in
-the cold and wet often brings on rheumatism. "More suffer
-from this than from any other complaint."<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Asthma
-and rheumatism, which are so prevalent in other districts,
-are very rare in Warwickshire and Leicestershire.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a>
-But, in Derbyshire, "rheumatism is very
-general. I believe you will scarcely meet a collier,
-and ask him what he thinks of the weather, but he will
-in reply say, 'Why, his back or shoulders have or have
-not pained him as much as usual.'"<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">George Tweddell, surgeon, Houghton-le-Spring, South
-Durham, says, in answer to the question—Are miners
-much subject to rheumatism?—"Not particularly so.
-Our mines are dry; but there is one mine which is wet,
-where the men often complain of rheumatism."<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Similar evidence is given by the medical and other
-witnesses in all other districts. Wherever the mines
-are not properly drained, and are, therefore, wet and
-cold, the work-people are invariably afflicted with rheumatism,
-and with painful diseases of the glands.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The sub-commissioner for the Forest of Dean gives
-the following account of a painful disease of the joints
-common in that district:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'The men employed in cutting down the coal are subject to
-inflammation of the <i>bursæ</i>, both in the knees and elbows, from
-the constant pressure and friction on these joints in their working
-postures. When the seams are several feet thick, they begin by
-kneeling and cutting away the exterior portion of the base. They
-proceed undermining till they are obliged to lie down on their
-sides, in order to work beneath the mass as far as the arm can
-urge the pick, for the purpose of bringing down a good head of
-coal. In this last posture the elbow forms a pivot, resting on the
-ground, on which the arm of the workman oscillates as he plies
-his sharp pick. It is easy to comprehend how this action, combined
-with the pressure, should affect the delicate cellular membrane
-of this joint, and bring on the disease indicated. The thin
-seams of coal are necessarily altogether worked in a horizontal
-posture.'—<i>Waring, Report</i>, s. 63-66; App. pt. ii. p. 5, 6.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Twenty boys at the Walker Colliery: 'The twenty witnesses,
-when examined collectively, say, that the way is so very dirty,
-and the pit so warm, that the lads often get tired very soon.'—<i>Leifchild,
-Evidence</i>, No. 291; App. pt. i. p. 627, 1. 661.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Nineteen boys examined together, of various ages, of whom
-the spokesman was William Holt, seventeen years old, putter:
-'The bad air when they were whiles working in the broken,
-makes them sick. Has felt weak like in his legs at those times.
-Was weary like. Has gone on working, but very slowly. Many
-a one has had to come home before having a fair start, from
-bad air and hard work. Hours are too long. Would sooner
-work less hours and get less money.'—Ibid. No. 300; p. 629, 1. 1.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Twenty-three witnesses assembled state: 'That their work is
-too hard for them, and they feel sore tired; that some of them
-constantly throw up their meat from their stomachs; that their
-heads often work, (ache;) the back sometimes; and the legs feel
-weak.'—Ibid. No. 354; p. 639, 1. 18.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Wilkinson, aged thirteen, Piercy Main Colliery: 'Was
-in for a double shift about five weeks ago, and fell asleep about
-one o'clock <span class="sc">P.M.</span>, as he was going to lift the limmers off to join
-the rolleys together, and got himself lamed by the horse turning
-about and jamming one of his fingers. Split his finger. Was
-off a week from this accident. Sometimes feels sick down in the
-pit; felt so once or twice last fortnight. Whiles his head works,
-(aches,) and he has pains in his legs, as if they were weak.
-Feels pains in his knees. Thinks the work is hard for foals,
-more so than for others.'—Ibid. No. 60; p. 579, 1. 22.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Middlemas: 'Sometimes, but very rarely, they work
-double shift; that is, they go down at four o'clock <span class="sc">A.M.</span> and do not
-come up until four o'clock <span class="sc">P.M.</span> in the day after that, thus stopping
-down thirty-six hours, without coming up, sometimes; and sometimes
-they come up for half an hour, and then go down again.
-Another worked for twenty-four hours last week, and never came
-up at all. Another has stopped down thirty-six hours, without
-coming up at all, twice during the last year. When working this
-double shift they go to bed directly they come home.'—Ibid. No.
-98; p. 588, 1. 42.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Michael Turner, helper-up, aged fourteen and a half, Gosforth
-Colliery: 'Mostly he puts up hill the full corves. Many
-times the skin is rubbed off his back and off his feet. His head
-works (aches) very often, almost every week. His legs work so
-sometimes that he can hardly trail them. Is at hard work now,
-shoving rolleys and hoisting the crane; the former is the hardest
-work. His back works very often, so that he has sometimes
-to sit down for half a minute or so.'—Ibid. No. 145; p. 598,
-1. 58.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"George Short, aged nearly sixteen: 'Hoists a crane. His
-head works very often, and he feels sickish sometimes, and
-drowsy sometimes, especially if he sits down. Has always been
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
-drowsy since he went there. Twice he has worked three shifts
-following, of twelve hours each shift; never came up at all during
-the thirty-six hours; was sleepy, but had no time to sleep. Has
-many times worked double shift of nineteen hours, and he does
-this now nearly every pay Friday night. A vast of boys work in
-this shift, ten or eleven, or sometimes more. The boys are very
-tired and sleepy.'—Ibid. No. 191; p. 606, 1. 41.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Maffin, sixteen years old, putter, Gosforth Colliery:
-'Was strong before he went down pits, but is not so now, from
-being overhard wrought, and among bad air.'—Ibid. No. 141;
-p. 598, 1. 2.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Robert Hall, seventeen years old, half marrow, Felling Colliery:
-'The work of putting makes his arms weak, and his legs
-work all the day; makes his back work. Is putting to the dip
-now in a heavy place. Each one takes his turn to use the
-"soams," (the drawing-straps;) one pulls with them, and the
-other shoves behind. Both are equally hard. If it is a very
-heavy place there are helpers-up, but not so many as they want.
-Has known one sore strained by putting.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Peel, aged thirteen: 'Is now off from this. Is healthy
-in general, but is now and then off from this work.'—Ibid. No.
-325; p. 634, 1. 11.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Michael Richardson, fifteen years old, putter, St. Lawrence
-Main Colliery: 'About three quarters of a year since he wrought
-double shift every other night; or, rather, he worked three times
-in eleven days for thirty-six hours at a time, without coming up
-the pit. About six months ago he worked three shifts following,
-of twelve hours each shift, and never stopped work more than a
-few minutes now and then, or came up the pit till he was done.
-There was now and then some night-work to do, and the overman
-asked him to stop, and he could not say no, or else he (the overman)
-would have frowned on him, and stopped him, perhaps, of
-some helpers-up. Thinks the hours for lads ought to be shortened,
-and does not know whether it would not be better even if
-their wages were less.'—Ibid. No. 270; p. 623, 1. 32.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"James Glass, eighteen years old, putter, Walbottle: 'Puts a
-tram by himself. Has no helper-up, and no assistance. Mostly
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
-puts a full tram up. Is putting from a distance now. Mostly
-the trams are put up by one person. Was off work the week
-before last three days, by being sick. Was then putting in the
-night shift, and had to go home and give over. Could not work.
-His head works nearly every day. He is always hitting his head
-against stone roofs. His arms work very often. Has to stoop
-a good deal. The weight of his body lies upon his arms when he
-is putting. The skin is rubbed off his back very often.'—Ibid.
-No. 244; p. 619, 1. 27.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. James Anderson, a Home Missionary, residing in Easington
-Lane, Hetton-le-Hole, in reply to queries proposed, handed in
-the following written evidence: 'The boys go too soon to work:
-I have seen boys at work not six years of age, and though their
-work is not hard, still they have long hours, so that when they
-come home they are quite spent. I have often seen them lying
-on the floor, fast asleep. Then they often fall asleep in the pit,
-and have been killed. Not long ago a boy fell asleep, lay down
-on the way, and the wagons killed him. Another boy was killed;
-it was supposed he had fallen asleep when driving his wagon,
-and fallen off, and was killed.'—Ibid. No. 446; p. 655, 1. 62."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The children employed in the mines and collieries
-are distinguished by a remarkable muscular development,
-which, however, is unhealthy, as it is premature,
-obtained at the expense of other parts of the body, and
-of but short duration. The muscles of the arms and
-the back become very large and full.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">With the great muscular development, there is commonly
-a proportionate diminution of stature. All
-classes of witnesses state that colliers, as a body—children,
-young persons, and adults—are stunted in growth.
-There are only two exceptions to this in Great Britain,
-namely, Warwickshire and Leicestershire. It is to be
-inferred from the statements of the sub-commissioner
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
-for Ireland, that that country forms a third exception
-for the United Kingdom. Of the uniformity of the
-statements as to the small stature and the stunted
-growth of the colliers in all other districts, the following
-may be regarded as examples:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Shropshire, the miners, as a body, are of small
-stature; this is abundantly obvious even to a casual
-observer, and there are many instances of men never
-exceeding the size of boys.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> Andrew Blake, M. D.,
-states of the colliers in Derbyshire, that he has observed
-that many of them are not so tall as their neighbours
-in other employments; this, in a degree, he considers is
-owing to their being worked so young.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> In the West
-Riding of Yorkshire, also, there is in stature an "appreciable
-difference in colliers' children, manifest at all
-ages after they have been three years constantly in the
-pits; there is little malformation, but, as Mr. Eliss, a
-surgeon constantly attending them, admits, they are
-somewhat stunted in growth and expanded in width."<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Henry Hemmingway, surgeon, Dewsbury: 'I am quite
-sure that the rule is that the children in coal-pits are of a lower
-stature than others.'—<i>Symons, Evidence</i>, No. 221; App. pt. i. p.
-282, 1. 47.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Thomas Rayner, surgeon, Bristall: 'I account for the
-stunted growth from the stooping position, which makes them
-grow laterally, and prevents the cartilaginous substances from
-expanding.'—Ibid. No. 268, p. 292, 1. 52.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Henry Moorhouse, surgeon, Huddersfield: 'I may state, from
-my own personal examination of many of them, that they are
-much less in stature, in proportion to their ages, than those working
-in mills.'—Ibid. No. 273, p. 293, 1. 49.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Jos. Ellison, Bristall: 'The employment of children decidedly
-stunts their growth.'—Ibid. No. 249, p. 288, 1. 8."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Symons, in Appendix to p. 212 of his Report,
-has given in detail the names, ages, and measurement,
-both in stature and in girth of breast, of a great number
-of farm and of colliery children of both ages respectively.
-By taking the first ten collier boys, and
-the first ten farm boys, of ages between twelve and
-fourteen, we find that the former measured in the aggregate
-forty-four feet six inches in height, and two
-hundred and seventy-four and a half inches around the
-breast; while the farm boys measured forty-seven feet
-in height, and two hundred and seventy-two inches
-round the breast. By taking the ten first collier girls
-and farm girls, respectively between the ages of fourteen
-and seventeen, we find that the ten collier girls
-measured forty-six feet four inches in height, and two
-hundred and ninety-three and a half inches round the
-breast; while the ten farm girls measured fifty feet
-five inches in height, and two hundred and ninety-seven
-inches round the breast; so that in the girls there is a
-difference in the height of those employed on farms,
-compared with those employed in collieries, of eight
-and a half per cent. in favour of the former; while
-between the colliery and farm boys of a somewhat
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
-younger age, and before any long period had been spent
-in the collieries, the difference appears to be five and a
-half per cent. in favour of the farm children.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In like manner, of sixty children employed as hurriers
-in the neighbourhood of Halifax, at the average
-ages of ten years and nine months, Mr. Scriven states
-that the average measurement in height was three feet
-eleven inches and three-tenths, and, in circumference,
-three feet two inches; while of fifty-one children of the
-same age employed on farms, the measurement in height
-was four feet three inches, the circumference being the
-same in both, namely, two feet three inches. In like
-manner, of fifty young persons of the average of fourteen
-years and eleven months, the measurement in
-height was four feet five inches, and in circumference
-two feet three inches; while of forty-nine young
-persons employed on farms, of the average of fifteen
-years and six months, the measurement in height was
-four feet ten inches and eight-elevenths, and, in circumference,
-two feet three inches, being a difference of
-nearly six inches in height in favour of the agricultural
-labourers.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the district of Bradford and Leeds, there is "in
-stature an appreciable difference, from about the age
-at which children begin to work, between children employed
-in mines and children of the same age and
-station in the neighbourhood not so employed; and this
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
-shortness of stature is generally, though to a less degree,
-visible in the adult."<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Lancashire, the sub-commissioner reports that—"It
-appeared to him that the average of the colliers
-are considerably shorter in stature than the agricultural
-labourers."<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> The evidence collected by the other
-gentlemen in this district is to the same effect. Mr.
-Pearson, surgeon to the dispensary, Wigan, states,
-with regard to the physical condition of the children and
-young persons employed in coal-mining, as compared
-with that of children in other employments, that they
-are smaller and have a stunted appearance, which he
-attributes to their being employed too early in life.
-<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a>
-And Mr. Richard Ashton, relieving-officer of the Blackburn
-district, describes the colliers as "a low race, and
-their appearance is rather decrepit."<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> Though some
-remarkable exceptions have been seen in the counties
-of Warwick and Leicester, the colliers, as a race of
-men, in some districts, and in Durham among the rest,
-are not of large stature.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> George Canney, medical
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
-practitioner, Bishop Aukland, states, "that they are
-less in weight and bulk than the generality of men."
-<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Of the collier boys of Durham and Northumberland,
-the sub-commissioner reports that an inspection of
-more than a thousand of these boys convinced him that
-"as a class, (with many individual exceptions,) their
-stature must be considered as diminutive."<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> Mr.
-Nicholas Wood, viewer of Killingworth, &c., states
-"that there is a very general diminution of stature
-among pit-men."<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> Mr. Heath, of Newcastle, surgeon
-to Killingworth, Gosforth, and Coxlodge collieries,
-"thinks the confinement of children for twelve hours
-in a pit is not consistent with ordinary health; the
-stature is rather diminished, and there is an absence of
-colour; they are shortened in stature."<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> And J.
-Brown, M. D., Sunderland, states "that they are
-generally stunted in stature, thin and swarthy."<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Of the collier population in Cumberland, it is stated
-that "they are in appearance quite as stunted in
-growth, and present much the same physical phenomena
-as those of Yorkshire, comparing, of course, those following
-similar branches of the work."<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> Thomas<span class="pagenum">
-<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
-Mitchell, surgeon, Whitehaven, says, "their stature
-is partly decreased."<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Of the deteriorated physical condition of the collier
-population in the East of Scotland, as shown, among
-other indications, by diminished stature, Dr. S. Scott
-Alison states that "many of the infants in a collier
-community are thin, skinny, and wasted, and indicate,
-by their contracted features and sickly, dirty-white or
-faint-yellowish aspect, their early participation in a deteriorated
-physical condition. From the age of infancy
-up to the seventh or eighth year, much sickliness and
-general imperfection of physical development is observable.
-The physical condition of the boys and girls
-engaged in the collieries is much inferior to that of
-children of the same age engaged in farming operations,
-in most other trades, or who remain at home unemployed.
-The children are, upon the whole, prejudicially
-affected to a material extent in their growth and development.
-Many of them are short for their years."<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In South Wales, "the testimony of medical gentlemen,
-and of managers and overseers of various works,
-in which large numbers of children as well as adults
-are employed, proves that the physical health and
-strength of children and young persons is deteriorated
-by their employment at the early ages and in the works
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
-before enumerated."<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> Mr. Jonathan Isaacs, agent of
-the Top Hill colliery:—"I have noticed that the children
-of miners, who are sent to work, do not grow as
-they ought to do; they get pale in their looks, are
-weak in their limbs, and any one can distinguish a collier's
-child from the children of other working people."<a name="FNanchor_24_24"
-id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a>
-Mr. P. Kirkhouse, oversman to the Cyfarthfa collieries
-and ironstone mines, on this point observes—"The
-infantine ages at which children are employed
-cranks (stunts) their growth, and injures their constitution."<a name="FNanchor_25_25"
-id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a>
-John Russell, surgeon to the Dowlais Iron
-Works:—"In stature, I believe a difference to exist in
-the male youth from twelve to sixteen, employed in the
-mines and collieries, compared with those engaged in
-other works, the former being somewhat stunted; and
-this difference (under some form or other) seems still
-perceptible in the adult miners and colliers."<a name="FNanchor_26_26"
-id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">A crippled gait, often connected with positive deformity,
-is one of the frequent results of slaving in the
-mines.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Derbyshire, the children who have worked in the
-collieries from a very early age are stated to be bow-legged.<a name="FNanchor_27_27"
-id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the West Riding of Yorkshire, "after they are
-turned forty-five or fifty, they walk home from their
-work almost like cripples; stiffly stalking along, often
-leaning on sticks, bearing the visible evidences in their
-frame and gait of overstrained muscles and over-taxed
-strength. Where the lowness of the gates induces a
-very bent posture, I have observed an inward curvature
-of the spine; and chicken-breasted children are very
-common among those who work in low, thin coal-mines."<a name="FNanchor_28_28"
-id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a>
-Mr. Uriah Bradbury, surgeon, Mirfield:—"Their
-knees never stand straight, like other people's."<a name="FNanchor_29_29"
-id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a>
-Mr. Henry Hemmingway, surgeon, Dewsbury:—"May
-be distinguished among crowds of
-people, by the bending of the spinal column."<a name="FNanchor_30_30"
-id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> Mr.
-William Sharp, surgeon, Bradford:—"There are
-occasionally cases of deformity."<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Lancashire district, John Bagley, about thirty-nine
-years of age, collier, Mrs. Lancaster's, Patricroft,
-states, that "the women drawing in the pits are generally
-crooked. Can tell any woman who has been in
-the pits. They are rarely, if ever, so straight as other
-women who stop above ground."<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> Mr. William Gaulter,
-surgeon, of Over Darwen, says—"Has practised as a
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
-surgeon twenty-four years in this neighbourhood.
-Those who work in collieries at an early age, when
-they arrive at maturity are not generally so robust as
-those who work elsewhere. They are frequently
-crooked, (not distorted,) bow-legged, and stooping."<a name="FNanchor_33_33"
-id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a>
-Betty Duxberry, whose children work in the pits, asserts
-that "colliers are all crooked and short-legged,
-not like other men who work above ground; but they
-were always colliers, and always will be. This young
-boy turns his feet out and his knees together; drawing
-puts them out of shape."<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Evidence collected in Durham and Northumberland,
-shows that the underground labour produces similar
-effects in that district.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Nicholas Wood, viewer of Killingworth, Hetton,
-and other collieries:—"The children are perhaps a
-little ill-formed, and the majority of them pale, and not
-robust. Men working in low seams are bent double
-and bow-legged very often."<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> J. Brown, M. D. and
-J. P., Sunderland:—"They labour more frequently
-than other classes of the community under deformity
-of the lower limbs, especially that variety of it described
-as being 'in-kneed.' This I should ascribe to
-yielding of the ligaments, owing to long standing in the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
-mines in a constrained and awkward position."<a name="FNanchor_36_36"
-id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> Mr.
-Thomas Greenshaw, surgeon, Walker colliery:—"Their
-persons are apt to be somewhat curved and cramped.
-As they advance in life, their knees and back frequently
-exhibit a curved appearance, from constant
-bending at their work."<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> Mr. W. Morrison, surgeon
-of Pelaw House, Chester le street, Countess of Durham's
-collieries:—"The 'outward man' distinguishes a
-pit-man from any other operative. His stature is
-diminished, his figure disproportionate and misshapen;
-his legs being much bowed; his chest protruding, (the
-thoracic region being unequally developed.) His countenance
-is not less striking than his figure—his cheeks
-being generally hollow, his brow over-hanging, his cheek-bones
-high, his forehead low and retreating. Nor is
-his appearance healthful—his habit is tainted with
-scrofula. I have seen agricultural labourers, blacksmiths,
-carpenters, and even those among the wan and
-distressed-looking weavers of Nottinghamshire, to
-whom the term 'jolly' might not be inaptly applied;
-but I never saw a 'jolly-looking' pit-man. As the germ
-of this physical degeneration may be formed in the
-youthful days of the pit-man, it is desirable to look for
-its cause."<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Ruptures, rheumatism, diseases of the heart and of
-other organs, the results of over-exertion in unhealthy
-places, are common among the persons employed in the
-mines, as many intelligent persons testified before the
-commissioners.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">An employment often pursued under circumstances
-which bring with them so many and such formidable
-diseases, must prematurely exhaust the strength of ordinary
-constitutions; and the evidence collected in
-almost all the districts proves that too often the collier
-is a disabled man, with the marks of old age upon him,
-while other men have scarcely passed beyond their
-prime.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The evidence shows that in South Staffordshire and
-Shropshire, many colliers are incapable of following
-their occupation after they are forty years of age;
-others continue their work up to fifty, which is stated
-by several witnesses to be about the general average.
-Mr. Marcy, clerk to the Wellington Union, Salop,
-states, that "at about forty the greater part of the
-colliers may be considered as disabled, and regular old
-men—as much as some are at eighty."<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Even in Warwickshire and Leicestershire, in which
-their physical condition is better than in any other districts,
-Mr. Michael Parker, ground bailiff of the Smithson
-collieries, states that "some of the men are
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
-knocked up at forty-five and fifty, and that fifty may
-be the average; which early exhaustion of the physical
-strength he attributes to the severe labour and bad
-air."<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a>
-Mr. Dalby, surgeon of the Union of Ashby-de-la-Zouch,
-says—"The work in the pit is very laborious,
-and some are unable for it as early as fifty,
-others at forty-five, and some at sixty; I should say
-the greater part at forty-five."<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> And Mr. Davenport,
-clerk of the Union of Ashby-de-la-Zouch, gives a higher
-average, and says that "a collier may wear from
-sixty-five to seventy, while an agricultural labourer
-may wear from seventy to seventy-five."<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Of Derbyshire the sub-commissioner reports—"I
-have not perceived that look of premature old age so
-general amongst colliers, <i>until they are forty years of
-age</i>, excepting in the loaders, who evidently appear so
-at <i>twenty-eight or thirty</i>, and this I think must arise
-from the hardness of their labour, in having such great
-weights to lift, and breathing a worse atmosphere than
-any other in the pit."<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> Phoebe Gilbert states—"The
-loaders are, as the saying is, 'old men before they
-are young ones.'"<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> Dr. Blake says—"He has also
-noticed that when a collier has worked from a child,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
-and becomes forty, he looks much older than those of
-the same age above ground."<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Yorkshire "the collier of fifty is usually an aged
-man; he looks overstrained and stiffened by labour."<a name="FNanchor_46_46"
-id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a>
-"But whilst both the child and the adult miner appear
-to enjoy excellent health, and to be remarkably free
-from disease, it nevertheless appears that their labour,
-at least that of the adult miner, is, in its general result,
-and in the extent to which it is pursued, of a character
-more severe than the constitution is properly able to
-bear. It is rare that a collier is able to follow his
-calling beyond the age of from forty to fifty, and then,
-unless he be fortunate enough to obtain some easier
-occupation, he sinks into a state of helpless dependence.
-Better habits with regard to temperance might
-diminish, but would not remove, this evil; and the
-existence of this fact, in despite of the general healthiness
-of the collier population, gives rise to the question
-whether, apart from all considerations of mental
-and moral improvement, a fatal mistake is not committed
-in employing children of tender years to the
-extent that their strength will bear, instead of giving
-opportunity, by short hours of labour, for the fuller
-and more perfect physical development which would
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
-better fit them to go through the severe labour of their
-after-life."<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the coal-fields of North Durham and Northumberland,
-Dr. Elliott states "that premature old age in
-appearance is common; men of thirty-five or forty
-years may often be taken for ten years older than they
-really are."<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> Mr. Thomas Greenhow, surgeon, Walker
-Colliery, North Durham, says "they have an aged
-aspect somewhat early in life."<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> Of the effect of employment
-in the coal-mines of the East of Scotland, in
-producing an early and irreparable deterioration of the
-physical condition, the sub-commissioner thus reports:
-"In a state of society such as has been described, the
-condition of the children may be easily imagined, and
-its baneful influence on the health cannot well be
-exaggerated; and I am informed by very competent
-authorities, that six months labour in the mines is sufficient
-to effect a very visible change in the physical
-condition of the children; and indeed it is scarcely
-possible to conceive of circumstances more calculated to
-sow the seeds of future disease, and, to borrow the language
-of the Instructions, to prevent the organs from
-being fully developed, to enfeeble and disorder their
-functions, and to subject the whole system to injury
-which cannot be repaired at any subsequent stage of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
-life."<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> In the West of Scotland, Dr. Thompson, Ayr,
-says—"A collier at fifty generally has the appearance
-of a man ten years older than he is."<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The sub-committee for North Wales reports—"They
-fail in health and strength early in life. At thirty a
-miner begins to look wan and emaciated, and so does a
-collier at forty; while the farming labourer continues
-robust and hearty."<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> John Jones, relieving officer for
-the Holywell district, states—"Though the children
-and young persons employed in these works are healthy,
-still it is observable that they soon get to look old, and
-they often become asthmatic before they are forty."<a name="FNanchor_53_53"
-id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the Forest of Dean, Mr. Thomas Marsh, surgeon,
-states that "colliers usually become old men at fifty
-to fifty-five years of age."<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> In North Somersetshire,
-William Brice, clerk and manager, says "there are
-very few at work who are above fifty years of age."<a name="FNanchor_55_55"
-id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Early death is the natural consequence of the premature
-decrepitude thus described to those whom ever-imminent
-casualities have not brought to the grave during
-the years of their vigour. The medical evidence
-shows that even in South Staffordshire and Shropshire,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
-comparatively few miners attain their fifty-first year.
-In Warwickshire and Leicestershire it is not uncommon
-for the men to follow their occupation ten years longer;
-but all classes of witnesses in the other districts uniformly
-state that it is rare to see an old collier.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Derbyshire, William Wardle "does not think
-colliers live as long as those above ground; very few
-live to be sixty."<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Yorkshire, "colliers have harder work than any
-other class of workmen, and the length of time they
-work, as well as the intense exertion they undergo,
-added to the frequent unhealthiness of the atmosphere,
-decidedly tend to shorten their lives."<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> Mr. Henry
-Hemmingway, surgeon, Dewsbury, states—"I only
-knew one old collier."<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> Mr. Thomas Rayner, surgeon,
-Bristall, says—"I have had twenty-seven years' practice,
-and I know of no old colliers—their extreme term
-of life is from fifty-six to sixty years of age."<a name="FNanchor_59_59"
-id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> In
-Lancashire, states Mr. Kennedy, "it appeared to me
-that the number of aged men was much smaller than in
-other occupations."<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a
-href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">After stating that the colliers of South Durham are
-a strong and healthy race, Dr. Mitchell adds—"The
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
-work, however, is laborious and exhausting; and the
-colliers, though healthy, are not long-lived."<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> John
-Wetherell Hays, clerk of the Union, Durham, states,
-"that the colliers are not long-lived; that they live
-well, and live fast."<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> And George Canney, medical
-practitioner, Bishop Auckland, says "they are generally
-short-lived."<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The sub-commissioner for the East of Scotland reports,
-that after a careful consideration of all the
-sources of information which could assist him in the
-object of his inquiry, he arrives at the following conclusion:—"That
-the labour in the coal-mines in the Lothian
-and River Forth districts of Scotland is most
-severe, and that its severity is in many cases increased by
-the want of proper attention to the economy of mining
-operations; whence those operations, as at present carried
-on, are extremely unwholesome, and productive of diseases
-which have a manifest tendency to shorten life."<a name="FNanchor_64_64"
-id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a>
-Mr. Walter Jarvie, manager to Mr. Cadell, of Banton,
-states that "in the small village of Banton there are
-nearly forty widows; and as the children work always
-on parents' behalf, it prevents them having recourse to
-the kirk-session for relief."<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> Elsper Thompson says,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
-"Most of the men begin to complain at thirty to thirty-five
-years of age, and drop off before they get the
-length of forty."<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> Henry Naysmith, sixty-five years
-of age, collier, who says he has wrought upward of
-fifty years, adds that "he has been off work nearly ten
-years, and is much afflicted with shortness of breath: it
-is the bane of the colliers, and few men live to my
-age."<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In North Wales, it is said that "few colliers come to
-the age of sixty, and but still fewer miners. This I
-believe to be the fact, though I met with many, both
-miners and colliers, who had attained the age of sixty;
-yet they were few compared with the number <i>employed</i>
-in these branches of industry."<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> Mr. John Jones,
-relieving-officer for the Holywell district, "thinks they
-are not as long-lived as agriculturists."<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> James Jones,
-overman, Cyfarthfa Works, states "that the colliers
-are generally very healthy and strong up to the age of
-forty or fifty; they then often have a difficulty of
-breathing, and they die at younger ages than agricultural
-labourers or handicraftsmen."<a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> Mr. John Hughes,
-assistant underground agent, says "they do not appear
-to live long after fifty or sixty years old."<a name="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a></p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In South Wales, the sub-commissioner reports that he
-"has not been able to ascertain, for want of sufficient
-data, the average duration of a collier's life in the
-counties either of Glamorgan or Monmouth, but it is
-admitted that such average duration is less than that
-of a common labourer. In the county of Pembroke,
-however, Mr. James Bowen, surgeon, Narbeth, in that
-county, informs me—"The average life of a collier is
-about forty; they rarely attain forty-five years of age;
-and in the entire population of Begelly and East Williamson,
-being 1163, forming, strictly speaking, a
-mining population, there are not six colliers of sixty
-years of age."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The Rev. Richard Buckby, rector of Begelly, in
-answer to one of the queries in the Educational Paper
-of the Central Board, writes—"The foul air of the
-mines seriously affects the lungs of the children and
-young persons employed therein, and shortens the term
-of life. In a population of one thousand, there are
-not six colliers sixty years of age."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">There are certain minor evils connected with employment
-in the worst class of coal-mines, which, though not
-perhaps very serious, are nevertheless sources of much
-suffering, such as irritation of the head, feet, back, and
-skin, together with occasional strains. "The upper
-parts of their head are always denuded of hair; their
-scalps are also thickened and inflamed, sometimes
-taking on the appearance <i>tinea capitis</i>, from the pressure
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
-and friction which they undergo in the act of
-pushing the corves forward, although they are mostly
-defended by a padded cap."<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> "It is no uncommon
-thing to see the hurriers bald, owing to pushing the
-corves up steep board gates, with their heads."<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Alexander Muir, surgeon: "Are there any peculiar
-diseases to which colliers are subject? No, excepting
-that the hurriers are occasionally affected by a
-formation of matter upon the forehead, in consequence
-of pushing the wagons with their head. To what extent
-is such formation of matter injurious to the
-general health? It produces considerable local irritation.
-When the matter is allowed to escape, it heals
-as perfectly as before. Do you conceive this use of
-the head to be a necessary or unnecessary part of their
-occupation? I should think it not necessary. Does it
-arise from any deficiency of strength, the head being
-used to supply the place of the arms? I should think
-it does."<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> David Swallow, collier, East Moor: "The
-hair is very often worn off bald, and the part is swollen
-so that sometimes it is like a bulb filled with spongy
-matter; so very bad after they have done their day's
-work that they cannot bear it touching."<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> William
-Holt: "Some thrutched with their heads, because
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
-they cannot thrutch enough with their hands alone.
-Thrutching with their heads makes a gathering in the
-head, and makes them very ill."<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In running continually over uneven ground, without
-shoes or stockings, particles of dirt, coal, and stone get
-between the toes, and are prolific sources of irritation
-and lameness, of which they often complain; the skin
-covering the balls of the toes and heels becomes thickened
-and horny, occasioning a good deal of pain and
-pustular gathering."<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> James Mitchell: "I have hurt
-my feet often; sometimes the coals cut them, and they
-run matter, and the corves run over them when I stand
-agate; I an't not always aware of their coming."<a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a>
-Selina Ambler: "I many times hurt my feet and legs
-with the coals and scale in gate; sometimes we run
-corve over them; my feet have many a time been
-blooded."<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> Mrs. Carr: "Has known many foals laid
-off with sore backs, especially last year and the year
-before, when the putting was said to be very heavy in
-the Flatworth pit. Some foals had to lay off a day or
-two, to get their backs healed, before they could go to
-work again."<a name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a> William Jakes: "His back is often
-skinned; is now sore and all red, from holding on or
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
-back against the corf."<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> George Faction: "In some
-places he bends quite double, and rubs his back so as to
-bring the skin off, and whiles to make it bleed, and
-whiles he is off work from these things."<a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> Mr. James
-Probert, surgeon: "Chronic pain in the back is a
-very common complaint among colliers, arising from
-overstrained tendonous muscles, and it is the source of
-much discomfort to the colliers."<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> Mr. William Dodd,
-surgeon: "As to the 'boils,' when a fresh man comes
-to the colliery he generally becomes affected by these
-'boils,' most probably from the heat in the first instance,
-and subsequently they are aggravated by the salt
-water."<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> James Johnson: "Sometimes when among
-the salt water, the heat, etc., brings out boils about the
-size of a hen's egg upon him, about his legs and thighs,
-and under his arms sometimes. A vast of boys, men,
-and all, have these boils at times. These boils perhaps
-last a fortnight before they get ripe, and then they
-burst. A great white thing follows, and is called a
-'tanner'."<a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a> Dr. Adams, Glasgow: "An eruption on
-the skin is very prevalent among colliers."<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> William
-Mackenzie: "Had about twenty boils on his back at
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
-one time, about two years since. These lasted about
-three months. He was kept off work about a week.
-If he touched them against any thing they were like
-death to him. But few of the boys have so many at a
-time; many of the boys get two or three at a time.
-The boys take physic to bring them all out; then they
-get rid of them for some time. If the salt water falls
-on any part of them that is scotched, it burns into the
-flesh like; it is like red rust. It almost blinds the
-boys if it gets into their eyes."<a name="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Accidents of a fatal nature are of frightful frequency
-in the mines. In one year there were three
-hundred and forty-nine deaths by violence in the coal-mines
-of England alone. Of the persons thus killed,
-fifty-eight were under thirteen years of age; sixty-two
-under eighteen, and the remainder over eighteen.
-One of the most frequent causes of accidents is the
-want of superintendence to see the security of the machinery
-for letting down and bringing up the work-people,
-and the restriction of the number of persons
-who ascend or descend at the same time. The commissioners
-observed at Elland two hurriers, named Ann
-Ambler and William Dyson, cross-lapped upon a clutch-iron,
-drawn up by a woman. As soon as they arrived
-at the top the handle was made fast by a bolt. The
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>
-woman then grasped a hand of both at the same time,
-and by main force brought them to land.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">From all the evidence adduced, the commissioners
-came to the following conclusions:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In regard to coal-mines—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That instances occur in which children are taken into these
-mines to work as early as four years of age, sometimes at five,
-and between five and six; not unfrequently between six and
-seven, and often from seven to eight; while from eight to nine is
-the ordinary age at which employment in these mines commences.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That a very large proportion of the persons employed in carrying
-on the work of these mines is under thirteen years of age;
-and a still larger proportion between thirteen and eighteen.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That in several districts female children begin to work in
-these mines at the same early ages as the males.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That the great body of the children and young persons employed
-in these mines are of the families of the adult work-people
-engaged in the pits, or belong to the poorest population in
-the neighbourhood, and are hired and paid in some districts by
-the work-people, but in others by the proprietors or contractors.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That there are in some districts, also, a small number of
-parish apprentices, who are bound to serve their masters until
-twenty-one years of age, in an employment in which there is
-nothing deserving the name of skill to be acquired, under circumstances
-of frequent ill-treatment, and under the oppressive condition
-that they shall receive only food and clothing, while their
-free companions may be obtaining a man's wages.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That, in many instances, much that skill and capital can effect
-to render the place of work unoppressive and healthy and safe,
-is done, often with complete success, as far as regards the healthfulness
-and comfort of the mines; but that to render them perfectly
-safe does not appear to be practicable by any means yet
-known; while, in great numbers of instances, their condition in
-regard both to ventilation and drainage is lamentably defective.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"That the nature of the employment which is assigned to the
-youngest children—generally that of 'trapping'—requires that
-they should be in the pit as soon as the work of the day commences,
-and, according to the present system, that they should
-not leave the pit before the work of the day is at an end.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That although this employment scarcely deserves the name
-of labour, yet, as the children engaged in it are commonly excluded
-from light, and are always without companions, it would,
-were it not for the passing and repassing of the coal-carriages,
-amount to solitary confinement of the worst sort.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That in those districts where the seams of coal are so thick
-that horses go direct to the workings, or in which the side passages
-from the workings to the horseways are not of any great
-length, the lights in the main way render the situation of the
-children comparatively less cheerless, dull, and stupefying; but
-that in some districts they are in solitude and darkness during
-the whole time they are in the pit; and, according to their own
-account, many of them never see the light of day for weeks
-together during the greater part of the winter season, except on
-those days in the week when work is not going on, and on the
-Sundays.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That, at different ages from six years old and upward, the
-hard work of pushing and dragging the carriages of coal from
-the workings to the main ways, or to the foot of the shaft, begins;
-a labour which all classes of witnesses concur in stating requires
-the unremitting exertion of all the physical power which the
-young workers possess.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That, in the districts in which females are taken down into the
-coal-mines, both sexes are employed together in precisely the same
-kind of labour, and work for the same number of hours; that the
-girls and boys, and the young men and young women, and even
-married women and women with child, commonly work almost
-naked, and the men, in many mines, quite naked; and that all
-classes of witnesses bear testimony to the demoralizing influence
-of the employment of females under ground.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That, in the East of Scotland, a much larger proportion of
-children and young persons are employed in these mines than in
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
-any other districts, many of whom are girls; and that the chief
-part of their labour consists in carrying the coal on their backs
-up steep ladders.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That, when the work-people are in full employment, the regular
-hours of work for children and young persons are rarely
-less than eleven, more often they are twelve; in some districts
-they are thirteen, and in one district they are generally fourteen
-and upward.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That, in the great majority of these mines, night-work is a part
-of the ordinary system of labour, more or less regularly carried
-on according to the demand for coals, and one which the whole
-body of evidence shows to act most injuriously both on the physical
-and moral condition of the work-people, and more especially
-on that of the children and young persons.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That the labour performed daily for this number of hours,
-though it cannot strictly be said to be continuous, because, from
-the nature of the employment, intervals of a few minutes necessarily
-occur during which the muscles are not in active exertion,
-is, nevertheless, generally uninterrupted by any regular time set
-apart for rest or refreshment; what food is taken in the pit being
-eaten as best it may while the labour continues.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That in all well-regulated mines, in which in general the
-hours of work are the shortest, and in some few of which from
-half an hour to an hour is regularly set apart for meals, little or
-no fatigue is complained of after an ordinary day's work, when
-the children are ten years old and upward; but in other instances
-great complaint is made of the feeling of fatigue, and the
-work-people are never without this feeling, often in an extremely
-painful degree.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That in many cases the children and young persons have
-little cause of complaint in regard to the treatment they receive
-from the persons of authority in the mine, or from the colliers;
-but that in general the younger children are roughly used by
-their older companions, while in many mines the conduct of the
-adult colliers to the children and adult persons who assist them
-is harsh and cruel; the persons in authority in these mines, who
-must be cognizant of this ill-usage, never interfering to prevent
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
-it, and some of them distinctly stating that they do not conceive
-that they have any right to do so.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That, with some exceptions, little interest is taken by the
-coal-owners in the children or young persons employed in their
-works after the daily labour is over; at least, little is done to
-afford them the means of enjoying innocent amusement and
-healthful recreation.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That in all the coal fields accidents of a fearful nature are
-extremely frequent; and that the returns made to our own queries,
-as well as the registry tables, prove that, of the work-people who
-perish by such accidents, the proportion of children and young persons
-sometimes equals and rarely falls much below that of adults.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That one of the most frequent causes of accidents in these
-mines is the want of superintendence by overlookers or otherwise,
-to see to the security of the machinery for letting down and bringing
-up the work-people, the restriction of the number of persons
-that ascend and descend at a time, the state of the mine as to the
-quantity of noxious gas in it, the efficiency of the ventilation, the
-exactness with which the air-door keepers perform their duty, the
-places into which it is safe or unsafe to go with a naked lighted
-candle, the security of the proppings to uphold the roof, &c.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That another frequent cause of fatal accidents is the almost
-universal practice of intrusting the closing of the air-doors to very
-young children.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That there are many mines in which the most ordinary precautions
-to guard against accidents are neglected, and in which
-no money appears to be expended with a view to secure the safety,
-much less the comfort, of the work-people.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There are, moreover, two practices, peculiar to a few districts,
-which deserve the highest reprobation, namely,—first, the practice,
-not unknown in some of the smaller mines in Yorkshire, and
-common in Lancashire, in employing ropes that are unsafe for
-letting down and drawing up the work-people; and second, the
-practice occasionally met with in Yorkshire, and common in Derbyshire
-and Lancashire, of employing boys at the steam-engines
-for letting down and drawing up the work-people."—<i>First Report,
-Conclusions</i>, p. 255-257.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Well, what did the British Government do when the
-heart-rending report of the commissioners was received?
-It felt the necessity of a show of legislative interference.
-Lord Ashley introduced a bill into the House of Commons,
-having for its object the amelioration of the condition
-of the mining women and children. Much discussion
-occurred. The bill passed the House of Commons,
-and was taken to the House of Lords, the high court of
-British oppression. Some lords advocated the measure,
-whereupon Lord Londonderry and some others spoke
-of them as "bitten with a humanity mania." Modifications
-were made in the bill to suit the pockets of the
-luxurious proprietors, and then it was grumblingly
-adopted. What did the bill provide? That no child
-under <i>ten</i> years of age, and no woman or girl, of any
-age, should be allowed to work in a mine. Now, children
-may be ten years of age, and above that, and yet
-they are still tender little creatures. The majority of
-the sufferers who came to the notice of the commissioners
-were above ten years of age! In that point,
-at least, the bill was worse than a nullity—it was a base
-deceit, pouring balm, but not upon the wound!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The same bill provided that no females should be
-allowed to work in the mines. But then the females
-were driven to the mines by the dread of starvation.
-Soon after the passage of the bill, petitions from the
-mining districts were sent to Parliament, praying that
-females might be allowed to work in the mines. The
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
-petitioners had no means of getting bread. If they
-had, they would never have been in the mines at all.
-The horrors of labour in the mines were consequences
-of the general slavery. Well, there were many proprietors
-of mines in Parliament, and their influence
-was sufficient to nullify the law in practice. There is
-good authority for believing that the disgusting slavery
-of the British mines has been ameliorated only to a very
-limited extent.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">SLAVERY IN THE BRITISH FACTORIES.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">Great Britain</span> has long gloried in the variety and
-importance of her manufactures. Burke spoke of Birmingham
-as the toyshop of Europe; and, at this day,
-the looms of Manchester and the other factory towns
-of England furnish the dry-goods of a large portion of
-the world. Viewed at a distance, this wonder-working
-industry excites astonishment and admiration; but a
-closer inspection will show us such corrupt and gloomy
-features in this vast manufacturing system as will turn
-a portion of admiration into shrinking disgust. Giving
-the meed of praise to the perfection of machinery and
-the excellence of the fabrics, what shall we say of the
-human operatives? For glory purchased at the price
-of blood and souls is a vanity indeed. Let us see!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The number of persons employed in the cotton, wool,
-silk, and flax manufactures of Great Britain is estimated
-at about two millions. Mr. Baines states that about
-one and a half million are employed in the cotton manufactures
-alone. The whole number employed in the
-production of all sorts of iron, hardware, and cutlery
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
-articles is estimated at 350,000. In the manufacture
-of jewelry, earthen and glass ware, paper, woollen stuffs,
-distilled and fermented liquors, and in the common
-trades of tailoring, shoemaking, carpentering, &c., the
-numbers employed are very great, though not accurately
-known. We think the facts will bear us out in
-stating that this vast body of operatives suffer more of
-the real miseries of slavery than any similar class upon
-the face of the earth.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the first place, admitting that wages are as high
-in Great Britain as in any continental country, the
-enormous expenses of the church and aristocracy produce
-a taxation which eats up so large a portion of
-these wages, that there is not enough left to enable the
-workman to live decently and comfortably. But the
-wages are, in general, brought very low by excessive
-competition; and, in consequence, the operative must
-stretch his hours of toil far beyond all healthy limits to
-earn enough to pay taxes and support himself. It is
-the struggle of drowning men, and what wonder if many
-sink beneath the gloomy waves?</p>
-
-<p class="i1">When C. Edwards Lester, an author of reputation, was
-in England, he visited Manchester, and, making inquiries
-of an operative, obtained the following reply:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"I have a wife and nine children, and a pretty hard time we
-have too, we are so many; and most of the children are so small,
-they can do little for the support of the family. I generally get
-from two shillings to a crown a day for carrying luggage; and
-some of my children are in the mills; and the rest are too young
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>
-to work yet. My wife is never well, and it comes pretty hard on
-her to do the work of the whole family. We often talk these
-things over, and feel pretty sad. We live in a poor house; we
-can't clothe our children comfortably; not one of them ever went
-to school: they could go to the Sunday-school, but we can't make
-them look decent enough to go to such a place. As for meat, we
-never taste it; potatoes and coarse bread are our principal food.
-We can't save any thing for a day of want; almost every thing
-we get for our work seems to go for taxes. We are taxed for
-something almost every week in the year. We have no time to
-ourselves when we are free from work. It seems that our life is
-all toil; I sometimes almost give up. Life isn't worth much to a
-poor man in England; and sometimes Mary and I, when we talk
-about it, pretty much conclude that we all should be better off if
-we were dead. I have gone home at night a great many times,
-and told my wife when she said supper was ready, that I had
-taken a bite at a chophouse on the way, and was not hungry—she
-and the children could eat my share. Yes, I have said this a
-great many times when I felt pretty hungry myself. I sometimes
-wonder that God suffers so many poor people to come into the
-world."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">And this is, comparatively, a mild case. Instances
-of hard-working families living in dark, damp cellars,
-and having the coarsest food, are common in Manchester,
-Birmingham, and other manufacturing towns.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Mrs. Gaskell, in her thrilling novel, "Mary Barton,
-a Tale of Manchester Life," depicts without exaggeration
-the sufferings of the operatives and their families
-when work is a little slack, or when, by accident, they
-are thrown out of employment for a short period. A
-large factory, belonging to a Mr. Carson, had been
-destroyed by fire, and about the same time, as trade
-was had, some mills shortened hours, turned off hands,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
-and finally stopped work altogether. Almost inconceivable
-misery followed among the unemployed workmen.
-In the best of times they fared hardly; now they
-were forced to live in damp and filthy cellars, and many
-perished, either from starvation or from fevers bred in
-their horrible residences. One cold evening John Barton
-received a hurried visit from a fellow-operative, named
-George Wilson.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'You've not got a bit o' money by you, Barton?' asked he.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Not I; who has now, I'd like to know? Whatten you want
-it for?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I donnot want it for mysel, tho' we've none to spare. But don
-ye know Ben Davenport as worked at Carson's? He's down wi'
-the fever, and ne'er a stick o' fire, nor a cowd potato in the house.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I han got no money, I tell ye,' said Barton. Wilson looked
-disappointed. Barton tried not to be interested, but he could not
-help it in spite of his gruffness. He rose, and went to the cupboard,
-(his wife's pride long ago.) There lay the remains of his
-dinner, hastily put there ready for supper. Bread, and a slice of
-cold, fat, boiled bacon. He wrapped them in his handkerchief,
-put them in the crown of his hat, and said—'Come, let's be going.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Going—art thou going to work this time o' day?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No, stupid, to be sure not. Going to see the fellow thou spoke
-on.' So they put on their hats and set out. On the way Wilson
-said Davenport was a good fellow, though too much of the Methodee;
-that his children were too young to work, but not too
-young to be cold and hungry; that they had sunk lower and
-lower, and pawned thing after thing, and that now they lived in
-in a cellar in Berry-street, off Store-street. Barton growled inarticulate
-words of no benevolent import to a large class of mankind,
-and so they went along till they arrived in Berry-street. It was
-unpaved; and down the middle a gutter forced its way, every
-now and then forming pools in the holes with which the street
-abounded. Never was the Old Edinburgh cry of 'Gardez l'eau,'
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
-more necessary than in this street. As they passed, women from
-their doors tossed household slops of <i>every</i> description into the
-gutter; they ran into the next pool, which overflowed and stagnated.
-Heaps of ashes were the stepping-stones, on which the
-passer-by, who cared in the least for cleanliness, took care not to
-put his foot. Our friends were not dainty, but even they picked
-their way till they got to some steps leading down into a small
-area, where a person standing would have his head about one foot
-below the level of the street, and might, at the same time, without
-the least motion of his body, touch the window of the cellar and
-the damp, muddy wall right opposite. You went down one step
-even from the foul area into the cellar, in which a family of human
-beings lived. It was very dark inside. The window panes were
-many of them broken and stuffed with rags, which was reason
-enough for the dusky light that pervaded the place even at mid-day.
-After the account I have given of the state of the street, no
-one can be surprised that, on going into the cellar inhabited by
-Davenport, the smell was so fetid as almost to knock the two
-men down. Quickly recovering themselves, as those inured to
-such things do, they began to penetrate the thick darkness of the
-place, and to see three or four little children rolling on the damp,
-nay, wet, brick floor, through which the stagnant, filthy moisture
-of the street oozed up; the fireplace was empty and black; the
-wife sat on her husband's lair, and cried in the dank loneliness.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'See, missis, I'm back again. Hold your noise, children, and
-don't mither (trouble) your mammy for bread, here's a chap as
-has got some for you.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In that dim light, which was darkness to strangers, they
-clustered round Barton, and tore from him the food he had
-brought with him. It was a large hunch of bread, but it had
-vanished in an instant.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'We maun do summut for 'em,' said he to Wilson. 'Yo stop
-here, and I'll be back in half an hour.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"So he strode, and ran, and hurried home. He emptied into the
-ever-useful pocket-handkerchief the little meal remaining in the
-mug. Mary would have her tea at Miss Simmonds'; her food for
-the day was safe. Then he went up-stairs for his better coat, and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>
-his one, gay, red and yellow silk pocket-handkerchief—his jewels,
-his plate, his valuables these were. He went to the pawn-shop;
-he pawned them for five shillings; he stopped not, nor stayed, till
-he was once more in London Road, within five minutes' walk of
-Berry-street—then he loitered in his gait, in order to discover the
-shops he wanted. He bought meat, and a loaf of bread, candles,
-chips, and from a little retail yard he purchased a couple of hundredweights
-of coals. Some money yet remained—all destined
-for them, but he did not yet know how best to spend it. Food,
-light, and warmth, he had instantly seen, were necessary; for
-luxuries he would wait. Wilson's eyes filled with tears when he
-saw Barton enter with his purchases. He understood it all, and
-longed to be once more in work, that he might help in some of
-these material ways, without feeling that he was using his son's
-money. But though 'silver and gold he had none,' he gave heart-service
-and love-works of far more value. Nor was John Barton
-behind in these. 'The fever' was (as it usually is in Manchester)
-of a low, putrid, typhoid kind; brought on by miserable living,
-filthy neighbourhood, and great depression of mind and body. It
-is virulent, malignant, and highly infectious. But the poor are
-fatalists with regard to infection; and well for them it is so, for
-in their crowded dwellings no invalid can be isolated. Wilson
-asked Barton if he thought he should catch it, and was laughed
-at for his idea.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The two men, rough, tender nurses as they were, lighted the
-fire, which smoked and puffed into the room as if it did not know
-the way up the damp, unused chimney. The very smoke seemed
-purifying and healthy in the thick clammy air. The children
-clamoured again for bread; but this time Barton took a piece first
-to the poor, helpless, hopeless woman, who still sat by the side
-of her husband, listening to his anxious, miserable mutterings.
-She took the bread, when it was put into her hand, and broke a
-bit, but could not eat. She was past hunger. She fell down on
-the floor with a heavy, unresisting bang. The men looked puzzled.
-'She's wellnigh clemmed, (<i>starved</i>,)' said Barton. 'Folk do say
-one musn't give clemmed people much to eat; but, bless us, she'll
-eat naught.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">'I'll tell you what I'll do,' said Wilson, I'll take these two big
-lads, as does naught but fight, home to my missis's for to-night,
-and I will get a jug o' tea. Them women always does best with
-tea and such slop.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"So Barton was now left alone with a little child, crying, when
-it had done eating, for mammy, with a fainting, dead-like woman,
-and with the sick man, whose mutterings were rising up to screams
-and shrieks of agonized anxiety. He carried the woman to the
-fire, and chafed her hands. He looked around for something to
-raise her head. There was literally nothing but some loose bricks:
-however, those he got, and taking off his coat, he covered them
-with it as well as he could. He pulled her feet to the fire, which
-now began to emit some faint heat. He looked round for water,
-but the poor woman had been too weak to drag herself out to the
-distant pump, and water there was none. He snatched the child,
-and ran up the area steps to the room above, and borrowed their
-only saucepan with some water in it. Then he began, with the
-useful skill of a working man, to make some gruel; and, when it
-was hastily made, he seized a battered iron table-spoon, kept
-when many other little things had been sold in a lot, in order to
-feed baby, and with it he forced one or two drops between her
-clenched teeth. The mouth opened mechanically to receive more,
-and gradually she revived. She sat up and looked round; and,
-recollecting all, fell down again in weak and passive despair.
-Her little child crawled to her, and wiped with its fingers the
-thick-coming tears which she now had strength to weep. It was
-now high time to attend to the man. He lay on straw, so damp
-and mouldy no dog would have chosen it in preference to flags;
-over it was a piece of sacking, coming next to his worn skeleton
-of a body; above him was mustered every article of clothing that
-could be spared by mother or children this bitter weather; and,
-in addition to his own, these might have given as much warmth
-as one blanket, could they have been kept on him; but as he restlessly
-tossed to and fro, they fell off, and left him shivering in spite
-of the burning heat of his skin. Every now and then he started
-up in his naked madness, looking like the prophet of wo in the
-fearful plague-picture; but he soon fell again in exhaustion, and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
-Barton found he must be closely watched, lest in these falls he
-should injure himself against the hard brick floor. He was thankful
-when Wilson reappeared, carrying in both hands a jug of
-steaming tea, intended for the poor wife; but when the delirious
-husband saw drink, he snatched at it with animal instinct, with
-a selfishness he had never shown in health.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Then the two men consulted together. It seemed decided without
-a word being spoken on the subject, that both should spend
-the night with the forlorn couple; that was settled. But could
-no doctor be had? In all probability, no. The next day an infirmary
-order might be begged; but meanwhile the only medical
-advice they could have must be from a druggist's. So Barton,
-being the moneyed man, set out to find a shop in London Road.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"He reached a druggist's shop, and entered. The druggist,
-whose smooth manners seemed to have been salved over with his
-own spermaceti, listened attentively to Barton's description of
-Davenport's illness, concluded it was typhus fever, very prevalent
-in that neighbourhood, and proceeded to make up a bottle of medicine—sweet
-spirits of nitre, or some such innocent potion—very
-good for slight colds, but utterly powerless to stop for an instant
-the raging fever of the poor man it was intended to relieve. He
-recommended the same course they had previously determined to
-adopt, applying the next morning for an infirmary order; and
-Barton left the shop with comfortable faith in the physic given
-him; for men of his class, if they believe in physic at all, believe
-that every description is equally efficacious.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Meanwhile Wilson had done what he could at Davenport's
-home. He had soothed and covered the man many a time; he
-had fed and hushed the little child, and spoken tenderly to the
-woman, who lay still in her weakness and her weariness. He
-had opened a door, but only for an instant; it led into a back
-cellar, with a grating instead of a window, down which dropped
-the moisture from pig-styes, and worse abominations. It was not
-paved; the floor was one mass of bad-smelling mud. It had never
-been used, for there was not an article of furniture in it; nor
-could a human being, much less a pig, have lived there many
-days. Yet the 'back apartment' made a difference in the rent.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
-The Davenports paid threepence more for having two rooms.
-When he turned round again, he saw the woman suckling the
-child from her dry, withered breast.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Surely the lad is weaned!' exclaimed he, in surprise. 'Why,
-how old is he?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Going on two year,' she faintly answered. 'But, oh! it keeps
-him quiet when I've naught else to gi' him, and he'll get a bit of
-sleep lying there, if he's getten naught beside. We han done our
-best to gi' the childer food, howe'er we pinched ourselves.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Han ye had no money fra th' town?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No; my master is Buckinghamshire born, and he's feared
-the town would send him back to his parish, if he went to the
-board; so we've just borne on in hope o' better times. But I
-think they'll never come in my day;' and the poor woman began
-her weak, high-pitched cry again.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Here, sup this drop o' gruel, and then try and get a bit o'
-sleep. John and I'll watch by your master to-night.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'God's blessing be on you!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"She finished the gruel, and fell into a dead sleep. Wilson
-covered her with his coat as well as he could, and tried to move
-lightly for fear of disturbing her; but there need have been no
-such dread, for her sleep was profound and heavy with exhaustion.
-Once only she roused to pull the coat round her little child.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"And now, all Wilson's care, and Barton's to boot, was wanted
-to restrain the wild, mad agony of the fevered man. He started
-up, he yelled, he seemed infuriated by overwhelming anxiety.
-He cursed and swore, which surprised Wilson, who knew his piety
-in health, and who did not know the unbridled tongue of delirium.
-At length he seemed exhausted, and fell asleep; and Barton and
-Wilson drew near the fire, and talked together in whispers. They
-sat on the floor, for chairs there were none; the sole table was an
-old tub turned upside down. They put out the candle and conversed
-by the flickering fire-light.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Han yo known this chap long?' asked Barton.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Better nor three year. He's worked wi' Carsons that long,
-and were always a steady, civil-spoken fellow, though, as I said
-afore, somewhat of a Methodee. I wish I'd gotten a letter he sent
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
-to his missis, a week or two agone, when he were on tramp for
-work. It did my heart good to read it; for yo see, I were a bit
-grumbling mysel; it seemed hard to be sponging on Jem, and
-taking a' his flesh-meat money to buy bread for me and them as
-I ought to be keeping. But, yo know, though I can earn naught,
-I mun eat summut. Well, as I telled ye, I were grumbling,
-when she,' indicating the sleeping woman by a nod, 'brought me
-Ben's letter, for she could na read hersel. It were as good as
-Bible-words; ne'er a word o' repining; a' about God being our
-father, and that we mun bear patiently whate'er he sends.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Don ye think he's th' masters' father, too? I'd be loth to
-have 'em for brothers.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Eh, John! donna talk so; sure there's many and many a
-master as good nor better than us.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'If you think so, tell me this. How comes it they're rich, and
-we're poor? I'd like to know that. Han they done as they'd be
-done by for us?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But Wilson was no arguer—no speechifier, as he would have
-called it. So Barton, seeing he was likely to have his own way,
-went on—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You'll say, at least many a one does, they'n getten capital,
-an' we'n getten none. I say, our labour's our capital, and we
-ought to draw interest on that. They get interest on their
-capital somehow a' this time, while ourn is lying idle, else how
-could they all live as they do? Besides, there's many on 'em as
-had naught to begin wi'; there's Carsons, and Duncombes, and
-Mengies, and many another as comed into Manchester with
-clothes to their backs, and that were all, and now they're worth
-their tens of thousands, a' gotten out of our labour; why the very
-land as fetched but sixty pound twenty years agone is now worth
-six hundred, and that, too, is owing to our labour; but look at yo,
-and see me, and poor Davenport yonder. Whatten better are we?
-They'n screwed us down to th' lowest peg, in order to make their
-great big fortunes, and build their great big houses, and we—why,
-we're just clemming, many and many of us. Can you say there's
-naught wrong in this?'"</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">These poor fellows, according to the story, took care
-of Davenport till he died in that loathsome cellar, and
-then had him decently buried. They knew not how
-soon his fate would overtake them, and they would then
-want friends. In the mean time, while disease and
-starvation were doing their work among the poor operatives,
-their masters were lolling on sofas, and, in the
-recreations of an evening, spending enough to relieve a
-hundred families. Perhaps, also, the masters' wives
-were concocting petitions on the subject of negro-slavery—that
-kind of philanthropy costing very little
-money or self-sacrifice.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">It may be said that the story of "Mary Barton" is a
-fiction; but it must not be forgotten that it is the work
-of an English writer, and that its scenes are professedly
-drawn from the existing realities of life in Manchester,
-where the author resided. In the same work, we find
-an account of an historical affair, which is important in
-this connection, as showing how the wail of the oppressed
-is treated by the British aristocracy:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"For three years past, trade had been getting worse and worse,
-and the price of provisions higher and higher. This disparity
-between the amount of the earnings of the working classes, and
-the price of their food, occasioned, in more cases than could well
-be imagined, disease and death. Whole families went through a
-gradual starvation. They only wanted a Dante to record their
-sufferings. And yet even his words would fall short of the awful
-truth; they could only present an outline of the tremendous facts
-of the destitution that surrounded thousands upon thousands in
-the terrible years 1839, 1840, and 1841. Even philanthropists,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>
-who had studied the subject, were forced to own themselves perplexed
-in the endeavour to ascertain the real causes of the
-misery; the whole matter was of so complicated a nature, that
-it became next to impossible to understand it thoroughly. It
-need excite no surprise, then, to learn that a bad feeling between
-working men and the upper classes became very strong in this
-season of privation. The indigence and sufferings of the operatives
-induced a suspicion in the minds of many of them, that
-their legislators, their managers, their employers, and even their
-ministers of religion, were, in general, their oppressors and
-enemies; and were in league for their prostration and enthralment.
-The most deplorable and enduring evil that arose out of
-the period of commercial depression to which I refer, was this
-feeling of alienation between the different classes of society. It
-is so impossible to describe, or even faintly to picture, the state
-of distress which prevailed in the town at that time, that I will
-not attempt it; and yet I think again that surely, in a Christian
-land, it was not known even so feebly as words could tell it, or
-the more happy and fortunate would have thronged with their
-sympathy and their aid. In many instances the sufferers wept
-first, and then they cursed. Their vindictive feelings exhibited
-themselves in rabid politics. And when I hear, as I have heard,
-of the sufferings and privations of the poor, of provision-shops
-where ha'porths of tea, sugar, butter, and even flour, were sold
-to accommodate the indigent—of parents sitting in their clothes
-by the fireside during the whole night, for seven weeks together,
-in order that their only bed and bedding might be reserved for
-the use of their large family—of others sleeping upon the cold
-hearth-stone for weeks in succession, without adequate means of
-providing themselves with food or fuel (and this in the depth of
-winter)—of others being compelled to fast for days together, uncheered
-by any hope of better fortune, living, moreover, or rather
-starving, in a crowded garret or damp cellar, and gradually sinking
-under the pressure of want and despair into a premature
-grave; and when this has been confirmed by the evidence of
-their care-worn looks, their excited feelings, and their desolate
-homes—can I wonder that many of them, in such times of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>
-misery and destitution, spoke and acted with ferocious precipitation!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"An idea was now springing up among the operatives, that
-originated with the Chartists, but which came at last to be cherished
-as a darling child by many and many a one. They could
-not believe that government knew of their misery; they rather
-chose to think it possible that men could voluntarily assume the
-office of legislators for a nation, ignorant of its real state; as who
-should make domestic rules for the pretty behaviour of children,
-without caring to know that these children had been kept for
-days without food. Besides, the starving multitudes had heard
-that the very existence of their distress had been denied in Parliament;
-and though they felt this strange and inexplicable, yet
-the idea that their misery had still to be revealed in all its
-depths, and that then some remedy would be found, soothed their
-aching hearts, and kept down their rising fury.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"So a petition was framed, and signed by thousands in the
-bright spring days of 1839, imploring Parliament to hear witnesses
-who could testify to the unparalleled destitution of the
-manufacturing districts. Nottingham, Sheffield, Glasgow, Manchester,
-and many other towns, were busy appointing delegates
-to convey this petition, who might speak, not merely of what
-they had seen and had heard, but from what they had borne and
-suffered. Life-worn, gaunt, anxious, hunger-stamped men were
-those delegates."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The delegates went in a body to London, and applied
-at the Parliament House for permission to present
-their petition upon the subject nearest their hearts—the
-question of life and death. They were haughtily
-denied a hearing. The assemblage of the "best gentlemen
-in Europe," were, perhaps, discussing the best
-means of beautifying their parks and extending their
-estates. What had these rose-pink legislators to do
-with the miseries of the base-born rabble—the soil-serfs
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
-of their chivalric Norman ancestors? The delegates
-returned in despair to their homes, to meet their
-starving relatives and friends, and tell them there was
-not a ray of hope. In France such a rejection of a
-humble petition from breadless working-men would
-have been followed by a revolution. In Great Britain
-the labourers seem to have the inborn submission of
-hereditary slaves. Though they feel the iron heel of
-the aristocracy upon their necks, and see their families
-starving around them, they delay, and still delay,
-taking that highway to freedom—manly and united
-rebellion.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The workmen employed in the factories are subjected
-to the cruel treatment of overlookers, who have
-the power of masters, and use it as tyrants. If an
-operative does not obey an order, he is not merely
-reproved, but kicked and beaten as a slave. He dare
-not resent, for if he did he would be turned forth to
-starve. Such being the system under which he works,
-the operative has the look and air of a degraded Helot.
-Most of them are unhealthy, destitute of spirit, and
-enfeebled by toil and privation. The hand-loom
-weavers, who are numerous in some districts, are the
-most miserable of the labourers, being hardly able to
-earn scant food and filthy shelter.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The hundreds of thousands of tender age employed in
-all the various branches of manufacture are in all
-cases the children of the poor. When the father goes
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>
-to the workhouse he has no longer any control over his
-children. They are at the mercy of the parish, and
-may be separated, apprenticed to all sorts of masters,
-and treated, to all intents and purposes, as slaves.
-The invention of labour-saving machinery has brought
-the services of children into great demand in the manufacturing
-towns. They may be <i>bought</i> at the workhouse
-at a cheap rate, and then they must trust to God
-alone for their future welfare. There is scarcely an
-instance in which the law ever interferes for their protection.
-The masters and overlookers are allowed to
-beat their younger operatives with impunity.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The following evidence contains instances of a treatment
-totally barbarous, and such are very frequent,
-according to the report of the commissioners:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"When she was a child, too little to put on her ain claithes,
-the overlooker used to beat her till she screamed again. Gets
-many a good beating and swearing. They are all very ill-used.
-The overseer carries a strap. Has been licked four or five
-times. The boys are often severely strapped; the girls sometimes
-get a clout. The mothers often complain of this. Has
-seen the boys have black and blue marks after strapping. Three
-weeks ago the overseer struck him in the eye with his clenched
-fist, so as to force him to be absent two days. Another overseer
-used to beat him with his fist, striking him so that his arm was
-black and blue. Has often seen the workers beat cruelly. Has
-seen the girls strapped; but the boys were beat so that they fell
-to the floor in the course of the beating with a rope with four
-tails, called a cat. Has seen the boys black and blue, crying for
-mercy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The other night a little girl came home cruelly beaten;
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
-wished to go before a magistrate, but was advised not. That
-man is always strapping the children. The boys are badly used.
-They are whipped with a strap till they cry out and shed tears;
-has seen the managers kick and strike them. Has suffered much
-from the slubbers' ill treatment. It is the practice of the slubbers
-to go out and amuse themselves for an hour or so, and then
-make up their work in the same time, which is a great fatigue to
-the piecers, keeping them 'on the run' for an hour and a half
-together, besides kicking and beating them for doing it badly,
-when they were so much tired. The slubbers are all brutes to
-the children; they get intoxicated, and then kick them about;
-they are all alike. Never complained to the master; did once to
-his mother, and she gave him a halfpenny not to mind it, to go
-back to work like a good boy. Sometimes he used to be surly,
-and would not go, and then she always had that tale about the
-halfpenny; sometimes he got the halfpenny, and sometimes not.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"He has seen the other children beaten. The little girls standing
-at the drawing-head. They would run home and fetch their
-mothers sometimes.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Hears the spinners swear very bad at their piecers, and sees
-'em lick 'em sometimes; some licks 'em with a strap, some licks
-'em with hand; some straps is as long as your arm, some is very
-thick, and some thin; don't know where they get the straps.
-There is an overlooker in the room; he very seldom comes in;
-they won't allow 'em if they knows of it. (Child volunteered
-the last observation. Asked how she knew that the overlookers
-would not allow the spinners to lick the little hands; answers,
-'Because I've heard 'em say so.') Girls cry when struck
-with straps; only one girl struck yesterday; they very seldom
-strike 'em.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There is an overlooker in the room, who is a man. The
-doffer always scolds her when she is idle, not the overlooker; the
-doffer is a girl. Sometimes sees her hit the little hands; always
-hits them with her hands. Sometimes the overlooker hits the
-little hands; always with her hand when she does. Her mother
-is a throstle-spinner, in her room. The overseer scolds the little
-hands; says he'll bag 'em; sometimes swears at 'em. Sometimes
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
-overseer beats a 'little hand;' when he does it, it is always
-with his open hand; it is not so very hard; sometimes on the
-face, sometimes on the back. He never beats her. Some on 'em
-cries when they are beat, some doesn't. He beats very seldom;
-didn't beat any yesterday, nor last week, nor week before;
-doesn't know how long it is ago since she has seen him strike a
-girl. If our little helper gets careless we may have occasion to
-correct her a bit. Some uses 'em very bad; beats 'em; but only
-with the hand; and pulls their ears. Some cry, but not often.
-Ours is a good overlooker, but has heard overlookers curse very
-bad. The women weavers themselves curse. Has never cursed
-herself. Can say so honestly from her heart.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Drawers are entirely under the control of the weavers, said a
-master; they must obey their employer; if they do not they are
-sometimes beat and sometimes discharged. <i>I chastise them occasionally
-with alight whip</i>; do not allow it by my workmen; sometimes
-they are punished with a fool's-cap, sometimes with a <i>cane</i>,
-but not severely."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"William M. Beath, of Mr. Owen's New Lanark Mills, deposed:
-'Thinks things improved under Mr. Owen's management.
-Recollects seeing children beaten very severe at times. He himself
-has been beaten very sore, so bad that his head was not in
-its useful state for several days. Recollects, in particular, one
-boy—James Barry—who was very unfond of working in the mill,
-who was always beaten to his work by his father, with his hands
-and feet; the boy was then beaten with a strap by the overseers,
-for being too late, and not being willing to come. Has seen him
-so beaten by Robert Shirley, William Watson, and Robert Sim.
-The boy, James Barry, never came properly to manhood. It was
-always conjectured that he had too many beatings. He was the
-cruellest beat boy ever I saw there. There was a boy, whose
-name he does not recollect, and while he (W. M. B.) was working as
-a weaver at Lanark, having left the mill, and his death was attributed
-by many to a kick in the groin from Peter Gall, an overseer.
-Does not recollect whether the ill usage of the children
-above alluded to took place in Mr. Owen's time, or before he
-came; but there was certainly a great improvement, in many respects,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
-under his management, particularly in cleanliness, shorter
-hours, and the establishment of schools. Has been three years
-employed in his present situation. Has two children of his own
-in the mill. Does not believe (and he has every opportunity of
-knowing) that the children of this mill have been tampered with
-by anybody, with a view to their testimony before the commissioners,
-and that they are not afraid to tell the truth. He
-himself would, on account of his children, like a little shorter
-hours and a little less wages; they would then have a better
-opportunity of attending a night-school.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Henry Dunn, aged twenty-seven, a spinner: 'Has been five
-years on this work. Went at eight years of age to Mr. Dunn's
-mill at Duntochar; that was a country situation, and much
-healthier than factories situated in town. They worked then
-from six to eight; twelve hours and a half for work, and one
-hour and a half for meals. Liked that mill as well as any he
-ever was in. Great attention was paid to the cleanliness and
-comfort of the people. The wages were lower there at that time
-than they were at Glasgow. After leaving Duntochar, he came
-into town to see Mr. Humphrey's, (now Messrs. Robert Thompson,)
-which was at that time one continued scene of oppression.
-A system of cruelty prevailed there at that time, which was confined
-almost entirely to that work. The wheels were very small,
-and young men and women of the ages of seventeen and eighteen
-were the spinners. There was a tenter to every flat, and he was
-considered as a sort of whipper-in, to force the children to extra
-exertion. Has seen wounds inflicted upon children by tenters,
-by Alexander Drysdale, among others, with a belt or stick, or
-the first thing that came uppermost. Saw a kick given by the
-above-mentioned Alexander Drysdale, which broke two ribs of a
-little boy. Helped to carry the boy down to a surgeon. The
-boy had been guilty of some very trifling offence, such as calling
-names to the next boy. But the whole was the same; all the
-tenters were alike. Never saw any ill-treatment of the children
-at this mill. Mr. Stevenson is a very fine man. The machinery
-in the spinning department is quite well boxed in—it could not be
-better; but the cards might be more protected with great advantage.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>
-It is very hot in winter, but he can't tell how hot. There
-is no thermometer.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Ellen Ferrier, aged thirteen; carries bobbins: 'Has been
-three years in this mill. Was one year before in another mill in
-this town; doesn't like neither of them very well, because she
-was always very tired from working from half-past five o'clock
-in the morning until half-past seven, with only two intervals of
-half an hour each. She sometimes falls asleep now. She
-worked formerly in the lower flat. When Charles Kennedy was
-the overseer he licked us very bad, beat our heads with his hand,
-and kicked us very bad when the ends were down. He was aye
-licking them, and my gademother (stepmother) has two or three
-times complained to Mr. Shanks, (senior,) and Mr. S. always told
-him about it, but he never minded. Does not know what he left
-the mill for. A good many folks went away from this mill just
-for Kennedy. Can read; cannot write.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mary Scott, aged fourteen: 'Has been here two years. Was
-here with Charles Kennedy. When he has seen us just speaking
-to one another, he struck us with his hands and with his feet. He
-beat us when he saw any of the ends down. Has seen him strike
-Ellen Ferrier (the last witness) very often, just with his hands;
-and has seen him strike Betty Sutherland; can't tell how often,
-but it was terrible often.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Euphemia Anderson, aged twenty: 'Has been three years at
-this mill; has been in different mills since she was seven years
-old. About six years ago she was taken ill with pains in the
-legs, and remained ill for three years. I wasn't able to stand.
-Thinks it was the standing so long that made her ill. She is now
-again quite in good health, except that she is sair-footed sometimes.
-They have seats to sit down upon. When the work is
-bad, we cannot get time to sit down. When the flax is good we
-have a good deal of time. Has never seen children beat by
-Charles Kennedy, but has heard talk of it; has often heard them
-complain of him, never of anybody else. Can read; cannot
-write. Never went to a school; never had muckle time. She
-would give up some of her wages to have shorter hours. Her
-usual dinner is broth and potatoes.'"</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The next evidence is particularly valuable, as it
-came from a person who had left the factory work;
-and having an independent business, he may be presumed
-to have spoken without fear or favour:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"William Campbell, aged thirty-seven: 'Is a grocer, carrying
-on business in Belfast. Was bred up a cotton-spinner. Went
-first as a piecer to his father, who was a spinner at Mr. Hussy's
-mill, Graham Square, Glasgow, and afterward to several mills in
-this place, among which was Mr. John McCrackan's, where he
-was, altogether, piecer and spinner between four and five years,
-(1811-1818.) There was a regulation at that time there, that
-every hand should be fined if five minutes too late at any working
-hour in the morning and after meals—the younger 5<i>d.</i>, which
-amounted to the whole wages of some of the lesser ones; the
-older hands were fined as high as 10<i>d.</i> The treatment of the
-children at that time was very cruel. Has seen Robert Martin,
-the manager, continually beating the children—with his hands
-generally, sometimes with his clenched fist. Has often seen his
-sister Jane, then about fourteen, struck by him; and he used to
-pinch her ears till the blood came, and pull her hair. The faults
-were usually very trifling. If on coming in he should find any
-girl combing her hair, that was an offence for which he would
-beat her severely, and he would do so if he heard them talking
-to one another. He never complained of the ill-usage of his
-sister, because he believed if he did, his father and two sisters,
-who were both employed in the mill, would have been immediately
-dismissed. A complaint was made by the father of a little
-girl, against Martin, for beating a child. Mr. Ferrer, the police
-magistrate, admonished him. He was a hot-headed, fiery man,
-and when he saw the least fault, or what he conceived to be a
-fault, he just struck them at once. Does not recollect any child
-getting a lasting injury from any beating here. The treatment
-of the children at the mill was the only thing which could be
-called cruelty which he had witnessed. One great hardship to
-people employed in the factories is the want of good water,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>
-which exists in most of them. At only one of the mills which he
-worked at was there water such as could be drunk brought into
-the flats, and that was Mr. Holdsworth's mill, Anderson, Glasgow.
-From what he recollects of his own and his sister's feelings,
-he considers the hours which were then and are still commonly
-occupied in actual labour—viz. twelve hours and a half
-per day—longer than the health of children can sustain, and also
-longer than will admit of any time being reserved in the evening
-for their instruction.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">These instances of steady, systematic cruelty, in the
-treatment of children, go far beyond any thing recorded
-of slave-drivers in other countries. If an American
-overseer was to whip a slave to death, an awful groan
-would express the horror of English lords and ladies.
-But in the factories of Great Britain we have helpless
-children not only kicked and beaten, but liable at any
-moment to receive a mortal wound from the billy-roller
-of an exasperated slubber. Here is more evidence,
-which we cannot think will flag in interest:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"John Gibb, eleven years old, solemnly sworn, deposes, 'that
-he has been about three years a piecer in one of the spinning-rooms;
-that the heat and confinement makes his feet sair, and
-makes him sick and have headaches, and he often has a stitch in
-his side; that he is now much paler than he used to be; that he
-receives 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week, which he gives to his mother; that he is
-very desirous of short hours, that he might go to school more than
-he can do at present; that the spinners often lick him, when he
-is in fault, with taws of leather.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Alexander Wylie, twenty-six years old, solemnly sworn, deposes,
-'that he is a spinner in one of the spinning departments;
-that most of the spinners keep taws to preserve their authority,
-but he does not; that he has seen them pretty severely whipped,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
-when they were in fault; that he has seen piecers beat by the
-overseers, even with their clenched fists; that he has seen both
-boys and girls so treated; that he has seen John Ewan beating
-his little piecers severely, even within these few weeks; that
-when he had a boy as a piecer, he beat him even more severely
-than the girls; that he never saw a thermometer in his flat, till
-to-day, when, in consequence of a bet, the heat was tried, and it
-was found to be 72°, but that they are spinning coarser cotton in
-his flat than in some of the other flats, where greater heat is
-requisite.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Bell Sinclair, thirteen years old, solemnly sworn, deposes,
-'that she has been about four years in the same flat with John
-Gibb, a preceding witness; that all the spinners in the apartment
-keep a leather strap, or taws, with which to punish the
-piecers, both boys and girls—the young ones chiefly when they
-are negligent; that she has been often punished by Francis Gibb
-and by Robert Clarke, both with taws and with their hands, and
-with his open cuff; that he has licked her on the side of the head
-and on her back with his hands, and with the strap on her back
-and arms; that she was never much the worse of the beating,
-although she has sometimes cried and shed tears when Gibb or
-Clarke was hitting her sair.' Deposes that she cannot write.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mary Ann Collins, ten years old, solemnly sworn, deposes,
-'that she has been a year in one of the spinning-rooms in which
-John Ewan is a spinner; that yesterday he gave her a licking
-with the taws; that all the spinners keep taws except Alexander
-Wylie; that he beat her once before till she grat; that she has
-sometimes a pain in her breast, and was absent yesterday on that
-account.' Deposes that she cannot write.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Daniel McGinty, twenty-two years old, solemnly sworn,
-deposes, 'that he has been nearly two years a spinner here;
-that he notices the piecers frequently complain of bad health;
-that he was a petitioner for short hours, so that the people might
-have more time for their education as well as for health; that he
-had a strap to punish the children when they were in fault, but
-he has not had one for some time, and the straps are not so common
-now as they were formerly; that he and the other spinners
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
-prefer giving the piecers a lick on the side of the head with their
-hands, than to use a strap at all; that he has seen instances of
-piecers being knocked down again and again, by a blow from the
-hand, in other mills, but not since he came to this one; that he
-has been knocked down himself in Barrowfield mill, by Lauchlin
-McWharry, the spinner to whom he was a piecer.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Isabella Stewart, twenty-two years old, solemnly sworn, deposes,
-'that she has been four years at this mill, and several
-years at other mills; that she is very hoarse, and subject to
-cough, and her feet and ankles swell in the evening; that she is
-very anxious for short hours—thirteen hours are real lang hours—but
-she has nothing else to find fault with; that Alexander
-Simpson straps the young workers, and even gives her, or any of
-the workers, if they are too late, a lick with the strap across the
-shoulders; that he has done this within a week or two; that he
-sometimes gives such a strap as to hurt her, but it is only when
-he is in a passion.' Deposes that 'she cannot write. In the
-long hours they canna get time to write nor to do nae thing.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"James Patterson, aged sixty years, solemnly sworn, deposes,
-'that he is an overseer in Messrs. James and William Brown's
-flax-spinning mill, at Dundee, and has been in their employment
-for about seven years; that he was previously at the spinning
-mill at Glamis for twelve years, and there lost his right hand
-and arm, caught by the belt of the wheels, in the preparing
-floor; that he is in the reeling flat, with the women, who are
-tired and sleepy; one of them—Margaret Porter—at present in
-bed, merely from standing so long for a fortnight past; that it
-would be God's blessing for every one to have shorter hours;
-that he has been about forty years in spinning-mills, and has
-seen the young people so lashed with a leather belt that they
-could hardly stand: that at Trollick, a mill now given up, he has
-seen them lashed, skin naked, by the manager, James Brown;
-that at Moniferth he has seen them taken out of bed, when they
-did not get up in time, and lashed with horsewhips to their work,
-carrying their clothes, while yet naked, to the work, in their arms
-with them.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"William Roe, (examined at his own request:) 'I am constable
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>
-of Radford. I was in the army. I went to work with Mr.
-Wilson in 1825. I had been with Strutts, at Belper, before
-that. The reason I left was this: I was told the overlooker was
-leathering one of my boys. I had two sons there. The overlooker
-was Crooks. I found him strapping the boy, and I struck
-him. I did not stop to ask whether the boy had done any thing.
-I had heard of his beating him before. Smith came up, and said
-I should work there no more till I had seen Mr. Wilson. My
-answer was, that neither I nor mine should ever work more for
-such a mill as that was. It was but the day before I took the
-boy to Smith, to show him that he had no time to take his victuals
-till he came out at twelve. There was no satisfaction, but
-he laughed at it. That was the reason I took the means into my
-own hands. Crooks threatened to fetch a warrant for me, but
-did not. I told him the master durst not let him. The boy had
-been doing nothing, only could not keep up his work enough to
-please them. I left the mill, and took away my sons. One was
-ten, the other was between eight and nine. They went there
-with me. The youngest was not much past eight when he went.
-I heard no more of it. I put all my reasons down in a letter to
-Mr. Wilson, but I heard no more of it. Smith was sent away
-afterward, but I don't know why. I have heard it was for different
-ill-usages. Crooks is there now. Hogg was the overlooker
-in my room. I have often seen him beat a particular boy who
-was feeding cards. One day he pulled his ear till he pulled it
-out of the socket, and it bled very much. I mean he tore the
-bottom of the ear from the head. I went to him and said, if that
-boy was mine I'd give him a better threshing than ever he had
-in his life. It was reported to Mr. S. Wilson, and he told me I
-had better mind my own business, and not meddle with the overlookers.
-I never heard that the parents complained. Mr. S. Wilson
-is dead now. Mr. W. Wilson said to me afterward, I had
-made myself very forward in meddling with the overlookers' business.
-I was to have come into the warehouse at Nottingham, but
-in consequence of my speaking my mind I lost the situation. I
-never had any complaint about my work while I was there, nor
-at Mr. Strutt's. I left Mr. Strutt's in hopes to better myself. I
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
-came as a machine smith. I went back to Mr. Strutt's, at Milford,
-after I left Wilson, for two years. The men never had more
-than twenty-five minutes for their dinner, and no extra pay for
-stopping there. I dressed the top cards, and ground them. I
-never heard that Mr. Wilson proposed to stop the breakfast hour,
-and that the hands wished to go on. I don't think such a thing
-could be. Whilst I worked there we always went in at half-past
-five, and worked till nigh half-past seven. We were never paid
-a farthing overtime. At Strutt's, if ever we worked an hour
-overtime, we were paid an hour and a half. I have seen Smith
-take the girls by the hair with one hand, and slap them in
-the face with the other; big and little, it made no difference.
-He worked there many years before he was turned away. He
-works in the mill again now, but not as an overlooker. I
-never knew of any complaint to the magistrate against Smith.
-I had 12<i>s.</i> when I was there for standing wages. It was about
-nine in the morning my boy was beat. I think it was in the
-middle of the day the boy's ear was pulled. The work was
-very severe there while it lasted. A boy generally had four
-breakers and finisher-cards to mind. Such a boy might mind
-six when he had come on to eleven or twelve; I mean finishers.
-A boy can mind from three to four breakers. Any way they had
-not time to get their victuals. I don't know what the present
-state of the mill is as to beating. Men will not complain to the
-magistrates while work is so scarce, and they are liable to be
-turned out; and if they go to the parish, why there it is, 'Why,
-you had work, why did you not stay at it?'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Robert Blincoe, a small manufacturer, once an apprentice
-to a cotton mill, and one who had seen and
-suffered much in factories, was sworn and examined by
-Dr. Hawkins, on the 18th of May, 1833. In the evidence,
-which follows, it will be noted that most of the
-sufferers mentioned were parish children, without protectors
-of any kind:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you know where you were born?' 'No; I only know
-that I came out of St. Pancras parish, London.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you know the name of your parents?' 'No. I used to
-be called, when young, Robert Saint; but when I received my
-indentures I was called Robert Blincoe; and I have gone by that
-name ever since.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What age are you?' 'Near upon forty, according to my
-indentures."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Have you no other means of knowing your age but what
-you find in your indentures?' 'No, I go by that.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you work at a cotton mill?' 'Not now. I was bound
-apprentice to a cotton mill for fourteen years, from St. Pancras
-parish; then I got my indentures. I worked five or six years
-after, at different mills, but now I have got work of my own. I
-rent power from a mill in Stockport, and have a room to myself.
-My business is a sheet wadding manufacturer.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Why did you leave off working at the cotton mills?' 'I
-got tired of it, the system is so bad; and I had saved a few
-pounds. I got deformed there; my knees began to bend in when
-I was fifteen; you see how they are, (showing them.) There are
-many, many far worse than me at Manchester.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Can you take exercise with ease?' 'A very little makes
-me sweat in walking. I have not the strength of those who are
-straight.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Have you ever been in a hospital, or under doctors, for your
-knees or legs?' 'Never in a hospital, or under doctors for that,
-but from illness from over-work I have been. When I was near
-Nottingham there were about eighty of us together, boys and
-girls, all 'prenticed out from St. Pancras parish, London, to cotton
-mills; many of us used to be ill, but the doctors said it was
-only for want of kitchen physic, and want of more rest.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Had you any accidents from machinery?' 'No, nothing to
-signify much; I have not myself, but I saw, on the 6th of March
-last, a man killed by machinery at Stockport; he was smashed,
-and he died in four or five hours; I saw him while the accident
-took place; he was joking with me just before; it was in my own
-room. I employ a poor sore cripple under me, who could not
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
-easily get work anywhere else. A young man came good-naturedly
-from another room to help my cripple, and he was accidentally
-drawn up by the strap, and was killed. I have known
-many such accidents take place in the course of my life.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Recollect a few.' 'I cannot recollect the exact number, but
-I have known several: one was at Lytton Mill, at Derbyshire;
-another was the master of a factory at Staley Bridge, of the
-name of Bailey. Many more I have known to receive injuries,
-such as the loss of a limb. There is plenty about Stockport that
-is going about now with one arm; they cannot work in the
-mills, but they go about with jackasses and such like. One girl,
-Mary Richards, was made a cripple, and remains so now, when I
-was in Lowdham mill, near Nottingham. She was lapped up by
-a shaft underneath the drawing-frame. That is now an old-fashioned
-machinery.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Have you any children?' 'Three.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you send them to factories?' 'No. I would rather
-have them transported. In the first place, they are standing
-upon one leg, lifting up one knee a greater part of the day, keeping
-the ends up from the spindle. I consider that that employment
-makes many cripples; then there is the heat and dust;
-then there are so many different forms of cruelty used upon
-them; then they are so liable to have their fingers catched, and
-to suffer other accidents from the machinery; then the hours is
-so long that I have seen them tumble down asleep among the
-straps and machinery, and so get cruelly hurt; then I would not
-have a child of mine there, because there is not good morals;
-there is such a lot of them together that they learn mischief.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What do you do with your children?' 'My eldest of thirteen
-has been to school, and can teach me. She now stays at
-home, and helps her mother in the shop. She is as tall as me,
-and is very heavy. Very different from what she would have
-been if she had worked in a factory. My two youngest go to
-school, and are both healthy. I send them every day two miles
-to school. I know from experience the ills of confinement.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What are the forms of cruelty that you spoke of just now as
-being practised upon children in factories?' 'I have seen the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
-time when two hand-vices, of a pound weight each, more or less,
-have been screwed to my ears at Lytton mill, in Derbyshire.
-Here are the scars still remaining behind my ears. Then three
-or four of us have been hung at once to a cross-beam above the
-machinery, hanging by our hands, without shirts or stockings.
-Mind, we were apprentices, without father or mother, to take care
-of us; I don't say they often do that now. Then, we used to
-stand up, in a skip, without our shirts, and be beat with straps
-or sticks; the skip was to prevent us from running away from
-the strap.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you think such things are done now in Manchester?'
-'No, not just the same things; but I think the children are still
-beaten by overlookers; not so much, however, in Manchester,
-where justice is always at hand, as in country places. Then they
-used to tie on a twenty-eight pounds weight, (one or two at once,)
-according to our size, to hang down on our backs, with no shirts
-on. I have had them myself. Then they used to tie one leg up
-to the faller, while the hands were tied behind. I have a book
-written about these things, describing my own life and sufferings.
-I will send it to you.'<a name="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do the masters know of these things, or were they done only
-by the overlookers?' 'The masters have often seen them, and
-have been assistants in them.'</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The work is so protracted that the children are exhausted,
-and many become crippled from standing too
-long in unhealthy positions:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"John Wright, steward in the silk factory of Messrs. Brinsley
-and Shatwell, examined by Mr. Tufnell.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What are the effects of the present system of labour?' 'From
-my earliest recollections, I have found the effects to be awfully
-detrimental to the well-being of the operative; I have observed,
-frequently, children carried to factories, unable to walk, and that
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
-entirely owing to excessive labour and confinement. The degradation
-of the work-people baffles all description; frequently have
-two of my sisters been obliged to be assisted to the factory and
-home again, until by and by they could go no longer, being totally
-crippled in their legs. And in the next place, I remember
-some ten or twelve years ago working in one of the largest firms
-in Macclesfield, (Messrs. Baker and Pearson,) with about twenty-five
-men, where they were scarce one-half fit for his majesty's
-service. Those that are straight in their limbs are stunted in
-their growth, much inferior to their fathers in point of strength.
-3dly. Through excessive labour and confinement there is often a
-total loss of appetite; a kind of languor steals over the whole
-frame, enters to the very core, saps the foundation of the best constitution,
-and lays our strength prostrate in the dust. In the
-fourth place, by protracted labour there is an alarming increase
-of cripples in various parts of this town, which has come under
-my own observation and knowledge.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Young sufferers gave the following evidence to the
-commissioners:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Many a time has been so fatigued that she could hardly take
-off her clothes at night, or put them on in the morning; her mother
-would be raging at her, because when she sat down she could
-not get up again through the house.' 'Looks on the long hours
-as a great bondage.' 'Thinks they are not much better than the
-Israelites in Egypt, and their life is no pleasure to them.' 'When
-a child, was so tired that she could seldom eat her supper, and
-never awoke of herself.'—'Are the hours to be shortened?' earnestly
-demanded one of these girls of the commissioner who was
-examining her, 'for they are too long.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The truth of the account given by the children of
-the fatigue they experience by the ordinary labour of
-the factory is confirmed by the testimony of their
-parents. In general, the representation made by parents
-is like the following:
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Her children come home so tired and worn out they can
-hardly eat their supper.' 'Has often seen his daughter come
-home in the evening so fatigued that she would go to bed supper-less,'
-'Has seen the young workers absolutely oppressed, and
-unable to sit down or rise up; this has happened to his own
-children.'</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">These statements are confirmed by the evidence of
-the adult operatives. The depositions of the witnesses
-of this class are to the effect, that "the younger workers
-are greatly fatigued;" that "children are often very
-severe (unwilling) in the mornings;" that "children are
-quite tired out;" that "the long hours exhaust the
-workers, especially the young ones, to such a degree
-that they can hardly walk home;" that "the young
-workers are absolutely oppressed, and so tired as to be
-unable to sit down or rise up;" that "younger workers
-are so tired they often cannot raise their hands to their
-head;" that "all the children are very keen for short
-hours, thinking them now such bondage that they might
-as well be in a prison;" that "the children, when engaged
-in their regular work, are often exhausted beyond what
-can be expressed;" that "the sufferings of the children
-absolutely require that the hours should be shortened."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The depositions of the overlookers are to the same
-effect, namely, that "though the children may not complain,
-yet that they seem tired and sleepy, and happy
-to get out of doors to play themselves. That, "the
-work over-tires the workers in general." "Often sees
-the children very tired and stiff-like." "Is entirely of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
-opinion, after real experience, that the hours of labour
-are far too long for the children, for their health and
-education; has from twenty-two to twenty-four boys
-under his charge, from nine to about fourteen years old,
-and they are generally much tired at night, always
-anxious, asking if it be near the mill-stopping." "Never
-knew a single worker among the children that did not
-complain of the long hours, which prevent them from
-getting education, and from getting health in the open
-air."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The managers in like manner state, that "the labour
-exhausts the children;" that "the workers are tired in
-the evening;" that "children inquire anxiously for the
-hour of stopping." And admissions to the same effect,
-on the part of managers and proprietors, will be found
-in every part of the Scotch depositions.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the north-eastern district the evidence is equally
-complete that the fatigue of the young workers is great.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'I have known the children,' says one witness, 'to hide themselves
-in the store among the wool, so that they should not go
-home when the work was over, when we have worked till ten or
-eleven. I have seen six or eight fetched out of the store and beat
-home; beat out of the mill however; I do not know why they
-should hide themselves, unless it was that they were too tired to
-go home.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Many a one I have had to rouse in the last hour, when the
-work is very slack, from fatigue.' 'The children were very much
-jaded, especially when we worked late at night.' 'The children
-bore the long hours very ill indeed.' 'Exhausted in body and
-depressed in mind by the length of the hours and the height of
-the temperature.' 'I found, when I was an overlooker, that, after
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
-the children from eight to twelve years had worked eight, nine,
-or ten hours, they were nearly ready to faint; some were asleep;
-some were only kept to work by being spoken to, or by a little
-chastisement, to make them jump up. I was sometimes obliged
-to chastise them when they were almost fainting, and it hurt my
-feelings; then they would spring up and work pretty well for
-another hour; but the last two or three hours were my hardest
-work, for they then got so exhausted,' 'I have never seen fathers
-carrying their children backward nor forward to the factories;
-but I have seen children, apparently under nine, and from nine
-to twelve years of age, going to the factories at five in the morning
-almost asleep in the streets.'"</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Ellen Cook, card-filler: 'I was fifteen last winter. I worked
-on then sometimes day and night;—may be twice a week; I used
-to earn 4<i>s.</i> a week; I used to go home to dinner; I was a feeder
-then; I am a feeder still. We used to come at half-past eight at
-night, and work all night till the rest of the girls came in the
-morning; they would come at seven, I think. Sometimes we
-worked on till half-past eight the next night, after we had been
-working all the night before. We worked on meal-hours, except
-at dinner. I have done that sometimes three nights a week, and
-sometimes four nights. It was just as the overlooker chose. John
-Singleton; he is overlooker now. Sometimes the slubbers would
-work on all night too; not always. The pieceners would have to
-stay all night then too. It was not often though that the slubbers
-worked all night. We worked by ourselves. It was when one of the
-boilers was spoiled; that was the reason we had to work all night.
-The engine would not carry all the machines. I was paid for the
-over-hours when we worked day and night; not for meal-hours.
-We worked meal-hours, but were not paid for them. George Lee
-is the slubber in this room. He has worked all night; not often,
-I think; not above twice all the time we worked so; sometimes
-he would not work at all. The pieceners would work too when
-he did. They used to go to sleep, poor things! when they had
-over-hours in the night. I think they were ready enough to sleep
-sometimes, when they only worked in the daytime. I never was a
-piecener; sometimes I go to help them when there are a good
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
-many cardings. We have to get there by half-past five, in the
-morning, now. The engine begins then. We don't go home to
-breakfast. Sometimes we have a quarter of an hour; sometimes
-twenty minutes; sometimes none. Them in the top-room have a
-full half hour. We can't take half an hour if we like it; we should
-get jawed; we should have such a noise, we should not hear the
-last of it. The pieceners in this room (there were four) have the
-same time as we do. In some of the rooms they forfeit them if
-they are five minutes too late; they don't in this room. The
-slubber often beats the pieceners. He has a strap, and wets it,
-and gives them a strap over the hands, poor things! They cry
-out ever so loud sometimes; I don't know how old they are.'"</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"James Simpson, aged twenty-four, solemnly sworn, deposes:
-'That he has been about fifteen years in spinning mills; that he
-has been nearly a year as an overseer in Mr. Kinmond's mill here,
-and was dismissed on the 2d of May, for supporting, at a meeting
-of the operatives, the Ten Hours Bill; that he was one of the persons
-to receive subscriptions, in money, to forward the business,
-and was dismissed, not on a regular pay-day, but on a Thursday
-evening, by James Malcolm, manager, who told him that he was
-dismissed for being a robber to his master in supporting the Ten
-Hours Bill; that by the regulations of the mill he was entitled to
-a week's notice, and that a week's wages were due to him at the
-time, but neither sum has been paid; that he was two or three times
-desired by the overseer to strike the boys if he saw them at any
-time sitting, and has accordingly struck them with a strap, but never
-so severely as to hurt them; that he is not yet employed.' And
-the preceding deposition having been read over to him, he was
-cautioned to be perfectly sure that it was true in all particulars,
-as it would be communicated to the overseer named by him, and
-might still be altered if, in any particular, he wished the change
-of a word; but he repeated his assertion, on oath, that it was.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Ann Kennedy, sixteen years old, solemnly sworn, deposes:
-'That she has been nearly a year a piecer to James McNish, a
-preceding witness; that she has had swelled feet for about a year,
-but she thinks them rather better; that she has a great deal of
-pain, both in her feet and legs, so that she was afraid she would
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
-not be able to go on with the work; that she thought it was owing
-to the heat and the long standing on her feet; that it is a very
-warm room she is in; that she sometimes looks at the thermometer
-and sees it at 82°, or 84, or 86°; that all the people in the
-room are very pale, and a good deal of them complaining.' Deposes,
-that she cannot write.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Joseph Hurtley, aged forty-four: 'Is an overlooker of the
-flax-dressing department. Has been there since the commencement.
-Thinks, from what he observes, that the hours are too
-long for children. Is led to think so from seeing the children
-much exhausted toward the conclusion of the work. When he
-came here first, and the children were all new to the work, he
-found that by six o'clock they began to be drowsy and sleepy.
-He took different devices to keep them awake, such as giving
-them snuff, &c.; but this drowsiness partly wore off in time, from
-habit, but he still observes the same with all the boys, (they are
-all boys in his department,) and it continues with them for some
-time. Does not know whether the children go to school in the
-evening, but he thinks, from their appearance, that they would
-be able to receive very little benefit from tuition.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The occupation of draw-boys and girls to harness hand-loom
-weavers, in their own shops, is by far the lowest and least sought
-after of any connected with the manufacture of cotton. They are
-poor, neglected, ragged, dirty children. They seldom are taught
-any thing, and they work as long as the weaver, that is, as long
-as they can see, standing on the same spot, always barefooted, on
-an earthen, cold, damp floor, in a close, damp cellar, for thirteen
-or fourteen hours a day.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The power-loom dressers have all been hand-loom weavers,
-but now prevent any more of their former companions from being
-employed in their present business.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'They earn 2<i>s.</i> per week, and eat porridge, if their parents
-can afford it; if not, potatoes and salt. They are, almost always,
-between nine and thirteen years of age, and look healthy, though
-some have been two or three years at the business; while the
-weaver, for whom they draw, is looking pale, squalid, and underfed.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'There are some hundreds of children thus employed in the
-immediate neighbourhood of Glasgow.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In Leicester, Mr. Drinkwater, of the Factory Commission,
-found that great cruelty was practised upon
-the children employed in some of the factories, by the
-workmen called "slubbers," for whom the young creatures
-act as piecers. Thomas Hough, a trimmer and
-dyer, who had worked at Robinson's factory, deposed—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'The children were beaten at the factory; I complained, and
-they were turned away. If I could have found the man at the
-time there would have something happened, I am sure. I knew
-the man; it was the slubber with whom they worked. His name
-was Smith. Robinson had the factory then. I had my second
-son in to Mr. Robinson, and stripped him, and showed him how
-cruelly he had been beaten. There were nineteen bruises on his
-back and posteriors. It was not with the billy-roller. It was
-with the strap. He has often been struck with the billy-roller
-at other times, over the head. Robinson rebuked the man, and
-said he should not beat them any more. The children were beat
-several times after that; and on account of my making frequent
-complaints they turned the children away. They worked with
-Smith till they left. Smith was of a nasty disposition, rather.
-I would say of the slubbers generally, that they are a morose, ill-tempered
-set. Their pay depends on the children's work. The
-slubbers are often off drinking, and then they must work harder
-to get the cardings up. I have seen that often. That is in the
-lamb's-wool trade. Mr. Gamble is one of the most humane men
-that ever lived, by all that I hear, and he will not allow the slubbers
-to touch the children, on any pretence; if they will not
-work, he turns them away. There gets what they call flies on
-the cardings, that is, when the cardings are not properly pieced;
-and it is a general rule to strike the children when that happens
-too often. They allow so many ratched cardings, as they call
-them, in a certain time; and if there are more, they call the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>
-children round to the billy-gate and strap them. I have seen the
-straps which some of them use; they are as big as the strap on
-my son's lathe yonder, about an inch broad, (looking at it.) Oh,
-it is bigger than this, (it measured 7-8ths.) It is about an inch.
-I have seen the children lie down on the floor, and the slubber
-strike on them as they lay. It depends entirely on the temper of
-the man; sometimes they will only swear at them, sometimes
-they will beat them. They will be severe with them at one time,
-and very familiar at another, and run on with all sorts of debauched
-language, and take indecent liberties with the feeders
-and other big girls, before the children. That is the reason why
-they call the factories hell-holes. There are some a good deal different.
-The overlookers do not take much notice generally. They
-pick out bullies, generally, for overlookers. It is very necessary
-to have men of a determined temper to keep the hands in order.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I have known my children get strapped two or three times
-between a meal. At all times of the day. Sometimes they
-would escape for a day or two together, just as it might happen.
-Then they get strapped for being too late. They make the children
-sum up, that is, pick up the waste, and clean up the billies
-during the meal-time, so that the children don't get their time.
-The cruelty complained of in the factories is chiefly from the
-slubbers. There is nobody so closely connected with the children
-as the slubbers. There is no other part of the machinery
-with which I am acquainted where the pay of the man depends
-on the work of the children so much.'"</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Joseph Badder, a slubber, deposed: 'Slubbing and spinning
-is very heavy. Those machines are thrown aside now. The
-spinners did not like them, nor the masters neither. They did
-not turn off such stuff as they expected. I always found it more
-difficult to keep my piecers awake the last hours of a winter's
-evening. I have told the master, and I have been told by him
-that I did not half hide them. This was when they were working
-from six to eight. I have known the children hide themselves
-in the store among the wool, so that they should not go home
-when the work was over, when we have worked till ten or eleven.
-I have seen six or eight fetched out of the store and beat home;
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
-beat out of the mill. However, I do not know why they should
-hide themselves, unless it was they were too tired to go home.
-My piecers had two hours for meals. Other parts of the work I
-have known them work children, from seven to twelve in age,
-from six in the morning till ten or eleven at night, and give no
-time for meals; eat their victuals as they worked; the engines
-running all the time. The engine never stopped at meal-times;
-it was just as the spinner chose whether the children worked on
-or not. They made more work if they went on. I never would
-allow any one to touch my piecers. The foreman would come at
-times, and has strapped them, and I told him I would serve him
-the same if he touched them. I have seen the man who worked
-the other billy beat his piecers. I have seen children knocked
-down by the billy-rollers. It is a weapon that a man will easily
-take up in a passion. I do not know any instance of a man being
-prosecuted for it. The parents are unwilling, for fear the children
-should lose their work. I know Thorpe has been up before the
-magistrate half a dozen times or more, on the complaint of the
-parents. He has been before the bench, at the Exchange, as we
-call it, and I have seen him when he came back, when the magistrates
-have reprimanded Thorpe, and told the parents they had
-better take the children away. After that he has been sometimes
-half drunk, perhaps, and in a passion, and would strap them for
-the least thing, more than he did before. I remember once that
-he was fined; it was about two years and a half ago; it was for
-beating a little girl; he was fined 10<i>s.</i> I have seen him strap
-the women when they took the part of the children. The master
-complained he was not strict enough. I know from Thorpe that
-the master always paid his expenses when he was before the
-magistrate. I believe they generally do in all the factories. I
-have frequently had complaints against myself by the parents of
-the children, for beating them. I used to beat them. I am sure
-no man can do without it who works long hours; I am sure he
-cannot. I told them I was very sorry after I had done it, but I
-was forced to do it. The master expected me to do my work, and
-I could not do mine unless they did theirs. One lad used to say
-to me frequently, (he was a jocular kind of lad,) that he liked a
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>
-good beating at times, it helped him to do his work. I used to
-joke with them to keep up their spirits. <i>I have seen them fall
-asleep, and they have been performing their work with their hands
-while they were asleep, after the billy had stopped, when their work
-was done. I have stopped and looked at them for two minutes,
-going through the motions of piecening, fast asleep, when there was
-really no work to do, and they were really doing nothing.</i> I believe,
-when we have been working long hours, that they have never
-been washed, but on a Saturday night, for weeks together.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Thomas Clarke, (examined at request of Joseph Badder:)
-'I am aged eleven, I work at Cooper's factory; the rope-walk. I
-spin there. I earn 4<i>s.</i> a week there. I have been there about
-one year and a half. I was in Ross's factory before that. I was
-piecener there. I piecened for Joseph Badder one while, then for
-George Castle. I piecened for Badder when he left. Badder told
-me I was wanted here. We have not been talking about it. I
-remember that Jesse came to the machine, and Badder would not
-let him go nigh, and so they got a scuffling about it. I was very
-nigh nine years of age when I first went to piecen. I got 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>
-a week, at first. I think I was a good hand at it. When I had
-been there half a year I got 3<i>s.</i> Badder used to strap me some
-odd times. Some odd times he'd catch me over the head, but it
-was mostly on the back. He made me sing out. He has taken
-the billy-roller to me sometimes; about four times, I think. He
-used to take us over the shoulders with that; he would have done
-us an injury if he had struck us over the head. I never saw any
-one struck over the head with a billy-roller. He would strap us
-about twelve times at once. He used to strap us sometimes over
-the head. He used to strap us for letting his cards run through.
-I believe it was my fault. If we had had cardings to go on with
-we would have kept it from running through. It was nobody's
-fault that there were no cardings, only the slubber's fault that
-worked so hard. I have had, maybe, six stacks of cardings put
-up while he was out. When he came in, he would work harder
-to work down the stacks. Sometimes he would stop the card.
-He used to strap us most when he was working hardest. He did
-not strap us more at night than he did in the daytime. He would
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
-sometimes stay half a day. When he was away, as soon as we
-had six stacks of cardings up, the rule was to stop, and then we'd
-pick up the waste about the room, and take a play sometimes, but
-very seldom. Mr. Ross paid me. Badder never paid me when
-he was out. I never got any money from Badder. I used sometimes
-to fall asleep. The boy next to me used often to fall asleep:
-John Breedon; he got many a stroke. That was when we were
-working for Castle; that would be about six o'clock. He was
-about the size of me; he was older than I was. They always
-strapped us if we fell asleep. Badder was a better master than
-Castle. Castle used to get a rope, about as thick as my thumb,
-and double it, and put knots in it, and lick us with that. That
-was a good bit worse than the strap. I was to no regular master
-afterward; I used to do bits about the room. I ran away
-because Thorpe used to come and strap me. He did not know
-what he was strapping me for; it was just as he was in his
-humours. I never saw such a man; he would strap any one
-as did not please him. I only worked for him a week or two.
-I didn't like it, and I ran away. He would strap me if even there
-was a bit of waste lying about the room. I have had marks on
-my back from Castle's strapping me.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In Nottingham, also, there is much cruelty shown in
-the treatment of the children, as will appear from the
-following evidence taken by Mr. Power:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Williamson, the father: 'My two sons, one ten, the other
-thirteen, work at Milnes's factory, at Lenton. They go at half-past
-five in the morning; don't stop at breakfast or tea-time.
-They stop at dinner half an hour. Come home at a quarter before
-ten. They used to work till ten, sometimes eleven, sometimes
-twelve. They earn between them 6<i>s.</i> 2<i>d.</i> per week. One of them,
-the eldest, worked at Wilson's for 2 years at 2<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i> a week. He
-left because the overlooker beat him and loosened a tooth for him.
-I complained, and they turned him away for it. They have been
-gone to work sixteen hours now; they will be very tired when
-they come home at half-past nine. I have a deal of trouble to get
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
-'em up in the morning. I have been obliged to beat 'em with a
-strap in their shirts, and to pinch 'em, in order to get them well
-awake. It made me cry to be obliged to do it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you make them cry?' 'Yes, sometimes. They will be
-home soon, very tired, and you will see them.' I preferred walking
-toward the factory to meet them. I saw the youngest only,
-and asked him a few questions. He said, 'I'm sure I shan't stop
-to talk to you; I want to go home and get to bed; I must be up
-at half-past five again to-morrow morning.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"G— — and A— —, examined. The boy: 'I am
-going fourteen: my sister is eleven. I have worked in Milnes's
-factory two years. She goes there also. We are both in the
-clearing-room. I think we work too long hours; I've been badly
-with it. We go at half-past five, give over at half-past nine. I'm
-now just come home. We sometimes stay till twelve. We are
-obliged to work over-hours. I have 4<i>s.</i> a week; that is, for staying
-from six till seven. They pay for over-hours besides. I asked
-to come away one night, lately, at eight o'clock, being ill; I was
-told if I went I must not come again. I am not well now. I
-can seldom eat any breakfast; my appetite is very bad. I have
-had a bad cold for a week.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Father: 'I believe him to be ill from being over-worked. My
-little girl came home the other day, cruelly beaten. I took her to
-Mr. Milnes; did not see him, but showed Mrs. Milnes the marks.
-I thought of taking it before a magistrate, but was advised to let
-it drop. They might have turned both my children away. That
-man's name is Blagg; he is always strapping the children. I
-shan't let the boy go to them much longer; I shall try to apprentice
-him; it's killing him by inches; he falls asleep over his
-food at night. I saw an account of such things in the newspaper,
-and thought how true it was of my own children.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mother: 'I have worked in the same mills myself. The same
-man was there then. I have seen him behave shocking to the
-children. He would take 'em by the hair of the head and drag
-'em about the room. He has been there twelve years. There's
-a many young ones in that hot room. There's six of them badly
-now, with bad eyes and sick-headache. This boy of ours has
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
-always been delicate from a child. His appetite is very bad now;
-he does not eat his breakfast sometimes for two or three days
-together. The little girl bears it well; she is healthy. I should
-prefer their coming home at seven, without additional wages.
-The practice of working over-hours has been constantly pursued
-at Milnes's factory.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Fortesque, at his own house, nine
-<span class="sc">P.M.</span> 'I am an overlooker
-in this factory. We have about one hundred hands. Forty
-quite children; most of the remainder are young women. Our
-regular day is from six to seven. It should be an hour for dinner,
-but it is only half an hour. I don't know how it comes so. We
-have had some bad men in authority who made themselves big;
-it is partly the master. No time is allowed for tea or breakfast;
-there used to be a quarter of an hour for each; it's altered now.
-We call it twelve hours a day. Over-time is paid for extra. When
-we are busy we work over-hours. Our present time is till half-past
-nine. It has been so all winter, and since to this time. We
-have some very young ones; as young as eight. I don't like to
-take them younger; they're not able to do our work. We have
-three doubling-rooms, a clearing-room, and a gassing-room. We
-have about forty in the clearing-room. We occasionally find it
-necessary to make a difference as to the time of keeping some of
-the children. We have done so several times. Master has said:
-Pick out the youngest, and let them go, and get some of the
-young women to take their places. I am not the overlooker to the
-clearing-room. Blagg is overlooker there; there has been many
-complaints against him. He's forced to be roughish in order to
-keep his place. If he did not keep the work going on properly
-there would be some one to take his place who would. There
-are some children so obstinate and bad they must be punished.
-A strap is used. Beating is necessary, on account of their being
-idle. We find it out often in this way: we give them the same
-number of bobbins each; when the number they ought to finish
-falls off, then they're corrected. They would try the patience of
-any man. It is not from being tired, I think. It happens as
-often in the middle of the day as at other times. I don't like the
-beating myself; I would rather there were little deductions in
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
-their earnings for these offences. I am sure the children would
-not like to have any of their earnings stopped; I am sure they
-would mind it. From what I have heard parents say about their
-children when at work, I am sure they (the parents) would
-prefer this mode of correction; and, I think, it would have an effect
-on the children. At the factory of Messrs. Mills and Elliot they
-go on working all the night as well as day. I believe them to
-have done so for the last year and a half; they have left it off
-about a week. (<i>A respectable female here entered with a petition
-against negro-slavery; after she was gone, Mr. Fortesque continued.</i>)
-I think home slavery as bad as it can be abroad; worst of anywhere
-in the factories. The hours we work are much too long
-for young people. Twelve hours' work is enough for young or
-old, confined in a close place. The work is light, but it's standing
-so long that tires them. I have been here about two years;
-I have seen bad effects produced on people's health by it, but not
-to any great degree. It must be much worse at Mills and Elliot's;
-working night as well as day, the rooms are never clear of people's
-breaths. We set our windows open when we turn the hands out.
-The gas, too, which they use at night, makes it worse.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The italicised parenthesis is, <i>bonâ fide</i>, a part of the
-Report, as may be proved by consulting the parliamentary
-document. The <i>respectable female</i> was probably
-the original of Dickens's Mrs. Jellaby.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Read these references to a case of barbarity in a
-factory at Wigan:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="indent1_5"><i>Extract from a speech made by Mr. Grant, a Manchester spinner,
-at a meeting held at Chorlton-upon-Medlock; reported in the
-Manchester Courier of 20th April, 1833.</i></p></div>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Much was said of the black slaves and their chains. No
-doubt they were entitled to freedom, but were there no slaves
-except those of sable hue? Has slavery no sort of existence
-among children of the factories? Yes, and chains were sometimes
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
-introduced, though those chains might not be forged of
-iron. He would name an instance of this kind of slavery, which
-took place at Wigan. A child, not ten years of age, having been
-late at the factory one morning, had, as a punishment, a rope
-put round its neck, to which a weight of twenty pounds was
-attached; and, thus burdened like a galley-slave, it was compelled
-to labour for a length of time in the midst of an impure
-atmosphere and a heated room. [Loud cries of, Shame!] The
-truth of this has been denied by Mr. Richard Potter, the member
-for Wigan; but he (the speaker) reiterated its correctness. He
-has seen the child; and its mother's eyes were filled with tears
-while she told him this shocking tale of infant suffering."</p></div>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="indent1_5"><i>Extract from a speech made by Mr. Oastler, on the occasion of a
-meeting at the City of London Tavern; reported in the Times,
-of the 25th of February, 1833.</i></p></div>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In a mill at Wigan, the children, for any slight neglect, were
-loaded with weights of twenty pounds, passed over their shoulders
-and hanging behind their backs. Then there was a murderous
-instrument called a billy-roller, about eight feet long and
-one inch and a half in diameter, with which many children had
-been knocked down, and in some instances murdered by it."</p></div>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="indent1_5"><i>Extract from a speech made by Mr. Oastler, at a meeting held in
-the theatre at Bolton, and reported in the Bolton Chronicle, of the
-30th of March, 1833.</i></p></div>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In one factory they have a door which covers a quantity of
-cold water, in which they plunge the sleepy victim to awake it.
-In Wigan they tie a great weight to their backs. I knew the
-Russians made the Poles carry iron weights in their exile to Siberia,
-but it was reserved for Christian England thus to use an
-infant."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Rowland Detroiser deposed before the Central Board
-of Commissioners, concerning the treatment of children
-in the cotton factories:
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'The children employed in a cotton-factory labour, are not all
-under the control or employed by the proprietor. A very considerable
-number is employed and paid by the spinners and
-stretchers, when there are stretchers. These are what are called
-piecers and scavengers; the youngest children being employed in
-the latter capacity, and as they grow up, for a time in the scavengers
-and piecers. In coarse mills, that is, mills in which low
-numbers of yarn are spun, the wages of the scavengers is commonly
-from 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> to 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, according to size and ability. The
-men do not practise the system of fining, generally speaking, and
-especially toward these children. The sum which they earn is
-so small it would be considered by many a shame to make it less.
-They do not, however, scruple to give them a good bobbying, as
-it is called; that is, beating them with a rope thickened at one
-end, or, in some few brutal instances, with the combined weapons
-of fist and foot.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'But this severity, you say, is practised toward the children
-who are employed by the men, and not employed by the masters?'
-'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And the men inflict the punishment?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Not the overlookers?' 'Not in these instances.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'But how do you reconcile your statement with the fact that
-the men have been the principal complainers of the cruelties practised
-toward the children, and also the parties who are most
-active in endeavouring to obtain for the children legislative protection?'
-'My statement is only fact. I do not profess to reconcile
-the apparent inconsistency. The men are in some measure
-forced by circumstances into the practice of that severity of
-which I have spoken.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Will you explain these circumstances?' 'The great object in
-a cotton mill is to turn as much work off as possible, in order to
-compensate by quantity for the smallness of the profit. To that
-end every thing is made subservient. There are two classes of
-superintendents in those establishments. The first class are
-what are called managers, from their great power and authority.
-Their especial business is to watch over the whole concern, and
-constantly to attend to the quantity and quality of the yarn, &c.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
-turned off. To these individuals the second class, called overlookers,
-are immediately responsible for whatever is amiss. The
-business of overlookers is to attend to particular rooms and classes
-of hands, for the individual conduct of which they are held responsible.
-These individuals, in some mills, are paid in proportion
-to the quantity of work turned off; in all, they are made responsible
-for that quantity, as well as for the quality; and as the
-speed of each particular machine is known, nothing is more easy
-than to calculate the quantity which it ought to produce. This
-quantity is the maximum; the minimum allowed is the least possible
-deficiency, certain contingencies being taken into account.
-In those mills in which the overlookers are paid in proportion to
-the quantity of work turned off, interest secures the closest
-attention to the conduct of every individual under them; and in
-other mills, fear of losing their places operates to produce the
-same effect. It is one continual system of driving; and, in order
-to turn off as great a quantity of work as is possible, the manager
-drives the overlookers, and the overlookers drive the men.
-Every spinner knows that he must turn off the average quantity
-of work which his wheels are capable of producing, or lose his
-place if deficiencies are often repeated; and consequently, the
-piecers and scavengers are drilled, in their turns, to the severest
-attention. On their constant attention, as well as his own, depends
-the quantity of work done. So that it is not an exaggeration
-to say, that their powers of labour are subjected to the
-severity of an undeviating exaction. A working man is estimated
-in these establishments in proportion to his physical capacity
-rather than his moral character, and therefore it is not
-difficult to infer what must be the consequences. It begets a system
-of debasing tyranny in almost every department, the most
-demoralizing in its effects. Kind words are godsends in many
-cotton factories, and oaths and blows the usual order of the day.
-The carder must produce the required quantity of drawing and
-roving; the spinner, the required quantity of yarn; a system of
-overbearing tyranny is adopted toward everybody under them;
-they are cursed into the required degree of attention, and blows
-are resorted to with the children when oaths fail, and sometimes
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
-even before an oath has been tried. In short, the men must do
-work enough, or lose their places. It is a question between
-losing their places and the exercise of severity of discipline in
-all cases; between starvation and positive cruelty, in many.
-There are exceptions, but my conviction is that they are comparatively
-few indeed. To me the whole system has always
-appeared one of tyranny."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Abraham Whitehead, clothier, of Scholes, near
-Holmfirth, examined by Parliamentary Committee:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'What has been the treatment which you have observed that
-these children have received at the mills, to keep them attentive
-for so many hours, at so early ages?' 'They are generally
-cruelly treated; so cruelly treated that they dare not, hardly for
-their lives, be too late at their work in the morning. When I
-have been at the mills in the winter season, when the children
-are at work in the evening, the very first thing they inquire is,
-"What o'clock is it?" If we should answer, "Seven," they say,
-"Only seven! it is a great while to ten, but we must not give up
-till ten o'clock, or past." They look so anxious to know what
-o'clock it is that I am convinced the children are fatigued, and
-think that, even at seven, they have worked too long. My heart
-has been ready to bleed for them when I have seen them so
-fatigued, for they appear in such a state of apathy and insensibility
-as really not to know whether they are doing their work
-or not. They usually throw a bunch of ten or twelve cordings
-across the hand, and take one off at a time; but I have seen the
-bunch entirely finished, and they have attempted to take off another,
-when they have not had a cording at all; they have been
-so fatigued as not to know whether they were at work or not.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do they frequently fall into errors and mistakes in piecing
-when thus fatigued?' 'Yes; the errors they make when thus
-fatigued are, that instead of placing the cording in this way,
-(describing it,) they are apt to place them obliquely, and that
-causes a flying, which makes bad yarn; and when the billy-spinner
-sees that, he takes his strap, or the billy-roller, and says,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
-"Damn thee, close it; little devil, close it;" and they strike the
-child with the strap or billy roller.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You have noticed this in the after part of the day more particularly?'
-'It is a very difficult thing to go into a mill in the
-latter part of the day, particularly in winter, and not to hear
-some of the children crying for being beaten for this very fault.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How are they beaten?' 'That depends on the humanity of
-the slubber or billy-spinner. Some have been beaten so violently
-that they have lost their lives in consequence of being so beaten;
-and even a young girl has had the end of a billy-roller jammed
-through her cheek.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What is the billy-roller?' 'A heavy rod of from two to
-three yards long, and of two inches in diameter, and with an
-iron pivot at each end. It runs on the top of the cording, over
-the feeding-cloth. I have seen them take the billy-roller and rap
-them on the head, making their heads crack so that you might
-have heard the blow at a distance of six or eight yards, in spite
-of the din and rolling of the machinery. Many have been
-knocked down by the instrument. I knew a boy very well, of
-the name of Senior, with whom I went to school; he was struck
-with a billy-roller on the elbow; it occasioned a swelling; he was
-not able to work more than three or four weeks after the blow;
-and he died in consequence. There was a woman in Holmfirth
-who was beaten very much: I am not quite certain whether on
-the head; and she lost her life in consequence of being beaten
-with a billy-roller. That which was produced (showing one) is
-not the largest size; there are some a foot longer than that; it
-is the most common instrument with which these poor little
-pieceners are beaten, more commonly than with either stick or
-strap.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How is it detached from the machinery?' 'Supposing this
-to be the billy-frame, (describing it,) at each end there is a socket
-open; the cording runs underneath here, just in this way, and
-when the billy-spinner is angry, and sees the little piecener has
-done wrong, he takes off this and says, "Damn thee, close it."'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You have seen the poor children in this situation?' 'I have
-seen them frequently struck with the billy-roller; I have seen
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>
-one so struck as to occasion its death; but I once saw a piecener
-struck in the face by a billy-spinner with his hand, until its nose
-bled very much; and when I said, "Oh dear, I would not suffer
-a child of mine to be treated thus," the man has said "How the
-devil do you know but what he deserved it? What have you to
-do with it?"'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">But the most complete evidence in regard to the
-slavery in the factories was that given to the Parliamentary
-Committee, by a man named Peter Smart,
-whose experience and observation as a slave and a
-slave-driver in the factories of Scotland, enabled him
-to substantiate all the charges made against the system.
-His history possesses the deepest interest, and
-should be attentively perused:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Where do you reside?' 'At Dundee.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What age are you?' 'Twenty-seven.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What is your business?' 'An overseer of a flax-mill.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Have you worked in a mill from your youth?' 'Yes, since
-I was five years of age.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Had you a father and mother in the country at that time?'
-'My mother stopped in Perth, about eleven miles from the mill,
-and my father was in the army.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were you hired for any length of time when you went?'
-'Yes, my mother got 15<i>s.</i> for six years, I having my meat and
-clothes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'At whose mill?' 'Mr. Andrew Smith's, at Gateside.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Is that in Fifeshire?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What were your hours of labour, do you recollect, in that
-mill?' 'In the summer season we were very scarce of water.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'But when you had sufficient water, how long did you work?'
-'We began at four o'clock in the morning, and worked till ten or
-eleven at night; as long as we could stand upon our feet.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'You hardly could keep up for that length of time?' 'No,
-we often fell asleep.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How were you kept to your work for that length of time;
-were you chastised?' 'Yes, very often, and very severely.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How long was this ago?' 'It is between twenty-one and
-twenty-two years since I first went.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were you kept in the premises constantly?' 'Constantly.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Locked up?' 'Yes, locked up.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Night and day?' 'Night and day; I never went home
-while I was at the mill.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was it possible to keep up your activity for such a length
-of time as that?' 'No, it was impossible to do it; we often fell
-asleep.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were not accidents then frequently occurring at that mill
-from over-fatigue?' 'Yes, I got my hands injured there by the
-machinery.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Have you lost any of your fingers?' 'Yes, I have lost one,
-and the other hand is very much injured.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'At what time of the night was that when your hands became
-thus injured?' 'Twilight, between seven and eight o'clock.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you attribute that accident to over-fatigue and drowsiness?'
-'Yes, and to a want of knowledge of the machinery. I
-was only five years old when I went to the mills, and I did not
-know the use of the different parts of the machinery.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you ever know any other accident happen in that mill?'
-'Yes, there was a girl that fell off her stool when she was
-piecing; she fell down and was killed on the spot.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was that considered by the hands in the mill to have been
-occasioned by drowsiness and excessive fatigue?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How old were you at the time this took place?' 'I don't
-know, for I have been so long in the mills that I have got no
-education, and I have forgot the like of those things.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Have you any recollection of what the opinions of the people
-in the mill were at that time as to the cause of the accident?'
-'I heard the rest of them talking about it, and they said that it
-was so. We had long stools that we sat upon then, old-fashioned;
-we have no such things as those now.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Is that the only accident that you have known to happen in
-that mill?' 'There was a boy, shortly before I got my fingers
-hurt, that had his fingers hurt in the same way that I had.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was there any other killed?' 'There was one killed, but I
-could not say how it was; but she was killed in the machinery.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Has any accident happened in that mill during the last
-twelve years?' 'I could not say; it is twelve years since I
-left it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Is that mill going on still?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Speaking of the hours that you had to labour there, will you
-state to this committee the effect it had upon you?' 'It had a very
-great effect upon me; I was bad in my health.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were you frequently much beaten, in order to keep you up
-to your labour?' 'Yes; very often beat till I was bloody at the
-mouth and at the nose, by the overseer and master too.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How did they beat you?' 'With their hands and with a
-leather thong.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were the children, generally speaking, treated as you
-have stated you were?' 'Yes; generally; there are generally
-fifteen boys in one, and a number of girls in the other; they were
-kept separately.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You say you were locked up night and day?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do the children ever attempt to run away?' 'Very often.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were they pursued and brought back again?' 'Yes, the
-overseer pursued them, and brought them back.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you ever attempt to run away?' 'Yes, I ran away twice.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And you were brought back?' 'Yes; and I was sent up to
-the master's loft, and thrashed with a whip for running away.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were you bound to this man?' 'Yes, for six years.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'By whom were you bound?' 'My mother got 15<i>s.</i> for the
-six years.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you know whether the children were, in point of fact,
-compelled to stop during the whole time for which they were engaged?'
-'Yes, they were.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'By law?' 'I cannot say by law; but they were compelled
-by the master; I never saw any law used there but the law of
-their own hands.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Does that practice of binding continue in Scotland now?'
-'Not in the place I am in.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How long since it has ceased?' 'For the last two years
-there has been no engagement in Dundee.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Are they generally engagements from week to week, or from
-month to month?' 'From month to month.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you know whether a practice has prevailed of sending
-poor children, who are orphans, from workhouses and hospitals to
-that work?' 'There were fifteen, at the time I was there, came
-from Edinburgh Poorhouse.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you know what the Poorhouse in Edinburgh is?' 'It is
-just a house for putting poor orphans in.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you know the name of that establishment?' 'No.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you happen to know that these fifteen came to the mill
-from an establishment for the reception of poor orphans?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How many had you at the mill?' 'Fifteen.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'At what ages?' 'From 12 to 15.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were they treated in a similar manner to yourself?' 'Yes,
-we were all treated alike; there was one treatment for all, from
-the oldest to the youngest.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did not some of you attempt, not merely to get out of the mill,
-but out of the country?' 'Yes; I have known some go down to
-the boat at Dundee, in order to escape by that means, and the
-overseer has caught them there, and brought them back again.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Is there not a ferry there?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'When persons disembark there, they may embark on the
-ferry?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did your parents live in Dundee at this time?' 'No.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Had you any friends at Dundee?' 'No.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The fact is, that you had nobody that could protect you?' 'No,
-I had no protection; the first three years I was at the mill I never
-saw my mother at all; and when I got this accident with my
-hand she never knew of it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Where did she reside at that time?' 'At Perth.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You say that your master himself was in the habit of treating
-you in the way you have mentioned?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Describe what the treatment was?' 'The treatment was
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
-very bad; perhaps a box on the ear, or very frequently a kick
-with his foot.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were you punished for falling asleep in that mill?' 'Yes,
-I have got my licks for it, and been punished very severely for it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Where did you go to then?' 'I went to a mill in Argyleshire.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How many years were you in this mill of Mr. Andrew Smith's,
-of Gateside?' 'Eleven years.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What age were you, when you went to this mill in Argyleshire?'
-'About 16.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You stated that you were bound to stay with Mr. Smith for
-six years; how came you then to continue with him the remaining
-five years?' 'At the end of those six years I got 3<i>l.</i> a year from
-my master, and found my own clothes out of that.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were you then contented with your situation?' 'No, I cannot
-say that I was; but I did not know any thing of any other
-business.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You had not been instructed in any other business, and
-you did not know where you could apply for a maintenance?'
-'No.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'To whose mill did you then remove?' 'To Messrs. Duff,
-Taylor & Co., at Ruthven, Forfarshire.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What were your hours of labour there?' 'Fourteen hours.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Exclusive of the time for meals and refreshment?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was that a flax mill?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you work for that number of hours both winter and
-summer?' 'Yes, both winter and summer.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How old were you at this time?' 'Sixteen.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Are you aware whether any increase was made in the number
-of hours of work, in the year 1819, by an agreement between
-the masters and the workmen?' 'No, I cannot say as to that.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You think there could not be much increase of your previous
-labour, whatever agreement might have been made upon the subject?'
-'No, there could have been no increase made to that; it
-was too long for that.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were the hands chastised up to their labour in that mill?'
-'Yes.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'That was the practice there also?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you mean to state that you were treated with great cruelty
-at the age of 16, and that you still remain in the mill?' 'I was
-not beaten so severely as I was in Fifeshire.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You were not so beaten as to induce you to leave that mill?'
-'If I had left it, I did not know where to go.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you try to get into any other occupation?' 'Yes, I went
-apprentice to a flax-dresser at that time.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What was the reason that you did not keep at it?' 'My
-hand was so disabled, that it was found I was not able to follow
-that business.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You found you could not get your bread at that business?'
-'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Consequently, you were obliged to go back to the mills?'
-'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was it the custom, when you were 16 years of age, for the
-overseer to beat you?' 'Yes, the boys were often beaten very
-severely in the mill.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'At this time you were hired for wages; how much had you?'
-'Half-a-crown a week.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And your maintenance?' 'No, I maintained myself.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Is not that much lower than the wages now given to people
-of sixteen years of age?' 'I have a boy about sixteen that has
-4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week, but he is in a high situation; he is oiler of the
-machinery.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Besides, you have been injured in your hand by the accident
-to which you have alluded, and that probably might have interfered
-with the amount of your wages?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What duty had you in the mill at this time, for the performance
-of which you received 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week, when you were at Duff,
-Taylor & Co.'s?' 'I was a card-feeder.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did your hand prevent you working at that time as well as
-other boys of the same age, in feeding the cards?' 'Yes, on the
-old system; I was not able to feed with a stick at that time; it is
-done away with now.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How long did you stay there?' 'About fifteen months.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How many hours did you work there?' 'Fourteen.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you mean that you worked fourteen hours actual labour?'
-'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was it a water-mill?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were you ever short of water?' 'We had plenty of water.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How long did you stop for dinner?' 'Half an hour.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What time had you for breakfast, or for refreshment in the
-afternoon?' 'We had no time for that.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you eat your breakfast and dinner in the mill then?'
-'No, we went to the victualling house.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was that some building attached to the mill?' 'Yes, at a
-a small distance from the mill.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was it provided for the purpose of the mill?' 'Yes, we got
-our bread and water there.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you sleep in a bothy at Duff & Taylor's?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were you locked up in a bothy?' 'No.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What is a bothy?' 'It is a house with beds all round.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Is it not the practice for farm-servants, and others, who are
-unmarried, to sleep in such places?' 'I could not say as to that;
-I am not acquainted with the farm system.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'To what mill did you next go?' 'To Mr. Webster's, at Battus
-Den, within eleven miles of Dundee.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'In what situation did you act there?' 'I acted as an overseer.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'At 17 years of age?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you inflict the same punishment that you yourself had
-experienced?' 'I went as an overseer; not as a slave, but as a
-slave-driver.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What were the hours of labour in that mill?' 'My master
-told me that I had to produce a certain quantity of yarn; the
-hours were at that time fourteen; I said that I was not able to
-produce the quantity of yarn that was required; I told him if he
-took the timepiece out of the mill I would produce that quantity,
-and after that time I found no difficulty in producing the quantity.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How long have you worked per day in order to produce
-the quantity your master required?' 'I have wrought nineteen
-hours.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was this a water-mill?' 'Yes, water and steam both.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'To what time have you worked?' 'I have seen the mill
-going till it was past 12 o'clock on the Saturday night.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'So that the mill was still working on the Sabbath morning.'
-'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were the workmen paid by the piece, or by the day?' 'No,
-all had stated wages.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did not that almost compel you to use great severity to the
-hands then under you?' 'Yes; I was compelled often to beat
-them, in order to get them to attend to their work, from their
-being overwrought.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were not the children exceedingly fatigued at that time?'
-'Yes, exceedingly fatigued.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were the children bound in the same way in that mill?'
-'No; they were bound from one year's end to another, for twelve
-months.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you keep the hands locked up in the same way in that
-mill?' 'Yes, we locked up the mill; but we did not lock the
-bothy.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you find that the children were unable to pursue their
-labour properly to that extent?' 'Yes; they have been brought
-to that condition, that I have gone and fetched up the doctor to
-them, to see what was the matter with them, and to know
-whether they were able to rise, or not able to rise; they were
-not at all able to rise; we have had great difficulty in getting
-them up.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'When that was the case, how long have they been in bed,
-generally speaking?' 'Perhaps not above four or five hours in
-their beds. Sometimes we were very ill-plagued by men coming
-about the females' bothy.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Were your hands principally girls?' 'Girls and boys all
-together; we had only a very few boys.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did the boys sleep in the girls' bothy?' 'Yes, all together.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you mean to say that there was only one bothy for the
-girls and for the boys who worked there?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What age were those girls and boys?' 'We had them from
-8 to 20 years of age; and the boys were from 10 to 14, or thereabouts.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'You spoke of men who came about the bothy; did the girls
-expect them?' 'Yes; of course they had their sweethearts.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did they go into the bothy?' 'Yes; and once I got a sore
-beating from one of them, for ordering him out of the bothy.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How long were you in that mill?' 'Three years and nine
-months.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And where did you go to next?' 'To Messrs. Anderson &
-Company, at Moneyfieth, about six miles from Dundee.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What were your hours of labour there?' 'Fifteen hours.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Exclusive of the hour for refreshment?' 'Yes; we seldom
-stopped for refreshment there.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You worked without any intermission at all, frequently?'
-'Yes; we made a turn-about.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Explain what you mean by a turn-about?' 'We let them
-out by turns in the days.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How long did you let one go out?' 'Just as short a time as
-they could have to take their victuals in.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What were the ages of the children principally employed in
-that place?' 'From about 12 to 20; they were all girls that I
-had there, except one boy, and I think he was 8 years of age.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was this a flax-mill?' 'Yes, all flax.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you find that the children there were exceedingly distressed
-with their work?' 'Yes; for the mill being in the country,
-we were very scarce of workers, and the master often came out
-and compelled them by flattery to go and work half the night
-after their day's labour, and then they had only the other half to
-sleep.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You mean that the master induced them by offering them
-extra wages to go to work half the night?' 'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Was that very prejudicial to the girls so employed?' 'Yes;
-I have seen some girls that were working half the night, that have
-fainted and fallen down at their work, and have had to be carried
-out.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Did you use severity in that mill?' 'No, I was not very
-severe there.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You find, perhaps, that the girls do not require that severity
-that the boys do?' 'Yes.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'How large was that mill?' 'There were only eighteen of us
-altogether.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'From what you have seen, should you say that the treatment
-of the children and the hours of labour are worse in the small or
-in the large mills?' 'I could not answer that question.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Have you ever been in any large mill?' 'Yes, I am in one
-just now, Mr. Baxter's.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Is the treatment of the children better in that large mill than
-in the smaller mills in which you have been usually?' 'There is
-little difference; the treatment is all one.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'To whose mill did you next go?' 'To Messrs. Baxter &
-Brothers, at Dundee.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'State the hours of labour which you worked when you were
-there, when trade was brisk?' 'Thirteen hours and twenty
-minutes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What time was allowed for meals?' 'Fifty minutes each day.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Have you found that the system is getting any better now?'
-'No, the system is getting no better with us.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Is there as much beating as there was?' 'There is not so
-much in the licking way.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'But it is not entirely abolished, the system of chastisement?'
-'No, it is far from that.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you think that, where young children are employed, that
-system ought, or can be, entirely dispensed with, of giving some
-chastisement to the children of that age?' 'They would not require
-chastisement if they had shorter daily work.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you mean to state that they are only chastised because
-through weariness they are unable to attend to their work, and
-that they are not chastised for other faults and carelessness as
-well?' 'There may be other causes besides, but weariness is the
-principal fault.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Does not that over-labour induce that weariness and incapacity
-to do the work, which brings upon them chastisement at
-other parts of the day as well as in the evening?' 'Yes; young
-girls, if their work go wrong, if they see me going round, and
-my countenance with the least frown upon it, they will begin
-crying when I go by.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Then they live in a state of perpetual alarm and suffering?'
-'Yes.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you think that those children are healthy?' 'No, they
-are far from that; I have two girls that have been under me these
-two years; the one is 13 years, the other 15, and they are both
-orphans and sisters, and both one size, and they very seldom are
-working together, because the one or the other is generally ill;
-and they are working for 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Have you the same system of locking up now?' 'Yes, locking
-up all day.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Are they locked up at night?' 'No; after they have left
-their work we have nothing more to do with them.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What time do they leave their work in the evening now?'
-'About 20 minutes past 7.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What time do they go to it in the morning?' 'Five minutes
-before 5.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you conceive that that is at all consistent with the health
-of those children?' 'It is certainly very greatly against their
-health.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Is not the flax-spinning business in itself very unwholesome?'
-'Very unwholesome.'</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">So much for the slavery of the factories—a slavery
-which destroys human beings, body and soul. The fate
-of the helpless children condemned to such protracted,
-exhausting toil, under such demoralizing influences,
-with the lash constantly impending over them, and no
-alternative but starvation, is enough to excite the tears
-of all humane persons. That such a system should be
-tolerated in a land where a Christian church is a part
-of the government, is indeed remarkable—proving how
-greatly men are disinclined to practise what they
-profess.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">We cannot close this chapter upon the British factories
-without making a quotation from a work which,
-we fear, has been too little read in the United Kingdom—a
-fiction merely in construction, a truthful narrative
-in fact. We allude to "The Life and Adventures of
-Michael Armstrong, the Factory Boy," by Frances
-Trollope. Copious editions of this heart-rending story
-should be immediately issued by the British publishers.
-This passage, describing the visit of Michael Armstrong
-to the cotton factory, in company with Sir
-Matthew Dowling and Dr. Crockley, is drawn to the
-life:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The party entered the building, whence—as all know who
-have done the like—every sight, every sound, every scent that
-kind nature has fitted to the organs of her children, so as to render
-the mere unfettered use of them a delight, are banished for
-ever and for ever. The ceaseless whirring of a million hissing
-wheels seizes on the tortured ear; and while threatening to destroy
-the delicate sense, seems bent on proving first, with a sort
-of mocking mercy, of how much suffering it can be the cause.
-The scents that reek around, from oil, tainted water, and human
-filth, with that last worst nausea arising from the hot refuse of
-atmospheric air, left by some hundred pairs of labouring lungs,
-render the act of breathing a process of difficulty, disgust, and
-pain. All this is terrible. But what the eye brings home to the
-heart of those who look round upon the horrid earthly hell, is
-enough to make it all forgotten; for who can think of villanous
-smells, or heed the suffering of the ear-racking sounds, while
-they look upon hundreds of helpless children, divested of every
-trace of health, of joyousness, and even of youth! Assuredly
-there is no exaggeration in this; for except only in their diminutive
-size, these suffering infants have no trace of it. Lean and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
-distorted limbs, sallow and sunken cheeks, dim hollow eyes,
-that speak unrest and most unnatural carefulness, give to each
-tiny, trembling, unelastic form, a look of hideous premature old
-age.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But in the room they entered, the dirty, ragged, miserable
-crew were all in active performance of their various tasks; the
-overlookers, strap in hand, on the alert; the whirling spindles
-urging the little slaves who waited on them to movements as unceasing
-as their own; and the whole monstrous chamber redolent
-of all the various impurities that 'by the perfection of our manufacturing
-system' are converted into 'gales of Araby' for the
-rich, after passing, in the shape of certain poison, through the
-lungs of the poor. So Sir Matthew proudly looked about him
-and approved; and though it was athwart that species of haughty
-frown in which such dignity as his is apt to clothe itself, Dr.
-Crockley failed not to perceive that his friend and patron was in
-good humour, and likely to be pleased by any light and lively
-jestings in which he might indulge. Perceiving, therefore, that
-little Michael passed on with downcast eyes, unrecognised by
-any, he wrote upon a slip of paper, for he knew his voice could
-not be heard—'Make the boy take that bare-legged scavenger
-wench round the neck, and give her a kiss while she is next lying
-down, and let us see them sprawling together.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Sir Matthew read the scroll, and grinned applause.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The miserable creature to whom the facetious doctor pointed,
-was a little girl about seven years old, whose office as 'scavenger'
-was to collect incessantly, from the machinery and from the floor,
-the flying fragments of cotton that might impede the work. In
-the performance of this duty, the child was obliged, from time to
-time, to stretch itself with sudden quickness on the ground, while
-the hissing machinery passed over her; and when this is skilfully
-done, and the head, body, and outstretched limbs carefully glued
-to the floor, the steady-moving but threatening mass may pass and
-repass over the dizzy head and trembling body without touching
-it. But accidents frequently occur; and many are the flaxen
-locks rudely torn from infant heads, in the process.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It was a sort of vague hope that something comical of this kind
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
-might occur, which induced Dr. Crockley to propose this frolic to
-his friend, and probably the same idea suggested itself to Sir
-Matthew likewise.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I say, Master Michael!' vociferated the knight, in a scream
-which successfully struggled with the din, 'show your old acquaintance
-that pride has not got the upper hand of you in your
-fine clothes. Take scavenger No. 3, there, round the neck; now—now—now,
-as she lies sprawling, and let us see you give her a
-hearty kiss.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The stern and steady machinery moved onward, passing over
-the body of the little girl, who owed her safety to the miserable
-leanness of her shrunken frame; but Michael moved not.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Are you deaf, you little vermin?' roared Sir Matthew. 'Now
-she's down again. Do what I bid you, or, by the living God, you
-shall smart for it!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Still Michael did not stir, neither did he speak; or if he did,
-his young voice was wholly inaudible, and the anger of Sir Matthew
-was demonstrated by a clenched fist and threatening brow.
-'Where the devil is Parsons?' he demanded, in accents that poor
-Michael both heard and understood. 'Fine as he is, the strap
-will do him good.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In saying this, the great man turned to reconnoitre the space
-he had traversed, and by which his confidential servant must
-approach, and found that he was already within a good yard
-of him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'That's good—I want you, Parsons. Do you see this little
-rebel here, that I have dressed and treated like one of my own
-children? What d'ye think of his refusing to kiss Miss No. 3,
-scavenger, when I bid him?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The devil he does?' said the manager, grinning: 'we must
-see if we can't mend that. Mind your hits, Master Piecer, and
-salute the young lady when the mules go back, like a gentleman.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Sir Matthew perceived that his favourite agent feared to enforce
-his first brutal command, and was forced, therefore, to content
-himself with seeing the oiled and grimy face of the filthy little
-girl in contact with that of the now clean and delicate-looking
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
-Michael. But he felt he had been foiled, and cast a glance upon
-his <i>protégé</i>, which seemed to promise that he would not forget
-it."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Nor is the delineation, in the following verses, by
-Francis M. Blake, less truthful and touching:—</p>
-
-<p class="ac">THE FACTORY CHILD.</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse">Early one winter's morning,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">The weather wet and wild,</div>
- <div class="verse">Some hours before the dawning,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">A father call'd his child;</div>
- <div class="verse">Her daily morsel bringing,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">The darksome room he paced,</div>
- <div class="verse">And cried, "The bell is ringing—</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">My hapless darling, haste."</div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse">"Father, I'm up, but weary,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">I scarce can reach the door,</div>
- <div class="verse">And long the way and dreary—</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">Oh, carry me once more!</div>
- <div class="verse">To help us we've no mother,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">To live how hard we try—</div>
- <div class="verse">They kill'd my little brother—</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">Like him I'll work and die!"</div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse">His feeble arms they bore her,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">The storm was loud and wild—</div>
- <div class="verse">God of the poor man, hear him!</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">He prays, "Oh, save my child!"</div>
- <div class="verse">Her wasted form seem'd nothing—</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">The load was in his heart;</div>
- <div class="verse">The sufferer he kept soothing,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">Till at the mill they part.</div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse">The overlooker met her,
- <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">As to the frame she crept,</div>
- <div class="verse">And with the thong he beat her,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">And cursed her as she wept.</div>
- <div class="verse">Alas! what hours of horror</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">Made up her latest day!</div>
- <div class="verse">In toil, and pain, and sorrow,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">They slowly pass'd away.</div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse">It seem'd, as she grew weaker,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">The threads the oftener broke,</div>
- <div class="verse">The rapid wheels ran quicker,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">And heavier fell the stroke.</div>
- <div class="verse">The sun had long descended,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">But night brought no repose:</div>
- <div class="verse"><i>Her</i> day began and ended</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">As her task-masters chose.</div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse">Then to her little neighbour</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">Her only cent she paid,</div>
- <div class="verse">To take her last hour's labour,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">While by her frame she laid.</div>
- <div class="verse">At last, the engine ceasing,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">The captives homeward flee,</div>
- <div class="verse">One thought her strength increasing—</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">Her parent soon to see.</div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse">She left, but oft she tarried,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">She fell, and rose no more,</div>
- <div class="verse">But by her comrades carried,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">She reach'd her father's door.</div>
- <div class="verse">All night with tortured feeling,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">He watch'd his speechless child;</div>
- <div class="verse">While close beside her kneeling,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">She knew him not, nor smiled.</div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse">Again the loud bell's ringing,
- <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">Her last perceptions tried,</div>
- <div class="verse">When, from her straw bed springing,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">"'Tis time!" she shriek'd, and—died.</div>
- <div class="verse">That night a chariot pass'd her,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">While on the ground she lay,</div>
- <div class="verse">The daughters of her master</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">An evening visit pay;</div>
- <div class="verse">Their tender hearts were sighing,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">As negro wrongs were told,</div>
- <div class="verse">While the white slave was dying,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">Who gain'd their father's gold!</div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">SLAVERY IN THE BRITISH WORKSHOPS.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">When</span> Captain Hugh Clapperton, the celebrated
-English traveller, visited Bello, the sultan of the
-Felatahs, at Sackatoo, he made the monarch some presents,
-in the name of his majesty the king of England.
-These were—two new blunderbusses, a pair of double-barrelled
-pistols, a pocket compass, an embroidered
-jacket, a scarlet bornonse, a pair of scarlet breeches,
-thirty-four yards of silk, two turban shawls, four
-pounds of cloves, four pounds of cinnamon, three cases
-of gunpowder with shot and balls, three razors, three
-clasp-knives, three looking-glasses, six snuff-boxes, a
-spy-glass, and a large tea-tray. The sultan said—"Every
-thing is wonderful, but you are the greatest
-curiosity of all!" and then added, "What can I give
-that is most acceptable to the king of England?"
-Clapperton replied—"The most acceptable service you
-can render to the king of England is to co-operate with
-his majesty in putting a stop to the slave-trade on the
-coast, as the king of England sends large ships to
-cruise there, for the sole purpose of seizing all vessels
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>
-engaged in this trade, whose crews are thrown into
-prison, and of liberating the unfortunate slaves, on
-whom lands and houses are conferred, at one of our
-settlements in Africa." "What!" exclaimed the sultan,
-"have you no slaves in England?" "No: whenever
-a slave sets his foot in England, he is from that
-moment free," replied Clapperton. "What do you
-then do for servants?" inquired the sultan. "We hire
-them for a stated period, and give them regular wages;
-nor is any person in England allowed to strike another;
-and the very soldiers are fed, clothed, and paid by the
-government," replied the English captain. "God is
-great!" exclaimed the sultan. "You are a beautiful
-people." Clapperton had succeeded in putting a beautiful
-illusion upon the sultan's imagination, as some
-English writers have endeavoured to do among the
-civilized nations of the earth. If the sultan had been
-taken to England, to see the freedom of the "servants"
-in the workshops, perhaps he would have exclaimed—"God
-is great! Slaves are plenty."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The condition of the apprentices in the British
-workshops is at least as bad as that of the children in
-the factories. According to the second report of the
-commissioners appointed by Parliament, the degrading
-system of involuntary apprenticeship—in many cases
-without the consent of parents—and merely according
-to the regulations of the brutal guardians of the workhouses,
-is general. The commissioners say
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"That in some trades, those especially requiring skilled workmen,
-these apprentices are bound by legal indentures, usually at
-the age of fourteen, and for a term of seven years, the age being
-rarely younger, and the period of servitude very seldom longer;
-but by far the greater number are bound <i>without any prescribed
-legal forms</i>, and in almost all these cases they are required to
-serve their masters, <i>at whatever age they may commence their apprenticeship,
-until they attain the age of twenty-one</i>, in some instances
-in employments in which there is nothing deserving the
-name of skill to be acquired, and in other instances in employments
-in which they are taught to make only one particular part
-of the article manufactured: <i>so that at the end of their servitude
-they are altogether unable to make any one article of their trade in
-a complete state</i>. That a large proportion of these apprentices
-consist of orphans, or are the children of widows, or belong to
-the very poorest families, and frequently are apprenticed by
-boards of guardians.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That in these districts it is common for parents to borrow
-money of the employers, and to stipulate, by express agreement,
-to repay it from their children's wages; a practice which prevails
-likewise in Birmingham and Warrington: in most other places
-no evidence was discovered of its existence."—<i>Second Report of
-the Commissioners</i>, p. 195, 196.</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Here we have a fearful text on which to comment.
-In these few sentences we see the disclosure of a system
-which, if followed out and abused, must produce a
-state of slavery of the very worst and most oppressive
-character. To show that it <i>is</i> thus abused, here are
-some extracts from the Reports on the Wolverhampton
-district, to which the Central Board of Commissioners
-direct special attention:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The peculiar trade of the Wolverhampton district, with the
-exception of a very few large proprietors, is in the hands of a
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>
-great number of small masters, who are personally known only to
-some of the foremen of the factors to whom they take their work,
-and scarcely one of whom is sufficiently important to have his name
-over his door or his workshop in front of a street. In the town of
-Wolverhampton alone there are of these small masters, for example,
-two hundred and sixty locksmiths, sixty or seventy key-makers,
-from twenty to thirty screwmakers, and a like number of latch,
-bolt, snuffer, tobacco-box, and spectacle frame and case makers.
-Each of these small masters, if they have not children of their
-own, generally employ from one to three apprentices."—<i>Horne,
-Report</i>; App. pt. ii. p. 2. s. 13 et seq.</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The workshops of the small masters are usually of
-the dirtiest, most dilapidated, and confined description,
-and situated in the most filthy and undrained localities,
-at the back of their wretched abodes.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"There are two modes of obtaining apprentices in this district,
-namely, the legal one of application to magistrates or boards of
-guardians for sanction of indentures; and, secondly, the illegal
-mode of taking the children to be bound by an attorney, without
-any such reference to the proper authorities. There are many
-more bound by this illegal mode than by the former.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In all cases, the children, of whatever age, are bound till they
-attain the age of twenty-one years. If the child be only seven
-years of age, the period of servitude remains the same, however
-simple the process or nature of the trade to be learnt. During
-the first year or two, if the apprentice be very young, he is
-merely used to run errands, do dirty household work, nurse infants,
-&c.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"If the master die before the apprentice attain the age of
-twenty-one years, the apprentice is equally bound as the servant
-of his deceased master's heirs, executors, administrators, and
-assigns—in fact, the apprentice is part of the deceased master's
-goods and chattels. Whoever, therefore, may carry on the trade,
-he is the servant of such person or persons until his manumission
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>
-is obtained by reaching his one-and-twentieth year. The apprentice
-has no regular pocket-money allowed him by the master.
-Sometimes a few halfpence are given to him. An apprentice of
-eighteen or nineteen years of age often has 2<i>d.</i> or 3<i>d.</i> a week
-given him, but never as a rightful claim."—<i>Second Report of
-Commissioners.</i></p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Among other witnesses, the superintendent registrar states
-that in those trades particularly in which the work is by the
-piece, the growth of the children is injured; that in these cases
-more especially their strength is over-taxed for profit. One of the
-constables of the town says that 'there are examples without
-number in the place, of deformed men and boys; their backs or
-their legs, and often both, grow wrong; the backs grow out and
-the legs grow in at the knees—hump-backed and knock-kneed.
-There is most commonly only one leg turned in—a K leg; it is
-occasioned by standing all day for years filing at a vice; the hind
-leg grows in—the leg that is hindermost. Thinks that among the
-adults of the working classes of Willenhall, whose work is all
-forging and filing, one-third of the number are afflicted with
-hernia,' &c."—<i>Horne, Evidence</i>, p. 28, No. 128.</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">As the profits of many of the masters are small, it
-may be supposed that the apprentices do not get the
-best of food, shelter, and clothing. We have the evidence
-of Henry Nicholls Payne, superintendent registrar
-of Wolverhampton, Henry Hill, Esq., magistrate,
-and Paul Law, of Wolverhampton, that it is common
-for masters to buy offal meat, and the meat of animals
-that have died from all manner of causes, for the food
-of apprentices. The clothing of these poor creatures
-is but thin tatters for all seasons. The apprentices
-constantly complain that they do not get enough to
-eat.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"They are frequently fed," says the sub-commissioner, "especially
-during the winter season, on red herrings, potatoes,
-bread with lard upon it, and have not always sufficient even of
-this.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Their living is poor; they have not enough to eat. Did not
-know what it was to have butcher's meat above once a week;
-often a red herring was divided between two for dinner. The
-boys are often clemmed, (almost starved;) have often been to
-his house to ask for a bit of pudding—are frequent complaints.
-In some trades, particularly in the casting-shops of founderies,
-in the shops in which general forge or smith's work is done, and
-in the shops of the small locksmiths, screwmakers, &c., there are
-no regular meal-hours, but the children swallow their food as they
-can, during their work, often while noxious fumes or dust are flying
-about, and perhaps with noxious compositions in their unwashed
-hands."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The apprentices employed in nail-making are described
-as so many poorly fed and poorly clad slaves.
-Almost the whole population of Upper Sedgley and
-Upper Gormal, and nearly one-half of the population
-of Coseley, are employed in nail-making. The nails are
-made at forges by the hammer, and these forges, which
-are the workshops, are usually at the backs of the
-wretched hovels in which the work-people reside.
-"The best kind of forges," says Mr. Horne, "are little
-brick shops, of about fifteen feet long and twelve feet
-wide, in which seven or eight individuals constantly
-work together, with no ventilation except the door, and
-two slits, or loopholes, in the wall; but the great
-majority of these work-places are very much smaller,
-(about ten feet long by nine wide,) filthily dirty; and on
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>
-looking in upon one of them when the fire is not
-lighted, presents the appearance of a dilapidated coal-hole,
-or little black den." In these places children
-are first put to labour from the ages of seven to eight,
-where they continue to work daily, from six o'clock in
-the morning till seven or eight at night; and on weigh-days—the
-days the nails are taken to the factors—from
-three or four in the morning till nine at night. They
-gradually advance in the number of nails they are required
-to make per day, till they arrive at the <i>stint</i> of
-one thousand. A girl or boy of from ten to twelve
-years of age continually accomplishes this arduous
-task from day to day, and week to week. Their food
-at the same time is, in general, insufficient, their clothing
-miserable, and the wretchedness of their dwellings
-almost unparalleled.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Throughout the long descent of the main roadway, or rather
-sludgeway, of Lower Gormal," says Mr. Horne, "and throughout
-the very long winding and straggling roadway of Coseley, I never
-saw one abode of a working family which had the least appearance
-of comfort or wholesomeness, while the immense majority
-were of the most wretched and sty-like description. The effect
-of these unfavourable circumstances is greatly to injure the
-health of the children, and to stop their growth; and it is remarkable
-that the boys are more injured than the girls, because
-the girls are not put to work as early as the boys by two years or
-more. They appear to bear the heat of the forges better, and
-they sometimes even become strong by their work."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The children employed in nail-making, in Scotland,
-evince the nature of their toil by their emaciated looks
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>
-and stunted growth. They are clothed in apparel in
-which many paupers would not dress; and they are
-starved into quickness at their work, as their meals
-depend on the quantity of work accomplished.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the manufacture of earthenware there are many
-young slaves employed. The mould-runners are an
-especially pitiable class of workmen; they receive on a
-mould the ware as it is formed by the workmen, and
-carry it to the stove-room, where both mould and ware
-are arranged on shelves to dry. The same children
-liberate the mould when sufficiently dry, and carry it
-back to receive a fresh supply of ware, to be in like
-manner deposited on the shelves. They are also generally
-required by the workmen to "wedge their clay;"
-that is, to lift up large lumps of clay, which are to be
-thrown down forcibly on a hard surface to free the clay
-from air and to render it more compact. Excepting
-when thus engaged, they are constantly "on the run"
-from morning till night, always carrying a considerable
-weight. These children are generally pale, thin, weak,
-and unhealthy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the manufacture of glass the toil and suffering of
-the apprentices, as recorded in the evidence before the
-commissioners, are extreme. One witness said—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"From his experience he thinks the community has no idea of
-what a boy at a bottle-work goes through; 'it would never be
-allowed, if it were known;' he knows himself; he has been carried
-home from fair fatigue; and on two several occasions, when
-laid in bed, could not rest, and had to be taken out and laid on
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
-the floor. These boys begin work on Sabbath evenings at ten
-o'clock, and are not at home again till between one and three on
-Monday afternoon. The drawing the bottles out of the arches is
-a work which no child should be allowed, on any consideration,
-to do; he himself has been obliged several times to have planks
-put in to walk on, which have caught fire under the feet; and a
-woollen cap over the ears and always mits on the hands; and a
-boy cannot generally stop in them above five minutes. There is
-no man that works in a bottle-work, but will corroborate the
-statement that such work checks the growth of the body; the irregularity
-and the unnatural times of work cause the boys and men
-to feel in a sort of stupor or dulness from heavy sweats and irregular
-hours. The boys work harder than any man in the works;
-all will allow that. From their experience of the bad effect on
-the health, witness and five others left the work, and none but
-one ever went to a bottle-work after."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The young females apprenticed to dressmakers suffer
-greatly from over-work and bad treatment, as has long
-been known. John Dalrymple, Esq., Assistant Surgeon,
-Royal London Ophthalmic Hospital, narrates the following
-case:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"A delicate and beautiful young woman, an orphan, applied
-at the hospital for very defective vision, and her symptoms were
-precisely as just described. Upon inquiry it was ascertained that
-she had been apprenticed to a milliner, and was in her last year
-of indentureship. Her working hours were eighteen in the day,
-occasionally even more; her meals were snatched with scarcely
-an interval of a few minutes from work, and her general health
-was evidently assuming a tendency to consumption. An appeal
-was made, by my directions, to her mistress for relaxation; but
-the reply was that, in the last year of her apprenticeship, her
-labours had become valuable, and that her mistress was entitled to
-them as a recompense for teaching. Subsequently a threat of appeal
-to the Lord Mayor, and a belief that a continuation of the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>
-occupation would soon render the apprentice incapable of labour,
-induced the mistress to cancel the indentures, and the victim was
-saved."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Frederick Tyrrell, Esq., Surgeon to the London Ophthalmic
-Hospital, and to St. Thomas's Hospital, mentions
-a case equally distressing:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"A fair and delicate girl, about seventeen years of age, was
-brought to witness in consequence of total loss of vision. She
-had experienced the train of symptoms which have been detailed,
-to the fullest extent. On examination, both eyes were found disorganized,
-and recovery therefore was hopeless. She had been
-an apprentice as a dress-maker at the west end of the town; and
-some time before her vision became affected, her general health
-had been materially deranged from too close confinement and
-excessive work. The immediate cause of the disease in the eyes
-was excessive and continued application to making mourning.
-She stated that she had been compelled to remain without changing
-her dress for nine days and nights consecutively; that during
-this period she had been permitted only occasionally to rest on a
-mattrass placed on the floor, for an hour or two at a time; and
-that her meals were placed at her side, cut up, so that as little
-time as possible should be spent in their consumption. Witness
-regrets that he did not, in this and a few other cases nearly as
-flagrant and distressing, induce the sufferers to appeal to a jury
-for compensation."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">It may be asserted, without fear of successful contradiction,
-that, in proportion to the numbers employed,
-there are no occupations in which so much disease is
-produced as in dress-making. The report of a sub-commissioner
-states that it is a "serious aggravation
-of this evil, that the unkindness of the employer very
-frequently causes these young persons, when they become
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>
-unwell, to conceal their illness, from the fear of
-being sent out of the house; and in this manner the
-disease often becomes increased in severity, or is even
-rendered incurable. Some of the principals are so
-cruel, as to object to the young women obtaining medical
-assistance."</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_179.jpg" id="i_179.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_179.jpg"
- alt="" />
- <div class="caption">SLAVES OF THE NEEDLE.</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">The London Times, in an exceedingly able article
-upon "Seamstress Slavery," thus describes the terrible
-system:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Granting that the negro gangs who are worked on the cotton
-grounds of the Southern States of North America, or in the sugar
-plantations of Brazil, are slaves, in what way should we speak
-of persons who are circumstanced in the manner we are about to
-relate? Let us consider them as inhabitants of a distant region—say
-of New Orleans—no matter about the colour of their skins,
-and then ask ourselves what should be our opinion of a nation in
-which such things are tolerated. They are of a sex and age the
-least qualified to struggle with the hardships of their lot—young
-women, for the most part, between sixteen and thirty years of
-age. As we would not deal in exaggerations, we would promise
-that we take them at their busy season, just as writers upon
-American slavery are careful to select the season of cotton-picking
-and sugar-crushing as illustrations of their theories. The
-young female slaves, then, of whom we speak, are worked in
-gangs, in ill-ventilated rooms, or rooms that are not ventilated at
-all; for it is found by experience that if air be admitted it brings
-with it "blacks" of another kind, which damage the work upon
-which the seamstresses are employed. Their occupation is to
-sew from morning till night and night till morning—stitch, stitch,
-stitch—without pause, without speech, without a smile, without a
-sigh. In the gray of the morning they must be at work, say at
-six o'clock, having a quarter of an hour allowed them for breaking
-their fast. The food served out to them is scanty and miserable
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>
-enough, but still, in all probability, more than their fevered
-system can digest. We do not, however, wish to make out a case
-of starvation; the suffering is of another kind, equally dreadful
-of endurance. From six o'clock till eleven it is stitch, stitch. At
-eleven a small piece of dry bread is served to each seamstress,
-but still she must stitch on. At one o'clock, twenty minutes are
-allowed for dinner—a slice of meat and a potato, with a glass of
-toast-and-water to each workwoman. Then again to work—stitch,
-stitch, until five o'clock, when fifteen minutes are again allowed
-for tea. The needles are then set in motion once more—stitch,
-stitch, until nine o'clock, when fifteen minutes are allowed for
-supper—a piece of dry bread and cheese and a glass of beer.
-From nine o'clock at night until one, two, and three o'clock in
-the morning, stitch, stitch; the only break in this long period
-being a minute or two—just time enough to swallow a cup of
-strong tea, which is supplied lest the young people should 'feel
-sleepy.' At three o'clock <span class="sc">A.M.</span>, to bed; at six o'clock
-<span class="sc">A.M.</span>,
-out of it again to resume the duties of the following day. There
-must be a good deal of monotony in the occupation.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But when we have said that for certain months in the year
-these unfortunate young persons are worked in the manner we
-describe, we have not said all. Even during the few hours allotted
-to sleep—should we not rather say to a feverish cessation
-from toil—their miseries continue. They are cooped up in sleeping-pens,
-ten in a room which would perhaps be sufficient for the
-accommodation of two persons. The alternation is from the
-treadmill—and what a treadmill!—to the Black Hole of Calcutta.
-Not a word of remonstrance is allowed, or is possible.
-The seamstresses may leave the mill, no doubt, but what awaits
-them on the other side of the door?—starvation, if they be honest;
-if not, in all probability, prostitution and its consequence. They
-would scarcely escape from slavery that way. Surely this is a
-terrible state of things, and one which claims the anxious consideration
-of the ladies of England who have pronounced themselves
-so loudly against the horrors of negro slavery in the United
-States. Had this system of oppression against persons of their
-own sex been really exercised in New Orleans, it would have
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>
-elicited from them many expressions of sympathy for the sufferers,
-and of abhorrence for the cruel task-masters who could so
-cruelly over-work wretched creatures so unfitted for the toil.
-It is idle to use any further mystification in the matter. The
-scenes of misery we have described exist at our own doors, and
-in the most fashionable quarters of luxurious London. It is in
-the dress-making and millinery establishments of the 'West-end'
-that the system is steadily pursued. The continuous labour is bestowed
-upon the gay garments in which the 'ladies of England'
-love to adorn themselves. It is to satisfy their whims and caprices
-that their wretched sisters undergo these days and nights
-of suffering and toil. It is but right that we should confess the
-fault does not lie so much at the door of the customers as with
-the principals of these establishments. The milliners and dressmakers
-of the metropolis will not employ hands enough to do the
-work. They increase their profits from the blood and life of the
-wretched creatures in their employ. Certainly the prices charged
-for articles of dress at any of the great West-end establishments
-are sufficiently high—as most English heads of families know to
-their cost—to enable the proprietors to retain a competent staff
-of work-people, and at the same time to secure a very handsome
-profit to themselves. Wherein, then, lies the remedy? Will the
-case of these poor seamstresses be bettered if the ladies of England
-abstain partially, or in great measure, from giving their usual
-orders to their usual houses? In that case it may be said some
-of the seamstresses will be dismissed to starvation, and the remainder
-will be over-worked as before. We freely confess we do
-not see our way through the difficulty; for we hold the most improbable
-event in our social arrangements to be the fact, that a
-lady of fashion will employ a second-rate instead of a first-rate
-house for the purchase of her annual finery. The leading milliners
-and dressmakers of London have hold of English society
-at both ends. They hold the ladies by their vanity and their
-love of fine clothes, and the seamstresses by what appears to be
-their interest and by their love of life. Now, love of fine
-clothes and love of life are two very strong motive springs of
-human action."</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In confirmation of this thrilling representation of the
-seamstress slavery in London, the following letter subsequently
-appeared in the Times:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p>"<i>To the Editor of the Times</i>:</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Sir,—May I beg of you to insert this letter in your valuable
-paper at your earliest convenience, relative to the letters of the
-'First Hand?' I can state, without the slightest hesitation, that
-they are perfectly true. My poor sister was apprenticed to one
-of those fashionable West-end houses, and my father paid the
-large sum of £40 only to procure for his daughter a lingering
-death. I was allowed to visit her during her illness; I found her
-in a very small room, which two large beds would fill. In this
-room there were six children's bedsteads, and these were each to
-contain three grown-up young women. In consequence of my
-sister being so ill, she was allowed, on payment of 5<i>s.</i> per week,
-a bed to herself—one so small it might be called a cradle. The
-doctor who attended her when dying, can authenticate this letter.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Apologizing for encroaching on your valuable time, I remain
-your obedient servant,</p>
-
-<p class="ar"><span class="sc">A Poor Clerk</span>."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Many witnesses attest the ferocious bodily chastisement
-inflicted upon male apprentices in workshops:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In Sedgley they are sometimes struck with a red-hot iron,
-and burned and bruised simultaneously; sometimes they have
-'a flash of lightning' sent at them. When a bar of iron is drawn
-white-hot from the forge it emits fiery particles, which the man
-commonly flings in a shower upon the ground by a swing of his
-arm, before placing the bar upon the anvil. This shower is sometimes
-directed at the boy. It may come over his hands and face,
-his naked arms, or on his breast. If his shirt be open in front,
-which is usually the case, the red-hot particles are lodged therein,
-and he has to shake them out as fast as he can."—<i>Horne, Report</i>,
-p. 76, § 757. See also witnesses, p. 56, 1. 24; p. 59, 1. 54.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In Darlaston, however, the children appear to be very little
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
-beaten, and in Bilston there were only a few instances of cruel
-treatment: 'the boys are kicked and cuffed abundantly, but not
-with any vicious or cruel intention, and only with an idea that
-this is getting the work done.'"—Ibid. p. 62, 65, §§ 660, 688.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In Wednesbury the treatment is better than in any other
-town in the district. The boys are not generally subject to any
-severe corporal chastisement, though a few cases of ill-treatment
-occasionally occur. 'A few months ago an adult workman broke
-a boy's arm by a blow with a piece of iron; the boy went to school
-till his arm got well; his father and mother thought it a good
-opportunity to give him some schooling.'"—Ibid. <i>Evidence</i>, No.
-331.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But the class of children in this district the most abused and
-oppressed are the apprentices, and particularly those who are
-bound to the small masters among the locksmiths, key and bolt
-makers, screwmakers, &c. Even among these small masters,
-there are respectable and humane men, who do not suffer any
-degree of poverty to render them brutal; but many of these men
-treat their apprentices not so much with neglect and harshness,
-as with ferocious violence, the result of unbridled passions, excited
-often by ardent spirits, acting on bodies exhausted by over-work,
-and on minds which have never received the slightest moral
-or religious culture, and which, therefore, never exercise the
-smallest moral or religious restraint."—Ibid.</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Evidence from all classes,—masters, journeymen, residents,
-magistrates, clergymen, constables, and, above
-all, from the mouths of the poor oppressed sufferers
-themselves, is adduced to a heart-breaking extent. The
-public has been excited to pity by Dickens's picture of
-Smike—in Willenhall, there are many Smikes.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged sixteen: 'His master stints him from six in
-the morning till ten and sometimes eleven at night, as much as
-ever he can do; and if he don't do it, his master gives him no
-supper, and gives him a good hiding, sometimes with a big strap,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
-sometimes with a big stick. His master has cut his head open five
-times—once with a key and twice with a lock; knocked the corner
-of a lock into his head twice—once with an iron bolt, and
-once with an iron shut—a thing that runs into the staple. His
-master's name is —— ——, of Little London. There is another
-apprentice besides him, who is treated just as bad.'"—Ibid. p.
-32, 1. 4.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged fifteen: 'Works at knob-locks with —— ——.
-Is a fellow-apprentice with —— ——. Lives in the house of his
-master. Is beaten by his master, who hits him sometimes with
-his fists, and sometimes with the file-haft, and sometimes with a
-stick—it's no matter what when he's a bit cross; sometimes hits
-him with the locks; has cut his head open four or five times; so
-he has his fellow apprentice's head. Once when he cut his head
-open with a key, thinks half a pint of blood run off him.'"—Ibid.
-p. 32, 1. 19.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged fourteen: 'Has been an in-door apprentice
-three years. Has no wages; nobody gets any wages for him.
-Has to serve till he is twenty-one. His master behaves very bad.
-His mistress behaves worse, like a devil; she beats him; knocks
-his head against the wall. His master goes out a-drinking, and
-when he comes back, if any thing's gone wrong that he (the boy)
-knows nothing about, he is beat all the same.'"—Ibid. p. 32, 1. 36.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged sixteen: 'His master sometimes hits him
-with his fist, sometimes kicks him; gave him the black eye he
-has got; beat him in bed while he was asleep, at five in the
-morning, because he was not up to work. He came up-stairs
-and set about him—set about him with his fist. Has been over
-to the public office, Brummagem, to complain; took a note with
-him, which was written for him; his brother gave it to the public
-office there, but they would not attend to it; they said they
-could do no good, and gave the note back. He had been beaten
-at that time with a whip-handle—it made wales all down his arms
-and back and all; everybody he showed it to said it was scandalous.
-Wishes he could be released from his master, who's never
-easy but when he's a-beating of me. Never has enough to eat at
-no time; ax him for more, he won't gie it me.'"—Ibid. p. 30, 1. 5.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged seventeen: 'Has no father or mother to take
-his part. His master once cut his head open with a flat file-haft,
-and used to pull his ears nearly off; they bled so he was obliged to
-go into the house to wipe them with a cloth,'"—Ibid. p. 37, 1. 7.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged fifteen: 'The neighbours who live agen the
-shop will say how his master beats him; beats him with a strap,
-and sometimes a nut-stick; sometimes the wales remain upon
-him for a week; his master once cut his eyelid open, cut a hole
-in it, and it bled all over his files that he was working with,'"—Ibid.
-p. 37, 1. 47.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged 18: 'His master once ran at him with a
-hammer, and drove the iron-head of the hammer into his side—he
-felt it for weeks; his master often knocks him down on the
-shop-floor; he can't tell what it's all for, no more than you can;
-don't know what it can be for unless it's this, his master thinks
-he don't do enough work for him. When he is beaten, his master
-does not lay it on very heavy, as some masters do, only beats him
-for five minutes at a time; should think that was enough,
-though.'"—<i>Horne, Evidence</i>, p. 37, 1. 57.</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">All this exists in a Christian land! Surely telescopic
-philanthropists must be numerous in Great Britain.
-Wonderful to relate, there are many persons instrumental
-in sustaining this barbarous system, who profess
-a holy horror of slavery, and who seldom rise up
-or lie down without offering prayers on behalf of the
-African bondsmen, thousands of miles away. Verily,
-there are many people in this motley world so organized
-that they can scent corruption "afar off," but gain no
-knowledge of the foulness under their very noses.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Henry Mayhew, in his "London Labour and the
-London Poor," gives some very interesting information
-in regard to the workshops in the great metropolis of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
-the British Empire. "In the generality of trades, the
-calculation is that one-third of the hands are fully employed,
-one-third partially, and one-third unemployed
-throughout the year." The wages of those who are
-regularly employed being scant, what must be the condition
-of those whose employment is but casual and precarious?
-Mayhew says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The hours of labour in mechanical callings are usually twelve,
-two of them devoted to meals, or seventy-two hours (less by the
-permitted intervals) in a week. In the course of my inquiries for
-the <i>Chronicle</i>, I met with slop cabinet-makers, tailors, and milliners,
-who worked sixteen hours and more daily, their toil being only
-interrupted by the necessity of going out, if small masters, to
-purchase materials, and offer the goods for sale; or, if journeymen
-in the slop trade, to obtain more work and carry what was
-completed to the master's shop. They worked on Sundays also;
-one tailor told me that the coat he worked at on the previous
-Sunday was for the Rev. Mr. ——, who 'little thought it,' and
-these slop-workers rarely give above a few minutes to a meal.
-Thus they toil forty hours beyond the hours usual in an honourable
-trade, (112 hours instead of 72,) in the course of a week, or
-between three and four days of the regular hours of work of the
-six working days. In other words, two such men will in less
-than a week accomplish work which should occupy three men a
-full week; or 1000 men will execute labour fairly calculated to
-employ 1500 at the least. A paucity of employment is thus
-caused among the general body, by this system of over-labour
-decreasing the share of work accruing to the several operatives,
-and so adding to surplus hands.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Of over-work, as regards excessive labour, both in the general
-and fancy cabinet trade, I heard the following accounts, which
-different operatives concurred in giving; while some represented
-the labour as of longer duration by at least an hour, and some
-by two hours a day, than I have stated.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The labour of the men who depend entirely on 'the slaughter-houses'
-for the purchase of their articles is usually seven
-days a week the year through. That is, seven days—for Sunday-work
-is all but universal—each of thirteen hours, or ninety-one
-hours in all; while the established hours of labour in the
-'honourable trade' are six days of the week, each of ten hours,
-or sixty hours in all. Thus fifty per cent. is added to the extent
-of the production of low-priced cabinet work, merely from 'over-hours';
-but in some cases I heard of fifteen hours for seven days
-in the week, or 105 hours in all.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Concerning the hours of labour in this trade, I had the following
-minute particulars from a garret-master who was a chair-maker:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I work from six every morning to nine at night; some work
-till ten. My breakfast at eight stops me for ten minutes. I can
-breakfast in less time, but it's a rest. My dinner takes me say
-twenty minutes at the outside; and my tea eight minutes. All
-the rest of the time I'm slaving at my bench. How many
-minutes' rest is that, sir? Thirty-eight; well, say three-quarters
-of an hour, and that allows a few sucks at a pipe when I rest;
-but I can smoke and work too. I have only one room to work
-and eat in, or I should lose more time. Altogether, I labour
-fourteen and a quarter hours every day, and I must work on Sundays—at
-least forty Sundays in the year. One may as well work
-as sit fretting. But on Sundays I only work till it's dusk, or till
-five or six in summer. When it's dusk I take a walk. I'm not
-well dressed enough for a Sunday walk when it's light, and I
-can't wear my apron on that day very well to hide patches. But
-there's eight hours that I reckon I take up every week, one with
-another, in dancing about to the slaughterers. I'm satisfied that
-I work very nearly 100 hours a week the year through; deducting
-the time taken up by the slaughterers, and buying stuff—say
-eight hours a week—it gives more than ninety hours a week for
-my work, and there's hundreds labour as hard as I do, just for a
-crust.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The East-end turners generally, I was informed, when inquiring
-into the state of that trade, labour at the lathe from six
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>
-o'clock in the morning till eleven and twelve at night, being
-eighteen hours' work per day, or one hundred and eight hours per
-week. They allow themselves two hours for their meals. It
-takes them, upon an average, two hours more every day fetching
-and carrying their work home. Some of the East-end men work
-on Sundays, and not a few either,' said my informant. 'Sometimes
-I have worked hard,' said one man, 'from six one morning
-till four the next, and scarcely had any time to take my meals in
-the bargain. I have been almost suffocated with the dust flying
-down my throat after working so many hours upon such heavy
-work too, and sweating so much. It makes a man drink where
-he would not.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"This system of over-work exists in the 'slop' part of almost
-every business; indeed, it is the principal means by which the
-cheap trade is maintained. Let me cite from my letters in the
-<i>Chronicle</i> some more of my experience on this subject. As
-regards the London mantuamakers, I said:—'The workwomen
-for good shops that give fair, or tolerably fair wages, and expect
-good work, can make six average-sized mantles in a week, <i>working
-from ten to twelve hours a day</i>; but the slop-workers by toiling
-from thirteen to sixteen hours a day, will make <i>nine</i> such sized
-mantles in a week. In a season of twelve weeks, 1000 workers
-for the slop-houses and warehouses would at this rate make
-108,000 mantles, or 36,000 more than workers for the fair trade.
-Or, to put it in another light, these slop-women, by being compelled,
-in order to live, to work such over-hours as inflict lasting
-injury on the health, supplant, by their over-work and over-hours,
-the labour of 500 hands, working the regular hours."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Mayhew states it as a plain, unerring law, that
-"over-work makes under-pay, and under-pay makes
-over-work." True; but under-pay in the first place
-gave rise to prolonged hours of toil; and in spite of all
-laws that may be enacted, as long as a miserable pittance
-is paid to labourers, and that, too, devoured by
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
-taxes, supporting an aristocracy in luxury, so long will
-the workman be compelled to slave for a subsistence.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The "strapping" system, which demands an undue
-quantity of work from a journeyman in the course of a
-day, is extensively maintained in London. Mr. Mayhew
-met with a miserable victim of this system of
-slavery, who appeared almost exhausted with excessive
-toil. The poor fellow said—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'I work in what is called a strapping-shop, and have worked
-at nothing else for these many years past in London. I call
-"strapping" doing as much work as a human being or a horse
-possibly can in a day, and that without any hanging upon the
-collar, but with the foreman's eyes constantly fixed upon you,
-from six o'clock in the morning to six o'clock at night. The shop
-in which I work is for all the world like a prison; the silent system
-is as strictly carried out there as in a model jail. If a man
-was to ask any common question of his neighbour, except it was
-connected with his trade, he would be discharged there and then.
-If a journeyman makes the least mistake he is packed off just the
-same. A man working at such places is almost always in fear;
-for the most trifling things he's thrown out of work in an instant.
-And then the quantity of work that one is forced to get through
-is positively awful; if he can't do a plenty of it he don't stop
-long where I am. No one would think it was possible to get so
-much out of blood and bones. No slaves work like we do. At
-some of the strapping shops the foreman keeps continually walking
-about with his eyes on all the men at once. At others the
-foreman is perched high up, so that he can have the whole of the
-men under his eye together. I suppose since I knew the trade
-that a <i>man does four times the work that he did formerly</i>. I know
-a man that's done four pairs of sashes in a day, and one is considered
-to be a good day's labour. What's worse than all, the
-men are every one striving one against the other. Each is trying
-to get through the work quicker than his neighbours. Four
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>
-or five men are set the same job, so that they may be all pitted
-against one another, and then away they go, every one striving
-his hardest for fear that the others should get finished first.
-They are all tearing along, from the first thing in the morning to
-the last at night, as hard as they can go, and when the time
-comes to knock off they are ready to drop. It was hours after I
-got home last night before I could get a wink of sleep; the soles
-of my feet were on fire, and my arms ached to that degree that I
-could hardly lift my hand to my head. Often, too, when we get
-up of a morning, we are more tired than when we went to bed,
-for we can't sleep many a night; but we musn't let our employers
-know it, or else they'd be certain we couldn't do enough
-for them, and we'd get the sack. So, tired as we may be, we are
-obliged to look lively, somehow or other, at the shop of a morning.
-If we're not beside our bench the very moment the bell's
-done ringing, our time's docked—they won't give us a single
-minute out of the hour. If I was working for a fair master, I
-should do nearly one-third, and sometimes a half, less work than
-I am now forced to get through; and, even to manage that much,
-I shouldn't be idle a second of my time. It's quite a mystery to
-me how they <i>do</i> contrive to get so much work out of the men.
-But they are very clever people. They know how to have the
-most out of a man, better than any one in the world. They are
-all picked men in the shop—regular "strappers," and no mistake.
-The most of them are five foot ten, and fine broad-shouldered,
-strong-backed fellows too—if they weren't they wouldn't
-have them. Bless you, they make no words with the men, they
-sack them if they're not strong enough to do all they want; and
-they can pretty soon tell, the very first shaving a man strikes in
-the shop, what a chap is made of. Some men are done up at
-such work—quite old men and gray, with spectacles on, by the
-time they are forty. I have seen fine strong men, of thirty-six,
-come in there, and be bent double in two or three years. They
-are most all countrymen at the strapping shops. If they see a
-great strapping fellow, who they think has got some stuff about
-him that will come out, they will give him a job directly. We
-are used for all the world like cab or omnibus-horses. Directly
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
-they've had all the work out of us, we are turned off, and I am
-sure, after my day's work is over, my feelings must be very much
-the same as one of the London cab-horses. As for Sunday, it is
-<i>literally</i> a day of rest with us, for the greater part of us lay a-bed
-all day, and even that will hardly take the aches and pains out
-of our bones and muscles. When I'm done and flung by, of
-course I must starve.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">It may be said that, exhausting as this labour certainly
-is, it is not slavery; for the workman has a will of his
-own, and need not work if he does not choose to do it.
-Besides, he is not held by law; he may leave the shop;
-he may seek some other land. These circumstances
-make his case very different from the negro slave of
-America. True, but the difference is in favour of the
-negro slave. The London workman has only the alternative—such
-labour as has been described, the workhouse,
-or starvation. The negro slave seldom has such
-grinding toil, is provided for whether he performs it or
-not, and can look forward to an old age of comfort and
-repose. The London workman may leave his shop, but
-he will be either consigned to the prison of a workhouse
-or starved. He might leave the country, if he could
-obtain the necessary funds.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Family work, or the conjoint labour of a workman's
-wife and children, is one of the results of the wretchedly
-rewarded slavery in the various trades. Mr Mayhew
-gives the following statement of a "fancy cabinet"
-worker upon this subject:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The most on us has got large families; we put the children
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
-to work as soon as we can. My little girl began about six, but
-about eight or nine is the usual age. 'Oh, poor little things,' said
-the wife, 'they are obliged to begin the very minute they can use
-their fingers at all.' The most of the cabinet-makers of the East
-end have from five to six in family, and they are generally all at
-work for them. The small masters mostly marry when they are
-turned of twenty. You see our trade's coming to such a pass,
-that unless a man has children to help him he can't live at all.
-I've worked more than a month together, and the longest night's
-rest I've had has been an hour and a quarter; ay, and I've been
-up three nights a week besides. I've had my children lying ill,
-and been obliged to wait on them into the bargain. You see we
-couldn't live if it wasn't for the labour of our children, though it
-makes 'em—poor little things!—old people long afore they are
-growed up.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Why, I stood at this bench,' said the wife, 'with my child,
-only ten years of age, from four o'clock on Friday morning till
-ten minutes past seven in the evening, without a bit to eat or
-drink. I never sat down a minute from the time I began till I
-finished my work, and then I went out to sell what I had done.
-I walked all the way from here [Shoreditch] down to the Lowther
-Arcade to get rid of the articles.' Here she burst out into a
-violent flood of tears, saying, 'Oh, sir, it is hard to be obliged to
-labour from morning till night as we do, all of us, little ones and
-all, and yet not be able to live by it either.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And you see the worst of it is, this here children's labour is of
-such value now in our trade, that there's more brought into the
-business every year, so that it's really for all the world <i>like breeding
-slaves</i>. Without my children I don't know how we should be
-able to get along.' 'There's that little thing,' said the man, pointing
-to the girl ten years of age, before alluded to, as she sat at
-the edge of the bed, 'why she works regularly every day from
-six in the morning till ten at night. She never goes to school;
-we can't spare her. There's schools enough about here for a
-penny a week, but we could not afford to keep her without working.
-If I'd ten more children I should be obliged to employ them
-all the same way, and there's hundreds and thousands of children
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>
-now slaving at this business. There's the M——'s; they have a
-family of eight, and the youngest to the oldest of all works at the
-bench; and the oldest a'n't fourteen. I'm sure, of the two thousand
-five hundred small masters in the cabinet line, you may
-safely say that two thousand of them, at the very least, have from
-five to six in family, and that's upward of twelve thousand children
-that's been put to the trade since prices have come down.
-Twenty years ago I don't think there was a child at work in our
-business; and I am sure there is not a small master now whose
-whole family doesn't assist him. But what I want to know is,
-what's to become of the twelve thousand children when they're
-growed up and come regular into the trade? Here are all my
-ones growing up without being taught any thing but a business
-that I know they must starve at.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In answer to my inquiry as to what dependence he had in
-case of sickness, 'Oh, bless you,' he said, 'there's nothing but the
-parish for us. I <i>did</i> belong to a benefit society about four years
-ago, but I couldn't keep up my payments any longer. I was in
-the society above five-and-twenty years, and then was obliged to
-leave it after all. I don't know of one as belongs to any friendly
-society, and I don't think there is a man as can afford it in our
-trade now. They must all go to the workhouse when they're sick
-or old.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The "trading operatives," or those labourers who employ
-subordinate and cheaper work-people, are much
-decried in England; but they, also, are the creations
-of the general system. A workman frequently ascertains
-that he can make more money with less labour, by
-employing women or children at home, than if he did
-all of his own work; and very often men are driven to
-this resource to save themselves from being worked to
-death. The condition of those persons who work for
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>
-the "trading operatives," or "middlemen," is as miserable
-as imagination may conceive.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Charles Kingsley's popular novel, "Alton Locke,"
-we find a vivid and truthful picture of the London tailor's
-workshop, and the slavery of the workmen, which may
-be quoted here in illustration:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"I stumbled after Mr. Jones up a dark, narrow iron staircase,
-till we emerged through a trap-door into a garret at the top of
-the house. I recoiled with disgust at the scene before me; and
-here I was to work—perhaps through life! A low lean-to room,
-stifling me with the combined odours of human breath and perspiration,
-stale beer, the sweet sickly smell of gin, and the sour
-and hardly less disgusting one of new cloth. On the floor, thick
-with dust and dirt, scraps of stuff and ends of thread, sat some
-dozen haggard, untidy, shoeless men, with a mingled look of care
-and recklessness that made me shudder. The windows were
-tight closed to keep out the cold winter air; and the condensed
-breath ran in streams down the panes, checkering the dreary outlook
-of chimney-tops and smoke. The conductor handed me over
-to one of the men.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Here Crossthwaite, take this younker and make a tailor of
-him. Keep him next you, and prick him up with your needle if
-he shirks.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"He disappeared down the trap-door, and mechanically, as if
-in a dream, I sat down by the man and listened to his instructions,
-kindly enough bestowed. But I did not remain in peace
-two minutes. A burst of chatter rose as the foreman vanished,
-and a tall, bloated, sharp-nosed young man next me bawled in
-my ear—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I say, young 'un, fork out the tin and pay your footing at
-Conscrumption Hospital!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What do you mean?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'An't he just green?—Down with the stumpy—a tizzy for a
-pot of half-and-half.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I never drink beer.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Then never do,' whispered the man at my side; 'as sure as
-hell's hell, it's your only chance.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There was a fierce, deep earnestness in the tone, which made
-me look up at the speaker, but the other instantly chimed in.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Oh, yer don't, don't yer, my young Father Mathy! then
-yer'll soon learn it here if yer want to keep your victuals down.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And I have promised to take my wages home to my mother.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Oh criminy! hark to that, my coves! here's a chap as is
-going to take the blunt home to his mammy.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Ta'nt much of it the old un'll see,' said another. 'Ven yer
-pockets it at the Cock and Bottle, my kiddy, yer won't find much
-of it left o' Sunday mornings.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Don't his mother know he's out?' asked another; 'and won't
-she know it—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Ven he's sitting in his glory</span>
- </div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Half-price at the Vic-tory.</span></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Oh no, ve never mentions her—her name is never heard. Certainly
-not, by no means. Why should it?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well, if yer won't stand a pot,' quoth the tall man, 'I will,
-that's all, and blow temperance. 'A short life and a merry one,'
-says the tailor—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">The ministers talk a great deal
- about port,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-2"><span style="font-size:larger;">And they makes Cape wine
- very dear,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">But blow their hi's if ever they
- tries</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-2"><span style="font-size:larger;">To deprive a poor cove of
- his beer.</span></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p>Here, Sam, run to the Cock and Bottle for a pot of half-and-half
-to my score.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"A thin, pale lad jumped up and vanished, while my tormentor
-turned to me:</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I say, young 'un, do you know why we're nearer heaven here
-than our neighbours?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I shouldn't have thought so,' answered I with a <i>naïveté</i> which
-raised a laugh, and dashed the tall man for a moment.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yer don't? then I'll tell yer. Acause we're atop of the
-house in the first place, and next place yer'll die here six months
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>
-sooner nor if yer worked in the room below. A'n't that logic and
-science, Orator?' appealing to Crossthwaite.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Why?' asked I.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Acause you get all the other floors' stinks up here, as well
-as your own. Concentrated essence of man's flesh, is this here
-as you're a-breathing. Cellar work-room we calls Rheumatic
-Ward, because of the damp. Ground-floor's, Fever Ward—them
-as don't get typhus gets dysentery, and them as don't get dysentery
-gets typhus—your nose 'd tell yer why if you opened the
-back windy. First floor's Ashmy Ward—don't you hear 'um
-now through the cracks in the boards, a-puffing away like a nest
-of young locomotives? And this here more august and upper-crust
-cockloft is the Conscrumptive Hospital. First you begins
-to cough, then you proceed to expectorate—spittoons, as you see,
-perwided free gracious for nothing—fined a kivarten if you
-spits on the floor—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Then your cheeks they grow red, and
- your nose it grows thin,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">And your bones they sticks out, till
- they comes through your skin:</span></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p>and then, when you've sufficiently covered the poor dear shivering
-bare backs of the hairystocracy,</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Die, die, die,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Away you fly,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Your soul is in the sky!</span></div>
-</div></div>
-
-<p>as the hinspired Shakspeare wittily remarks.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"And the ribald lay down on his back, stretched himself out,
-and pretended to die in a fit of coughing, which last was alas!
-no counterfeit, while poor I, shocked and bewildered, let my tears
-fall fast upon my knees.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Fine him a pot!' roared one, 'for talking about kicking the
-bucket. He's a nice young man to keep a cove's spirits up, and
-talk about "a short life and a merry one." Here comes the heavy.
-Hand it here to take the taste of that fellow's talk out of my
-mouth.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well, my young 'un,' recommenced my tormentor, 'and
-how do you like your company?'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Leave the boy alone,' growled Crossthwaite: 'don't you see
-he's crying?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Is that any thing good to eat? Give me some on it, if it is—it'll
-save me washing my face.' And he took hold of my hair
-and pulled my head back.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I'll tell you what, Jemmy Downes,' said Crossthwaite, in a
-voice that made him draw back, 'if you don't drop that, I'll give
-you such a taste of my tongue as shall turn you blue.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You'd better try it on, then. Do—only just now—if you
-please.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Be quiet, you fool!' said another. 'You're a pretty fellow
-to chaff the orator. He'll slang you up the chimney afore you
-can get your shoes on.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Fine him a kivarten for quarrelling,' cried another; and the
-bully subsided into a minute's silence, after a <i>sotto voce</i>—'Blow
-temperance, and blow all Chartists, say I!' and then delivered
-himself of his feelings in a doggrel song:</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Some folks leads coves a dance,
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With their pledge of temperance,
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-7"><span style="font-size:larger;">And their plans for donkey
- sociation;</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">And their pocket-fulls they crams
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">By their patriotic flams,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-7"><span style="font-size:larger;">And then swears 'tis for the
- good of the nation.</span></div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">But I don't care two inions</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">For political opinions,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-7"><span style="font-size:larger;">While I can stand my heavy and
- my quartern;</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">For to drown dull care within,
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">In baccy, beer, and gin,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-7"><span style="font-size:larger;">Is the prime of a
- working-tailor's fortin!</span></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">"'There's common sense for you now; hand the pot here.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I recollect nothing more of that day, except that I bent myself
-to my work with assiduity enough to earn praises from Crossthwaite.
-It was to be done, and I did it. The only virtue I ever
-possessed (if virtue it be) is the power of absorbing my whole
-heart and mind in the pursuit of the moment, however dull or
-trivial, if there be good reason why it should be pursued at all.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"I owe, too, an apology to my readers for introducing all this
-ribaldry. God knows it is as little to my taste as it can be to theirs,
-but the thing exists; and those who live, if not by, yet still beside
-such a state of things, ought to know what the men are like,
-to whose labour, ay, life-blood, they owe their luxuries. They
-are 'their brothers' keepers,' let them deny it as they will."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">As a relief from misery, the wretched workmen generally
-resort to intoxicating liquors, which, however,
-ultimately render them a hundredfold more miserable.
-In "Alton Locke," this is illustrated with an almost
-fearful power, in the life and death of the tailor Downes.
-After saving the wretched man from throwing himself
-into the river, Alton Locke accompanies him to a disgusting
-dwelling, in Bermondsey. The story continues:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"He stopped at the end of a miserable blind alley, where a
-dirty gas-lamp just served to make darkness visible, and show the
-patched windows and rickety doorways of the crazy houses,
-whose upper stories were lost in a brooding cloud of fog; and the
-pools of stagnant water at our feet: and the huge heap of cinders
-which filled up the waste end of the alley—a dreary black, formless
-mound, on which two or three spectral dogs prowled up and
-down after the offal, appearing and vanishing like dark imps in
-and out of the black misty chaos beyond.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The neighbourhood was undergoing, as it seemed, 'improvements,'
-of that peculiar metropolitan species which consists in
-pulling down the dwellings of the poor, and building up rich
-men's houses instead; and great buildings, within high temporary
-palings, had already eaten up half the little houses; as the
-great fish and the great estates, and the great shopkeepers, eat
-up the little ones of their species—by the law of competition,
-lately discovered to be the true creator and preserver of the universe.
-There they loomed up, the tall bullies, against the dreary
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>
-sky, looking down with their grim, proud, stony visages, on the
-misery which they were driving out of one corner, only to accumulate
-and intensify it in another.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The house at which we stopped was the last in the row; all
-its companions had been pulled down; and there it stood, leaning
-out with one naked ugly side into the gap, and stretching out
-long props, like feeble arms and crutches, to resist the work of
-demolition.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"A group of slatternly people were in the entry, talking loudly,
-and as Downes pushed by them, a woman seized him by the arm.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Oh! you unnatural villain!—To go away after your drink,
-and leave all them poor dead corpses locked up, without even
-letting a body go in to stretch them out!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And breeding the fever, too, to poison the whole house!'
-growled one.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The relieving-officer's been here, my cove,' said another; 'and
-he's gone for a peeler and a search-warrant to break open the
-door, I can tell you!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But Downes pushed past unheeding, unlocked a door at the
-end of the passage, thrust me in, locked it again, and then rushed
-across the room in chase of two or three rats, who vanished into
-cracks and holes.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"And what a room! A low lean-to with wooden walls, without
-a single article of furniture; and through the broad chinks of the
-floor shone up as it were ugly glaring eyes, staring at us. They
-were the reflections of the rushlight in the sewer below. The
-stench was frightful—the air heavy with pestilence. The first
-breath I drew made my heart sink, and my stomach turn. But
-I forgot every thing in the object which lay before me, as Downes
-tore a half-finished coat off three corpses laid side by side on the
-bare floor.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There was his little Irish wife;—dead—and naked—the
-wasted white limbs gleamed in the lurid light; the unclosed eyes
-stared, as if reproachfully, at the husband whose drunkenness
-had brought her there to kill her with the pestilence; and on
-each side of her a little, shrivelled, impish, child-corpse—the
-wretched man had laid their arms round the dead mother's neck—and
-there they slept, their hungering and wailing over at last
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>
-for ever: the rats had been busy already with them—but what
-matter to them now?</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Look!' he cried; 'I watched 'em dying! Day after day I
-saw the devils come up through the cracks, like little maggots
-and beetles, and all manner of ugly things, creeping down their
-throats; and I asked 'em, and they said they were the fever
-devils.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It was too true; the poisonous exhalations had killed them.
-The wretched man's delirium tremens had given that horrible
-substantiality to the poisonous fever gases.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Suddenly Downes turned on me almost menacingly. 'Money!
-money! I want some gin!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I was thoroughly terrified—and there was no shame in feeling
-fear, locked up with a madman far my superior in size and
-strength, in so ghastly a place. But the shame, and the folly
-too, would have been in giving way to my fear; and with a boldness
-half assumed, half the real fruit of excitement and indignation
-at the horrors I beheld, I answered—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'If I had money, I would give you none. What do you want
-with gin? Look at the fruits of your accursed tippling. If you
-had taken my advice, my poor fellow,' I went on, gaining courage
-as I spoke, 'and become a water-drinker, like me'——</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Curse you and your water-drinking! If you had had no
-water to drink or wash with for two years but that—that,' pointing
-to the foul ditch below—'If you had emptied the slops in
-there with one hand, and filled your kettle with the other'——</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Do you actually mean that that sewer is your only drinking
-water?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Where else can we get any? Everybody drinks it; and you
-shall too—you shall!' he cried, with a fearful oath, 'and then see
-if you don't run off to the gin-shop, to take the taste of it out of
-your mouth. Drink! and who can help drinking, with his
-stomach turned with such hell-broth as that—or such a hell's
-blast as this air is here, ready to vomit from morning till night
-with the smells? I'll show you. You shall drink a bucket-full
-of it, as sure as you live, you shall.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"And he ran out of the back door, upon a little balcony, which
-hung over the ditch.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"I tried the door, but the key was gone, and the handle too.
-I beat furiously on it, and called for help. Two gruff authoritative
-voices were heard in the passage.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Let us in; I'm the policeman!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Let me out, or mischief will happen!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The policeman made a vigorous thrust at the crazy door; and
-just as it burst open, and the light of his lantern streamed into
-the horrible den, a heavy splash was heard outside.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'He has fallen into the ditch!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'He'll be drowned, then, as sure as he's a born man,' shouted
-one of the crowd behind.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"We rushed out on the balcony. The light of the policeman's
-lantern glared over the ghastly scene—along the double row of
-miserable house-backs, which lined the sides of the open tidal
-ditch—over strange rambling jetties, and balconies, and sleeping
-sheds, which hung on rotting piles over the black waters, with
-phosphorescent scraps of rotten fish gleaming and twinkling out
-of the dark hollows, like devilish gravelights—over bubbles of
-poisonous gas, and bloated carcases of dogs, and lumps of offal,
-floating on the stagnant olive-green hell-broth—over the slow sullen
-rows of oily ripple which were dying away into the darkness
-far beyond, sending up, as they stirred, hot breaths of miasma—the
-only sign that a spark of humanity, after years of foul life,
-had quenched itself at last in that foul death. I almost fancied
-that I could see the haggard face staring up at me through the
-slimy water; but no—it was as opaque as stone."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Downes had been a "sweater," and before his death
-was a "sweater's slave."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">When the comparatively respectable workshop in
-which Alton Locke laboured was broken up, and the
-workmen were told by the heartless employer that he
-intended to give out work, for those who could labour
-at home, these toil-worn men held a meeting, at which
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>
-a man named John Crossthwaite, thus spoke for his
-oppressed and degraded class:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"We were all bound to expect this. Every working tailor must
-come to this at last, on the present system; and we are only
-lucky in having been spared so long. You all know where this
-will end—in the same misery as fifteen thousand out of twenty
-thousand of our class are enduring now. We shall become the
-slaves, often the bodily prisoners, of Jews, middlemen, and sweaters,
-who draw their livelihood out of our starvation. We shall
-have to face, as the rest have, ever-decreasing prices of labour,
-ever-increasing profits made out of that labour by the contractors
-who will employ us—arbitrary fines, inflicted at the caprice of
-hirelings—the competition of women, and children, and starving
-Irish—our hours of work will increase one-third, our actual pay
-decrease to less than one-half; and in all this we shall have no
-hope, no chance of improvement in wages, but ever more penury,
-slavery, misery, as we are pressed on by those who are sucked by
-fifties—almost by hundreds—yearly, out of the honourable trade
-in which we were brought up, into the infernal system of contract
-work, which is devouring our trade and many others, body
-and soul. Our wives will be forced to sit up night and day to
-help us—our children must labour from the cradle, without chance
-of going to school, hardly of breathing the fresh air of heaven—our
-boys as they grow up must turn beggars or paupers—our
-daughters, as thousands do, must eke out their miserable earnings
-by prostitution. And, after all, a whole family will not gain
-what one of us had been doing, as yet, single-handed. You know
-there will be no hope for us. There is no use appealing to government
-or Parliament. I don't want to talk politics here. I
-shall keep them for another place. But you can recollect as well
-as I can, when a deputation of us went up to a member of Parliament—one
-that was reputed a philosopher, and a political economist,
-and a liberal—and set before him the ever-increasing penury
-and misery of our trade and of those connected with it; you recollect
-his answer—that, however glad he would be to help us, it
-was impossible—he could not alter the laws of nature—that
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>
-wages were regulated by the amount of competition among the
-men themselves, and that it was no business of government, or
-any one else, to interfere in contracts between the employer and
-employed, that those things regulated themselves by the laws of
-political economy, which it was madness and suicide to oppose.
-He may have been a wise man. I only know that he was a rich
-one. Every one speaks well of the bridge which carries him over.
-Every one fancies the laws which fill his pockets to be God's laws.
-But I say this: If neither government nor members of Parliament
-can help us, we must help ourselves. Help yourselves, and Heaven
-will help you. Combination among ourselves is the only
-chance. One thing we can do—sit still.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And starve!' said some one."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Crossthwaite is represented as having preferred to
-endure want rather than work under the sweating system.
-But there are few men who possess such spirit
-and determination. Men with families are compelled,
-by considering those who are dependent upon them, to
-work for whatever prices the masters choose to pay.
-They are free labourers—if they do not choose to work—they
-are perfectly free—to starve!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The government took the initiative in the sweating
-system. It set the example by giving the army and
-navy clothes to contractors, and taking the lowest
-tenders. The police clothes, the postmen's clothes, the
-convict's clothes, are all contracted for by sweaters and
-sub-sweaters, till government work is the very last,
-lowest resource to which a poor, starved-out wretch
-betakes himself, to keep body and soul together. Thus
-is profit made from the pauperism of men, the slavery of
-children, and the prostitution of women, in Great Britain.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Some years ago the following announcement appeared
-in the Village Gazette:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Peter Moreau and his wife are dead, aged twenty-five years.
-Too much work has killed them and many besides. We say—Work
-like a negro, like a galley-slave: we ought to say—Work
-like a freeman."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Work like negro slaves, indeed! There is no such
-work in America, even among the slaves; all day long,
-from Monday morning till Saturday night, week after
-week, and year after year, till the machine is worn out.
-American slaves and convicts in New South Wales are
-fat and happy, compared with the labourers of England.
-It frequently happens that Englishmen commit crimes
-for the purpose of becoming galley-slaves in New South
-Wales. They do not keep their purpose secret; they
-declare it loudly with tears and passionate exclamations
-to the magistrate who commits them for trial, to the
-jury who try them, and to the judge who passes sentence
-on them. This is published in the newspapers,
-but so often that it excites no particular comment.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The parish apprentices are the worst-treated slaves
-in the world. They are at the mercy of their masters
-and mistresses during their term of apprenticeship,
-without protectors, and without appeal against the most
-cruel tyranny. In the reign of George III., one Elizabeth
-Brownrigg was hanged for beating and starving to
-death her parish apprentices. In 1831, another woman,
-Esther Hibner by name, was hanged in London for
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>
-beating and starving to death a parish apprentice. Two
-instances of punishment, for thousands of cases of impunity!</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The evidence in the case of Esther Hibner proved that a number
-of girls, pauper apprentices, were employed in a workshop;
-that their victuals consisted of garbage, commonly called hog's-wash,
-and that of this they never had enough to stay the pains
-of hunger; that they were kept half-naked, half-clothed in dirty
-rags; that they slept in a heap on the floor, amid filth and stench;
-that they suffered dreadfully from cold; that they were forced to
-work so many hours together that they used to fall asleep while
-at work; that for falling asleep, for not working as hard as their
-mistress wished, they were beaten with sticks, with fists, dragged
-by the hair, dashed on to the ground, trampled upon, and otherwise
-tortured; that they were found, all of them more or less,
-covered with chilblains, scurvy, bruises, and wounds; that one
-of them died of ill-treatment; and—mark this—that the discovery
-of that murder was made in consequence of the number of coffins
-which had issued from Esther Hibner's premises, and raised the
-curiosity of her neighbours. For this murder Mrs. Hibner was
-hanged; but what did she get for all the other murders which,
-referring to the number of coffins, we have a right to believe that
-she committed? She got for each £10. That is to say, whenever
-she had worked, starved, beaten, dashed and trampled a girl
-to death, she got another girl to treat in the same way, with £10
-for her trouble. She carried on a trade in the murder of parish
-apprentices; and if she had conducted it with moderation, if the
-profit and custom of murder had not made her grasping and careless,
-the constitution, which protects the poor as well as the rich,
-would never have interfered with her. The law did not permit
-her to do what she liked with her apprentices, as Americans do
-with their slaves; oh no. Those free-born English children were
-merely bound as apprentices, with their own consent, under the
-eye of the magistrate, in order that they might learn a trade and
-become valuable subjects. But did the magistrate ever visit Mrs.
-Hibner's factory to see how she treated the free-born English
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>
-girls? never. Did the parish officers? no. Was there any legal
-provision for the discovery of the woman's trade in murder?
-none."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"You still read on the gates of London poorhouses, 'strong,
-healthy boys and girls,' &c.; and boys or girls you may obtain
-by applying within, as many as you please, free-born, with the
-usual fee. Having been paid for taking them, and having gone
-through the ceremonies of asking their consent and signing bonds
-before a magistrate, you may make them into sausages, for any
-thing the constitution will do to prevent you. If it should be
-proved that you kill even one of them, you will be hanged; but
-you may half-starve them, beat them, torture them, any thing
-short of killing them, with perfect security; and using a little
-circumspection, you may kill them too, without much danger.
-Suppose they die, who cares? Their parents? they are orphans,
-or have been abandoned by their parents. The parish officers?
-very likely, indeed, that these, when the poorhouse is crammed
-with orphan and destitute children, should make inquiries troublesome
-to themselves; inquiries which, being troublesome to you,
-might deprive them of your custom in future. The magistrate?
-he asked the child whether it consented to be your apprentice;
-the child said 'Yes, your worship;' and there his worship's duty
-ends. The neighbours? of course, if you raise their curiosity like
-Esther Hibner, but not otherwise. In order to be quite safe, I
-tell you you must be a little circumspect. But let us suppose
-that you are timid, and would drive a good trade without the
-shadow of risk. In that case, half-starve your apprentices, cuff
-them, kick them, torment them till they run away from you.
-They will not go back to the poorhouse, because there they would
-be flogged for having run away from you: besides, the poorhouse
-is any thing but a pleasant place. The boys will turn beggars
-or thieves, and the girls prostitutes; you will have pocketed £10
-for each of them, and may get more boys and girls on the same
-terms, to treat in the same way. This trade is as safe as it is
-profitable."<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a></p></div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">THE WORKHOUSE SYSTEM OF BRITAIN.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> English writers generally point to the poor-laws
-of their country as a proud evidence of the merciful and
-benevolent character of the government. Look at those
-laws! so much have we done in the cause of humanity.
-See how much money we expend every year for the relief
-of the poor! Our workhouses are maintained at an
-enormous expense. Very well; but it takes somewhat
-from the character of the doctor, to ascertain that he
-gave the wound he makes a show of healing. What are
-the sources of the immense pauperism of Britain? The
-enormous monopoly of the soil, and the vast expense of
-civil and ecclesiastical aristocracy. The first takes work
-from one portion of the people, and the latter takes the
-profits of work from the other portion. The "glorious
-institutions" of Britain crowd the workhouses; and we
-are now going to show the horrible system under which
-paupers are held in these establishments.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The labouring classes are constantly exposed to the
-chance of going to the workhouse. Their wages are so
-low, or so preyed upon by taxes, that they have no
-opportunity of providing for a "rainy day." A few
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>
-weeks' sickness, a few weeks' absence of work, and,
-starvation staring them in the face, they are forced to
-apply to the parish authorities for relief. Once within
-the gate of the workhouse, many never entertain the
-idea of coming out until they are carried forth in their
-coffins.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Each parish has a workhouse, which is under the
-control of several guardians, who, again, are under the
-orders of a Board of Commissioners sitting at London.
-Many—perhaps a majority—of the guardians of the
-parishes are persons without those humane feelings
-which should belong to such officials, and numerous
-petty brutalities are added to those which are inherent
-in the British workhouse system.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Robert Southey says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"When the poor are incapable of contributing any longer to
-their own support, they are removed to what is called the workhouse.
-I cannot express to you the feelings of hopelessness and
-dread with which all the decent poor look on to this wretched
-termination of a life of labour. To this place all vagrants are
-sent for punishment; unmarried women with child go here to be
-delivered; and poor orphans and base-born children are brought
-up here until they are of age to be apprenticed off; the other inmates
-are of those unhappy people who are utterly helpless, parish
-idiots and madmen, the blind and the palsied, and the old who
-are fairly worn out. It is not in the nature of things that the
-superintendents of such institutions as these should be gentle-hearted,
-when the superintendence is undertaken merely for the
-sake of the salary. To this society of wretchedness the labouring
-poor of England look as their last resting-place on this side of the
-grave; and, rather than enter abodes so miserable, they endure
-the severest privations as long as it is possible to exist. A feeling
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>
-of honest pride makes them shrink from a place where guilt
-and poverty are confounded; and it is heart-breaking for those
-who have reared a family of their own to be subjected, in their
-old age, to the harsh and unfeeling authority of persons younger
-than themselves, neither better born nor better bred."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">This is no less true, than admirable as a specimen of
-prose. It was true when Southey penned it, and it is
-true now. Let us look at some of the provisions of the
-poor-laws of England, which form the much-lauded system
-of charity.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">One of these provisions refuses relief to those who
-will not accept that relief except in the character of
-inmates of the workhouse, and thus compels the poor
-applicants to either perish of want or tear asunder all
-the ties of home. To force the wretched father from
-the abode of his family, is a piece of cruelty at which
-every humane breast must revolt. What wonder that
-many perish for want of food, rather than leave all that
-is dear to them on earth? If they must die, they prefer
-to depart surrounded by affectionate relatives, rather
-than by callous "guardians of the poor," who calculate
-the trouble and the expense of the burial before the
-breath leaves the body. The framers of the poor-laws
-forgot—perchance—that, "Be it ever so humble, there's
-no place like home."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Another provision of the poor-laws denies the consolations
-of religion to those whose conscientious scruples
-will not allow them to worship according to the forms
-of the established church. This is totally at variance
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>
-with the spirit of true Christianity, and a most barbarous
-privation. One would think that British legislators
-doubted the supreme efficacy of the Christian faith in
-saving souls from destruction. Why should not the
-balm be applied, regardless of the formal ceremonies,
-if it possesses any healing virtues? But the glory of
-the English Church is its iron observance of forms;
-and, rather than relax one jot, it would permit the souls
-of millions to be swept away into the gloom of eternal
-night.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Then, there is the separation regulation, dragging
-after it a long train of horrors and heart-rending sufferings—violating
-the law of holy writ—"Whom God
-hath joined together, let no man put asunder"—and
-trampling upon the best feelings of human nature.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">A thrilling illustration of the operation of this law is
-narrated by Mr. James Grant.<a name="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> We quote:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Two persons, man and wife, of very advanced years, were at
-last, through the infirmities consequent on old age, rendered incapable
-of providing for themselves. Their friends were like
-themselves, poor; but, so long as they could, they afforded them
-all the assistance in their power. The infirmities of the aged
-couple became greater and greater; so, as a necessary consequence,
-did their wants. The guardians of the poor—their parish
-being under the operation of the new measure—refused to afford
-them the slightest relief. What was to be done? They had no
-alternative but starvation and the workhouse. To have gone to
-the workhouse, even had they been permitted to live together,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>
-could have been painful enough to their feelings; but to go there
-to be separated from each other, was a thought at which their
-hearts sickened. They had been married for nearly half a century;
-and during all that time had lived in the greatest harmony
-together. I am speaking the language of unexaggerated truth
-when I say, that their affection for each other increased, instead
-of suffering diminution, as they advanced in years. A purer or
-stronger attachment than theirs has never, perhaps, existed in a
-world in which there is so much of mutability as in ours. Many
-were the joys and many were the sorrows which they had equally
-shared with each other. Their joys were increased, because participated
-in by both: their sorrows were lessened, because of the
-consolations they assiduously administered to each other when
-the dispensations of Providence assumed a lowering aspect. The
-reverses they had experienced, in the course of their long and
-eventful union, had only served to attach them the more strongly
-to each other, just as the tempestuous blast only serves to cause
-the oak to strike its roots more deeply in the earth. With minds
-originally constituted alike, and that constitution being based on
-a virtuous foundation, it was, indeed, to be expected that the lapse
-of years would only tend to strengthen their attachment. Nothing,
-in a word, could have exceeded the ardour of their sympathy with
-each other. The only happiness which this world could afford
-them was derived from the circumstance of being in each other's
-company; and the one looked forward to the possibility of being
-left alone, when the other was snatched away by death, with feelings
-of the deepest pain and apprehension. Their wish was, in
-subordination to the will of the Supreme Being, that as they had
-been so long united in life, so in death they might not be divided.
-Their wish was in one sense realized, though not in the sense they
-had desired. The pressure of want, aggravated by the increasing
-infirmities of the female, imposed on her the necessity of repairing
-to the workhouse. The husband would most willingly have followed,
-had they been permitted to live together when there, in
-the hope that they should, even in that miserable place, be able
-to assuage each other's griefs, as they had so often done before.
-That was a permission, however, which was not to be granted to
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>
-them. The husband therefore determined that he would live on a
-morsel of bread and a draught of cold water, where he was, rather
-than submit to the degradation of a workhouse, in which he would
-be separated from her who had been the partner of his joys and
-griefs for upward of half a century. The hour of parting came;
-and a sad and sorrowful hour it was to the aged couple. Who
-shall describe their feelings on the occasion? Who can even
-enter into those feelings? No one. They could only be conceived
-by themselves. The process of separation was as full of
-anguish to their mental nature as is the severance of a limb from
-the body to the physical constitution. And that separation was
-aggravated by the circumstance, that both felt a presentiment, so
-strong as to have all the force of a thorough conviction, that their
-separation was to be final as regarded this world. What, then,
-must have been the agonies of the parting hour in the case of a
-couple whose mental powers were still unimpaired, and who had
-lived in the most perfect harmony for the protracted period of
-fifty years? They were, I repeat, not only such as admit of no
-description, but no one, who has not been similarly circumstanced,
-can even form an idea of them. The downcast look, the tender
-glances they emitted to each other, the swimming eye, the moist
-cheek, the deep-drawn sigh, the choked utterance, the affectionate
-embrace—all told, in the language of resistless eloquence, of the
-anguish caused by their separation. The scene was affecting in
-the extreme, even to the mere spectator. It was one which must
-have softened the hardest heart, as it drew tears from every eye
-which witnessed it; what, then, must the actual realization of it
-in all its power have been to the parties themselves? The separation
-did take place; the poor woman was wrenched from the
-almost death-like grasp of her husband. She was transferred to
-the workhouse; and he was left alone in the miserable hovel in
-which they had so long remained together. And what followed?
-What followed! That may be soon told: it is a short history.
-The former pined away, and died in three weeks after the
-separation; and the husband only survived three weeks more.
-Their parting was thus but for a short time, though final as
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>
-regarded this world. Ere six weeks had elapsed they again met
-together—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Met on that happy, happy
- shore,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Where friends do meet to part
- no more."</span></div>
- </div>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">Here was an outrage, shocking to every heart of ordinary
-sensibility, committed by authority of the British
-government, in due execution of its "charitable enactments."
-In searching for a parallel, we can only find it
-among those savage tribes who kill their aged and infirm
-brethren to save trouble and expense. Yet such actions
-are sanctioned by the government of a civilized nation,
-in the middle of the nineteenth century; and that, too,
-when the government is parading its philanthropy in
-the face of the world, and, pharisaically, thanking God
-that it is not as other nations are, authorizing sin and
-wrong.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">It was said by the advocates of this regulation of
-separation, that paupers themselves have no objection
-to be separated from each other; because, generally
-speaking, they have become old and unable to assist
-each other, before they throw themselves permanently
-on the parish—in other words, that the poor have not
-the same affection for relatives and friends that the
-wealthy have. Well, that argument was characteristic
-of a land where the fineness of a man's feelings are
-assumed to be exactly in proportion to the position of
-his ancestry and the length of his purse—perfectly in
-keeping, as an artist would say. A pauper husband
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
-and wife, after living together, perhaps for thirty years,
-become old and desire to be separated, according to the
-representations of the British aristocrat. His iron logic
-allows no hearts to the poor. To breathe is human—to
-feel is aristocratic.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Equally to be condemned is the regulation which
-prohibits the visits to the workhouse of the friends of
-the inmates. The only shadow of a reason for this is
-an alleged inconvenience attending the admission of
-those persons who are not inmates; and for such a reason
-the wife is prevented from seeing her husband, the
-children from seeing their father, and the poor heart-broken
-inmate from seeing a friend—perhaps the only
-one he has in the world. We might suppose that the
-authors of this regulation had discovered that adversity
-multiplies friends, instead of driving them away from
-its gloom. Paupers must be blessed beyond the rest
-of mankind in that respect. Instances are recorded
-in which dying paupers have been refused the consolation
-of a last visit from their children, under the operation
-of this outrageous law. Mr. James Grant mentions
-a case that came to his notice:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"An instance occurred a few months since in a workhouse in
-the suburbs of the metropolis, in which intelligence was accidentally
-conveyed to a daughter that her father was on his death-bed;
-she hurried that moment to the workhouse, but was refused
-admission. With tears in her eyes, and a heart that was ready
-to break, she pleaded the urgency of the case. The functionary
-was deaf to her entreaties; as soon might she have addressed
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
-them to the brick wall before her. His answer was, 'It is contrary
-to the regulations of the place; come again at a certain
-hour,' She applied to the medical gentleman who attended the
-workhouse, and through his exertions obtained admission. She
-flew to the ward in which her father was confined: he lay cold,
-motionless, and unconscious before her—his spirit was gone; he
-had breathed his last five minutes before. Well may we exclaim,
-when we hear of such things, 'Do we live in a Christian country?
-Is this a civilized land?'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Certainly, Mr. Grant, it is a land of freedom and philanthropy
-unknown upon the rest of the earth's surface.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">From a survey of the poor-laws it appears that
-poverty is considered criminal in Great Britain. The
-workhouses, which are declared to have been established
-for the relief of the poor, are worse than prisons for
-solitary confinement; for the visits of friends and the
-consolations of religion, except under particular forms,
-are denied to the unhappy inmates, while they are permitted
-to the criminal in his dungeon.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">What an English pauper is may be learned from the
-following description of the "bold peasantry," which
-we extract from one of the countless pamphlets on
-pauperism written by Englishmen.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"What is that defective being, with calfless legs and stooping
-shoulders, weak in body and mind, inert, pusillanimous and
-stupid, whose premature wrinkles and furtive glance tell of
-misery and degradation? That is an English peasant or pauper;
-for the words are synonymous. His sire was a pauper, and his
-mother's milk wanted nourishment. From infancy his food has
-been bad, as well as insufficient; and he now feels the pains of
-unsatisfied hunger nearly whenever he is awake. But half-clothed,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>
-and never supplied with more warmth than suffices to
-cook his scanty meals, cold and wet come to him, and stay by
-him, with the weather. He is married, of course; for to this he
-would have been driven by the poor-laws, even if he had been,
-as he never was, sufficiently comfortable and prudent to dread
-the burden of a family. But, though instinct and the overseer
-have given him a wife, he has not tasted the highest joys of husband
-and father. His partner and his little ones being, like himself,
-often hungry, seldom warm, sometimes sick without aid, and
-always sorrowful without hope, are greedy, selfish, and vexing;
-so, to use his own expression, he 'hates the sight of them,' and
-resorts to his hovel only because a hedge affords less shelter from
-the wind and rain. Compelled by parish law to support his
-family, which means to join them in consuming an allowance
-from the parish, he frequently conspires with his wife to get that
-allowance increased, or prevent its being diminished. This
-brings begging, trickery, and quarrelling; and ends in settled
-craft. Though he has the inclination he wants the courage to
-become, like more energetic men of his class, a poacher or smuggler
-on a large scale; but he pilfers occasionally, and teaches
-his children to lie and steal. His subdued and slavish manner
-toward his great neighbours shows that they treat him with suspicion
-and harshness. Consequently he at once dreads and hates
-them; but he will never harm them by violent means. Too degraded
-to be desperate, he is only thoroughly depraved. His
-miserable career will be short; rheumatism and asthma are conducting
-him to the workhouse, where he will breathe his last
-without one pleasant recollection, and so make room for another
-wretch, who may live and die in the same way. This is a sample
-of one class of English peasants. Another class is composed
-of men who, though paupers to the extent of being in part supported
-by the parish, were not bred and born in extreme destitution,
-and who, therefore, in so far as the moral depends on the
-physical man, are qualified to become wise, virtuous, and happy.
-They have large muscles, an upright mien, and a quick perception.
-With strength, energy, and skill, they would earn a comfortable
-subsistence as labourers, if the modern fashion of paying
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>
-wages out of the poor-box did not interfere with the due course
-of things, and reduce all the labourers of a parish, the old and
-the young, the weak and the strong, the idle and the industrious,
-to that lowest rate of wages, or rather of weekly payment to
-each, which, in each case, is barely sufficient for the support of
-life. If there were no poor-laws, or if the poor-laws were such
-that labour was paid in proportion to the work performed, and
-not according to a scale founded on the power of gastric juice
-under various circumstances, these superior men would be employed
-in preference to the inferior beings described above,
-would earn twice as much as the others could earn, and would
-have every motive for industry, providence, and general good
-conduct. As it is, their superior capacity as labourers is of no
-advantage to them. They have no motive for being industrious
-or prudent. What they obtain between labour and the rate is
-but just enough to support them miserably. They are tempted
-to marry for the sake of an extra allowance from the parish: and
-they would be sunk to the lowest point of degradation but for the
-energy of their minds, which they owe to their physical strength.
-Courage and tenderness are said to be allied: men of this class
-usually make good husbands and affectionate parents. Impelled
-by want of food, clothes, and warmth, for themselves and their
-families, they become poachers wherever game abounds, and
-smugglers when opportunity serves. By poaching or smuggling,
-or both, many of them are enabled to fill the bellies of their children,
-to put decent clothes on the backs of their wives, and to
-keep the cottage whole, with a good fire in it, from year's end to
-year's end. The villains! why are they not taken up? They
-are taken up sometimes, and are hunted always, by those who
-administer rural law. In this way they learn to consider two
-sets of laws—those for the protection of game, and those for the
-protection of home manufactures—as specially made for their
-injury. Be just to our unpaid magistrates! who perform their
-duty, even to the shedding of man's blood, in defence of pheasants
-and restrictions on trade. Thus the bolder sort of husbandry
-labourers, by engaging in murderous conflicts with gamekeepers
-and preventive men, become accustomed to deeds of violence,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>
-and, by living in jails, qualified for the most desperate courses.
-They also imbibe feelings of dislike, or rather of bitter hatred,
-toward the rural magistracy, whom they regard as oppressors
-and natural enemies; closely resembling, in this respect, the
-defective class of peasants from whom they differ in so many particulars.
-Between these two descriptions of peasantry there is
-another, which partakes of the characteristics of both classes, but
-in a slighter degree, except as regards their fear and hatred of
-the rural aristocracy. In the districts where paupers and game
-abound, it would be difficult to find many labourers not coming
-under one of these descriptions. By courtesy, the entire body is
-called the bold peasantry of England. But is nothing done by
-the 'nobility, clergy, and gentry,' to conciliate the affection of the
-pauper mass, by whose toil all their own wealth is produced?
-Charity! The charity of the poor-laws, which paupers have been
-taught to consider a right, which operates as a curse to the able-bodied
-and well-disposed, while it but just enables the infirm of
-all ages to linger on in pain and sorrow. Soup! Dogs'-meat,
-the paupers call it. They are very ungrateful; but there is a
-way of relieving a man's necessities which will make him hate
-you; and it is in this way, generally, that soup is given to the
-poor. Books, good little books, which teach patience and submission
-to the powers that be! With which such paupers as obtain
-them usually boil their kettles, when not deterred by fear of the
-reverend donor. Of this gift the design is so plain and offensive,
-that its effect is contrary to what was intended, just as children
-from whom obedience is very strictly exacted are commonly
-rebels at heart. What else? is nothing else done by the rural
-rich to win the love of the rural poor? Speaking generally,
-since all rules have exceptions, the privileged classes of our rural
-districts take infinite pains to be abhorred by their poorest neighbours.
-They enclose commons. They stop footpaths. They
-wall in their parks. They set spring-guns and man-traps. They
-spend on the keep of high-bred dogs what would support half as
-many children, and yet persecute a labouring man for owning
-one friend in his cur. They make rates of wages, elaborately
-calculating the minimum of food that will keep together the soul
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>
-and body of a clodhopper. They breed game in profusion for
-their own amusement, and having thus tempted the poor man to
-knock down a hare for his pot, they send him to the treadmill,
-or the antipodes, for that inexpiable offence. They build jails,
-and fill them. They make new crimes and new punishments for
-the poor. They interfere with the marriages of the poor, compelling
-some, and forbidding others, to come together. They shut
-up paupers in workhouses, separating husband and wife, in
-pounds by day and wards by night. They harness poor men to
-carts. They superintend alehouses, decry skittles, deprecate
-beer-shops, meddle with fairs, and otherwise curtail the already
-narrow amusements of the poor. Even in church, where some
-of them solemnly preach that all are equal, they sit on cushions,
-in pews boarded, matted, and sheltered by curtains from the wind
-and the vulgar gaze, while the lower order must put up with a
-bare bench on a stone floor, which is good enough for them.
-Everywhere they are ostentatious in the display of wealth and
-enjoyment; while, in their intercourse with the poor, they are
-suspicious, quick at taking offence, vindictive when displeased,
-haughty, overbearing, tyrannical, and wolfish; as it seems in
-the nature of man to be toward such of his fellows as, like sheep,
-are without the power to resist."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In London, a species of slavery pertains to the workhouse
-system which has justly excited much indignation.
-This is the employment of paupers as scavengers in the
-streets, without due compensation, and compelling them
-to wear badges, as if they were convicted criminals.
-Mr. Mayhew has some judicious remarks upon this subject:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"If pauperism be a disgrace, then it is unjust to turn a man
-into the public thoroughfare, wearing the badge of beggary, to be
-pointed at and scorned for his poverty, especially when we are
-growing so particularly studious of our criminals that we make
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>
-them wear masks to prevent even their faces being seen.<a name="FNanchor_91_91"
-id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> Nor
-is it consistent with the principles of an enlightened national
-morality that we should force a body of honest men to labour
-upon the highways, branded with a degrading garb, like convicts.
-Neither is it <i>wise</i> to do so, for the shame of poverty soon becomes
-deadened by the repeated exposure to public scorn; and thus the
-occasional recipient of parish relief is ultimately converted into
-the hardened and habitual pauper. "Once a pauper always a
-pauper," I was assured was the parish rule; and here lies the
-<i>rationale</i> of the fact. Not long ago this system of employing <i>badged</i>
-paupers to labour on the public thoroughfares was carried to a
-much more offensive extent than it is even at present. At one
-time the pauper labourers of a certain parish had the attention of
-every passer-by attracted to them while at their work, for on the
-back of each man's garb—a sort of smock frock—was marked,
-with sufficient prominence, '<span class="sc">Clerkenwell. Stop it!</span>' This public
-intimation that the labourers were not only paupers, but regarded
-as thieves, and expected to purloin the parish dress they wore,
-attracted public attention, and was severely commented upon at a
-meeting. The '<span class="sc">Stop it!</span>' therefore was cancelled, and the frocks
-are now <i>merely</i> lettered '<span class="sc">Clerkenwell</span>.' Before the alteration
-the men very generally wore the garment inside out."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The pauper scavengers employed by the metropolitan
-parishes are divided into three classes: 1. The
-in-door paupers, who receive no wages whatever, their
-lodging, food, and clothing being considered to be sufficient
-remuneration for their labour; 2. The out-door
-paupers, who are paid partly in money and partly in
-kind, and employed in some cases three days, and in
-others six days in the week; 3. The unemployed labourers
-of the district, who are set to scavenging work
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>
-by the parish and paid a regular money-wage—the employment
-being constant, and the rate of remuneration
-varying from 1<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i> to 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a day for each of the six
-days, or from 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> to 15<i>s.</i> a week.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The first class of pauper-scavengers, or those who receive
-nothing for their labour beyond their lodging, food,
-and clothing, are treated as slaves. The labour is compulsory,
-without inducements for exertion, and conducted
-upon the same system which the authorities of the parish
-would use for working cattle. One of these scavengers
-gave the following account of this degrading labour to
-Mr. Mayhew:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Street-sweeping,' he said, 'degrades a man, and if a man's
-poor he hasn't no call to be degraded. Why can't they set the
-thieves and pickpockets to sweep? they could be watched easy
-enough; there's always idle fellers as reckons theirselves real
-gents, as can be got for watching and sitch easy jobs, for they
-gets as much for them as three men's paid for hard work in a
-week. I never was in a prison, but I've heerd that people there
-is better fed and better cared for than in workusses. What's the
-meaning of that, sir, I'd like to know. You can't tell me, but I
-can tell you. The workus is made as ugly as it can be, that poor
-people may be got to leave it, and chance dying in the street
-rather.' [Here the man indulged in a gabbled detail of a series
-of pauper grievances which I had a difficulty in diverting or interrupting.
-On my asking if the other paupers had the same opinion
-as to the street-sweeping as he had, he replied:—] 'To be sure
-they has; all them that has sense to have a 'pinion at all has;
-there's not two sides to it anyhow. No, I don't want to be kept
-and do nothink. I want <i>proper</i> work. And by the rights of it I
-might as well be kept with nothink to do as —— or ——' [parish
-officials]. 'Have they nothing to do?' I asked. 'Nothink, but
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>
-to make mischief and get what ought to go to the poor. It's salaries
-and such like as swallers the rates, and that's what every
-poor family knows as knows any think. Did I ever like my work
-better? Certainly not. Do I take any pains with it? Well,
-where would be the good? I can sweep well enough, when I please,
-but if I could do more than the best man as ever Mr. Drake paid
-a pound a week to, it wouldn't be a bit better for me—not a bit,
-sir, I assure you. We all takes it easy whenever we can, but the
-work <i>must</i> be done. The only good about it is that you get outside
-the house. It's a change that way certainly. But we work
-like horses and is treated like asses.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The second mode of pauper scavenging, viz. that
-performed by out-door paupers, and paid for partly in
-money and partly in kind, is strongly condemned, as
-having mischievous and degrading tendencies. The
-men thus employed are certainly not independent labourers,
-though the means of their subsistence are partly
-the fruits of their toil. Their exceedingly scant payment
-keeps them hard at work for a very unreasonable
-period. Should they refuse to obey the parish regulations
-in regard to the work, the pangs of hunger are
-sure to reach them and compel them to submit. Death
-is the only door of escape. From a married man employed
-by the parish in this work, Mr. Mayhew obtained
-the following interesting narrative, which is a sad revelation
-of pauper slavery:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'I was brought up as a type-founder; my father, who was one,
-learnt me his trade; but he died when I was quite a young man,
-or I might have been better perfected in it. I was comfortably
-off enough then, and got married. Very soon after that I was
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>
-taken ill with an abscess in my neck, you can see the mark of it
-still,' [He showed me the mark.] 'For six months I wasn't able
-to do a thing, and I was a part of the time, I don't recollect how
-long, in St. Bartholomew's Hospital. I was weak and ill when I
-came out, and hardly fit for work; I couldn't hear of any work I
-could get, for there was a great bother in the trade between master
-and men. Before I went into the hospital, there was money
-to pay to doctors; and when I came out I could earn nothing, so
-every thing went; yes, sir, every thing. My wife made a little
-matter with charing for families she'd lived in, but things are in
-a bad way if a poor woman has to keep her husband. She was
-taken ill at last, and then there was nothing but the parish for us.
-I suffered a great deal before it come to that. It was awful. No
-one can know what it is but them that suffers it. But I didn't
-know what in the world to do. We lived then in St. Luke's, and
-were passed to our own parish, and were three months in the
-workhouse. The living was good enough, better than it is now,
-I've heard, but I was miserable.' ['And I was <i>very</i> miserable,'
-interposed the wife, 'for I had been brought up comfortable; my
-father was a respectable tradesman in St. George's-in-the-East, and
-I had been in good situations.'] 'We made ourselves,' said the
-husband, 'as useful as we could, but we were parted of course.
-At the three months' end, I had 10<i>s.</i> given to me to come out with,
-and was told I might start costermongering on it. But to a man
-not up to the trade, 10<i>s.</i> won't go very far to keep up costering.
-I didn't feel master enough of my own trade by this time to try
-for work at it, and work wasn't at all regular. There were good
-hands earning only 12<i>s.</i> a week. The 10<i>s.</i> soon went, and I had
-again to apply for relief, and got an order for the stone-yard to go
-and break stones. Ten bushels was to be broken for 15<i>d.</i> It was
-dreadful hard work at first. My hands got all blistered and
-bloody, and I've gone home and cried with pain and wretchedness.
-At first it was on to three days before I could break the ten
-bushels. I felt shivered to bits all over my arms and shoulders,
-and my head was splitting. I then got to do it in two days, and
-then in one, and it grew easier. But all this time I had only
-what was reckoned three days' work in a week. That is, you see,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
-sir, I had only three times ten bushels of stones given to break in
-a week, and earned only 3<i>s.</i> 9<i>d.</i> Yes, I lived on it, and paid 1<i>s.</i>
-6<i>d.</i> a week rent, for the neighbours took care of a few sticks for us,
-and the parish or a broker wouldn't have found them worth carriage.
-My wife was then in the country with a sister. I lived
-upon bread and dripping, went without fire or candle (or had one
-only very seldom) though it wasn't warm weather. I can safely
-say that for eight weeks I never tasted one bite of meat, and hardly
-a bite of butter. When I couldn't sleep of a night, but that wasn't
-often, it was terrible, very. I washed what bits of things I had
-then, myself, and had sometimes to get a ha'porth of soap as a
-favour, as the chandler said she 'didn't make less than a penn'orth.'
-If I ate too much dripping, it made me feel sick. I hardly know
-how much bread and dripping I ate in a week. I spent what
-money I had in it and bread, and sometimes went without. I was
-very weak, you may be sure, sir; and if I'd had the influenza or
-any thing that way, I should have gone off like a shot, for I seemed
-to have no constitution left. But my wife came back again and
-got work at charing, and made about 4<i>s.</i> a week at it; but we
-were still very badly off. Then I got to work on the roads every
-day, and had 1<i>s.</i> and a quartern loaf a day, which was a rise. I
-had only one child then, but men with larger families got two
-quartern loaves a day. Single men got 9<i>d.</i> a day. It was far
-easier work than stone-breaking too. The hours were from eight
-to five in winter, and from seven to six in summer. But there's
-always changes going on, and we were put on 1<i>s.</i> 1½<i>d.</i> a day and
-a quartern loaf, and only three days a week. All the same as to
-time of course. The bread wasn't good; it was only cheap. I
-suppose there was twenty of us working most of the times as I
-was. The gangsman, as you call him, but that's more for the
-regular hands, was a servant of the parish, and a great tyrant.
-Yes, indeed, when we had a talk among ourselves, there was
-nothing but grumbling heard of. Some of the tales I've heard
-were shocking; worse than what I've gone through. Everybody
-was grumbling, except perhaps two men that had been twenty
-years in the streets, and were like born paupers. They didn't
-feel it, for there's a great difference in men. They knew no better.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>
-But anybody might have been frightened to hear some of the
-men talk and curse. We've stopped work to abuse the parish
-officers as might be passing. We've mobbed the overseers; and a
-number of us, I was one, were taken before the magistrate for it:
-but we told him how badly we were off, and he discharged us, and
-gave us orders into the workhouse, and told 'em to see if nothing
-could be done for us. We were there till next morning, and then
-sent away without any thing being said.'"</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'It's a sad life, sir, is a parish worker's. I wish to God I could
-get out of it. But when a man has children he can't stop and
-say, "I can't do this," and "I won't do that." Last week, now,
-in costering, I lost 6<i>s.</i> [he meant that his expenses, of every kind,
-exceeded his receipts by 6<i>s.</i>,] and though I can distil nectar, or
-any thing that way, [this was said somewhat laughingly,] it's only
-when the weather's hot and fine that any good at all can be done
-with it. I think, too, that there's not the money among working-men
-that there once was. Any thing regular in the way of pay
-must always be looked at by a man with a family.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Of course the streets must be properly swept, and if I can
-sweep them as well as Mr. Dodd's men, for I know one of them
-very well, why should I have only 1<i>s.</i> 4½<i>d.</i> a week and three
-loaves, and he have 16<i>s.</i>, I think it is. I don't drink, my wife
-knows I don't, [the wife assented,] and it seems as if in a parish a
-man must be kept down when he is down, and then blamed for it.
-I may not understand all about it, but it looks queer."'</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The third system of parish work, where the labourer
-is employed regularly, and paid a certain sum out of the
-parochial fund, is superior to either of the other modes;
-but still, the labourers are very scantily paid, subjected
-to a great deal of tyranny by brutal officers, and miserably
-provided. They endure the severest toil for a
-wretched pittance, without being able to choose their
-masters or their employment. No slaves could be more
-completely at the mercy of their masters.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The common practice of apprenticing children born
-and reared in workhouses, to masters who may feed,
-clothe, and beat them as they please, is touchingly illustrated
-in Dickens's famous story of Oliver Twist. After
-Oliver had been subjected for some time to the tender
-mercies of guardians and overseers in the workhouse, it
-was advertised that any person wanting an apprentice
-could obtain him, and five pounds as a premium. He narrowly
-escaped being apprenticed to a sweep, and finally
-fell into the hands of Mr. Sowerberry, an undertaker.
-In the house of that dismal personage, he was fed upon
-cold bits, badly clothed, knocked about unmercifully,
-and worked with great severity. Such is the common
-fate of parish apprentices; and we do not think a more
-truthful conception of the <i>beauties</i> of the system could
-be conveyed than by quoting from the experience of
-Dickens's workhouse boy:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Oliver had not been within the walls of the workhouse a quarter
-of an hour, and had scarcely completed the demolition of a
-second slice of bread, when Mr. Bumble, who had handed him
-over to the care of an old woman, returned, and, telling him it was
-a board night, informed him that the board had said he was to
-appear before it forthwith.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Not having a very clearly defined notion what a live board
-was, Oliver was rather astounded by this intelligence, and was not
-quite certain whether he ought to laugh or cry. He had no time
-to think about the matter, however; for Mr. Bumble gave him a
-tap on the head with his cane to wake him up, and another on his
-back to make him lively, and, bidding him follow, conducted him
-into a large whitewashed room, where eight or ten fat gentlemen
-were sitting round a table, at the top of which, seated in an armchair
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>
-rather higher than the rest, was a particularly fat gentleman
-with a very round, red face.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Bow to the board,' said Bumble. Oliver brushed away two
-or three tears that were lingering in his eyes, and seeing no board
-but the table, fortunately bowed to that.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What's your name, boy?' said the gentleman in the high chair.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Oliver was frightened at the sight of so many gentlemen, which
-made him tremble: and the beadle gave him another tap behind,
-which made him cry; and these two causes made him answer in a
-very low and hesitating voice; whereupon a gentleman in a white
-waistcoat said he was a fool, which was a capital way of raising
-his spirit, and putting him quite at his ease.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Boy,' said the gentleman in the high chair: 'listen to me.
-You know you're an orphan, I suppose?'"</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What's that, sir?" inquired poor Oliver.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The boy <i>is</i> a fool—I thought he was,' said the gentleman in
-the white waistcoat in a very decided tone. If one member of a
-class be blessed with an intuitive perception of others of the same
-race, the gentleman in the white waistcoat was unquestionably
-well qualified to pronounce an opinion on the matter.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Hush!' said the gentleman who had spoken first. 'You
-know you've got no father or mother, and that you are brought up
-by the parish, don't you?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, sir,' replied Oliver, weeping bitterly.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What are you crying for?' inquired the gentleman in the
-white waistcoat; and to be sure it was very extraordinary. What
-<i>could</i> he be crying for?</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I hope you say your prayers every night,' said another gentleman
-in a gruff voice, 'and pray for the people who feed you,
-and take care of you, like a Christian.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, sir,' stammered the boy. The gentleman who spoke
-last was unconsciously right. It would have been <i>very</i> like a
-Christian, and a marvellously good Christian, too, if Oliver had
-prayed for the people who fed and took care of <i>him</i>. But he
-hadn't, because nobody had taught him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well you have come here to be educated, and taught a useful
-trade,' said the red-faced gentleman in the high chair.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'So you'll begin to pick oakum to-morrow morning at six
-o'clock,' added the surly one in the white waistcoat.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"For the combination of both these blessings in the one simple
-process of picking oakum, Oliver bowed low by the direction of
-the beadle, and was then hurried away to a large ward, where, on
-a rough hard bed, he sobbed himself to sleep. What a noble
-illustration of the tender laws of this favoured country! they let
-the paupers go to sleep!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Poor Oliver! he little thought, as he lay sleeping in happy
-unconsciousness of all around him, that the board had that very
-day arrived at a decision which would exercise the most material
-influence over all his future fortunes. But they had. And this
-was it:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The members of this board were very sage, deep, philosophical
-men; and when they came to turn their attention to the workhouse,
-they found out at once, what ordinary folks would never
-have discovered,—the poor people liked it! It was a regular
-place of public entertainment for the poorer classes,—a tavern
-where there was nothing to pay,—a public breakfast, dinner, tea,
-and supper, all the year round,—a brick and mortar elysium,
-where it was all play and no work. 'Oho!' said the board, looking
-very knowing; 'we are the fellows to set this to rights; we'll stop
-it all in no time.' So they established the rule, that all poor people
-should have the alternative (for they would compel nobody,
-not they,) of being starved by a gradual process in the house, or
-by a quick one out of it. With this view, they contracted with
-the water-works to lay on an unlimited supply of water, and with
-a corn-factor to supply periodically small quantities of oat-meal:
-and issued three meals of thin gruel a-day, with an onion twice a
-week, and half a roll on Sundays. They made a great many other
-wise and humane regulations having reference to the ladies, which
-it is not necessary to repeat; kindly undertook to divorce poor
-married people, in consequence of the great expense of a suit in
-Doctors' Commons; and, instead of compelling a man to support
-his family, as they had theretofore done, took his family away
-from him, and made him a bachelor! There is no telling how
-many applicants for relief under these last two heads would not
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>
-have started up in all classes of society, if it had not been coupled
-with the workhouse. But they were long-headed men, and they
-had provided for this difficulty. The relief was inseparable from
-the workhouse and the gruel; and that frightened people.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"For the first three months after Oliver Twist was removed, the
-system was in full operation. It was rather expensive at first, in
-consequence of the increase in the undertaker's bill, and the necessity
-of taking in the clothes of all the paupers, which fluttered
-loosely on their wasted, shrunken forms, after a week or two's
-gruel. But the number of workhouse inmates got thin, as well as
-the paupers; and the board were in ecstasies. The room in which
-the boys were fed was a large stone hall, with a copper at one end,
-out of which the master, dressed in an apron for the purpose, and
-assisted by one or two women, ladled the gruel at meal-times; of
-which composition each boy had one porringer, and no more,—except
-on festive occasions, and then he had two ounces and a
-quarter of bread besides. The bowls never wanted washing—the
-boys polished them with their spoons, till they shone again; and
-when they had performed this operation, (which never took very
-long, the spoons being nearly as large as the bowls,) they would
-sit staring at the copper with such eager eyes, as if they could devour
-the very bricks of which it was composed; employing themselves
-meanwhile in sucking their fingers most assiduously, with
-the view of catching up any stray splashes of gruel that might have
-been cast thereon. Boys have generally excellent appetites: Oliver
-Twist and his companions suffered the tortures of slow starvation
-for three months; at last they got so voracious and wild with hunger,
-that one boy, who was tall for his age, and hadn't been used
-to that sort of thing, (for his father had kept a small cook's shop,)
-hinted darkly to his companions, that unless he had another basin
-of gruel <i>per diem</i>, he was afraid he should some night eat the boy
-who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of tender
-age. He had a wild, hungry eye, and they implicitly believed him.
-A council was held; lots were cast who should walk up to the master
-after supper that evening, and ask for more; and it fell to
-Oliver Twist.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The evening arrived: the boys took their places; the master, in
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>
-his cook's uniform, stationed himself at the copper; his pauper
-assistants ranged themselves behind him; the gruel was served
-out, and a long grace was said over the short commons. The gruel
-disappeared, and the boys whispered to each other and winked at
-Oliver, while his next neighbours nudged him. Child as he was,
-he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. He rose
-from the table, and, advancing, basin and spoon in hand, to the
-master, said, somewhat alarmed at his own temerity—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Please, sir, I want some more.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The master was a fat, healthy man, but he turned very pale.
-He gazed in stupefied astonishment on the small rebel for some
-seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The assistants
-were paralyzed with wonder, and the boys with fear.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What!' said the master at length, in a faint voice.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Please, sir,' replied Oliver, 'I want some more.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle,
-pinioned him in his arms, and shrieked aloud for the beadle.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble
-rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the
-gentleman in the high chair, said—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir;—Oliver Twist has
-asked for more.' There was a general start. Horror was depicted
-on every countenance.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'For <i>more</i>!' said Mr. Limbkins. 'Compose yourself, Bumble,
-and answer me distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for
-more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'He did, sir,' replied Bumble.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'That boy will be hung,' said the gentleman in the white
-waistcoat; 'I know that boy will be hung.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Nobody controverted the prophetic gentleman's opinion. An
-animated discussion took place. Oliver was ordered into instant
-confinement; and a bill was next morning pasted on the outside
-of the gate, offering a reward of five pounds to anybody who
-would take Oliver Twist off the hands of the parish; in other
-words, five pounds and Oliver Twist were offered to any man or
-woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or
-calling.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'I never was more convinced of any thing in my life,' said
-the gentleman in the white waistcoat, as he knocked at the gate
-and read the bill next morning,—'I never was more convinced
-of any thing in my life, than I am that that boy will come to be
-hung.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"For a week after the commission of the impious and profane
-offence of asking for more, Oliver remained a close prisoner in
-the dark and solitary room to which he had been consigned by
-the wisdom and mercy of the board. It appears, at first sight,
-not unreasonable to suppose, that, if he had entertained a becoming
-feeling of respect for the prediction of the gentleman in
-the white waistcoat, he would have established that sage individual's
-prophetic character, once and for ever, by tying one end
-of his pocket-handkerchief to a hook in the wall, and attaching
-himself to the other. To the performance of this feat, however,
-there was one obstacle, namely, that pocket-handkerchiefs being
-decided articles of luxury, had been, for all future times and
-ages, removed from the noses of paupers by the express order of
-the board in council assembled, solemnly given and pronounced
-under their hands and seals. There was a still greater obstacle
-in Oliver's youth and childishness. He only cried bitterly all
-day; and when the long, dismal night came on, he spread his
-little hands before his eyes to shut out the darkness, and crouching
-in the corner, tried to sleep, ever and anon waking with a
-start and tremble, and drawing himself closer and closer to the
-wall, as if to feel even its cold hard surface were a protection in
-the gloom and loneliness which surrounded him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Let it not be supposed by the enemies of 'the system,' that,
-during the period of his solitary incarceration, Oliver was denied
-the benefit of exercise, the pleasure of society, or the advantages
-of religious consolation. As for exercise, it was nice cold weather,
-and he was allowed to perform his ablutions every morning
-under the pump, in a stone yard, in the presence of Mr. Bumble,
-who prevented his catching cold, and caused a tingling sensation
-to pervade his frame, by repeated applications of the cane; as for
-society, he was carried every other day into the hall where the
-boys dined, and there sociably flogged, as a public warning and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>
-example; and, so far from being denied the advantages of religious
-consolation, he was kicked into the same apartment every
-evening at prayer-time, and there permitted to listen to, and console
-his mind with, a general supplication of the boys, containing
-a special clause therein inserted by the authority of the board, in
-which they entreated to be made good, virtuous, contented, and
-obedient, and to be guarded from the sins and vices of Oliver
-Twist, whom the supplication distinctly set forth to be under the
-exclusive patronage and protection of the powers of wickedness,
-and an article direct from the manufactory of the devil himself.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It chanced one morning, while Oliver's affairs were in this
-auspicious and comfortable state, that Mr. Gamfield, chimney-sweeper,
-was wending his way adown the High-street, deeply
-cogitating in his mind his ways and means of paying certain
-arrears of rent, for which his landlord had become rather pressing.
-Mr. Gamfield's most sanguine calculation of funds could
-not raise them within full five pounds of the desired amount;
-and, in a species of arithmetical desperation, he was alternately
-cudgelling his brains and his donkey, when, passing the workhouse,
-his eyes encountered the bill on the gate.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Woo!' said Mr. Gamfield to the donkey.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The donkey was in a state of profound abstraction—wondering,
-probably, whether he was destined to be regaled with a cabbage-stalk
-or two, when he had disposed of the two sacks of soot
-with which the little cart was laden; so, without noticing the
-word of command, he jogged onward.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Gamfield growled a fierce imprecation on the donkey
-generally, but more particularly on his eyes; and running after
-him, bestowed a blow on his head which would inevitably have
-beaten in any skull but a donkey's; then, catching hold of the
-bridle, he gave his jaw a sharp wrench, by way of gentle reminder
-that he was not his own master; and, having by these
-means turned him round, he gave him another blow on the head,
-just to stun him until he came back again; and, having done so,
-walked to the gate to read the bill.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The gentleman with the white waistcoat was standing at the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>
-gate with his hands behind him, after having delivered himself
-of some profound sentiments in the board-room. Having witnessed
-the little dispute between Mr. Gamfield and the donkey, he
-smiled joyously when that person came up to read the bill, for he
-saw at once that Mr. Gamfield was just exactly the sort of master
-Oliver Twist wanted. Mr. Gamfield smiled, too, as he perused the
-document, for five pounds was just the sum he had been wishing
-for; and, as to the boy with which it was encumbered, Mr. Gamfield,
-knowing what the dietary of the workhouse was, well knew
-he would be a nice small pattern, just the very thing for register
-stoves. So he spelt the bill through again, from beginning to
-end; and then, touching his fur cap in token of humility, accosted
-the gentleman in the white waistcoat.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'This here boy, sir, wot the parish wants to 'prentis,' said Mr.
-Gamfield.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, my man,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat,
-with a condescending smile, 'what of him?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'If the parish vould like him to learn a light, pleasant trade,
-in a good 'spectable chimbley-sweepin bisness,' said Mr. Gamfield,
-'I wants a 'prentis, and I'm ready to take him.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Walk in,' said the gentleman with the white waistcoat.
-And Mr. Gamfield having lingered behind, to give the donkey
-another blow on the head, and another wrench of the jaw, as a
-caution not to run away in his absence, followed the gentleman
-in the white waistcoat into the room where Oliver had first seen
-him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'It's a nasty trade,' said Mr. Limbkins, when Gamfield had
-again stated his case.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Young boys have been smothered in chimeys, before now,'
-said another gentleman.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'That's acause they damped the straw afore they lit it in the
-chimbley to make'em come down again,' said Gamfield; 'that's
-all smoke, and no blaze: vereas smoke a'n't o' no use at all in
-makin' a boy come down; it only sinds him to sleep, and that's
-wot he likes. Boys is wery obstinit, and wery lazy, gen'lm'n,
-and there's nothink like a good hot blaze to make em come down
-vith a run; it's humane, too, gen'lm'n, acause, even if they've
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>
-stuck in the chimbley, roastin' their feet makes 'em struggle to
-hextricate theirselves.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The gentleman in the white waistcoat appeared very much
-amused with this explanation; but his mirth was speedily checked
-by a look from Mr. Limbkins. The board then proceeded to converse
-among themselves for a few minutes, but in so low a tone
-that the words, 'saving of expenditure,' 'look well in the accounts,'
-'have a printed report published,' were alone audible;
-and they only chanced to be heard on account of their being very
-frequently repeated with great emphasis.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"At length the whispering ceased, and the members of the
-board having resumed their seats and their solemnity, Mr. Limbkins
-said,</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'We have considered your proposition, and we don't approve
-of it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Not at all,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Decidedly not,' added the other members.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"As Mr. Gamfield did happen to labour under the slight imputation
-of having bruised three or four boys to death already, it
-occurred to him that the board had perhaps, in some unaccountable
-freak, taken it into their heads that this extraneous circumstance
-ought to influence their proceedings. It was very unlike
-their general mode of doing business, if they had; but still, as
-he had no particular wish to revive the rumour, he twisted his
-cap in his hands, and walked slowly from the table.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'So you won't let me have him, gen'lmen,' said Mr. Gamfield,
-pausing near the door.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No,' replied Mr. Limbkins; 'at least, as it's a nasty business,
-we think you ought to take something less than the premium
-we offered.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Gamfield's countenance brightened, as with a quick step
-he returned to the table, and said,</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What'll you give, gen'lmen? Come, don't be too hard on a
-poor man. What'll you give?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I should say three pound ten was plenty,' said Mr. Limbkins.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Ten shillings too much,' said the gentleman in the white
-waistcoat.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Come,' said Gamfield, 'say four pound, gen'lmen. Say
-four pound, and you've got rid of him for good and all. There!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Three pound ten,' repeated Mr. Limbkins, firmly.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Come, I'll split the difference, gen'lmen,' urged Gamfield.
-'Three pound fifteen.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Not a farthing more,' was the firm reply of Mr. Limbkins.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You're desp'rate hard upon me, gen'lmen,' said Gamfield,
-wavering.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Pooh! pooh! nonsense!' said the gentleman in the white
-waistcoat. 'He'd be cheap with nothing at all as a premium.
-Take him, you silly fellow! He's just the boy for you. He
-wants the stick now and then; it'll do him good; and his board
-needn't come very expensive, for he hasn't been overfed since he
-was born. Ha! ha! ha!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Gamfield gave an arch look at the faces round the table,
-and, observing a smile on all of them, gradually broke into a
-smile himself. The bargain was made, and Mr. Bumble was at
-once instructed that Oliver Twist and his indentures were to be
-conveyed before the magistrate for signature and approval, that
-very afternoon.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In pursuance of this determination, little Oliver, to his excessive
-astonishment, was released from bondage, and ordered to put
-himself into a clean shirt. He had hardly achieved this very unusual
-gymnastic performance, when Mr. Bumble brought him
-with his own hands, a basin of gruel, and the holiday allowance
-of two ounces and a quarter of bread; at sight of which Oliver
-began to cry very piteously, thinking, not unnaturally, that the
-board must have determined to kill him for some useful purpose,
-or they never would have begun to fatten him up in this way.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Don't make your eyes red, Oliver, but eat your food, and be
-thankful,' said Mr. Bumble, in a tone of impressive pomposity.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">'You're a-going to be made a 'prentice of, Oliver.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'A 'prentice, sir!' said the child, trembling.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, Oliver,' said Mr. Bumble. 'The kind and blessed gentlemen
-which is so many parents to you, Oliver, when you have
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
-none of your own, are a-going to 'prentice you, and to set you up
-in life, and make a man of you, although the expense to the
-parish is three pound ten!—three pound ten, Oliver!—seventy
-shillin's!—one hundred and forty sixpences!—and all for a
-naughty orphan which nobody can love.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"As Mr. Bumble paused to take breath after delivering this
-address, in an awful voice, the tears rolled down the poor child's
-face, and he sobbed bitterly.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Come,' said Mr. Bumble, somewhat less pompously; for it
-was gratifying to his feelings to observe the effect his eloquence
-had produced. 'Come, Oliver, wipe your eyes with the cuffs of
-your jacket, and don't cry into your gruel; that's a very foolish
-action, Oliver.' It certainly was, for there was quite enough
-water in it already.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"On their way to the magistrate's, Mr. Bumble instructed
-Oliver that all he would have to do would be to look very happy,
-and say, when the gentleman asked him if he wanted to be apprenticed,
-that he should like it very much indeed; both of
-which injunctions Oliver promised to obey, the more readily as
-Mr. Bumble threw in a gentle hint, that if he failed in either particular,
-there was no telling what would be done to him. When
-they arrived at the office he was shut up in a little room by himself,
-and admonished by Mr. Bumble to stay there until he came
-back to fetch him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There the boy remained with a palpitating heart for half an
-hour, at the expiration of which time Mr. Bumble thrust in his
-head, unadorned with the cocked hat, and said aloud,</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Now, Oliver, my dear, come to the gentleman.' As Mr.
-Bumble said this, he put on a grim and threatening look, and
-added in a low voice, 'Mind what I told you, you young rascal.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Oliver stared innocently in Mr. Bumble's face at this somewhat
-contradictory style of address; but that gentleman prevented
-his offering any remark thereupon, by leading him at once
-into an adjoining room, the door of which was open. It was a
-large room with a great window; and behind a desk sat two old
-gentlemen with powdered heads, one of whom was reading the
-newspaper, while the other was perusing, with the aid of a pair
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>
-of tortoise-shell spectacles, a small piece of parchment which lay
-before him. Mr. Limbkins was standing in front of the desk, on
-one side; and Mr. Gamfield, with a partially washed face, on the
-other; while two or three bluff-looking men in top-boots were
-lounging about.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The old gentleman with the spectacles gradually dozed off,
-over the little bit of parchment; and there was a short pause
-after Oliver had been stationed by Mr. Bumble in front of the
-desk.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'This is the boy, your worship,' said Mr. Bumble.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The old gentleman who was reading the newspaper raised
-his head for a moment, and pulled the other old gentleman by
-the sleeve, whereupon the last-mentioned old gentleman woke up.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Oh, is this the boy?' said the old gentleman.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'This is him, sir,' replied Mr. Bumble. 'Bow to the magistrate,
-my dear.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Oliver roused himself, and made his best obeisance. He had
-been wondering, with his eyes fixed on the magistrate's powder,
-whether all boards were born with that white stuff on their
-heads, and were boards from thenceforth, on that account.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well,' said the old gentleman, 'I suppose he's fond of chimney-sweeping?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'He dotes on it, your worship,' replied Bumble, giving Oliver
-a sly pinch, to intimate that he had better not say he didn't.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And he <i>will</i> be a sweep, will he?' inquired the old gentleman.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'If we was to bind him to any other trade to-morrow, he'd
-run away simultaneously, your worship,' replied Bumble.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And this man that's to be his master,—you, sir,—you'll
-treat him well, and feed him, and do all that sort of thing,—will
-you?' said the old gentleman.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'When I says I will, I means I will,' replied Mr. Gamfield,
-doggedly.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You're a rough speaker, my friend, but you look an honest,
-open-hearted man,' said the old gentleman, turning his spectacles
-in the direction of the candidate for Oliver's premium, whose
-villanous countenance was a regular stamped receipt for cruelty.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>
-But the magistrate was half blind, and half childish, so he
-couldn't reasonably be expected to discern what other people did.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I hope I am, sir,' said Mr. Gamfield with an ugly leer.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I have no doubt you are, my friend,' replied the old gentleman,
-fixing his spectacles more firmly on his nose, and looking
-about him for the inkstand.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It was the critical moment of Oliver's fate. If the inkstand
-had been where the old gentleman thought it was, he would have
-dipped his pen into it and signed the indentures, and Oliver
-would have been straightway hurried off. But, as it chanced to
-be immediately under his nose, it followed as a matter of course,
-that he looked all over his desk for it, without finding it; and
-happening in the course of his search to look straight before him,
-his gaze encountered the pale and terrified face of Oliver Twist,
-who, despite of all the admonitory looks and pinches of Bumble,
-was regarding the very repulsive countenance of his future master
-with a mingled expression of horror and fear, too palpable to
-be mistaken even by a half-blind magistrate.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The old gentleman stopped, laid down his pen, and looked
-from Oliver to Mr. Limbkins, who attempted to take snuff with a
-cheerful and unconcerned aspect.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'My boy,' said the old gentleman, leaning over the desk.
-Oliver started at the sound,—he might be excused for doing so,
-for the words were kindly said, and strange sounds frighten one.
-He trembled violently, and burst into tears.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'My boy,' said the old gentleman, 'you look pale and
-alarmed. What is the matter?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Stand a little away from him, beadle,' said the other magistrate,
-laying aside the paper and leaning forward with an expression
-of some interest. 'Now, boy, tell us what's the matter;
-don't be afraid.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Oliver fell on his knees, and, clasping his hands together,
-prayed that they would order him back to the dark room—that
-they would starve him—beat him—kill him if they pleased, rather
-than send him away with that dreadful man.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well!' said Mr. Bumble, raising his hands and eyes with
-most impressive solemnity—'Well! of <i>all</i> the artful and designing
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
-orphans that ever I see, Oliver, you are one of the most bare-facedest.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Hold your tongue, beadle,' said the second old gentleman,
-when Mr. Bumble had given vent to this compound adjective.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I beg your worship's pardon,' said Mr. Bumble, incredulous
-of his having heard aright—'did your worship speak to me?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes—hold your tongue.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Bumble was stupefied with astonishment. A beadle
-ordered to hold his tongue! A moral revolution.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The old gentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacles looked at
-his companion; he nodded significantly.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'We refuse to sanction these indentures,' said the old gentleman,
-tossing aside the piece of parchment as he spoke.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I hope,' stammered Mr. Limbkins—'I hope the magistrates
-will not form the opinion that the authorities have been guilty
-of any improper conduct, on the unsupported testimony of a mere
-child.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The magistrates are not called upon to pronounce any opinion
-on the matter,' said the second old gentleman, sharply. 'Take
-the boy back to the workhouse and treat him kindly; he seems
-to want it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"That same evening the gentleman in the white waistcoat most
-positively and decidedly affirmed, not only that Oliver would be
-hung, but that he would be drawn and quartered into the bargain.
-Mr. Bumble shook his head with gloomy mystery, and said
-he wished he might come to good: to which Mr. Gamfield replied
-that he wished he might come to him, which, although he agreed
-with the beadle in most matters, would seem to be a wish of a
-totally opposite description.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The next morning the public were once more informed that
-Oliver Twist was again to let, and that five pounds would be paid
-to anybody who would take possession of him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In great families, when an advantageous place cannot be obtained,
-either in possession, reversion, remainder, or expectancy,
-for the young man who is growing up, it is a very general custom
-to send him to sea. The board, in imitation of so wise and salutary
-an example, took counsel together on the expediency of shipping
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>
-off Oliver Twist in some small trading-vessel bound to a good
-unhealthy port, which suggested itself as the very best thing that
-could possibly be done with him; the probability being that the
-skipper would either flog him to death in a playful mood, some
-day after dinner, or knock his brains out with an iron bar, both
-pastimes being, as is pretty generally known, very favourite and
-common recreations among gentlemen of that class. The more
-the case presented itself to the board in this point of view, the
-more manifold the advantages of the step appeared; so they came
-to the conclusion that the only way of providing for Oliver effectually,
-was to send him to sea without delay.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Bumble had been despatched to make various preliminary
-inquiries, with the view of finding out some captain or other
-who wanted a cabin-boy without any friends; and was returning
-to the workhouse to communicate the result of his mission, when
-he encountered just at the gate no less a person than Mr. Sowerberry,
-the parochial undertaker.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Sowerberry was a tall, gaunt, large-jointed man, attired
-in a suit of threadbare black, with darned cotton stockings of the
-same colour, and shoes to answer. His features were not naturally
-intended to wear a smiling aspect, but he was in general
-rather given to professional jocosity; his step was elastic, and his
-face betokened inward pleasantry as he advanced to Mr. Bumble
-and shook him cordially by the hand.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I have taken the measure of the two women that died last
-night, Mr. Bumble,' said the undertaker.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry,' said the beadle,
-as he thrust his thumb and forefinger into the proffered snuff-box
-of the undertaker, which was an ingenious little model of a patent
-coffin. 'I say you'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry,' repeated
-Mr. Bumble, tapping the undertaker on the shoulder in a
-friendly manner with his cane.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Think so?' said the undertaker in a tone which half admitted
-and half disputed the probability of the event. 'The prices allowed
-by the board are very small, Mr. Bumble.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'So are the coffins,' replied the beadle, with precisely as near
-an approach to a laugh as a great official ought to indulge in.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Sowerberry was much tickled at this, as of course he
-ought to be, and laughed a long time without cessation. 'Well,
-well, Mr. Bumble,' he said at length, 'there's no denying that,
-since the new system of feeding has come in, the coffins are something
-narrower and more shallow than they used to be; but we
-must have some profit, Mr. Bumble. Well-seasoned timber is an
-expensive article, sir; and all the iron handles come by canal
-from Birmingham.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well, well,' said Mr. Bumble, 'every trade has its drawbacks,
-and a fair profit is of course allowable.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Of course, of course,' replied the undertaker; 'and if I don't
-get a profit upon this or that particular article, why I make it up
-in the long run, you see—he! he! he!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Just so,' said Mr. Bumble.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Though I must say,'—continued the undertaker, resuming
-the current of observations which the beadle had interrupted,—'though
-I must say, Mr. Bumble, that I have to contend against
-one very great disadvantage, which is, that all the stout people
-go off the quickest—I mean that the people who have been better
-off, and have paid rates for many years, are the first to sink when
-they come into the house; and let me tell you, Mr. Bumble, that
-three or four inches over one's calculation makes a great hole in
-one's profits, especially when one has a family to provide for, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"As Mr. Sowerberry said this, with the becoming indignation
-of an ill-used man, and as Mr. Bumble felt that it rather tended
-to convey a reflection on the honour of the parish, the latter gentleman
-thought it advisable to change the subject; and Oliver
-Twist being uppermost in his mind, he made him his theme.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'By-the-by,' said Mr. Bumble, 'you don't know anybody who
-wants a boy, do you—a parochial 'prentis, who is at present a
-dead-weight—a millstone, as I may say—round the parochial
-throat? Liberal terms, Mr. Sowerberry—liberal terms;' and, as
-Mr. Bumble spoke, he raised his cane to the bill above him and
-gave three distinct raps upon the words 'five pounds,' which were
-printed therein in Roman capitals of gigantic size.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Gadso!' said the undertaker, taking Mr. Bumble by the
-gilt-edged lappel of his official coat; 'that's just the very thing I
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>
-wanted to speak to you about. You know—dear me, what a very
-elegant button this is, Mr. Bumble; I never noticed it before.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, I think it is rather pretty,' said the beadle, glancing
-proudly downward at the large brass buttons which embellished
-his coat. 'The die is the same as the parochial seal—the Good
-Samaritan healing the sick and bruised man. The board presented
-it to me on New-year's morning, Mr. Sowerberry. I put
-it on, I remember, for the first time to attend the inquest on that
-reduced tradesman who died in a doorway at midnight.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"' I recollect,' said the undertaker. 'The jury brought in—Died
-from exposure to the cold, and want of the common necessaries
-of life—didn't they?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Bumble nodded.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And they made it a special verdict, I think,' said the undertaker,
-'by adding some words to the effect, that if the relieving
-officer had'——</p>
-
-<p class="i1">'Tush—foolery!' interposed the beadle, angrily. 'If the
-board attended to all the nonsense that ignorant jurymen talk,
-they'd have enough to do.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Very true,' said the undertaker; 'they would indeed.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Juries,' said Mr. Bumble, grasping his cane tightly, as was
-his wont when working into a passion—'juries is ineddicated,
-vulgar, grovelling wretches.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'So they are,' said the undertaker.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'They haven't no more philosophy or political economy about
-'em than that,' said the beadle, snapping his fingers contemptuously.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No more they have,' acquiesced the undertaker.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I despise 'em,' said the beadle, growing very red in the face.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'So do I,' rejoined the undertaker.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And I only wish we'd a jury of the independent sort in the
-house for a week or two,' said the beadle; 'the rules and regulations
-of the board would soon bring their spirit down for them.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Let'em alone for that,' replied the undertaker. So saying,
-he smiled approvingly to calm the rising wrath of the indignant
-parish officer.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Bumble lifted off his cocked-hat, took a handkerchief
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
-from the inside of the crown, wiped from his forehead the perspiration
-which his rage had engendered, fixed the cocked hat on
-again, and, turning to the undertaker, said in a calmer voice,
-'Well, what about the boy?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Oh!' replied the undertaker; 'why, you know, Mr. Bumble,
-I pay a good deal toward the poor's rates.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Hem!' said Mr. Bumble. 'Well?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well,' replied the undertaker, 'I was thinking that if I pay
-so much toward 'em, I've a right to get as much out of 'em as I
-can, Mr. Bumble; and so—and so—I think I'll take the boy
-myself.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Bumble grasped the undertaker by the arm and led him
-into the building. Mr. Sowerberry was closeted with the board
-for five minutes, and then it was arranged that Oliver should go
-to him that evening 'upon liking'—a phrase which means, in the
-case of a parish apprentice, that if the master find, upon a short
-trial, that he can get enough work out of a boy without putting
-too much food in him, he shall have him for a term of years to
-do what he likes with.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"When little Oliver was taken before 'the gentlemen' that
-evening, and informed that he was to go that night as general
-house-lad to a coffin-maker's, and that if he complained of his
-situation, or ever came back to the parish again, he would be sent
-to sea, there to be drowned or knocked on the head, as the case
-might be, he evinced so little emotion, that they by common consent
-pronounced him a hardened young rascal, and ordered Mr.
-Bumble to remove him forthwith."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Some years ago an investigation into the treatment
-of the poor in St. Pancras workhouse was made. It
-originated in the suicide of a girl, who, having left her
-place, drowned herself rather than return to the workhouse
-to be confined in the "shed"—a place of confinement
-for refractory and ill-disposed paupers. The unanimous
-verdict of the coroner's jury was to this effect,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>
-and had appended to it an opinion that the discipline
-of the shed was unnecessarily severe. This verdict led
-to an investigation.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Howarth, senior churchwarden, a guardian, and
-a barrister, explained that the shed was used for separating
-able-bodied, idle, and dissolute paupers from the
-aged and respectable inmates of the house. The shed
-was not, he declared, a place of confinement any more
-than the workhouse itself. The place in question consists
-of two rooms, a day-room and a dormitory, on the
-basement of the main building, two feet below the level
-of the soil, each about thirty-five feet long by fifteen
-wide and seven high. The bedroom contains ten beds,
-occupied sometimes by sixteen, sometimes by twenty or
-twenty-four paupers. According to the hospital calculation
-of a cube of nine feet to an occupant, the dormitory
-should accommodate six persons. The damp from
-an adjoining cesspool oozes through the walls. This
-pleasant apartment communicates with a yard forty feet
-long, and from fifteen to twenty broad, with a flagged
-pavement and high walls. This yard is kept always
-locked. But it is not a place of confinement. Oh no!
-it is a place of separation.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Let us see the evidence of James Hill, who waits on
-the occupants of the shed:—"They are locked up night
-and day. They frequently escape over the walls. They
-are put in for misconduct."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Lee, the master of the workhouse, declares that
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>
-if the persons in the shed make application to come out,
-they are frequently released. He is "not aware if he
-has any legal right to refuse them, but does sometimes
-exercise that authority." One of the women is there
-for throwing her clothes over the wall; another for
-getting "overtaken in liquor" while out of the house,
-and losing her pail and brush. A third inmate is a girl
-of weak intellect, who went out for a day, was made
-drunk and insensible by a male pauper, and suffered
-dreadful maltreatment.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">All the pauper witnesses represent the shed as a place
-of punishment. The six ounces of meat given three
-times a week by the dietary, is reduced to four ounces
-for the shed paupers. Still all this, in Mr. Howarth's
-eyes, neither constitutes the shed a place of confinement
-nor of punishment. It is a place of separation. So is
-a prison. It is a prison in a prison; a lower depth in
-the lowest deep of workhouse wretchedness and restraint.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Are we to be told that this is "classification," (as
-the report of the directors impudently calls it,) by which
-the young and old, imbecile and drunken, sickly and
-turbulent, are shut up together day and night picking
-oakum; looking out through the heavy day on the bare
-walls of their wretched yard—at night breathing their
-own fœtid exhalations and the miasma of a cesspool,
-twenty-four of them sometimes in a space only fit to
-accommodate six with due regard to health and decency?
-And all this at the arbitrary will of master or matron,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>
-unchecked by the board! One poor creature had been
-there for three years. She had not come out because
-"she was in such bad health, and had nowhere to go."
-Yet she was shut up, because she was considered able
-bodied and fit for work, when her appearance belied it,
-and spoke her broken spirit and shattered constitution.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. W. Lee, guardian, seemed blessed with an unusual
-amount of ignorance as to his legal powers and responsibilities.
-He kept no account of persons confined in
-the black-hole, for forty-eight hours sometimes, and
-without directions from the board. He thought the
-matron had power to put paupers in the strong room.
-On one point he was certain: he "had no doubt that
-persons have been confined without his orders." He
-"had no doubt that he had received instructions from
-the board about the refractory ward, but he does not
-know where to find them." "If any paupers committed
-to the ward feel aggrieved, they can apply to be released,
-and he had no doubt he would release them." He made
-no weekly report of punishments. He reigned supreme,
-monarch of all he surveyed, wielding the terrors of shed
-and black-hole unquestioned and unchecked.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In Miss Stone, the matron, he had a worthy coadjutrix.
-The lady felt herself very much "degraded" by
-the coroner's jury. They asked her some most inconvenient
-questions, to which she gave awkwardly ready
-answers. She confined to the shed a girl who returned
-from place, though she admitted the work of the place
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>
-was too much for her. She confessed she might have
-punished Jones (the suicide) by putting her in the black-hole;
-but it was a mere trifle—"only a few hours" in
-an underground cell, "perhaps from morning till night,
-for refusing to do some domestic service." Jones was
-helpless; her mistress brought her back to the workhouse.
-Jones cried, and begged to be taken back to
-service, offering to work for nothing. Her recollections
-of the workhouse do not seem to have been pleasant.
-Hard work, unpaid; suicide; any thing rather than the
-shed.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">A precious testimony to the St. Pancras system of
-"classification!" These paupers in the shed are clearly
-a refractory set. "They complain of being shut up
-so long." "They say they would like more bread and
-more meat." Audacious as Oliver Twist! They even
-complain of the damp and bad smell. Ungrateful, dainty
-wretches! On the whole, as Mr. Howarth says, it is
-evidently "unjust to suppose that the system of separation
-adopted in the house is regarded as a mode of punishment."
-The directors issued a solemn summons to
-the members of the parochial medical board. District
-surgeons and consulting surgeons assembled, inspected
-the shed, and pronounced it a very pleasant place if the
-roof were higher, and if the ventilation were better, and
-if the damp were removed, and if fewer slept in a bed,
-and six instead of twenty-four in the room. They then
-examined the dietary, and pronounced it sufficient if
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>
-the allowances were of full weight, if the meat were of
-the best quality, if there were plenty of milk in the
-porridge, and if the broth were better. Great virtue
-in an "if!" Unhappily, in the present case, the allowances
-were not full weight; the meat not of the best
-quality; there is not milk enough in the porridge; and
-the broth might be very much better, and yet not good.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Cooper, the parish surgeon, was a special object
-of antipathy to the worthy and humane Howarth; he
-was one of those ridiculously particular men, unfit to
-deal with paupers. He actually objected to the pauper
-women performing their ablutions in the urinals, and
-felt aggrieved when the master told him to "mind his
-shop," and Howarth stood by without rebuking the
-autocrat! Mr. Cooper, too, admits that the dietary
-would be sufficient with all the above-mentioned "ifs."
-But he finds that the milk porridge contains one quart
-of milk to six of oat-meal; that the meat is half fat, and
-often uneatable from imperfect cooking; and that the
-frequent stoppages of diet are destructive of the health
-of the younger inmates. His remonstrances, however,
-have been received in a style that has read him a lesson,
-and he ceases to remonstrate accordingly, and the guardians
-have it as they would—a silent surgeon and an
-omnipotent master.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The saddest part of the farce, however, was that of
-the last day's proceedings. The quality and quantity
-of the diet had been discussed; the directors felt bound
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>
-to examine into both; so they proceeded to the house.
-Of course the master knew nothing of the intended visit.
-Who can suspect the possibility of such a thing after
-the previous display of Howarth's impartiality and determination
-to do justice? So to the house they went.
-They took the excellent Lee quite by surprise, and enjoyed
-parish pot-luck. Dr. Birmingham's description
-makes one's mouth water:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"He came to the house on Saturday, in order to examine the
-food; he found that, on that day, the inmates had what was called
-ox-cheek soup; he tasted it, and he was so well satisfied with it
-that he took all that was given to him. He then went into the
-kitchen, and saw the master cutting up meat for the sick and
-infirm. He tasted the mutton, and found it as succulent and as
-good as that which he purchased for his own consumption."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The picture of this patriarchal and benevolent master
-"cutting up meat for the sick and infirm," is perfectly
-beautiful. Howarth, too, did his duty, and was equally
-lucky.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Howarth stated that he had visited the house yesterday,
-and had examined the food, with the quality of which he was
-perfectly satisfied. He tasted the soup, and was so well pleased
-with it that he obtained an allowance. (A laugh.)"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">But not satisfied with this, that Rhadamanthus of a
-Birmingham proposed a crucial test.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"He begged to move that the master of the workhouse be desired
-to bring before the board the ordinary rations allowed the
-paupers for breakfast, dinner, and supper; and that any gentleman
-present be allowed to call and examine any of the paupers
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>
-as to whether the food they usually received was of the same
-quality, and in the same quantity."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The rations were produced; "and, lo! the porridge
-smoked upon the board." Thus it was, in tempting and
-succulent array—the pauper bill of fare:—</p>
-
-<table class="narrow" id="BILL_OF_FARE" summary="Pauper Bill of Fare">
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-1"></td>
- <td class="c1-1"></td>
- <td class="c1-1">Soup.</td>
- <td class="c1-1"></td>
- <td class="c1-1"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-1">Cheese.</td>
- <td class="c1-1"></td>
- <td class="c1-1">Pease porridge.</td>
- <td class="c1-1"></td>
- <td class="c1-1">Potatoes.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-1"></td>
- <td class="c1-1">Meat.</td>
- <td class="c1-1"></td>
- <td class="c1-1">Beer.</td>
- <td class="c1-1"></td>
- </tr>
- </table>
-
-<p class="i1">Nothing can be more tempting; who would not be a
-pauper of St. Pancras? Six paupers are called in, and
-one and all testify that the rations of meat, potatoes,
-soup, and porridge are better in quality and greater in
-quantity than the workhouse allowance. There is a
-slight pause. Birmingham looks blank at Howarth, and
-Howarth gazes uneasily on Birmingham; but it is only
-for a minute: ready wits jump:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"<i>Dr. Birmingham.</i> This is the allowance for Sunday.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"<i>Mr. Marley.</i> I understand there is no difference between the
-allowance on Sunday and on any other day.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"<i>Mr. Howarth.</i> They have better meat on Sundays."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">What follows this glaring exposure? Impeachment
-of the master, on this clear proof of malversation in the
-house and dishonesty before the board? So expects
-Mr. Halton, and very naturally suggests that Mr. Lee
-be called on for an explanation. Mr. Lee is not called
-on, and no explanation takes place. The room is cleared,
-and, after an hour and a half's discussion, a report is
-unanimously agreed to. Our readers may anticipate its
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>
-tenour. It finds that there is no place deserving to be
-called the shed; that the rooms so called are very admirable
-places of "separation" for refractory paupers;
-that the diet is excellent; that every thing is as it ought
-to be. It recommends that reports of punishments be
-more regularly made to the board, that classification of
-old and young be improved, and that some little change
-be made in the ventilation of the refractory wards!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">And so concludes this sad farce of the St. Pancras
-investigation. One more disgraceful to the guardians
-cannot be found even in the pregnant annals of workhouse
-mismanagement.<a name="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Farming out" paupers, especially children, is one
-of the most prolific sources of misery among the
-English poor who are compelled to appeal to the
-parish authorities. This practice consists of entering
-into contracts with individuals to supply the paupers
-with food, clothing, and lodging. The man who offers
-to perform the work for the smallest sum commonly
-gets the contract, and then the poor wretches who look
-to him for the necessaries of life must submit to all
-kinds of treatment, and be stinted in every thing.
-During the last visit of that scourge, the cholera, to
-England, a large number of farmed pauper children
-were crowded, by one Mr. Drouet, a contractor, into a
-close and filthy building, where they nearly all perished.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>
-An investigation was subsequently held, but influential
-persons screened the authors of this tragedy from
-justice. During the investigation, it was clearly shown
-that the children confided to the care of Mr. Drouet
-were kept in a state of filth and semi-starvation.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">So much for the boasted charity of the dominant
-class in Great Britain! By its enormous drain upon
-the public purse, and its vast monopoly of that soil
-which was given for the use of all, it creates millions
-of paupers—wretches without homes, without resources,
-and almost without hope; and then, to prevent themselves
-from being hurled from their high and luxurious
-places, and from being devoured as by ravenous wolves,
-they take the miserable paupers in hand, separate
-families, shut them up, as in the worst of prisons, and
-give them something to keep life in their bodies.
-Then the lords and ladies ask the world to admire their
-charitable efforts. What they call charity is the offspring
-of fear!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">A member of the humbler classes in England no
-sooner begins to exist, than the probability of his becoming
-a pauper is contemplated by the laws. A writer
-in Chambers's Journal says, in regard to this point—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Chargeability is the English slave system. The poor man
-cannot go where he lists in search of employment—he may become
-chargeable. He cannot take a good place which may be
-offered to him, for he cannot get a residence, lest he become
-chargeable. Houses are pulled down over the ears of honest
-working-men, and decent poor people are driven from Dan to
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>
-Beersheba, lest they become chargeable. There is something infinitely
-distressing in the whole basis of this idea—that an English
-peasant must needs be regarded from his first breath, and all
-through life, as a possible pauper. But the positive hardships
-arising from the idea are what we have at present to deal with.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"These are delineated in a happy collection of facts lately
-brought forward by Mr. Chadwick at a meeting of the Farmers'
-Club in London. It appears that the company assembled, who,
-from their circumstances, were all qualified to judge of the truth
-of the facts and the soundness of the conclusions, gave a general
-assent to what was said by the learned poor-law secretary. Unfortunately,
-we can only give a few passages from this very remarkable
-speech.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Chadwick first referred to the operation of the existing
-law upon <i>unsettled</i> labouring men. 'The lower districts of Reading
-were severely visited with fever during the last year, which
-called attention to the sanitary condition of the labouring population.
-I was requested to visit it. While making inquiries
-upon the subject, I learned that some of the worst-conditioned
-places were occupied by agricultural labourers. Many of them,
-it appeared, walked four, six, seven, and even eight miles, in wet
-and snow, to and from their places of work, after twelve hours'
-work on the farm. Why, however, were agricultural labourers
-in these fever-nests of a town? I was informed, in answer, that
-they were driven in there by the pulling down of cottages, to
-avoid parochial settlements and contributions to their maintenance
-in the event of destitution. Among a group, taken as an
-example there, in a wretched place consisting of three rooms, ten
-feet long, lived Stephen Turner, a wife, and three children. He
-walked to and from his place of work about seven miles daily,
-expending two hours and a half in walking before he got to his
-productive work on the farm. His wages are 10<i>s.</i> a week, out
-of which he pays 2<i>s.</i> for his wretched tenement. If he were resident
-on the farm, the two and a half hours of daily labour spent
-in walking might be expended in productive work; his labour
-would be worth, according to his own account, and I believe to a
-farmer's acknowledgment, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> per week more. For a rent of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>
-£5 5<i>s.</i>, such as he now pays, he would be entitled to a good cottage
-with a garden; and his wife and children being near, would
-be available for the farm labour. So far as I could learn there
-are between one hundred and two hundred agricultural labourers
-living in the borough of Reading, and the numbers are increasing.
-The last week brought to my notice a fact illustrative of
-the present unjust state of things, so far as regards the labourer.
-A man belonging to Maple-Durham lived in Reading; walked
-about four miles a day to his work, the same back, frequently
-getting wet; took fever, and continued ill some time, assisted by
-the Reading Union in his illness; recovered, and could have returned
-to his former employment of 10<i>s.</i> per week, but found he
-was incapable of walking the distance; the consequence was, he
-took work that only enabled him to earn 5<i>s.</i> per week; he is now
-again unable to work. Even in Lincolnshire, where the agriculture
-is of a high order, and the wages of the labourer consequently
-not of the lowest, similar displacements have been made,
-to the prejudice of the farmer as well as the labourer, and, as will
-be seen, of the owner himself. Near Gainsborough, Lincoln, and
-Louth, the labourers walk even longer distances than near Reading.
-I am informed of instances where they walk as far as six
-miles; that is, twelve miles daily, or seventy-two miles weekly,
-to and from their places of work. Let us consider the bare
-economy, the mere waste of labour, and what a state of agricultural
-management is indicated by the fact that such a waste can
-have taken place. Fifteen miles a day is the regular march of
-infantry soldiers, with two rest-days—one on Monday, and one
-on Thursday; twenty-four miles is a forced march. The man
-who expends eight miles per diem, or forty-eight miles per week,
-expends to the value of at least two days' hard labour per week,
-or one hundred in the year, uselessly, that might be expended
-usefully and remuneratively in production. How different is it
-in manufactories, and in some of the mines, or at least in the
-best-managed and most successful of them! In some mines as
-much as £2000 and £3000 is paid for new machinery to benefit
-the labourers, and save them the labour of ascending and descending
-by ladders. In many manufactories they have hoists to
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>
-raise them and their loads from lower to upper rooms, to save
-them the labour of toiling up stairs, to economize their strength
-for piece-work to mutual advantage. It is not in county and
-borough towns only that this unwholesome over-crowding is going
-on. I am informed that from the like cause the evil of over-crowding
-is going on in the ill-conditioned villages of open parishes.
-It is admitted, and made manifest in extensive evidence given before
-a committee of the house of lords by practical farmers, that
-when an agricultural labourer applies for work, the first question
-put to him is, not what has been his experience, what can he do,
-but to what parish does he belong. If he do not belong to the
-parish of the occupier, the reply is usually an expression of regret
-that he can only employ the labourer of his own parish. To
-the extent to which the farmer is directly liable to the payment
-of rates, by the displacement of a settled parish labourer, he is
-liable to a penalty for the employment of any other labourer who
-is not of the parish. To the same extent is he liable to a penalty
-if he do not employ a parish labourer who is worthless, though
-a superior labourer may be got by going farther a-field, to whom
-he would give better wages. This labourer who would go farther
-is thus driven back upon his parish; that is to say, imposed, and
-at the same time made dependent, upon the two or three or several
-farmers, by whom the parish is occupied. He then says, 'If
-this or that farmer will not employ me, one of them must; if
-none of them will, the parish must keep me, and the parish pay
-is as good as any.' Labour well or ill, he will commonly get
-little more, and it is a matter of indifference to him: it is found
-to be, in all its essential conditions, labour without hope—slave
-labour; and he is rendered unworthy of his hire. On the other
-hand, in what condition does the law place the employer? It
-imposes upon him the whole mass of labourers of a narrow district,
-of whatsoever sort, without reference to his wants or his
-capital. He says, 'I do not want the men at this time, or these
-men are not suitable to me; they will not do the work I want;
-but if I must have them, or pay for keeping them in idleness if I
-do not employ them, why, then, I can only give them such wages
-as their labour is worth to me, and that is little.' Hence wages
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
-are inevitably reduced. What must be the effect upon the manufacturer
-if he were placed in the same position as tenant farmers
-are in the smaller parishes in the southern counties, if he were
-restricted to the employment only of the labourers in the parish?—if,
-before he engaged a smith, a carpenter, or a mason, he were
-compelled to inquire, 'To what parish do you belong?' Why,
-that the 24<i>s.</i> a week labour would fall to 12<i>s.</i> or 10<i>s.</i>, or the price
-of agricultural labour. Agriculturists from northern districts,
-who work their farms with 12<i>s.</i> and 15<i>s.</i> a week free labour, have
-declined the temptation of low rents, to take farms in parishes
-where the wages are 7<i>s.</i> or 8<i>s.</i> a week. While inspecting a farm
-in one of these pauperized districts, an able agriculturist could not
-help noticing the slow, drawling motions of one of the labourers
-there, and said, 'My man, you do not sweat at that work,' 'Why,
-no, master,' was the reply; 'seven shillings a week isn't sweating
-wages,' The evidence I have cited indicates the circumstances
-which prevent the adoption of piece-work, and which,
-moreover, restrict the introduction of machinery into agricultural
-operations, which, strange though it may appear to many, is
-greatly to the injury of the working classes; for wherever agricultural
-labour is free, and machinery has been introduced, there
-more and higher-paid labour is required, and labourers are
-enabled to go on and earn good wages by work with machines
-long after their strength has failed them for working by hand.
-In free districts, and with high cultivation by free and skilled
-labour, I can adduce instances of skilled agricultural labourers
-paid as highly as artisans. I could adduce an instance, bordering
-upon Essex, where the owner, working it with common parish
-labour at 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, a day, could not make it pay; and an able
-farmer now works it with free labour, at 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, 3<i>s.</i>, and
-3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, and even more, per day, for task-work, and, there is
-reason to believe, makes it pay well. A farmer, who died
-not long ago immensely wealthy, was wont to say that 'he
-could not live upon poor 2<i>s.</i> a day labour; he could not make his
-money upon less than half-crowners.' The freedom of labour,
-not only in the northern counties, but in some places near the
-slave-labour districts of the southern counties, is already attended
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>
-with higher wages—at the rate of 12<i>s.</i>, 14<i>s.</i>, and 15<i>s.</i> weekly.
-In such counties as Berks and Bedford, the freedom of the labour
-market, when it came into full operation, could not raise wages
-less than 2<i>s.</i> a week; and 2<i>s.</i> a week would, in those counties,
-represent a sum of productive expenditure and increased produce
-equal to the whole amount of unproductive expenditure on the
-poor-rates.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">By this arrangement of parochial settlement, the
-English agricultural labourer has a compulsory residence,
-like that of the American slave upon the plantation
-where he is born. This, therefore, is one of the
-most striking manifestations of the peasant being a
-serf. A free and beautiful system is that of the
-English Unions!</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p>
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">IMPRESSMENT, OR KIDNAPPING WHITE MEN FOR SLAVES
-IN THE NAVAL SERVICE.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">One</span> of the most repulsive features of the general
-system of slavery in Great Britain, is called impressment.
-It is the forcible removal of seamen from their
-ordinary employment, and compelling them to serve,
-against their will, in the ships of war. Long ago,
-some of the maritime nations condemned men to the
-galleys for crime. But Great Britain dooms peaceable
-and unoffending men to her vessels of war, severs all
-the ties of home and kindred, and outrages every principle
-of justice, in this practice of impressment. The
-husband is torn from his wife, the father from his children,
-the brother from the sister, by the press-gangs—the
-slave-hunters of Britain.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_257.jpg" id="i_257.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_257.jpg"
- alt="" />
- <div class="caption">KIDNAPPING OF WILLIE MORRISON.</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">This practice is not expressly sanctioned by any act
-of Parliament, but it is so, indirectly, by the numerous
-statutes that have been passed granting exemptions
-from it. According to Lord Mansfield, it is "a power
-founded upon immemorial usage," and is understood to
-make a part of the common law. All <i>seafaring</i> men
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
-are liable to impressment, unless specially protected by
-custom or statute. Seamen executing particular services
-for government, not unfrequently get protections
-from the Admiralty, Navy Board, &c. Some are exempted
-by local custom; and <i>ferrymen</i> are everywhere
-privileged from impressment. The statutory exemptions
-are as follows:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">I. <i>Every ship in the coal-trade</i> has the following persons protected,
-viz. two able seamen (such as the master shall nominate)
-for every ship of one hundred tons, and one for every fifty tons
-for every ship of one hundred tons and upward; and every officer
-who presumes to impress any of the above, shall forfeit, to the
-master or owner of such vessel, £10 for every man so impressed;
-and such officers shall be incapable of holding any place, office,
-or employment in any of his majesty's ships of war.—6 and 7
-Will. 3, c. 18, § 19.<a name="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">II. <i>No parish apprentice</i> shall be compelled or permitted to enter
-into his majesty's sea-service, until he arrives at the age of
-eighteen years.—2 and 3 Anne, c. 6, § 4.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">III. Persons voluntarily binding themselves apprentices to sea-service,
-shall not be impressed for three years from the date of
-their indentures. [This is a protection for the master—not for
-the parish apprentice.] But no persons above eighteen years of
-age shall have any exemption or protection from his majesty's
-service, if they have been at sea before they became apprentices.—2
-and 3 Anne, c. 6, § 15; 4 Anne, c. 19, § 17; and 13 Geo. 2,
-c. 17, § 2.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">IV. <i>Apprentices.</i>—The act 4 Geo. 4, c. 25, enacts some new
-regulations with respect to the number of apprentices that ships
-must have on board, according to their tonnage, and grants protection
-to such apprentices till they have attained the age of
-twenty-one years.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">V. <i>Persons employed in the fisheries.</i>—The act 50 Geo. 3, c. 108,
-grants the following exemptions from impressment, viz.:</p>
-
-<p class="i1">1. <i>Masters of fishing vessels or boats</i>, who, either themselves or
-their owners, have, or within six months before applying for a
-protection shall have had, one apprentice or more, under sixteen
-years of age, bound for five years, and employed in the business
-of fishing.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">2. All such apprentices, not exceeding <i>eight</i> to every master or
-owner of any fishing vessel of fifty tons or upward; not exceeding
-<i>seven</i> to every vessel or boat of thirty-five tons, and under
-fifty; not exceeding <i>six</i> to every vessel of thirty tons, or under
-thirty-five; and not exceeding <i>four</i> to every boat under thirty
-tons burden, during the time of their apprenticeship, and till the
-age of twenty years; they continuing, for the time, in the business
-of fishing only.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">3. <i>One mariner</i>, besides the master and apprentices, to every
-fishing vessel of one hundred tons or upward, employed on the
-sea-coast, during his continuance in such service.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">4. <i>Any landsman</i>, above the age of eighteen, entering and employed
-on board such vessel for two years from his first going to
-sea and to the end of the voyage then engaged in, if he so long
-continue in such service. [The ignorance of a landsman seems
-to be the only reason for this exemption.]</p>
-
-<p class="i1">An affidavit sworn before a justice of the peace, containing the
-tonnage of such fishing vessel or boat, the port or place to which
-she belongs, the name and description of the master, the age of
-every apprentice, the term for which he is bound and the date of
-his indenture, and the name, age, and description of every such
-mariner and landsman respectively, and the time of such landsman's
-first going to sea, is to be transmitted to the Admiralty;
-who, upon finding the facts correctly stated, grant a separate protection
-to every individual. In case, however, "<i>of an actual invasion
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>
-of these kingdoms, or imminent danger thereof</i>," such protected
-persons may be impressed; but except upon such an emergency,
-any officer or officers impressing such protected person,
-shall respectively forfeit £20 to the party impressed, if not an
-apprentice, or to his master if he be an apprentice.—§§ 2, 3, 4
-[The phrase, "imminent danger of invasion," is susceptible of
-a wide interpretation for the purposes of tyranny.]</p>
-
-<p class="i1">VI. <i>General exemptions.</i>—All persons fifty-five years of age and
-upward, and under eighteen years. Every person being a
-foreigner, who shall serve in any merchant ship, or other trading
-vessels or privateers, belonging to a subject of the crown of
-Great Britain; and all persons, of what age soever, who shall use
-the sea, shall be protected for two years, to be computed from the
-time of their first using it.—13 Geo. 2, c. 17. [The impressment
-of American seamen, before the war of 1812, shows how easily
-these exemptions may be disregarded.]</p>
-
-<p class="i1">VII. <i>Harpooners</i>, line-managers, or boat-steerers, engaged in
-the Southern whale fishery, are also protected.—26 Geo. 3,
-c. 50.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">VIII. <i>Mariners employed in the herring fisheries</i> are exempted
-while actually employed.—48 Geo. 3, c. 110.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The practice of impressment," says McCulloch, "so subversive
-of every principle of justice, is vindicated on the alleged
-ground of its being absolutely necessary to the manning of the
-fleet. But this position, notwithstanding the confidence with
-which it has been taken up, is not quite so tenable as has been
-supposed. The difficulties experienced in procuring sailors for
-the fleet at the breaking out of a war are not natural, but artificial,
-and might be got rid of by a very simple arrangement. During
-peace, not more than a fourth or fifth part of the seamen are retained
-in his majesty's service that are commonly required during
-war; and, if peace continue for a few years, the total number of
-sailors in the king's and the merchant service is limited to that
-which is merely adequate to supply the reduced demand of the
-former and the ordinary demand of the latter. When, therefore,
-war is declared, and 30,000 or 40,000 additional seamen are wanted
-for the fleet, they cannot be obtained, unless by withdrawing them
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>
-from the merchant service, which has not more than its complement
-of hands. But to do this by offering the seamen higher
-wages would be next to impossible, and would, supposing it were
-practicable, impose such a sacrifice upon the public as could
-hardly be borne. And hence, it is said, the necessity of impressment,
-a practice which every one admits can be justified on no
-other ground than that of its being absolutely essential to the
-public safety. It is plain, however, that a necessity of this kind
-may be easily obviated. All, in fact, that is necessary for this
-purpose, is merely to keep such a number of sailors in his majesty's
-service during peace, as may suffice, with the ordinary
-proportion of landsmen and boys, to man the fleet at the breaking
-out of a war. Were this done, there would not be the shadow of
-a pretence for resorting to impressment; and the practice, with
-the cruelty and injustice inseparable from it, might be entirely
-abolished.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But it is said that, though desirable in many respects, the
-<i>expense</i> of such a plan will always prevent its being adopted. It
-admits, however, of demonstration, that instead of being dearer,
-this plan would be actually cheaper than that which is now followed.
-Not more than 1,000,000<i>l.</i> or 1,200,000<i>l.</i> a year would be
-required to be added to the navy estimates, and that would not be
-a real, but merely a nominal advance. The violence and injustice
-to which the practice of impressment exposes sailors operates at
-all times to raise their wages, by creating a disinclination on the
-part of many young men to enter the sea-service; and this disinclination
-is vastly increased during war, when wages usually rise
-to four or five times their previous amount, imposing a burden on
-the commerce of the country, exclusive of other equally mischievous
-consequences, many times greater than the tax that would be
-required to keep up the peace establishment of the navy to its
-proper level. It is really, therefore, a vulgar error to suppose
-that impressment has the recommendation of cheapness in its
-favour; and, though it had, no reasonable man will contend that
-that is the only, or even the principal, circumstance to be attended
-to. In point of fact, however, it is as costly as it is oppressive
-and unjust."</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">These remarks are creditable to the good sense and
-humanity of McCulloch; but are too much devoted to
-the <i>expediency</i> of outrage. To speak more clearly, the
-discussion is conducted in too cool-blooded a style. We
-defy any man of ordinary sensibility to read the accounts
-of scenes attending many cases of impressment,
-without feeling the deepest pity for the enslaved seaman
-and his bereaved relatives and friends, and burning
-with indignation at the heartless tyranny displayed by
-the government. After a long and laborious voyage in
-a merchant vessel, the sun-burned seamen arrives in
-sight of home. His wife and children, who have long
-bewailed his absence and feared for his fate, stand,
-with joyous countenances, upon the shore, eager to
-embrace the returned wanderer. Perhaps a government
-vessel, on the search for seaman, then sends its
-barbarous press-gang aboard the merchantman, and
-forces the husband and father once more from the presence
-of the beloved ones. Or, he is permitted to land.
-He visits his home, and is just comfortably settled, resolved
-to pass the rest of his days with his family, when
-the gang tears him from their arms—and years—long,
-dragging years will pass away before he will be allowed
-to return. Then, the wife may be dead, the children at
-the mercy of the parish. This is English freedom! A
-gang of manacled negroes shocks humanity, and calls
-down the vengeance of heaven upon the head of the
-slave-driver; but a press-gang may perform its heart-rending
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>
-work in perfect consistency with the free and
-glorious institutions of Britain.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">By far the most thrilling narrative of the scenes
-attending impressments, with which we are acquainted,
-is to be found in the romance of "Katie Stewart," published
-in Blackwood's Magazine, without the author's
-name. We quote:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The next day was the Sabbath, and Willie Morison, with his
-old mother leaning on his arm, reverently deposited his silver half-crown
-in the plate at the door of West Anster Church, an offering
-of thankfulness, for the parish poor. There had been various
-returns during the previous week; a brig from the Levant, and
-another from Riga—where, with its cargo of hemp, it had been
-frozen in all the winter—had brought home each their proportion
-of welcome family fathers, and young sailor men, like Willie Morison
-himself, to glad the eyes of friends and kindred. One of
-these was the son of that venerable elder in the lateran, who rose
-to read the little notes which the thanksgivers had handed to him
-at the door; and Katie Stewart's eyes filled as the old man's slow
-voice, somewhat moved by reading his son's name just before,
-intimated to the waiting congregation before him, and to the
-minister in the pulpit behind, also waiting to include all these in
-his concluding prayer, that William Morison gave thanks for his
-safe return.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"And then there came friendly greetings as the congregation
-streamed out through the churchyard, and the soft, hopeful sunshine
-of spring threw down a bright flickering network of light
-and shade through the soft foliage on the causewayed street;—peaceful
-people going to secure and quiet homes—families joyfully
-encircling the fathers or brothers for whose return they had
-just rendered thanks out of full hearts, and peace upon all and
-over all, as broad as the skies and as calm.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But as the stream of people pours again in the afternoon from
-the two neighbour churches, what is this gradual excitement which
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>
-manifests itself among them? Hark! there is the boom of a gun
-plunging into all the echoes; and crowds of mothers and sisters
-cling about these young sailors, and almost struggle with them,
-to hurry them home. Who is that hastening to the pier, with his
-staff clenched in his hand, and his white 'haffit locks' streaming
-behind him? It is the reverend elder who to-day returned thanks
-for his restored son. The sight of him—the sound of that second-gun
-pealing from the Firth puts the climax on the excitement of
-the people, and now, in a continuous stream from the peaceful
-churchyard gates, they flow toward the pier and the sea.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Eagerly running along by the edge of the rocks, at a pace
-which, on another Sabbath, she would have thought a desecration
-of the day, clinging to Willie Morison's arm, and with an anxious
-heart, feeling her presence a kind of protection to him, Katie
-Stewart hastens to the Billy Ness. The gray pier of Anster is
-lined with anxious faces, and here and there a levelled telescope
-under the care of some old shipmaster attracts round it a still
-deeper, still more eager knot of spectators. The tide is out, and
-venturous lads are stealing along the sharp low ranges of rock,
-slipping now and then with incautious steps into the little clear
-pools of sea-water which surround them; for their eyes are not on
-their own uncertain footing, but fixed, like the rest, on that visible
-danger up the Firth, in which all feel themselves concerned.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Already there are spectators, and another telescope on the
-Billy Ness, and the whole range of 'the braes' between Anstruther
-and Pittenweem is dotted with anxious lookers-on; and the
-far away pier of Pittenweem, too, is dark with its little crowd.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"What is the cause! Not far from the shore, just where that
-headland, which hides you from the deep indentation of Largo
-Bay, juts out upon the Firth, lies a little vessel, looking like a
-diminutive Arabian horse, or one of the aristocratic young slight
-lads who are its officers, with high blood, training, and courage in
-every tight line of its cordage and taper stretch of its masts.
-Before it, arrested in its way, lies a helpless merchant brig, softly
-swaying on the bright mid-waters of the Firth, with the cutter's
-boat rapidly approaching its side.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Another moment and it is boarded; a very short interval of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>
-silence, and again the officer—you can distinguish him with that
-telescope, by his cocked hat, and the flash which the scabbard of
-his sword throws on the water as he descends the vessel's side—has
-re-entered the cutter's boat. Heavily the boat moves through
-the water now, crowded with pressed men—poor writhing hearts,
-whose hopes of home-coming and peace have been blighted in a
-moment; captured, some of them, in sight of their homes, and
-under the anxious, straining eyes of wives and children, happily
-too far off to discern their full calamity.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"A low moan comes from the lips of that poor woman, who,
-wringing her hands and rocking herself to and fro, with the unconscious
-movement of extreme pain, looks pitifully in Willie
-Morison's face, as he fixes the telescope on the scene. She is
-reading the changes of its expression, as if her sentence was
-there; but he says nothing, though the very motion of his hand,
-as he steadies the glass, attracts, like something of occult significance,
-the agonized gaze which dwells upon him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Captain, captain!' she cried at last, softly pulling his coat,
-and with unconscious art using the new title: 'Captain, is't the
-Traveller? Can ye make her out? She has a white figure-head
-at her bows, and twa white lines round her side. Captain, captain!
-tell me for pity's sake!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Another long keen look was bent on the brig, as slowly and
-disconsolately she resumed her onward way.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No, Peggie,' said the young sailor, looking round to meet her
-eye, and to comfort his companion, who stood trembling by his
-side: 'No, Peggie—make yourself easy; it's no the Traveller.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The poor woman seated herself on the grass, and, supporting
-her head on her hands, wiped from her pale cheek tears of relief
-and thankfulness.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'God be thanked! and oh! God pity thae puir creatures, and
-their wives, and their little anes. I think I have the hardest
-heart in a' the world, that can be glad when there's such misery
-in sight.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But dry your tears, poor Peggie Rodger—brace up your
-trembling heart again for another fiery trial; for here comes
-another white sail peacefully gliding up the Firth, with a flag
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>
-fluttering from the stern, and a white figure-head dashing aside
-the spray, which seems to embrace it joyfully, the sailors think,
-as out of the stormy seas it nears the welcome home. With a
-light step the captain walks the little quarter-deck—with light
-hearts the seamen lounge amidship, looking forth on the green
-hills of Fife. Dark grows the young sailor's face, as he watches
-the unsuspicious victim glide triumphantly up through the blue
-water into the undreaded snare; and a glance round, a slight
-contraction of those lines in his face which Katie Stewart, eagerly
-watching him, has never seen so strongly marked before, tells the
-poor wife on the grass enough to make her rise hysterically strong,
-and with her whole might gaze at the advancing ship; for, alas!
-one can doubt its identity no longer. The white lines on its side—the
-white figure-head among the joyous spray—and the Traveller
-dashes on, out of its icy prison in the northern harbour—out of
-its stormy ocean voyage—homeward bound!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Homeward bound! There is one yonder turning longing looks
-to Anster's quiet harbour as the ship sails past; carefully putting
-up in the coloured foreign baskets those little wooden toys which
-amused his leisure during the long dark winter among the ice,
-and thinking with involuntary smiles how his little ones will leap
-for joy as he divides the store. Put them up, good seaman, gentle
-father!—the little ones will be men and women before you look
-on them again.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"For already the echoes are startled, and the women here on
-shore shiver and wring their hands as the cutter's gun rings out
-its mandate to the passenger; and looking up the Firth you see
-nothing but a floating globe of white smoke, slowly breaking into
-long streamers, and almost entirely concealing the fine outline of
-the little ship of war. The challenged brig at first is doubtful—the
-alarmed captain does not understand the summons; but again
-another flash, another report, another cloud of white smoke, and
-the Traveller is brought to.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There are no tears on Peggie Rodger's haggard cheeks, but a
-convulsive shudder passes over her now and then, as, with intense
-strained eyes, she watches the cutter's boat as it crosses the Firth
-toward the arrested brig.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'God! an' it were sunk like lead!' said a passionate voice
-beside her, trembling with the desperate restraint of impotent
-strength.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'God help us!—God help us!—curse na them,' said the poor
-woman with an hysteric sob. 'Oh, captain, captain! gie <i>me</i> the
-glass; if they pit him in the boat <i>I'll</i> ken Davie—if naebody else
-would, I can—gie me the glass.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"He gave her the glass, and himself gladly turned away,
-trembling with the same suppressed rage and indignation which
-had dictated the other spectator's curse.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'If ane could but warn them wi' a word,' groaned Willie Morison,
-grinding his teeth—'if ane could but lift a finger! but to see
-them gang into the snare like innocents in the broad day—Katie,
-it's enough to pit a man mad!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But Katie's pitiful compassionate eyes were fixed on Peggie
-Rodger—on her white hollow cheeks, and on the convulsive steadiness
-with which she held the telescope in her hand.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'It's a fair wind into the Firth—there's another brig due.
-Katie, I canna stand and see this mair!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"He drew her hand through his arm, and unconsciously grasping
-it with a force which at another time would have made her
-cry with pain, led her a little way back toward the town. But
-the fascination of the scene was too great for him, painful as it
-was, and far away on the horizon glimmered another sail.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Willie!' exclaimed Katie Stewart, 'gar some of the Sillardyke
-men gang out wi' a boat—gar them row down by the coast,
-and then strike out in the Firth, and warn the men.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"He grasped her hand again, not so violently. 'Bless you,
-lassie! and wha should do your bidding but myself? but take
-care of yourself, Katie Stewart. What care I for a' the brigs in
-the world if any thing ails you? Gang hame, or'——</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I'll no stir a fit till you're safe back again. I'll never speak
-to you mair if ye say anither word. Be canny—be canny—but
-haste ye away.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Another moment, and Katie Stewart stands alone by Peggie
-Rodger's side, watching the eager face which seems to grow old
-and emaciated with this terrible vigil, as if these moments were
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>
-years; while the ground flies under the hounding feet of Willie
-Morison, and he answers the questions which are addressed to
-him, as to his errand, only while he himself continues at full
-speed to push eastward to Cellardyke.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"And the indistinct words which he calls back to his comrades,
-as he 'devours the way,' are enough to send racing after him an
-eager train of coadjutors; and with his bonnet off, and his hands,
-which tremble as with palsy, clasped convulsively together, the
-white-haired elder leans upon the wall of the pier, and bids God
-bless them, God speed them, with a broken voice, whose utterance
-comes in gasps and sobs; for he has yet another son upon the sea.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Meanwhile the cutter's boat has returned from the Traveller
-with its second load; and a kind bystander relieves the aching
-arms of poor Peggie Rodger of the telescope, in which now she
-has no further interest.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Gude kens, Gude kens,' said the poor woman slowly, as Katie
-strove to comfort her. 'I didna see him in the boat; but ane
-could see nothing but the wet oars flashing out of the water, and
-blinding folks e'en. What am I to do? Miss Katie, what am I
-to think? They maun have left some men in the ship to work
-her. Oh! God grant they have ta'en the young men, and no heads
-of families wi' bairns to toil for. But Davie's a buirdly man, just
-like ane to take an officer's ee. Oh, the Lord help us! for I'm
-just distraught, and kenna what to do.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"A faint cheer, instantly suppressed, rises from the point of
-the pier and the shelving coast beyond; and yonder now it glides
-along the shore, with wet oars gleaming out of the dazzling sunny
-water, the boat of the forlorn hope. A small, picked, chosen company
-bend to the oars, and Willie Morison is at the helm, warily
-guiding the little vessel over the rocks, as they shelter themselves
-in the shadow of the coast. On the horizon the coming sail flutters
-nearer, nearer—and up the Firth yonder there is a stir in the
-cutter as she prepares to leave her anchor and strike into the mid-waters
-of the broad highway which she molests.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The sun is sinking lower in the grand western skies, and beginning
-to cast long, cool, dewy shadows of every headland and
-little promontory over the whole rocky coast; but still the Firth is
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>
-burning with his slanting fervid rays, and Inchkeith far away
-lies like a cloud upon the sea, and the May, near at hand, lifts its
-white front to the sun—a Sabbath night as calm and full of rest
-as ever natural Sabbath was—and the reverend elder yonder on
-the pier uncovers his white head once more, and groans within
-himself, amid his passionate prayers for these perilled men upon
-the sea, over the desecrated Sabbath-day.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Nearer and nearer wears the sail, fluttering like the snowy
-breast of some sea-bird in prophetic terror; and now far off the red
-fishing-boat strikes boldly forth into the Firth with a signal-flag
-at its prow.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In the cutter they perceive it now; and see how the anchor
-swings up her shapely side, and the snowy sail curls over the
-yards, as with a bound she darts forth from her lurking-place,
-and flashing in the sunshine, like an eager hound leaps forth after
-her prey.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The boat—the boat! With every gleam of its oars the hearts
-throb that watch it on its way; with every bound it makes there
-are prayers—prayers of the anguish which will take no discouragement—pressing
-in at the gates of heaven; and the ebbing tide
-bears it out, and the wind droops its wings, and falls becalmed
-upon the coast, as if repenting it of the evil service it did to those
-two hapless vessels which have fallen into the snare. Bravely on
-as the sun grows lower—bravely out as the fluttering stranger
-sail draws nearer and more near—and but one other strain will
-bring them within hail.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But as all eyes follow these adventurers, another flash from
-the cutter's side glares over the shining water; and as the smoke
-rolls over the pursuing vessel, and the loud report again disturbs
-all the hills, Katie's heart grows sick, and she scarcely dares look
-to the east. But the ball has ploughed the water harmlessly, and
-yonder is the boat of rescue—yonder is the ship within hail; and
-some one stands up in the prow of the forlorn hope, and shouts
-and waves his hand.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It is enough. 'There she goes—there she tacks!' cries exulting
-the man with the telescope, 'and in half an hour she'll be
-safe in St. Andrew's Bay.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"But she sails slowly back—and slowly sails the impatient
-cutter, with little wind to swell her sails, and that little in her
-face; while the fisherboat, again falling close inshore with a
-relay of fresh men at the oars, has the advantage of them both.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"And now there is a hot pursuit—the cutter's boat in full chase
-after the forlorn hope; but as the sun disappears, and the long
-shadows lengthen and creep along the creeks and bays of the
-rocky coast so well known to the pursued, so ill to the pursuer,
-the event of the race is soon decided; and clambering up the first
-accessible landing-place they can gain, and leaving their boat on
-the rocks behind them, the forlorn hope joyously make their way
-home.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And it's a' Katie's notion and no a morsel of mine,' says the
-proud Willie Morison. But alas for your stout heart, Willie!—alas
-for the tremulous, startled bird which beats against the innocent
-breast of little Katie Stewart, for no one knows what heavy
-shadows shall vail the ending of this Sabbath-day.</p>
-
-<hr class="sect" />
-
-<p class="i1">"The mild spring night has darkened, but it is still early, and
-the moon is not yet up. The worship is over in John Stewart's
-decent house, and all is still within, though the miller and his
-wife still sit by the 'gathered' fire, and talk in half whispers about
-the events of the day, and the prospects of 'the bairns.' It is
-scarcely nine yet, but it is the reverent usage of the family to
-shut out the world earlier than usual on the Sabbath; and Katie,
-in consideration of her fatigue, has been dismissed to her little
-chamber in the roof. She has gone away not unwillingly, for,
-just before, the miller had closed the door on the slow, reluctant,
-departing steps of Willie Morison, and Katie is fain to be alone.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Very small is this chamber in the roof of the Milton, which
-Janet and Katie used to share. She has set down her candle on
-the little table before that small glass in the dark carved frame,
-and herself stands by the window, which she has opened, looking
-out. The rush of the burn fills the soft air with sound, into which
-sometimes penetrates a far-off voice, which proclaims the little
-town still awake and stirring: but save the light from Robert
-Moulter's uncurtained window—revealing a dark gleaming link
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>
-of the burn, before the cot-house door—and the reddened sky
-yonder, reflecting that fierce torch on the May, there is nothing
-visible but the dark line of fields, and a few faint stars in the
-clouded sky.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But the houses in Anster are not yet closed or silent. In the
-street which leads past the town-house and church of West Anster
-to the shore, you can see a ruddy light streaming out from the
-window upon the causeway, the dark churchyard wall, and over-hanging
-trees. At the fire stands a comely young woman, lifting
-'a kettle of potatoes' from the crook. The 'kettle' is a capacious
-pot on three feet, formed not like the ordinary 'kail-pat,' but like
-a little tub of iron; and now, as it is set down before the ruddy
-fire, you see it is full of laughing potatoes, disclosing themselves,
-snow-white and mealy, through the cracks in their clear dark
-coats. The mother of the household sits by the fireside, with a
-volume of sermons in her hand; but she is paying but little attention
-to the book, for the kitchen is full of young sailors, eagerly
-discussing the events of the day, and through the hospitable open
-door others are entering and departing with friendly salutations.
-Another such animated company fills the house of the widow Morison,
-'aest the town,' for still the afternoon's excitement has not
-subsided.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But up this dark leaf-shadowed street, in which we stand,
-there comes a muffled tramp as of stealthy footsteps. They hear
-nothing of it in that bright warm kitchen—fear nothing, as they
-gather round the fire, and sometimes rise so loud in their conversation
-that the house-mother lifts her hand, and shakes her head,
-with an admonitory, 'Whist bairns; mind, it's the Sabbath-day.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Behind backs, leaning against the sparkling panes of the window,
-young Robert Davidson speaks aside to Lizzie Tosh, the
-daughter of the house. They were 'cried' to-day in West Anster
-kirk, and soon will have a blithe bridal—'If naething comes in
-the way,' says Lizzie, with her downcast face; and the manly
-young sailor answers—'Nae fear.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Nae fear!' But without, the stealthy steps come nearer;
-and if you draw far enough away from the open door to lose the
-merry voices, and have your eyes no longer dazzled with the light,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>
-you will see dim figures creeping through the darkness, and feel
-that the air is heavy with the breath of men. But few people
-care to use that dark road between the manse and the churchyard
-at night, so no one challenges the advancing party, or gives the
-alarm.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Lizzie Tosh has stolen to the door; it is to see if the moon is
-up, and if Robert will have light on his homeward walk to Pittenweem;
-but immediately she rushes in again, with a face as pale
-as it had before been blooming, and alarms the assembly. 'A
-band of the cutter's men;—an officer, with a sword at his side.
-Rin, lads, rin, afore they reach the door.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But there is a keen, eager face, with a cocked hat surmounting
-it, already looking in at the window. The assembled sailors
-make a wild plunge at the door; and, while a few escape under
-cover of the darkness, the cutter's men have secured, after a desperate
-resistance, three or four of the foremost. Poor fellows!
-You see them stand without, young Robert Davidson in the front,
-his broad, bronzed forehead bleeding from a cut he has received
-in the scuffle, and one of his captors, still more visibly wounded,
-looking on him with evil, revengeful eyes: his own eye, poor lad,
-is flaming with fierce indignation and rage, and his broad breast
-heaves almost convulsively. But now he catches a glimpse of the
-weeping Lizzie, and fiery tears, which scorch his eyelids, blind
-him for a moment, and his heart swells as if it would burst. But
-it does not burst, poor desperate heart! until the appointed bullet
-shall come, a year or two hence, to make its pulses quiet for
-ever.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"A few of the gang entered the house. It is only 'a but and a
-ben;' and Lizzie stands with her back against the door of the
-inner apartment, while her streaming eyes now and then cast a
-sick, yearning glance toward the prisoners at the door—for her
-brother stands there as well as her betrothed.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What for would you seek in there?' asked the mother, lifting
-up her trembling hands. 'What would ye despoil my chaumer
-for, after ye've made my hearthstane desolate. If ye've a
-license to steal men, ye've nane to steal gear. Ye've dune your
-warst: gang out o' my house ye thieves, ye locusts, ye'——</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'We'll see about that, old lady,' said the leader:—'put the
-girl away from that door. Tom, bring the lantern.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The little humble room was neatly arranged. It was their
-best, and they had not spared upon it what ornament they could
-attain. Shells far travelled, precious for the giver's sake, and
-many other heterogeneous trifles, such as sailors pick up in foreign
-parts, were arranged upon the little mantel-piece and grate.
-There was no nook or corner in it which could possibly be used
-for a hiding-place; but the experienced eye of the foremost man
-saw the homely counterpane disordered on the bed; and there
-indeed the mother had hid her youngest, dearest son. She had
-scarcely a minute's time to drag him in, to prevail upon him to
-let her conceal him under her feather-bed, and all its comfortable
-coverings. But the mother's pains were unavailing, and now
-she stood by, and looked on with a suppressed scream, while that
-heavy blow struck down her boy as he struggled—her youngest,
-fair-haired, hopeful boy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Calm thoughts are in your heart, Katie Stewart—dreams of
-sailing over silver seas under that moon which begins to rise,
-slowly climbing through the clouds yonder, on the south side of
-the Firth. In fancy, already, you watch the soft Mediterranean
-waves rippling past the side of the Flower of Fife, and see the
-strange beautiful countries of which your bridegroom has told
-you shining under the brilliant southern sun. And then the
-home-coming—the curious toys you will gather yonder for the
-sisters and the mother; the pride you will have in telling them
-how Willie has cared for your voyage—how wisely he rules the
-one Flower of Fife, how tenderly he guards the other.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Your heart is touched, Katie Stewart, touched with the calm
-and pathos of great joy; and tears lie under your eyelashes, like
-the dew on flowers. Clasp your white hands on the sill of the
-window—heed not that your knees are unbended—and say your
-child's prayers with lips which move but utter nothing audible,
-and with your head bowed on the moonbeam, which steals into
-your window like a bird. True, you have said these child's
-prayers many a night, as in some sort a charm, to guard you as
-you slept; but now there comes upon your spirit an awe of the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>
-great Father yonder, a dim and wonderful apprehension of the
-mysterious Son in whose name you make those prayers. Is it
-true, then, that he thinks of all our loves and sorrows, this One,
-whose visible form realizes to us the dim, grand, glorious heaven—knows
-us by name—remembers us with the God's love in his
-wonderful human heart;—<i>us</i>, scattered by myriads over his earth,
-like the motes in the sunbeam? And the tears steal over your
-cheeks, as you end the child's prayer with the name that is above
-all names.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Now, will you rest? But the moon has mastered all her hilly
-way of clouds, and from the full sky looks down on you, Katie,
-with eyes of pensive blessedness like your own. Tarry a little—linger
-to watch that one bright spot on the Firth, where you could
-almost count the silvered waves as they lie beneath the light.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But a rude sound breaks upon the stillness—a sound of flying
-feet echoing over the quiet road; and now they become visible—one
-figure in advance, and a band of pursuers behind—the same
-brave heart which spent its strength to-day to warn the unconscious
-ship—the same strong form which Katie has seen in her
-dreams on the quarter-deck of the Flower of Fife;—but he will
-never reach that quarter-deck, Katie Stewart, for his strength
-flags, and they gain upon him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Gain upon him, step by step, unpitying bloodhounds!—see
-him lift up his hands to you, at your window, and have no ruth
-for his young hope, or yours;—and now their hands are on his
-shoulder, and he is in their power.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Katie!' cries the hoarse voice of Willie Morison, breaking
-the strange fascination in which she stood, 'come down and speak
-to me ae word, if ye wouldna break my heart. Man—if ye are a
-man—let me bide a minute; let me say a word to her. I'll maybe
-never see her in this world again.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The miller stood at the open door—the mother within was
-wiping the tears from her cheeks. 'Oh Katie, bairn, that ye had
-been sleeping!' But Katie rushed past them, and crossed the
-burn.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"What can they say?—only convulsively grasp each other's
-hands—wofully look into each other's faces, ghastly in the moonlight;
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>
-till Willie—Willie, who could have carried her like a child,
-in his strength of manhood—bowed down his head into those
-little hands of hers which are lost in his own vehement grasp,
-and hides with them his passionate tears.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Willie, I'll never forget ye,' says aloud the instinctive impulse
-of little Katie's heart, forgetting for the moment that there
-is any grief in the world but to see his. 'Night and day I'll
-mind ye, think of ye. If ye were twenty years away, I would be
-blither to wait for ye, than to be a queen. Willie, if ye must go,
-go with a stout heart—for I'll never forget ye, if it should be
-twenty years!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Twenty years! Only eighteen have you been in the world
-yet, brave little Katie Stewart; and you know not the years, how
-they drag their drooping skirts over the hills when hearts long
-for their ending, or how it is only day by day, hour by hour, that
-they wear out at length, and fade into the past.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Now, my man, let's have no more of this,' said the leader of
-the gang. 'I'm not here to wait your leisure; come on.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"And now they are away—truly away—and the darkness settles
-down where this moment Katie saw her bridegroom's head bowing
-over the hands which still are wet with his tears. Twenty
-years! Her own words ring into her heart like a knell, a prophecy
-of evil—if he should be twenty years away!"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">There is no exaggeration in the above narrative.
-Similar scenes have occurred on many occasions, and
-others of equally affecting character might be gathered
-from British sailors themselves. In the story of "Katie
-Stewart," ten years elapse before Willie Morison is
-permitted to return to his betrothed. In many cases
-the pressed seamen never catch a glimpse of home or
-friends again. Sometimes decoys and stratagems are
-used to press the seamen into the service of the government.
-Such extensive powers are intrusted to the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>
-officers of men-of-war, that they may be guilty of
-the grossest violations of right and justice with impunity,
-and even those "protections" which the government
-extends to certain persons, are frequently of no
-effect whatever. In the novel of "Jacob Faithful,"
-Captain Marryatt has given a fine illustration of the
-practice of some officers. The impressment of Jacob
-and Thomas the waterman, is told with Marryatt's
-usual spirit. Here it is:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'I say, you watermen, have you a mind for a good fare?' cried
-a dark-looking, not over clean, square built, short young man
-standing on the top of the flight of steps.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Where to, sir?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Gravesend, my jokers, if you a'n't afraid of salt water.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'That's a long way, sir!' replied Tom, 'and for salt water we
-must have salt to our porridge.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'So you shall, my lads, and a glass of grog into the bargain.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, but the bargain a'n't made yet, sir. Jacob, will you go?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, but not under a guinea.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Not under two guineas,' replied Tom, aside.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Are you in a great hurry, sir?' continued he, addressing the
-young man.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, in a devil of a hurry; I shall lose my ship. What will
-you take me for?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Two guineas, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Very well. Just come up to the public-house here, and put
-in my traps.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"We had brought down his luggage, put it into the wherry and
-started down the river with the tide. Our fare was very communicative,
-and we found out that he was master's mate of the Immortalité,
-forty-gun frigate, lying off Gravesend, which was to
-drop down the next morning, and wait for sailing orders at the
-Downs. We carried the tide with us, and in the afternoon were
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>
-close to the frigate, whose blue ensign waved proudly over the
-taffrail. There was a considerable sea arising from the wind
-meeting the tide, and before we arrived close to her, we had
-shipped a great deal of water; and when we were alongside, the
-wherry, with the chest in her bows, pitched so heavily, that we were
-afraid of being swamped. Just as a rope had been made fast to
-the chest, and they were weighing it out of the wherry, the ship's
-launch with water came alongside, and whether from accident or
-wilfully I know not, although I suspect the latter, the midshipman
-who steered her, shot her against the wherry, which was
-crushed in, and immediately filled, leaving Tom and me in the
-water, and in danger of being jammed to death between the
-launch and the side of the frigate. The seamen in the boat,
-however, forced her off with their oars, and hauled us in, while
-our wherry sank with her gunnel even with the water's edge, and
-floated away astern.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"As soon as we had shaken ourselves a little, we went up the side
-and asked one of the officers to send a boat to pick up our wherry.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Speak to the first lieutenant—there he is,' was the reply.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I went up to the person pointed out to me: 'If you please
-sir'——</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What the devil do you want?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'A boat, sir, to'——</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'A boat! the devil you do!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'To pick up our wherry, sir,' interrupted Tom.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Pick it up yourself,' said the first lieutenant, passing us and
-hailing the men aloft. 'Maintop there, hook on your stay. Be
-smart. Lower away the yards. Marines and afterguard, clear
-launch. Boatswain's-mate.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Here, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Pipe marines and afterguard to clear launch.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Ay, ay, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'But we shall lose our boat, Jacob,' said Tom, to me. 'They
-stove it in, and they ought to pick it up.' Tom then went up to
-the master's-mate, whom we had brought on board, and explained
-our difficulty.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Upon my soul, I dar'n't say a word. I'm in a scrape for
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>
-breaking my leave. Why the devil didn't you take care of your
-wherry, and haul ahead when you saw the launch coming.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How could we when the chest was hoisting out?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Very true. Well, I'm very sorry for you, but I must look
-after my chest.' So saying, he disappeared down the gangway
-ladder.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I'll try it again, any how,' said Tom, going up to the first
-lieutenant. 'Hard case to lose our boat and our bread, sir,' said
-Tom, touching his hat.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The first lieutenant, now that the marines and afterguard
-were at a regular stamp and go, had, unfortunately, more leisure
-to attend to us. He looked at us earnestly, and walked aft to
-see if the wherry was yet in sight. At that moment up came the
-master's-mate who had not yet reported himself to the first lieutenant.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Tom,' said I, 'there's a wherry close to; let us get into it,
-and go after our boat ourselves.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Wait one moment to see if they will help us—and get our
-money, at all events,' replied Tom; and we walked aft.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Come on board, sir,' said the master's mate, touching his
-hat with humility.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You've broke your leave, sir,' replied the first lieutenant,
-'and now I've to send a boat to pick up the wherry through your
-carelessness.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'If you please, they are two very fine young men,' observed
-the mate. 'Make capital foretop-men. Boat's not worth sending
-for, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"This hint, given by the mate to the first lieutenant, to regain
-his favour, was not lost. 'Who are you, my lads?' said the first
-lieutenant to us.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Watermen, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Watermen, hey! was that your own boat?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No, sir,' replied I, 'it belonged to the man that I serve with.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Oh! not your own boat? Are you an apprentice then?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Yes, sir, both apprentices.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Show me your indentures.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'We don't carry them about with us.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Then how am I to know that you are apprentices?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'We can prove it, sir, if you wish it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I do wish it; at all events, the captain will wish it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Will you please to send for the boat, sir? she's almost out
-of sight.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No, my lads, I can't find king's boats for such service.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Then, we had better go ourselves, Tom,' said I, and we went
-forward to call the waterman who was lying on his oars close to
-the frigate.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Stop—stop—not so fast. Where are you going, my lads?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'To pick up our boat, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Without my leave, hey!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'We don't belong to the frigate, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No; but I think it very likely that you will, for you have
-no protections.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'We can send for them and have them down by to-morrow
-morning.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well, you may do so, if you please, my lads; you cannot
-expect me to believe every thing that is told me. Now, for instance,
-how long have you to serve, my lad?' said he, addressing
-Tom.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'My time is up to-morrow, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Up to-morrow. Why, then, I shall detain you until to-morrow,
-and then I shall press you.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'If you detain me now, sir, I am pressed to-day.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Oh no! you are only detained until you prove your apprenticeship,
-that's all.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Nay, sir, I certainly am pressed during my apprenticeship.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Not at all, and I'll prove it to you. You don't belong to the
-ship until you are victualled on her books. Now, I shan't <i>victual</i>
-you to-day, and therefore, you won't be <i>pressed</i>.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I shall be pressed with hunger, at all events,' replied Tom,
-who never could lose a joke.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No, you shan't; for I'll send you both a good dinner out of
-the gun-room, so you won't be pressed at all,' replied the lieutenant,
-laughing at Tom's reply.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"You will allow me to go, sir, at all events,' replied I; 'for I
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>
-knew that the only chance of getting Tom and myself clear was
-by hastening to Mr. Drummond for assistance.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Pooh! nonsense; you must both row in the same boat as
-you have done. The fact is, my lads, I've taken a great fancy to
-you both, and I can't make up my mind to part with you.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'It's hard to lose our bread, this way,' replied I.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'We will find you bread, and hard enough you will find it,'
-replied the lieutenant, laughing; 'it's like a flint.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'So we ask for bread, and you give us a stone,' said Tom;
-'that's 'gainst Scripture.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Very true, my lad; but the fact is, all the scriptures in the
-world won't man the frigate. Men we must have, and get them
-how we can, and where we can, and when we can. Necessity has
-no law; at least it obliges us to break through all laws. After all,
-there's no great hardship in serving the king for a year or two, and
-filling your pockets with prize-money. Suppose you volunteer?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Will you allow us to go on shore for half an hour to think
-about it?' replied I.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No; I'm afraid of the crimps dissuading you. But, I'll give
-you till to-morrow morning, and then I shall be sure of one, at
-all events.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Thanky, for me,' replied Tom.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You're very welcome,' replied the first lieutenant, as, laughing
-at us, he went down the companion ladder to his dinner.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well, Jacob, we are in for it,' said Tom, as soon as we were
-alone. 'Depend upon it, there's no mistake this time.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I'm afraid not,' replied I, 'unless we can get a letter to your
-father, or Mr. Drummond, who, I am sure, would help us. But
-that dirty fellow, who gave the first lieutenant the hint, said the
-frigate sailed to-morrow morning; there he is, let us speak to
-him.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'When does the frigate sail?' said Tom to the master's-mate,
-who was walking the deck.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'My good fellow, it's not the custom on board of a man-of-war
-for men to ask officers to answer such impertinent questions.
-It's quite sufficient for you to know that when the frigate sails,
-you will have the honour of sailing in her.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well, sir,' replied I, nettled at his answer, 'at all events,
-you will have the goodness to pay us our fare. We have lost our
-wherry, and our liberty, perhaps, through you; we may as well
-have our two guineas.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Two guineas! It's two guineas you want, heh?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, sir, that was the fare agreed upon.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Why, you must observe, my men,' said the master's-mate,
-hooking a thumb into each arm-hole of his waistcoat, 'there must
-be a little explanation as to that affair. I promised you two
-guineas as watermen; but now that you belong to a man-of-war,
-you are no longer watermen. I always pay my debts honourably
-when I can find the lawful creditors; but where are the watermen?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Here we are, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No, my lads, you are men-of-war's men now, and that quite
-alters the case."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'But we are not so yet, sir: even if it did alter the case, we
-are not pressed yet.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well, then, you will be to-morrow, perhaps; at all events
-we shall see. If you are allowed to go on shore again, I owe
-you two guineas as watermen; and if you are detained as men-of-war's
-men, why then you will only have done your duty in pulling
-down one of your officers. You see, my lads, I say nothing
-but what's fair.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well, sir, but when you hired us, we were watermen,' replied
-Tom.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Very true, so you were; but recollect the two guineas were
-not due until you had completed your task, which was not until
-you came on board. When you came on board you were pressed
-and became men-of-war's men. You should have asked for your
-fare before the first lieutenant got hold of you. Don't you perceive
-the justice of my remarks?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Can't say I do, sir; but I perceive that there is very little
-chance of our being paid,' said Tom.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You are a lad of discrimination,' replied the master's-mate;
-'and now I advise you to drop the subject, or you may induce
-me to pay you man-of-war fashion.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'How's that, sir?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Over the face and eyes, as the cat paid the monkey,' replied
-the master's-mate, walking leisurely away.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"No go, Tom,' said I, smiling at the absurdity of the arguments.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I'm afraid it's <i>no go</i>, in every way, Jacob. However, I don't
-care much about it. I have had a little hankering after seeing
-the world, and perhaps now's as well as any other time; but I'm
-sorry for you, Jacob.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'It's all my own fault,' replied I; and I fell into one of those
-reveries so often indulged in of late as to the folly of my conduct
-in asserting my independence, which had now ended in my losing
-my liberty. But we were cold from the ducking we had received,
-and moreover very hungry. The first lieutenant did not forget
-his promise: he sent us up a good dinner, and a glass of grog
-each, which we discussed under the half-deck between two of the
-guns. We had some money in our pockets, and we purchased
-some sheets of paper from the bumboat people, who were on the
-main-deck supplying the seamen; and I wrote to Mr. Drummond
-and Mr. Turnbull, as well as to Mary and old Tom, requesting
-the two latter to forward our clothes to Deal, in case of our being
-detained. Tom also wrote to comfort his mother, and the greatest
-comfort he could give was, as he said, to promise to keep
-sober. Having intrusted these letters to the bumboat women,
-who promised faithfully to put them into the post-office, we had
-then nothing else to do but to look out for some place to sleep.
-Our clothes had dried on us, and we were walking under the half-deck,
-but not a soul spoke to, or even took the least notice of us.
-In a newly manned ship, just ready to sail, there is a universal
-feeling of selfishness prevailing among the ship's company. Some,
-if not most, had, like us, been pressed, and their thoughts were
-occupied with their situation, and the change in their prospects.
-Others were busy making their little arrangements with their
-wives or relations; while the mass of the seamen, not yet organized
-by discipline, or known to each other, were in a state of dis-union
-and individuality, which naturally induced every man to
-look after himself, without caring for his neighbour. We therefore
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>
-could not expect, nor did we receive any sympathy; we were
-in a scene of bustle and noise, yet alone. A spare topsail, which
-had been stowed for the present between two of the guns, was
-the best accommodation which offered itself. We took possession
-of it, and, tired with exertion of mind and body, were soon fast
-asleep."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In the mean time, doubtless, there was weeping and
-wailing at the homes of the pressed seamen. Parents,
-tottering on the verge of the grave, and deprived of
-their natural support—wives and children at the fireside
-uncheered by the presence of the head of the
-family—could only weep for the absent ones, and pray
-that their government might one day cease to be tyrannical.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">IRISH SLAVERY.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">For</span> centuries the Irish nation has groaned under
-the yoke of England. The chain has worn to the
-bone. The nation has felt its strength depart. Many
-of its noblest and fairest children have pined away in
-dungeons or starved by the roadside. The tillers of
-the soil, sweating from sunrise to sunset for a bare
-subsistence, have been turned from their miserable
-cabins—hovels, yet homes—and those who have been
-allowed to remain have had their substance devoured
-by a government seemingly never satisfied with the
-extent of its taxation. They have suffered unmitigated
-persecution for daring to have a religion of their own.
-Seldom has a conquered people suffered more from the
-cruelties and exactions of the conquerors. While
-Clarkson and Wilberforce were giving their untiring
-labours to the cause of emancipating negro slaves
-thousands of miles away, they overlooked a hideous
-system of slavery at their very doors—the slavery of a
-people capable of enjoying the highest degree of civil
-and religious freedom. Says William Howitt—</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_284.jpg" id="i_284.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_284.jpg"
- alt="" />
- <div class="caption">IRISH TENANT ABOUT TO EMIGRATE.</div>
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The great grievance of Ireland—the Monster Grievance—is
-just England itself. The curse of Ireland is bad government,
-and nothing more. And who is the cause of this? Nobody but
-England. Who made Ireland a conquered country? England.
-Who introduced all the elements of wrangling, discontent, and
-injustice? England. Who set two hostile churches, and two
-hostile races, Celts and Saxons, together by the ears in that country?
-England, of course. Her massacres, her military plantations,
-her violent seizure of ancient estates, her favouritism, her
-monstrous laws and modes of government, were the modern
-emptying of Pandora's box—the shaking out of a bag-full of
-Kilkenny cats on the soil of that devoted country. The consequences
-are exactly those that we have before us. Wretched
-Saxon landlords, who have left one-fourth of the country uncultivated,
-and squeezed the population to death by extortion on the
-rest. A great useless church maintained on the property of the
-ejected Catholics—who do as men are sure to do, kick at robbery,
-and feel it daily making their gall doubly bitter. And then we
-shake our heads and sagely talk about race. If the race be bad,
-why have we not taken pains to improve it? Why, for scores of
-years, did we forbid them even to be educated? Why do we
-complain of their being idle and improvident, and helpless, when
-we have done every thing we could to make them so? Are our
-ministers and Parliaments any better? Are they not just as idle,
-and improvident, and helpless, as it regards Ireland? Has not
-this evil been growing these three hundred years? Have any
-remedies been applied but those of Elizabeth, and the Stuarts
-and Straffords, the Cromwells, and Dutch William's? Arms and
-extermination? We have built barracks instead of schools; we
-have sown gunpowder instead of corn—and now we wonder at
-the people and the crops. The wisest and best of men have for
-ages been crying out for reform and improvement in Ireland,
-and all that we have done has been to augment the army and the
-police."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The condition of the Irish peasantry has long been
-most miserable. Untiring toil for the lords of the soil
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>
-gives the labourers only such a living as an American
-slave would despise. Hovels fit for pig-styes—rags
-for clothing—potatoes for food—are the fruits of the
-labour of these poor wretches. A vast majority of
-them are attached to the Roman Catholic Church, yet
-they are compelled to pay a heavy tax for the support
-of the Established Church. This, and other exactions,
-eat up their little substance, and prevent them from
-acquiring any considerable property. Their poor
-homes are merely held by the sufferance of grasping
-agents for landlords, and they are compelled to submit
-to any terms he may prescribe or become wandering
-beggars, which alternative is more terrible to many of
-them than the whip would be.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">O'Connell, the indomitable advocate of his oppressed
-countrymen, used the following language in his repeal
-declaration of July 27, 1841:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"It ought to sink deep into the minds of the English aristocracy,
-that no people on the face of the earth pay to another such a
-tribute for permission to live, as Ireland pays to England in
-absentee rents and surplus revenues. There is no such instance;
-there is nothing like it in ancient or modern history. There is
-not, and there never was, such an exhausting process applied to
-any country as is thus applied to Ireland. It is a solecism in
-political economy, inflicted upon Ireland alone, of all the nations
-that are or ever were."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Surely it is slavery to pay such a price for a miserable
-existence. We cannot so abuse terms as to call a
-people situated as the Irish are, free. They are compelled
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>
-to labour constantly without receiving an approach
-to adequate compensation, and they have no
-means of escape except by sundering the ties of home,
-kindred, and country.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The various repulsive features of the Irish system
-can be illustrated much more fully than our limits will
-permit. But we will proceed to a certain extent, as it
-is in Ireland that the results of British tyranny have
-been most frightfully manifested.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The population of Ireland is chiefly agricultural, yet
-there are no agricultural labourers in the sense in
-which that term is employed in Great Britain. A
-peasant living entirely by hire, without land, is wholly
-unknown.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The persons who till the ground may be divided into
-three classes, which are sometimes distinguished by the
-names of small farmers, cottiers, and casual labourers;
-or, as the last are sometimes called, "con-acre" men.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The class of small farmers includes those who hold
-from five to twelve Irish acres. The cottiers are those
-who hold about two acres, in return for which they
-labour for the farmer of twenty acres or more, or for
-the gentry.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Con-acre is ground hired, not by the year, but for a
-single crop, usually of potatoes. The tenant of con-acre
-receives the land in time to plant potatoes, and
-surrenders it so soon as the crop has been secured.
-The farmer from whom he receives it usually ploughs
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>
-and manures the land, and sometimes carts the crop.
-Con-acre is taken by tradesmen, small farmers, and
-cottiers, but chiefly by labourers, who are, in addition,
-always ready to work for hire when there is employment
-for them. It is usually let in roods, and other
-small quantities, rarely exceeding half an acre. These
-three classes, not very distinct from each other, form
-the mass of the Irish population.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"According to the census of 1831," says Mr. Bicheno, "the
-population of Ireland was 7,767,401; the 'occupiers employing
-labourers' were 95,339; the 'labourers employed in agriculture,'
-(who do not exist in Ireland as a class corresponding to
-that in England,) and the 'occupiers not employing labourers,'
-amounted together to 1,131,715. The two last descriptions pretty
-accurately include the cottier tenants and cottier labourers; and,
-as these are nearly all heads of families, it may be inferred from
-hence how large a portion of the soil of Ireland is cultivated by a
-peasant tenantry; and when to these a further addition is made
-of a great number of little farmers, a tolerably accurate opinion
-may be formed of the insignificant weight and influence that any
-middle class in the rural districts can have, as compared with the
-peasants. Though many may occupy a greater extent of land
-than the 'cottiers,' and, if held immediately from the proprietor,
-generally at a more moderate rent, and may possess some trifling
-stock, almost all the inferior tenantry of Ireland belong to one
-class. The cottier and the little farmer have the same feelings,
-the same interests to watch over, and the same sympathies.
-Their diet and their clothing are not very dissimilar, though
-they may vary in quantity; and the one cannot be ordinarily
-distinguished from the other by any external appearance. Neither
-does the dress of the children of the little farmers mark any distinction
-of rank, as it does in England; while their wives are
-singularly deficient in the comforts of apparel."—<i>Report of
-Commissioners of Poor Inquiry.</i></p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The whole population, small farmers, cottiers, and
-labourers, are equally devoid of capital. The small
-farmer holds his ten or twelve acres of land at a nominal
-rent—a rent determined not by what the land will
-yield, but by the intensity of the competition to obtain
-it. He takes from his farm a wretched subsistence,
-and gives over the remainder to his landlord. This
-remainder rarely equals the nominal rent, the growing
-arrears of which are allowed to accumulate against
-him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The cottier labours constantly for his landlord, (or
-master, as he would have been termed of old,) and
-receives, for his wages as a serf, land which will afford
-him but a miserable subsistence. Badly off as these
-two classes are, their condition is still somewhat better
-than that of the casual labourer, who hires con-acre,
-and works for wages at seasons when employment can
-be had, to get in the first place the means of paying
-the rent for his con-acre.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Bicheno says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"It appears from the evidence that the average crops of con-acre
-produce about as much or a little more, (at the usual price
-of potatoes in the autumn,) than the amount of the rent, seed,
-and tenant's labour, say 5<i>s.</i> or 10<i>s.</i> Beyond this the labourer
-does not seem to derive any other direct profit from taking con-acre;
-but he has the following inducements. In some cases he
-contracts to work out a part, or the whole, of his con-acre rent;
-and, even when this indulgence is not conceded to him by previous
-agreement, he always hopes, and endeavours to prevail on
-the farmer to be allowed this privilege, which, in general want
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>
-of employment, is almost always so much clear gain to him. By
-taking con-acre he also considers that he is <i>securing</i> food to the
-extent of the crop for himself and family at the low autumn
-price; whereas, if he had to go to market for it, he would be subject
-to the loss of time, and sometimes expense of carriage, to
-the fluctuations of the market, and to an advance of price in
-spring and summer."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Of the intensity of the competition for land, the following
-extracts from the evidence may give an idea:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"<i>Galway</i>, F. 35.—'If I now let it be known that I had a farm
-of five acres to let, I should have fifty bidders in twenty-four
-hours, and all of them would be ready to promise any rent that
-might be asked.'—<i>Mr. Birmingham.</i> The landlord takes on
-account whatever portion of the rent the tenant may be able to
-offer; the remainder he does not remit, but allows to remain over.
-A remission of a portion of the rent in either plentiful or scarce
-seasons is never made as a matter of course; when it does take
-place, it is looked upon as a favour.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">'The labourer is, from the absence of any other means of
-subsisting himself and family, thrown upon the hire of land, and
-the land he must hire at any rate; the payment of the promised
-rent is an after consideration. He always offers such a rent as
-leaves him nothing of the produce for his own use but potatoes,
-his corn being entirely for his landlord's claim.'—<i>Rev. Mr.
-Hughes</i>, P. P., and <i>Parker</i>.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"<i>Leitrim</i>, F. 36 and 37.—'So great is the competition for small
-holdings, that, if a farm of five acres were vacant, I really believe
-that nine out of every ten men in the neighbourhood would bid
-for it if they thought they had the least chance of getting it:
-they would be prepared to outbid each other, <i>ad infinitum</i>, in
-order to get possession of the land. <i>The rent which the people
-themselves would deem moderate, would not in any case admit of
-their making use of any other food than potatoes</i>; there are even
-many instances in this barony where the occupier cannot feed
-himself and family off the land he holds. In his anxiety to grow
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>
-as much oats (his only marketable produce) as will meet the
-various claims upon him, he devotes so small a space to the cultivation
-of potatoes, that he is obliged to take a portion of con-acre,
-and to pay for it by wages earned at a time when he would
-have been better employed on his own account.'—<i>Rev. T. Maguire</i>,
-P. P."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The land is subdivided into such small portions, that
-the labourer has not sufficient to grow more than a
-very scanty provision for himself and family. The
-better individuals of the class manage to secrete some
-of its produce from the landlord, to do which it is of
-course necessary that they should not employ it on
-their land: but if land is offered to be let, persons will
-be found so eager for it as to make compliments to
-some one of the family of the landlord or of his agent.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The exactions of agents and sub-agents are the most
-frequent causes of suffering among the peasantry.
-These agents are a class peculiar to Ireland. They
-take a large extent of ground, which they let out in
-small portions to the real cultivator. They grant
-leases sometimes, but the tenant is still in their power,
-and they exact personal services, presents, bribes;
-and draw from the land as much as they can, without
-the least regard for its permanent welfare. That portion
-of the poor peasant's substance which escapes the
-tithes and tax of government is seized by the remorseless
-agents, and thus the wretched labourer can get
-but a miserable subsistence by the severest toil.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In general the tenant takes land, promising to pay a
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>
-"nominal rent," in other words, a rent he never can
-pay. This rent falls into arrear, and the landlord
-allows the arrear to accumulate against him, in the
-hope that if he should chance to have an extraordinary
-crop, or if he should obtain it from any unexpected
-source, the landlord may claim it for his arrears.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The report of Poor-Law Commissioners states that
-"Agricultural wages vary from 6<i>d.</i> to 1<i>s.</i> a day;
-that the average of the country in general is about
-8½<i>d.</i>; and that the earnings of the labourers, on an
-average of the whole class, are from 2<i>s.</i> to 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a
-week, or thereabout."</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Thus circumstanced, it is impossible for the able-bodied, in
-general, to provide against sickness or the temporary absence of
-employment, or against old age or the destitution of their widows
-and children in the contingent event of their own premature
-decease.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"A great portion of them are insufficiently provided at any
-time with the commonest necessaries of life. Their habitations
-are wretched hovels; several of a family sleep together upon
-straw or upon the bare ground, sometimes with a blanket, sometimes
-not even so much to cover them; their food commonly consists
-of dry potatoes, and with these they are at times so scantily
-supplied as to be obliged to stint themselves to one spare meal in
-the day. There are even instances of persons being driven by
-hunger to seek sustenance in wild herbs. They sometimes get a
-herring, or a little milk, but they never get meat, except at
-Christmas, Easter, and Shrovetide."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The peasant finds himself obliged to live upon the
-cheapest food, <i>potatoes</i>, and potatoes of the worst quality,
-because they yield most, and are consequently the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>
-cheapest. These potatoes are "little better than turnips."
-"Lumpers" is the name given to them. They
-are two degrees removed from those which come ordinarily
-to our tables, and which are termed "apples."
-Mr. Bicheno says, describing the three sorts of potatoes—apples,
-cups, and lumpers—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The first named are of the best quality, but produce the least
-in quantity; the cups are not so good in quality as the apples,
-but produce more; and the lumpers are the worst of the three in
-quality, but yield the heaviest crop. For these reasons the
-apples are generally sent to Dublin and other large towns for
-sale. The cups are grown for the consumption of smaller towns,
-and are eaten by the larger farmers, and the few of the small occupiers
-and labourers who are in better circumstances than the
-generality of their class; and the lumpers are grown by large
-farmers for stall-feeding cattle, and by most of the small occupiers
-and all the labourers (except a few in constant employment,
-and having but small families) for their own food. Though
-most of the small occupiers and labourers grow apples and cups,
-they do not use them themselves, with the few exceptions mentioned,
-except as holiday fare, and as a little indulgence on
-particular occasions. They can only afford to consume the
-lumpers, or coarsest quality, themselves, on account of the much
-larger produce and consequent cheapness of that sort. The
-apples yield 10 to 15 per cent. less than the cups, and the cups
-10 to 15 per cent. less than the lumpers, making a difference of
-20 to 30 per cent. between the produce of the best and the worst
-qualities. To illustrate the practice and feeling of the country
-in this respect, the following occurrence was related by one of
-the witnesses:—'A landlord, in passing the door of one of his
-tenants, a small occupier, who was in arrears with his rent, saw
-one of his daughters washing potatoes at the door, and perceiving
-that they were of the apple kind, asked her if they were
-intended for their dinner. Upon being answered that they were,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>
-he entered the house, and asked the tenant what he meant
-by eating <i>apple</i> potatoes when they were fetching so good a
-price in Dublin, and while he did not pay him (the landlord) his
-rent?'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Lumpers, dry, that is, without milk or any other
-addition to them, are the ordinary food of the people.
-The pig which is seen in most Irish cabins, and the cow
-and fowls kept by the small farmers, go to market to
-pay the rent; even the eggs are sold. Small farmers,
-as well as labourers, rarely have even milk to their
-potatoes.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The following graphic description of an Irish peasant's
-home, we quote from the Pictorial Times, of
-February 7, 1846. Some districts in Ireland are
-crowded with such hovels:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"<i>Cabin of J. Donoghue.</i>—The hovel to which the eye is now
-directed scarcely exceeds Donoghue's length. He will have almost
-as much space when laid in his grave. He can stand up in
-no part of his cabin except the centre; and yet he is not an aged
-man, who has outlived all his connections, and with a frame just
-ready to mingle with its native dust. Nor is he a bachelor, absolutely
-impenetrable to female charms, or looking out for some
-damsel to whom he may be united, 'for better or for worse.'
-Donoghue, the miserable inmate of that hovel, on the contrary,
-has a wife and three children; and these, together with a dog, a
-pig, and sundry fowls, find in that cabin their common abode.
-Human beings and brutes are there huddled together; and the
-motive to the occupancy of the former is just the same as that
-which operates to the keeping of the latter—what they produce.
-Did not the pig and the fowls make money, Donoghue would have
-none; did not Donoghue pay his rent, the cabin would quickly
-have another tenant. Indeed, his rent is only paid, and he and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>
-his family saved from being turned adrift into the wide world, by
-his pig and his fowls.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But the cabin should be examined more particularly. It has
-a hole for a door, it has another for a window, it has a third
-through which the smoke may find vent, and nothing more. No
-resemblance to the door of an English cottage, however humble,
-nor the casement it is never without, nor even the rudest chimney
-from which the blue smoke arises, suggesting to the observer
-many ideas of comfort for its inmates, can possibly be traced.
-The walls, too, are jet black; and that which ought to be a floor
-is mud, thick mud, full of holes. The bed of the family is sod.
-The very cradle is a sort of swing suspended from the roof, and
-it is set in motion by the elbow of the wretched mother of the
-wretched child it contains, if she is not disposed to make use of
-her hands.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The question may fairly be proposed—What comfort can a
-man have in such circumstances? Can he find some relief from
-his misery, as many have found and still find it, by conversing
-with his wife? No. To suppose this, is to imagine him standing
-in a higher class of beings than the one of which he has always
-formed a part. Like himself, too, his wife is oppressed; the
-growth of her faculties is stunted; and, it may be, she is hungry,
-faint, and sick. Can he talk with his children? No. What can
-he, who knows nothing, tell them? What hope can he stimulate
-who has nothing to promise? Can he ask in a neighbour? No.
-He has no hospitality to offer him, and the cabin is crowded with
-his own family. Can he accost a stranger who may travel in the
-direction of his hovel, to make himself personally acquainted
-with his condition and that of others? No. He speaks a language
-foreign to an Englishman or a Scotchman, and which those
-who hate the 'Saxon,' whatever compliments they may pay him
-for their own purposes, use all the means they possess to maintain.
-Can he even look at his pig with the expectation that he
-will one day eat the pork or the bacon it will yield? No; not
-he. He knows that not a bone of the loin or a rasher will be his.
-That pig will go, like all the pigs he has had, to pay his rent.
-Only one comfort remains, which he has in common with his pig
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>
-and his dog, the warmth of his peat fire. Poor Donoghue! thou
-belongest to a race often celebrated as 'the finest peasantry in the
-world,' but it would be difficult to find a savage in his native
-forest who is not better off than thou!"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">There is one other comfort besides the peat fire,
-which Donoghue may have, and that is an occasional
-gill of whisky—a temporary comfort, an ultimate
-destruction—a new fetter to bind him down in his
-almost brutal condition. In Ireland, as in England,
-intoxication is the Lethe in which the heart-sick
-labourers strive to forget their sorrows. Intemperance
-prevails most where poverty is most generally felt.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The Pictorial Times thus sketches a cabin of the
-better class, belonging to a man named Pat Brennan:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"We will enter it, and look round with English eyes. We will
-do so, too, in connection with the remembrance of an humble
-dwelling in England. There we find at least a table, but here
-there is none. There we find some chairs, but here there are
-none. There we find a cupboard, but here there is none. There
-we find some crockery and earthenware, but here there is none.
-There we find a clock, but here there is none. There we find a
-bed, bedstead, and coverings, but here there are none. There is
-a brick, or stone, or boarded floor, but here there is none. What
-a descent would an English agricultural labourer have to make if
-he changed situations with poor Pat Brennan, who is better off
-than most of the tenants of Derrynane Beg, and it may be in the
-best condition of them all! Brennan's cabin has one room, in
-which he and his family live, of course with the fowls and pigs.
-One end is partitioned off in the manner of a loft, the loft being
-the potato store. The space underneath, where the fire is kindled,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>
-has side spaces for seats. In some instances, the turf-bed is on
-one side and the seats on the other. The other contents of the
-dwelling are—a milk-pail, a pot, a wooden bowl or two, a platter,
-and a broken ladder. A gaudy picture of the Virgin Mary may
-sometimes be seen in such cabins."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The eviction of the wretched peasantry has caused
-an immense amount of misery, and crowds of the
-evicted ones have perished from starvation. The tillers
-of the soil are mere tenants at will, and may ejected
-from their homes without a moment's notice. A whim
-of the landlord, the failure of the potato crop, or of
-the ordinary resources of the labourers, by which they
-are rendered unable to pay their rent for a short time,
-usually results in an edict of levelling and extermination.
-A recent correspondent of the London Illustrated
-News, thus describes the desolation of an Irish
-village:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The village of Killard forms part of the Union of Kilrush,
-and possesses an area of 17,022 acres. It had a population, in
-1841, of 6850 souls, and was valued to the poor-rate at £4254.
-It is chiefly the property, I understand, of Mr. John McMahon
-Blackall, whose healthy residence is admirably situated on the
-brow of a hill, protected by another ridge from the storms of the
-Atlantic. His roof-tree yet stands there, but the people have disappeared.
-The village was mostly inhabited by fishermen, who
-united with their occupation on the waters the cultivation of
-potatoes. When the latter failed, it might have been expected
-that the former should have been pursued with more vigour than
-ever; but boats and lines were sold for present subsistence, and
-to the failure of the potatoes was added the abandonment of the
-fisheries. The rent dwindled to nothing, and then came the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>
-leveller and the exterminator. What has become of the 6850
-souls, I know not; but not ten houses remain of the whole village
-to inform the wayfarer where, according to the population returns,
-they were to be found in 1841. They were here, but are gone for
-ever; and all that remains of their abodes are a few mouldering
-walls, and piles of offensive thatch turning into manure. Killard
-is an epitome of half Ireland. If the abodes of the people had
-not been so slight, that they have mingled, like Babylon, with
-their original clay, Ireland would for ages be renowned for its
-ruins; but, as it is, the houses are swept away like the people,
-and not a monument remains of a multitude, which, in ancient
-Asia or in the wilds of America, would numerically constitute a
-great nation."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The same correspondent mentions a number of other
-instances of the landlord's devastation, and states that
-large tracts of fertile land over which he passed were
-lying waste, while the peasantry were starving by the
-roadside, or faring miserably in the workhouses. At
-Carihaken, in the county of Galway, the levellers had
-been at work, and had tumbled down eighteen houses.
-The correspondent says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In one of them dwelt John Killian, who stood by me while I
-made a sketch of the remains of his dwelling. He told me that
-he and his fathers before him had owned this now ruined cabin
-for ages, and that he had paid £4 a year for four acres of ground.
-He owed no rent; before it was due, the landlord's drivers cut
-down his crops, carried them off, gave him no account of the proceeds,
-and then tumbled his house. The hut made against the
-end wall of a former habitation was not likely to remain, as a
-decree had gone forth entirely to clear the place. The old man
-also told me that his son having cut down, on the spot that was
-once his own garden, a few sticks to make him a shelter, was
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>
-taken up, prosecuted, and sentenced to two months' confinement,
-for destroying trees and making waste of the property.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I must supply you with another sketch of a similar subject,
-on the road between Maam and Clifden, in Joyce's County, once
-famous for the Patagonian stature of the inhabitants, who are
-now starved down to ordinary dimensions. High up on the
-mountain, but on the roadside, stands the scalpeen of Keillines.
-It is near General Thompson's property. Conceive five human
-beings living in such a hole: the father was out, at work; the
-mother was getting fuel on the hills, and the children left in the
-hut could only say they were hungry. Their appearance confirmed
-their words—want was deeply engraved in their faces, and
-their lank bodies were almost unprotected by clothing.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"From Clifden to Ouchterade, twenty-one miles, is a dreary
-drive over a moor, unrelieved except by a glimpse of Mr. Martin's
-house at Ballynahinch, and of the residence of Dean Mahon.
-Destitute as this tract is of inhabitants, about Ouchterade some
-thirty houses have been recently demolished. A gentleman who
-witnessed the scene told me nothing could exceed the heartlessness
-of the levellers, if it were not the patient submission of the
-sufferers. They wept, indeed; and the children screamed with
-agony at seeing their homes destroyed and their parents in tears;
-but the latter allowed themselves unresistingly to be deprived of
-what is to most people the dearest thing on earth next to their
-lives—their only home.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The public records, my own eyes, a piercing wail of wo
-throughout the land—all testify to the vast extent of the evictions
-at the present time. Sixteen thousand and odd persons
-unhoused in the Union of Kilrush before the month of June in
-the present year; seventy-one thousand one hundred and thirty
-holdings done away in Ireland, and nearly as many houses destroyed,
-in 1848; two hundred and fifty-four thousand holdings
-of more than one acre and less than five acres, put an end to
-between 1841 and 1848: six-tenths, in fact, of the lowest class of
-tenantry driven from their now roofless or annihilated cabins and
-houses, makes up the general description of that desolation of
-which Tullig and Mooven are examples. The ruin is great and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>
-complete. The blow that effected it was irresistible. It came in
-the guise of charity and benevolence; it assumed the character
-of the last and best friend of the peasantry, and it has struck
-them to the heart. They are prostrate and helpless. The once
-frolicksome people—even the saucy beggars—have disappeared,
-and given place to wan and haggard objects, who are so resigned
-to their doom that they no longer expect relief. One beholds only
-shrunken frames, scarcely covered with flesh—crawling skeletons,
-who appear to have risen from their graves, and are ready to
-return frightened to that abode. They have little other covering
-than that nature has bestowed on the human body—a poor protection
-against inclement weather; and, now that the only hand
-from which they expected help is turned against them, even hope
-is departed, and they are filled with despair. Than the present
-Earl of Carlisle there is not a more humane nor a kinder-hearted
-nobleman in the kingdom; he is of high honour and unsullied
-reputation; yet the poor-law he was mainly the means of establishing
-for Ireland, with the best intentions, has been one of
-the chief causes of the people being at this time turned out
-of their homes, and forced to burrow in holes, and share, till
-they are discovered, the ditches and the bogs with otters and
-snipes.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The instant the poor-law was passed, and property was made
-responsible for poverty, the whole of the land-owners, who had
-before been careless about the people, and often allowed them to
-plant themselves on untenanted spots, or divide their tenancies—delighted
-to get the promise of a little additional rent—immediately
-became deeply interested in preventing that, and in keeping
-down the number of the people. Before they had rates to
-pay, they cared nothing for them; but the law and their self-interest
-made them care, and made them extirpators. Nothing
-less than some general desire like that of cupidity falling in with
-an enactment, and justified by a theory—nothing less than a
-passion which works silently in all, and safely under the sanction
-of a law—could have effected such wide-spread destruction.
-Even humanity was enlisted by the poor-law on the side of extirpation.
-As long as there was no legal provision for the poor, a
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>
-landlord had some repugnance to drive them from every shelter;
-but the instant the law took them under its protection, and forced
-the land-owner to pay a rate to provide for them, repugnance
-ceased: they had a legal home, however inefficient, to go to; and
-eviction began. Even the growth of toleration seems to have
-worked to the same end. Till the Catholics were emancipated,
-they were all—rich and poor, priests and peasants—united by a
-common bond; and Protestant landlords beginning evictions on
-a great scale would have roused against them the whole Catholic
-nation. It would have been taken up as a religious question, as
-well as a question of the poor, prior to 1829. Subsequent to that
-time—with a Whig administration, with all offices open to Catholics—no
-religious feelings could mingle with the matter: eviction
-became a pure question of interest; and while the priests look
-now, perhaps, as much to the government as to their flocks for
-support, Catholic landlords are not behind Protestant landlords
-in clearing their estates."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The person from whom we make the above quotation
-visited Ireland after the famine consequent upon the
-failure of the potato crop had done its worst—in the
-latter part of 1849. But famine seems to prevail, to a
-certain extent, at all times, in that unhappy land—and
-thus it is clear that the accidental failure of a crop has
-less to do with the misery of the people than radical
-misgovernment.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"To the Irish, such desolation is nothing new. They have long
-been accustomed to this kind of skinning. Their history, ever since
-it was written, teems with accounts of land forcibly taken from one
-set of owners and given to another; of clearings and plantings
-exactly similar in principle to that which is now going on; of
-driving men from Leinster to Munster, from Munster to Connaught,
-and from Connaught into the sea. Without going back
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>
-to ancient proscriptions and confiscations—all the land having
-been, between the reign of Henry II. and William III. confiscated,
-it is affirmed, three times over—we must mention that the
-clearing so conspicuous in 1848 has now been going on for several
-years. The total number of holdings in 1841, of above one
-acre, and not exceeding five acres each, was 310,375; and, in
-1847, they had been diminished to 125,926. In that single class
-of holdings, therefore, 184,449, between 1841 and 1847 inclusive,
-had been done away with, and 24,147 were extinguished in 1848.
-Within that period, the number of farms of five acres and upward,
-particularly of farms of thirty acres and upward, was increased
-210,229, the latter class having increased by 108,474.
-Little or no fresh land was broken up; and they, therefore, could
-only have been formed by amassing in these larger farms numerous
-small holdings. Before the year 1847, therefore, before
-1846, when the potato rot worked so much mischief, even before
-1845, the process of clearing the land, of putting down homesteads
-and consolidating farms, had been carried to a great extent;
-before any provision had been made by a poor-law for the
-evicted families, before the turned-out labourers and little farmers
-had even the workhouse for a refuge, multitudes had been continually
-driven from their homes to a great extent, as in 1848.
-The very process, therefore, on which government now relies for
-the present relief and the future improvement of Ireland, was begun
-and was carried to a great extent several years before the extremity
-of distress fell upon it in 1846. We are far from saying
-that the potato rot was caused by the clearing system; but, by
-disheartening the people, by depriving them of security, by contributing
-to their recklessness, by paralyzing their exertions, by
-promoting outrages, that system undoubtedly aggravated all the
-evils of that extraordinary visitation."—<i>Illustrated News</i>, October
-13, 1849.</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The correspondent of the News saw from one
-hundred and fifty to one hundred and eighty funerals
-of victims to the want of food, the whole number
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>
-attended by not more than fifty persons. So hardened
-were the men regularly employed in the removal of the
-dead from the workhouse, that they would drive to the
-churchyard sitting upon the coffins, and smoking with
-apparent enjoyment. These men had evidently "supped
-full of horrors." A funeral was no solemnity to them.
-They had seen the wretched peasants in the madness of
-starvation, and death had come as a soothing angel.
-Why should the quieted sufferers be lamented?</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_303.jpg" id="i_303.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_303.jpg"
- alt="" />
- <div class="caption">MULLIN'S HUT AT SCULL.</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">A specimen of the in-door horrors of Scull may be
-seen in the sketch of a hut of a poor man named Mullins,
-who lay dying in a corner, upon a heap of straw
-supplied by the Relief Committee, while his three
-wretched children crouched over a few embers of turf,
-as if to raise the last remaining spark of life. This
-poor man, it appears, had buried his wife about five
-days before, and was, in all probability, on the eve of
-joining her, when he was found out by the efforts of
-the vicar, who, for a few short days, saved him from
-that which no kindness could ultimately avert. The
-dimensions of Mullins's hut did not exceed ten feet
-square, and the dirt and filth was ankle-deep upon the
-floor.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Commander Caffin, the captain of the steam-sloop <i>Scourge</i>,
-on the south coast of Ireland, has written a letter to a friend,
-dated February 15, 1847, in which he gives a most distressing
-and graphic account of the scenes he witnessed in the course of
-his duty in discharging a cargo of meal at Scull. After stating
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>
-that three-fourths of the inhabitants carry a tale of wo in their
-countenances, and are reduced to mere skeletons, he mentions the
-result of what he saw while going through the parish with the
-rector, Dr. Traill. He says—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Famine exists to a fearful degree, with all its horrors. Fever
-has sprung up, consequent upon the wretchedness; and swellings
-of limbs and body, and diarrhœa, upon the want of nourishment,
-are everywhere to be found. Dr. Traill's parish is twenty-one
-miles in extent, containing about eighteen thousand souls, with
-not more than half a dozen gentlemen in the whole of it. He
-drove me about five or six miles; but we commenced our visits
-before leaving the village, and in no house that I entered was
-there not to be found the dead or dying. In particularizing two or
-three, they may be taken as the features of the whole. There was
-no picking or choosing, but we took them just as they came.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The first which I shall mention was a cabin, rather above
-the ordinary ones in appearance and comfort; in it were three
-young women, and one young man, and three children, all
-crouched over a fire—pictures of misery. Dr. Traill asked after
-the father, upon which one of the girls opened a door leading into
-another cabin, and there were the father and mother in bed; the
-father the most wretched picture of starvation possible to conceive,
-a skeleton with life, his power of speech gone; the mother
-but a little better—her cries for mercy and food were heart-rending.
-It was sheer destitution that had brought them to this.
-They had been well to do in the world, with their cow, and few
-sheep, and potato-ground. Their crops failed, and their cattle
-were stolen; although, anticipating this, they had taken their
-cow and sheep into the cabin with them every night, but they
-were stolen in the daytime. The son had worked on the road,
-and earned his 8<i>d.</i> a day, but this would not keep the family, and
-he, from work and insufficiency of food, is laid up, and will soon
-be as bad as his father. They had nothing to eat in the house,
-and I could see no hope for any one of them.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'In another cabin we went into, a mother and her daughter
-were there—the daughter emaciated, and lying against the wall—the
-mother naked upon some straw on the ground, with a rug
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>
-over her—a most distressing object of misery. She writhed
-about, and bared her limbs, in order to show her state of exhaustion.
-She had wasted away until nothing but the skin
-covered the bones—she cannot have survived to this time.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Another that I entered had, indeed, the appearance of
-wretchedness without, but its inside was misery! Dr. Traill, on
-putting his head inside the hole which answered for a door, said,
-'Well, Philis, how is your mother to-day?—he having been with
-her the day before—and was replied to, 'Oh, sir, is it you?
-Mother is dead!' and there, fearful reality, was the daughter, a
-skeleton herself, crouched and crying over the lifeless body of her
-mother, which was on the floor, cramped up as she had died, with
-her rags and her cloak about her, by the side of a few embers of
-peat. In the next cabin were three young children belonging to
-the daughter, whose husband had run away from her, all pictures
-of death. The poor creature said she did not know what to do
-with the corpse—she had no means of getting it removed, and
-she was too exhausted to remove it herself: this cabin was about
-three miles from the rectory. In another cabin, the door of
-which was stopped with dung, was a poor woman whom we had
-taken by surprise, as she roused up evidently much astonished.
-She burst into tears upon seeing the doctor, and said she had not
-been enabled to sleep since the corpse of the woman had lain in
-her bed. This was a poor creature who was passing this miserable
-cabin, and asked the old woman to allow her to rest herself
-for a few moments, when she had laid down, but never rose up
-again; she died in an hour or so, from sheer exhaustion. The
-body had remained in this hovel of six feet square with the poor
-old woman for four days, and she could not get anybody to
-remove it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The letter proceeds:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I could in this manner take you through the thirty or more
-cottages we visited; but they, without exception, were all alike—the
-dead and the dying in each; and I could tell you more of the
-truth of the heart-rending scene were I to mention the lamentations
-and bitter cryings of each of these poor creatures on the
-threshold of death. Never in my life have I seen such wholesale
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>
-misery, nor could I have thought it so complete.'"—<i>Illustrated
-News</i>, February 20, 1847. [At this period, famine prevailed
-throughout Ireland.]</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">At the village of Mienils, a man named Leahey
-perished during the great famine, with many circumstances
-of horror. When too weak, from want of
-food, to help himself, he was stretched in his filthy
-hovel, when his famished dogs attacked and so mangled
-him that he expired in intense agony. Can the history
-of any other country present such terrible instances
-of misery and starvation? The annals of Ireland have
-been dark, indeed; and those who have wilfully cast
-that gloom upon them, must emancipate Africans, and
-evangelize the rest of mankind, for a century, at least,
-to lay the ghosts of the murdered Irish.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">An Irish funeral of later days, with its attendant
-circumstances of poverty and gloom, is truly calculated
-to stir the sensitive heart of a poet. The obsequies
-display the meagre results of attempts to bury
-the dead with decency. The mourners are few, but
-their grief is sincere; and they weep for the lost as
-they would be wept for when Death, who is ever walking
-by their side, lays his cold hand on them. During
-the great famine, some poor wretches perished while
-preparing funerals for their friends. In the following
-verses, published in Howitt's Journal, of the 1st of April,
-1847, we have a fine delineation of an Irish funeral,
-such as only a poet could give:—</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p>
-
-
-<p class="ac larger">AN IRISH FUNERAL.</p>
-
-<p class="ac">BY THE AUTHOR OF "ORION."</p>
-
-<hr class="small" />
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="ac">"Funerals performed."—<i>London</i> Trades.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"On Wednesday, the remains of a poor woman, who died of
-hunger, were carried to their last resting-place by three women,
-and a blind man the son-in-law of the deceased. The distance
-between the wretched hut of the deceased and the grave-yard was
-nearly three miles."—<i>Tuam Herald.</i></p></div>
-
-<hr class="small" />
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">An old door's the hearse
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Of the skeleton corpse,
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">And three women bear it,
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">With a blind man to
- share it:</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Over flint, over bog,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">They stagger and jog:—</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">Weary, and hungry, and hopeless,
- and cold,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">They slowly bear onward the
- bones to the mould.</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Barefoot ye go,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Through the frost, through
- the snow;</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Unsteady and slow,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Your hearts mad with
- woe;</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">Bewailing and blessing the
- poor rigid clod—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]
- </a></span></span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">The dear dead-and-cold one,
- whose soul is with God.</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">This ruin and rod</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Are from man—and not God!</span></div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Now out spake her sister,—
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">"Can we be quite sure</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Of the mercy of Heaven,
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Or that Death is Life's cure?</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">A cure for the misery, famine,
- and pains,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">Which our cold rulers view as
- the end of their gains?"</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">"In a land where's plenty,"
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">The old mother said,—</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">"But not for poor creatures
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Who pawn rags and bed—</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">There's plenty for rich ones,
- and those far away,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">Who drain off our life-blood,
- so thoughtless and gay!"</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Then wailed the third
- woman—</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">"The darling was worth</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">The rarest of jewels
- </span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">That shine upon earth.</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">When hunger was gnawing
- her—wasted and wild—</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">She shared her last morsel
- with my little child."</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod
- <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div>
- </div>
- <div class="stanza">
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">"O Christ!" pray'd the blind
- man,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">"We are not so poor,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Though we bend 'neath the dear
- weight</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">That crushes this door;</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">For we know that the grave is
- the first step to Heaven,</span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">And a birthright we have in the
- riches there given."</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod,</span></div>
- <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div>
- </div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">What wonder if the evicted peasants of Ireland,
-made desperate by the tyranny of the landlords, sometimes
-make "a law unto themselves," and slay their
-oppressors! Rebellion proves manhood under such
-circumstances. Instances of landlords being murdered
-by evicted tenants are numerous. In the following
-sketch we have a vivid illustration of this phase
-of Irish life:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The moorland was wide, level, and black; black as night, if
-you could suppose night condensed on the surface of the earth, and
-that you could tread on solid darkness in the midst of day. The
-day itself was fast dropping into night, although it was dreary and
-gloomy at the best; for it was a November day. The moor, for
-miles around, was treeless and houseless; devoid of vegetation,
-except heather, which clad with its gloomy frieze coat the shivering
-landscape. At a distance you could discern, through the misty
-atmosphere, the outline of mountains apparently as bare and stony
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>
-as this wilderness, which they bounded. There were no fields, no
-hedgerows, no marks of the hand of man, except the nakedness
-itself, which was the work of man in past ages; when, period after
-period, he had tramped over the scene with fire and sword, and
-left all that could not fly before him, either ashes to be scattered
-by the savage winds, or stems of trees, and carcasses of men trodden
-into the swampy earth. As the Roman historians said of
-other destroyers, 'They created solitude, and called it peace.'
-That all this was the work of man, and not of Nature, any one
-spot of this huge and howling wilderness could testify, if you would
-only turn up its sable surface. In its bosom lay thousands of ancient
-oaks and pines, black as ebony; which told, by their gigantic
-bulk, that forests must have once existed on this spot, as rich as
-the scene was now bleak. Nobler things than trees lay buried
-there; but were, for the most part, resolved into the substance of
-the inky earth. The dwellings of men had left few or no traces,
-for they had been consumed in flames; and the hearts that had
-loved, and suffered, and perished beneath the hand of violence and
-insult, were no longer human hearts, but slime. If a man were
-carried blindfold to that place, and asked when his eyes were unbandaged
-where he was, he would say—'Ireland!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"He would want no clue to the identity of the place, but the
-scene before him. There is no heath like an Irish heath. There
-is no desolation like an Irish desolation. Where Nature herself
-has spread the expanse of a solitude, it is a cheerful solitude. The
-air flows over it lovingly: the flowers nod and dance in gladness;
-the soil breathes up a spirit of wild fragrance, which communicates
-a buoyant sensation to the heart. You feel that you tread on
-ground where the peace of God, and not the 'peace' of man created
-in the merciless hurricane of war, has sojourned: where the sun
-shone on creatures sporting on ground or on tree, as the Divine
-Goodness of the Universe meant them to sport: where the hunter
-disturbed alone the enjoyment of the lower animals by his own
-boisterous joy: where the traveller sang as he went over it, because
-he felt a spring of inexpressible music in his heart: where the
-weary wayfarer sat beneath a bush, and blessed God, though his
-limbs ached with travel, and his goal was far off. In God's deserts
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>
-dwells gladness; in man's deserts, death. A melancholy smites
-you as you enter them. There is a darkness from the past that
-envelopes your heart, and the moans and sighs of ten-times perpetrated
-misery seem still to live in the very winds.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"One shallow and widely spread stream struggled through the
-moor; sometimes between masses of gray stone. Sedges and the
-white-headed cotton-rush whistled on its margin, and on island-like
-expanses that here and there rose above the surface of its middle
-course.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I have said that there was no sign of life; but on one of those
-gray stones stood a heron watching for prey. He had remained
-straight, rigid, and motionless for hours. Probably his appetite
-was appeased by his day's success among the trout of that dark
-red-brown stream, which was coloured by the peat from which it
-oozed. When he did move, he sprang up at once, stretched his
-broad wings, and silent as the scene around him, made a circuit
-in the air; rising higher as he went, with slow and solemn flight.
-He had been startled by a sound. There was life in the desert now.
-Two horsemen came galloping along a highway not far distant, and
-the heron, continuing his grave gyrations, surveyed them as he
-went. Had they been travellers over a plain of India, an Austrian
-waste, or the pampas of South America, they could not have been
-grimmer of aspect, or more thoroughly children of the wild. They
-were Irish from head to foot.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"They were mounted on two spare but by no means clumsy
-horses. The creatures had marks of blood and breed that had
-been introduced by the English to the country. They could claim,
-if they knew it, lineage of Arabia. The one was a pure bay, the
-other and lesser, was black; but both were lean as death, haggard
-as famine. They were wet with the speed with which they had
-been hurried along. The soil of the damp moorland, or of the field
-in which, during the day, they had probably been drawing the
-peasant's cart, still smeared their bodies, and their manes flew as
-wildly and untrimmed as the sedge or the cotton-rush on the wastes
-through which they careered. Their riders, wielding each a heavy
-stick instead of a riding-whip, which they applied ever and anon to
-the shoulders or flanks of their smoking animals, were mounted on
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>
-their bare backs, and guided them by halter instead of bridle. They
-were a couple of the short frieze-coated, knee-breeches and gray-stocking
-fellows who are as plentiful on Irish soil as potatoes.
-From beneath their narrow-brimmed, old, weather-beaten hats,
-streamed hair as unkemped as their horses' manes. The Celtic
-physiognomy was distinctly marked—the small and somewhat upturned
-nose; the black tint of skin; the eye now looking gray, now
-black; the freckled cheek, and sandy hair. Beard and whiskers
-covered half the face, and the short square-shouldered bodies were
-bent forward with eager impatience, as they thumped and kicked
-along their horses, muttering curses as they went.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The heron, sailing on broad and seemingly slow vans, still kept
-them in view. Anon, they reached a part of the moorland where
-traces of human labour were visible. Black piles of peat stood on
-the solitary ground, ready, after a summer's cutting and drying.
-Presently patches of cultivation presented themselves; plots of
-ground raised on beds, each a few feet wide, with intervening
-trenches to carry off the boggy water, where potatoes had grown, and
-small fields where grew more stalks of ragwort than grass, inclosed
-by banks cast up and tipped here and there with a brier or a stone.
-It was the husbandry of misery and indigence. The ground had
-already been freshly manured by sea-weeds, but the village—where
-was it? Blotches of burnt ground, scorched heaps of rubbish,
-and fragments of blackened walls, alone were visible. Garden-plots
-were trodden down, and their few bushes rent up, or hung
-with tatters of rags. The two horsemen, as they hurried by with
-gloomy visages, uttered no more than a single word: 'Eviction!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Further on, the ground heaved itself into a chaotic confusion.
-Stony heaps swelled up here and there, naked, black, and barren:
-the huge bones of the earth protruded themselves through her skin.
-Shattered rocks arose, sprinkled with bushes, and smoke curled
-up from what looked like mere heaps of rubbish, but which were
-in reality human habitations. Long dry grass hissed and rustled
-in the wind on their roofs, (which were sunk by-places, as if falling
-in;) and pits of reeking filth seemed placed exactly to prevent access
-to some of the low doors; while to others, a few stepping-stones
-made that access only possible. Here the two riders stopped, and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>
-hurriedly tying their steeds to an elder-bush, disappeared in one
-of the cabins.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The heron slowly sailed on to the place of its regular roost.
-Let us follow it.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Far different was this scene to those the bird had left. Lofty
-trees darkened the steep slopes of a fine river. Rich meadows lay
-at the feet of woods and stretched down to the stream. Herds of
-cattle lay on them, chewing their cuds after the plentiful grazing
-of the day. The white walls of a noble house peeped, in the dusk
-of night, through the fertile timber which stood in proud guardianship
-of the mansion; and broad winding walks gave evidence of a
-place where nature and art had combined to form a paradise.
-There were ample pleasure-grounds. Alas! the grounds around
-the cabins over which the heron had so lately flown, might be truly
-styled pain-grounds.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Within that home was assembled a happy family. There was
-the father, a fine-looking man of forty. Proud you would have
-deemed him, as he sate for a moment abstracted in his cushioned
-chair; but a moment afterward, as a troop of children came
-bursting into the room, his manner was instantly changed into one
-so pleasant, so playful, and so overflowing with enjoyment, that
-you saw him only as an amiable, glad, domestic man. The mother,
-a handsome woman, was seated already at the tea-table; and,
-in another minute, sounds of merry voices and childish laughter
-were mingled with the jocose tones of the father, and the playful
-accents of the mother; addressed, now to one, now to another of
-the youthful group.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In due time the merriment was hushed, and the household
-assembled for evening prayer. A numerous train of servants assumed
-their accustomed places. The father read. He had paused
-once or twice, and glanced with a stern and surprised expression
-toward the group of domestics, for he heard sounds that astonished
-him from one corner of the room near the door. He went on—Remember
-the children of Edom, O Lord, in the day of judgment,
-how they said, Down with it, down with it, even to the ground.
-O daughter of Babylon, wasted with misery, yea, happy shall he be
-who rewardeth thee, as thou hast served us!"</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"There was a burst of smothered sobs from the same corner,
-and the master's eye flashed with a strange fire as he again darted
-a glance toward the offender. The lady looked equally surprised,
-in the same direction; then turned a meaning look on her husband—a
-warm flush was succeeded by a paleness in her countenance,
-and she cast down her eyes. The children wondered, but were
-still. Once more the father's sonorous voice continued—'Give us
-this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive
-them that trespass against us.' Again the stifled sound was
-repeated. The brow of the master darkened again—the mother
-looked agitated; the children's wonder increased; the master closed
-the book, and the servants, with a constrained silence, retired from
-the room.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What <i>can</i> be the matter with old Dennis?' exclaimed the lady,
-the moment that the door had closed on the household.—'Oh! what
-<i>is</i> amiss with poor old Dennis!' exclaimed the children.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Some stupid folly or other,' said the father, morosely.
-'Come! away to bed, children. You can learn Dennis's troubles
-another time.' The children would have lingered, but again the
-words, 'Away with you!' in a tone which never needed repetition,
-were decisive: they kissed their parents and withdrew. In a few
-seconds the father rang the bell. 'Send Dennis Croggan here.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The old man appeared. He was a little thin man, of not less
-than seventy years of age, with white hair and a dark spare countenance.
-He was one of those nondescript servants in a large
-Irish house, whose duties are curiously miscellaneous. He had,
-however, shown sufficient zeal and fidelity through a long life, to
-secure a warm nook in the servants' hall for the remainder of his
-days.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Dennis entered with an humble and timid air, as conscious
-that he had deeply offended; and had to dread at least a severe
-rebuke. He bowed profoundly to both the master and mistress.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What is the meaning of your interruptions during the prayers,
-Dennis?' demanded the master abruptly. 'Has any thing
-happened to you?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No, sir.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Any thing amiss in your son's family?'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'No, your honour.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The interrogator paused; a storm of passion seemed slowly
-gathering within him. Presently he asked in a loud tone, 'What
-does this mean? Was there no place to vent your nonsense in,
-but in this room, and at prayers?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Dennis was silent. He cast an imploring look at the master,
-then at the mistress.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What is the matter, good Dennis?' asked the lady, in a kind
-tone. 'Compose yourself, and tell us. Something strange must
-have happened to you.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Dennis trembled violently; but he advanced a couple of paces,
-seized the back of a chair as if to support him, and, after a vain
-gasp or two, declared, as intelligibly as fear would permit, that the
-prayer had overcome him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Nonsense, man!' exclaimed the master, with fury in the same
-face, which was so lately beaming with joy on the children. 'Nonsense!
-Speak out without more ado, or you shall rue it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Dennis looked to the mistress as if he would have implored
-her intercession; but as she gave no sign of it, he was compelled
-to speak; but in a brogue that would have been unintelligible to
-English ears. We therefore translate it:</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I could not help thinking of the poor people at Rathbeg, when
-the soldiers and police cried, "Down with them! down with them,
-even to the ground!" and then the poor bit cabins came down all
-in fire and smoke, amid the howls and cries of the poor creatures.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Oh! it was a fearful sight, your honour—it was, indeed—to see
-the poor women hugging their babies, and the houses where they
-were born burning in the wind. It was dreadful to see the old
-bedridden man lie on the wet ground among the few bits of furniture,
-and groan to his gracious God above. Oh, your honour! you
-never saw such a sight, or—you—sure a—it would never have
-been done!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Dennis seemed to let the last words out as if they were jerked
-from him by a sudden shock.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The master, whose face had changed during this speech to a
-livid hue of passion, his eyes blazing with rage, was in the act
-of rushing on old Dennis, when he was held back by his wife,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>
-who exclaimed, 'Oswald! be calm; let us hear what Dennis has
-to say. Go on, Dennis, go on.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The master stood still, breathing hard to overcome his rage.
-Old Dennis, as if seeing only his own thoughts, went on: 'O,
-bless your honour, if you had seen that poor frantic woman when
-the back of the cabin fell and buried her infant, where she thought
-she had laid it safe for a moment while she flew to part her husband
-and a soldier who had struck the other children with the
-flat of his sword, and bade them to troop off. Oh, your honour,
-but it was a killing sight. It was that came over me in the
-prayer, and I feared that we might be praying perdition on us
-all, when we prayed about our trespasses. If the poor creatures
-of Rathbeg should meet us, your honour, at Heaven's gate (I was
-thinking) and say—These are the heathens that would not let us
-have a poor hearth-stone in poor ould Ireland.—And that was all,
-your honour, that made me misbehave so; I was just thinking
-of that, and I could not help it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Begone, you old fool!' exclaimed the master; and Dennis
-disappeared with a bow and an alertness that would have done
-credit to his earlier years.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There was a moment's silence after his exit. The lady turned
-to her husband, and clasping his arm with her hands and looking
-into his darkened countenance with a look of tenderest anxiety,
-said:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Dearest Oswald, let me, as I have so often done, once more
-entreat that these dreadful evictions may cease. Surely there
-must be some way to avert them and to set your property right,
-without such violent measures.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The stern proud man said, 'Then why, in the name of Heaven,
-do you not reveal some other remedy? why do you not enlighten
-all Ireland? why don't you instruct Government? The
-unhappy wretches who have been swept away by force are no
-people, no tenants of mine; they squatted themselves down, as a
-swarm of locusts fix themselves while a green blade is left; they
-obstruct all improvement; they will not till the ground themselves,
-nor will they quit it to allow me to provide more industrious
-and provident husbandmen to cultivate it. Land that teems
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>
-with fertility, and is shut out from hearing and bringing forth
-food for man, is accursed. Those who have been evicted not only
-rob me, but their more industrious fellows.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'They will murder us,' said the wife, 'some day for these
-things. They will—'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Her words were cut short suddenly by her husband starting,
-and standing in a listening attitude. 'Wait a moment,' he said,
-with a peculiar calmness, as if he had just got a fresh thought;
-and his lady, who did not comprehend what was the cause, but
-hoped that some better influence was touching him, unloosed her
-hands from his arm. 'Wait just a moment,' he repeated, and
-stepped from the room, opened the front door, and, without his
-hat, went out.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'He is intending to cool down his anger,' thought his wife;
-'he feels a longing for the freshness of the air,' But she had not
-caught the sound which had startled his quicker, because more
-excited ear; she had been too much engrossed by her own intercession
-with him; it was a peculiar whine from the mastiff, which
-was chained near the lodge-gate, that had arrested his attention.
-He stepped out. The black clouds which overhung the moor had
-broken, and the moon's light straggled between them.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The tall and haughty man stood erect in the breeze and listened.
-Another moment-there was a shot, and he fell headlong
-upon the broad steps on which he stood. His wife sprang with a
-piercing shriek from the door and fell on his corpse. A crowd
-of servants gathered about them, making wild lamentations and
-breathing vows of vengeance. The murdered master and the wife
-were borne into the house.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The heron soared from its lofty perch, and wheeled with terrified
-wings through the night air. The servants armed themselves,
-and, rushing furiously from the house, traversed the surrounding
-masses of trees; fierce dogs were let loose, and dashed
-frantically through the thickets: all was, however, too late. The
-soaring heron saw gray figures, with blackened faces, stealing
-away—often on their hands and knees—down the hollows of the
-moorlands toward the village, where the two Irish horsemen had,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span>
-in the first dusk of that evening, tied their lean steeds to the old
-elder bush.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Near the mansion no lurking assassin was to be found. Meanwhile
-two servants, pistol in hand, on a couple of their master's
-horses, scoured hill and dale. The heron, sailing solemnly on
-the wind above, saw them halt in a little town. They thundered
-with the butt-ends of their pistols on a door in the principal street;
-over it there was a coffin-shaped board, displaying a painted crown
-and the big-lettered words, '<span class="sc">Police Station</span>.' The mounted servants
-shouted with might and main. A night-capped head issued
-from a chamber casement with—'What is the matter?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Out with you, police! out with all your strength, and lose
-not a moment. Mr. FitzGibbon, of Sporeen, is shot at his own
-door.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The casement was hastily clapped to, and the two horsemen
-galloped forward up the long, broad street, now flooded with the
-moon's light. Heads full of terror were thrust from upper windows
-to inquire the cause of that rapid galloping, but ever too
-late. The two men held their course up a steep hill outside of
-the town, where stood a vast building overlooking the whole place;
-it was the barracks. Here the alarm was also given.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In less than an hour a mounted troop of police in olive-green
-costume, with pistols at holster, sword by side, and carbine on the
-arm, were trotting briskly out of town, accompanied by the two
-messengers, whom they plied with eager questions. These answered,
-and sundry imprecations vented, the whole party increased
-their speed, and went on, mile after mile, by hedgerow and open
-moorland, talking as they went.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Before they reached the house of Sporeen, and near the village
-where the two Irish horsemen had stopped the evening before,
-they halted and formed themselves into more orderly array. A
-narrow gully was before them on the road, hemmed in on each
-side by rocky steeps, here and there overhung with bushes. The
-commandant bade them be on their guard, for there might be
-danger there. He was right; for the moment they began to trot
-through the pass, the flash and rattle of firearms from the thickets
-above saluted them, followed by a wild yell. In a second,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span>
-several of their number lay dead or dying in the road. The fire
-was returned promptly by the police, but it was at random; for,
-although another discharge and another howl announced that the
-enemy were still there, no one could be seen. The head of the
-police commanded his troops to make a dash through the pass;
-for there was no scaling the heights from this side, the assailants
-having warily posted themselves there, because at the foot of the
-eminence were stretched on either hand impassable bogs. The
-troop dashed forward, firing their pistols as they went, but were
-met by such deadly discharges of firearms as threw them into
-confusion, killed and wounded several of their horses, and made
-them hastily retreat.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There was nothing for it but to await the arrival of the cavalry;
-and it was not long before the clatter of horses' hoofs and
-the ringing of sabres were heard on the road. On coming up,
-the troop of cavalry, firing to the right and left on the hillsides,
-dashed forward, and, in the same instant, cleared the gully in
-safety, the police having kept their side of the pass. In fact, not
-a single shot was returned, the arrival of this strong force having
-warned the insurgents to decamp. The cavalry, in full charge,
-ascended the hills to their summits. Not a foe was to be seen,
-except one or two dying men, who were discovered by their groans.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The moon had been for a time quenched in a dense mass of
-clouds, which now were blown aside by a keen and cutting wind.
-The heron, soaring over the desert, could now see gray-coated
-men flying in different directions to the shelter of the neighbouring
-hills. The next day he was startled from his dreamy reveries
-near the moorland stream, by the shouts and galloping of mingled
-police and soldiers, as they gave chase to a couple of haggard,
-bare-headed, and panting peasants. These were soon captured,
-and at once recognised as belonging to the evicted inhabitants of
-the recently deserted village.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Since then years have rolled on. The heron, who had been
-startled from his quiet haunts by these things, was still dwelling
-on the lofty tree with his kindred, by the hall of Sporeen. He
-had reared family after family in that airy lodgment, as spring
-after spring came round; but no family, after that fatal time,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>
-had ever tenanted the mansion. The widow and children had
-fled from it so soon as Mr. FitzGibbon had been laid in the grave.
-The nettle and dock flourished over the scorched ruins of the village
-of Rathbeg; dank moss and wild grass tangled the proud
-drives and walks of Sporeen. All the woodland rides and pleasure-grounds
-lay obstructed with briers; and young trees in time
-grew luxuriantly where once the roller in its rounds could not
-crush a weed; the nimble frolics of the squirrel were now the
-only merry things where formerly the feet of lovely children had
-sprung with elastic joy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The curse of Ireland was on the place. Landlord and tenant,
-gentleman and peasant, each with the roots and the shoots of
-many virtues in their hearts, thrown into a false position by the
-mutual injuries of ages, had wreaked on each other the miseries
-sown broadcast by their ancestors. Beneath this foul spell men
-who would, in any other circumstances, have been the happiest
-and the noblest of mankind, became tyrants; and peasants, who
-would have glowed with grateful affection toward them, exulted
-in being their assassins. As the traveller rode past the decaying
-hall, the gloomy woods, and waste black moorlands of Sporeen,
-he read the riddle of Ireland's fate, and asked himself when an
-Œdipus would arise to solve it."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">A large number of the peasantry of Connemara, a
-rocky and romantic region, are among the most recent
-evictions.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"These hardy mountaineers, whose lives, and the lives of their
-fathers and great-grandfathers have been spent in reclaiming the
-barren hills where their hard lot has been cast, were the victims
-of a series of oppressions unparalleled in the annals of Irish misrule.
-They were thickly planted over the rocky surface of Connemara
-for political purposes. In the days of the 40<i>s.</i> freeholder,
-they were driven to the hustings like a flock of sheep, to register
-not alone one vote, but in many instances three or four votes each;
-and it was no uncommon thing to see those unfortunate serfs
-evicted from their holdings when an election had terminated—
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>
-not that they refused to vote according to the wish of their landlords,
-but because they did not go far enough in the sin of perjury
-and the diabolical crime of impersonation. When they
-ceased to possess any political importance, they were cast away
-like broken tools. It was no uncommon thing, in the wilds of
-Connemara, to see the peasantry, after an election, coming before
-the Catholic Archbishop, when holding a visitation of his diocese,
-to proclaim openly the crime of impersonation which their landlords
-compelled them to commit, and implore forgiveness for
-such. Of this fact we have in the town of Galway more than one
-living witness; so that, while every thing was done, with few exceptions,
-to demoralize the peasantry of Connemara, and plant in
-their souls the germs of that slavery which is so destructive to
-the growth of industry, enterprise, or manly exertion—no compassion
-for their wants was ever evinced—no allowance for their
-poverty and inability to meet the rack-renting demands of their
-landlords was ever made."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Perhaps, it requires no Œdipus to tell what will be
-the future of the Irish nation, if the present system of
-slavery is maintained by their English conquerors. If
-they do not cease to exist as a people, they will continue
-to quaff the dark waters of sorrow, and to pay a
-price, terrible to think of, for the mere privilege of
-existence.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">During the famine of 1847, the heartlessness of many
-Irish landlords was manifested by their utter indifference
-to the multitudes starving around their well-supplied
-mansions. At that period, the Rev. A. King, of Cork,
-wrote to the Southern Reporter as follows:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The town and the surrounding country for many miles are
-possessed by twenty-six proprietors, whose respective yearly incomes
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>
-vary from one hundred pounds, or less, to several thousands.
-They had all been respectfully informed of the miserable
-condition of the people, and solicited to give relief. Seventeen of
-the number had not the politeness to answer the letters of the
-committee, four had written to say they would not contribute, and
-the remaining five had given a miserable fraction of what they
-ought to have contributed. My first donation from a small
-portion of a small relief fund, received from English strangers,
-exceeded the aggregate contributions of six-and-twenty landed
-proprietors, on whose properties human beings were perishing
-from famine, filth, and disease, amid circumstances of wretchedness
-appalling to humanity and disgraceful to civilized men! I
-believe it my sacred duty to gibbet this atrocity in the press, and
-to call on benevolent persons to loathe it as a monster crime.
-Twenty-one owners of property, on which scores, nay hundreds,
-of their fellow-creatures are dying of hunger, give nothing to save
-their lives! Are they not virtually guilty of wholesale murder?
-I ask not what human law may decide upon their acts, but in the
-name of Christianity I arraign them as guilty of treason against
-the rights of humanity and the laws of God!"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">It is to escape the responsibility mentioned by Mr.
-King, as well as to avoid the payment of poor-rates, that
-the landlords resort to the desolating process of eviction.
-To show the destructive nature of the tyrannical
-system that has so long prevailed in Ireland, we will
-take an abstract of the census of 1841 and 1851.</p>
-
-<table id="CENSUS" summary="Census of 1841 and 1851">
- <tr>
- <th></th>
- <th></th>
- <th style="text-align:center;">1841</th>
- <th></th>
- <th style="text-align:center;">1851</th>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Houses:</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Inhabited</td>
- <td class="c3">1,328,839</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">1,047,935</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Uninhabited, built</td>
- <td class="c3">52,203</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">65,159</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">"</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">"<span style="padding-left:2.5em;">building
- </span></td>
- <td class="c3">3,318</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">2,113</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c3">————</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">————</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">Total</td>
- <td class="c3">1,384,360</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">1,115,207</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Families</td>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c3">1,472,287</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">1,207,002</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Persons:</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Males</td>
- <td class="c3">4,019,576</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">3,176,727 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a>
- </span></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">"</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Females</td>
- <td class="c3">4,155,548</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">3,339,067</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c3">————</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">————</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">Total</td>
- <td class="c3">8,175,124</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">6,515,794</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Population in 1841</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">8,175,124</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">"<span style="padding-left:2.5em;">1851</span></td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">6,515,794</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">————</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">Decrease</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">1,659,330</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td colspan="2" class="c1">Or, at the rate of 20 per cent.</td>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Population in 1821</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">6,801,827</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">"<span style="padding-left:2.5em;">1831</span></td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">7,767,401</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">"<span style="padding-left:2.5em;">1841</span></td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">8,175,124</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">"<span style="padding-left:2.5em;">1851</span></td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- <td class="c3">6,515,794</td>
- <td class="c3"></td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p>
-Or, 286,030 souls fewer than in 1821, thirty years ago.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"We shall impress the disastrous importance of the reduction
-in the number of the people on our readers, by placing before
-them a brief account of the previous progress of the population.
-There is good reason to suppose, that, prior to the middle of the
-last century, the people continually, though slowly, increased; but
-from that time something like authentic but imperfect records give
-the following as their numbers at successive periods:—</p>
-
-<table class="narrow" id="POPULATION_INCREASE" summary="Population Increase">
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1754</td>
- <td class="c2">2,372,634</td>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1767</td>
- <td class="c2">2,544,276</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">Increase per cent.</td>
- <td class="c2">7·2</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1777</td>
- <td class="c2">2,690,556</td>
- <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td>
- <td class="c2">5·7</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1785</td>
- <td class="c2">2,845,932</td>
- <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td>
- <td class="c2">5·8</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1805</td>
- <td class="c2">5,359,456</td>
- <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td>
- <td class="c2">84·0</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1813</td>
- <td class="c2">5,937,858</td>
- <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td>
- <td class="c2">10·8</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1821</td>
- <td class="c2">6,801,829</td>
- <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td>
- <td class="c2">14·6</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1831</td>
- <td class="c2">7,767,401</td>
- <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td>
- <td class="c2">14·9</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1841</td>
- <td class="c2">8,175,124</td>
- <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td>
- <td class="c2">5·3</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1851</td>
- <td class="c2">6,515,794</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">Decrease</td>
- <td class="c2">20·0</td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p class="i1">"Though there are some discrepancies in these figures, and probably
-the number assigned to 1785 is too small, and that assigned
-to 1805 too large, they testify uniformly to a continual increase of
-the people for eighty-seven years, from 1754 to 1841. Now, for
-the first time in nearly a century, a complete change has set in,
-and the population has decreased in the last ten years 20 per cent.
-It is 1,659,330 less than in 1841, and less by 286,033 than in 1821.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"But this is not quite all. The census of 1851 was taken 68 days
-earlier than the census of 1841; and it is obvious, if the same rate
-of decrease continued through those 68 days, as has prevailed on
-the average through the ten years, that the whole amount of decrease
-would be so much greater. Sixty-eight days is about the
-54th part of ten years—say the 50th part; and the 50th part of
-the deficiency is 33,000 odd—say 30,000. We must add 30,000,
-therefore, to the 1,659,330, making 1,689,330, to get the true
-amount of the diminution of the people in ten years.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Instead of the population increasing in a healthy manner, implying
-an increase in marriages, in families, and in all the affections
-connected with them, and implying an increase in general
-prosperity, as for nearly a century before, and now amounting,
-as we might expect, to 8,600,000, it is 2,000,000 less. This is a
-disastrous change in the life of the Irish. At this downward rate,
-decreasing 20 per cent. in ten years, five such periods would suffice
-to exterminate the whole population more effectually than the Indians
-have been exterminated from North America. Fifty years
-of this new career would annihilate the whole population of Ireland,
-and turn the land into an uninhabited waste. This is a
-terrible reverse in the condition of a people, and is the more
-remarkable because in the same period the population of Great
-Britain has increased 12 per cent., and because there is no other
-example of a similar decay in any part of Europe in the same
-time, throughout which the population has continued to increase,
-though not everywhere equally, nor so fast as in Great Britain.
-Indeed, it may be doubted whether the annals of mankind can
-supply, in a season of peace—when no earthquakes have toppled
-down cities, no volcanoes have buried them beneath their ashes,
-and no inroads of the ocean have occurred—such wholesale diminution
-of the population and desolation of the country.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The inhabited houses in Ireland have decreased from 1,328,839
-in 1841 to 1,047,735 in 1851, or 281,104, (21·2 per cent.,) and
-consequently more than the population, who are now worse lodged
-and more crowded in relation to houses than they were in 1841.
-As the uninhabited houses have increased only 12,951, no less
-than 268,153 houses must have been destroyed in the ten years.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>
-That informs us of the extent of the 'clearances' of which we
-have heard so much of late; and the 1,659,300 people less in the
-country is an index to the number of human beings who inhabited
-the houses destroyed. We must remember, too, that within the
-period a number of union workhouses have been built in Ireland,
-capable of accommodating 308,885 persons, and that, besides the
-actual diminution of the number of the people, there has been a
-change in their habits, about 300,000 having become denizens of
-workhouses, who, prior to 1841, lived in their own separate huts.
-With distress and destruction pauperism has also increased.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The decrease has not been equal for the males and females;
-the numbers were as follows.—</p>
-
-<table class="narrow" id="POPULATION_DECREASE" summary="Population Decrease">
- <tr>
- <th class="c1"></th>
- <th class="c2" style="text-align:center;">1841</th>
- <th class="c2" style="text-align:center;">1851</th>
- <th class="c2"></th>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Males</td>
- <td class="c2">4,019,576</td>
- <td class="c2">3,176,124</td>
- <td class="c2">Decrease 20·9 per cent.</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">Females</td>
- <td class="c2">4,155,548</td>
- <td class="c2">3,336,067</td>
- <td class="c2"><span style="padding-right:1.2em;">"</span><span
- style="padding-right:1.0em;">29·6</span> <span style="padding-right:2em;">"</span></td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p class="i1">"The females now exceed the males by 162,943, or 2 per cent.
-on the whole population. It is not, however, that the mortality
-has been greater among the males than the females, but that more
-of the former than of the latter have escaped from the desolation.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Another important feature of the returns is the increase of
-the town population:—Dublin, 22,124, or 9 per cent.; Belfast,
-24,352, or 32 per cent.; Galway, 7422, or 43 per cent.; Cork,
-5765, or 7 per cent. Altogether, the town population has increased
-71,928, or nearly 1 per cent., every town except Londonderry
-displaying the same feature; and that increase makes the
-decrease of the rural population still more striking. The whole
-decrease is of the agricultural classes: Mr. O'Connell's 'finest
-pisantry' are the sufferers."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The London Illustrated News, in an article upon the
-census, says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The causes of the decay of the people, subordinate to inefficient
-employment and to wanting commerce and manufactures,
-are obviously great mortality, caused by the destruction of the
-potatoes and the consequent want of food, the clearance system,
-and emigration. From the retarded increase of the population
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>
-between 1831 and 1841—only 5·3 per cent., while in the previous
-ten years it had been nearly 15 per cent.—it may be inferred
-that the growth of the population was coming to a stand-still
-before 1841, and that the late calamities only brought it down to
-its means of continued subsistence, according to the distribution
-of property and the occupations of the people. The potato rot,
-in 1846, was a somewhat severer loss of that root than had before
-fallen on the Irish, who have suffered occasionally from famines
-ever since their history began; and it fell so heavily on them
-then, because they were previously very much and very generally
-impoverished. Thousands, and even millions, of them subsisted
-almost exclusively on lumpers, the very worst kind of potatoes,
-and were reduced in health and strength when they were overtaken
-by the dearth of 1846. The general smallness of their
-consumption, and total abstinence from the use of tax paying
-articles, is made painfully apparent by the decrease of the population
-of Ireland having had no sensible influence in reducing the
-revenue. They were half starved while alive. Another remarkable
-fact which we must notice is, that, while the Irish population
-have thus been going to decay, the imports and exports of the
-empire have increased in a much more rapid ratio than the
-population of Great Britain. For them, therefore, exclusively, is
-the trade of the empire carried on, and the Irish who have been
-swept away, without lessening the imports and exports, have had
-no share in our commerce. It is from these facts apparent, that,
-while they have gone to decay, the population of Great Britain
-have increased their well-being and their enjoyments much more
-than their numbers. We need not remind our readers of the
-dreadful sufferings of the Irish in the years 1847, 1848, and 1849;
-for the accounts we then published of them were too melancholy
-to be forgotten. As an illustration, we may observe that the
-Irish Poor-law Commissioners, in their fourth report, dated May
-5, 1851, boast that the 'worst evils of the famine, such as the
-occurrence of <i>deaths by the wayside</i>, a high rate of mortality in
-the workhouses, and the prevalence of dangerous and contagious
-diseases in or out of the workhouse, have undergone a very material
-abatement.' There have been, then, numerous deaths by
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>
-the wayside, alarming contagious diseases, and great mortality
-in the workhouses."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The Poor-law Commissioners kept a most mysterious
-silence during the worst period of the famine; and, it
-was only when the horrors of that time were known to
-the whole civilized world that they reported the "abatement
-of the evils." Perhaps, they had become so accustomed
-to witnessing misery in Ireland that even the
-famine years did not startle them into making a
-humane appeal to the British government upon behalf
-of the sufferers.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The Illustrated News, in the same article we have
-quoted above, says, quite sensibly, but with scarcely a
-due appreciation of the causes of Ireland's decay—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The decline of the population has been greatest in Connaught;
-now the Commissioners tell us that in 1847 the maximum rate
-of mortality in the workhouses of that province was 43.6 per
-week in a thousand persons, so that in about 23 weeks at this
-rate the whole 1000 would be dead. The maximum rate of
-mortality in all the workhouses in that year was 25 per 1000
-weekly, or the whole 1000 would die in something more than 39
-weeks. That was surely a very frightful mortality. It took place
-among that part of the population for which room was found in
-the workhouses; and among the population out of the workhouses
-perishing by the wayside, the mortality must have been still more
-frightful. We are happy to believe, on the assurance of the commissioners,
-that matters are now improved, that workhouse accommodation
-is to be had—with one exception, Kilrush—for all
-who need it; that the expense of keeping the poor is diminished;
-that contagious disorders are less frequent, and that the rate of
-mortality has much declined. But the statement that such improvements
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>
-have taken place, implies the greatness of the past
-sufferings. There can be no doubt, therefore, that the decay of
-the population has partly arisen from increased mortality on the
-one hand, and from decreasing marriages and decreasing births
-on the other. Now that the Irish have a poor-law fairly administered,
-we may expect that, in future, such terrible scenes as were
-witnessed in 1847-49 will not again occur. But the state which
-authorized the landlords, by a law, to clear their estates of the
-peasantry, as if they were vermin, destroying, as we have seen,
-268,153 dwellings, without having previously imposed on those
-landlords the obligation of providing for the people, did a great
-wrong, and the decay of the people now testifies against it.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"With reference to emigration—the least objectionable mode of
-getting rid of a population—there are no correct returns kept of
-the number of Irish who emigrate, because a great part of them
-go from Liverpool, and are set down in the returns as emigrants
-from England. It is supposed by those best acquainted with the
-subject, that more than nine-tenths of the emigrants from Liverpool
-are Irish. Taking that proportion, therefore, and adding it
-to the emigrants who proceed direct from Ireland, the number
-of Irish emigrants from 1842 to the present year was—</p>
-
-<table class="narrow" id="POPULATION_DECREASE-2" summary="Population Decrease">
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1843</td>
- <td class="c2">39,549</td>
- <td class="c1">│</td>
- <td class="c1">1847</td>
- <td class="c2">214,970</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1844</td>
- <td class="c2">55,910</td>
- <td class="c1">│</td>
- <td class="c1">1848</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1845</td>
- <td class="c2">177,720</td>
- <td class="c1">│</td>
- <td class="c1">1849</td>
- <td class="c2">208,759</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1846</td>
- <td class="c2">106,767</td>
- <td class="c1">│</td>
- <td class="c1">1850</td>
- <td class="c2">207,853</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c2">————</td>
- <td class="c1">│</td>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c2">————</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:1em;">Total, 4 years,</span></td>
- <td class="c2">278,749</td>
- <td class="c1">│</td>
- <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:1em;">Total, 4 years,</span></td>
- <td class="c2">809,302</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td colspan="2" class="c1" style="padding-left:8em;">Total, 8 years</td>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td colspan="2" class="c1" style="padding-left:2em;">1,088,051.</td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p class="i1">"If we add 70,000 for the two first years of the decennial period
-not included in the return, we shall have 1,158,051 as the total
-emigration of the ten years. It was probably more than that—it
-could not well have been less. To this we must add the number
-of Irish who came to England and Scotland, of whom no account
-is kept. If we put them down at 30,000 a year, we shall have
-for the ten years 300,000; or the total expatriation of the Irish in
-the ten years may be assumed at 1,458,000, or say 1,500,000. At
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>
-first sight this appears a somewhat soothing explanation of
-the decline of the Irish population; but, on being closely examined,
-it diminishes the evil very little in one sense, and threatens
-to enhance it in another.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"So far as national strength is concerned, it is of no consequence
-whether the population die out or emigrate to another state,
-except that, if the other state be a rival or an enemy, it may be
-worse for the parent state that the population emigrate than be
-annihilated. In truth, the Irish population in the United States,
-driven away formerly by persecution, have imbittered the feelings
-of the public there against England. Emigration is only
-very beneficial, therefore, when it makes room for one at home
-for every one removed. Such is the emigration from England to
-her colonies or to the United States, with which she has intimate
-trade relations; but such is not the case with the emigration
-from Ireland, for there we find a frightful void. No one fills the
-emigrant's place. He flies from the country because he cannot
-live in it; and being comparatively energetic, we may infer that
-few others can. In the ordinary course, had the 1,500,000 expatriated
-people remained, nearly one-third of them would have
-died in the ten years; they would have increased the terrible
-mortality, and, without much adding to the present number of
-the people, would have added to the long black catalogue of
-death.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"For the emigrants themselves removal is a great evil, a mere
-flying from destruction. The Poor-law Commissioners state that
-the number of pauper emigrants sent from Ireland in 1850 was
-about 1800, or less than one per cent. of the whole emigration;
-the bulk of the emigrants were not paupers, but persons of some
-means as well as of some energy. They were among the best
-of the population, and they carried off capital with them—leaving
-the decrepit, the worn-out, and the feeble behind them; the
-mature and the vigorous, the seed of future generations, went out
-of the land, and took with them the means of future increase.
-We doubt, therefore, whether such an emigration as that from
-Ireland within the last four years will not be more fatal to its
-future prosperity than had the emigrants swelled the mortality at
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>
-home. All the circumstances now enumerated tend to establish
-the conclusion, that, for the state, and for the people who remain
-behind, it is of very little consequence whether a loss of population,
-such as that in Ireland, be caused by an excessive mortality
-or excessive emigration.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"To the emigrants themselves, after they have braved the pain
-of the separation and the difficulties of the voyage, and after they
-are established in a better home, the difference is very great; but
-it may happen that, to Ireland as a state, their success abroad
-will be rather dangerous than beneficial. On the whole, emigration
-does not account for the decrease of people; and if it did
-account for it, would not afford us the least consolation."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In the above article, the Kilrush Union is mentioned
-as an exception to the general improvement in Ireland,
-in respect to workhouse accommodation. Mr. Sidney
-Godolphin Osborne, the able and humane correspondent
-of the London Times, can enlighten us in regard to
-the treatment of the poor of Kilrush in 1851.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"I am sorry to be compelled again to call public attention to
-the state of things in the above ill-fated union. I do not dispute
-the interest which must attach to the transactions of the Encumbered
-Estates Court, the question of the so-called Godless Colleges,
-the campaign now commencing against the national
-schools, and the storm very naturally arising against the Papal
-Aggression Bill, in a country so Catholic as Ireland. But I must
-claim some interest upon the part of the British public on the
-question of life and death now cruelly working out in the West of
-Ireland.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The accommodation for paupers in the Kilrush union-houses
-was, in the three weeks ending the 8th, 15th, and 22d of this
-month, calculated for 4654; in the week ending the 8th of March
-there were 5005 inmates, 56 deaths!—in the week ending the 15th
-of March, 4980 inmates, 68 deaths!—in the week ending the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>
-22d of March, 4868 inmates, 79 deaths! That is to say, <i>there
-were 203 deaths in 21 days</i>. I last week called your attention to
-the fact of the over-crowding and the improper feeding of the poor
-creatures in these houses, as proved by a report made by the
-medical officer on the 1st of February, repeated on the 22d, and,
-at the time of my letter, evidently unheeded. Behold the result—79
-deaths in a population of under 5000 in one week! I have, I
-regret to say, besides these returns, a large mass of returns of
-deaths outside the house, evidently the result of starvation; on
-some, coroners' juries have admitted it to be so.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Eye-witnesses of the highest respectability, as well as my own
-paid agent, report to me the state of the town and neighbourhood
-of the workhouse on the admission-days in characters quite horrifying:
-between 100 and 200 poor, half-starved, almost naked
-creatures may be seen by the roadside, under the market-house—in
-short, wherever the famished, the houseless, and the cold can
-get for a night's shelter. Many have come twelve Irish miles to
-seek relief, and then have been refused, though their sunken eyes
-and projecting bones write the words 'destitute' and 'starving'
-in language even the most callous believers in pauper cunning
-could not misunderstand. I will defy contradiction to the fact,
-that the business of the admission-days is conducted in a way
-which forbids common justice to the applicants; it is a mere
-mockery to call the scene of indecent hurry and noisy strife between
-guardians, officers, and paupers, which occupies the few
-hours weekly given to this work, a hearing of applicants.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I have before me some particulars of a visit of inspection paid
-to these houses a short time since by a gentleman whose position
-and whose motives are above all cavil for respectability and integrity;
-I have a mass of evidence, voluntarily given me, from
-sources on which I can place implicit confidence, all tending to
-one and the same point. The mortality so fast increasing can
-only be ascribed to the insufficiency of the out-relief given to the
-destitute, and the crowding and improper diet of the in-door paupers.
-From the published statement of the half-year ending
-September 29, 1850, signed 'C. M. Vandeleur, chairman,' I find
-there were 1014 deaths in that said half-year. Average weekly
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>
-cost per head—food, 11¼<i>d.</i>; clothing, 2<i>d.</i> I shall look with
-anxiety for the return of the half-year just ended; it will be a
-curious document, as emanating from a board the chairman of
-which has just trumpeted in your columns with regard to this
-union, 'that the lands, with little exception, are well occupied,
-and a spirit of industry visible among all classes.' It will at
-least prove a more than usual occupation of burying-land, and a
-spirit of increased energy in the grave-digging class.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"With regard to the diet of the old and infirm, I can conceive
-it possible that since the publication of my last letter there may
-be some improvement, though I am not yet aware of it. I am
-now prepared to challenge all contradiction to the fact that the
-diet has been not only short of what it ought to be by the prescribed
-dietary, but, in the case of the bread, it has frequently
-been unfit for human food—such as very old or very young people
-could only touch under the pressure of famine, and could not,
-under any circumstances, sustain health upon.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Let the authorities investigate the deaths of the last six
-weeks, taking the cause of death from the medical officers, and
-how soon after admission each individual died; they will then,
-with me, cease to wonder that the poor creatures who come in
-starving should so soon sink, when the sanatory condition of the
-law's asylum is just that which would tell most severely even on
-the most healthy. I admit, sir, that Kilrush market may be well
-supplied with cheap food, but the evicted peasantry have no
-money, and vendors do not give. I admit that the season for the
-growth of nettles, and cornkale, and other weeds, the of late
-years normal food of these poor creatures, has not yet set in, and
-this I do not deny is all against them. I leave to the British
-public the forming any conclusion they like from this admission.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"What I now contend for is this—that in a particular part of
-Great Britain there are certain workhouses, asylums for the destitute,
-supervised by salaried inspectors, directly under the cognizance
-of the Government, in which the crowding of the sick is
-most shameful, the diet equally so. The mortality for the weeks
-ending January 25 to March 22—484, upon a population which
-in those weeks never exceeded 5200 souls! I believe these to be
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>
-facts which cannot be disputed, and I claim on them the immediate
-interference of the Government, and the more especially as
-the chairman of this union makes a public favourable comparison
-between it and the union of Ennistymon, in the same county. I
-am myself prepared, on very short notice, to go over at my own
-expense with any person of respectability from this country, appointed
-by Government, and I have no doubt we shall prove that
-I have, if any thing, understated matters; if so, am I wrong, sir,
-in saying, that such a state of things, within a twenty hours'
-journey from London, is in a sad and shameful contrast to the
-expected doings of the 'World's Fair' on English ground? <i>When,
-the other day, I looked on the Crystal Palace, and thought of Kilrush
-workhouse, as I have seen it and now know it to be, I confess I
-felt, as a Christian and the subject of a Christian Government,
-utter disgust.</i> Again, sir, I thank you from my heart for your
-indulgence to these my cries for justice for Ireland."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Alas! poor country, where each hour teems with a
-new grievance; where tyranny is so much a custom
-that the very institutions which have charity written
-upon their front are turned to dangerous pest-houses,
-slaving shops, or tombs; where to toil even to extremity
-is to be rewarded with semi-starvation in styes, and,
-perhaps, by sudden eviction, and a grave by the wayside;
-where to entertain certain religious convictions is
-to invite the whips of persecution, and the particular
-tyranny of the landlord who adheres to the Church of
-England; where to speak the faith of the heart, the
-opinions of the mind, is to sacrifice the food doled out
-by the serf-holders; where to live is to be considered a
-glorious mercy—to hope, something unfit for common
-men.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The struggles and achievements of Con McNale, as
-related in "Household Words," give us a tolerably
-truthful representation of the milder features of Irish
-peasant life. Con had better luck than most of his class,
-and knew better how to improve it. Yet the circumstances
-of his existence were certainly not those of a
-freeman:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"My father," said he, "lived under ould Squire Kilkelly, an'
-for awhile tinded his cattle; but the Squire's gone out iv this part
-iv the counthry, to Australia or some furrin part, an' the mentioned
-house (mansion-house) an' the fine property was sould, so
-it was, for little or nothin', for the fightin' was over in furrin
-parts; Boney was put down, an' there was no price for corn or
-cattle, an' a jontleman from Scotland came an' bought the istate.
-We were warned by the new man to go, for he tuk in his own
-hand all the in-land about the domain, bein' a grate farmer. He
-put nobody in our little place, but pulled it down, an' he guv
-father a five-guinea note, but my father was ould an' not able to
-face the world agin, an' he went to the town an' tuk a room—a
-poor, dirty, choky place it was for him, myself, and sisther to live
-in. The neighbours were very kind an' good though. Sister
-Bridget got a place wid a farmer hereabouts, an' I tuk the world
-on my own showlders. I had nothin' at all but the rags I stud
-up in, an' they were bad enuf. Poor Biddy got a shillin' advanced
-iv her wages that her masther was to giv her. She guv
-it me, for I was bent on goin' toward Belfast to look for work.
-All along the road I axed at every place; they could giv it me,
-but to no good; except when I axed, they'd giv me a bowl iv
-broth, or a piece iv bacon, or an oaten bannock, so that I had my
-shillin' to the fore when I got to Belfast.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Here the heart was near lavin' me all out intirely. I went
-wandtherin' down to the quay among the ships, and what should
-there be but a ship goin' to Scotland that very night wid pigs.
-In throth it was fun to see the sailors at cross-purposes wid 'em,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>
-for they didn't know the natur iv the bastes. I did. I knew how
-to coax 'em. I set to an' I deludhered an' coaxed the pigs, an'
-by pullin' them by the tail, knowing that if they took a fancy I
-wished to pull 'em back out of the ship they'd run might an' main
-into her, and so they did. Well, the sailors were mightily divarted,
-an' when the pigs was aboord I wint down to the place; an'
-the short iv it is that in three days I was in Glasgow town, an'
-the captain an' the sailors subscribed up tin shillins an' guv it
-into my hand. Well, I bought a raping-hook, an' away I trudged
-till I got quite an' clane into the counthry, an' the corn was here
-and there fit to cut. At last I goes an' ax a farmer for work. He
-thought I was too wake to be paid by the day, but one field havin'
-one corner fit to cut, an' the next not ready, 'Paddy,' says he,
-'you may begin in that corner, an' I'll pay yees by the work yees
-do,' an' he guv me my breakfast an' a pint of beer. Well, I never
-quit that masther the whole harvest, an' when the raping was
-over I had four goolden guineas to carry home, besides that I was
-as sthrong as a lion. Yees would wonder how glad the sailors
-was to see me back agin, an' ne'er a farthin' would they take
-back iv their money, but tuk me over agin to Belfast, givin' me
-the hoighth of good thratemint of all kinds. I did not stay an
-hour in Belfast, but tuk to the road to look afther the ould man
-an' little Biddy. Well, sorrows the tidins I got. The ould man
-had died, an' the grief an' disthress of poor little Biddy had even
-touched her head a little. The dacent people where she was, may
-the Lord reward 'em, though they found little use in her, kep her,
-hoping I would be able to come home an' keep her myself, an' so
-I was. I brought her away wid me, an' the sight iv me put new
-life in her. I was set upon not being idle, an' I'll tell yees what
-I did next.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"When I was little <i>bouchaleen</i> iv a boy I used to be ahead on
-the mountain face, an' 'twas often I sheltered myself behind them
-gray rocks that's at the gable iv my house; an' somehow it came
-into my head that the new Squire, being a grate man for improvin'
-might let me try to brake in a bit iv land there; an' so I goes
-off to him, an' one iv the sarvints bein' a sort iv cousin iv mine,
-I got to spake to the Squire, an' behould yees he guv me lave at
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>
-onst. Well, there's no time like the prisint, an' as I passed out
-iv the back yard of the mentioned (mansion) house, I sees the
-sawyers cutting some Norway firs that had been blown down by
-the storm, an' I tells the sawyers that I had got lave to brake in
-a bit iv land in the mountains, an' what would some pieces iv fir
-cost. They says they must see what kind of pieces they was that
-I wished for; an' no sooner had I set about looking 'em through
-than the Squire himself comes ridin' out of the stable-yard, an'
-says he at onst, 'McNale,' says he, 'you may have a load iv cuttins
-to build your cabin, or two if you need it.' 'The Heavens
-be your honour's bed,' says I, an' I wint off to the room where I
-an' Biddy lived, not knowin' if I was on my head or my heels.
-Next day, before sunrise, I was up here, five miles up the face
-of Slieve-dan, with a spade in my fist, an' I looked roun' for the
-most shiltered spot I could sit my eyes an. Here I saw, where
-the house an' yard are stan'in', a plot iv about an acre to the
-south iv that tall ridge of rocks, well sheltered from the blast
-from the north an' from the aste, an' it was about sunrise an' a
-fine morning in October that I tuk up the first spadeful. There
-was a spring then drippin' down the face iv the rocks, an' I saw
-at once that it would make the cabin completely damp, an' the
-land about mighty sour an' water-<i>slain</i>; so I determined to do
-what I saw done in Scotland. I sunk a deep drain right under
-the rock to run all along the back iv the cabin, an' workin' that
-day all alone by myself, I did a grate dale iv it. At night it was
-close upon dark when I started to go home, so I hid my spade in
-the heath an' trudged off. The next morning I bargained with a
-farmer to bring me up a load iv fir cuttins from the Squire's, an'
-by the evenin' they were thrown down within a quarter iv a mile
-iv my place, for there was no road to it then, an' I had to carry
-'em myself for the remainder of the way. This occupied me till
-near nightfall; but I remained that night till I placed two upright
-posts of fir, one at each corner iv the front iv the cabin.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I was detarmined to get the cabin finished as quickly as possible,
-that I might be able to live upon the spot, for much time
-was lost in goin' and comin'. The next day I was up betimes,
-an' finding a track iv stiff blue clay, I cut a multitude of thick
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span>
-square sods iv it, an' having set up two more posts at the remainin'
-two corners iv the cabin, I laid four rows iv one gable, rising
-it about three feet high. Havin' laid the rows, I sharpind three
-or four straight pine branches, an' druv them down through the
-sods into the earth, to pin the wall in its place. Next day I had
-a whole gable up, each three rows iv sods pinned through to the
-three benathe. In about eight days I had put up the four walls,
-makin' a door an' two windows; an' now my outlay began, for I
-had to pay a thatcher to put on the sthraw an' to assist me in
-risin' the rafthers. In another week it was covered in, an' it was
-a pride to see it with the new thatch an' a wicker chimbly daubed
-with clay, like a pallis undernathe the rock. I now got some
-turf that those who had cut 'em had not removed, an' they sould
-'em for a thrifle, an' I made a grate fire an' slept on the flure of
-my own house that night. Next day I got another load iv fir
-brought to make the partitions in the winter, an' in a day or two
-after I had got the inside so dhry that I was able to bring poor
-Biddy to live there for good and all. The Heavens be praised,
-there was not a shower iv rain fell from the time I began the
-cabin till I ended it, an' when the rain did fall, not a drop came
-through—all was carried off by my dhrain into the little river
-before yees.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The moment I was settled in the house I comminced dhraining
-about an acre iv bog in front, an' the very first winter I sowed
-a shillin's worth of cabbidge seed, an' sold in the spring a pound's
-worth of little cabbidge plants for the gardins in the town below.
-When spring came, noticin' how the early-planted praties did the
-best, I planted my cabbidge ground with praties, an' I had a
-noble crap, while the ground was next year fit for the corn. In
-the mane time, every winther I tuk in more and more ground,
-an' in summer I cut my turf for fewel, where the cuttins could
-answer in winther for a dhrain; an' findin' how good the turf
-were, I got a little powney an' carried 'em to the town to sell,
-when I was able to buy lime in exchange an' put it on my bog,
-so as to make it produce double. As things went on I got assistance,
-an' when I marrid, my wife had two cows that guv me a
-grate lift.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"I was always thought to be a handy boy, an' I could do a
-turn of mason-work with any man not riglarly bred to it; so I
-took one of my loads of lime, an' instead of puttin' it on the land,
-I made it into morthar—and indeed the stones being no ways
-scarce, I set to an' built a little kiln, like as I had seen down the
-counthry. I could then burn my own lime, an' the limestone
-were near to my hand, too many iv 'em. While all this was goin'
-on, I had riz an' sould a good dale iv oats and praties, an' every
-summer I found ready sale for my turf in the town from one jontleman
-that I always charged at an even rate, year by year. I
-got the help of a stout boy, a cousin iv my own, who was glad iv
-a shilter; an' when the childher were ould enough, I got some
-young cattle that could graze upon the mountain in places where
-no other use could be made iv the land, and set the gossoons to
-herd 'em.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There was one bit iv ground nigh han' to the cabin that puzzled
-me intirely. It was very poor and sandy, an' little better
-than a rabbit burrow; an' telling the Squire's Scotch steward iv
-it, he bade me thry some flax; an' sure enuf, so I did, an' a fine
-crap iv flax I had as you might wish to see; an' the stame-mills
-being beginnin' in the counthry at that time, I sould my flax for
-a very good price, my wife having dhried it, beetled it, an'
-scutched it with her own two hands.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I should have said before that the Squire himself came up
-here with a lot iv fine ladies and jontlemen to see what I had
-done; an' you never in your life seed a man so well plased as he
-was, an' a mimber of Parlimint from Scotland was with him, an'
-he tould me I was a credit to ould Ireland; an' sure didn't Father
-Connor read upon the papers, how he tould the whole story in
-the Parlimint house before all the lords an' quality. But faix,
-he didn't forgit me; for a month or two after he was here, an' it
-coming on the winter, comes word for me an' the powney to go
-down to the mentioned (mansion) house, for the steward wanted
-me. So away I wint, an' there, shure enuf, was an illigant Scotch
-plough, every inch of iron, an' a lot of young Norroway pines—the
-same you see shiltering the house an' yard—an' all was a free
-prisint for me from the Scotch jontleman that was the mimber
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>
-of Parlimint. 'Twas that plough that did the meracles iv work
-hereabouts; for I often lint it to any that I knew to be a careful
-hand, an' it was the manes iv havin' the farmers all round send
-an' buy 'em. At last I was able to build a brave snug house;
-and, praised be Providence, I have never had an hour's ill health
-nor a moment's grief, but when poor Biddy, the cratur, died from
-us. It is thirty years since that morning that I tuk up the first
-spadeful from the wild mountain side; an' twelve acres are good
-labour land, an' fifteen drained an' good grazin'. I have been
-payin' rint twinty years, an' am still, thank God, able to take my
-own part iv any day's work—plough, spade, or flail."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Have you got a lease?" said I.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"No, indeed, nor a schrape of a pin; nor I never axed it. Have
-I not my <i>tinnant-rite</i>?"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">At any moment the labours of poor Con might have
-been rendered of no benefit to him. He held the
-wretched hovel and the ground he tilled merely by the
-permission of the landlord, who could have desolated
-all by the common process of eviction; and Con would
-then have been driven to new exertions or to the workhouse.
-The rugged ballad of "Patrick Fitzpatrick's
-Farewell," presents a case more common than that of
-Con McNale:—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="verse">"Those three long years I've labour'd hard as any on Erin's isle,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">And still was scarcely able my family to keep;</div>
- <div class="verse">My tender wife and children three, under the lash of misery,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">Unknown to friends and neighbours, I've often seen to weep.</div>
- <div class="verse">Sad grief it seized her tender heart, when forced her only cow to
- part,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">And canted<a name="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a>
- <a href="#Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a>
- was before her face, the poor-rates for to pay;</div>
- <div class="verse">Cut down in all her youthful bloom, she's gone into her silent tomb;
- <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">Forlorn I will mourn her loss when in America."</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">In the same ballad we have an expression of the comparative
-paradise the Irish expect to find—and do find,
-by the way—in that land which excites so much the
-pity of the philanthropic aristocracy:—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="verse">"Let Erin's sons and daughters fair now for the promised land
- prepare,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">America, that beauteous soil, will soon your toil repay;</div>
- <div class="verse"><i>Employment, it is plenty there, on beef and mutton you can
- fare,</i></div>
- <div class="verse indent-2"><i>From five to six dollars is your wages every day</i>.</div>
- <div class="verse">Now see what money has come o'er these three years from Columbia's
- shore;</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">But for it numbers now were laid all in their silent clay;</div>
- <div class="verse">California's golden mines, my boys, are open now to crown our joys,</div>
- <div class="verse indent-2">So all our hardships we'll dispute when in America."</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">As an illustration of the manner in which eviction is
-sometimes effected by heartless landlords in Ireland, and
-the treatment which the lowly of Great Britain generally
-receive from those who become their masters, we
-may quote "Two Scenes in the Life of John Bodger,"
-from "Dickens's Household Words." The characters
-in this sketch are English; but the incidents are such
-as frequently occur in Ireland:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In the year 1832, on the 24th of December, one of those clear
-bright days that sometimes supersede the regular snowy, sleety
-Christmas weather, a large ship lay off Plymouth; the Blue Peter
-flying from her masthead, quarters of beef hanging from her mizzen-booms,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>
-and strings of cabbages from her stern rails; her decks
-crowded with coarsely-clad blue-nosed passengers, and lumbered
-with boxes, barrels, hen-coops, spars, and chain-cables. The wind
-was rising with a hollow, dreary sound. Boats were hurrying to
-and fro, between the vessel and the beach, where stood excited
-groups of old people and young children. The hoarse, impatient
-voices of officers issuing their commands, were mingled with the
-shrill wailing of women on the deck and the shore.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It was the emigrant ship 'Cassandra,' bound for Australia
-during the period of the 'Bounty' system, when emigration recruiters,
-stimulated by patriotism and a handsome percentage,
-rushed frantically up and down the country, earnestly entreating
-'healthy married couples,' and single souls of either sex, to accept
-a free passage to 'a land of plenty.' The English labourers had
-not then discovered that Australia was a country where masters
-were many and servants scarce. In spite of poverty and poorhouse
-fare, few of the John Bull family could be induced to give heed to
-flaming placards they could not read, or inspiring harangues
-they could not understand. The admirable education which in
-1832, at intervals of seven days, was distributed in homœopathic
-doses among the agricultural olive-branches of England, did not
-include modern geography, even when reading and writing were
-imparted. If a stray Sunday-school scholar did acquire a faint
-notion of the locality of Canaan, he was never permitted to travel
-as far as the British Colonies.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"To the ploughman out of employ, Canaan, Canada, and Australia
-were all '<i>furrin parts</i>;' he did not know the way to them;
-but he knew the way to the poorhouse, so took care to keep within
-reach of it.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Thus it came to pass that the charterers of the good ship 'Cassandra'
-were grievously out in their calculations; and failing to
-fill with English, were obliged to make up their complement with
-Irish; who, having nothing to fall upon, but the charity of the poor
-to the poorer, are always ready to go anywhere for a daily meal.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The steamers from Cork had transferred their ragged, weeping,
-laughing, fighting cargoes; the last stray groups of English had
-been collected from the western counties; the Government officers
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>
-had cleared and passed the ship. With the afternoon tide two
-hundred helpless, ignorant, destitute souls were to bid farewell to
-their native land. The delays consequent on miscalculating the
-emigrating taste of England had retarded until midwinter, a voyage
-which should have been commenced in autumn.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In one of the shore-boats, sat a portly man—evidently neither
-an emigrant nor a sailor—wrapped in a great coat and comforters;
-his broad-brimmed beaver secured from the freezing blast by a
-coloured bandanna tied under the chin of a fat, whiskerless face.
-This portly personage was Mr. Joseph Lobbit, proprietor of 'The
-Shop,' farmer, miller, and chairman of the vestry of the rich
-rural parish of Duxmoor.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"At Duxmoor, the chief estate was in Chancery, the manor-house
-in ruins, the lord of it an outlaw, and the other landed proprietors
-absentees, or in debt; a curate preached, buried, married,
-and baptized, for the health of the rector compelled him to pass
-the summer in Switzerland, and the winter in Italy; so Mr. Lobbit
-was almost the greatest, as he was certainly the richest, man in
-the parish.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Except that he did not care for any one but himself, and did
-not respect any one who had not plenty of money, he was not a bad
-sort of man. He had a jolly hearty way of talking and shaking
-hands, and slapping people on the back; and until you began to
-count money with him, he seemed a very pleasant, liberal fellow.
-He was fond of money, but more fond of importance; and therefore
-worked as zealously at parish-business as he did at his own
-farm, shop, and mill. He centred the whole powers of the vestry
-in one person, and would have been beadle, too, if it had been
-possible. He appointed the master and matron of the workhouse,
-who were relations of his wife; supplied all the rations and clothing
-for 'the house,' and fixed the prices in full vestry (viz. himself,
-and the clerk, his cousin,) assembled. He settled all the questions
-of out-door relief, and tried hard, more than once, to settle the rate
-of wages too.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Ill-natured people did say that those who would not work on
-Master Lobbit's farm, at <i>his</i> wages, stood a very bad chance if they
-wanted any thing from the parish, or came for the doles of blankets,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>
-coals, bread, and linsey-woolsey petticoats, which, under the provisions
-of the tablets in Duxmoor church, are distributed every
-Christmas. Of course, Mr. Lobbit supplied these gifts, as chief
-shopkeeper, and dispensed them, as senior and perpetual churchwarden.
-Lobbit gave capital dinners; plenty smoked on his
-board, and pipes of negro-head with jorums of gin punch followed,
-without stint.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The two attorneys dined with him—and were glad to come,
-for he had always money to lend, on good security, and his gin was
-unexceptionable. So did two or three bullfrog farmers, very rich
-and very ignorant. The doctor and curate came occasionally;
-they were poor, and in his debt at 'The Shop,' therefore bound to
-laugh at his jokes—which were not so bad, for he was no fool—so
-that, altogether, Mr. Lobbit had reason to believe himself a very
-popular man.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But there was—where is there not?—a black drop in his overflowing
-cup of prosperity.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"He had a son whom he intended to make a gentleman; whom
-he hoped to see married to some lady of good family, installed in
-the manor-house of Duxmoor, (if it should be sold cheap, at the
-end of the Chancery suit,) and established as the squire of the
-parish. Robert Lobbit had no taste for learning, and a strong
-taste for drinking, which his father's customers did their best to
-encourage. Old Lobbit was decent in his private habits; but, as
-he made money wherever he could to advantage, he was always
-surrounded by a levee of scamps, of all degrees—some agents and
-assistants, some borrowers, and would-be borrowers. Young
-Lobbit found it easier to follow the example of his father's companions
-than to follow his father's advice. He was as selfish and
-greedy as his father, without being so agreeable or hospitable.
-In the school-room he was a dunce, in the play-ground a tyrant
-and bully; no one liked him; but, as he had plenty of money,
-many courted him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"As a last resource his father sent him to Oxford; whence, after
-a short residence, he was expelled. He arrived home drunk, and
-in debt; without having lost one bad habit, or made one respectable
-friend. From that period he lived a sot, a village rake, the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>
-king of the taproom, and the patron of a crowd of blackguards,
-who drank his beer and his health; hated him for his insolence,
-and cheated him of his money.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Yet Joseph Lobbit loved his son, and tried not to believe the
-stories good-natured friends told of him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Another trouble fell upon the prosperous churchwarden. On
-the north side of the parish, just outside the boundaries of Duxmoor
-Manor, there had been, in the time of the Great Civil Wars,
-a large number of small freehold farmers: each with from forty to
-five acres of land; the smaller, fathers had divided among their
-progeny; the larger had descended to eldest sons by force of primogeniture.
-Joseph Lobbit's father had been one of these small
-freeholders. A right of pasture on an adjacent common was attached
-to these little freeholds; so, what with geese and sheep,
-and a cow or so, even the poorest proprietor, with the assistance
-of harvest work, managed to make a living, up to the time of the
-last war. War prices made land valuable, and the common was
-enclosed; though a share went to the little freeholders, and sons
-and daughters were hired, at good wages, while the enclosure was
-going on, the loss of the pasture for stock, and the fall of prices
-at the peace, sealed their fate. John Lobbit, our portly friend's
-father, succeeded to his little estate, of twenty acres, by the death
-of his elder brother, in the time of best war prices, after he had
-passed some years as a shopman in a great seaport. His first use
-of it was to sell it, and set up a shop in Duxmoor, to the great
-scandal of his farmer neighbours. When John slept with his
-fathers, Joseph, having succeeded to the shop and savings, began
-to buy land and lend money. Between shop credit to the five-acred
-and mortgages to the forty-acred men, with a little luck in
-the way of the useful sons of the freeholders being constantly enlisted
-for soldiers, impressed for sailors, or convicted for poaching
-offences, in the course of years Joseph Lobbit became possessed,
-not only of his paternal freehold, but, acre by acre, of all his
-neighbours' holdings, to the extent of something like five hundred
-acres. The original owners vanished; the stout and young departed,
-and were seen no more; the old and decrepit were received
-and kindly housed in the workhouse. Of course it could not have
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span>
-been part of Mr. Lobbit's bargain to find them board and lodging
-for the rest of their days at the parish expense. A few are said to
-have drunk themselves to death; but this is improbable, for the
-cider in that part of the country is extremely sour, so that it is
-more likely they died of colic.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There was, however, in the very centre of the cluster of freeholds
-which the parochial dignitary had so successfully acquired,
-a small barren plot of five acres with a right of road through the
-rest of the property. The possessor of this was a sturdy fellow,
-John Bodger by name, who was neither to be coaxed nor bullied
-into parting with his patrimony.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Bodger was an only son, a smart little fellow, a capital
-thatcher, a good hand at cobhouse building—in fact a handy man.
-Unfortunately, he was as fond of pleasure as his betters. He sang
-a comic song till peoples' eyes ran over, and they rolled on their
-seats: he handled a singlestick very tidily; and, among the light
-weights, was not to be despised as a wrestler. He always knew
-where a hare was to be found; and, when the fox-hounds were out,
-to hear his view-halloo did your heart good. These tastes were
-expensive; so that when he came into his little property, although
-he worked with tolerable industry, and earned good wages for that
-part of the country, he never had a shilling to the fore, as the Irish
-say. If he had been a prudent man, he might have laid by something
-very snug, and defied Mr. Lobbit to the end of his days.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It would take too long to tell all Joseph Lobbit's ingenious devices—after
-plain, plump offers—to buy Bodger's acres had been
-refused. John Bodger declined a loan to buy a cart and horse;
-he refused to take credit or a new hat, umbrella, and waistcoat,
-after losing his money at Bidecot Fair. He went on steadily
-slaving at his bit of land, doing all the best thatching and building
-jobs in the neighbourhood, spending his money, and enjoying
-himself without getting into any scrapes; until Mr. Joseph Lobbit,
-completely foiled, began to look on John Bodger as a personal
-enemy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Just when John and his neighbours were rejoicing over the defeat
-of the last attempt of the jolly parochial, an accident occurred
-which upset all John's prudent calculations. He fell in love.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>
-He might have married Dorothy Paulson, the blacksmith's daughter—an
-only child, with better than two hundred pounds in the
-bank, and a good business—a virtuous, good girl, too, except that
-she was as thin as a hurdle, with a skin like a nutmeg-grater, and
-rather a bad temper. But instead of that, to the surprise of every
-one, he went and married Carry Hutchins, the daughter of Widow
-Hutchins, one of the little freeholders bought out by Mr. Lobbit,
-who died, poor old soul, the day after she was carried into the
-workhouse, leaving Carry and her brother Tom destitute—that is
-to say, destitute of goods, money, or credit, but not of common
-sense, good health, good looks, and power of earning wages.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Carry was nearly a head taller than John, with a face like a
-ripe pear. He had to buy her wedding gown, and every thing
-else. He bought them at Lobbit's shop. Tom Hutchins—he was
-fifteen years old—a tall, spry lad, accepted five shillings from his
-brother-in-law, hung a small bundle on his bird's-nesting stick,
-and set off to walk to Bristol, to be a sailor. He was never heard
-of any more at Duxmoor.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"At first all went well. John left off going to wakes and fairs,
-except on business; stuck to his trades; brought his garden into
-good order, and worked early and late, when he could spare time,
-at his two fields, while his wife helped him famously. If they had
-had a few pounds in hand, they would have had 'land and beeves.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But the first year twins came—a boy and girl; and the next
-another girl, and then twins again, and so on. Before Mrs. Bodger
-was thirty she had nine hearty, healthy children, with a fair
-prospect of plenty more; while John was a broken man, soured,
-discontented, hopeless. No longer did he stride forth eagerly to
-his work, after kissing mother and babies; no longer did he hurry
-home to put a finishing-stroke to the potato-patch, or broadcast
-his oat crop; no longer did he sit whistling and telling stories of
-bygone feats at the fireside, while mending some wooden implement
-of his own, or making one for a neighbour. Languid and
-moody, he lounged to his task with round shoulders and slouching
-gait; spoke seldom—when he did, seldom kindly. His children,
-except the youngest, feared him, and his wife scarcely opened her
-lips, except to answer.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"A long, hard, severe winter, and a round of typhus fever,
-which carried off two children, finished him. John Bodger was
-beaten, and obliged to sell his bit of land. He had borrowed
-money on it from the lawyer; while laid up with fever he had
-silently allowed his wife to run up a bill at 'The Shop.' When
-strong enough for work there was no work to be had. Lobbit saw
-his opportunity, and took it. John Bodger wanted to buy a cow,
-he wanted seed, he wanted to pay the doctor, and to give his boys
-clothes to enable them to go to service. He sold his land for what
-he thought would do all this and leave a few pounds in hand.
-He attended to sign the deed and receive money; when instead of
-the balance of twenty-five pounds he had expected, he received
-one pound ten shillings, and a long lawyer's bill <i>receipted</i>.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"He did not say much; for poor countrymen don't know how to
-talk to lawyers, but he went toward home like a drunken man;
-and, not hearing the clatter of a horse behind him that had run
-away, was knocked down, run over, and picked up with his collar-bone
-and two ribs broken.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The next day he was delirious; in the course of a fortnight he
-came to his senses, lying on a workhouse bed. Before he could
-rise from the workhouse bed, not a stick or stone had been left to
-tell where the cottage of his fathers had stood for more than two
-hundred years, and Mr. Joseph Lobbit had obtained, in auctioneering
-phrase, a magnificent estate of five hundred acres within a
-ring fence.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John Bodger stood up at length a ruined, desperate, dangerous
-man, pale, and weak, and even humble. He said nothing; the
-fever seemed to have tamed every limb—every feature—except
-his eyes, which glittered like an adder's when Mr. Lobbit came to
-talk to him. Lobbit saw it and trembled in his inmost heart, yet
-was ashamed of being afraid of a <i>pauper</i>!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"About this time Swing fires made their appearance in the
-country, and the principal insurance companies refused to insure
-farming stock, to the consternation of Mr. Lobbit; for he had
-lately begun to suspect that among Mr. Swing's friends he was
-not very popular, yet he had some thousand pounds of corn-stacks
-in his own yards and those of his customers.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"John Bodger, almost convalescent, was anxious to leave the
-poorhouse, while the master, the doctor, and every official, seemed
-in a league to keep him there and make him comfortable, although
-a short time previously the feeling had been quite different. But
-the old rector of Duxmoor having died at the early age of sixty-six,
-in spite of his care for his health, had been succeeded by a
-man who was not content to leave his duties to deputies; all the
-parish affairs underwent a keen criticism, and John and his large
-family came under investigation. His story came out. The new
-rector pitied and tried to comfort him; but his soothing words
-fell on deaf ears. The only answer he could get from John was,
-'A hard life while it lasts, sir, and a pauper's grave, a pauper
-widow, pauper children; Parson, while this is all you can offer
-John Bodger, preaching to him is of no use.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"With the wife the clergyman was more successful. Hope and
-belief are planted more easily in the hearts of women than of men,
-for adversity softens the one and hardens the other. The rector
-was not content with exhorting the poor; he applied to the rich
-Joseph Lobbit on behalf of John Bodger's family, and as the rector
-was not only a truly Christian priest, but a gentleman of good
-family and fortune, the parochial ruler was obliged to hear and
-to heed.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Bland and smooth, almost pathetic, was Joseph Lobbit: he
-was 'heartily sorry for the poor man and his large family; should
-be happy to offer him and his wife permanent employment on
-his Hill farm, as well as two of the boys and one of the girls.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The eldest son and daughter, the first twins, had been for some
-time in respectable service. John would have nothing to do with
-Mr. Lobbit.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"While this discussion was pending, the news of a ship at
-Plymouth waiting for emigrants, reached Duxmoor.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The parson and the great shopkeeper were observed in a long
-warm conference in the rectory garden, which ended in their
-shaking hands, and the rector proceeding with rapid strides to the
-poorhouse.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The same day the lately established girls' school was set to
-work sowing garments of all sizes, as well as the females of the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>
-rector's family. A week afterward there was a stir in the village;
-a wagon moved slowly away, laden with a father, mother,
-and large family, and a couple of pauper orphan girls. Yes, it
-was true; John and Carry Bodger were going to 'furrin parts,'
-'to be made slaves on.' The women cried, and so did the children
-from imitation. The men stared. As the emigrants passed the
-Red Lion there was an attempt at a cheer from two tinkers; but
-it was a failure; no one joined in. So staring and staring, the
-men stood until the wagon crept round the turn of the lane and
-over the bridge, out of sight; then bidding the 'wives' go home
-and be hanged to 'em, their lords, that had twopence, went in to
-spend it at the Red Lion, and those who had not, went in to see
-the others drink, and talk over John Bodger's 'bouldness,' and
-abuse Muster Lobbit quietly, so that no one in top-boots should
-hear them;—for they were poor ignorant people in Duxmoor—they
-had no one to teach them, or to care for them, and after the
-fever, and a long hard winter, they cared little for their own flesh
-and blood, still less for their neighbours. So John Bodger was
-forgotten almost before he was out of sight.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"By the road-wagon which the Bodgers joined when they
-reached the highway, it was a three days' journey to Plymouth.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But, although they were gone, Mr. Lobbit did not feel quite
-satisfied; he felt afraid lest John should return and do him some
-secret mischief. He wished to see him on board ship, and fairly
-under sail. Besides his negotiation with Emigration Brokers had
-opened up ideas of a new way of getting rid, not only of dangerous
-fellows like John Bodger, but of all kinds of useless paupers.
-These ideas he afterward matured, and although important
-changes have taken place in our emigrating system, even in 1851,
-a visit to government ships, will present many specimens of parish
-inmates converted, by dexterous diplomacy, into independent
-labourers.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Thus it was, that contrary to all precedent, Mr. Lobbit left
-his shopman to settle the difficult case of credit with his Christmas
-customers, and with best horse made his way to Plymouth; and
-now for the first time in his life floated on salt water.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"With many grunts and groans he climbed the ship's side; not
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>
-being as great a man at Plymouth as at Duxmoor, no chair was
-lowered to receive his portly person. The mere fact of having to
-climb up a rope-ladder from a rocking boat on a breezy, freezing
-day, was not calculated to give comfort or confident feelings to an
-elderly gentleman. With some difficulty, not without broken
-shins, amid the sarcastic remarks of groups of wild Irishmen, and
-the squeaks of barefooted children—who not knowing his awful
-parochial character, tumbled about Mr. Lobbit's legs in a most
-impertinently familiar manner—he made his way to the captain's
-cabin, and there transacted some mysterious business with the
-Emigration Agent over a prime piece of mess beef and a glass of
-Madeira. The Madeira warmed Mr. Lobbit. The captain assured
-him positively that the ship would sail with the evening tide.
-That assurance removed a heavy load from his breast: he felt like
-a man who had been performing a good action, and also cheated
-himself into believing that he had been spending <i>his own</i> money
-in charity; so, at the end of the second bottle, he willingly chimed
-in with the broker's proposal to go down below and see how the
-emigrants were stowed, and have a last look at his 'lot.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Down the steep ladder they stumbled into the misery of a
-'bounty' ship. A long, dark gallery, on each side of which were
-ranged the berths; narrow shelves open to every prying eye;
-where, for four months, the inmates were to be packed like herrings
-in a barrel, without room to move, almost without air to
-breathe; the mess table, running far aft the whole distance between
-the masts, left little room for passing, and that little was
-encumbered with all manner of boxes, packages, and infants,
-crawling about like rabbits in a warren.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The groups of emigrants were characteristically employed.
-The Irish 'coshering,' or gossiping; for, having little or no baggage
-to look after, they had little care; but lean and ragged,
-monopolized almost all the good-humour of the ship. Acute cockneys,
-a race fit for every change, hammering, whistling, screwing
-and making all snug in their berths; tidy mothers, turning with
-despair from alternate and equally vain attempts to collect their
-numerous children out of danger, and to pack the necessaries of
-a room into the space of a small cupboard, wept and worked away.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>
-Here, a ruined tradesman, with his family, sat at the table, dinnerless,
-having rejected the coarse, tough salt meat in disgust:
-there, a half-starved group fed heartily on rations from the same
-cask, luxuriated over the allowance of grog, and the idea of such
-a good meal daily. Songs, groans, oaths: crying, laughing, complaining,
-hammering and fiddling combined to produce a chaos of
-strange sounds; while thrifty wives, with spectacle on nose,
-mended their husband's breeches, and unthrifty ones scolded.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Amid this confusion, under the authoritative guidance of the
-second mate, Mr. Lobbit made his way, inwardly calculating how
-many poachers, pauper refractories, Whiteboys, and Captain
-Rocks, were about to benefit Australia by their talents, until he
-reached a party which had taken up its quarters as far as possible
-from the Irish, in a gloomy corner near the stern. It consisted
-of a sickly, feeble woman, under forty, but worn, wasted, retaining
-marks of former beauty in a pair of large, dark, speaking eyes,
-and a well-carved profile, who was engaged in nursing two
-chubby infants, evidently twins, while two little things, just able
-to walk, hung at her skirts; a pale, thin boy, nine or ten years
-old, was mending a jacket; an elder brother, as brown as a berry,
-fresh from the fields, was playing dolefully on a hemlock flute.
-The father, a little, round-shouldered man, was engaged in cutting
-wooden buttons from a piece of hard wood with his pocket-knife;
-when he caught sight of Mr. Lobbit he hastily pulled off
-his coat, threw it into his berth, and, turning his back, worked
-away vigorously at the stubborn bit of oak he was carving.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Hallo, John Bodger, so here you are at last,' cried Mr. Lobbit;
-'I've broken my shins, almost broken my neck, and spoilt
-my coat with tar and pitch, in finding you out. Well, you're
-quite at home, I see: twins all well?—both pair of them? How
-do you find yourself, Missis?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The pale woman sighed, and cuddled her babies—the little
-man said nothing, but sneered, and made the chips fly faster.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You're on your way now to a country where twins are no object;
-your passage is paid, and you've only got now to pray for
-the good gentlemen that have given you a chance of earning an
-honest living.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"No answer.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'I see them all here except Mary, the young lady of the
-family. Pray, has she taken rue, and determined to stay in
-England, after all; I expected as much'——</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"As he spoke, a young girl, in the neat dress of a parlour servant,
-came out of the shade.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Oh! you are there, are you, Miss Mary? So you have made
-up your mind to leave your place and Old England, to try your
-luck in Australia; plenty of husbands there: ha, ha!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The girl blushed, and sat down to sew at some little garments.
-Fresh, rosy, neat, she was as great a contrast to her brother, the
-brown, ragged ploughboy, as he was to the rest of the family,
-with their flabby, bleached complexions.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"There was a pause. The mate, having done his duty by finding
-the parochial dignitary's <i>protegés</i>, had slipped away to more
-important business; a chorus of sailors 'yo heave ho-ing' at a
-chain cable had ceased, and for a few moments, by common consent,
-silence seemed to have taken possession of the long, dark
-gallery of the hold.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Lobbit was rather put out by the silence, and no answers;
-he did not feel so confident as when crowing on his own dunghill,
-in Duxmoor; he had a vague idea that some one might steal behind
-him in the dark, knock his hat over his eyes, and pay off old
-scores with a hearty kick: but parochial dignity prevailed, and,
-clearing his throat with a 'hem,' he began again—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'John Bodger, where's your coat?—what are you shivering
-there for, in your sleeves?—what have you done with the excellent
-coat generously presented to you by the parish—a coat that
-cost, as per contract, fourteen shillings and fourpence—you have
-not dared to sell it, I hope?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well, Master Lobbit, and if I did, the coat was my own, I
-suppose?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What, sir?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The little man quailed; he had tried to pluck up his spirit,
-but the blood did not flow fast enough. He went to his berth and
-brought out the coat.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It was certainly a curious colour, a sort of yellow brown, the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span>
-cloth shrunk and cockled up, and the metal buttons turned a
-dingy black.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Lobbit raved; 'a new coat entirely spoiled, what had he
-done to it?' and as he raved he warmed, and felt himself at home
-again, deputy acting chairman of the Duxmoor Vestry. But the
-little man, instead of being frightened, grew red, lost his humble
-mien, stood up, and at length, when his tormentor paused for
-breath, looked him full in the face, and cried, 'Hang your coat!—hang
-you!—hang all the parochials of Duxmoor! What have
-I done with your coat? Why, I've dyed it; I've dipped it in a
-tan-yard; I was not going to carry your livery with me. I mean
-to have the buttons off before I'm an hour older. Gratitude you
-talk of;—thanks you want, you old hypocrite, for sending me
-away. I'll tell you what sent me,—it was that poor wench and
-her twins, and a letter from the office, saying they would not insure
-your ricks, while lucifer matches are so cheap. Ay, you may
-stare—you wonder who told me that; but I can tell you more.
-Who is it writes so like his father the bank can't tell the difference?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Lobbit turned pale.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Be off!' said the little man; 'plague us no more. You have
-eaten me up with your usury; you've got my cottage and my bit
-of land; you've made paupers of us all, except that dear lass,
-and the one lad, and you'd wellnigh made a convict of me. But
-never mind. This will be a cold, drear Christmas to us, and a
-merry, fat one to you; but, perhaps, the Christmas may come
-when Master Joseph Lobbit would be glad to change places with
-poor, ruined John Bodger. I am going where I am told that sons
-and daughters like mine are better than "silver, yea, than fine
-gold." I leave you rich on the poor man's inheritance, and poor
-man's flesh and blood. You have a son and daughter that will
-revenge me. "Cursed are they that remove landmarks, and devour
-the substance of the poor!"'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"While this, one of the longest speeches that John Bodger was
-ever known to make, was being delivered, a little crowd had collected,
-who, without exactly understanding the merits of the
-case, had no hesitation in taking side with their fellow-passenger,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span>
-the poor man with the large family. The Irish began to inquire
-if the stout gentleman was a tithe-proctor or a driver? Murmurs
-of a suspicious character arose, in the midst of which, in a very
-hasty, undignified manner, Mr. Lobbit backed out, climbed up to
-the deck with extraordinary agility, and, without waiting to make
-any complaints to the officers of the ship, slipped down the side
-into a boat, and never felt himself safe, until called to his senses
-by an attempt on the part of the boatman to exact four times the
-regular fare.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But a good dinner at the Globe (at parochial expense) and a
-report from the agent that the ship had sailed, restored Mr. Lobbit's
-equanimity; and by the time that, snugly packed in the
-mail, he was rattling along toward home by a moonlight Christmas,
-he began to think himself a martyr to a tender heart, and
-to console himself by calculating the value of the odd corner of
-Bodger's acres, cut up into lots for his labourers' cottages. The
-result—fifty per cent.—proved a balm to his wounded feelings.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I wish I could say that at the same hour John Bodger was
-comforting his wife and little ones; sorry am I to report that he
-left them to weep and complain, while he went forward and
-smoked his pipe, and sang, and drank grog with a jolly party in
-the forecastle—for John's heart was hardened, and he cared little
-for God or man.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"This old, fond love for his wife and children seemed to have
-died away. He left them, through the most part of the voyage,
-to shift for themselves—sitting forward, sullenly smoking, looking
-into vacancy, and wearying the sailors with asking, 'How many
-knots to-day, Jack? When do you think we shall see land?' So
-that the women passengers took a mortal dislike to him; and it
-being gossiped about that when his wife was in the hospital he
-never went to see her for two days, they called him a brute. So
-'Bodger the Brute' he was called until the end of the voyage.
-Then they were all dispersed, and such stories driven out of mind
-by new scenes.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"John was hired to go into the far interior, where it was difficult
-to get free servants at all; so his master put up with the
-dead-weight encumbrance of the babies, in consideration of the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span>
-clever wife and string of likely lads. Thus, in a new country,
-he began life again in a blue jersey and ragged corduroys, but with
-the largest money income he had ever known."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The second scene is a picture of John Bodger's prosperity
-in Australia, where eviction and workhouses are
-forgotten. If Australia had not been open to John as
-a refuge, most probably he would have become a criminal,
-or a worthless vagrant. Here is the second
-scene:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In 1842, my friend Mrs. C. made one of her marches through
-the bush with an army of emigrants. These consisted of parents
-with long families, rough, country-bred single girls, with here
-and there a white-handed, useless young lady—the rejected ones
-of the Sydney hirers. In these marches she had to depend for
-the rations of her ragged regiment on the hospitality of the settlers
-on her route, and was never disappointed, although it often
-happened that a day's journey was commenced without any distinct
-idea of who would furnish the next dinner and breakfast.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"On one of these foraging excursions—starting at day-dawn
-on horseback, followed by her man Friday, an old <i>lag</i>, (prisoner,)
-in a light cart, to carry the provender—she went forth to look for
-the flour, milk, and mullet, for the breakfast of a party whose
-English appetites had been sharpened by travelling at the pace
-of the drays all day, and sleeping in the open air all night.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The welcome smoke of the expected station was found; the
-light cart, with the complements and empty sack despatched;
-when musing, at a foot-pace, perhaps on the future fortune of the
-half-dozen girls hired out the previous day, Mrs. C. came upon a
-small party which had also been encamping on the other side of
-the hills.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It consisted of two gawky lads, in docked smock frocks,
-woolly hats, rosy, sleepy countenances—fresh arrivals, living
-monuments of the care bestowed in developing the intelligence
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span>
-of the agricultural mind in England. They were hard at work
-on broiled mutton. A regular, hard-dried bushman had just
-driven up a pair of blood mares from their night's feed, and a
-white-headed, brisk kind of young old man, the master of the
-party, was sitting by the fire, trying to feed an infant with some
-sort of mess compounded with sugar. A dray, heavily laden,
-with a bullock-team ready harnessed, stood ready to start under
-the charge of a bullock-watchman.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The case was clear to a colonial eye; the white-headed man
-had been down to the port from his bush-farm to sell his stuff,
-and was returning with two blood mares purchased, and two emigrant
-lads hired; but what was the meaning of the baby? We
-see strange things in the bush, but a man-nurse is strange even
-there.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Although they had never met before, the white-headed man
-almost immediately recognised Mrs. C.,—for who did not know
-her, or of her, in the bush?—so was more communicative than
-he otherwise might have been; so he said—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You see, ma'am, my lady, I have only got on my own place
-these three years; having a long family, we found it best to disperse
-about where the best wages was to be got. We began saving
-the first year, and my daughters have married pretty well,
-and my boys got to know the ways of the country. There's three
-of them married, thanks to your ladyship; so we thought we
-could set up for ourselves. And we've done pretty tidy. So, as
-they were all busy at home, I went down for the first time to get
-a couple of mares, and see about hiring some lads out of the ships
-to help us. You see I have picked up two newish ones; I have
-docked their frocks to a useful length, and I think they'll do
-after a bit; they can't read, neither of them—no more could I
-when I first came—but our teacher (she's one my missis had
-from you) will soon fettle them; and I've got a power of things
-on the dray; I wish you could be there at unloading; for it being
-my first visit, I wanted something for all of them. But about
-this babby is a curious job. When I went aboard the ship to
-hire my shepherds, I looked out for some of my own country;
-and while I was asking, I heard of a poor woman whose husband
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span>
-had been drowned in a drunken fit on the voyage, that was lying
-very ill, with a young babby, and not likely to live.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Something made me go to see her; she had no friends on
-board, she knew no one in the colony. She started, like, at my
-voice; one word brought on another, when it came out she was
-the wife of the son of my greatest enemy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'She had been his father's servant, and married the son secretly.
-When it was found out, he had to leave the country;
-thinking that once in Australia, the father would be reconciled,
-and the business that put her husband in danger might be
-settled. For this son was a wild, wicked man, worse than the
-father, but with those looks and ways that take the hearts of poor
-lasses. Well, as we talked, and I questioned her—for she did not
-seem so ill as they had told me—she began to ask me who I was,
-and I did not want to tell; when I hesitated, she guessed, and
-cried out, 'What, John Bodger, is it thee!'—and with that she
-screamed, and screamed, and went off quite light-headed, and
-never came to her senses until she died.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'So, as there was no one to care for the poor little babby, and
-as we had such a lot at home, what with my own children and my
-grandchildren, I thought one more would make no odds, so the
-gentleman let me take it, after I'd seen the mother decently
-buried.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You see this feeding's a very awkward job, ma'am—and
-I've been five days on the road. But I think my missis will be
-pleased as much as with the gown I've brought her.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What,' said Mrs. C., 'are you the John Bodger that came
-over in the 'Cassandra,'—the John B.?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, ma'am.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'John, the Brute?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, ma'am. But I'm altered, sure-<i>ly</i>.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well,' continued John, 'the poor woman was old Joseph
-Lobbit's daughter-in-law. Her husband had been forging, or
-something, and would have been lagged if he'd staid in England.
-I don't know but I might have been as bad if I had not got out
-of the country when I did. But there's something here in always
-getting on; and not such a struggling and striving that softens a
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>
-poor man's heart. And I trust what I've done for this poor
-babby and its mother may excuse my brutish behaviour. I
-could not help thinking when I was burying poor Jenny Lobbit,
-(I mind her well, a nice little lass, about ten years old,) I could
-not help thinking as she lay in a nice, cloth-covered coffin, and a
-beautiful stone cut with her name and age, and a text on her
-grave, how different it is even for poor people to be buried here.
-Oh, ma'am! a man like me, with a long family, can make ahead
-here, and do a bit of good for others worse off. We live while we
-live; when we die we are buried with decency. I remember,
-when my wife's mother died, the parish officers were so cross, and
-the boards of the coffin barely stuck together, and it was terrible
-cold weather, too. My Carry used to cry about it uncommonly
-all the winter. The swells may say what they like about it, but
-I'll be blessed if it be'ent worth all the voyage to die in it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Not many days afterward, Mrs. C. saw John at home, surrounded
-by an army of sons and daughters; a patriarch, and
-yet not sixty years old; the grandchild of his greatest enemy the
-greatest pet of the family.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In my mind's eye there are sometimes two pictures. John
-Bodger in the workhouse, thinking of murder and fire-raising in
-the presence of his prosperous enemy; and John Bodger, in his
-happy bush-home, nursing little Nancy Lobbit.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"At Duxmoor the shop has passed into other hands. The ex-shopkeeper
-has bought and rebuilt the manor-house. He is the
-squire, now, wealthier than ever he dreamed; on one estate a
-mine has been found; a railway has crossed and doubled the
-value of another; but his son is dead; his daughter has left him,
-and lives, he knows not where, a life of shame. Childless and
-friendless, the future is, to him, cheerless and without hope."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Poor-law guardians are characters held in very low
-esteem by the Irish serfs, who are not backward in
-expressing their contempt. The feeling is a natural one,
-as will appear from considering who those guardians
-generally are, and how they perform their duties:
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"At the introduction of the poor-law into Ireland, the workhouses
-were built by means of loans advanced by the Government
-on the security of the rates. Constructed generally in that style
-of architecture called 'Elizabethan,' they were the most imposing
-in the country in elevation and frequency, and, placed usually in
-the wretched suburbs of towns and villages, formed among the
-crumbling and moss-grown cottages, a pleasing contrast in the
-eye of the tourist. They were calculated to accommodate from
-five hundred to two thousand inmates, according to the area and
-population of the annexed district; but some of them remained
-for years altogether closed, or, if open, nearly unoccupied, owing
-to the ingenious shifts of the 'Guardians,' under the advice of the
-'Solicitor of the Board,' Their object was to economize the resources
-of the Union, to keep the rates down, and in some instances
-they evaded the making of any rate for years after the
-support of the destitute was made nominally imperative by the
-law of the land.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"As there was a good deal of patronage in a small way placed
-at the disposal of the 'Guardians,' great anxiety was manifested
-by those eligible to the office. Most justices of the peace were,
-indeed, <i>ipso facto</i>, Guardians, but a considerable number had to
-be elected by the rate-payers, and an active canvass preceded
-every election. A great deal of activity and conviviality, if not
-gayety, was the result, and more apparently important affairs were
-neglected by many a farmer, shopkeeper, and professional man,
-to insure his being elected a 'Guardian,' while the unsuccessful
-took pains to prove their indifference, or to vent their ill-humour
-in various ways, sometimes causing less innocuous effects than
-the following sally:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"At a certain court of quarter sessions, during the dog-day heat
-of one of these contests, a burly fellow was arraigned before
-'their worships' and the jury, charged with some petty theft;
-and as he perceived that the proofs were incontestably clear
-against him, he fell into a very violent trepidation. An attorney
-of the court, not overburdened with business, and fond of occupying
-his idle time in playing off practical jokes, perceiving how
-the case stood, addressed the prisoner in a whisper over the side
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span>
-of the dock, with a very ominous and commiserating shake of his
-head:</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Ah, you unfortunate man, ye'll be found guilty; and as sure
-as ye are, ye'll get worse than hangin' or thransportation. As
-sure as ever the barristher takes a pinch of snuff, that's his intention;
-ye'll see him put on the black cap immaydiately. Plaid
-guilty at once, and I'll tell ye what ye'll say to him afther.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The acute practitioner knew his man; the poor half-witted
-culprit fell into the snare; and after a short and serious whispering
-between them, which was unobserved in the bustle of the
-court-house usual on such occasions, the prisoner cried out, just
-as the issue-paper was going up to the jury, 'Me lord, me lord, I
-plaid guilty; I beg your wortchip's an' their honours' pardon.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Very well,' said the assistant barrister, whose duty it was
-to advise upon the law of each case, and preside at the bench in
-judicial costume; 'very well, sir. Crier, call silence.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Several voices immediately called energetically for silence,
-impressing the culprit with grave ideas at once of his worship's
-great importance, and the serious nature of the coming sentence.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Withdraw the plea of not guilty, and take one of guilty to
-the felony,' continued the assistant barrister, taking a pinch of
-snuff and turning round to consult his brother magistrates as to
-the term of intended incarceration.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Don't lose yer time, ye omodhaun!' said the attorney, with
-an angry look at the prisoner.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Will I be allowed to spake one word, yer wortchips?' said
-the unfortunate culprit.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'What has he to say?' said the assistant barrister with considerable
-dignity.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Go on, ye fool ye,' urged the attorney.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'My lord, yer wortchips, and gintlemin av the jury,' exclaimed
-the culprit, 'sind me out o' the counthry, or into jail, or breakin'
-stones, or walkin' on the threadmill, or any thing else in the
-coorse o' nature, as yer wortchips playses; but for the love o' the
-Virgin Mary, <i>don't make me a Poor-Law Gargin</i>.'"
-<a name="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a></p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The most recent legislation of the British government
-in regard to Ireland, the enactment of the Poor-law
-and the Encumbered Estates Act, has had but one grand
-tendency—that of diminishing the number of the population,
-which is, indeed, a strange way to improve the
-condition of the nation. The country was not too
-thickly populated; far from it: great tracts of land
-were entirely uninhabited. The exterminating acts
-were, therefore, only measures of renewed tyranny. To
-enslave a people is a crime of sufficient enormity; but
-to drive them from the homes of their ancestors to seek
-a refuge in distant and unknown lands, is such an action
-as only the most monstrous of governments would dare
-to perform.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">We have thus shown that Ireland has long endured,
-and still endures, a cruel system of slavery, for which
-we may seek in vain for a parallel. It matters not
-that the Irish serf may leave his country; while he
-remains he is a slave to a master who will not call him
-property, chiefly because it would create the necessity
-of careful and expensive ownership. If the Irish master
-took his labourer for his slave in the American
-sense, he would be compelled to provide for him, work
-or not work, in sickness and in old age. Thus the
-master reaps the benefits, and escapes the penalties of
-slave-holding. He takes the fruits of the labourer's
-toil without providing for him as the negro slaves of
-America are provided for; nay, very often he refuses
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span>
-the poor wretch a home at any price. In no other
-country does the slaveholder seem so utterly reckless
-in regard to human life as in Ireland. After draining
-all possible profit from his labourer's service he turns
-him forth as a pauper, to get scant food if workhouse
-officials choose to give it, and if not, to starve by the
-wayside. The last great famine was the direct result
-of this accursed system of slavery. It was oppression
-of the worst kind that reduced the mass of the people
-to depend for their subsistence upon the success or
-failure of the potato crop; and the horrors that followed
-the failure of the crop were as much the results
-of misgovernment as the crimes of the French Revolution
-were the consequences of feudal tyranny, too long
-endured. Can England ever accomplish sufficient
-penance for her savage treatment of Ireland?</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Some English writers admit that the degradation of
-the Irish and the wretched condition of the country
-can scarcely be overdrawn, but seek for the causes of
-this state of things in the character of the people.
-But why does the Irishman work, prosper, and achieve
-wealth and position under every other government but
-that of Ireland? This would not hbe the case if there
-was any thing radically wrong in the Irish nature. In
-the following extract from an article in the Edinburgh
-Review, we have a forcible sketch of the condition
-of Ireland, coloured somewhat to suit English
-views:—</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"It is obvious that the insecurity of a community in which the
-bulk of the population form a conspiracy against the law, must
-prevent the importation of capital; must occasion much of what
-is accumulated there to be exported; and must diminish the motives
-and means of accumulation. Who will send his property to
-a place where he cannot rely on its being protected? Who will
-voluntarily establish himself in a country which to-morrow may
-be in a state of disturbance? A state in which, to use the words
-of Chief Justice Bushe, 'houses and barns and granaries are
-levelled, crops are laid waste, pasture-lands are ploughed, plantations
-are torn up, meadows are thrown open to cattle, cattle are
-maimed, tortured, killed; persons are visited by parties of banditti,
-who inflict cruel torture, mutilate their limbs, or beat them
-almost to death. Men who have in any way become obnoxious
-to the insurgents, or opposed their system, or refused to participate
-in their outrages, are deliberately assassinated in the open
-day; and sometimes the unoffending family are indiscriminately
-murdered by burning the habitation.'<a name="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> A state in which even
-those best able to protect themselves, the gentry, are forced to
-build up all their lower windows with stone and mortar; to admit
-light only into one sitting-room, and not into all the windows
-of that room; to fortify every other inlet by bullet-proof barricades;
-to station sentinels around during all the night and the
-greater part of the day, and to keep firearms in all the bedrooms,
-and even on the side-table at breakfast and dinner-time.<a name="FNanchor_97_97"
-id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a>
-Well might Bishop Doyle exclaim, 'I do not blame the absentees;
-I would be an absentee myself if I could.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The state of society which has been described may be considered
-as a proof of the grossest ignorance; for what can be a
-greater proof of ignorance than a systematic opposition to law,
-carried on at the constant risk of liberty and of life, and producing
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>
-where it is most successful, in the rural districts, one level
-of hopeless poverty, and in the towns, weeks of high wages and
-months without employment—a system in which tremendous
-risks and frightful sufferings are the means, and general misery
-is the result? The ignorance, however, which marks the greater
-part of the population in Ireland, is not merely ignorance of the
-moral and political tendency of their conduct—an ignorance in
-which the lower orders of many more advanced communities participate—but
-ignorance of the businesses which are their daily
-occupations. It is ignorance, not as citizens and subjects, but as
-cultivators and labourers. They are ignorant of the proper rotation
-of crops, of the preservation and use of manure—in a word,
-of the means by which the land, for which they are ready to
-sacrifice their neighbours' lives, and to risk their own, is to be
-made productive. Their manufactures, such as they are, are
-rude and imperfect, and the Irish labourer, whether peasant or
-artisan, who emigrates to Great Britain, never possesses skill
-sufficient to raise him above the lowest ranks in his trade.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Indolence—the last of the causes to which we have attributed
-the existing misery of Ireland—is not so much an independent
-source of evil as the result of the combination of all others. The
-Irishman does not belong to the races that are by nature averse
-from toil. In England, Scotland, or America he can work hard.
-He is said, indeed, to require more overlooking than the natives
-of any of these countries, and to be less capable, or, to speak
-more correctly, to be less willing to surmount difficulties by patient
-intellectual exertion; but no danger deters, no disagreeableness
-disgusts, no bodily fatigue discourages him.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But in his own country he is indolent. All who have compared
-the habits of hired artisans or of the agricultural labourers
-in Ireland with those of similar classes in England or Scotland,
-admit the inferiority of industry of the former. The indolence
-of the great mass of the people, the occupiers of land, is obvious
-even to the passing traveller. Even in Ulster, the province in
-which, as we have already remarked, the peculiarities of the
-Irish character are least exhibited, not only are the cabins, and
-even the farm-houses, deformed within and without by accumulations
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span>
-of filth, which the least exertion would remove, but the land
-itself is suffered to waste a great portion of its productive power.
-We have ourselves seen field after field in which the weeds
-covered as much space as the crops. From the time that his
-crops are sowed and planted until they are reaped the peasant
-and his family are cowering over the fire, or smoking, or lounging
-before the door, when an hour or two a day employed in weeding
-their potatoes, oats, or flax, would perhaps increase the produce
-by one-third.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The indolence of the Irish artisan is sufficiently accounted for
-by the combinations which, by prohibiting piece-work, requiring
-all the workmen to be paid by the day and at the same rate, prohibiting
-a good workman from exerting himself, have destroyed
-the motives to industry. 'I consider it,' says Mr. Murray, 'a
-very hard rule among them, that the worst workman that ever
-took a tool in his hand, should be paid the same as the best, but
-that is the rule and regulation of the society; and that there was
-only a certain quantity of work allowed to be done; so that, if
-one workman could turn more work out of his hands, he durst
-not go on with it. There is no such thing as piece-work; and if
-a bad man is not able to get through his work, a good workman
-dare not go further than he does.'<a name="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The indolence of the agricultural labourer arises, perhaps,
-principally from his labour being almost always day-work, and
-in a great measure a mere payment of debt—a mere mode of
-working out his rent. That of the occupier may be attributed to
-a combination of causes. In the first place, a man must be master
-of himself to a degree not common even among the educated
-classes, before he can be trusted to be his own task-master.
-Even among the British manufacturers, confessedly the most industrious
-labourers in Europe, those who work in their own
-houses are comparatively idle and irregular, and yet they work
-under the stimulus of certain and immediate gain. The Irish
-occupier, working for a distant object, dependent in some
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span>
-measure on the seasons, and with no one to control or even to
-advise him, puts off till to-morrow what need not necessarily be
-done to-day—puts off till next year what need not necessarily be
-done this year, and ultimately leaves much totally undone.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Again, there is no damper so effectual as liability to taxation
-proportioned to the means of payment. It is by this instrument
-that the Turkish government has destroyed the industry, the
-wealth, and ultimately the population of what were once the
-most flourishing portions of Asia—perhaps of the world. It is
-thus that the <i>taille</i> ruined the agriculture of the most fertile portions
-of France. Now, the Irish occupier has long been subject
-to this depressive influence, and from various sources. The competition
-for land has raised rents to an amount which can be paid
-only under favourable circumstances. Any accident throws the
-tenant into an arrear, and the arrear is kept a subsisting charge,
-to be enforced if he should appear capable of paying it. If any
-of the signs of prosperity are detected in his crop, his cabin, his
-clothes, or his food, some old demand may be brought up against
-him. Again, in many districts a practice prevails of letting land
-to several tenants, each of whom is responsible for the whole rent.
-It is not merely the consequence, but the intention, that those who
-can afford to pay should pay for those who cannot. Again, it is
-from taxation, regulated by apparent property, that all the revenues
-of the Irish Catholic Church are drawn. The half-yearly
-offerings, the fees on marriages and christenings, and, what
-is more important, the contributions to the priests made on
-those occasions by the friends of the parties, are all assessed by
-public opinion, according to the supposed means of the payer.
-An example of the mode in which this works, occurred a few
-months ago, within our own knowledge. £300 was wanted by a
-loan fund, in a Catholic district in the North of Ireland. In the
-night, one of the farmers, a man apparently poor, came to his landlord,
-the principal proprietor in the neighbourhood, and offered
-to lend the money, if the circumstance could be kept from his
-priest. His motive for concealment was asked, and he answered,
-that, if the priest knew he had £300 at interest, his dues would
-be doubled. Secrecy was promised, and a stocking was brought
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span>
-from its hiding-place in the roof, filled with notes and coin, which
-had been accumulating for years until a secret investment could
-be found. Again, for many years past a similar taxation has existed
-for political purposes. The Catholic rent, the O'Connell
-tribute, and the Repeal rent, like every other tax that is unsanctioned
-by law, must be exacted, to a larger or smaller amount,
-from every <i>cottier</i>, or farmer, as he is supposed to be better or
-worse able to provide for them.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Who can wonder that the cultivator, who is exposed to these
-influences, should want the industry and economy which give
-prosperity to the small farmer in Belgium? What motive has he
-for industry and economy? It may be said that he has the same
-motive in kind, though not in degree, as the inhabitants of a happier
-country; since the new demand to which any increase of his
-means would expose him probably would not exhaust the whole
-of that increase. The same might be said of the subjects of the
-Pasha. There are inequalities of fortune among the cultivators
-of Egypt, just as there were inequalities in that part of France
-which was under the <i>taille</i>. No taxation ever exhausted the whole
-surplus income of all its victims. But when a man cannot calculate
-the extent to which the exaction may go—when all he knows
-is, that the more he appears to have the more will be demanded—when
-he knows that every additional comfort which he is seen to
-enjoy, and every additional productive instrument which he is
-found to possess, may be a pretext for a fresh extortion, he turns
-careless or sulky—he yields to the strong temptation of indolence
-and of immediate excitement and enjoyment—he becomes less
-industrious, and therefore produces less—he becomes less frugal,
-and therefore, if he saves at all, saves a smaller portion of that
-smaller product."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">For the turbulence of the Irish people, the general
-indolence of the labourers and artisans, and the misery
-that exists, the writer of the above sketch has causes
-worthy of the acuteness of Sir James Graham, or some
-other patent political economist of the aristocracy of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span>
-England. We need not comment. We have only made
-the above quotation to show to what a condition Ireland
-has been reduced, according to the admissions of an
-aristocratic organ of England, leaving the reader acquainted
-with the history of English legislation in regard
-to the unhappy island to make the most natural
-inferences.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The ecclesiastical system of Ireland has long been
-denounced as an injury and an insult. As an insult it
-has no parallel in history. Oppression and robbery in
-matters connected with religion have been unhappily
-frequent; but in all other cases the oppressed and
-robbed have been the minority. That one-tenth of the
-population of a great country should appropriate to
-themselves the endowment originally provided for all
-their countrymen; that, without even condescending to
-inquire whether there were or were not a congregation
-of their own persuasion to profit by them, they should
-seize the revenues of every benefice, should divert them
-from their previous application, and should hand them
-over to an incumbent of their own, to be wasted as a
-sinecure if they were not wanted for the performance
-of a duty—this is a treatment of which the contumely
-stings more sharply even than the injustice, enormous
-as that is.<a name="FNanchor_99_99" id="FNanchor_99_99"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The tax of a tithe for the support of a church in
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>
-which they have no faith is a grievance of which Irish
-Catholics, who compose nine-tenths of the population
-of Ireland, complain with the greatest reason. Of
-what benefit to them is a church which they despise?
-The grand reason for the existence of an established
-church fails under such circumstances. The episcopal
-institutions can communicate no religious instruction,
-because the creed which they sustain is treated with
-contempt. But where is the use of argument in regard
-to this point. The Established Church affords many
-luxurious places for the scions of the aristocracy, and
-there lies the chief purpose of its existence. The oppressive
-taxation of Catholics to support a Protestant
-church will cease with the aristocracy.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span></p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">THE MENIAL SLAVES OF GREAT BRITAIN.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> spirit of British institutions is nowhere more
-plainly and offensively manifested than in the treatment
-which domestic servants receive. The haughty
-bearing, the constant display of supreme contempt,
-and the frequency of downright cruelty on the part of
-the master or mistress, and the complete abasement
-and submission of the servant, have been repeatedly
-subjects of observation, and show clearly that the days
-of "lord and thrall" are vividly remembered in Great
-Britain. In Miss Martineau's "Society in America,"
-we find some observations to the point. She says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"However fascinating to Americans may be the luxury, conversational
-freedom, and high intellectual cultivation of English
-society, they cannot fail to be disgusted with the aristocratic insolence
-which is the vice of the whole. The puerile and barbaric
-spirit of contempt is scarcely known in America; the
-English insolence of class to class, of individuals toward each
-other, is not even conceived of, except in the one highly disgraceful
-instance of the treatment of people of colour. Nothing in
-American civilization struck me so forcibly and so pleasurably
-as the invariable respect paid to man, as man. Nothing since
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span>
-my return to England has given me so much pain as the contrast
-there. Perhaps no Englishman can become fully aware, without
-going to America, of the atmosphere of insolence in which he
-dwells; of the taint of contempt which infects all the intercourses
-of his world. He cannot imagine how all he can say that is
-truest and best about the treatment of people of colour in America,
-is neutralized on the spot by its being understood how the
-same contempt is spread over the whole of society here, which is
-there concentrated upon the blacks."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">It has been remarked that those who are most submissive
-as serfs are the most arrogant and tyrannical
-as lords. In Great Britain, from dukes down to workhouse
-officials, the truth of this remark is obvious.
-Each class treats its superior with abject deference,
-and its inferior with overbearing insolence. The corollary
-of our quotation from Miss Martineau is that the
-treatment masters give to their negro slaves in America,
-in their common intercourse, is what masters give to
-their servants in Great Britain. In the free States of
-America a master may command his servant, and if
-obedience is refused he may deduct from his wages or
-give him a discharge, but the laws prevent all violence;
-the man is never forgotten in the servant. Another
-state of affairs is to be found in Great Britain. The
-laws are inadequate in their construction and too costly
-in their administration to protect the poor servant.
-Should he refuse obedience, or irritate his master in
-any way, his punishment is just as likely to be kicks and
-blows as a discharge or a reduction of wages. Englishmen
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span>
-have frequently complained, while doing business
-in the United States, because they were prevented from
-striking refractory persons in their employ. In attempting
-to act out their tyrannical ideas, such employers
-have been severely chastised by their free,
-republican servants.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">What the serf of the feudal baron in the twelfth century
-was, the servant of modern days is, in the eyes of
-the lords and ladies of Great Britain. Between these
-aristocrats and their retainers there exists no fellow-feeling;
-the ties of our common brotherhood are
-snapped asunder, and a wide and startling gap intervenes.
-"Implicit obedience to commands, and a submissive,
-respectful demeanour on the one hand, are
-repaid by orders given in the most imperative tone, to
-perform the most degrading offices, and by a contemptuous,
-haughty demeanour on the other hand. In
-the servant the native dignity of our nature is for the
-time broken and crushed. In the master the worst
-passion of our nature is exhibited in all its hideous deformity.
-The spirit that dictated the expression, 'I
-am the porcelain, you are only the common clay,' is not
-confined to the original speaker, but, with few exceptions,
-is very generally participated in. It is not,
-however, solely by the aristocratic class that the servant
-is treated with such contumely, the fault is largely
-participated in by the middle and working classes.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span>
-The feelings of the English people are essentially aristocratic."<a name="FNanchor_100_100"
-id="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Until recently an order was placed at the entrance
-to Kensington Gardens, which read as follows:—"<i>No
-Dogs or Livery Servants admitted</i>." What more conclusive
-evidence of the degraded condition of menial
-servants in Great Britain could be obtained. A fellow-man,
-of good character—a necessary conclusion from
-his being in a situation—is placed on a level with
-brutes. The livery seems as much the badge of slavery
-in the nineteenth century as the collar of iron was in
-the days of baron and villain. It is a bar to the reception
-of a servant in any genteel society, and thus constantly
-reminds him of his debased condition. He can
-have but little hope of improving that condition, when
-all intercourse with persons of superior fortune or
-attainments is so effectually prevented. A menial he
-is, and menials must his children be, unless they should
-meet with extraordinary fortune. The following letter
-of a footman recently appeared in the "Times" newspaper.
-It is manly, and to the point.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Many articles having appeared in your paper under the term
-'Flunkeyana,' all depreciatory of poor flunkeys, may I be allowed
-to claim a fair and impartial hearing on the other side? I am a
-footman, a liveried flunkey, a pampered menial—terms which
-one Christian employs to another, simply because he is, by the
-Almighty Dispenser of all things, placed, in his wisdom, lower
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span>
-in life than the other. Not yet having seen any defence of
-servants, may I trust to your candour and your generosity to
-insert this humble apology for a set of men constrained by circumstances
-to earn their living by servitude? The present cry
-seems to be to lower their wages. I will state simply a few broad
-facts. I am a footman in a family in which I have lived thirteen
-years. My master deems my services worth 24 guineas a year.
-The question is, is this too much? I will strike the average of
-expenditure. I am very economical, it is considered. I find for
-washing I pay near £6 a year; shoes, £4 10<i>s.</i>; tea and sugar,
-£2 12<i>s.</i>; wearing apparel, say £4 4<i>s.</i>; for books—I am a reader—I
-allow myself £1 7<i>s.</i> You will see this amounts to £18 7<i>s.</i>
-each year. I include nothing for amusement of any kind, but
-say 13<i>s.</i> yearly. I thus account for £19 yearly, leaving £6 for
-savings. One or two other things deserve, I think, a slight notice.
-What is the character required of a mechanic or labourer?
-None. What of a servant? Is he honest, sober, steady, religious,
-cleanly, active, industrious, an early riser? Is he married? Wo
-be to the poor fellow who does not answer yes to this category of
-requests, save the last! The answer is, Your character does not
-suit; you will not do for me. Again: does a servant forget himself
-for once only, and get tipsy?—he is ruined for life. In a
-word, sir, a thorough servant must be sober, steady, honest, and
-single; 'he must never marry, must never be absent from his duties,
-must attend to his master in sickness or in health, must be
-reviled and never reply, must be young, able, good-tempered,
-and willing, and think himself overpaid, if at the year's end he
-has 5<i>s.</i> to put in his pocket. In old age or sickness he may go
-to the workhouse, the only asylum open. In youth he has plenty
-of the best, and can get one service when he leaves another, if
-his character is good; but when youth deserts him, and age and
-sickness creep on, what refuge is there for him? No one will
-have him. He is too old for service, that is his answer. In service
-he is trusted with valuable articles of every description; and
-in what state of life, whether servant or artisan, surely he who is
-placed in situations of trust deserves a trifle more of recompense
-than is sufficient to pay his way and no more."</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">We have mentioned, in other chapters, some instances
-of the cruel treatment of parish children apprenticed
-to trades. We have also evidence that those
-who are hound out as servants are subjected to the most
-brutal tyranny. Occasionally, when the cases become
-so outrageous as to be noised abroad, investigations are
-held; but these instances are few compared with the
-vast number of cases of cruel treatment of which the
-public are permitted to hear nothing.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the latter part of December, 1850, one Mr. Sloane,
-a special pleader, residing in the Middle Temple, was
-guilty of the most frightful cruelty to a servant-girl
-named Jane Wilbred, formerly an inmate of the West
-London Union. The girl, or some of her friends, complained,
-and Mr. Sloane was brought before Alderman
-Humphrey, at Guildhall. During the examination,
-evidence of the most brutal treatment of the poor girl
-was given, and such was the nature of the statements
-made on oath that the fury of the people was aroused.
-Mr. Sloane was committed for trial. When he was
-conveyed to the Compter the mob attacked the cab, and
-seemed determined to apply Lynch law. But the
-wretch was safely deposited in prison, through the exertions
-of the police. He was tried, convicted, and
-sentenced to imprisonment; but whether he served out
-his sentence we are not informed. This was one case
-of punishment for a thousand of impunity.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">So great was the indignation of the people at the developments
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span>
-made upon the trial of Sloane, that some
-measure of alleviation in regard to parish apprentices
-and servants was deemed necessary. The Earl of
-Carlisle, (late Lord Morpeth), brought in a bill in the
-House of Commons, the object of which was to compel
-the parish guardians and the binding magistrates to
-watch over and protect the helpless servants and apprentices.
-The bill was passed by Parliament; but it
-is inoperative and ineffectual. Parish guardians are too
-glad to get the children off their hands to take any
-steps which might retard the desired consummation;
-and the children can easily be prevented from making
-complaints to magistrates by the threats of masters
-and mistresses, and the common fear of consequences.
-In this case, as in all legislation concerning the poor,
-the Parliament of Great Britain has proceeded upon
-the same principle as the physician who applies external
-remedies for diseases which have internal causes. Instead
-of endeavouring to remove the great causes of
-pauperism—the monopolies of the aristocracy—it only
-seeks to render the paupers easier in their condition.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Mayhew, in his "London Labour and the London
-Poor," shows that a large number of the vagrants
-of London and other English cities, are young persons
-who have been servants, and have run away in consequence
-of ill-treatment. Rather than be constantly
-treated as slaves, the boys prefer to be vagabonds and
-the girls prostitutes. They then enjoy a wild kind of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span>
-freedom, which, with all its filth and vice, has some
-share of pleasure, unknown to those who move at the
-beck of a master or mistress, and live in constant dread
-of the rod.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In those countries where society is untainted with
-aristocracy, the servant when performing duties is respected
-as a human being—with a mind to think and a
-heart to feel—one to be reprimanded or discharged
-from service for neglect or positive wrong, but never
-beaten as a soulless beast. In England, the servant,
-to hold a place, must be a most abject, cringing, and
-submissive slave. In some countries, the taint of negro
-blood keeps a man always in the position of an inferior.
-In England, the man of "serf blood," though he be a
-Celt or Saxon, is ever treated as a hind by the man of
-"noble blood;" and the possession of this same "noble
-blood" justifies the most infamous scoundrel in treating
-his domestics, not only with contempt, but positive
-cruelty. Americans have been charged with having an
-undying horror of the negro taint. In England, the
-<i>common</i> blood is just as steadily abhorred by the dominant
-class. The slavery of servants—their hopeless,
-abject, and demoralizing condition—is the result, direct
-and unmistakable, of the existence of the aristocracy.
-When the serfs are completely freed; when the country
-is no longer ruled by a few thousand persons; when a
-long line of ancestry and magnificent escutcheons cease
-to dignify imbeciles and blackguards; in short, when
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span>
-England takes a few steps upon that glorious path
-which the great American republic has hewn for the
-nations of the earth—there will be sure respect for man,
-as man; and the servants may have some hope of improving
-their condition.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span></p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">MENTAL AND MORAL CONDITION OF THE WHITE SLAVES
-IN GREAT BRITAIN.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> moral degradation and mental darkness of the
-labouring classes in Great Britain in the middle of
-the Nineteenth century, are appalling to contemplate.
-Beneath the wing of a government professedly Christian,
-there is sheltered a vast number of people who
-must be characterized as heathen—as fit subjects of
-missionary labours, such as are freely given to the dark
-sons of India and Africa. They know nothing of God
-but his prevailing name; and the Bible's light is hid
-from them as completely as if its pages were inscribed
-with Egyptian hieroglyphics. Their code of morals is
-the creature of their sensual inclinations; their intelligence
-seemingly the superior instinct of the animal.
-Scotland is far beyond other portions of Great Britain
-in the moral and mental cultivation of its people; but
-there is a large class in that country to which the above
-observations may be justly applied.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">According to Kay, more than half the poor in England
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span>
-and Wales cannot read and write, while the majority
-of the remainder know nothing of science, history,
-geography, music, or drawing, and very little of
-the Scripture history. In the great mercantile and
-manufacturing towns, it is true that poor men, if they
-defer their marriage, and have no extraordinary encumbrances,
-may improve their condition; but scarcely
-any facilities are offered for their acquiring the intelligence
-necessary for the control of passion. The schools
-in the towns are wretchedly arranged and managed.
-Many are nothing more than "dame schools," conducted
-often in cellars or garrets, by poor women, who
-know how to read, but who often know nothing else.
-The schools for the peasants are still fewer in number,
-and inefficient in character; and hence the result, that
-the English peasantry are more ignorant and demoralized,
-less capable of helping themselves, and
-more pauperized, than those of any other country in
-Europe, if we except Russia, Turkey, South Italy, and
-some parts of the Austrian Empire. A writer in a
-recent number of "Household Words," makes some
-remarkable statements in regard to the ignorance of
-the English masses:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Wherever we turn, ignorance, not always allied to poverty,
-stares us in the face. If we look in the Gazette, at the list of
-partnerships dissolved, not a month passes but some unhappy
-man, rolling perhaps in wealth, but wallowing in ignorance, is put
-to the <i>experimentum crucis</i> of 'his mark,' The number of petty
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span>
-jurors—in rural districts especially—who can only sign with a
-cross is enormous. It is not unusual to see parish documents of
-great local importance defaced with the same humiliating symbol
-by persons whose office shows them to be not only 'men of mark,'
-but men of substance. We have printed already specimens of
-the partial ignorance which passes under the ken of the post-office
-authorities, and we may venture to assert, that such specimens
-of penmanship and orthography are not to be matched in
-any other country in Europe. A housewife in humble life need
-only turn to the file of her tradesmen's bills to discover hieroglyphics
-which render them so many arithmetical puzzles. In
-short, the practical evidences of the low ebb to which the plainest
-rudiments of education in this country has fallen, are too common
-to bear repetition. We cannot pass through the streets, we
-cannot enter a place of public assembly, or ramble in the fields,
-without the gloomy shadow of Ignorance sweeping over us. The
-rural population is indeed in a worse plight than the other
-classes. We quote—with the attestation of our own experience—the
-following passage from one of a series of articles which have
-recently appeared in a morning newspaper: 'Taking the adult
-class of agricultural labourers, it is almost impossible to exaggerate
-the ignorance in which they live and move and have their
-being. As they work in the fields, the external world has some
-hold upon them through the medium of their senses; but to all
-the higher exercises of intellect they are perfect strangers. You
-cannot address one of them without being at once painfully
-struck with the intellectual darkness which enshrouds him.
-There is in general neither speculation in his eyes nor intelligence
-in his countenance. The whole expression is more that of
-an animal than of a man. He is wanting, too, in the erect and
-independent bearing of a man. When you accost him, if he is
-not insolent—which he seldom is—he is timid and shrinking, his
-whole manner showing that he feels himself at a distance from
-you greater than should separate any two classes of men. He is
-often doubtful when you address, and suspicious when you question
-him; he is seemingly oppressed with the interview while it
-lasts, and obviously relieved when it is over. These are the traits
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span>
-which I can affirm them to possess as a class, after having come
-in contact with many hundreds of farm labourers. They belong
-to a generation for whose intellectual culture little or nothing was
-done. As a class, they have no amusements beyond the indulgence
-of sense. In nine cases out of ten, recreation is associated
-in their minds with nothing higher than sensuality. I have frequently
-asked clergymen and others, if they often find the adult
-peasant reading for his own or others' amusement? The invariable
-answer is, that such a sight is seldom or never witnessed.
-In the first place, <i>the great bulk of them cannot read</i>. In the next,
-a large proportion of those who can, do so with too much difficulty
-to admit of the exercise being an amusement to them.
-Again, few of those who can read with comparative ease, have
-the taste for doing so. It is but justice to them to say that many
-of those who cannot read have bitterly regretted, in my hearing,
-their inability to do so. I shall never forget the tone in which an
-old woman in Cornwall intimated to me what a comfort it would
-now be to her could she only read her Bible in her lonely
-hours.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">From statistics given by Kay, it is apparent that the
-proportional amount of crime to population, calculated
-in two years, 1841 and 1847, was greater in almost all
-the agricultural counties of England than it was in the
-mining and manufacturing districts. The peasants of
-England must be subjected to a singularly demoralizing
-system to produce so terrible a result. The extreme
-poverty of the agricultural labourers is the great stimulant
-to crime of all kinds; but the darkness of ignorance
-is also a powerful agent. Poverty renders the peasants
-desperate, and they are too ignorant to see the consequences
-of crime.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In a former part of this work, it was mentioned that
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span>
-the miserable cottages in which the peasants are compelled
-to reside have considerable influence in demoralizing
-them. This deserves to be fully illustrated.
-The majority of the cottages have but two small rooms;
-in one of which husband and wife, young men and
-young women, boys and girls, and, very often, a married
-son and his wife all sleep together. Kay says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The accounts we receive from all parts of the country show
-that these miserable cottages are crowded to an extreme, and that
-the crowding is progressively increasing. People of both sexes,
-and of all ages, both married and unmarried—parents, brothers,
-sisters, and strangers—sleep in the same rooms and often in the
-same beds. One gentlemen tells us of six people of different sexes
-and ages, two of whom were man and wife, sleeping in the same
-bed, three with their heads at the top and three with their heads
-at the foot of the bed. Another tells us of adult uncles and nieces
-sleeping in the same room close to each other; another, of the
-uncles and nieces sleeping in the same bed together; another, of
-adult brothers and sisters sleeping in the same room with a
-brother and his wife just married; many tell us of adult brothers
-and sisters sleeping in the same beds; another tells us of rooms
-so filled with beds that there is no space between them, but that
-brothers, sisters, and parents crawl over each other half naked in
-order to get to their respective resting-places; another, of its being
-common for men and women, not being relations, to undress together
-in the same room, without any feeling of its being indelicate;
-another, of cases where women have been delivered in bedrooms
-crowded with men, young women, and children; and others mention
-facts of these crowded bedrooms much too horrible to be
-alluded to. Nor are these solitary instances, but similar reports
-are given by gentlemen writing in <span class="sc">ALL</span> parts of the country."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The young peasants from their earliest years are
-accustomed to sleep in the same bedrooms with people
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span>
-of both sexes; and they lose all sense of the indecency
-of such a life, taking wives before they are twenty years
-of age to sleep in the same room with their parents.
-The policy now pursued by the aristocratic landlords,
-of clearing their estates, tends to crowd the cottages
-which are allowed to remain, and thus the demoralization
-of the peasantry is stimulated. Adultery is the
-very mildest form of the vast amount of crime which it
-is engendering. Magistrates, clergymen, surgeons, and
-parish-officers bear witness that cases of incest are increasing
-in all parts of the country. An eminent
-writer represents the consequences of the state of the
-peasant's cottages in England and Wales in the following
-startling, but unexaggerated terms:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"A man and woman intermarry, and take a cottage. In eight
-cases out of ten it is a cottage with but two rooms. For a time,
-so far as room at least is concerned, this answers their purpose;
-but they take it, not because it is at the time sufficiently spacious
-for them, but because they could not procure a more roomy dwelling,
-even if they desired it. In this they pass with tolerable comfort,
-considering their notions of what comfort is, the first period
-of married life; but, by-and-by they have children, and the family
-increases, until, in the course of a few years, they number, perhaps,
-from eight to ten individuals. But in all this time there
-has been no increase to their household accommodation. As at
-first, so to the very last, there is but the <span class="sc">ONE SLEEPING-ROOM</span>. As
-the family increases, additional beds are crammed into this apartment,
-until at last it is so filled with them, that there is scarcely
-room left to move between them. <i>I have known instances in which
-they had to crawl over each other to get to their beds.</i> So long as
-the children are very young, the only evil connected with this is
-the physical one arising from crowding so many people together
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span>
-into what is generally a dingy, frequently a damp, and invariably
-an ill-ventilated apartment. But years steal on, and the family
-continues thus bedded together. Some of its members may yet
-be in their infancy, but others of both sexes have crossed the line
-of puberty. But there they are, still together in the same room—the
-father and mother, the sons and the daughters—young men,
-young women, and children. Cousins, too, of both sexes, are
-often thrown together into the same room, <i>and not unfrequently into
-the same bed</i>. I have also known of cases in which uncles slept
-in the same room with their grown-up nieces, and newly-married
-couples occupied the same chamber with those long married, and
-with others marriageable but unmarried. A case also came to
-my notice, already alluded to in connection with another branch
-of the subject, in which two sisters, who were married on the
-same day, occupied adjoining rooms in the same hut, with nothing
-but a thin board partition, which did not reach the ceiling, between
-the two rooms, and a door in the partition which only
-partly filled up the doorway. For years back, in these same two
-rooms, have slept twelve people of both sexes and all ages.
-Sometimes, when there is but one room, a praiseworthy effort is
-made for the conservation of decency. But the hanging up of a
-piece of tattered cloth between the beds, which is generally all
-that is done in this respect, and even that but seldom, is but a
-poor set-off to the fact, that a family, which, in common decency,
-should, as regards sleeping accommodations, be separated at least
-into three divisions, occupy, night after night, but one and the
-same chamber. This is a frightful position for them to be in
-when an infectious or epidemic disease enters their abode. But
-this, important though it be, is the least important consideration
-connected with their circumstances. That which is most so, is
-the effect produced by them upon their habits and morals. In
-the illicit intercourse to which such a position frequently gives
-rise, <i>it is not always that the tie of blood is respected</i>. Certain it
-is, that when the relationship is even but one degree removed
-from that of brother and sister, that tie is frequently overlooked.
-And when the circumstances do not lead to such horrible consequences,
-the mind, particularly of the female, is wholly divested
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span>
-of that sense of delicacy and shame, which, so long as they are
-preserved, are the chief safeguards of her chastity. She therefore
-falls an early and an easy prey to the temptations which beset
-her beyond the immediate circle of her family. People in the
-other spheres of life are but little aware of the extent to which
-this precocious demoralization of the female among the lower
-orders in the country has proceeded. But how could it be otherwise?
-The philanthropist may exert himself in their behalf, the
-moralist may inculcate even the worldly advantages of a better
-course of life, and the minister of religion may warn them of the
-eternal penalties which they are incurring; but there is an instructor
-constantly at work, more potent than them all—an instructor
-in mischief, of which they must get rid ere they can
-make any real progress in their laudable efforts—and that is, <i>the
-single bedchamber in the two-roomed cottage</i>."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">But such cottages will continue to be the dwellings
-of the peasantry until the system of lord and serf is
-abolished, until they can obtain ground of their own,
-and have no fear of eviction at a moment's notice. It
-has often been a matter of wonder that there is less discontent
-and murmuring among the miserable peasants
-than among the workmen in the manufacturing towns.
-The reason lies upon the surface. The workmen in the
-factories are generally more intelligent than the agricultural
-labourers, and have a keen feeling of their
-degradation. It requires a certain degree of elevation
-to render a man discontented. The wallowing pig is
-satisfied.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">We need not be surprised to find that where so much
-misery prevails crime is frightfully frequent. The
-"Times" of the 30th of November, 1849, shows the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span>
-terrible increase of crime in the last few years in Dorsetshire.
-The "Times" says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"We yesterday published, in a very short compass, some grave
-particulars of the unfortunate county of Dorset. It is not simply
-the old story of wages inadequate for life, hovels unfit for habitation,
-and misery and sin alternately claiming our pity and our
-disgust. This state of things is so normal, and we really believe
-so immemorial in that notorious county, that we should rather
-deaden than excite the anxiety of the public by a thrice-told tale.
-What compels our attention just now is a sudden, rapid, and, we
-fear, a forced aggravation of these evils, measured by the infallible
-test of crime. Dorsetshire is fast sinking into a slough of wretchedness,
-which threatens the peace and morality of the kingdom at
-large. The total number of convictions, which</p>
-
-<p class="ml5">"In 1846 was 798, and<br />
-"In 1847 was 821, mounted up,<br />
-"In 1848, to 950;</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"and up to the special general session, last Tuesday, (Dec. 1849,)
-for less than eleven months of the present year, to the astonishing
-number of 1193, being at the rate of 1300 for the whole year!
-Unless something is done to stop this flood of crime, or the tide
-happily turns of itself, the county will have more than <i>doubled</i> its
-convictions within four years! Nor is it possible for us to take
-refuge in the thought that the increase is in petty offences. In no
-respect is it a light thing for a poor creature to be sent to jail,
-whatever be the offence. He has broken the laws of his country,
-and forfeited his character. His name and his morals are alike
-tainted with the jail. He is degraded and corrupted. If his
-spirit be not crushed, it is exasperated into perpetual hostility to
-wealth and power.</p>
-
-<hr class="sect" />
-
-<p class="i1">"It is, then, no light affair that a rural county, the abode of an
-ancient and respectable aristocracy, somewhat removed from the
-popular influences of the age, with a population of 175,043 by the
-late census, should produce in four years near 4000 convictions,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span>
-being at the rate of one conviction in that period for every sixty
-persons, or every twelve householders."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">We might express our doubts of the real respectability
-of the ancient aristocracy of Dorsetshire. They
-do not injure society in a way of which the laws take
-notice; but had they nothing to do with the making
-of the 4000 criminals? In 1834, an English writer
-estimated that about 120,000 of the people were always
-in jail. At the present time the number is still
-greater.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The humane and able author of "Letters on Rural
-Districts," published in the "Morning Chronicle" of
-London, thus speaks of the frightful immorality among
-the agricultural population of Norfolk and Suffolk counties:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"One species of immorality, which is peculiarly prevalent in
-Norfolk and Suffolk, is that of bastardy. With the exception of
-Hereford and Cumberland, there are no counties in which the percentage
-of bastardy is so high as it is in Norfolk—being there
-53.1 per cent. above the average of England and Wales; in Suffolk
-it is 27 per cent. above, and in Essex 19.1 per cent. below the
-average. In the two first-named counties, and even in the latter
-one, though not to the same extent, <i>there appears to be a perfect
-want of decency among the people</i>. 'The immorality of the young
-women,' said the rector of one parish to me, 'is literally horrible,
-and I regret to say it is on the increase in a most extraordinary
-degree. When I first came to the town, the mother of a bastard
-child used to be ashamed to show herself. The case is now
-quite altered; no person seems to think any thing at all of it.
-When I first came to the town, there was no such thing as a
-common prostitute in it; now there is an enormous number of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span>
-them. When I am called upon to see a woman confined with an
-illegitimate child, I endeavour to impress upon her the enormity
-of the offence; and there are no cases in which I receive more
-insult from those I visit than from such persons. They generally
-say they'll get on as well, after all that's said about it; and if they
-never do any thing worse than that, they shall get to heaven as
-well as other people.' Another clergyman stated to me, that he
-never recollected an instance of his having married a woman who
-was not either pregnant at the time of her marriage, or had had
-one or more children before her marriage. Again, a third clergyman
-told me, that he went to baptize the illegitimate child of one
-woman, who was thirty-five years of age, and it was absolutely
-impossible for him to convince her that what she had done was
-wrong. 'There appears,' said he, 'to be among the lower orders
-a perfect deadness of all moral feeling upon this subject.' Many
-of the cases of this kind, which have come under my knowledge,
-evince such horrible depravity, that I dare not attempt to lay them
-before the reader. Speaking to the wife of a respectable labourer
-on the subject, who had seven children, one of whom was then
-confined with an illegitimate child, she excused her daughter's
-conduct by saying, 'What was the poor girl to do! The chaps say
-that they won't marry 'em first, and then the girls give way. I
-did the same myself with my husband.' There was one case in
-Cossey, in Norfolk, in which the woman told me, without a blush
-crimsoning her cheek, that her daughter and self had each had
-a child by a sweep, who lodged with them, and who promised
-to marry the daughter. The cottage in which these persons slept
-consisted of but one room, and there were two other lodgers who
-occupied beds in the same room; in one of which 'a young woman
-occasionally slept with the young man she was keeping company
-with.' The other lodger was an old woman of seventy-four
-years of age. To such an extent is prostitution carried on in
-Norwich, that out of the 656 licensed public-houses and beer-shops
-in the city, there are not less than 220, which are known to the
-police as common brothels. And, although the authorities have
-the power of withholding the licenses, nothing is done to put a
-stop to the frightful vice."</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">A want of chastity is universal among the female
-peasants of Wales, arising chiefly from the herding of
-many persons in the small cottages. In the vicinity of
-the mines, the average of inhabitants to a house is said
-to be nearly twelve. The Rev. John Griffith, vicar of
-Aberdare, says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Nothing can be lower, I would say more degrading, than the
-character in which the women stand relative to the men. The
-men and the women, married as well as single, live in the same
-house, <i>and sleep in the same room</i>. The men do not hesitate to
-wash themselves naked before the women; on the other hand, the
-women do not hesitate to change their under garments before the
-men. Promiscuous intercourse is most common, is thought of as
-nothing, and the women do not lose caste by it."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The Welsh are peculiarly exempt from the guilt of
-great crimes. But petty thefts, lying, cozening, every
-species of chicanery and drunkenness are common
-among the agricultural population, and are regarded as
-matters of course.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Infanticide is practised to a terrible extent in England
-and Wales. In most of the large provincial towns,
-"burial clubs" exist. A small sum is paid every year by
-the parent, and this entitles him to receive from £3 to £5
-from the club on the death of the child. Many persons
-enter their children in several clubs; and, as the burial
-of the child does not necessarily cost more than £1, or
-at the most £1 10<i>s.</i>, the parent realizes a considerable
-sum after all the expenses are paid. For the sake of
-this money, it has become common to cause the death
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span>
-of the children, either by starvation, ill-usage, or poison.
-No more horrible symptom of moral degradation could
-be conceived.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Chadwick says,<a name="FNanchor_101_101" id="FNanchor_101_101"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a>
-'officers of these burial societies, relieving
-officers, and others, whose administrative duties put them in
-communication with the lowest classes in these districts, (the
-manufacturing districts,) express their moral conviction of the
-operation of such bounties to produce instances of the visible neglect
-of children of which they are witnesses. They often say—You
-are not treating that child properly, it will not live; <i>is it in
-the club</i>? And the answer corresponds with the impression produced
-by the sight.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Mr. Gardiner, the clerk of the Manchester union, while
-registering the causes of death, deemed the cause assigned by a
-labouring man for the death of a child unsatisfactory, and staying
-to inquire, found that popular rumour assigned the death to wilful
-starvation. The child (according to a statement of the case)
-had been entered in at least <i>ten</i> burial clubs; <i>and its parents had
-had six other children, who only lived from nine to eighteen months
-respectively</i>. They had received from several burial clubs twenty
-pounds for <i>one</i> of these children, and they expected at least as
-much on account of this child. An inquest was held at Mr. Gardiner's
-instance, when several persons, who had known the deceased,
-stated that she was a fine fat child shortly after her birth,
-but that she soon became quite thin, was badly clothed, and
-seemed as if she did not get a sufficiency of food.... The jury,
-having expressed it as their opinion that the evidence of the
-parents was made up for the occasion and entitled to no credit,
-returned the following verdict:—Died through want of nourishment,
-but whether occasioned by a deficiency of food, or by disease
-of the liver and spine brought on by improper food and drink
-or otherwise, does not appear.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Two similar cases came before Mr. Coppock, the clerk and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span>
-superintendent-registrar of the Stockport union, in both of which
-he prosecuted the parties for murder. In one case, where three
-children had been poisoned with arsenic, the father was tried with
-the mother and convicted at Chester, and sentenced to be transported
-for life, but the mother was acquitted. In the other case,
-where the judge summed up for a conviction, the accused, the
-father, was, to the astonishment of every one, acquitted. In this
-case the body was exhumed after interment, and <i>arsenic was
-detected in the stomach</i>. In consequence of the suspicion raised
-upon the death on which the accusation was made in the first
-case, the bodies of two other children were taken up and examined,
-when <i>arsenic was found in their stomachs</i>. In all these cases
-payments on the deaths of the children were insured from the
-burial clubs; the cost of the coffin and burial dues would not be
-more than about one pound, and the allowance from the club is
-three pounds.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'It is remarked on these dreadful cases by the superintendent-registrar,
-<i>that the children who were boys, and therefore likely
-to be useful to the parents, were not poisoned</i>; the female children
-were the victims. It was the clear opinion of the medical officers
-that infanticides have been committed in Stockport to obtain the
-burial money.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Such parents must be placed upon a level with the
-swine that devour their farrow. We are led to doubt
-whether they could sink much lower in the animal
-scale; poverty and ignorance seem to have thoroughly
-quenched the spark of humanity. The author of "Letters
-on Labour, and the Poor in the Rural Districts,"
-writing of the burial clubs in the eastern counties, says:</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The suspicion that a great deal of 'foul play' exists with respect
-to these clubs is supported, not only by a comparison of the
-different rates of mortality, but it is considerably strengthened
-by the facts proved upon the trial of Mary May. The Rev. Mr.
-Wilkins, the vicar of Wickes, who was mainly instrumental in
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span>
-bringing the case before a court of justice, stated to me that, from
-the time of Mary May coming to live in his parish, he was determined
-to keep a very strict watch upon her movements, as he had
-heard that <i>fourteen of her children had previously died suddenly</i>.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"A few weeks after her arrival in his parish, she called upon
-him to request him to bury one of her children. Upon his asking
-her which of the children it was, she told him that it was Eliza,
-a fine healthy-looking child of ten years old. Upon his expressing
-some surprise that she should have died so suddenly, she said,
-'Oh, sir, she went off like a snuff; all my other children did so
-too.' A short time elapsed, and she again waited upon the vicar
-to request him to bury her brother as soon as he could. His suspicions
-were aroused, and he endeavoured to postpone the funeral
-for a few days, in order to enable him to make some inquiries.
-Not succeeding in obtaining any information which would warrant
-further delay in burying the corpse, he most reluctantly
-proceeded in the discharge of his duty.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"About a week after the funeral, Mary May again waited upon
-him to request him to sign a certificate to the effect that her brother
-was in perfect health a fortnight before he died, that being
-the time at which, as it subsequently appeared, she had entered
-him as nominee in the Harwich Burial Club. Upon inquiring as
-to the reason of her desiring this certificate, she told him that,
-unless she got it, she could not get the money for him from the
-club. This at once supplied the vicar with what appeared to be
-a motive for 'foul play' on the part of the woman. He accordingly
-obtained permission to have the body of her brother exhumed;
-doses of arsenic were detected, and the woman was arrested.
-With the evidence given upon the trial the reader is, no
-doubt, perfectly conversant, and it will be unnecessary for me to
-detail it. She was convicted. Previously to her execution she
-refused to make any confession, but said, 'If I were to tell all
-I know, it would give the hangman work for the next twelve
-months.' Undue weight ought not to be attached to the declaration
-of such a woman as Mary May; but, coupled with the disclosures
-that took place upon the trial with respect to some of her
-neighbours and accomplices, and with the extraordinary rate
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span>
-of mortality among the clubs, it certainly does appear that the
-general opinion with respect to the mischievous effects of these
-societies is not altogether without foundation.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Although there are not in Essex, at present, any burial clubs
-in which children are admitted under fourteen years of age as
-members or nominees, still, as illustrating the evils arising from
-these clubs, I may state that many persons who are fully conversant
-with the working of such institutions have stated that they
-have frequently been shocked by hearing women of the lower
-classes, when speaking of a neighbour's child, make use of such
-expressions as, 'Oh, depend upon it, the child'll not live; it's in
-the burial club.' When speaking to the parents of a child who
-may be unwell, it is not unfrequently that they say, 'You should
-do so and so,' or, 'You should not do so and so;' '<i>You should
-not treat it in that way; is it in the burial club</i>?' Instances of the
-most culpable neglect, if not of graver offences, are continually
-occurring in districts where clubs exist in which children are
-admitted. A collector of one of the most extensive burial societies
-gave it as his opinion, founded upon his experience, that it
-had become a constant practice to neglect the children for the
-sake of the allowance from the clubs; and he supported his
-opinion by several cases which had come under his own observation."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">A vast number of other facts, of equally shocking
-character, have been ascertained. The Rev. J. Clay,
-chaplain of the Preston House of Correction, in a
-sanitary report, makes some statements of a nature to
-startle:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"It appears, on the unimpeachable authority of a burial-club
-official, that '<i>hired nurses speculate on the lives of infants committed
-to their care, by entering them in burial clubs</i>;' that 'two young
-women proposed to enter a child into his club, and to pay the
-weekly premium alternately. Upon inquiring as to the relation
-subsisting between the two young women and the child, he learned
-that the infant was placed at nurse with the mother of one of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span>
-these young women,' The wife of a clergymen told me that,
-visiting a poor district just when a child's death had occurred,
-instead of hearing from the neighbours the language of sympathy
-for the bereaved parent, she was shocked by such observations
-as—'Ah! it's a fine thing for the mother, the child's in two clubs!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"As regards one town, I possess some evidence of the amount
-of burial-club membership and of infant mortality, which I beg
-to lay before you. The reports of this town refer to 1846, when
-the population of the town amounted to about 61,000. I do not
-name the town, because, as no actual burial-club murders are
-known to have been committed in it, and as such clubs are not
-more patronized there than in other places, it is, perhaps, not
-fair to hold it up to particular animadversion; indeed, as to its
-general character, this very town need not fear comparison with
-any other. Now this place, with its sixty-one thousand people
-of all classes and ages, maintains at least eleven burial clubs, the
-members of which amount in the aggregate to nearly fifty-two
-thousand; nor are these all. Sick clubs, remember, act as burial
-clubs. Of these there are twelve or fourteen in the town, mustering
-altogether, probably, two thousand members. Here, then,
-we have good data for comparing population with '<i>death lists</i>;'
-but it will be necessary, in making the comparison, to deduct
-from the population all that part of it which has nothing to do
-with these clubs, viz. all infants under two months old, and all
-persons of unsound health, (both of these classes being excluded
-by the club rules;) all those also of the working classes, whose
-sound intelligence and feeling lead them to abhor burial-club
-temptations; and all the better classes, to whom five or twenty
-pounds offer no consolation for the death of a child. On the
-hypothesis that these deductions will amount to one-sixth of the
-entire population, it results that the <i>death lists</i> are more numerous
-by far than the entire mass—old, young, and infants—which support
-them; and, according to the statement of a leading death-list
-officer, <i>three-fourths</i> of the names on these catalogues of the doomed
-are the names of children. Now, if this be the truth—and I believe
-it is—hundreds, if not thousands of children must be entered
-each into <i>four</i>, <i>five</i>, or even <i>twelve</i> clubs, their chances of life
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span>
-diminishing, of course, in proportion to the frequency with which
-they are entered. Lest you should imagine that such excessive
-addiction to burial clubs is only to be found in one place, I
-furnish you with a report for 1846, of a single club, which then
-boasted thirty-four thousand one hundred members, <i>the entire
-population of the town to which it belongs having been, in 1841, little
-more than thirty-six thousand</i>!"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The authorities from whom these statements are
-derived are of the highest respectability; they hear
-witness to a state of affairs scarcely to be conceived by
-people of other civilized countries. Hundreds of thousands
-of human beings seem to be driven into an awful
-abyss of crime and misery by the iron rule of the aristocracy—an
-abyss where mothers forget maternal feelings,
-where marriage vows are scoffed, and where the
-momentary gratification of brutal passions is alone
-esteemed. There, indeed, there is no fear of God, and
-heathenism spreads its upas shade to poison and destroy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The only amusement which the English poor possess
-in many parts of the country, is to visit taverns. In
-the towns the "gin-palaces" and the beer-houses are
-very numerous; and whenever the poor have leisure,
-these places are thronged by drunken men and abandoned
-women. In all the rural districts there is a
-frightful amount of drunkenness. British legislation
-has increased the number of these hot-beds of crime
-and pauperism.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In the beginning of the revolutionary war the duties on malt
-were <i>augmented</i>, and in 1825 the duties on spirits were <i>decreased</i>.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span>
-It was thus that whisky was substituted for ale as the beverage
-of the Scotch, and that gin and brandy began to be generally
-drunk by the English poor.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The consumption of spirits immediately increased in a tremendous
-proportion. From 4,132,263 gallons, the consumption
-in 1825, it rose in one year to 8,888,648 gallons; that is, the consumption
-was <i>in one year</i> more than <i>doubled</i> by the change; and
-from that period, with the exception of the year next following,
-viz. 1827, the consumption has been progressively augmenting.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Since that time the noted beer-shop act has been passed. By
-that act, any one was enabled to obtain a license to enable him
-to sell beer, whether the person desirous of doing so was a person
-of respectable character or not.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But this was the least of the evils which were effected by that
-act. A clause, which was still more injurious, was that which
-prescribed that the liquor <i>must be drunk upon the premises of the
-beer-house</i>, i. e. either in the beer-house or on a bench just outside
-the door.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"This has the effect in many cases, where the poor would
-otherwise take the beer home to their own cottages, of forcing the
-young men who wish to have a little to drink, to sit down and
-take it in the society of the worst people of the neighbourhood,
-who always, as a matter of course, spend their leisure in the
-tavern. I am convinced that nothing can be more injurious in
-its effects upon the poor than this clause. It may be said to
-<i>force</i> the honest labourers into the society and companionship of
-the most depraved, and so necessarily to demoralize the young
-and honest labourer.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The following is the number of gallons of <i>native</i> proof spirits
-on which duty was paid for home consumption in the United
-Kingdom, in the undermentioned years:—</p>
-
-<table class="narrow" id="POPULATION_DECREASE-3" summary="Population Decrease">
- <tr>
- <th>Years</th>
- <th>Gallons.</th>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1843</td>
- <td class="c1">18,841,890</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1844</td>
- <td class="c1">20,608,525</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1845</td>
- <td class="c1">23,122,588</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1846</td>
- <td class="c1">24,106,697</td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"To the above must be added the number of gallons of foreign
-and colonial spirits retained for home consumption, as follows:—</p>
-
-<table class="narrow" id="FOREIGN_SPIRITS" summary="Foreign and Colonial Spirits ">
- <tr>
- <th>Years</th>
- <th style="text-align:center;">No. of Gallons of Foreign, &c. Spirits.</th>
- <th style="text-align:center;">No. of Gallons of Home and Foreign Spirits consumed in the
- United Kingdom.</th>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1843</td>
- <td class="c3">3,161,957</td>
- <td class="c3">22,026,289</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1844</td>
- <td class="c3">3,242,606</td>
- <td class="c3">22,042,905</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1845</td>
- <td class="c3">3,549,889</td>
- <td class="c3">26,672,477</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1">1846</td>
- <td class="c3">4,252,237</td>
- <td class="c3">28,360,934</td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p class="i1">"From the above statistics it appears that the consumption
-of spirits in the United Kingdom is increasing much more rapidly
-than the population!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The number of licenses granted to retailers of spirits or beer
-amounted, in 1845, to 237,345; that is, there was to be found, in
-1845, a retailer of beer or spirits in every 115 of the population!
-Of the beer licenses, 68,086 were for dwellings rated under £20
-per annum, and 35,340 were licenses for premises rated under
-£10 per annum! This shows how large a proportion of the beer-shops
-are situated in the poorest districts, for the use of the
-poorest classes.<a name="FNanchor_102_102" id="FNanchor_102_102"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a></p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">There is a section of London, which in 1847 had
-2000 inhabitants, one butcher's shop, two bakers'
-shops, and seventeen beer-houses. The total cost of
-the spirits and beer consumed in the United Kingdom
-was, in 1848, estimated at £65,000,000, a sum greater,
-by several millions, than the whole revenue of the
-government. The inimitable Dickens has given us a
-vivid sketch of a London gin-palace and its attendants.
-He says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The extensive scale on which these places are established,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span>
-and the ostentatious manner in which the business of even the
-smallest among them is divided into branches, is most amusing.
-A handsome plate of ground glass in one door directs you 'To
-the Counting-house;' another to the 'Bottle Department;' a third
-to the 'Wholesale Department,' a fourth to the 'Wine Promenade;'
-and so forth, until we are in daily expectation of meeting
-with a 'Brandy Bell,' or a 'Whisky Entrance.' Then ingenuity
-is exhausted in devising attractive titles for the different descriptions
-of gin; and the dram-drinking portion of the community,
-as they gaze upon the gigantic black and white announcements,
-which are only to be equalled in size by the figures beneath them,
-are left in a state of pleasing hesitation between 'The Cream of
-the Valley,' 'The Out and Out,' 'The No Mistake,' 'The Good
-for Mixing,' 'The real Knock-me-down,' 'The celebrated Butter
-Gin,' 'The regular Flare-up,' and a dozen other equally inviting
-and wholesome <i>liqueurs</i>. Although places of this description
-are to be met with in every second street, they are invariably
-numerous and splendid in precise proportion to the dirt and
-poverty of the surrounding neighbourhood. The gin-shops in
-and near Drury-lane, Holborn, St. Giles's, Covent-garden, and
-Clare-market, are the handsomest in London. There is more of
-filth and squalid misery near those great thoroughfares than in
-any part of this mighty city.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"We will endeavour to sketch the bar of a large gin-shop, and
-its ordinary customers, for the edification of such of our readers
-as may not have had opportunities of observing such scenes; and
-on the chance of finding one well suited to our purpose we will
-make for Drury-lane, through the narrow streets and dirty courts
-which divide it from Oxford street, and that classical spot adjoining
-the brewery at the bottom of Tottenham-court-road, best
-known to the initiated as the 'Rookery.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The filthy and miserable appearance of this part of London
-can hardly be imagined by those (and there are many such) who
-have not witnessed it. Wretched houses with broken windows
-patched with rags and paper, every room let out to a different
-family, and in many instances to two or even three; fruit and
-'sweet-stuff' manufacturers in the cellars, barbers and red-herring
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span>
-venders in the front parlours, and cobblers in the back; a
-bird-fancier in the first floor, three families on the second, starvation
-in the attics, Irishmen in the passage; a 'musician' in the
-front kitchen, and a charwoman and five hungry children in the
-back one—filth everywhere—a gutter before the houses and a
-drain behind them—clothes drying and slops emptying from the
-windows; girls of fourteen or fifteen with matted hair, walking
-about barefooted, and in white great-coats, almost their only
-covering; boys of all ages, in coats of all sizes and no coats at
-all; men and women, in every variety of scanty and dirty apparel,
-lounging, scolding, drinking, smoking, squabbling, fighting,
-and swearing.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"You turn the corner, what a change! All is light and brilliancy.
-The hum of many voices issues from that splendid gin-shop
-which forms the commencement of the two streets opposite,
-and the gay building with the fantastically ornamented parapet,
-the illuminated clock, the plate-glass windows surrounded by
-stucco rosettes, and its profusion of gas-lights in richly gilt
-burners, is perfectly dazzling when contrasted with the darkness
-and dirt we have just left. The interior is even gayer than the
-exterior. A bar of French polished mahogany, elegantly carved,
-extends the whole width of the place; and there are two side-aisles
-of great casks, painted green and gold, enclosed within a
-light brass rail, and bearing such inscriptions as 'Old Tom, 549;'
-'Young Tom, 360;' 'Samson, 1421.' Beyond the bar is a lofty
-and spacious saloon, full of the same enticing vessels, with a gallery
-running round it, equally well furnished. On the counter,
-in addition to the usual spirit apparatus, are two or three little
-baskets of cakes and biscuits, which are carefully secured at the
-top with wicker-work, to prevent their contents being unlawfully
-abstracted. Behind it are two showily-dressed damsels with
-large necklaces, dispensing the spirits and 'compounds.' They
-are assisted by the ostensible proprietor of the concern, a stout
-coarse fellow in a fur cap, put on very much on one side, to give
-him a knowing air, and display his sandy whiskers to the best
-advantage.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It is growing late, and the throng of men, women, and children,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span>
-who have been constantly going in and out, dwindles down
-to two or three occasional stragglers—cold, wretched-looking
-creatures, in the last stage of emaciation and disease. The knot
-of Irish labourers at the lower end of the place, who have been
-alternately shaking hands with, and threatening the life of, each
-other for the last hour, become furious in their disputes, and finding
-it impossible to silence one man, who is particularly anxious
-to adjust the difference, they resort to the infallible expedient of
-knocking him down and jumping on him afterward. The man
-in the fur cap and the potboy rush out; a scene of riot and confusion
-ensues; half the Irishmen get shut out, and the other half
-get shut in; the potboy is knocked among the tubs in no time;
-the landlord hits everybody, and everybody hits the landlord;
-the barmaids scream; the police come in; and the rest is a confused
-mixture of arms, legs, staves, torn coats, shouting, and
-struggling. Some of the party are borne off to the station-house,
-and the remainder slink home to beat their wives for complaining,
-and kick the children for daring to be hungry."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The neglected and frightfully wretched condition of
-a great part of the juvenile population in the British
-towns has frequently excited the attention of philanthropic
-Englishmen. On the 6th of June, 1848, Lord
-Ashley made a speech on juvenile destitution in the
-House of Commons, in which he drew an awful picture
-of misery and degradation. He showed that in the
-midst of London there is a large and continually increasing
-number of lawless persons, forming a separate
-class, having pursuits, interests, manners, and customs
-of their own. These are quite independent of the
-number of mere pauper children who crowd the streets
-of London, and who never attend a school. The lawless
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span>
-class were estimated by Lord Ashley to number
-thirty thousand.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Of 1600 who were examined, 162 confessed that they had
-been in prison, not merely once, or even twice, but some of them
-several times; 116 had run away from their homes; 170 slept in
-the 'lodging houses;' 253 had lived altogether by beggary; 216
-had neither shoes nor stockings; 280 had no hat or cap, or covering
-for the head; 101 had no linen; 249 had never slept in a
-bed; many had no recollection of ever having been in a bed;
-68 were the children of convicts.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In 1847 it was found that of 4000 examined, 400 confessed
-that they had been in prison, 660 lived by beggary, 178 were the
-children of convicts, and 800 had lost one or both their parents.
-Now, what was the employment of these people? They might
-be classed as street-sweepers; vendors of lucifer matches,
-oranges, cigars, tapes, and ballads; they held horses, ran
-errands, jobbed for 'dealers in marine stores,' that being the
-euphonious term for receivers of stolen goods—an influential race
-in the metropolis, but for whose agency a very large proportion
-of juvenile crime would be extinguished. It might be asked,
-how did the large number who never slept in bed pass the night?
-In all manner of places: under dry arches of bridges and viaducts,
-under porticos, sheds, carts in outhouses, sawpits, or
-staircases, or in the open air, and some in lodging-houses. Curious,
-indeed, was their mode of life. One boy, during the inclement
-period of 1847, passed the greater part of his nights in the
-large iron roller in the Regent's Park. He climbed over the
-railings, and crept to the roller, where he lay in comparative
-security.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Lord Ashley says, 'many of them were living in the dry
-arches of houses not finished, inaccessible except by an aperture,
-only large enough to admit the body of a man. When a lantern
-was thrust in, six or eight, ten or twelve people might be found
-lying together. Of those whom we found thus lodged, we invited
-a great number to come the following day, and there an
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span>
-examination was instituted. The number examined was 33.
-Their ages varied from 12 to 18, and some were younger. 24 had
-no parents, 6 had one, 3 had stepmothers, 20 had no shirts, 9 no
-shoes, 12 had been once in prison, 3 twice, 3 four times, 1 eight
-times, and 1 (only 14 years old) twelve times. The physical condition
-of these children was exceedingly bad; they were a prey to
-vermin, they were troubled with itch, they were begrimed with
-dirt, not a few were suffering from sickness, and two or three
-days afterward several died from disease and the effects of
-starvation. I privately examined eight or ten. I was anxious
-to obtain from them the truth. I examined them separately,
-taking them into a room alone. I said, "I am going to ask you
-a variety of questions, to which I trust you will give me true answers,
-and I will undertake to answer any question you may
-put." They thought that a fair bargain. I put to several of
-them the question, "How often have you slept in a bed during
-the last three years?" One said, perhaps twelve times, another
-three times, another could not remember that he ever had. I
-asked them, how they passed the night in winter. They said,
-"We lie eight or ten together, to keep ourselves warm." I entered
-on the subject of their employments and modes of living.
-They fairly confessed they had no means of subsistence but begging
-and stealing. The only way of earning a penny in a legitimate
-way was by picking up old bones. But they fairly
-acknowledged for themselves and others scattered over the town,
-with whom they professed themselves acquainted, that they had
-not and could not have any other means of subsistence than by
-begging and stealing. A large proportion of these young persons
-were at a most dangerous age for society. What was the
-moral condition of those persons? A large proportion of them
-(it was no fault of theirs) did not recognise the distinctive rights
-of <i>meum</i> and <i>tuum</i>. Property appeared to them to be only the
-aggregate of plunder. They held that every thing which was possessed
-was common stock; that he who got most was the cleverest
-fellow, and that every one had a right to abstract from that stock
-what he could by his own ingenuity. Was it matter of surprise
-that they entertained those notions, which were instilled into
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span>
-their minds from the time they were able to creep on all fours—that
-not only did they disregard all the rights of property, but
-gloried in doing so, unless they thought the avowal would bring
-them within the grasp of the law. To illustrate their low state
-of morality, and to show how utterly shameless they were in
-speaking on these subjects, I would, mention what had passed at
-a ragged school to which fourteen or fifteen boys, having presented
-themselves on a Sunday evening, were admitted as they
-came. They sat down, and the lesson proceeded. The clock
-struck eight. They all rose with the exception of one little boy.
-The master took him by the arm and said, "You must remain;
-the lesson is not over." The reply was, "We must go to business."
-The master inquired what business? "We must all go
-to catch them as they come out of the chapels." It was necessary
-for them, according to the remark of this boy, to go at a
-certain time in pursuit of their calling. They had no remorse
-or shame, in making the avowal, because they believed that there
-were no other means of saving themselves from starvation. I
-recollect a very graphic remark made by one of those children in
-perfect simplicity, but which yet showed the horrors of their position.
-The master had been pointing out to him the terrors of
-punishment in after-life. The remark of the boy was, "That
-may be so, but I don't think it can be any worse than this world
-has been to me." Such was the condition of hundreds and
-thousands.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">A large number of the depraved children live in
-what are called the "lodging-houses." Most Americans
-have heard of the "Old Brewery" at the Five
-Points in New York city, where more than two hundred
-persons of all ages and sexes were crowded
-together. Such lodging-houses as this, (which fortunately
-has been destroyed,) are common in London and
-the provincial towns of Great Britain. Mr. Mayhew,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span>
-in his "London Labour and the London Poor," has
-given us very full information concerning them. He
-obtained much of it from one who had passed some
-time among the dens of infamy. He says of these
-lodging-houses—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'They have generally a spacious, though often ill-ventilated
-kitchen, the dirty, dilapidated walls of which are hung with prints,
-while a shelf or two are generally, though barely, furnished with
-crockery and kitchen utensils. In some places knives and forks
-are not provided, unless a penny is left with the "deputy," or manager,
-till they are returned. A brush of any kind is a stranger,
-and a looking-glass would be a miracle. The average number of
-nightly lodgers is in winter seventy, in the summer (when many
-visit the provinces) from forty to forty-five. The general charge
-is, if two sleep together, 3<i>d.</i> per night, or 4<i>d.</i> for a single bed. In
-either case, it is by no means unusual to find eighteen or twenty
-in one small room, the heat and horrid smell from which are insufferable;
-and, where there are young children, the staircases
-are the lodgment of every kind of filth and abomination. In some
-houses there are rooms for families, where, on a rickety machine,
-which they dignify by the name of a bedstead, may be found the
-man, his wife, and a son or daughter, perhaps eighteen years of age;
-while the younger children, aged from seven to fourteen, sleep on
-the floor. If they have linen, they take it off to escape vermin,
-and rise naked, one by one, or sometimes brother and sister together.
-This is no ideal picture; the subject is too capable of
-being authenticated to need any meaningless or dishonest assistance
-called "allowable exaggeration." The amiable and deservedly
-popular minister of a district church, built among lodging-houses,
-has stated that he has found twenty-nine human beings in one
-apartment; and that having with difficulty knelt down between
-two beds to pray with a dying woman, his legs became so jammed
-that he could hardly get up again.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Out of some fourscore such habitations,' continues my informant,
-'I have only found <i>two</i> which had any sort of garden; and, I am
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span>
-happy to add, that in neither of these two was there a single case
-of cholera. In the others, however, the pestilence raged with terrible
-fury.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">There are other lodging-houses still lower in character
-than those described above, and where there is a
-total absence of cleanliness and decency. A man who
-had slept in these places, gave the following account to
-Mr. Mayhew:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"He had slept in rooms so crammed with sleepers—he believed
-there were thirty where twelve would have been a proper number—that
-their breaths in the dead of night and in the unventilated
-chamber, rose (I use his own words) 'in one foul, choking steam
-of stench.' This was the case most frequently a day or two prior
-to Greenwich Fair or Epsom Races, when the congregation of the
-wandering classes, who are the supporters of the low lodging-houses,
-was the thickest. It was not only that two or even three
-persons jammed themselves into a bed not too large for one full-sized
-man; but between the beds—and their partition one from
-another admitted little more than the passage of a lodger—were
-placed shakedowns, or temporary accommodation for nightly
-slumber. In the better lodging-houses the shakedowns are small
-palliasses or mattrasses; in the worst they are bundles of rags of
-any kind; but loose straw is used only in the country for shakedowns.
-Our informant saw a traveller, who had arrived late, eye
-his shakedown in one of the worst houses with any thing but a
-pleased expression of countenance; and a surly deputy, observing
-this, told the customer he had his choice, 'which,' the deputy added,
-'is not as all men has, or I shouldn't have been waiting here on
-you. But you has your choice, I tell you;—sleep there on that
-shakedown, or turn out and be——; that's fair.' At some of
-the busiest periods, numbers sleep on the kitchen floor, all huddled
-together, men and women, (when indecencies are common enough,)
-and without bedding or any thing but their scanty clothes to soften
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span>
-the hardness of the stone or brick floor. A penny is saved to the
-lodger by this means. More than two hundred have been accommodated
-in this way in a large house. The Irish, in harvest-time,
-very often resort to this mode of passing the night.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I heard from several parties, of the surprise, and even fear or
-horror, with which a decent mechanic—more especially if he were
-accompanied by his wife—regarded one of these foul dens, when
-destitution had driven him there for the first time in his life.
-Sometimes such a man was seen to leave the place abruptly,
-though perhaps he had prepaid his last halfpenny for the refreshment
-of a night's repose. Sometimes he was seized with sickness.
-I heard also from some educated persons who had 'seen
-better days,' of the disgust with themselves and with the world,
-which they felt on first entering such places. 'And I have some
-reason to believe,' said one man, 'that a person, once well off, who
-has sunk into the very depths of poverty, often makes his first appearance
-in one of the worst of those places. Perhaps it is because
-he keeps away from them as long as he can, and then, in a sort of
-desperation fit, goes into the cheapest he can meet with; or if he
-knows it's a vile place, he very likely says to himself—as I did—"I
-may as well know the worst at once."'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Another man, who had moved in good society, said, when
-asked about his resorting to a low lodging-house: 'When a man's
-lost caste in society, he may as well go the whole hog, bristles and
-all, and a low lodging-house is the entire pig.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Notwithstanding many abominations, I am assured that the
-lodgers, in even the worst of these habitations, for the most part,
-sleep soundly. But they have, in all probability, been out in the
-open air the whole of the day, and all of them may go to their
-couches, after having walked, perhaps, many miles, exceedingly
-fatigued, and some of them half drunk. 'Why, in course, sir,'
-said a 'traveller,' whom I spoke to on this subject, 'if you is in a
-country town or village, where there's only one lodging-house,
-perhaps, and that a bad one—an old hand can always suit hisself
-in London—you <i>must</i> get half drunk, or your money for your bed
-is wasted. There's so much rest owing to you, after a hard day;
-and bugs and bad air'll prevent its being paid, if you don't lay in
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span>
-some stock of beer, or liquor of some sort, to sleep on. It's a duty
-you owes yourself; but, if you haven't the browns, why, then, in
-course, you can't pay it.' I have before remarked, and, indeed,
-have given instances, of the odd and sometimes original manner
-in which an intelligent patterer, for example, will express himself.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The information I obtained in the course of this inquiry into
-the condition of low lodging-houses, afforded a most ample corroboration
-of the truth of a remark I have more than once found
-it necessary to make before—that persons of the vagrant class will
-sacrifice almost any thing for warmth, not to say heat. Otherwise,
-to sleep, or even sit, in some of the apartments of these establishments
-would be intolerable.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"From the frequent state of weariness to which I have alluded,
-there is generally less conversation among the frequenters of the
-low lodging-houses than might be expected. Some are busy cooking,
-some (in the better houses) are reading, many are drowsy and
-nodding, and many are smoking. In perhaps a dozen places of
-the worst and filthiest class, indeed, smoking is permitted even in
-the sleeping-rooms; but it is far less common than it was even
-half-a-dozen years back, and becomes still less common yearly.
-Notwithstanding so dangerous a practice, fires are and have been
-very unfrequent in these places. There is always some one awake,
-which is one reason. The lack of conversation, I ought to add,
-and the weariness and drowsiness, are less observable in the lodging-houses
-patronized by thieves and women of abandoned character,
-whose lives are comparatively idle, and whose labour a mere
-nothing. In their houses, if their conversation be at all general,
-it is often of the most unclean character. At other times it is carried
-on in groups, with abundance of whispers, shrugs, and slang,
-by the members of the respective schools of thieves or lurkers."</p>
-
-<hr class="sect" />
-
-<p class="i1">"The licentiousness of the frequenters, and more especially the
-juvenile frequenters, of the low lodging-houses, must be even more
-briefly alluded to. In some of these establishments, men and
-women, boys and girls,—but perhaps in no case, or in very rare
-cases, unless they are themselves consenting parties, herd together
-promiscuously. The information which I have given from a reverend
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span>
-informant indicates the nature of the proceedings, when the
-sexes are herded indiscriminately, and it is impossible to present
-to the reader, in full particularity, the records of the vice
-practised.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Boys have boastfully carried on loud conversations, and from
-distant parts of the room, of their triumphs over the virtue of girls,
-and girls have laughed at and encouraged the recital. Three,
-four, five, six, and even more boys and girls have been packed,
-head and feet, into one small bed; some of them perhaps never
-met before. On such occasions any clothing seems often enough
-to be regarded as merely an encumbrance. Sometimes there are
-loud quarrels and revilings from the jealousy of boys and girls,
-and more especially of girls whose 'chaps' have deserted or been
-inveigled from them. At others, there is an amicable interchange
-of partners, and next day a resumption of their former companionship.
-One girl, then fifteen or sixteen, who had been leading
-this vicious kind of life for nearly three years, and had been repeatedly
-in prison, and twice in hospitals—and who expressed a
-strong desire to 'get out of the life' by emigration—said: 'Whatever
-that's bad and wicked, that any one can fancy could be done
-in such places among boys and girls that's never been taught, or
-won't be taught, better, <i>is</i> done, and night after night.' In these
-haunts of low iniquity, or rather in the room into which the
-children are put, there are seldom persons above twenty. The
-young lodgers in such places live by thieving and pocket-picking,
-or by prostitution. The charge for a night's lodging is generally
-2<i>d.</i>, but smaller children have often been admitted for 1<i>d.</i> If a
-boy or girl resort to one of these dens at night without the means
-of defraying the charge for accommodation, the 'mot of the ken'
-(mistress of the house) will pack them off, telling them plainly
-that it will be no use their returning until they have stolen something
-worth 2<i>d.</i> If a boy or girl do not return in the evening, and
-have not been heard to express their intention of going elsewhere,
-the first conclusion arrived at by their mates is that they have
-'got into trouble,' (prison.)</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The indiscriminate admixture of the sexes among adults, in
-many of these places, is another evil. Even in some houses considered
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span>
-of the better sort, men and women, husbands and wives,
-old and young, strangers and acquaintances, sleep in the same
-apartment, and if they choose, in the same bed. Any remonstrance
-at some act of gross depravity, or impropriety, on the part of a
-woman not so utterly hardened as the others, is met with abuse
-and derision. One man who described these scenes to me, and
-had long witnessed them, said that almost the only women who ever
-hid their faces or manifested dislike of the proceedings they could
-not but notice, (as far as he saw,) were poor Irishwomen, generally
-those who live by begging: 'But for all that,' the man added, 'an
-Irishman or Irishwoman of that sort will sleep anywhere, in any
-mess, to save a halfpenny, though they may have often a few shillings,
-or a good many, hidden about them.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The recent report of Captain Hays, "on the operation
-of the Common Lodging-house Act," presents some
-appalling facts:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Up to the end of February, it was ascertained that 3100 persons,
-mostly Irishmen, in the very heart of the metropolis, lodged
-every night, 84,000 individuals in 3712 rooms. The instances
-enumerated are heart sickening. In a small room in Rosemary
-lane, near the Tower, fourteen adults were sleeping on the floor
-without any partition or regard to decency. In an apartment in
-Church lane, St. Giles, not fifteen feet square, were thirty-seven
-women and children, all huddled together on the floor. There are
-thousands of similar cases. The eastern portion of London, comprising
-Whitechapel, Spitalfields, and Mile-end—an unknown land
-to all of the decent classes—is filled with a swarming population
-of above 300,000 beggars, costermongers, thieves, ragsellers, Jews,
-and the like. A single court is a fair example of this whole district.
-It contains eight houses of two rooms each. Three hundred
-persons—men, women, and children—live there. There is
-only one place of convenience; and one hydrant, which is served
-half an hour each day. The condition of this court may be imagined;
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span>
-it is too filthy to describe. Decayed matter, stagnant
-water, refuse fish, vegetables, broken baskets, dead cats, dogs, and
-rats, are strewed everywhere around. The prices of various kinds
-of provision in these neighbourhoods give a forcible notion of the
-condition of the population. You can purchase for a halfpenny
-fish or meat enough for a dinner.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In this neighbourhood is Rag Fair. It is worth a visit. Thousands
-of persons are assembled in the streets, which are so thickly
-covered with merchandise that it is difficult to step along without
-treading on heaps of gowns, shawls, bonnets, shoes, and articles of
-men's attire. There is no conceivable article of dress that may
-not be purchased here. It is not without danger that one even
-visits the place at noonday. You are in the midst of the refuse of
-all London,—of a whole race, whose chief employment is to commit
-depredations upon property, and whose lives are spent in the
-midst of a squalor, filth, deprivation and degradation, which the
-whole world cannot probably parallel. One of the London missionaries
-says—'Persons who are accustomed to run up heavy
-bills at the shops of fashionable tailors and milliners will scarcely
-believe the sums for which the poor are able to purchase the same
-kind of articles. I have recently clothed a man and woman, both
-decently, for the sum of nine shillings. There is as great a variety
-of articles in pattern, shape, and size, as could be found in any
-draper's shop in London. The mother may go to <i>Rag Fair</i>, with
-the whole of her family, both boys and girls—yes, and her husband,
-too—and for a very few shillings deck them out from top to
-toe. I have no doubt that a man and his wife, and five or six
-children, with £1 would purchase for themselves an entire change.
-This may appear an exaggeration; but I actually overheard a conversation,
-in which two women were trying to bargain for a child's
-frock; the sum asked was 1½<i>d.</i>, and the sum offered was 1<i>d.</i>, and
-they parted on the difference.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The following is a bill delivered by a dealer to one of the missionaries,
-who was requested to supply a suit of clothes for a man
-and woman whom he had persuaded to get married several years
-after the right time:—</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<table class="narrow" id="BILL_FOR_GROOM" summary="Bill for Groom's Clothes">
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- <td class="c2"><i>s.</i></td>
- <td class="c1"><i>d.</i></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A full linen-fronted shirt, very elegant</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">6</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of warm worsted stockings </td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">1</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of light-coloured trousers</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">6</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A black cloth waistcoat</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">3</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of white cotton braces</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">1</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of low shoes</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">1</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A black silk velvet stock</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">1</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A black beaver, fly-fronted, double-breasted paletot
- coat, lined with silk, a very superior article</td>
- <td class="c2">1</td>
- <td class="c1">6</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A cloth cap, bound with a figured band</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">1</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of black cloth gloves</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">1</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;"></td>
- <td colspan="2" class="c2">——</td>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;"></td>
- <td class="c2">3</td>
- <td class="c1">3</td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<p class="i1">"The man had been educated, and could speak no fewer than
-five languages; by profession he was, however, nothing but a dusthill
-raker.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The bill delivered for the bride's costume is as follows:</p>
-
-<table class="narrow" id="BILL_FOR_BRIDES_COSTUME" summary="Bill for Bride's Costume">
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A shift</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">1</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of stays</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">2</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A flannel petticoat</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">4</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A black Orleans ditto</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">4</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of white cotton stockings</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">1</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A very good light-coloured cotton gown</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">10</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of single-soled slippers, with spring
- heels</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">2</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A double-dyed bonnet, including a neat cap</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">2</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of white cotton gloves</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">1</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A lady's green silk paletot, lined with crimson
- silk, trimmed with black</td>
- <td class="c2">0</td>
- <td class="c1">10</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;"></td>
- <td colspan="2" class="c2">——</td>
- <td class="c1"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;"></td>
- <td class="c2">3</td>
- <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">1</td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">Throughout the country there are low lodging-houses,
-which do not differ much in character from those of
-London. In all of them the most disgusting immorality
-is practised to an extent scarcely conceivable by those
-who do not visit such dens of vice and misery.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The story of the Jew Fagan, and his felonious operations,
-in Dickens's Oliver Twist, is a true representation
-of a most extensive business in London. There are a
-large number of notorious receivers of stolen goods.
-Some of them keep a number of boys, who are instructed
-in stealing, and beaten severely when unsuccessful.
-Mayhew mentions one notorious case in George-yard.
-A wooden-legged Welshman, named Hughes, and commonly
-called Taff, was the miscreant. Two little boys
-were his chief agents in stealing, and when they did not
-obtain any thing, he would take the strap off his wooden
-leg, and beat them through the nakedness of their rags.
-He boarded and lodged about a dozen Chelsea and
-Greenwich pensioners. These he followed and watched
-closely until they were paid. Then, after they had settled
-with him, he would make them drunk and rob
-them of the few shillings they had left.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The brutal treatment of servants, which we have
-already touched, drives many of them to the low lodging-houses,
-and to the commission of crime. In the following
-narrative, which a girl communicated to Mr. Mayhew,
-we have an illustration of this assertion, as well as
-some awful disclosures in regard to "life among the
-lowly:"—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'I am an orphan. When I was ten I was sent to service as a
-maid of all-work, in a small tradesman's family. It was a hard
-place, and my mistress used me very cruelly, beating me often.
-When I had been in place three weeks, my mother died; my
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span>
-father having died twelve years before. I stood my mistress's ill-treatment
-about six months. She beat me with sticks as well as
-with her hands. I was black and blue, and at last I ran away.
-I got to Mrs. ——, a low lodging-house. I didn't know before
-that there was such a place. I heard of it from some girls at the
-Glasshouse, (baths and wash-houses,) where I went for shelter. I
-went with them to have a halfpenny worth of coffee, and they took
-me to the lodging-house. I then had three shillings, and stayed
-about a month, and did nothing wrong, living on the three shillings
-and what I pawned my clothes for, as I got some pretty good
-things away with me. In the lodging-house I saw nothing but
-what was bad, and heard nothing but what was bad. I was
-laughed at, and was told to swear. They said, 'Look at her for
-a d—— modest fool'—sometimes worse than that, until by degrees
-I got to be as bad as they were. During this time I used to see
-boys and girls from ten to twelve years old sleeping together, but
-understood nothing wrong. I had never heard of such places
-before I ran away. I can neither read nor write. My mother
-was a good woman, and I wish I'd had her to run away to. I
-saw things between almost children that I can't describe to you—very
-often I saw them, and that shocked me. At the month's
-end, when I was beat out, I met with a young man of fifteen—I
-myself was going on to twelve years old—and he persuaded me
-to take up with him. I stayed with him three months in the
-same lodging-house, living with him as his wife, though we were
-mere children, and being true to him. At the three months' end
-he was taken up for picking pockets, and got six months. I was
-sorry, for he was kind to me; though I was made ill through
-him; so I broke some windows in St. Paul's churchyard to get
-into prison to get cured. I had a month in the Compter, and
-came out well. I was scolded very much in the Compter, on
-account of the state I was in, being so young. I had 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> given
-to me when I came out, and was forced to go into the streets for
-a living. I continued walking the streets for three years, sometimes
-making a good deal of money, sometimes none, feasting one
-day and starving the next. The bigger girls could persuade me
-to do any thing they liked with my money. I was never happy
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span>
-all the time, but I could get no character, and could not get out
-of the life. I lodged all this time at a lodging-house in Kent-street.
-They were all thieves and bad girls. I have known
-between three and four dozen boys and girls sleep in one room.
-The beds were horrid filthy and full of vermin. There was very
-wicked carryings on. The boys, if any difference, was the worst.
-We lay packed, on a full night, a dozen boys and girls squeedged
-into one bed. That was very often the case—some at the foot
-and some at the top—boys and girls all mixed. I can't go into
-all the particulars, but whatever could take place in words or acts
-between boys and girls did take place, and in the midst of the
-others. I am sorry to say I took part in these bad ways myself,
-but I wasn't so bad as some of the others. There was only a
-candle burning all night, but in summer it was light great part
-of the night. Some boys and girls slept without any clothes, and
-would dance about the room that way. I have seen them, and,
-wicked as I was, felt ashamed. I have seen two dozen capering
-about the room that way; some mere children, the boys generally
-the youngest. * * * There were no men or
-women present. There were often fights. The deputy never interfered.
-This is carried on just the same as ever to this day,
-and is the same every night. I have heard young girls shout out
-to one another how often they had been obliged to go to the hospital,
-or the infirmary, or the workhouse. There was a great deal
-of boasting about what the boys and girls had stolen during the
-day. I have known boys and girls change their 'partners,' just
-for a night. At three years' end I stole a piece of beef from a
-butcher. I did it to get into prison. I was sick of the life I was
-leading, and didn't know how to get out of it. I had a month for
-stealing. When I got out I passed two days and a night in the
-streets doing nothing wrong, and then went and threatened to
-break Messrs. ——'s windows again. I did that to get into
-prison again; for when I lay quiet of a night in prison I thought
-things over, and considered what a shocking life I was leading,
-and how my health might be ruined completely, and I thought I
-would stick to prison rather than go back to such a life. I got
-six months for threatening. When I got out I broke a lamp next
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span>
-morning for the same purpose, and had a fortnight. That was
-the last time I was in prison. I have since been leading the same
-life as I told you of for the three years, and lodging at the same
-houses, and seeing the same goings on. I hate such a life now
-more than ever. I am willing to do any work that I can in washing
-and cleaning. I can do a little at my needle. I could do
-hard work, for I have good health. I used to wash and clean in
-prison, and always behaved myself there. At the house where I
-am it is 3<i>d.</i> a night; but at Mrs. ——'s it is 1<i>d.</i> and 2<i>d.</i> a night,
-and just the same goings on. Many a girl—nearly all of them—goes
-out into the streets from this penny and twopenny house, to
-get money for their favourite boys by prostitution. If the girl
-can not get money she must steal something, or will be beaten by
-her 'chap' when she comes home. I have seen them beaten, often
-kicked and beaten until they were blind from bloodshot, and their
-teeth knocked out with kicks from boots as the girl lays on the
-ground. The boys, in their turn, are out thieving all day, and
-the lodging-house keeper will buy any stolen provisions of them,
-and sell them to the lodgers. I never saw the police in the house.
-If a boy comes to the house on a night without money or sawney,
-or something to sell to the lodgers, a handkerchief or something
-of that kind, he is not admitted, but told very plainly, 'Go thieve
-it, then,' Girls are treated just the same. Anybody may call
-in the daytime at this house and have a halfpenny worth of coffee
-and sit any length of time until evening. I have seen three dozen
-sitting there that way, all thieves and bad girls. There are no
-chairs, and only one form in front of the fire, on which a dozen
-can sit. The others sit on the floor all about the room, as near
-the fire as they can. Bad language goes on during the day, as I
-told you it did during the night, and indecencies too, but nothing
-like so bad as at night. They talk about where there is good
-places to go and thieve. The missioners call sometimes, but
-they're laughed at often when they're talking, and always before
-the door's closed on them. If a decent girl goes there to get a
-ha'porth of coffee, seeing the board over the door, she is always
-shocked. Many a poor girl has been ruined in this house since I
-was, and boys have boasted about it. I never knew boy or girl do
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span>
-good, once get used there. Get used there, indeed, and you are
-life-ruined. I was an only child, and haven't a friend in the
-world. I have heard several girls say how they would like to
-get out of the life, and out of the place. From those I know, I
-think that cruel parents and mistresses cause many to be driven
-there. One lodging-house keeper, Mrs. ——, goes out dressed respectable,
-and pawns any stolen property, or sells it at public-houses.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"As a corroboration of the girl's statement, a wretched-looking
-boy, only thirteen years of age, gave me the following additional
-information. He had a few rags hanging about him, and no shirt—indeed,
-he was hardly covered enough for purposes of decency,
-his skin being exposed through the rents in his jacket and trousers.
-He had a stepfather, who treated him very cruelly. The
-stepfather and the child's mother went 'across the country,' begging
-and stealing. Before the mother died, an elder brother ran
-away on account of being beaten.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Sometimes,' I give his own words, 'he (the stepfather)
-wouldn't give us a bit to eat, telling us to go and thieve for it.
-My brother had been a month gone (he's now a soldier in Gibraltar)
-when I ran away to join him. I knew where to find him,
-as we met sometimes. We lived by thieving, and I do still—by
-pulling flesh, (stealing meat.) I got to lodge at Mrs. ——, and have
-been there this eight months. I can read and write a little.' This
-boy then confirmed what the young girl had told me of the grossest
-acts night by night among the boys and girls, the language, &c.,
-and continued:—'I always sleep on the floor for 1<i>d.</i>, and pay
-½<i>d.</i> besides for coke. At this lodging-house cats and kittens are
-melted down, sometimes twenty a day. A quart pot is a cat, and
-pints and half-pints are kittens. A kitten (pint) brings 3<i>d.</i> from
-the rag-shops, and a cat 6<i>d.</i> There's convenience to melt them
-down at the lodging-house. We can't sell clothes in the house,
-except any lodger wants them; and clothes nearly all go to the
-Jews in Petticoat-lane. Mrs. —— buys the sawney of us; so
-much for the lump, 2<i>d.</i> a pound about; she sells it again for
-twice what she gives, and more. Perhaps 30 lbs. of meat every
-day is sold to her. I have been in prison six times, and have
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span>
-had three dozen; each time I came out harder. If I left Mrs.
-——'s house I don't know how I could get my living. Lots of
-boys would get away if they could. I never drink. I don't like
-it. Very few of us boys drink. I don't like thieving, and often
-go about singing; but I can't live by singing, and I don't know
-how I could live honestly. If I had money enough to buy a stock
-of oranges, I think I could be honest.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Mr. Mayhew called a meeting of thieves and beggars
-at the Bristol Union School-room, Shakspeare Walk,
-Shadwell. One hundred and fifty of them—all under
-twenty years of age—attended. It may be doubted
-whether such a meeting could have been brought about
-in any other city. The young thieves and beggars
-were very fair samples of their numerous class. Of
-professed beggars, there were fifty; and sixty-six acknowledged
-themselves habitual thieves. The announcement
-that the greater number present were
-thieves, pleased them exceedingly, and was received
-with three rounds of applause! Fourteen of them had
-been in prison over twenty times, and twenty stated
-that they had been flogged in prison. Seventy-eight
-of them regularly roamed through the country every
-year; sixty-five slept regularly in the casual wards of
-the Unions; and fifty-two occasionally slept in trampers'
-lodging-houses throughout the country.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The ignorance prevailing among the vast number of
-street-sellers in London, is rather comically illustrated
-by Mr. Mayhew, in the following instance:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"One boy gave me his notions of men and things. He was a
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span>
-thick-limbed, red-cheeked fellow; answered very freely, and
-sometimes, when I could not help laughing at his replies, laughed
-loudly himself, as if he entered into the joke.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Yes, he had heer'd of God who made the world. Couldn't
-exactly recollec' when he'd heerd on him, but he had, most
-sarten-ly. Didn't know when the world was made, or how anybody
-could do it. It must have taken a long time. It was afore
-his time, 'or yourn either, sir.' Knew there was a book called
-the Bible; didn't know what it was about; didn't mind to know;
-knew of such a book to a sartinty, because a young 'oman took
-one to pop (pawn) for an old 'oman what was on the spree—a
-bran new 'un—but the cove wouldn't have it, and the old 'oman
-said he might be d——d. Never heer'd tell on the deluge, of the
-world having been drownded; it couldn't, for there wasn't water
-enough to do it. He weren't a going to fret hisself for such
-things as that. Didn't know what happened to people after death,
-only that they was buried. Had seen a dead body laid out; was
-a little afeared at first; poor Dick looked so different, and when
-you touched his face he was so cold! oh, so cold! Had heer'd
-on another world; wouldn't mind if he was there hisself, if he
-could do better, for things was often queer here. Had heer'd on
-it from a tailor—such a clever cove, a stunner—as went to
-'Straliar, (Australia,) and heer'd him say he was going into
-another world. Had never heer'd of France, but had heer'd of
-Frenchmen; there wasn't half a quarter so many on 'em as of
-Italians, with their ear-rings like flash gals. Didn't dislike
-foreigners, for he never saw none. What was they? Had
-heer'd of Ireland. Didn't know where it was, but it couldn't be
-very far, or such lots wouldn't come from there to London.
-Should say they walked it, ay, every bit of the way, for he'd seen
-them come in all covered with dust. Had heer'd of people going
-to sea, and had seen the ships in the river, but didn't know
-nothing about it, for he was very seldom that way. The sun was
-made of fire, or it wouldn't make you feel so warm. The stars
-was fire, too, or they wouldn't shine. They didn't make it warm,
-they was too small. Didn't know any use they was of. Didn't
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span>
-know how far they was off; a jolly lot higher than the gas lights
-some on 'em was. Was never in a church; had heer'd they
-worshipped God there; didn't know how it was done; had heer'd
-singing and praying inside when he'd passed; never was there,
-for he hadn't no togs to go in, and wouldn't be let in among such
-swells as he had seen coming out. Was a ignorant chap, for
-he'd never been to school, but was up to many a move, and didn't
-do bad. Mother said he would make his fortin yet.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Had heer'd of the Duke of Wellington; he was Old Nosey;
-didn't think he ever seed him, but had seen his statty. Hadn't
-heer'd of the battle of Waterloo, nor who it was atween; once
-lived in Webber-row, Waterloo-road. Thought he had heer'd
-speak of Bonaparte; didn't know what he was; thought he'd
-heer'd of Shakspeare, but didn't know whether he was alive or
-dead, and didn't care. A man with something like that name
-kept a dolly and did stunning; but he was sich a hard cove that
-if <i>he</i> was dead it wouldn't matter. Had seen the queen, but
-didn't recollec' her name just at the minute; oh! yes, Wictoria
-and Albert. Had no notion what the queen had to do. Should
-think she hadn't such power [he had first to ask me what 'power'
-was] as the lord mayor, or as Mr. Norton as was the Lambeth
-beak, and perhaps is still. Was never once before a beak, and
-didn't want to. Hated the crushers; what business had they to
-interfere with him if he was only resting his basket in a street?
-Had been once to the Wick, and once to the Bower; liked tumbling
-better; he meant to have a little pleasure when the peas
-came in."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The vagabond propensities of the street-children are
-thus described by Mr. Mayhew:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"As soon as the warm weather commences, boys and girls, but
-more especially boys, leave the town in shoals, traversing the
-country in every direction; some furnished with trifling articles
-(such as I have already enumerated) to sell, and others to begging,
-lurking, or thieving. It is not the street-sellers who so
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span>
-much resort to the tramp, as those who are devoid of the commonest
-notions of honesty; a quality these young vagrants sometimes
-respect when in fear of a jail, and the hard work with
-which such a place is identified in their minds—and to which,
-with the peculiar idiosyncrasy of a roving race, they have an
-insuperable objection.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I have met with boys and girls, however, to whom a jail had
-no terrors, and to whom, when in prison, there was only one
-dread, and that a common one among the ignorant, whether with
-or without any sense of religion—superstition. 'I lay in prison
-of a night, sir,' said a boy who was generally among the briskest
-of his class, 'and think I shall see things.' The 'things' represent
-the vague fears which many, not naturally stupid, but untaught
-or ill-taught persons, entertain in the dark. A girl, a
-perfect termagant in the breaking of windows and suchlike
-offences, told me something of the same kind. She spoke well
-of the treatment she experienced in prison, and seemed to have a
-liking for the matron and officials; her conduct there was quiet
-and respectful. I believe she was not addicted to drink.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Many of the girls, as well as the boys, of course trade as
-they 'tramp.' They often sell, both in the country and in town,
-little necklaces composed of red berries strung together upon
-thick thread, for dolls and children; but although I have asked
-several of them, I have never yet found one who collected the
-berries and made the necklaces themselves; neither have I met
-with a single instance in which the girl vendors knew the name
-of the berries thus used, nor indeed even that they <i>were</i> berries.
-The invariable reply to my questions upon this point has been
-that they 'are called necklaces;' that 'they are just as they sells
-'em to us;' that they 'don't know whether they are made or
-whether they grow;' and in most cases, that they 'gets them in
-London, by Shoreditch;' although in one case a little brown-complexioned
-girl, with bright sparkling eyes, said that 'she got
-them from the gipsies.' At first I fancied, from this child's appearance,
-that she was rather superior in intellect to most of her
-class; but I soon found that she was not a whit above the others,
-unless, indeed, it were in the possession of the quality of cunning."</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The regular "tramps," or wandering vagabonds, are
-very numerous throughout Great Britain. At certain
-periods they issue from all the large towns, and prey
-upon the rural districts like swarms of locusts. In no
-other country can be found so constant a class of vagrants.
-The gipsies form but a small portion of the
-"tramps." These vagrants are miserably clothed,
-filthy, covered with vermin, and generally very much
-diseased—sometimes from debauchery, and sometimes
-from want of food and from exposure. Very few of
-them are married. The women are nearly all prostitutes.
-The manner of life of these wanderers is
-curious. They beg during the day in the towns, or
-along the roads; and they so arrange their day's
-tramp as to arrive, most nights, in the neighbourhood
-of the workhouses. They then hide the money they
-have collected by begging, and present themselves,
-after sunset, at the gates of the workhouse, to beg a
-night's lodging. To nearly every workhouse there are
-attached vagrant wards, or buildings which are specially
-set apart for the reception of tramps such as
-those we have described. These wards are commonly
-brick buildings, of one story in height. They have
-brick floors and guard-room beds, with loose straw and
-rugs for the males, and iron bedsteads, with straw, for
-the females. They are badly ventilated, and unprovided
-with any means for producing warmth. All holes for
-ventilation are sure to be stopped up at night, by the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span>
-occupants, with rags or straw, so that the stench of
-these sleeping-places is disgusting in the extreme.
-Guards are appointed for these wards, but such is the
-immorality and indecency of the vagrants, that the
-most disgusting scenes are common in them. The
-wards resound with the vilest songs and the foulest
-language; and so numerous are the "tramps" that the
-guardians find it impossible to separate the sexes.
-This vast evil of vagrancy is constantly increasing,
-and is a natural result of the monopolies and oppressions
-of the aristocracy. It is stated that on the 25th
-of March, 1848, the 626 Unions of England and Wales
-relieved 16,086 vagrants. But this scarcely gives an
-idea of the magnitude of the evil. Between 40,000
-and 50,000 "tramps" infest the roads and streets of
-England and Wales every day. The majority of them
-are thieves, and nearly all are almost brutally ignorant.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In London there are large numbers of small dealers,
-called costermongers and patterers. Persons belonging
-to these classes seldom or never rise above their trade,
-and they seem to have a kind of hereditary pride in
-their degraded position. Many of the costermongers
-and patterers are thieves, and the general character of
-these classes is very debased; ignorance and immorality
-prevail to a fearful extent. The patterers are more
-intelligent than the costermongers, but they are also
-more immoral. They help off their wares, which are
-chiefly stationery and quack medicines, by long harangues,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span>
-while the costermongers merely cry their fish,
-greens, &c. about the streets. The number of people
-dependent upon costermongering in London is about
-thirty thousand. The patterers are not so numerous.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Concubinage is the rule and marriage the exception
-among both costermongers and patterers. Mr. Mayhew
-estimates that only one-tenth of the couples living together
-and carrying on the costermongering trade are
-married. There is no honour attached to the marriage
-state and no shame to concubinage. In good times the
-women are rigidly faithful to their paramours, but in
-the worst pinch of poverty a departure from fidelity is
-not considered heinous. About three out of a hundred
-costermongers ever attend a church, and the majority
-of them have no knowledge of Christianity; they associate
-the Church of England and aristocracy, and hate
-both. Slang is acquired very rapidly, and some costermongers
-will converse in it by the hour. The women
-use it sparingly; the girls more than the women; the
-men more than the girls; and the boys most of all.
-Pronouncing backward is the simple principle upon
-which the costermonger slang is founded.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The patterers, though a vagrant, are an organized
-class. Mr. Mayhew says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"There is a telegraphic despatch between them, through the
-length and breadth of the land. If two patterers (previously unacquainted)
-meet in the provinces, the following, or something
-like it, will be their conversation:—Can you 'voker romeny' (can
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span>
-you speak cant?) What is your 'monekeer?' (name.) Perhaps
-it turns out that one is 'White-headed Bob,' and the other 'Plymouth
-Ned,' They have a 'shant of gatter' (pot of beer) at the
-nearest 'boozing ken,' (ale-house,) and swear eternal friendship
-to each other. The old saying, that 'When the liquor is in the
-wit is out,' is remarkably fulfilled on these occasions, for they
-betray to the 'flatties' (natives) all their profits and proceedings.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It is to be supposed that in country districts, where there are
-no streets, the patterer is obliged to call at the houses. As they
-are mostly without the hawker's license, and sometimes find wet
-linen before it is lost, the rural districts are not fond of their visits;
-and there are generally two or three persons in a village reported
-to be 'gammy,' that is, unfavourable. If a patterer has been
-'crabbed,' that is, offended, at any of the 'cribs,' (houses,) he
-mostly chalks a signal on or near the door. I give one or two
-instances:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Bone,' meaning good.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Cooper'd,' spoiled by the imprudence of some other patterer.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Gammy,' likely to have you taken up.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Flummut,' sure of a month in quod.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In most lodging-houses there is an old man who is the guide
-to every 'walk' in the vicinity, and who can tell every house on
-every round that is 'good for a cold 'tater.' In many cases there
-is over the kitchen mantel-piece a map of the district, dotted here
-and there with memorandums of failure or success.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Patterers are fond of carving their names and avocations
-about the houses they visit. The old jail at Dartford has been
-some years a 'padding-ken.' In one of the rooms appear the
-following autographs:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Jemmy, the Rake, bound to Bristol; bad beds, but no bugs.
-Thank God for all things.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Razor George and his moll slept here the day after Christmas;
-just out of "stir," (jail,) for "muzzling a peeler."'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Scotch Mary, with "driz," (lace,) bound to Dover and back,
-please God.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Sometimes these inscriptions are coarse and obscene; sometimes
-very well written and orderly. Nor do they want illustrations.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"At the old factory, Lincoln, is a portrait of the town beadle,
-formerly a soldier; it is drawn with different-coloured chalks, and
-ends with the following couplet:—</p>
-
-<div class="poetry-container">
- <div class="poetry">
- <div class="verse">'You are a B for false swearing,</div>
- <div class="verse">In hell they'll roast you like a herring.'</div>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">"Concubinage is very common among patterers, especially on
-their travels; they have their regular rounds, and call the peregrination
-'going on circuit.' For the most part they are early
-risers; this gives them a facility for meeting poor girls who have
-had a night's shelter in the union workhouses. They offer such
-girls some refreshments, swear they are single men, and promise
-comforts certainly superior to the immediate position of their
-victims. Consent is generally obtained; perhaps a girl of fourteen
-or fifteen, previously virtuous, is induced to believe in a promise
-of constant protection, but finds herself, the next morning,
-ruined and deserted; nor is it unlikely that, within a month or
-two, she will see her seducer in the company of a dozen incidental
-wives. A gray-headed miscreant, called 'Cutler Tom,' boasts
-of five hundred such exploits; and there is too great reason to
-believe that the picture of his own drawing is not greatly overcharged."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">A reverend gentleman, who had enjoyed the best
-opportunities for observing the patterers, gave Mr.
-Mayhew the following information:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"I have seen fathers and mothers place their boys and girls in
-positions of incipient enormity, and command them to use language
-and gestures to each other which would make a harlot
-blush, and almost a heathen tremble. I have hitherto viewed the
-patterer as a salesman, having something in his hand, on whose
-merits, real or pretended, he talks people out of their money. By
-slow degrees prosperity rises, but rapid is the advance of evil.
-The patterer sometimes gets 'out of stock,' and is obliged, at no
-great sacrifice of conscience, to 'patter' in another strain. In
-every large town, sham official documents, with crests, seals, and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span>
-signatures, can be got for half-a-crown. Armed with these, the
-patterer becomes a 'lurker,' that is, an impostor; his papers certify
-any and every 'ill that flesh is heir to.' Shipwreck is called
-a 'shake lurk;' loss by fire is a 'glim.' Sometimes the petitioner
-has had a horse which has dropped dead with the mad staggers;
-or has a wife ill or dying, and six or seven children at once sickening
-of the small-pox. Children are borrowed to support the
-appearance; the case is certified by the minister and churchwardens
-of a parish which exists only in imagination; and as many
-people dislike the trouble of investigation, the patterer gets enough
-to raise a stock in trade, and divides the spoil between the swag-shop
-and the gin-palace. Sometimes they are detected, and get
-a 'drag,' (three months in prison.)</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"They have many narrow escapes; one occurs to me of a somewhat
-ludicrous character:—A patterer and lurker (now dead)
-known by the name of 'Captain Moody,' unable to get a 'fakement'
-written or printed, was standing almost naked in the streets
-of a neighbouring town. A gentleman stood still and heard his
-piteous tale, but, having been 'done' more than once, he resolved
-to examine the affair, and begged the petitioner to conduct him
-to his wife and children, who were in a garret on a bed of languishing,
-with neither clothes, food, nor fire, but, it appeared,
-with faith enough to expect a supply from 'Him who feedeth the
-ravens,' and in whose sacred name even a cold 'tater was implored.
-The patterer, or half-patterer and half-beggar, took the
-gentleman (who promised a sovereign if every thing was square)
-through innumerable and intricate windings, till he came to an
-outhouse or sort of stable. He saw the key outside the door, and
-begged the gentleman to enter and wait till he borrowed a light
-of a neighbour to show him up-stairs. The illumination never
-arrived, and the poor charitable man found that the miscreant
-had locked him into the stable. The patterer went to the padding-ken,
-told the story with great glee, and left that locality
-within an hour of the occurrence."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, and other provincial
-cities possess an ignorant and immoral population
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span>
-quite equal, in proportion to the entire population
-of each city, to that of London. In each may be found
-a degraded class, with scarcely any ideas of religion or
-morality, living in the most wretched manner, and
-practising every species of vice. The cellar-houses, in
-which many of them live, have been described in another
-chapter. They are the filthy abodes of a people almost
-reduced to a brutish condition. In Liverpool parish
-there is a <i>cellar-population of 20,000</i>, a large number
-of whom are continually engaged in criminal practices.
-There are portions of the city of Glasgow which a
-stranger could scarcely traverse safely at night, and
-where an amount of vice and misery may be witnessed
-which is not exceeded in either London or Liverpool.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the mining and manufacturing districts of England
-there is much ignorance and more vice. In both, there
-are schools of a miserable character, but those young
-persons who can find time to attend them learn nothing
-beyond reading, writing, and the simplest rules of arithmetic.
-The mining labour, as carried on in the mines
-of England, is extremely demoralizing in its tendency,
-as we have shown in another part of this work. The
-report of parliamentary commissioners contains some
-statements in regard to the darkness of mind and corruption
-of heart among young persons employed in the
-various trades and manufactures.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The following facts are quoted from the Second Report
-of the "Children's Employment Commission."</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The moral and religious state of the children and
-young persons employed in the trades and manufactures
-of Birmingham, is described by the sub-commissioners
-as very unfavourable. The social and domestic duties
-and affections are but little cultivated and practised;
-great numbers never attend any place of public worship;
-and of the state of juvenile crime some conception may
-be formed by the statement, that of the total number of
-known or suspected offenders in this town, during the
-twelve last months—namely, 1223—at least one-half
-were under fifteen years of age.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">As to illicit sexual intercourse, it seems to prevail
-almost universally, and from a very early period of life;
-to this common conclusion witnesses of every rank give
-testimony.</p>
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">Wolverhampton.</span>—Of the moral condition of the
-youthful population in the Wolverhampton district, Mr.
-Horne says—"Putting together all I elicited from various
-witnesses and conversations with working people,
-abroad and at home, and all that fell under my observation,
-I am obliged to come to the conclusion, that the
-moral virtues of the great majority of the children are
-as few in number and as feeble in practice as can well
-be conceived in a civilized country, surrounded by religious
-and educational institutions, and by individuals
-anxious for the improvement of the condition of the
-working classes."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">He adds of <span class="sc">Wittenhall</span>—"A lower condition of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span>
-morals, in the fullest sense of the term, could not, I
-think, be found. I do not mean by this that there are
-many more prominent vices among them, but that moral
-feelings and sentiments do not exist among them. They
-have no morals."</p>
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">Sheffield.</span>—In all the Sheffield trades, employing
-large numbers of children, it is stated that there is a
-much closer intermixture of the younger children with
-the elder youths, and with the men, than is usual in
-the cotton, woollen, and flax factories; and that the
-conversation to which the children are compelled to
-listen, would debase their minds and blunt their moral
-feelings even if they had been carefully and virtuously
-educated, but that of course this result takes place
-more rapidly and completely in the case of those who
-have had little or no religious culture, and little but
-bad example before their eyes from their cradle upward.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Habits of drinking are formed at a very early age,
-malt liquor being generally introduced into the workshops,
-of which the youngest children are encouraged
-to partake. "Very many," say the police-officers,
-"frequent beer-shops, where they play at dominoes,
-bagatelle, &c. for money or drink." Early intemperance
-is assigned by the medical men as one cause of the
-great mortality of Sheffield. "There are beer-houses,"
-says the Rev. Mr. Farish, "attended by youths exclusively,
-for the men will not have them in the same houses
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span>
-with themselves. In these beer-houses are youths of
-both sexes encouraged to meet, and scenes destructive
-of every vestige of virtue or morality ensue.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">But it is stated by all classes of witnesses, that "the
-most revolting feature of juvenile depravity in this
-town is early contamination from the association of the
-sexes," that "juvenile prostitution is exceedingly common."
-"The evidence," says the sub-commissioner,
-"might have been doubled which attests the early
-commencement of sexual and promiscuous intercourse
-among boys and girls."</p>
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">Sedgley.</span>—At Sedgley and the neighbouring villages,
-the number of girls employed in nail-making
-considerably exceeds that of the boys. Of these girls
-Mr. Horne reports—"Their appearance, manners, habits,
-and moral natures (so far as the word <i>moral</i> can
-be applied to them) are in accordance with their half-civilized
-condition. Constantly associating with ignorant
-and depraved adults and young persons of the
-opposite sex, they naturally fall into all their ways;
-and drink, smoke, swear, throw off all restraint in word
-and act, and become as bad as a man. The heat of
-the forge and the hardness of the work renders few
-clothes needful in winter; and in summer, the six or
-seven individuals who are crowded into these little dens
-find the heat almost suffocating. The men and boys
-are usually naked, except a pair of trousers and an
-open shirt, though they very often have no shirt; and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span>
-the women and girls have only a thin ragged petticoat,
-and an open shirt without sleeves."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">In the mining districts, there is even more ignorance
-and depravity than in the places where factories and
-workshops abound. The nature of the work, and various
-wants, such as no freemen would suffer from—want
-of proper schools and proper amusements—induce
-this state of things. An American visiting any of these
-mining districts, would be astounded at the dulness,
-ignorance, and viciousness that prevails among the
-labourers—men and women, boys and girls. Many of
-them are perfect heathens—never hearing of God except
-when his awful name is "taken in vain." Of Christ
-and his mission they hear somewhat, but know nothing
-positively. Newspapers—those daily and weekly messengers
-that keep Americans fully informed of the affairs
-of the world—they seldom see. The gin-shop and
-the brothel are their common resorts.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Missionaries are wanted in Great Britain. Alas!
-that in the middle of the nineteenth century, there
-should be so many hundreds of thousands of people, in
-the vicinity of a costly church establishment, without
-any knowledge of the Bible!—that a professedly
-Christian government should keep so many souls in
-ignorance of Christianity!—that a country boasting
-of its civilization and enlightenment should contain so
-much darkness and depravity!</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span></p>
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">COOLIE SLAVERY IN THE BRITISH COLONIES.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> British government emancipated the negro
-slaves held under its authority in the West Indies,
-thereby greatly depreciating the value of the islands,
-permitting a half-tamed race to fall back into a state
-of moral and mental darkness, and adding twenty millions
-to the national debt, to be paid out of the sweat
-and blood of her own white serfs. This was termed a
-grand act of humanity; those who laboured for it have
-been lauded and laurelled without stint, and English
-writers have been exceedingly solicitous that the world
-should not "burst in ignorance" of the achievement.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_433.jpg" id="i_433.jpg"></a>
- <img src="images/i_433.jpg"
- alt="" />
- <div class="caption">COOLIES.</div>
-</div>
-
-<p class="i1">Being free, the negroes, with the indolence inherent
-in their nature, would not work. Many purses suffered
-in consequence, and the purse is a very tender place to
-injure many persons. It became necessary to substitute
-other labourers for the free negroes, and the
-Coolies of India were taken to the Antilles for experiment.
-These labourers were generally sober,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span>
-steady, and industrious. But how were they treated?
-A colonist of Martinique, who visited Trinidad in
-June, 1848, thus writes to the French author of a
-treatise on free and slave labour:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"If I could fully describe to you the evils and suffering endured
-by the Indian immigrants (Coolies) in that horribly governed
-colony, I should rend the heart of the Christian world by a recital
-of enormities unknown in the worst periods of colonial
-slavery.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Borrowing the language of the prophet, I can truly say,'The
-whole head is sick, and the whole heart is sad; from the sole of
-the foot to the top of the head nothing is sound;' wounds, sores,
-swollen ulcers, which are neither bandaged, nor soothed, nor
-rubbed with oil.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"My soul has been deeply afflicted by all that I have seen.
-How many human beings lost! So far as I can judge, in spite
-of their wasting away, all are young, perishing under the weight
-of disease. Most of them are dropsical, for want of nourishment.
-Groups of children, the most interesting I have ever seen,
-scions of a race doomed to misfortune, were remarkable for their
-small limbs, wrinkled and reduced to the size of spindles—and
-not a rag to cover them! And to think that all this misery, all
-this destruction of humanity, all this waste of the stock of a
-ruined colony, might have been avoided, but has not been!
-Great God! it is painful beyond expression to think that such a
-neglect of duty and of humanity on the part of the colonial authorities,
-as well of the metropolis as of the colony—a neglect
-which calls for a repressive if not a retributive justice—will go
-entirely unpunished, as it has hitherto done, notwithstanding the
-indefatigable efforts of Colonel Fagan, the superintendent of the
-immigrants in this colony, an old Indian officer of large experience,
-of whom I have heard nothing but good, and never any
-evil thing spoken, in all my travels through the island.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I am told that Colonel Fagan prepared a regulation for the government
-and protection of the immigrants—which regulation
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span>
-would probably realize, beyond all expectation, the object aimed
-at; but scarcely had he commenced his operations when orders
-arrived from the metropolis to suppress it, and substitute another
-which proceeded from the ministry. The Governor, Mr. Harris,
-displeased that his own regulation was thus annulled, pronounced
-the new order impossible to be executed, and it was withdrawn
-without having been properly tried. The minister sent another
-order in regard to immigration, prepared in his hotel in Downing
-street; but Governor Harris pronounced it to be still more difficult
-of execution than the first, and it, too, failed. It is in this
-manner that, from beginning to end, the affairs of the Indian
-immigrants have been conducted. It was only necessary to treat
-them with justice and kindness to render them—thanks to their
-active superintendent—the best labourers that could be imported
-into the colony. They are now protected neither by regulations
-nor ordinances; no attention is paid to the experienced voice of
-their superintendent—full of benevolence for them, and always
-indefatigably profiting by what can be of advantage to them.
-If disease renders a Coolie incapable of work, he is driven from
-his habitation. This happens continually; he is not in that case
-even paid his wages. What, then, can the unfortunate creature
-do? Very different from the Creole or the African; far distant
-from his country, without food, without money; disease, the
-result of insufficient food and too severe labour, makes it impossible
-for him to find employment. He drags himself into the
-forests or upon the skirts of the roads, lies there and dies!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Some years since, the unfortunate Governor (Wall) of Gorea
-was hung for having pitilessly inflicted a fatal corporal punishment
-on a negro soldier found guilty of mutiny; and this soldier,
-moreover, was under his orders. In the present case, I can prove
-a neglect to a great extent murderous. The victims are Indian
-Coolies of Trinidad. In less than one year, as is shown by
-official documents, <i>two thousand</i> corpses of these unfortunate
-creatures have furnished food to the crows of the island; and a
-similar system is pursued, not only without punishment, but
-without even forming the subject of an official inquest. Strange
-and deplorable contradiction! and yet the nation which gives us
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span>
-this example boasts of extending the ægis of its protection over
-all its subjects, without distinction! It is this nation, also, that
-complacently takes to itself the credit of extending justice equally
-over all classes, over the lordly peer and the humblest subject,
-without fear, favour, or affection!"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In the Mauritius, the Coolies who have been imported
-are in a miserable condition. The planters
-have profited by enslaving these mild and gentle
-Hindoos, and rendering them wretched.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"By aid of continued Coolie immigration," says Mr. Henry C.
-Carey,<a name="FNanchor_103_103" id="FNanchor_103_103"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a>
-"the export of sugar from the Mauritius has been doubled
-in the last sixteen years, having risen from seventy to one hundred
-and forty millions of pounds. Sugar is therefore very
-cheap, and the foreign competition is thereby driven from the
-British market. 'Such conquests,' however, says, very truly, the
-London Spectator, 'don't always bring profit to the conqueror;
-nor does production itself prove prosperity. Competition for the
-possession of a field may be carried so far as to reduce prices
-below prime cost; and it is clear, from the notorious facts of the
-West Indies—from the change of property, from the total unproductiveness
-of much property still—that the West India production
-of sugar has been carried on not only without replacing
-capital, but with a constant sinking of capital.' The 'free'
-Coolie and the 'free' negro of Jamaica have been urged to competition
-for the sale of sugar, and they seem likely to perish
-together; but compensation for this is found in the fact that
-'free trade has, in reducing the prices of commodities for home
-consumption, enabled the labourer to devote a greater share of
-his income toward purchasing clothing and luxuries, and has increased
-the home trade to an enormous extent.' What effect this
-reduction of 'the prices of commodities for home consumption'
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span>
-has had upon the poor Coolies, may be judged from the following
-passage:—'I here beheld, for the first time, a class of beings of
-whom we have heard much, and for whom I have felt considerable
-interest. I refer to the Coolies imported by the British government
-to take the places of the <i>faineant</i> negroes, when the apprenticeship
-system was abolished. Those I saw were wandering
-about the streets, dressed rather tastefully, but always meanly,
-and usually carrying over their shoulder a sort of <i>chiffonnier's</i>
-sack, in which they threw whatever refuse stuff they found in the
-streets or received as charity. Their figures are generally superb,
-and their Eastern costume, to which they adhere as far as their
-poverty will permit of any clothing, sets off their lithe and graceful
-forms to great advantage. Their faces are almost uniformly
-of the finest classic mould, and illuminated by pairs of those
-dark, swimming, and propitiatory eyes which exhaust the language
-of tenderness and passion at a glance. But they are the
-most inveterate mendicants on the island. It is said that those
-brought from the interior of India are faithful and efficient workmen,
-while those from Calcutta and its vicinity are good for
-nothing. Those that were prowling about the streets of Spanish
-Town and Kingston, I presume were of the latter class, for there
-is not a planter on the island, it is said, from whom it would be
-more difficult to get any work than from one of them. They subsist
-by begging altogether. They are not vicious nor intemperate,
-nor troublesome particularly, except as beggars. In that calling
-they have a pertinacity before which a Northern mendicant would
-grow pale. They will not be denied. They will stand perfectly
-still and look through a window from the street for a quarter of
-an hour, if not driven away, with their imploring eyes fixed upon
-you like a stricken deer, without saying a word or moving a
-muscle. They act as if it were no disgrace for them to beg, as if
-an indemnification which they are entitled to expect, for the outrage
-perpetrated upon them in bringing them from their distant
-homes to this strange island, is a daily supply of their few and
-cheap necessities, as they call for them. I confess that their
-begging did not leave upon my mind the impression produced by
-ordinary mendicancy. They do not look as if they ought to
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span>
-work. I never saw one smile; and though they showed no positive
-suffering, I never saw one look happy. Each face seemed to
-be constantly telling the unhappy story of their woes, and, like
-fragments of a broken mirror, each reflecting in all its hateful
-proportions the national outrage of which they are the victims.'"<a name="FNanchor_104_104"
-id="FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a></p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">English writers have frequently charged the citizens
-of the United States with being sordid, and caring
-more for pecuniary profit than honourable principle.
-No national measure of the great North American
-Republic, however, is so deeply tainted with avaricious
-motives as the colonial enactments and commercial
-schemes of Great Britain. Witness the government
-of British India, and the infamous traffic in opium
-forced upon the Chinese. In the conveyance of Coolies
-to the West Indies, and their treatment while toiling
-in those islands, we see the same base spirit displayed.
-All considerations of humanity have been sacrificed to
-calculations of profit. A people, naturally mild and
-intelligent, have been taken from their native land to
-distant islands, to take the place of the fierce and barbarous
-Africans, to whose civilization slavery seems
-almost necessary; and in their new land of bondage
-these poor creatures have been deprived of the inducements
-to steady exertion, and left to beg or starve.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">After the passage of the act abolishing negro
-slavery, an arrangement was sanctioned by the colonial
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span>
-government for the introduction of Indian labourers
-into the Mauritius, under a species of apprenticeship.
-The Coolies were engaged at five rupees, equal
-to ten shillings a month, for five years, with also one
-pound of rice, a quarter of a pound of dhall, or grain—a
-kind of pulse—and one ounce of butter, or ghee,
-daily. But for every day they were absent from their
-work they were to return two days to their masters,
-who retained one rupee per month to pay an advance
-made of six months' wages, and to defray the expense
-of their passage. If these men came into Port Louis
-to complain of their masters, they were lodged in the
-Bagne prison till their masters were summoned! Before
-the magistrates the masters had a great advantage
-over their servants. The latter being foreigners,
-but few of them could speak French, and they had no
-one to assist them in pleading their cause. They
-generally represented themselves as having been deceived
-with respect to the kind of labour to be required
-of them.<a name="FNanchor_105_105" id="FNanchor_105_105"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">A large number of Indian convicts have been transported
-to the Mauritius, and their slavery is deplorable.
-Backhouse, who visited the island when these
-poor wretches were not so numerous as they now are,
-says—"Among the Indian convicts working on the
-road, we noticed one wearing chains; several had a
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span>
-slight single ring round the ankle. They are lodged in
-huts with flat roofs, or in other inferior dwellings near
-the road. There are about seven hundred of them in
-the island. What renders them peculiarly objects of
-sympathy is, that they were sent here for life, and no
-hope of any remission of sentence is held out to them
-for good conduct. Theirs is a hopeless bondage; and
-though it is said by some that they are not hard worked,
-yet they are generally, perhaps constantly, breaking
-stones and mending the roads, and under a tropical
-sun. There are among them persons who were so
-young when transported that, in their offences, they
-could only be looked on as the dupes of those who were
-older, and many of them bear good characters."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The hopeless slavery of these convicts is a doom
-which displays, in a striking light, the characteristics
-of British philanthropy. Death would be preferable to
-such a punishment, in the estimation of many of the
-Hindoos; but the British authorities are determined to
-make the punishment pay! After the "eternal blazon"
-concerning the act of emancipating negroes, for which
-the pauperized labourers of Great Britain had to pay
-by their slavery, the colonial government created
-another system, attended with the misery and degradation
-of a people better fitted for freedom than the
-negroes. The civilized world is requested to look on
-and admire!</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span></p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">SLAVERY IN BRITISH INDIA.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> extensive, populous, and wealthy peninsula of
-Hindostan has suffered greatly from the crushing
-effects of the British slave system. From the foundation
-of the empire in India by Clive, conquest and
-extortion seem to have been the grand objects of the
-aristocratic government. There unscrupulous soldiers
-have fought, slaughtered, enslaved, and plundered.
-There younger sons, with rank, but without fortune,
-have filled their purses. There vast and magnificent
-tracts of country have been wasted with fire and sword,
-in punishment for the refusal of native princes to become
-slaves. There the fat of the land has been garnered
-up for the luxury of the conquerors, while famine
-has destroyed the people by thousands. There, indeed,
-has the British aristocracy displayed its most malignant
-propensities—rioting in robbery and bloodshed—setting
-all religion at defiance, while upholding the
-Christian standard—and earning to the full the continued
-execration of mankind.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">In a powerful work, called "The Aristocracy of
-England: a History for the People, by John Hampden,
-Jun.," a book we commend to the people of
-England, we have the following passage:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"From the hour that Clive and his coadjutors came into the discovery
-of the vast treasures of the native princes, whence he himself
-obtained, besides his jaghire of £30,000 per annum, about
-£300,000; and he and his fellows altogether, between 1759 and
-1763, no less than £5,940,498, exclusive of this said jaghire, the
-cupidity of the aristocracy became excited to the highest degree;
-and from that period to the present, India has been one scene of
-flights of aristocratic locusts, of fighting, plundering, oppression,
-and extortion of the natives. We will not go into these things;
-they are fully and faithfully written in Mills's 'History of British
-India;' in Howitt's 'Colonization and Christianity;' and, above
-all, in the letters of the Honourable Frederick Shore, brother of
-Lord Teignmouth, a man who passed through all offices—from a
-clerk to that of a judge—and saw much of the system and working
-of things in many parts of India. He published his letters
-originally in the India papers, that any one on the spot might
-challenge their truth; and, since his death, they have been
-reprinted in England. The scene which that work opens up is
-the most extraordinary, and demands the attention of every lover
-of his country and his species. It fully accounts for the strange
-facts, that India is now drained of its wealth; that its public
-works, especially the tanks, which contributed by their waters to
-maintain its fertility, are fallen to decay; that one-third of the
-country is a jungle inhabited by tigers, who pay no taxes; that
-its people are reduced to the utmost wretchedness, and are often,
-when a crop fails, swept away by half a million at once by
-famine and its pendant, pestilence, as in 1770, and again in
-1838-9. To such a degree is this reduction of the wealth and
-cultivation of India carried, that while others of our colonies pay
-taxes to the amount of a pound or thirty shillings per head, India
-pays only four shillings.</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"At the renewal of its charter in 1834, its income was about
-<i>twenty millions</i>, its debt about <i>forty millions</i>. Since then its income
-has gradually fallen to about <i>seventeen millions</i>, and its
-debt we hear now whispered to be about <i>seventy millions</i>. Such
-have been the effects of exhausted fields and physical energies on
-the one hand, and of wars, especially that of Afghanistan, on the
-other. It requires no conjurer, much less a very profound arithmetician,
-to perceive that at this rate we need be under no apprehension
-of Russia, for a very few years will take India out of our
-hands by mere financial force.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Our aristocratic government, through the Board of Control,
-keep up and exert a vast patronage in India. The patronage of
-the president of this board alone, independent of his salary of
-£5000 a year, is about <i>twenty-one</i> thousand pounds. But the
-whole aristocracy have an interest in keeping up wars in India,
-that their sons as officers, especially in these times of European
-peace, may find here both employment and promotion. This,
-then, the Company has to contend against; and few are they
-who are aware of the formidable nature of this power as it is exerted
-in this direction, and of the strange and unconstitutional
-legislative authority with which they have armed themselves for
-this purpose. How few are they who are aware that, while the
-East India Company has been blamed as the planners, authors,
-and movers of the fatal and atrocious invasion of Caboul, that the
-Directors of the Company only first, and to their great amazement,
-learned the outbreak of that war from the public Indian
-papers. So far from that war being one of their originating, it
-was most opposed to their present policy, and disastrous to their
-affairs. How then came this monstrous war about, and <i>who</i> then
-did originate it? To explain this requires us to lay open a
-monstrous stretch of unconstitutional power on the part of our
-government—a monstrous stratagem for the maintenance of their
-aristocratic views in India, which it is wonderful could have
-escaped the notice and reprehension of the public. Let the
-reader mark well what follows.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In the last charter, granted in 1834, a clause was introduced,
-binding a secret committee of the East India Company, consisting
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span>
-of three persons only, the chairman, deputy chairman, and senior
-director, who are solemnly sworn to this work, to receive private
-despatches from the Board of Control, and without communicating
-them to a single individual besides themselves, to forward
-them to India, where the receivers are bound, <i>without question or
-appeal</i>, to enforce their immediate execution. By this inquisitorial
-system, this worse than Spanish or Venetian system of secret
-decrees, government has reserved to itself a direction of the
-affairs of India, freed from all constitutional or representative
-check, and reduced the India Company to a mere cat's-paw. By
-the sworn secrecy and implicit obedience of this mysterious triumvirate,
-the Company is made the unconscious instrument of
-measures most hostile to its own views, and most fatal to its best
-interests. It may at any hour become the medium of a secret
-order which may threaten the very destruction of its empire.
-Such was the case with the war of Caboul. The aristocratic
-government at home planned and ordered it; and the unconscious
-Company was made at once to carry out a scheme so
-atrocious, so wicked and unprincipled, as well as destructive to
-its plans of civil economy, and to bear also the infamy of it.
-Awaking, therefore, to the tremendous nature of the secret powers
-thus introduced into their machinery by government, the Company
-determined to exercise also a power happily intrusted to
-<i>them</i>. Hence the recall of Lord Ellenborough, who, in obedience
-to aristocratic views at home, was not only running headlong
-over all their plans of pacific policy, but with his armies and elephants
-was treading under foot their cotton and sugar plantations.
-Hence, on the other hand, the favour and support which this
-warlike lord finds with the great martial duke, and the home
-government."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The policy of the European conquerors of India was
-fully illustrated during the gubernatorial term of Warren
-Hastings. Of his extortion the eloquent Macaulay
-says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The principle which directed all his dealings with his neighbours
-is fully expressed by the old motto of one of the great
-predatory families of Teviotdale—'Thou shalt want ere I want,'
-He seems to have laid it down, as a fundamental proposition
-which could not be disputed, that when he had not as many lacs
-of rupees as the public service required, he was to take them from
-anybody who had. One thing, indeed, is to be said in excuse for
-him. The pressure applied to him by his employers at home was
-such as only the highest virtue could have withstood—such as
-left him no choice except to commit great wrongs, or to resign
-his high post, and with that post all his hopes of fortune and distinction.
-It is perfectly true, that the directors never enjoined
-or applauded any crime. Far from it. Whoever examines their
-letters at that time will find there many just and humane sentiments,
-many excellent precepts; in short, an admirable circle of
-political ethics. But every exhortation is modified or annulled
-by a demand for money. 'Govern leniently, and send more
-money; practise strict justice and moderation toward neighbouring
-powers, and send more money;' this is, in truth, the sum of
-almost all the instructions that Hastings ever received from
-home. Now these instructions, being interpreted, mean simply,
-'Be the father and the oppressor of the people; be just and unjust,
-moderate and rapacious.' The directors dealt with India
-as the church, in the good old times, dealt with a heretic. They
-delivered the victim over to the executioners, with an earnest
-request that all possible tenderness might be shown. We by no
-means accuse or suspect those who framed these despatches of
-hypocrisy. It is probable that, writing fifteen thousand miles
-from the place where their orders were to be carried into effect,
-they never perceived the gross inconsistency of which they were
-guilty. But the inconsistency was at once manifest to their
-lieutenant at Calcutta, who, with an empty treasury, with an unpaid
-army, with his own salary often in arrear, with deficient
-crops, with government tenants daily running away, was called
-upon to remit home another half million without fail. Hastings
-saw that it was absolutely necessary for him to disregard either
-the moral discourses or the pecuniary requisitions of his employers.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span>
-Being forced to disobey them in something, he had to
-consider what kind of disobedience they would most readily pardon;
-and he correctly judged that the safest course would be to
-neglect the sermons and to find the rupees."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">How were the rupees found? By selling provinces
-that had never belonged to the British dominions; by
-the destruction of the brave Rohillas of Rohilcund, in
-the support of the cruel tyrant, Surajah Dowlah, sovereign
-of Oude, of which terrible act Macaulay says—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Then the horrors of Indian war were let loose on the fair
-valleys and cities of Rohilcund; the whole country was in a blaze.
-More than a hundred thousand people fled from their homes to
-pestilential jungles, preferring famine and fever and the haunts
-of tigers to the tyranny of him to whom an English and a Christian
-government had, for shameful lucre, sold their substance and
-their blood, and the honour of their wives and daughters. Colonel
-Champion remonstrated with the Nabob Vizier, and sent strong
-representations to Fort William; but the governor had made no
-conditions as to the mode in which the war was to be carried on.
-He had troubled himself about nothing but his forty lacs; and,
-though he might disapprove of Surajah Dowlah's wanton barbarity,
-he did not think himself entitled to interfere, except by offering
-advice. This delicacy excites the admiration of the reverend biographer.
-'Mr. Hastings,' he says, 'could not himself dictate to
-the Nabob, nor permit the commander of the Company's troops
-to dictate how the war was to be carried on.' No, to be sure.
-Mr. Hastings had only to put down by main force the brave struggles
-of innocent men fighting for their liberty. Their military
-resistance crushed, his duties ended; and he had then only to
-fold his arms and look on while their villages were burned, their
-children butchered, and their women violated."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">By such a course of action, Warren Hastings made
-the British empire in India pay. By such means did
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span>
-the aristocrats, of whom the governor was the tool,
-obtain the money which would enable them to live in
-luxury.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The servants of the Company obtained—not for their employers,
-but for themselves—a monopoly of almost the whole internal
-trade; they forced the natives to buy dear and sell cheap; they
-insulted with perfect impunity the tribunals, the police, and the
-fiscal authorities of the country; they covered with their protection
-a set of native dependants, who ranged through the provinces
-spreading desolation and terror wherever they appeared. Every
-servant of a British factor was armed with all the power of his
-master, and his master was armed with all the power of the Company.
-Enormous fortunes were thus rapidly accumulated at
-Calcutta, while thirty millions of human beings were reduced to
-the last extremity of wretchedness. They had been accustomed
-to live under tyranny, but never under tyranny like this; they
-found the little finger of the Company thicker than the loins of
-Surajah Dowlah. Under their old masters they had at least one
-resource; when the evil became insupportable, they rose and
-pulled down the government. But the English government was
-not to be so shaken off. That government, oppressive as the most
-oppressive form of barbarian despotism, was strong with all the
-strength of civilization; it resembled the government of evil genii
-rather than the government of human tyrants." * * *</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The foreign lords of Bengal were naturally objects of hatred
-to all the neighbouring powers, and to all the haughty race presented
-a dauntless front; their armies, everywhere outnumbered,
-were everywhere victorious. A succession of commanders, formed
-in the school of Clive, still maintained the fame of their country.
-'It must be acknowledged,' says the Mussulman historian of those
-times, 'that this nation's presence of mind, firmness of temper,
-and undaunted bravery are past all question. They join the
-most resolute courage to the most cautious prudence; nor have
-they their equal in the art of ranging themselves in battle array
-and fighting in order. If to so many military qualifications they
-knew how to join the arts of government—if they exerted as much
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span>
-ingenuity and solicitude in relieving the people of God as they
-do in whatever concerns their military affairs, no nation in the
-world would be preferable to them or worthier of command; but
-the people under their dominion groan everywhere, and are reduced
-to poverty and distress. O God! come to the assistance
-of thine afflicted servants, and deliver them from the oppressions
-they suffer.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">From the earliest times the "village system," with
-its almost patriarchal regulations, seems to have prevailed
-in Hindostan. Each village had its distinct
-organization, and over a certain number of villages, or
-a district, was an hereditary chief and an accountant,
-both possessing great local influence and authority, and
-certain estates.<a name="FNanchor_106_106" id="FNanchor_106_106"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> The Hindoos were strongly attached
-to their native villages, and could only be forced to
-abandon them by the most constant oppressions. Dynasties
-might change and revolutions occur, but so long
-as each little community remained undisturbed, the
-Hindoos were contented. Mohammedan conquerors left
-this beautiful system, which had much more of genuine
-freedom than the British institutions at the present day,
-untouched. The English conquerors were not so merciful,
-although they were acquainted with Christianity.
-The destruction of local organizations and the centralization
-of authority, which is always attended with the
-increase of slavery,<a name="FNanchor_107_107" id="FNanchor_107_107"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> have been the aims of English
-efforts. The principle that the government is the sole
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span>
-proprietor of the land, and therefore entitled to a large
-share of the produce, has been established, and slavery,
-to escape famine and misery, has become necessary to
-the Hindoos.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Exhaustion was the result of the excessive taxation
-laid upon the Hindoos by the East India Company. As
-the government became stinted for revenue, Lord Cornwallis
-was instructed to make a permanent settlement,
-by means of which all the rights of village proprietors
-over a large portion of Bengal were sacrificed in favour
-of the Zemindars, or head men, who were thus at once
-constituted great landed proprietors—masters of a large
-number of poor tenants, with power to punish at discretion
-those who were not able to pay whatever rent was
-demanded.<a name="FNanchor_108_108" id="FNanchor_108_108"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> From free communities, the villages were
-reduced to the condition of British tenants-at-will. The
-Zemindaree system was first applied to Bengal. In
-Madras another system, called the Ryotwar, was introduced.
-This struck a fatal blow at the local organizations,
-which were the sources of freedom and happiness
-among the Hindoos. Government assumed all the
-functions of an immediate landholder, and dealt with
-the individual cultivators as its own tenants, getting as
-much out of them as possible.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The Zemindars are an unthrifty, rack-renting class,
-and take the uttermost farthing from the under-tenants.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span>
-Oppressions and evictions are their constant employments;
-and since they have been constituted a landed
-aristocracy, they have fully acted out the character in
-the genuine British fashion.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Another tenure, called the Patnee, has been established
-of late years, by some of the great Zemindars, with the
-aid of government enactments, and it is very common in
-Bengal. The great Zemindar, for a consideration, makes
-over a portion of his estate in fee to another, subject to
-a perpetual rent, payable through the collector, who receives
-it on behalf of the zemindar; and if it is not paid,
-the interests of the patneedar are sold by the collector.
-These, again, have sub-patneedars, and the system has
-become very much in vogue in certain districts. The
-parties are like the Irish middlemen, and the last screws
-the tenant to the uttermost.<a name="FNanchor_109_109" id="FNanchor_109_109"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a></p>
-
-<p class="i1">During the British government of Bengal, wealth has
-been accumulated by a certain superior class, and population,
-cultivation, and the receipts from rent of land,
-have largely increased; but, as in England, the mass of
-the people are poor and degraded. In the rich provinces
-of Upper India, where the miserable landed system of
-the conquerors has been introduced, the results have
-been even more deplorable. Communities, once free,
-happy, and possessed of plenty, are now broken up, or
-subjected to such excessive taxation that their members
-are kept in poverty and slavery.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Colonel Sleeman, in his "Rambles and Recollections of
-an Indian Official," records a conversation which he held
-with the head landholder of a village, organized under
-the Zemindar system. During the dialogue, some statements
-were made which are important for our purpose.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The colonel congratulated himself that he had given
-satisfactory replies to the arguments of the Zemindar,
-and accounted naturally for the evils suffered by the
-villagers. The reader will, doubtless, form a different
-opinion:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In the early part of November, after a heavy fall of rain, I
-was driving alone in my buggy from Garmuktesin on the Ganges,
-to Meerut. The roads were very bad, the stage a double one, and
-my horse became tired and unable to go on. I got out at a small
-village to give him a little rest and food; and sat down under the
-shade of one old tree upon the trunk of another that the storm
-had blown down, while my groom, the only servant I had with me,
-rubbed down and baited my horse. I called for some parched
-grain from the same shop which supplied my horse, and got a
-draught of good water, drawn from the well by an old woman, in
-a brass jug lent to me for the purpose by the shopkeeper.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"While I sat contentedly and happily stripping my parched
-grain from its shell, and eating it grain by grain, the farmer, or
-head landholder of the village, a sturdy old Rajpoot, came up and
-sat himself, without any ceremony, down by my side, to have a
-little conversation. [To one of the dignitaries of the land, in whose
-presence the aristocracy are alone considered entitled to chairs,
-this easy familiarity seems at first strange and unaccountable; he is
-afraid that the man intends to offer him some indignity, or what is
-still worse, mistakes him for something less than a dignitary!
-The following dialogue took place:—]</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You are a Rajpoot, and a Zemindar?' (landholder.)</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes; I am the head landholder of this village.'</p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"'Can you tell me how that village in the distance is elevated
-above the ground; is it from the debris of old villages, or from a
-rock underneath?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'It is from the debris of old villages. That is the original seat
-of all the Rajpoots around; we all trace our descent from the
-founders of that village, who built and peopled it many centuries
-ago.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And you have gone on subdividing your inheritances here as
-elsewhere, no doubt, till you have hardly any of you any thing to
-eat?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'True, we have hardly any of us enough to eat; but that is
-the fault of the government, that does not leave us enough—that
-takes from us as much when the season is bad as when it is
-good!'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'But your assessment has not been increased, has it?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No; we have concluded a settlement for twenty years upon
-the same footing as formerly.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And if the sky were to shower down upon you pearls and
-diamonds, instead of water, the government would never demand
-more from you than the rate fixed upon?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">'No.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Then why should you expect remissions in bad seasons?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'It cannot be disputed that the <i>burkut</i> (blessing from above)
-is less under you than it used to be formerly, and that the lands
-yield less from our labour.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'True, my old friend, but do you know the reason why?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Then I will tell you. Forty or fifty years ago, in what you
-call the times of the <i>burkut</i>, (blessing from above,) the cavalry of
-Seikh, free-booters from the Punjab, used to sweep over this fine
-plain, in which stands the said village from which you are all descended;
-and to massacre the whole population of some villages;
-and a certain portion of that of every other village; and the
-lands of those killed used to lie waste for want of cultivators. Is
-not this all true?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, quite true.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And the fine groves which had been planted over this plain
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span>
-by your ancestors, as they separated from the great parent stock,
-and formed independent villages and hamlets for themselves,
-were all swept away and destroyed by the same hordes of free-booters,
-from whom your poor imbecile emperors, cooped up in
-yonder large city of Delhi, were utterly unable to defend you?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Quite true,' said the old man with a sigh. 'I remember
-when all this fine plain was as thickly studded with fine groves
-of mango-trees as Rohilcund, or any other part of India.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You know that the land requires rest from labour, as well as
-men and bullocks; and that if you go on sowing wheat, and other
-exhausting crops, it will go on yielding less and less returns, and
-at last not be worth the tilling?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Quite well.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Then why do you not give the land rest by leaving it longer
-fallow, or by a more frequent alternation of crops relieve it?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Because we have now increased so much, that we should not
-get enough to eat were we to leave it to fallow; and unless we
-tilled it with exhausting crops we should not get the means of paying
-our rents to government.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The Seikh hordes in former days prevented this; they killed
-off a certain portion of your families, and gave the land the <i>rest</i>
-which you now refuse it. When you had exhausted one part, you
-found another recovered by a long fallow, so that you had better
-returns; but now that we neither kill you, nor suffer you to be
-killed by others, you have brought all the cultivable lands into
-tillage; and under the old system of cropping to exhaustion, it
-is not surprising that they yield you less returns.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"By this time we had a crowd of people seated around us upon
-the ground, as I went on munching my parched grain and talking
-to the old patriarch. They all laughed at the old man at the
-conclusion of my last speech, and he confessed I was right.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'This is all true, sir, but still your government is not considerate;
-it goes on taking kingdom after kingdom and adding to
-its dominions, without diminishing the burden upon us its old subjects.
-Here you have had armies away taking Afghanistan, but
-we shall not have one rupee the less to pay.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'True, my friend, nor would you demand a rupee less from
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span>
-those honest cultivators around us, if we were to leave you all
-your lands untaxed. You complain of the government—they
-complain of you. [Here the circle around us laughed at the old
-man again.] Nor would you subdivide the lands the less for
-having it rent free; on the contrary, it would be every generation
-subdivided the more, inasmuch as there would be more of local
-ties, and a greater disinclination on the part of the members of
-families to separate and seek service abroad.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'True, sir, very true; that is, no doubt, a very great evil.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And you know it is not an evil produced by us, but one
-arising out of your own laws of inheritance. You have heard,
-no doubt, that with us the eldest son gets the whole of the land,
-and the younger sons all go out in search of service, with such
-share as they can get of the other property of their father?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Yes, sir; but where shall we get service—you have none to
-give us. I would serve to-morrow, if you would take me as a
-soldier,' said he, stroking his white whiskers.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The crowd laughed heartily, and some wag observed, 'that
-perhaps I should think him too old.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well,' said the old man, smiling, 'the gentleman himself is
-not very young, and yet I dare say he is a good servant of his
-government.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"This was paying me off for making the people laugh at his
-expense. 'True, my old friend,' said I, 'but I began to serve
-when I was young, and have been long learning.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Very well,' said the old man; 'but I should be glad to serve
-the rest of my life upon a less salary than you got when you
-began to learn.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Well, my friend, you complain of our government; but you
-must acknowledge that we do all we can to protect you, though
-it is true that we are often acting in the dark.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Often, sir? you are always acting in the dark; you hardly
-any of you know any thing of what your revenue and police officers
-are doing; there is no justice or redress to be got without
-paying for it; and it is not often that those who pay can get it.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'True, my old friend, that is bad all over the world. You
-cannot presume to ask any thing even from the Deity himself,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span>
-without paying the priest who officiates in his temples; and if
-you should, you would none of you hope to get from your deity
-what you asked for.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Here the crowd laughed again, and one of them said 'that
-there was certainly this to be said for our government, that the
-European gentlemen themselves never took bribes, whatever those
-under them might do.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'You must not be too sure of that neither. Did not the Lal
-Beebee (red lady) get a bribe for soliciting the judge, her husband,
-to let go Ameer Sing, who had been confined in jail?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'How did this take place?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'About three years ago Ameer Sing was sentenced to imprisonment,
-and his friends spent a great deal of money in bribes to
-the native officers of the court, but all in vain. At last they were
-recommended to give a handsome present to the red lady. They
-did so, and Ameer Sing was released.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'But did they give the present into the lady's own hand?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'No, they gave it to one of her women.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'And how do you know that she ever gave it to her mistress,
-or that her mistress ever heard of the transaction?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'She might certainly have been acting without her mistress's
-knowledge; but the popular belief is, that Lal Beebee got the
-present.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"I then told them the story of the affair at Jubbulpore, when
-Mrs. Smith's name had been used for a similar purpose, and the
-people around us were highly amused; and the old man's opinion
-of the transaction evidently underwent a change.<a name="FNanchor_110_110"
-id="FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a></p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"We became good friends, and the old man begged me to have
-my tents, which he supposed were coming up, pitched among
-them, that he might have an opportunity of showing that he was
-not a bad subject, though he grumbled against the government.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The next day, at Meerut, I got a visit from the chief native
-judge, whose son, a talented youth, is in my office. Among other
-things, I asked him whether it might not be possible to improve
-the character of the police by increasing the salaries of the officers,
-and mentioned my conversation with the landholder.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Never, sir,' said the old gentleman; 'the man that now gets
-twenty-five rupees a month, is contented with making perhaps
-fifty or seventy-five more; and the people subject to his authority
-pay him accordingly. Give him a hundred, sir, and he will put
-a shawl over his shoulders, and the poor people will be obliged
-to pay him at a rate which will make up his income to four hundred.
-You will only alter his style of living, and make him a
-greater burden to the people; he will always take as long as he
-thinks he can with impunity.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'But do you not think that when people see a man adequately
-paid by government, they will the more readily complain at any
-attempt at unauthorized exactions?'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Not a bit, sir, as long as they see the same difficulties in the
-way of prosecuting them to conviction. In the administration
-of civil justice (the old gentleman is a civil judge) you may occasionally
-see your way, and understand what is doing; but in
-revenue and police you have never seen it in India, and never
-will, I think. The officers you employ will all add to their incomes
-by unauthorized means; and the lower their incomes, the
-less their pretensions, and the less the populace have to pay.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">In the "History of the Possessions of the Honourable
-East India Company," by R. Montgomery Martin, F. S.
-S., the following statements occur:
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span>—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The following estimate has been made of the population of the
-allied and independent states:—Hydrabad, 10,000,000; Oude,
-6,000,000; Nagpoor, 3,000,000; Mysore, 3,000,000; Sattara,
-1,500,000; Gurckwar, 2,000,000; Travancore and Cochin, 1,000,000;
-Rajpootana, and various minor principalities, 16,500,000; Sciudias
-territories, 4,000,000; the Seiks, 3,000,000; Nepál, 2,000,000;
-Cashmere, etc., 1,000,000; Scinde, 1,000,000; total, 51,000,000.
-This, of course, is but a rough estimate by Hamilton, (Slavery in
-British India.) For the last forty years the East India Company's
-government have been gradually, but safely, abolishing slavery
-throughout their dominions; they began in 1789 with putting
-down the maritime traffic, by prosecuting any person caught in
-exporting or importing slaves by sea, long before the British government
-abolished that infernal commerce in the Western world,
-and they have ever since sedulously sought the final extinction of
-that domestic servitude which had long existed throughout the
-East, as recognised by the Hindoo and Mohammedan law. In
-their despatches of 1798, it was termed '<i>an inhuman commerce
-and cruel traffic</i>.' French, Dutch, or Danish subjects captured
-within the limit of their dominions in the act of purchasing or
-conveying slaves were imprisoned and heavily fined, and every
-encouragement was given to their civil and military servants to
-aid in protecting the first rights of humanity.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Mr. Robertson,<a name="FNanchor_111_111" id="FNanchor_111_111"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a>
-in reference to Cawnpore, observes:—'Domestic
-slavery exists; but of an agricultural slave I do not recollect
-a single instance. When I speak of <i>domestic</i> slavery, I mean
-that <i>status</i> which I must call slavery for want of any more accurate
-designation. It does not, however, resemble that which is
-understood in Europe to be slavery; it is the mildest species of
-servitude. The domestic slaves are certain persons purchased in
-times of scarcity; children purchased from their parents; they
-grow up in the family, and are almost entirely employed in domestic
-offices in the house; not liable to be resold.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'There is a certain species of slavery in South Bahar, where
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span>
-a man mortgages his labour for a certain sum of money; and this
-species of slavery exists also in Arracan and Ava. It is for his
-life, or until he shall pay the sum, that he is obliged to labour for
-the person who lends him the money; and if he can repay the
-sum, he emancipates himself.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'Masters have no power of punishment recognised by our
-laws. Whatever may be the provision of the Mohammedan or Hindoo
-codes to that effect, it is a dead letter, for we would not recognise
-it. The master doubtless may sometimes inflict domestic
-punishment; but if he does, the slave rarely thinks of complaining
-of it. Were he to do so his complaint would be received.'
-This, in fact, is the palladium of liberty in England.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In Malabar, according to the evidence of Mr. Baber, slavery,
-as mentioned by Mr. Robertson, also exists, and perhaps the same
-is the case in Guzerat and to the north; but the wonder is, not
-that such is the case, but that it is so partial in extent, and fortunately
-so bad in character, approximating indeed so much toward
-the feudal state as to be almost beyond the reach as well as the
-necessity of laws which at present would be practically inoperative.
-The fact, that of 100,000,000 British inhabitants, [or allowing
-five to a family, 20,000,000 families,] upward of 16,000,000
-are landed proprietors, shows to what a confined extent even domestic
-slavery exists. A commission has been appointed by the
-new charter to inquire into this important but delicate subject.'"</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">We have quoted this passage from a writer who is a
-determined advocate of every thing <i>British</i>, whether it
-be good or had, in order to show by his own admission
-that chattel slavery, that is the precise form of slavery
-of which the British express such a holy horror, exists
-in British India under the sanction of British laws.
-Nor does it exist to a small extent only, as he would
-have us believe. It has always existed there, and must
-necessarily be on the increase, from the very cause
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span>
-which he points out, viz. famine. No country in the
-world, thanks to British oppression, is so frequently
-and so extensively visited by famine as India; and as
-the natives can escape in many instances from starving
-to death by selling themselves, and can save their children
-by selling them into slavery, we can readily form
-an estimate of the great extent to which this takes
-place in cases of famine, where the people are perishing
-by thousands and tens of thousands. As to the
-statement that the government of the East India Company
-have been endeavouring to abolish this species of
-slavery, it proves any thing rather than a desire to
-benefit the natives of India. Chattel slaves are not
-desired by British subjects because the ownership of
-them involves the necessity of supporting them in sickness
-and old age. The kind of slavery which the
-British have imposed on the great mass of their East
-Indian subjects is infinitely more oppressive and inhuman
-than chattel slavery. Indeed it would not at all
-suit the views of the British aristocracy to have chattel
-slavery become so fashionable in India as to interfere
-with their own cherished system of political slavery,
-which is so extensively and successfully practised in
-England, Scotland, Ireland, and the West and East
-Indies. The money required for the support of chattel
-slaves could not be spared by the aristocratic governments
-in the colonies. The object is to take the fruits
-of the labourer's toil without providing for him at all.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span>
-When labourers are part of a master's capital, the
-better he provides for them the more they are worth.
-When they are not property, the character of their subsistence
-is of no importance; but they must yield the
-greater part of the results of their toil.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The "salt laws" of India are outrageously oppressive.
-An account of their operation will give the
-reader a taste of the character of the legislation to
-which the British have subjected conquered Hindoos.
-Such an account we find in a recent number of
-"Household Words," which Lord Shaftesbury and his
-associates in luxury and philanthropy should read more
-frequently than we can suppose they do:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Salt, in India, is a government monopoly. It is partially imported,
-and partially manufactured in government factories.
-These factories are situated in dreary marshes—the workers obtaining
-certain equivocal privileges, on condition of following
-their occupation in these pestiferous regions, where hundreds of
-these wretched people fall, annually, victims to the plague or the
-floods.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The salt consumed in India must be purchased through the
-government, at a duty of upward of two pounds per ton, making
-the price to the consumer about eight pence per pound. In England,
-salt may be purchased by retail, three pounds, or wholesale,
-five pounds for one penny; while in India, upward of thirty
-millions of persons, whose average incomes do not amount to
-above three shillings per week, are compelled to expend one-fourth
-of that pittance in salt for themselves and families.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It may naturally be inferred, that, with such a heavy duty
-upon this important necessary of life, that underhand measures
-are adopted by the poor natives for supplying themselves. We
-shall see, however, by the following severe regulations, that the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span>
-experiment is too hazardous to be often attempted. Throughout
-the whole country there are numerous 'salt chokies,' or police
-stations, the superintendents of which are invested with powers
-of startling and extraordinary magnitude.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"When information is lodged with such superintendent that
-salt is stored in any place without a '<i>ruwana</i>,' or permit, he proceeds
-to collect particulars of the description of the article, the
-quantity stated to be stored, and the name of the owner of the
-store. If the quantity stated to be stored exceeds seventy
-pounds, he proceeds with a body of police to make the seizure.
-If the door is not opened to him at once, he is invested with full
-power to break it open; and if the police-officers exhibit the least
-backwardness in assisting, or show any sympathy with the unfortunate
-owner, they are liable to be heavily fined. The owner
-of the salt, with all persons found upon the premises, are immediately
-apprehended, and are liable to six months' imprisonment
-for the first offence, twelve for the second, and eighteen
-months for the third; so that if a poor Indian was to see a shower
-of salt in his garden, (there <i>are</i> showers of salt sometimes,) and
-to attempt to take advantage of it without paying duty, he would
-become liable to this heavy punishment. The superintendent of
-police is also empowered to detain and search trading vessels,
-and if salt be found on board without a permit, the whole of the
-crew may be apprehended and tried for the offence. Any person
-erecting a distilling apparatus in his own house, merely to distil
-enough sea-water for the use of his household, is liable to such a
-fine as may ruin him. In this case, direct proof is not required,
-but inferred from circumstances at the discretion of the judge.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"If a person wishes to erect a factory upon his own estate, he
-must first give notice to the collector of revenue of all the particulars
-relative thereto, failing which, the collector may order
-all the works to be destroyed. Having given notice, officers are
-immediately quartered upon the premises, who have access to all
-parts thereof, for fear the company should be defrauded of the
-smallest amount of duty. When duty <i>is</i> paid upon any portion,
-the collector, upon giving a receipt, specifies the name and residence
-of the person to whom it is to be delivered, to whom it
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span>
-<i>must</i> be delivered within a stated period, or become liable to
-fresh duty. To wind up, and make assurance doubly sure, the
-police may seize and detain any load or package which may pass
-the stations, till they are satisfied such load or package does not
-contain contraband salt.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Such are the salt laws of India; such the monopoly by which
-a revenue of three millions sterling is raised; and such the system
-which, in these days of progress and improvement, acts as an
-incubus upon the energies, the mental resources, and social advancement
-of the immense population of India.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Political economists of all shades of opinion—men who have
-well studied the subject—deliberately assert that nothing would
-tend so much toward the improvement of that country, and to a
-more complete development of its vast natural resources, than
-the abolition of these laws; and we can only hope, without
-blaming any one, that at no distant day a more enlightened
-policy will pervade the councils of the East India Company, and
-that the poor Hindoo will be emancipated from the thraldom of
-these odious enactments.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But apart from every other consideration, there is one, in
-connection with the Indian salt-tax, which touches the domestic
-happiness and vital interest of every inhabitant in Great Britain.
-It is decided, by incontrovertible medical testimony, that cholera
-(whose ravages every individual among us knows something,
-alas! too well about) is in a great measure engendered, and its
-progress facilitated, by the prohibitory duties on salt in India,
-the very cradle of the pestilence. Our precautionary measures
-to turn aside the plague from our doors, appear to be somewhat
-ridiculous, while the plague itself is suffered to exist, when it
-might be destroyed—its existence being tolerated only to administer
-to the pecuniary advantage of a certain small class of the
-community. Let the medical men of this country look to it.
-Let the people of this country generally look to it; for there is
-matter for grave and solemn consideration, both nationally and
-individually, in the Indian salt-tax."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Yes, the salt-tax is very oppressive; but it <i>pays</i>
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span>
-those who authorized its assessment, and that is
-sufficient for them. When they discover some means
-of obtaining its equivalent—some oppression quite as
-cruel but not so obvious—we may expect to hear of
-the abolition of the odious salt monopoly.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Famines (always frightfully destructive in India)
-have become more numerous than ever, under the
-blighting rule of the British aristocrats. Vast tracts
-of country, once the support of busy thousands, have
-been depopulated by these dreadful visitations.</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The soil seems to lie under a curse. Instead of yielding
-abundance for the wants of its own population and the inhabitants
-of other regions, it does not keep in existence its own children.
-It becomes the burying-place of millions who die upon its
-bosom crying for bread. In proof of this, turn your eyes backward
-upon the scenes of the past year. Go with me into the
-North-west provinces of the Bengal presidency, and I will show
-you the bleaching skeletons of five hundred thousand human
-beings, who perished of hunger in the space of a few short
-months. Yes, died of hunger, in what has been justly called the
-granary of the world. Bear with me, if I speak of the scenes
-which were exhibited during the prevalence of this famine. The
-air for miles was poisoned by the effluvia emitted from the putrefying
-bodies of the dead. The rivers were choked with the
-corpses thrown into their channels. Mothers cast their little ones
-beneath the rolling waves, because they would not see them draw
-their last gasp and feel them stiffen in their arms. The English
-in the cities were prevented from taking their customary evening
-drives. Jackals and vultures approached, and fastened upon the
-bodies of men, women, and children before life was extinct.
-Madness, disease, despair stalked abroad, and no human power
-present to arrest their progress. It was the carnival of death.
-And this occurred in British India—in the reign of Victoria the
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span>
-First. Nor was the event extraordinary and unforeseen. Far
-from it: 1835-36 witnessed a famine in the Northern provinces;
-1833 beheld one to the eastward; 1822-23 saw one in the
-Deccan."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The above extract from one of George Thompson's
-"Lectures on India," conveys an idea of the horrors
-of a famine in that country. What then must be the
-guilt of that government that adopts such measures as
-tend to increase the frequency and swell the horror of
-these scenes! By draining the resources of the people,
-and dooming them to the most pinching poverty, the
-British conquerors have greatly increased the dangers
-of the visitations of famine, and opened to it a wide field
-for destruction. The poor Hindoos may be said to live
-face to face with starvation. The following account of
-the famine of 1833 is given by Colonel Sleeman, in
-his "Rambles and Recollections:"—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"During the famine of 1833, as on all similar occasions, grain
-of every kind, attracted by high prices, flowed up in large streams
-from this favoured province (Malwa) toward Bundelcund; and
-the population of Bundelcund, as usual in such times of dearth and
-scarcity, flowed off toward Malwa against the stream of supply,
-under the assurance that the nearer they got to the source the
-greater would be their chance of employment and subsistence.
-Every village had its numbers of the dead and the dying; and the
-roads were all strewed with them; but they were mostly concentrated
-upon the great towns, and civil and military stations, where
-subscriptions were open for their support by both the European
-and native communities. The funds arising from these subscriptions
-lasted till the rain had fairly set in, when all able-bodied
-persons could easily find employment in tillage among the agricultural
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span>
-communities of the villages around. After the rains have
-fairly set in, the <i>sick</i> and <i>helpless</i> only should be kept concentrated
-upon large towns and stations, where little or no employment is
-to be found; for the oldest and youngest of those who are able to
-work can then easily find employment in weeding the cotton, rice,
-sugar-cane, and other fields under autumn crops, and in preparing
-the land for the reception of the wheat, grain, and other spring
-seeds; and get advances from the farmers, agricultural capitalists,
-and other members of the village communities, who are all glad to
-share their superfluities with the distressed, and to pay liberally
-for the little service they are able to give in return.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"At large places, where the greater numbers are concentrated,
-the scene becomes exceedingly distressing, for in spite of the best
-dispositions and greatest efforts on the part of government and its
-officers, and the European and native communities, thousands
-commonly die of starvation. At Saugor, mothers, as they lay in
-the streets unable to walk, were seen holding up their infants, and
-imploring the passing stranger to take them in slavery, that they
-might at least live—hundreds were seen creeping into gardens,
-courtyards, and old ruins, concealing themselves under shrubs,
-grass, mats, or straw, where they might die quietly, without having
-their bodies torn by birds and beasts before the breath had left
-them! Respectable families, who left home in search of the
-favoured land of Malwa, while yet a little property remained,
-finding all exhausted, took opium rather than beg, and husband,
-wife, and children died in each other's arms! Still more of such
-families lingered on in hope until all had been expended; then
-shut their doors, took poison, and died all together, rather than expose
-their misery, and submit to the degradation of begging. All
-these things I have myself known and seen; and in the midst of
-these and a hundred other harrowing scenes which present themselves
-on such occasions, the European cannot fail to remark the
-patient resignation with which the poor people submit to their fate;
-and the absence of almost all those revolting acts which have
-characterized the famines of which he has read in other countries—such
-as the living feeding on the dead, and mothers devouring their
-own children. No such things are witnessed in Indian famines;
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span>
-here all who suffer attribute the disaster to its real cause, the want
-of rain in due season; and indulge in no feelings of hatred against
-their rulers, superiors, or more fortunate equals in society, who
-happen to live beyond the influence of such calamities. They
-gratefully receive the superfluities which the more favoured are
-always found ready to share with the afflicted in India; and
-though their sufferings often subdue the strongest of all pride—the
-pride of caste, they rarely ever drive people to acts of violence.
-The stream of emigration, guided as it always is by that of the
-agricultural produce flowing in from the more favoured countries,
-must necessarily concentrate upon the communities along the line
-it takes a greater number of people than they have the means of
-relieving, however benevolent their dispositions; and I must say,
-that I have never either seen or read of a nobler spirit than seems
-to animate all classes of these communities in India on such distressing
-occasions."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The same writer has some judicious general remarks
-upon the causes of famine in India, which are worthy
-of quotation. We have only to add, that whatever
-may be found in the climate and character of the
-country that expose the people to the frequency of
-want, the conquerors have done their best to aggravate
-natural evils:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In India, unfavourable seasons produce much more disastrous
-consequences than in Europe. In England, not more than one-fourth
-of the population derive their incomes from the cultivation
-of the land around them. Three-fourths of the people have incomes,
-independent of the annual returns from those lands; and with
-these incomes they can purchase agricultural produce from other
-lands when the crops upon them fail. The farmers, who form so
-large a portion of the fourth class, have stock equal in value to
-<i>four times the amount of the annual rent of their lands</i>. They have
-also a great variety of crops; and it is very rare that more than
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span>
-one or two of them fail, or are considerably affected, the same
-season. If they fail in one district or province, the deficiency is
-very easily supplied to people who have equivalents to give for
-the produce of another. The sea, navigable rivers, fine roads, all
-are open and ready at all times for the transport of the super-abundance
-of one quarter to supply the deficiencies of another.
-In India the reverse of all this is unhappily everywhere to be
-found; more than three-fourths of the whole population are engaged
-in the cultivation of the land, and depend upon its annual
-returns for subsistence. The farmers and cultivators have none
-of them stock equal in value to more than <i>half the amount of the
-annual rents of their lands</i>. They have a great variety of crops;
-but all are exposed to the same accidents, and commonly fail at
-the same time. The autumn crops are sown in June and July,
-and ripen in October and November; and if seasonable showers
-do not fall in July, August, and September, all fail. The spring
-crops are sown in October and November, and ripen in March;
-and if seasonable showers do not happen to fall during December
-or January, all, save what are artificially irrigated, fail. If they
-fail in one district or province, the people have few equivalents to
-offer for a supply of land produce from any other. Their roads
-are scarcely anywhere passable for wheeled carriages at <i>any season</i>,
-and nowhere <i>at all seasons</i>—they have nowhere a navigable
-canal, and only in one line a navigable river. Their land produce
-is conveyed upon the backs of bullocks, that move at the rate of
-six or eight miles a day, and add one hundred per cent. to the
-cost for every hundred miles they carry it in the best seasons, and
-more than two hundred in the worst. What in Europe is felt
-merely as a <i>dearth</i>, becomes in India, under all these disadvantages,
-a <i>scarcity</i>; and what is there a <i>scarcity</i> becomes here a
-famine."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Another illustration of the truth that poverty is the
-source of crime and depravity is found in India. Statistics
-and the evidence of recent travellers show that
-the amount of vice in the different provinces is just in
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span>
-proportion to the length of time they have been under
-British rule. No stronger proof of the iniquity of the
-government—of its poisonous tendencies as well as
-positive injustice—could be adduced.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The cultivation and exportation of the pernicious
-drug, opium, which destroys hundreds of thousands of
-lives annually, have latterly been prominent objects of
-the East Indian government. The best tracts of land
-in India were chosen for the cultivation of the poppy.
-The people were told that they must either raise this
-plant, make opium, or give up their land. Furthermore,
-those who produced the drug were compelled to
-sell it to the Company. In the Bengal Presidency, the
-monopoly of the government is complete. It has its
-establishment for the manufacture of the drug. There
-are two great agencies at Ghazeepore and Patna, for
-the Benares and Bahar provinces. Each opium agent
-has several deputies in different districts, and a native
-establishment. They enter into contracts with the cultivator
-for the supply of opium at a rate fixed to suit
-the demand. The land-revenue authorities do not interfere,
-except to prevent cultivation without permission.
-The land cultivated is measured, and all the
-produce must be sold to the government. At the head
-agency the opium is packed in chests and sealed with
-the Company's seal.<a name="FNanchor_112_112" id="FNanchor_112_112"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">The imperial government of China, seeing that the
-traffic in opium was sowing misery and death among its
-subjects, prohibited the introduction of the drug within
-the empire in 1839. But the British had a vast amount
-of capital at stake, and the profits of the trade were too
-great to be relinquished for any considerations of humanity.
-War was declared; thousands of Chinese were
-slaughtered, and the imperial government forced to
-permit the destructive traffic on a more extensive scale
-than ever, and to pay $2,000,000 besides for daring to
-protest against it!</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The annual revenue now realized from the opium
-traffic amounts to £3,500,000. It is estimated that
-about 400,000 Chinese perish every year in consequence
-of using the destructive drug, while the amount
-of individual and social misery proceeding from the
-same cause is appalling to every humane heart. Among
-the people of India who have been forced into the cultivation
-and manufacture of opium, the use of it has
-greatly increased under the fostering care of the government.
-The Company seems to be aware that a people
-enervated by excessive indulgence will make little effort
-to throw off the chains of slavery. Keep the Hindoo
-drunk with opium and he will not rebel.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The effects of this drug upon the consumer are thus
-described by a distinguished Chinese scholar:—"It
-exhausts the animal spirits, impedes the regular performance
-of business, wastes the flesh and blood,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span>
-dissipates every kind of property, renders the person
-ill-favoured, promotes obscenity, discloses secrets, violates
-the laws, attacks the vitals, and destroys life."
-This statement is confirmed by other natives, and also
-by foreign residents; and it is asserted that, as a
-general rule, a person does not live more than ten years
-after becoming addicted to the use of this drug.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The recent Burmese war had for one of its objects
-the opening of a road to the interior of China, for the
-purpose of extending the opium trade. And for such
-an object thousands of brave Burmese were slaughtered,
-fertile and beautiful regions desolated, and others subjected
-to the peculiar slave-system of the East India
-Company. The extension of British dominion and the
-accumulation of wealth in British hands, instead of the
-spread of Christianity and the development of civilization,
-mark all the measures of the Company.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">William Howitt, one of the ablest as well as the most
-democratic writers of England, thus confirms the statements
-made above:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The East India Company exists by monopolies of the land, of
-opium, and of salt. By their narrow, greedy, and purblind management
-of these resources, they have contrived to reduce that
-once affluent country to the uttermost depths of poverty and
-pauperism. The people starve and perish in famine every now
-and then by half a million at a time. One-third of that superb
-peninsula is reduced to waste and jungle. While other colonies
-pay from twenty to thirty shillings per head of revenue, India
-yields only four shillings per head. The income of the government
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span>
-at the last renewal of the charter was <i>twenty millions</i>; it is
-now reduced to about <i>seventeen millions</i>; and even to raise this,
-they have been obliged to double the tax on salt. The debt was
-<i>forty millions</i>; it is now said to be augmented by constant war,
-and the payment of the dividends, which, whatever the real proceeds,
-are always kept up to the usual height, to <i>seventy millions</i>.
-This is a state of things which cannot last. It is a grand march
-toward financial inanition. It threatens, if not arrested by the
-voice of the British people, the certain and no very distant loss
-of India.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"We have some glimpses of the treatment of the people in the
-collection of the land-tax, as it is called, but really the rent. The
-government claims not the mere right of governing, but, as conquerors,
-the fee-simple of the land. Over the greater part of
-India there are no real freeholders. The land is the Company's,
-and they collect, not a tax, but a rent. They have their collectors
-all over India, who go and say as the crops stand, 'We shall take
-so much of this.' It is seldom less than one-half—it is more commonly
-sixty, seventy, and eighty per cent! This is killing the
-goose to come at the golden egg. It drives the people to despair;
-they run away and leave the land to become jungle; they perish
-by famine in thousands and tens of thousands.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"This is why no capitalists dare to settle and grow for us
-cotton, or manufacture for us sugar. There is no security—no
-fixity of taxation. It is one wholesale system of arbitrary plunder,
-such as none but a conquered country in the first violence of
-victorious license ever was subjected to. But this system has
-here continued more than a generation; the country is reduced
-by it to a fatal condition—the only wonder is that we yet retain
-it at all.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The same system is pursued in the opium monopoly. The finest
-lands are taken for the cultivation of the poppy; the government
-give the natives what they please for the opium, often about as
-many shillings as they get paid for it guineas per pound, and
-ship it off to curse China with it. 'In India,' says a writer in
-the Chinese Repository, 'the extent of territory occupied with the
-poppy, and the amount of population engaged in its cultivation
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span>
-and the preparation of opium, are far greater than in any other
-part of the world.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Turkey is said to produce only 2000 chests of opium annually;
-India produces 40,000 of 134 lbs. each, and yielding a revenue of
-about £4,000,000 sterling.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"But perhaps worse than all is the salt monopoly. It is well
-known that the people of India are a vegetable diet people. Boiled
-rice is their chief food, and salt is an absolute necessary of life.
-With a vegetable diet in that hot climate, without plenty of salt,
-putrid diseases and rapid mortality are inevitable. Nature, or
-Providence, has therefore given salt in abundance. The sea
-throws it up already crystallized in many places; in others it is
-prepared by evaporation; but the Company steps in and imposes
-<i>two hundred per cent.</i> on this indispensable article, and guards it
-by such penalties that the native dare not stoop to gather it when
-it lies at his feet. The consequence is that mortality prevails, to
-a terrific extent often, among the population. Officers of government
-are employed to destroy the salt naturally formed; and
-government determines how much salt shall be annually consumed.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Now, let the people of England mark one thing. <i>The cholera
-originates in the East.</i> It has visited us once, and is on its march
-once more toward us. We have heard through the newspapers
-of its arrival in Syria, in Turkey, in Russia, at Vienna. In a few
-months it will probably be again among us.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"<i>Has any one yet imagined that this scourge may possibly be the
-instrument of Divine retribution for our crimes and cruelties?</i> Has
-any one imagined that we have any thing to do with the creation
-of this terrible pestilence? Yet there is little, there is scarcely
-the least doubt, that this awful instrument of death is occasioned
-by this very monopoly of salt—that it is the direct work of the
-four-and-twenty men in Leadenhall-street. The cholera is found
-to arise in the very centre of India. It commences in the midst
-of this swarming population, which subsists on vegetables, and
-which is deprived by the British government of the necessary
-salt! In that hot climate it acquires a deadly strength—thousands
-perish by it as by the stroke of lightning, and it hence
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span>
-radiates over the globe, travelling at the speed of a horse in full
-gallop. Thus it is that God visits our deeds upon our heads.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Such is a brief glance at the mal-administration, the abuse, and
-the murderous treatment of India, permitted by great and Christian
-England to a knot of mere money-making traders. We commit
-the lives and happiness of one hundred and fifty millions of souls—the
-well-being, and probably the chance of retention, of one of the
-finest countries in the world, and the comfort and prosperity of
-every human creature in Great Britain, to the hands of those who
-are only, from day to day, grasping at the vitals of this glorious
-Eastern region to increase their dividends. This is bad enough,
-but this is not all. As if we had given them a charter in the most
-effectual manner to damage our dominions and blast all our prospects
-of trade, we have allowed these four-and-twenty men of
-Leadenhall-street not only to cripple India, but to exasperate
-and, as far as possible, close China against us. Two millions of
-people in India and three millions of people in China—all waiting
-for our manufactures, all capable of sending us the comforts
-and necessaries that we need—it would seem that to us, a nation
-especially devoted to trade, as if Providence had opened all the gorgeous
-and populous East to employ and to enrich us. One would
-have thought that every care and anxiety would have been aroused
-to put ourselves on the best footing with this swarming region.
-It has been the last thing thought of.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The men of Leadenhall-street have been permitted, after having
-paralyzed India, to send to China not the articles that the Chinese
-wanted, but the very thing of all others that its authorities abhorred—that
-is, opium.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It is well known with what assiduity these traders for years
-thrust this deadly drug into the ports of China; or it may be
-known from 'Medhurst's China,' from 'Thelwall's Iniquities
-of the Opium Trade,' from 'Montgomery Martin's Opium in
-China,' and various other works. It is well known what horrors,
-crimes, ruin of families, and destruction of individuals the rage
-of opium-smoking introduced among the millions of the Celestial
-Empire. Every horror, every species of reckless desperation,
-social depravity, and sensual crime, spread from the practice and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span>
-overran China as a plague. The rulers attempted to stop the evil
-by every means in their power. They enacted the severest
-punishments for the sale of it. These did not avail. They augmented
-the punishment to death. Without a stop to it the whole
-framework of society threatened to go to pieces. 'Opium,' says
-the Imperial edict itself, 'coming from the distant regions of barbarians,
-has pervaded the country with its baneful influence.' The
-opium-smoker would steal, sell his property, his children, the
-mother of his children, and finally commit murder for it. The
-most ghastly spectacles were everywhere seen; instead of healthy
-and happy men, the most repulsive scenes. 'I visited one of the
-opium-houses,' said an individual quoted by Sir Robert Inglis, in
-the House of Commons, in 1843, 'and shall I tell you what I saw
-in this antechamber of hell? I thought it impossible to find anything
-worse than the results of drinking ardent spirits; but I have
-succeeded in finding something far worse. I saw Malays, Chinese,
-men and women, old and young, in one mass, in one common
-herd, wallowing in their filth, beastly, sensual, devilish, and this
-under the eyes of a Christian government.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"They were these abominations and horrors that the Emperor
-of China determined to arrest. They were these which our East
-India Company determined to perpetuate for this base gain.
-When the emperor was asked to license the sale of opium, as he
-could not effect its exclusion, and thus make a profit of it, what was
-his reply? '<i>It is true I cannot prevent the introduction of the flowing
-poison. Gain-seeking and corrupt men will, for profit and sensuality,
-defeat my wishes, but nothing will induce me to derive a
-benefit from the vice and misery of my people.</i>'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"These were the sentiments of the Chinese monarch; what was
-the conduct of the so-called Christian Englishmen? They determined
-to go on poisoning and demoralizing China, till they provoked
-the government to war, and then massacred the people to
-compel the continuance of the sale of opium."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">Howitt evidently has as ardent a sympathy for those
-who have suffered from the tyranny of British rule as
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span>
-Edmund Burke himself. The wholesale degradation of
-the Hindoos, which has resulted from the measures
-of the East India Company, calls loudly indeed for the
-denunciations of indignant humanity. The crime must
-have its punishment. The ill-gotten gains of the Company
-should be seized to carry out an ameliorating
-policy, and all concerned in enforcing the system of
-oppression should be taught that justice is not to be
-wounded with impunity.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The burdens imposed upon the Hindoos are precisely
-of the character and extent of those that have reduced
-Ireland to poverty and her people to slavery. Besides
-the enormous rents, which are sufficient of themselves
-to dishearten the tillers of the soil, the British authorities
-seem to have exhausted invention in devising taxes.
-So dear a price to live was never paid by any people
-except the Irish. What remains to the cultivator when
-the rent of the land and almost forty different taxes
-are paid?</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Those Hindoos who wish to employ capital or labour
-in any other way than in cultivation of land are deterred
-by the formidable array of taxation. The chief taxes
-are styled the Veesabuddy, or tax on merchants,
-traders, and shopkeepers; the Mohturfa, or tax on
-weavers, carpenters, stonecutters, and other mechanical
-trades; and the Bazeebab, consisting of smaller taxes
-annually rented out to the highest bidder. The proprietor
-of the Bazeebab is thus constituted a petty chieftain,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span>
-with power to exact fees at marriages and religious
-ceremonies; to inquire into and fine the misconduct of
-females in families, and other misdemeanours—in fact,
-petty tyrants, who can at all times allege engagements
-to the government to justify extortion.<a name="FNanchor_113_113" id="FNanchor_113_113"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> These proprietors
-are the worst kind of slaveholders.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The mode of settling the Mohturfa on looms is remarkable
-for the precision of its exaction. Every
-circumstance of the weaver's family is considered; the
-number of days which he devotes to his loom, the number
-of his children, the assistance which he receives
-from them, and the number and quality of the pieces
-which he can produce in a year; so that, let him exert
-himself as he will, his industry will always be taxed to
-the highest degree.<a name="FNanchor_114_114" id="FNanchor_114_114"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> This method is so detailed that
-the servants of the government cannot enter into it, and
-the assessment of the tax is therefore left to the heads
-of the villages. It is impossible for a weaver to know
-what he is to pay to the government for being allowed
-to carry on his business till the yearly demand is made.
-If he has worked hard, and turned out one or two pieces
-of cloth more than he did the year before, his tax is increased.
-The more industrious he is the more he is
-forced to pay.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The tax-gatherers are thorough inquisitors. According
-to Rikards, upward of seventy different kinds of
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span>
-buildings—the houses, shops, or warehouses of different
-castes and professions—were ordered to be entered into
-the survey accounts; besides the following implements
-of professions, which were usually assessed to the public
-revenue, viz.: "Oil-mills, iron manufactory, toddy-drawer's
-stills, potter's kiln, washerman's stone, goldsmith's
-tools, sawyer's saw, toddy-drawer's knives,
-fishing-nets, barber's hones, blacksmith's anvils, pack-bullocks,
-cocoa-nut safe, small fishing-boats, cotton-beater's
-bow, carpenter's tools, large fishing-boats,
-looms, salt-storehouses. If a landlord objects to the
-assessment on trees, as old and past bearing, they are,
-one and all, ordered to be cut down—a measure as ridiculous
-as unjust—as it not only inflicts injury upon
-the landlord, but takes away the chance of future profit
-for the government. Mr. Rikards bears witness, as a
-collector of Malabar, that lands and produce were
-sometimes inserted in the survey account which absolutely
-did not exist, while other lands were assessed to
-the revenue at more than their actual produce. From
-all this, it is obvious that the Hindoo labourer or artisan
-is the slave of the tax-collector, who, moreover, has
-no interest in the life of his victim.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Labour being almost "dirt cheap" in India, whenever
-speculating companies of Englishmen wish to carry out
-any particular scheme for which labourers are required,
-they hire a number of Hindoo Coolies, induce them to
-visit any port of the country, and treat them abominably,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span>
-knowing that the poor wretches have no protection.
-The operations of the Assam Tea Company
-illustrate this practice:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"An inconsiderate expenditure of capital placed the Assam Tea
-Company in great jeopardy, and at one time it was feared the
-scheme would be abandoned. The number of managers and assistants
-appointed by the Assam Company to carry on their affairs
-and superintend their tea gardens, on large salaries, was quite
-unnecessary; one or two experienced European superintendents
-to direct the native establishment would have answered every purpose.
-A vast number of Coolies (or labourers) were induced to
-proceed to Upper Assam to cultivate the gardens; but bad arrangements
-having been made to supply them with proper, wholesome
-food, many were seized with sickness. On their arrival at
-the tea-plantations, in the midst of high and dense tree jungle,
-numbers absconded, and others met an untimely end. The rice
-served out to the Coolies from the Assam Tea Company's store-rooms,
-was so bad as not to be fit to be given to elephants, much
-less to human beings. The loss of these labourers, who had been
-conveyed to Upper Assam at a great expense, deprived the company
-of the means of cultivating so great an extent of country as
-would otherwise have been insured; for the scanty population of
-Upper Assam offered no means of replacing the deficiency of
-hands. Nor was the improvidence of the company in respect to
-labourers the only instance of their mismanagement. Although
-the company must have known that they had no real use or necessity
-for a steamer, a huge vessel was nevertheless purchased, and
-frequently sent up and down the Burrampooter river from Calcutta;
-carrying little else than a few thousand rupees for the
-payment of their establishment in Upper Assam, which might
-have been transmitted through native bankers, and have saved
-the company a most lavish and unprofitable expenditure of
-capital."<a name="FNanchor_115_115" id="FNanchor_115_115"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a></p></div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Ay, and the expense is all that is thought worthy of
-consideration. The miserable victims to the measures
-of the company might perish like brutes without being
-even pitied.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">On the verge of starvation, as so many of the Hindoo
-labourers generally are, it does not excite surprise that
-they are very ready to listen to the offers of those who
-are engaged in the "Cooley slave-trade." In addition
-to the astounding facts given by us in the previous chapter,
-in regard to this traffic in men, we quote the following
-from the London Spectator of October, 1838:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"Under Lord Glenelg's patronage, the Eastern slave-trade prospers
-exceedingly. The traffic in Hill Coolies promises to become
-one of the most extensive under the British flag. A cargo arrived
-in Berbice about the beginning of May, in prime condition: and
-the Berbice Advertiser, one of the most respectable of the West
-India journals, states, that out of 289, conveyed in the Whitby,
-only eight died on the passage, and very few were ill. Only one
-circumstance was wanting to make them the happiest of human(?)
-beings—only eight women were sent as companions for the 280
-men; and the deficiency of females was the more to be regretted
-because it was 'probable they would be shunned by the negroes
-from jealousy and speaking a different language.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"The same newspaper contains a very curious document respecting
-the Hill Cooley traffic. It is a circular letter, dated the
-8th January, 1838, from Henley, Dowson, and Bethel, of Calcutta,
-the agents most extensively engaged in the shipment of labourers
-from India to the Mauritius and British Guiana. These gentlemen
-thus state their claims to preference over other houses in the
-same business:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'We have within the last two years procured and shipped
-upward of 5000 free agricultural labourers for our friends at Mauritius;
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span>
-and, from the circumstance of nearly 500 of the number
-being employed on estates in which we possess a direct interest,
-we can assure you that a happier and more contented labouring
-population is seldom to be met with in any part of the world,
-than the Dhargas or mountain tribes sent from this vast country.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Five thousand within two years to the Mauritius alone! This
-is pretty well, considering that the trade is in its infancy. As to
-the statement of the happiness and contentment of the labourers,
-rather more impartial evidence than the good word of the exporters
-of the commodity advertised would be desirable. If
-Englishmen could fancy themselves Hill Coolies for an instant—landed
-in Berbice, in the proportion of 280 men to 8 of the gentler
-sex, 'speaking a different language,' and shunned by the very
-negroes—we are inclined to think they would not, even in that
-imaginary and momentary view, conceit themselves to be among
-the happiest of mankind.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"We proceed with the Calcutta circular:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The labourers hitherto procured by us have cost their employers,
-<i>landed at the Mauritius</i>, about one hundred rupees (or
-10<i>l.</i> sterling) per man; which sum comprises six months' advance
-of wages, provisions and water for the voyage, clothing, commission,
-passage, insurance, and all incidental charges.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'The expense attending the shipment of Indian labourers to
-the West India Colonies would be necessarily augmented—firstly,
-by the higher rate of passage-money, and the increased quantity
-of provisions and water; and, secondly, from the necessity of
-making arrangements, indispensable to the health and comfort
-of native passengers, on a voyage of so long a duration, in the
-course of which they would be exposed to great vicissitude of
-climate.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'On making ample allowance for these charges, we do not
-apprehend that a labourer, sent direct from this country to Demerara,
-and engaged to work on your estates for a period of five
-consecutive years, would cost, landed there, above two hundred
-and ten rupees, or 21<i>l.</i> sterling.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"This sum of 210 rupees includes <i>six months' wages</i>—at what
-rate does the reader suppose? Why, five rupees, or ten shillings
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span>
-sterling a month—half-a-crown a week—in Demerara! The passage
-is 10<i>l.</i>, and the insurance 12<i>s.</i>; for they are insured at so
-much a head, like pigs or sheep.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It is manifest that after their arrival in Demerara, the Indians
-will not, unless on compulsion, work for five years at the rate of
-10<i>s.</i> a month, while the negroes receive much higher wages.
-They are therefore placed under strict control, and are just as
-much slaves as the Redemptioners, whom the virtuous Quakers
-inveigled into Pennsylvania a century or more ago. The Indians
-bind themselves to work in town or country, wherever their consignee
-or master may choose to employ them. One of the articles
-of their agreement is this:—</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"'In order that the undersigned natives of India may be fully
-aware of the engagement they undertake, it is hereby notified,
-that they will be required to do <i>all such work as the object for
-which they are engaged necessitates</i>; and that, as labourers attached
-to an estate, they will be required to clear forest and extract timber,
-carry manure, dig and prepare land for planting, also to take
-charge of horses, mules, and cattle of every description; <i>in short,
-to do all such work as an estate for the cultivation of sugar-cane and
-the manufacture of sugar demands</i>, or any branch of agriculture to
-which they may be destined.'</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In case of disobedience or misconduct—that is, at the caprice
-of the master—they may be 'degraded,' and sent back at their
-own charge to Calcutta. They are to receive no wages during
-illness; and a rupee a month is to be deducted from their wages—thereby
-reducing them to 2<i>s.</i> a week—as an indemnity-fund for
-the cost of sending them back. What security there is for the
-kind treatment of the labourers does not appear: there is nothing
-in the contract but a promise to act equitably.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Now, in what respect do these men differ in condition from
-negro slaves, except very much for the worse? They must be
-more helpless than the negroes—if for no other reason, because
-of their ignorance of the language their masters use. They will
-not, for a long period certainly, be formidable from their numbers.
-How easily may even the miserable terms of the contract with
-their employers be evaded! Suppose the Indian works steadily
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span>
-for four years, it may suit his master to describe him as refractory
-and idle during the fifth, and then he will be sent back at
-his own cost; and the whole of his earnings may be expended in
-paying for his passage to Calcutta, where, after all, he is a long
-way from home.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"It is impossible to contemplate without pain the inevitable
-lot of these helpless beings; but the conduct of the government,
-which could sanction the infamous commerce of which the Hill
-Cooley will be the victims, while professing all the while such a
-holy horror of dealing in negroes, should rouse general indignation.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Is it only a certain shade of black, and a peculiar physical
-conformation, which excites the compassion of the Anti-Slavery
-people? If it is cruelty, oppression, and fraud which they abhor
-and desire to prevent, then let them renew their agitation in
-behalf of the kidnapped natives of India, now suffering, probably
-more acutely, all that made the lot of the negro a theme for eloquence
-and a field for Christian philanthropy."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">This is written in the right spirit. The trade described
-has increased to an extent which calls for the
-interference of some humane power. Should the British
-government continue to sanction the traffic, it must stand
-responsible for a national crime.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Oppressive and violent as the British dominion in
-India undoubtedly is, the means devised to extend it
-are even more worthy of strong condemnation. The
-government fixes its eyes upon a certain province, where
-the people are enjoying peace and plenty, and determines
-to get possession of it. The Romans themselves
-were not more fertile in pretences for forcible seizure
-of territory than these British plunderers. They quickly
-hunt up a pretender to the throne, support his claims
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span>
-with a powerful army, make him their complete tool,
-dethrone the lawful sovereign, and extend their authority
-over the country. The course pursued toward
-Afghanistan in 1838 illustrates this outrageous violation
-of national rights.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The following account of the origin and progress of
-the Afghanistan war is given by an English writer in the
-Penny Magazine:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"In 1747, Ahmeed Shah, an officer of an Afghan troop in the
-service of Persia, refounded the Afghan monarchy, which was
-maintained until the death of his successor in 1793. Ahmeed
-was of the Douranee tribe, and the limits over which his sway
-extended is spoken of as the Douranee empire. Four of the sons
-of Ahmeed's successor disputed, and in turn possessed, the throne;
-and during this civil war several of the principal chiefs threw off
-their allegiance, and the Douranee empire ceased to exist, but
-was split up into the chiefships of Candahar, Herat, Caboul, and
-Peshawur. Herat afterward became a dependency of Persia, and
-Shah Shooja ool Moolook, the chief of Peshawur, lost his power
-after having enjoyed it for about six years. Dost Mohammed
-Kahn, the chief of Caboul, according to the testimony of the late
-Sir Alexander Burnes, writing in 1832, governed his territory
-with great judgment, improved its internal administration and
-resources, and became the most powerful chief in Afghanistan.
-Shah Shooja was for many years a fugitive and a pensioner of
-the British government. He made one unsuccessful attempt to
-regain his territory, but Peshawur eventually became a tributary
-to the ruler of the Punjab. Such was the state of Afghanistan
-in 1836.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"In the above year the Anglo-Indian government complained
-that Dost Mohammed Khan, chief of Caboul, had engaged in
-schemes of aggrandizement which threatened the stability of the
-British frontier in India; and Sir Alexander Burnes, who was
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span>
-sent with authority to represent to him the light in which his
-proceedings were viewed, was compelled to leave Caboul without
-having effected any change in his conduct. The siege of Herat,
-and the support which both Dost Mohammed and his brother, the
-chief of Candahar, gave to the designs of Persia in Afghanistan,
-the latter chief especially openly assisting the operations against
-Herat, created fresh alarm in the Anglo-Indian government as to
-the security of our frontier. Several minor chiefs also avowed
-their attachment to the Persians. As our policy, instead of hostility,
-required an ally capable of resisting aggression on the
-western frontier of India, the Governor-general, from whose official
-papers we take these statements, 'was satisfied,' after serious
-and mature deliberation, 'that a pressing necessity, as well as
-every consideration of policy and justice, warranted us in espousing
-the cause of Shah Shooja ool Moolk;' and it was determined
-to place him on the throne. According to the Governor-general,
-speaking from the best authority, the testimony as to Shah Shooja's
-popularity was unanimous. In June, 1838, the late Sir William
-Macnaghten formed a tripartite treaty with the ruler of the Punjab
-and Shah Shooja; the object of which was to restore the latter
-to the throne of his ancestors. This policy it was conceived would
-conduce to the general freedom and security of commerce, the
-restoration of tranquillity upon the most important frontier of
-India, and the erection of a lasting barrier against hostile intrigue
-and encroachment; and, while British influence would
-thus gain its proper footing among the nations of Central Asia,
-the prosperity of the Afghan people would be promoted.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">"Troops were despatched from the Presidencies of Bengal and
-Bombay to co-operate with the contingents raised by the Shah
-and our other ally, the united force being intended to act together
-under the name of the 'Army of the Indus.' After a march of
-extraordinary length, through countries which had never before
-been traversed by British troops, and defiles which are the most
-difficult passes in the world, where no wheeled carriage had ever
-been, and where it was necessary for the engineers in many places
-to construct roads before the baggage could proceed, the combined
-forces from Bengal and Bombay reached Candahar in May,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span>
-1839. According to the official accounts, the population were
-enthusiastic in welcoming the return of Shah Shooja. The next
-step was to advance toward Ghiznee and Caboul. On the 23d
-July, the strong and important fortress and citadel of Ghiznee,
-regarded throughout Asia as impregnable, was taken in two
-hours by blowing up the Caboul gate. The army had only been
-forty-eight hours before the place. An 'explosion party' carried
-three hundred pounds of gunpowder in twelve sand-bags, with a
-hose seventy-two feet long, the train was laid and fired, the party
-having just time to reach a tolerable shelter from the effects of
-the concussion, though one of the officers was injured by its force.
-On the 7th of August the army entered Caboul. Dost Mohammed
-had recalled his son Mohammed Akhbar from Jellalabad with
-the troops guarding the Khyber Pass, and their united forces
-amounted to thirteen thousand men; but these troops refused to
-advance, and Dost Mohammed was obliged to take precipitate
-fight, accompanied only by a small number of horsemen. Shah
-Shooja made a triumphant entry into Caboul, and the troops of
-Dost Mohammed tendered their allegiance to him. The official
-accounts state that in his progress toward Caboul he was joined
-by every person of rank and influence in the country. As the
-tribes in the Bolan Pass committed many outrages and murders
-on the followers of the army of the Indus, at the instigation of
-their chief, the Khan of Khelat, his principal town (Khelat) was
-taken on the 13th of November, 1839. The political objects of the
-expedition had now apparently been obtained. The hostile chiefs
-of Caboul and Candahar were replaced by a friendly monarch.
-On the side of Scinde and Herat, British alliance and protection
-were courted. All this had been accomplished in a few months,
-but at an expense said to exceed three millions sterling."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The <i>expense</i> of national outrage is only of importance
-to the sordid and unprincipled men who conceived and
-superintended the Afghanistan expedition. In the first
-part of the above extract, the writer places the British
-government in the position of one who strikes in self-defence.
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span>
-It was informed that Dost Mohammed entertained
-schemes of invasion dangerous to the British
-supremacy—informed by the exiled enemy of the chief
-of Caboul. The information was seasonable and exceedingly
-useful. Straightway a treaty was formed, by
-which the British agreed to place their tool for the
-enslavement of the Afghans upon the throne from
-which he had been driven. Further on, it is said, that
-when Shah Sooja appeared in Afghanistan he was
-joined by every person of rank and influence in the
-country. Just so; and the followers and supporters
-of Dost Mohammed nearly all submitted to the superior
-army of the British general. But two years afterward,
-the strength of the patriotic party was seen, when
-Caboul rose against Shah Sooja, drove him again from
-the throne, and defeated and massacred a considerable
-British garrison. Shah Sooja was murdered soon afterward.
-But the British continued the war against the
-Afghans, with the object of reducing them to the same
-slavery under which the remainder of Hindostan was
-groaning. The violation of national rights, the massacre
-of thousands, and the enslavement of millions
-were the glorious aims of British policy in the Afghan
-expedition. The policy then carried out has been more
-fully illustrated since that period. Whenever a territory
-was thought desirable by the government, neither
-national rights, the principles of justice and humanity,
-nor even the common right of property in individuals
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span>
-has been respected. Wealth has been an object for
-the attainment of which plunder and massacre were not
-considered unworthy means.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Said Mr. John Bright, the radical reformer of Manchester,
-in a speech delivered in the House of Commons:—"It
-cannot be too universally known that the
-cultivators of the soil (in India) are in a very unsatisfactory
-condition; that they are, in truth, in a condition
-of almost extreme and universal poverty. All
-testimony concurred upon that point. He would call
-the attention of the House to the statement of a celebrated
-native of India, the Rajah Rammohun Roy, who,
-about twenty years ago, published a pamphlet in London,
-in which he pointed out the ruinous effects of the
-Zemindaree system, and the oppressions experienced by
-the ryots in the Presidencies of Bombay and Madras.
-After describing the state of affairs generally, he added,
-'Such was the melancholy condition of the agricultural
-labourers, that it always gave him the greatest pain to
-allude to it.' Three years afterward, Mr. Shore, who
-was a judge in India, published a work which was considered
-as a standard work till now, and he stated 'that
-the British government was not regarded in a favourable
-light by the native population of India—that a
-system of taxation and extortion was carried on unparalleled
-in the annals of any country.'"</p>
-
-<p class="i1">From all quarters we receive unimpeachable evidence
-that the locust system has performed its devouring work
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span>
-on the broadest scale in India; and that the Hindoos
-are the victims of conquerors, slower, indeed, in their
-movements, than Tamerlane or Genghis Khan, but more
-destructive and more criminal than either of those great
-barbarian invaders.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span></p>
-
-
-
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="ac">THE CRIME AND THE DUTY OF THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT.</p>
-
-
-<p class="i1"><span class="sc">It</span> remains to sum up the charges against the English
-oligarchy, and to point out the path which justice, humanity,
-and the age require the government to pursue.
-In so doing, we shall go no farther than the facts previously
-adduced will afford us sure ground, nor speak
-more harshly than our duty to our oppressed fellow-men
-will demand. We pity the criminal even while we pass
-sentence upon her.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">A government originating in, and suited for, a barbarous
-age must necessarily be unfit for one enjoying the
-meridian of civilization. The arrangement of lord and
-serf was appropriate to the period when war was regarded
-as the chief employment of mankind, and when more
-respect was paid to the kind of blood flowing in a man's
-veins than to his greatness or generosity of soul. But,
-in the nineteenth century, war is regarded as an evil to
-be avoided as long as possible. Peace is the rule, and
-conflict the exception. Christianity has taught us, also,
-that the good and the great in heart and mind—wherever
-born, wherever bred—are the true nobility of our
-race. It is the sin of the English government that it
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span>
-works against the bright influence of the times and
-throws the gloomy shadow of feudalism over some of the
-fairest regions of the earth. It legislates for the age
-of William the Conqueror instead of the reign of
-Victoria.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The few for hereditary luxury and dominion, the
-many for hereditary misery and slavery, is the grand
-fundamental principle of the English system. For every
-gorgeous palace there are a thousand hovels, where even
-beasts should not be forced to dwell. For every lord
-who spends his days in drinking, gambling, hunting,
-horse-racing, and indulging himself in all the luxuries
-that money can purchase, a thousand persons, at
-least, must toil day and night to obtain the most wretched
-subsistence. In no country are the few richer than in
-England, and in no country are the masses more fearfully
-wretched. The great bulk of the property of
-England, both civil and ecclesiastical, is in the grasp of
-the aristocracy. All offices of church and state, yielding
-any considerable emolument, are monopolized by the
-lords and their nominees. The masses earn—the lords
-spend. The lords have all the property, but the masses
-pay all the taxes, and slave and starve that the taxes
-may be paid.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Without such a system, is it possible that there could
-be millions of acres of good land lying waste, and millions
-of paupers who dare not cultivate it?—that the
-workhouses could be crowded—that men, women, and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491]</a></span>
-children could be driven to all kinds of work, and yet
-by the most exhausting toil not earn enough to enable
-them to live decently and comfortably—that honest and
-industrious people could starve by the wayside, or die
-of disease engendered in dirty hovels—that vice and
-crime could be practised to an appalling extent—that
-whole villages could be swept away and the poor labourers
-either driven into the crowded cities, or to a
-distant land, far from kindred and friends?</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The aristocrats of England are the most extensive
-slaveholders in the world. In England, Wales, Scotland,
-and Ireland, they have the entire labouring mass
-for their slaves—men, women, and children being doomed
-to the most grinding toil to enable their masters to live
-in luxurious ease. In India and the other colonies they
-have treated the natives as the conquered were treated
-in the Middle Ages. They have drained their resources,
-oppressed them in every way, and disposed of tribes and
-nations as if they had been dealing with cattle. Add
-the slaves of India to the slaves of the United Kingdom,
-and we may count them by tens of millions. These
-slaves are not naturally inferior to their masters. They
-belong to races fertile in great and good men and
-women. Poets, artists, philosophers, historians, statesmen,
-and warriors of the first magnitude in genius have
-sprung from these down-trodden people. They have
-fully proved themselves capable of enjoying the sweets
-of freedom. They remain slaves because their masters
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492]</a></span>
-find it profitable, and know how to cozen and bully them
-into submission.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The following description of France before the great
-revolution of 1789, by M. Thiers, is strikingly applicable
-to the condition of Great Britain at the present
-day:—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The condition of the country, both political and economical,
-was intolerable. There was nothing but privilege—privilege vested
-in individuals, in classes, in towns, in provinces, and even in
-trades and professions. Every thing contributed to check industry
-and the natural genius of man. All the dignities of the state,
-civil, ecclesiastical, and military, were exclusively reserved to certain
-individuals. No man could take up a profession without
-certain titles and the compliance with certain pecuniary conditions.
-Even the favours of the crown were converted into family
-property, so that the king could scarcely exercise his own judgment,
-or give any preference. Almost the only liberty left to the
-sovereign was that of making pecuniary gifts, and he had been
-reduced to the necessity of disputing with the Duke of Coigny for
-the abolition of a useless place. Every thing, then, was made immovable
-property in the hands of a few, and everywhere these few
-resisted the many who had been despoiled. The burdens of the
-state weighed on one class only. The noblesse and the clergy
-possessed about two-thirds of the landed property; the other
-third, possessed by the people, paid taxes to the king, a long list of
-feudal <i>droits</i> to the noblesse, tithes to the clergy, and had, moreover,
-to support the devastations committed by noble sportsmen and
-their game. The taxes upon consumption pressed upon the great
-multitude, and consequently on the people. The collection of
-these imposts was managed in an unfair and irritating manner;
-the lords of the soil left long arrears with impunity, but the people,
-upon any delay in payment, were harshly treated, arrested,
-and condemned to pay in their persons, in default of money to
-produce. The people, therefore, nourished with their labour and
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493]</a></span>
-defended with their blood the higher classes of society, without
-being able to procure a comfortable subsistence for themselves.
-The townspeople, a body of citizens, industrious, educated, less
-miserable than the people, could nevertheless obtain none of the
-advantages to which they had a right to aspire, seeing that it was
-their industry that nourished and their talents that adorned the
-kingdom."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">The elements of revolution are all to be found in
-Great Britain. A Mirabeau, with dauntless will and
-stormy eloquence, could use them with tremendous
-effect. Yet the giant of the people does not raise his
-voice to plead the cause of the oppressed, and to awaken
-that irresistible enthusiasm which would sweep away the
-pampered aristocracy.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The armorial escutcheons of the aristocracy are fearfully
-significant of its character. Says John Hampden,
-Jun.:<a name="FNanchor_116_116" id="FNanchor_116_116"></a>
-<a href="#Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a>—</p>
-
-<div class="bq">
-
-<p class="i1">"The whole emblazonment of aristocracy is one manifesto of
-savage barbarism, brute force, and propensity to robbery and plunder.
-What are these objects on their shields? Daggers, swords,
-lions' heads, dogs' heads, arrow-heads, boars' heads, cannon balls,
-clubs, with a medley of stars, moons, and unmeaning figures.
-What are the crests of these arms? Lascivious goats, rampant
-lions, fiery dragons, and griffins gone crazed: bulls' heads, block-heads,
-arms with uplifted daggers, beasts with daggers, and vultures
-tearing up helpless birds. What, again, are the supporters
-of these shields? What are the emblems of the powers by which
-they are maintained and upheld? The demonstration is deeply
-significant. They are the most singular assemblage of all that is
-fierce, savage, rampageous, villanous, lurking, treacherous, blood-thirsty,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494]</a></span>
-cruel, and bestial in bestial natures. They are infuriated
-lions, boars, and tigers; they are raging bulls, filthy goats, horrid
-hyenas, snarling dogs, drunken bears, and mad rams; they are
-foxes, wolves, panthers, every thing that is creeping, sneaking,
-thievish, and perfidious. Nay, nature cannot furnish emblems
-extensive enough, and so start up to our astonished sight the most
-hideous shapes of fiendlike dragons and griffins, black, blasted as
-by infernal fires; the most fuliginous of monsters; and if the human
-shape is assumed for the guardians and supporters of aristocracy,
-they are wild and savage men, armed with clubs and grim
-with hair, scowling brute defiance, and seeming ready to knock
-down any man at the command of their lords. Ay, the very birds
-of prey are called in; and eagles, vultures, cormorants, in most
-expressive attitudes, with most ludicrous embellishments of
-crowned heads, collared necks, escutcheoned sides, and with
-hoisted wings and beaks of open and devouring wrath, proclaim
-the same great truth, that aristocracy is of the class of what the
-Germans call <i>Raub-thieren</i>, or robber-beasts—in our vernacular,
-<i>beasts of prey</i>."</p></div>
-
-<p class="i1">And the character thus published to the world has
-been acted out to the full from the days of the bastard
-Duke of Normandy and his horde of ruffians to the
-time of the "Iron Duke" and his associates in title and
-plunder. The hyenas and vultures have never been
-satisfied.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">The crime of England lies in maintaining the slavery
-of a barbarous age in the middle of the nineteenth century;
-in keeping her slaves in physical misery, mental
-darkness, moral depravity, and heathenism; in carrying
-fire and sword into some of the loveliest regions of
-the earth, in order to gratify that thirst for wealth and
-dominion ever characteristic of an aristocracy; in
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495]</a></span>
-forcing her slaves in India to cultivate poison, and her
-weak neighbours of China to buy it; in plundering and
-oppressing the people of all her colonies; in concentrating
-the wealth of the United Kingdom and the dependencies
-in the purses of a few persons, and thus
-dooming all others beneath her iron rule to constant,
-exhausting, and unrewarded toil! We arraign her before
-the tribunal of justice and humanity, as the most
-powerful and destructive of tyrannies; as the author
-of Ireland's miseries, and a course of action toward
-that island compared with which the dismemberment of
-Poland was merciful; as the remorseless conqueror of
-the Hindoos; as a government so oppressive that her
-people are flying by thousands to the shores of America
-to escape its inflictions! Though most criminals plead
-"not guilty," she cannot have the front to do so! The
-general judgment of civilized mankind has long ago
-pronounced a verdict of conviction.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">Yet, guilty as is the English oligarchy, certain of its
-members have taken to lecturing the world about the
-duties of Christians and philanthropists. This, we suppose,
-in charity, is done upon the principle given by
-Hamlet to his mother—</p>
-
-<p class="ac">"Assume a virtue if you have it not."</p>
-
-<p class="i1">But a loftier authority than Shakspeare tells us to
-remove the beam from our own eye before we point to
-the mote that is in the eye of a brother. Example,
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496]</a></span>
-also, is more powerful than precept. Pious exhortations
-from a villain are usually disregarded. A
-preacher should never have the blood of slaughtered
-victims on his hands.</p>
-
-<p class="i1">We think it not difficult to show that England is the
-best friend of slavery, while professing an aversion to
-it, and dictating to other governments to strive for its
-abolition. At an enormous expense, she maintains
-men-of-war upon the coast of Africa, with the object
-of suppressing the trade in negro slaves. This expense
-her white slaves are taxed to pay; while the men-of-war
-have not only not suppressed the slave-trade, but
-have doubled its horrors, by compelling the slave-traders
-to inflict new tortures upon the negroes they
-capture and conceal. In the mean time, the government
-is doing all in its power to impoverish and enslave
-(for the slavery of a people follows its poverty) the
-more intelligent races of the world. England prides
-herself upon her efforts to destroy the trade in African
-savages and chattel slavery. Her philanthropy is all
-black; miserable wretches with pale faces have no
-claims upon her assisting hand; and she refuses to
-recognise the only kind of slavery by which masters
-are necessitated to provide well for their slaves, while
-she enforces that system which starves them! England
-is the best friend of the most destructive species of
-slavery, and has extended it over tens of millions of
-human beings.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="i1">Justice, humanity, and the age demand the abolition
-of this exhausting, famine-breeding, and murderous
-system. It is hostile to every principle of right—to
-civilization, and to the loving spirit of Christianity.
-Starving millions groan beneath the yoke. From the
-crowded factories and workshops—from the pestilential
-hovels—from the dark and slave-filled coal-pits—from
-the populous workhouses—from the vast army of wandering
-beggars in England and Scotland—from the
-perishing peasantry of Ireland—from the wretched
-Hindoos upon the Ganges and the Indus—from the
-betrayed Coolies in the West-India Islands—arises the
-cry for relief from the plunderers and the oppressors.
-"How long, O Lord, how long!"</p>
-
-<p class="i1">A few thousand persons own the United Kingdom.
-They have robbed and reduced to slavery not only
-their own countrymen, but millions in other lands.
-They continue to rob wherever they find an opportunity.
-They spend what their crime has accumulated in all
-kinds of vice and dissipation, and rear their children
-to the same courses. Money raised for religious purposes
-they waste in luxurious living. They trade in
-all the offices of church and state. They persecute,
-by exclusion, all who do not subscribe to "thirty-nine
-articles" which they wish to force upon mankind. In
-brief, the oligarchy lies like an incubus upon the empire,
-and the people cannot call themselves either free or
-happy until the aristocrats be driven from their high
-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498]</a></span>
-places. Burst, then, the chains, ye countrymen of
-Hampden and Vane! Show to the world that the old
-fire is not yet quenched! that the spirits of your martyrs
-to liberty are yet among you, and their lessons in
-your hearts! Obtain your freedom—peaceably, if you
-can—<i>but obtain it</i>, for it expands and ennobles the life
-of a nation! In the air of liberty alone can a people
-enjoy a healthy existence. A day of real freedom is
-worth more than years in a dungeon. What have you
-to dread? Do you not know your strength? Be
-assured, this aristocracy could not stand an hour, were
-you resolved against its existence! It would be swept
-away as a feather before a hurricane. Do you fear
-that much blood would flow in the struggle? Consider
-the hundreds of thousands who are crushed out of existence
-every year by this aristocracy, and ask yourselves
-if it is not better that the system should be over-thrown,
-even at the expense of blood, than that it
-should continue its destructive career? Had not men
-better make an effort to secure freedom and plenty for
-their posterity, than starve quietly by the wayside?
-These are the questions you should take home to your
-hearts. One grand, determined, glorious effort, and
-you are free.</p>
-
-<p class="ml5 smaller">"Hereditary bondsmen, know ye not<br />
-Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow?"</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<div class="footnotes"><h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>
- The butties are the men who superintend the conveyance of the
- coal from the digger to the pit-shaft.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a>
- To <i>hurry</i> is to draw or push the coal-cars.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a>
- Mitchell, Evidence, No. 7; App. pt. i. p. 65, 1. 31.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Ibid. in loco.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Fellows, Report, s. 58; App.
- pt. ii. p. 256.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Mitchell, Evidence, No. 99;
- App. pt. i. p. 155, 1. 8.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Dr. Mitchell, Report, s. 314;
- App. pt. i. p. 39.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Fellows, Evidence, No. 10;
- App. pt. ii. p. 266, 1. 10.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Symons, Report, s. 200; App.
- pt. i. p. 193.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Wood, Report, s. 36; App.
- pt. ii. p. H 7. Also Evidence, Nos.
-60, 75, 76.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Kennedy, Report, s. 296; App.
- pt. ii. p. 188.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Ibid. s. 304; p. 188.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Austin, Evidence, No. 1;
- App. pt. ii. p. 811; i. 12. See also the remarks by Mr. Fletcher on the vicinity of Oldham,
- App. pt. ii. s. 59, p. 832.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Mitchell, Report, s. 214;
- App. pt. i. p. 143.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Mitchell, Evidence, No. 97;
- App. pt. i. p. 154, 1. 19.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Leifchild, Report, s. 72;
- App. pt. i. p. 252.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 97;
- App. pt. i. p. 587, 1. 39.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Ibid. No. 497, p. 665, 1. 7.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Ibid. No. 504, p. 672, 1. 22.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Symons, Report, s. 22; App.
- pt. i. p. 302.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Symons, Evidence, No. 312;
- App. pt. i. p. 305, 1. 59.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Franks, Report, App. A, No. 2;
- App. pt. i. p. 410, 411.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Franks, Report, s. 85;
- App. pt. ii. p. 485.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> Franks, Evidence, No. 144;
- App. pt. ii. p. 582, 1. 4.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Ibid. No. 2, p. 503, 1. 21.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> R. W. Jones, Evidence, No. 102;
- App. pt. ii. p. 64, 1. 28.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Fellows, Report, s. 45; App.
- pt. ii. p. 255.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> Symons, Report, s. 110;
- App. pt. i. p. 181.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Symons, Evidence, No. 199;
- App. pt. i. p. 279, 1. 3.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Ibid. No. 21; p. 282, 1. 246.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Wood, Evidence, No. 60; App.
- pt. ii. p. h 27, 1. 46.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Kennedy, Evidence, No. 30;
- App. pt. ii. p. 218, 1. 6.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> Austin, Evidence, No. 7; App.
- pt. ii. p. 812. 1. 160.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Ibid. No. 17; p. 815, 1. 53.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 97;
- App. pt. i. p. 587, 1. 32.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Leichfield, Evidence, No. 504;
- p. 672, 1. 22.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> Ibid. No. 498; p. 665, 1. 50.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> Ibid. No. 496; p. 662, 1. 62.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> Mitchell, Evidence, No. 46;
- App. pt. i. p. 81, 1. 47.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> Mitchell, Evidence, No. 77;
- p. 113, 1. 6.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> Ibid. No. 81; p. 114, 1. 22.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> Ibid. No. 82; p. 114, 1. 61.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> Fellows, Report, s. 49;
- App. pt. ii. p. 256.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> Fellows, Evidence, No. 105;
- p. 292, 1. 48.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> Fellows, Evidence, No. 10;
- p. 262, 1. 8.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> Symons, Report, s. 209;
- App. pt. i. p. 193.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> Wood, Report, s. 42;
- App. pt. ii. p. 167.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 499;
- App. pt. i. p. 668, 1. 44.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> Ibid. No. 498; p. 665, 1. 52.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> Franks, Report, s. 68;
- App. pt. i. p. 396.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> Tancred, Evidence, No. 34;
- App. pt. i. p. 371, 1. 58.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> H. H. Jones, Report, s. 83;
- App. pt. ii. p. 375.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> H. H. Jones, Evidence, No. 96;
- App. pt. ii. p. 407, 1. 51.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> Waring, Evidence, No. 38;
- App. pt. ii. p. 25, 1. 57.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> Stewart, Evidence, No. 7;
- App. pt. ii. p. 50, 1. 48.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> Fellows, Evidence, No. 84;
- App. pt. ii. p. 287, 1. 38.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> Symons, Report, s. 110,
- App. pt. i. p. 181.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> Symons, Evidence, No. 221;
- App. pt. i. p. 282, 1. 45.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> Ibid. No. 268; p. 292, 1. 51.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> Kennedy, Report, s. 299;
- App. pt. ii. p. 188.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> Mitchell, Report, s. 212;
- App. pt. i. p. 143.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> Mitchell, Evidence, No. 96;
- App. pt. i. p. 153, 1. 57.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> Ibid. No. 97; p. 153, 1. 64.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> Franks, Report, s. 121;
- App. pt. i. p. 408.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> Franks, Evidence, No. 273;
- App. pt. i. p. 487, 1. 25.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> Franks, Evidence, No. 73;
- p. 450, 1. 31.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> Ibid. No. 83; p. 452, 1. 29.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> H. H. Jones, Report, s. 84;
- App. pt. ii. p. 375.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> H. H. Jones, Evidence, No. 96;
- App. pt. ii. p. 407, 1. 53.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> Ibid. No. 2; p. 378, 1. 35.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> Ibid. No. 3; p. 379, 1. 34.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> Scriven, Report, s. 83; App.
- pt. ii. p. 72.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> Symons, Evidence, s. 96; App.
- pt. i. p. 187.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> Wood, Evidence, No. 76; App.
- pt. ii. p. <i>h</i> 32, 1. 18.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> Symons, Evidence, No. 197;
- App. pt. i. p. 277, 1. 68.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_76_76" id="Footnote_76_76"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> Austin, Evidence, No. 9;
- App. pt. ii. p. 813, 1. 40.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_77_77" id="Footnote_77_77"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> Scriven, Report, s. 82;
- App. pt. ii. p. 72.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_78_78" id="Footnote_78_78"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> Scriven, Evidence, No. 2;
- App. pt. ii. p. 101, 1. 33.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_79_79" id="Footnote_79_79"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> Ibid. No. 79, p. 124, 1. 28.
- See also Nos. 12, 13, 18, 25.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_80_80" id="Footnote_80_80"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 86;
- App. pt. i. p. 583, 1. 27.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_81_81" id="Footnote_81_81"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 201;
- p. 610, 1. 52.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_82_82" id="Footnote_82_82"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> Ibid. No. 267, p. 623, 1. 11.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_83_83" id="Footnote_83_83"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> Franks, Evidence, No. 31;
- App. pt. ii. p. 510, 1. 49.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_84_84" id="Footnote_84_84"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 385;
- App. pt. i. p. 645, 1. 35.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_85_85" id="Footnote_85_85"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> Ibid. No. 375, p. 644, 1. 48.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_86_86" id="Footnote_86_86"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> Tancred, Evidence, No. 9;
- App. pt. i. p. 361, 1. 45.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_87_87" id="Footnote_87_87"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 376;
- App. pt. i. p. 644, 1. 54.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_88_88" id="Footnote_88_88"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> Enclosed for the inspection of
- the Central Board. It is entitled, "A Memoir of Robert Blincoe, &c., Manchester."
- J. Doherty. 1852.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_89_89" id="Footnote_89_89"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> <i>England and America</i>,
- Harpers & Brothers, publishers, 1834.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_90_90" id="Footnote_90_90"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> Every-day Life in London.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_91_91" id="Footnote_91_91"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> This is done at the Model
- Prison, Pentonville.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_92_92" id="Footnote_92_92"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> London Daily News.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_93_93" id="Footnote_93_93"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> In order that these men shall
- be thus protected, it is necessary for the master <span class="sc">TO NAME THEM</span>, before
- they are impressed; this is to be done by going before the mayor or other chief magistrate
- of the place, who is to give the master a certificate, in which is contained the names of
- the particular men whom he thus nominates; and this certificate will be their protection.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_94_94" id="Footnote_94_94"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> Auctioned.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_95_95" id="Footnote_95_95"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> Household Words.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_96_96" id="Footnote_96_96"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> Charge on the Marlborough
- Commission, p. 5. Cited in Lewis's
-Irish Disturbances, p. 227.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_97_97" id="Footnote_97_97"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> See the evidence of Mr. Blacker,
- House of Commons' Report on the State of Ireland, 1824, p. 75; that of Mr. Griffiths,
- <i>ibid.</i> 232; and that of Mr. Blacker, House of Lords' Report, 1824, p. 14.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_98_98" id="Footnote_98_98"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> House of Commons' Committee
- on Combinations, 1838. Questions
-5872-5876.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_99_99" id="Footnote_99_99"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_99_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> Edinburgh Review.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_100_100" id="Footnote_100_100"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> Servants and Servitude,
- in Howitt's Journal.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_101_101" id="Footnote_101_101"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_101_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> Sanitary Inquiry Report,
- 1843, p.64.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_102_102" id="Footnote_102_102"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_102_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> Kay.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_103_103" id="Footnote_103_103"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_103_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> The Slave Trade, Domestic
- and Foreign.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_104_104" id="Footnote_104_104"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> Bigelow's Jamaica in 1850.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_105_105" id="Footnote_105_105"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_105_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> Backhouse's Visit to the
- Mauritius.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_106_106" id="Footnote_106_106"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> Brigg's Historical
- Fragments.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_107_107" id="Footnote_107_107"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> Carey.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_108_108" id="Footnote_108_108"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_108_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> Carey.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_109_109" id="Footnote_109_109"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> Campbell's Modern India.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_110_110" id="Footnote_110_110"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> "Some of Mr. Smith's servants
- entered into a combination to defraud a suitor in his court of a large sum of money, which he
- was to pay to Mrs. Smith as she walked in the garden. A dancing-girl from the town of
- Jubbulpore was made to represent Mrs. Smith, and a suit of Mrs. Smith's clothes were borrowed
- for her from the washer-woman. The butler took the suitor into the garden and introduced him
- to the supposed Mrs. Smith, who received him very graciously, and condescended to accept his
- offer of five thousand rupees in gold mohurs. The plot was afterward discovered, and the old
- butler, washer-woman and all, were sentenced to labour in a rope on the roads."</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_111_111" id="Footnote_111_111"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> Lords' Evidence, 1687.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_112_112" id="Footnote_112_112"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> Campbell's Modern India.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_113_113" id="Footnote_113_113"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_113_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> Rikards.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_114_114" id="Footnote_114_114"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> Collector's Report.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_115_115" id="Footnote_115_115"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> Sketch of Assam.</p>
-</div>
-
-<div class="footnote">
- <p><a name="Footnote_116_116" id="Footnote_116_116"></a>
- <a href="#FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> The Aristocracy of England.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p class="ac larger"><i>MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN PUBLISH</i></p>
-
-<table class="narrow2" id="ADS" summary="Advertisements">
- <tr>
- <td style="width:85%" class="c1-4">*<b>FERN LEAVES FROM FANNY'S PORTFOLIO,—First
- Series</b>,</td>
- <td style="width:15%" class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">8 illustrations by Coffin, engraved by N. Orr, muslin, 400 pp., 12mo.,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt top and side,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Do do gilt edges and
- sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 75</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Do do gilt edges and
- full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">2 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4">*<b>THE SAME—Second Series</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Uniform in Styles and Prices with the First Series—(to be ready in
- March.)</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4">*<b>LITTLE FERNS FOR FANNY'S LITTLE FRIENDS</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">By the Author of Fern Leaves, 6 illustrations, muslin, 298 pp., 16mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">75</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt top and side,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Do do gilt edges and
- full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>NOBLE DEEDS OF AMERICAN WOMEN</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Edited by <span class="sc">J. Clement</span> and Mrs. <span class="sc">L. H.
- Sigourney</span>, 7 illustrations on steel and wood, muslin, 480 pp. 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">2 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>FRESH LEAVES FROM WESTERN WOODS</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">Metta V. Fuller</span>, muslin, 315 pp. 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 75</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>SUMMERFIELD, OR LIFE ON THE FARM</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">By Rev. <span class="sc">Day Kellogg Lee</span>, frontispiece on steel,
- 16mo. 246 pp.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1.75</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>ODD-FELLOW'S AMULET</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or the principles of Odd-Fellowship defined, the objections answered,
- and its advantages maintained, by Rev. <span class="sc">D. W. Bristol</span>, with five
- illustrations on steel, muslin, 12mo. 248 pp</td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>HOUSEHOLD SCENES FOR THE HOME CIRCLE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">4 illustrations, muslin, 311 pp., 12mo.,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 75</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE SUNRISE AND SUNSET OF LIFE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">A True Tale, by <span class="sc">Helen F. Parker</span>, muslin,
- 220 pp., 16mo.,</td>
- <td class="c2">67</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, full gilt,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>WHITE SLAVES OF ENGLAND</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">An Exposition of the condition and treatment of the Laboring Classes in
- the Factories and Coal Mines of Great Britain; compiled from official documents, by
- <span class="sc">John C. Cobden</span>, 11 illustrations, muslin, 500 pp., 12mo.,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>HINTS AND HELPS to Health and Happiness</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">J. H. Ross</span>, M. D., illustrated, muslin, 325 pp.,
- 12mo.,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>PROGRESS OF CIVILIZATION</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">And other Lectures, by Rev. <span class="sc">John C. Lord</span>, D. D.,
- 16mo.,</td>
- <td class="c2">67</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE NEW CLERK'S ASSISTANT</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or every man his own Lawyer, a book of Practical Forms, containing
- numerous precedents for ordinary business transactions, designed for the use of County and
- Town Officers, Merchants, Mechanics, Farmers, and Professional Men: New Constitution, by
- <span class="sc">J. S. Jenkins</span>, law sheep, 644 pp., 8vo.</td>
- <td class="c2">2 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4">*<b>THE NEW-YORK CIVIL AND CRIMINAL JUSTICE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">A complete treatise on the Civil and Criminal Jurisdiction, and the
- Special Powers and Duties of Justices of the Peace in the State of New-York, with numerous
- Forms and a copious Index, by <span class="sc">Morgan</span>,
- <span class="sc">Blatchford</span> and <span class="sc">Seward</span>,
- law sheep, 907 pp.</td>
- <td class="c2">4 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4">*<b>THE GENERAL STATUTES OF NEW-YORK</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Being the Laws of a General Nature in the Revised Statutes of New-York,
- with Notes and References to Judicial Decisions, and the Constitution of 1846, by
- <span class="sc">S. Blatchford</span>, Esq., with a copious Index, by Clarence A.
- Seward, law sheep, 1165 pp., 8vo.</td>
- <td class="c2">3 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—in 2 vols., law sheep,</td>
- <td class="c2">4 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4">*<b>BLATCHFORD'S REPORT OF CASES</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Argued and determined in the Circuit Court U. S. for the 2d Circuit, Hon.
- Samuel Nelson, Presiding Justice; by <span class="sc">Samuel Blatchford</span>, Esq.,
- Reporter to the Court, law sheep, 703 pp., 8vo., vol. 1,</td>
- <td class="c2">5 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—vol. 2, (in press—ready early in the summer of
- 1854,)</td>
- <td class="c2">5 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>EXECUTOR'S, ADMINISTRATOR'S AND GUARDIAN'S GUIDE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Their Powers, Duties, Rights and Obligations, with an Appendix of Practical
- Forms; also, the Duties of Surrogates, third edition, revised and enlarged, and adapted to
- the New Constitution; by <span class="sc">David Wright</span>, Counsellor at Law, law
- sheep, 408 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE NEW CONSTABLE'S GUIDE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">And Marshal's Assistant, their Powers and Duties, Privileges and
- Liabilities, in Civil and Criminal Proceedings in the State of New-York, with
- Practical Forms, a new and revised edition, law sheep, 260 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>NEW ROAD ACT AND HIGHWAY LAWS</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Being a practical Compend of the Powers and Duties of Commissioners and
- Overseers of Highways in the State of New-York, with References to the Statutes and Legal
- Decisions, and all the necessary Forms, by a Counsellor at Law, large octavo pamphlet,
- 40 pp.</td>
- <td class="c2">25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4">*<b>YOUNG'S SCIENCE OF GOVERNMENT</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">New and improved edition, brought down to 1854, and adapted to the use
- of Schools, by <span class="sc">A. W. Young</span>, sheep, 368 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE AMERICAN ORATOR'S OWN BOOK</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Being Selections from the ablest English and American Authors, muslin,
- 350 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>YOUATT ON THE HORSE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Their Structure and Diseases, with their Remedies; also, Practical Rules
- to Buyers, Breeders, Breakers, Smiths, &c.; Notes by <span class="sc">Spooner</span>.
- An account of breeds in the United States, by <span class="sc">H. S. Randall</span>—with
- 60 illustrations, muslin, 483 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>YOUATT AND MARTIN ON CATTLE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">With their Breeds, Management, and Diseases; a complete guide for the
- Farmer, the Amateur, and the Veterinary Surgeon; with 100 illustrations,
- muslin, 469 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>*THE AMERICAN FRUIT CULTURIST</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">With directions for the Orchard, Nursery and Garden, and descriptions of
- American and Foreign Varieties, by <span class="sc">J. J. Thomas</span>; 300 accurate
- figures, revised and enlarged, muslin, 421 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE DAIRYMAN'S MANUAL</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">A complete Guide for the American Dairyman, by <span class="sc">G.
- Evans</span>, 235 pp., 8vo.</td>
- <td class="c2">84</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE AMERICAN FARMER</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or, Home in the Country, a book for Rainy Days and Winter Evenings,
- by <span class="sc">J. L. Blake</span>, D. D., 23 illustrations, muslin, 460 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>ROGERS' SCIENTIFIC AGRICULTURE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Muslin or sheep, 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">75</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>AMERICAN LADY'S SYSTEM OF COOKERY</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Comprising every variety of information for ordinary and holiday occasions,
- with Rules for Carving, by Mrs. <span class="sc">T. J. Crowen</span>, illustrated, muslin,
- 454 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>ROBBINS' PRODUCE RECKONER</b>, muslin, 118 pp., 16mo., per dozen,</td>
- <td class="c2">6 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>WHAT I SAW IN NEW-YORK</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or, a Bird's-eye View of City Life, by <span class="sc">J. H. Ross</span>,
- M. D., frontispiece, muslin, 326 pp., 12mo. </td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>FREMONT'S EXPLORING EXPEDITION</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">To the Rocky Mountains, Oregon and California, with additional "El Dorado"
- matter; portrait, muslin, 456 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE ARCTIC REGIONS</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Being an Account of the Exploring Expeditions of Ross, Franklin, Parry,
- Back, McClure, and others, with the English and American Expeditions in search of Sir John
- Franklin, illustrated, muslin, 396 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>GREAT MEN AND GREAT EVENTS IN HISTORY</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">From the Earliest Period to the Present Time, by <span class="sc">John
- Frost</span>, LL. D., 800 illustrations, muslin, 832 pp, 8vo.,</td>
- <td class="c2">2 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—embossed morocco, marble edge,</td>
- <td class="c2">3 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>ANTIQUITIES OF THE STATE OF NEW-YORK</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">With an Appendix on the Antiquities of the West, by Hon. <span class="sc">E.
- G. Squier</span>, embellished with nearly 100 engravings, small 8vo.</td>
- <td class="c2">2 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE PHELPS AND GORHAM PURCHASE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">To which is added a Supplement, containing the History of Ontario, Wayne,
- Livingston, Yates and Allegany Counties, by <span class="sc">O. Turner</span>, author of
- "The Holland Purchase," 588 pp., 8vo.,</td>
- <td class="c2">2 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>HISTORY OF THE WAR WITH MEXICO</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">From the commencement of hostilities with the United States, to the
- ratification of peace—embracing detailed accounts of the brilliant achievements
- of Generals Taylor, Scott, Worth, Twiggs, Kearney and others, by <span class="sc">John S.
- Jenkins</span>, 20 illustrations, muslin, 506 pp., large 12mo., </td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—octavo edition, embossed morocco, marble edge,
- 526 pp.,</td>
- <td class="c2">2 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>HISTORY OF THE MORMONS</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or, Latter Day Saints, with a Memoir of Joe Smith, the "American Mahomet,"
- 12 illustrations, muslin, 399 pp., 12mo.,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>HISTORY AND CONDITION OF OREGON</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Including a Voyage round the World, by Rev. <span class="sc">G. Hines</span>
- of the Oregon Mission, muslin, 437 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>FROST'S PICTORIAL HISTORY OF CALIFORNIA</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">From the period of the Conquest by Spain, to the formation of a State;
- containing an account of the Gold Mines, Resources, and Adventures among the Miners, etc.;
- also Advice to Emigrants: colored frontispiece and other illustrations, muslin, 508 pp.,
- 12mo. </td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>SIDNEY'S HISTORY OF AUSTRALIA,</b></td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">The Three Colonies of Australia, New South Wales, Victoria, South Australia,
- their Pastures, Copper Mines and Gold Fields, by <span class="sc">Samuel Sidney</span>,
- 10 illustrations, muslin, 408 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>PICTORIAL FAMILY ENCYCLOPEDIA</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Of History, Biography and Travels, comprising prominent Events in the
- History of the World, Biographies of Eminent Men, and interesting Accounts of Distinguished
- Travelers, by <span class="sc">John Frost</span>, LL. D., 360 illustrations, muslin,
- 648 pp., 8vo.</td>
- <td class="c2">2 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—embossed morocco, marble edges,</td>
- <td class="c2">2 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4">*<b>TWELVE YEARS A SLAVE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">The Narrative of <span class="sc">Solomon Northup</span>, a citizen of
- New-York kidnapped in Washington City in 1841, and rescued in 1853, from a Cotton
- Plantation near the Red River, in Louisiana, 7 illustrations, muslin, 336 pp., 12mo. </td>
- <td class="c2">1 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4">*<b>WILD SCENES OF A HUNTER'S LIFE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Including Cummings' Adventures among the Lions, Elephants and other
- wild Animals of Africa, by <span class="sc">John Frost</span>, LL. D., with 8 colored and
- 300 letter-press illustrations, muslin, 467 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>LIFE ON THE PLAINS</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">And among the Diggings, being Scenes and Adventures of an Overland
- Journey to California, with particular Incidents of the Route, Sufferings of Emigrants,
- Indian Tribes, &c., by <span class="sc">A. Delano</span>, illustrated, 384 pp.,
- 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE AUSTRALIAN CAPTIVE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or, Fifteen Years' Adventures of William Jackman, including his Residence
- among the Cannibals of Nuyts' Land, with portraits and other illustrations,
- edited by Rev. <span class="sc">I. Chamberlain</span>, muslin, 392 pp., 12mo. </td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>FRONTIER LIFE</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or Scenes and Adventures in the South-west, by <span class="sc">F.
- Hardman</span>, illustrated, muslin, 376 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THRILLING ADVENTURES</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">By Land and Sea, being remarkable Facts from Authentic Sources, edited
- by <span class="sc">J. O. Brayman</span>, illustrated, muslin, 504 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>DARING DEEDS OF AMERICAN HEROES</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">With Biographical Sketches, by <span class="sc">J. O. Brayman</span>,
- illustrated, 12mo. 450 pp.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>LIFE AT THE SOUTH</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Being Narratives, Scenes, and Incidents in Slave Life, by <span class="sc">W.
- L. G. Smith</span>, illustrated, muslin, 519 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>BORDER WARS OF THE WEST</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Comprising the Frontier Wars of Pennsylvania, Virginia, Kentucky, Ohio,
- Indiana, Illinois, Tennessee and Wisconsin, and embracing the Individual
- Adventures among the Indians, and Exploits of Boone, Kenton, Clark, Logan, and other
- Border Heroes of the West, by <span class="sc">Professor Frost</span>, 300 illustrations,
- muslin, 608 pp., muslin, 8vo.</td>
- <td class="c2">2 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>WESTERN SCENES</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">And Reminiscences, together with thrilling Legends and Traditions of the
- Red Man of the Forest, illustrated, muslin, 8vo.</td>
- <td class="c2">2 00</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>GIFT BOOK FOR YOUNG MEN</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or Familiar Letters on Self-knowledge, Self-education, Female Society,
- Marriage, &c., by Dr. <span class="sc">Wm. A. Alcott</span>, frontispiece, muslin,
- 312 pp., 12mo. </td>
- <td class="c2">84</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>GIFT BOOK FOR YOUNG LADIES</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or Woman's Mission; being Familiar Letters to a Young Lady on her
- Amusements, Employments, Studies, Acquaintances, male and female, Friendships, &c.,
- by Dr. <span class="sc">Wm. A. Alcott</span>, frontispiece on steel, muslin,
- 307 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">84</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>YOUNG MAN'S BOOK</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or, Self-Education, by Rev. <span class="sc">Wm. Hosmer</span>, frontispiece
- on steel, muslin, 291 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">84</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>YOUNG LADY'S BOOK</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or, Principles of Female Education, by Rev. <span class="sc">Wm.
- Hosmer</span>, frontispiece on steel, muslin, 301 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">84</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>GOLDEN STEPS FOR THE YOUNG</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">To Usefulness, Respectability and Happiness, by <span class="sc">John Mather
- Austin</span>, author of "Voice to Youth," frontispiece on steel, muslin, 243 pp.,
- 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">84</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td>
- <td class="c2">1 50</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>VOICE TO THE YOUNG</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">Or, Lectures for the Times, by <span class="sc">W. W. Patton</span>,
- muslin, 213 pp., 12mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">75</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE YOUTH'S BOOK OF GEMS</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">F. C. Woodworth</span>, with 100 illustrations,
- muslin, 386 pp., 8vo.</td>
- <td class="c2">1 25</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>THE STRING OF PEARLS</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">For Boys and Girls, by <span class="sc">T. S. Arthur</span> and
- <span class="sc">F. C. Woodworth</span>, with many illustrations, muslin, 288 pp.,
- 16mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">84</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>STORIES ABOUT BIRDS</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">F. C. Woodworth</span>, with illustrative engravings,
- muslin, 336 pp., 16mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">84</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">F. C. Woodworth</span>, with illustrative engravings,
- muslin, 336 pp., 16mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">84</td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-4"><b>WONDERS OF THE INSECT WORLD</b>,</td>
- <td class="c2"></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">F. C. Woodworth</span>, with illustrative engravings,
- muslin, 336 pp., 16mo.</td>
- <td class="c2">84</td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<div class="transnote">
-
-<h2>Transcriber's Note:</h2>
-
-<ul>
- <li>Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.</li>
- <li>Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant
- form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.</li>
- <li>Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.</li>
- <li>Footnotes were moved to the end of the book and numbered in one
- continuous sequence.</li>
- <li>Other notes:
- <ul>
- <li>p. 26: be at changed to bear. (...that parish must bear the cost....)</li>
- <li>p. 29: Frith → Firth. (Firth of Forth.)</li>
- <li>p. 84: Chesterle → Chester le. (Chester le Street.)</li>
- <li>p. 336: an → on. (I could sit my eyes on.)</li>
- </ul>
- </li>
-</ul>
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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COBDEN.</p> + +<p class="ac p6"><span class="smaller">AUBURN AND BUFFALO:</span><br /> +MILLER ORTON & MULLIGAN.<br /> +<span class="smaller">1854.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<p class="ac"> +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and +fifty-three, by<br /> + +<span class="sc">Derby and Miller</span>,<br /> +In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New-York.<br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> +</div> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> following pages exhibit a system of wrong and outrage +equally abhorrent to justice, civilization and humanity. The +frightful abuses which are here set forth, are, from their enormity, +difficult of belief; yet they are supported by testimony +the most impartial, clear and irrefutable. These abuses are +time-honored, and have the sanction of a nation which prides itself +upon the <i>freedom of its Constitution</i>; and which holds up +its government to the nations of the earth as a model of <i>regulated +liberty</i>. Vain, audacious, <i>false</i> assumption! Let the refutation +be found in the details which this volume furnishes, of +the want, misery and starvation—the slavish toil—the menial +degradation of nineteen-twentieths of her people. Let her +<i>miners</i>, her <i>operatives</i>, <i>the tenants of her workhouses</i>, her +<i>naval service</i>, and the millions upon millions in the <i>Emerald +Isle</i> and in farther India attest its fallacy.</p> + +<p class="i1">These are the legitimate results of the laws and institutions +of Great Britain; and they reach and affect, in a greater or less +degree, all her dependencies. Her <i>church and state</i>, and her +<i>laws of entail and primogeniture</i>, are the principal sources of +the evils under which her people groan; and until these are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +changed there is no just ground of hope for an improvement +in their condition. The tendency of things is, indeed, to make +matters still worse. The poor are every year becoming poorer, +and more dependent upon those who feast upon their sufferings; +while the wealth and power of the realm are annually +concentrating in fewer hands, and becoming more and more instruments +of oppression. The picture is already sufficiently +revolting. "Nine hundred and ninety-nine children of the +same common Father, suffer from destitution, that the thousandth +may revel in superfluities. A thousand cottages shrink +into meanness and want, to swell the dimensions of a single palace. +The tables of a thousand families of the industrious poor waste +away into drought and barrenness, that one board may be laden +with surfeits."</p> + +<p class="i1">From these monstrous evils there seems to be little chance +of escape, except by flight; and happy is it for the victims of +oppression, that an asylum is open to them, in which they can +fully enjoy the rights and privileges, from which, for ages, they +have been debarred. Let them come. The feudal chains +which so long have bound them can here be shaken off. Here +they can freely indulge the pure impulses of the mind and the +soul, untrammeled by political or religious tyranny. Here +they can enjoy the beneficent influences of humane institutions +and laws, and find a vast and ample field in which to develop +and properly employ all their faculties.</p> + +<p class="i1">The United States appear before the eyes of the down-trodden +whites of Europe as a land of promise. Thousands of ignorant, +degraded wretches, who have fled from their homes to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +escape exhausting systems of slavery, annually land upon our +shores, and in their hearts thank God that he has created such +a refuge. This is the answer—the overwhelming answer—to +the decriers of our country and its institutions. These emigrants +are more keenly alive to the superiority of our institutions +than most persons who have been bred under them, and +to their care we might confidently intrust our defence.</p> + +<p class="i1">We design to prove in this work that the oligarchy which +owns Great Britain at the present day is the best friend of human +slavery, and that its system is most barbarous and destructive. +Those feudal institutions which reduced to slavery the +strong-minded race of whites, are perpetuated in Great Britain, +to the detriment of freedom wherever the British sway extends. +Institutions which nearly every other civilized country has abolished, +and which are at least a century behind the age, still curse +the British islands and their dependencies. This system of +slavery, with all its destructive effects, will be found fully illustrated +in this volume.</p> + +<p class="i1">Our plan has been to quote English authorities wherever possible. +Out of their own mouths shall they be condemned. +We have been much indebted to the publications of distinguished +democrats of England, who have keenly felt the evils +under which their country groans, and striven, with a hearty +will, to remove them. They have the sympathies of civilized +mankind with their cause. May their efforts soon be crowned +with success, for the British masses and oppressed nations far +away in the East will shout loud and long when the aristocracy +is brought to the dust!</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>" • • • • • <span class="sc">AS WE HAVE BEEN GREAT IN CRIME, LET US BE +EARLY IN REPENTANCE. THERE WILL BE A DAY OF RETRIBUTION, WHEREIN +WE SHALL HAVE TO GIVE ACCOUNT OF ALL THE TALENTS, FACULTIES, +AND OPPORTUNITIES WHICH HAVE BEEN INTRUSTED TO US. LET IT NOT +THEN APPEAR THAT OUR SUPERIOR POWER HAS BEEN EMPLOYED TO OPPRESS +OUR FELLOW CREATURES, AND OUR SUPERIOR LIGHT TO DARKEN THE CREATION +OF OUR GOD.</span>"—<i>Wilberforce.</i></p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> +</div> + +<table id="TOC" summary="CONTENTS"> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_I" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER I.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">General Slavery proceeding from the existence of the British Aristocracy</td> + <td class="c2"><span style="width:10%;"><i>Page </i></span>13</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_II" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER II.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Slavery in the British Mines</td> + <td class="c2">28</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_III" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER III.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Slavery in the British Factories</td> + <td class="c2">104</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER IV.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Slavery in the British Workshops</td> + <td class="c2">168</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_V" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER V.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">The Workhouse System of Britain</td> + <td class="c2">206</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER VI.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Impressment, or Kidnapping White Men for Slaves in the Naval Service</td> + <td class="c2">257</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER VII.</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Irish Slavery</td> + <td class="c2">284</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER VIII.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">The Menial Slaves of Great Britain</td> + <td class="c2">370</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER IX.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Mental and Moral Condition of the White Slaves in Great Britain</td> + <td class="c2">379</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_X" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER X.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Coolie Slavery in the British Colonies</td> + <td class="c2">433</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER XI.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Slavery in British India</td> + <td class="c2">441</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII" style="text-decoration: none;"> + CHAPTER XII.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">The Crime and the Duty of the English Government</td> + <td class="c2">489</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="ac">THE<br /><br /> +<span class="larger">WHITE SLAVES OF ENGLAND.</span></p> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">GENERAL SLAVERY PROCEEDING FROM THE EXISTENCE OF +THE BRITISH ARISTOCRACY.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">What</span> is slavery? A system under which the time +and toil of one person are compulsorily the property of +another. The power of life and death, and the privilege +of using the lash in the master, are not essential, but +casual attendants of slavery, which comprehends all involuntary +servitude without adequate recompense or the +means of escape. He who can obtain no property in the +soil, and is not represented in legislation, is a slave; +for he is completely at the mercy of the lord of the soil +and the holder of the reins of government. Sometimes +slavery is founded upon the inferiority of one race to +another; and then it appears in its most agreeable +garb, for the system may be necessary to tame and +civilize a race of savages. But the subjection of the +majority of a nation to an involuntary, hopeless, exhausting, +and demoralizing servitude, for the benefit of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +an idle and luxurious few of the same nation, is slavery +in its most appalling form. Such a system of slavery, +we assert, exists in Great Britain.</p> + +<p class="i1">In the United Kingdom, the land is divided into +immense estates, constantly retained in a few hands; +and the tendency of the existing laws of entail and +primogeniture is to reduce even the number of these +proprietors. According to McCulloch, there are +77,007,048 acres of land in the United Kingdom, including +the small islands adjacent. Of this quantity, +28,227,435 acres are uncultivated; while, according to +Mr. Porter, another English writer, about 11,300,000 +acres, now lying waste, are fit for cultivation. The +number of proprietors of all this land is about 50,000. +Perhaps, this is a rather high estimate for the present +period. Now the people of the United Kingdom number +at least 28,000,000. What a tremendous majority, +then, own not a foot of soil! But this is not the worst. +Such is the state of the laws, that the majority never +can acquire an interest in the land. Said the London +<i>Times</i>, in 1844, "<i>Once a peasant in England, and the +man must remain a peasant for ever</i>;" and, says Mr. +Kay, of Trinity College, Cambridge—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Unless the English peasant will consent to tear himself from +his relations, friends, and early associations, and either transplant +himself into a town or into a distant colony, he has no chance of +improving his condition in the world."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Admit this—admit that the peasant must remain +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +through life at the mercy of his lord, and of legislation +in which his interests are not represented—and tell us +if he is a freeman?</p> + +<p class="i1">To begin with England, to show the progress and +effects of the land monopoly:—The Rev. Henry Worsley +states that in the year 1770, there were in England +250,000 freehold estates, in the hands of 250,000 different +families; and that, in 1815, the whole of the lands of +England were concentrated in the hands of only 32,000 +proprietors! So that, as the population increases, the +number of proprietors diminishes. A distinguished +lawyer, who was engaged in the management of estates +in Westmoreland and Cumberland counties in 1849, +says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The greater proprietors in this part of the country are buying +up all the land, and including it in their settlements. Whenever +one of the small estates is put up for sale, the great proprietors +outbid the peasants and purchase it at all costs. The consequence +is, that for some time past, the number of the small estates has been +rapidly diminishing in all parts of the country. In a short time +none of them will remain, but all be merged in the great estates. +* * * The consequence is, that the peasant's position, instead +of being what it once was—one of hope—is gradually becoming +one of despair. Unless a peasant emigrates, there is now no +chance for him. It is impossible for him to rise above the peasant +class."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The direct results of this system are obvious. Unable +to buy land, the tillers of the soil live merely by the +sufferance of the proprietors. If one of the great landholders +takes the notion that grazing will be more +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +profitable than farming, he may sweep away the homes +of his labourers, turning the poor wretches upon the +country as wandering paupers, or driving them into the +cities to overstock the workshops and reduce the wages +of the poor workman. And what is the condition of +the peasants who are allowed to remain and labour +upon the vast estates? Let Englishmen speak for +Englishmen.</p> + +<p class="i1">Devon, Somerset, Dorset, and Wiltshire are generally +regarded as presenting the agricultural labourer in his +most deplorable circumstances, while Lincolnshire exhibits +the other extreme. We have good authority for +the condition of the peasantry in all these counties. +Mr. John Fox, medical officer of the Cerne Union, in +Dorsetshire, says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Most of the cottages are of the worst description; some mere +mud-hovels, and situated in low and damp places, with cesspools +or accumulations of filth close to the doors. The mud floors of +many are much below the level of the road, and, in wet seasons, +are little better than so much clay. In many of the cottages, the +beds stood on the ground floor, which was damp three parts of +the year; scarcely one had a fireplace in the bedroom; and one +had a single small pane of glass stuck in the mud wall as its only +window. Persons living in such cottages are generally very poor, +very dirty, and usually in rags, living almost wholly on bread +and potatoes, scarcely ever tasting any animal food, and, consequently, +highly susceptible of disease, and very unable to contend +with it."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Very often, according to other equally good authority, +there is not more than one room for the whole family, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +and the demoralization of that family is the natural +consequence. The <i>Morning Chronicle</i> of November, +1849, said of the cottages at Southleigh, in Devon—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"One house, which our correspondent visited, was almost a +ruin. It had continued in that state for ten years. The floor +was of mud, dipping near the fireplace into a deep hollow, which +was constantly filled with water. There were five in the family—a +young man of twenty-one, a girl of eighteen, and another girl +of about thirteen, with the father and mother, all sleeping together +up-stairs. And what a sleeping-room! 'In places it +seemed falling in. To ventilation it was an utter stranger. The +crazy floor shook and creaked under me as I paced it.' Yet the +rent was 1<i>s.</i> a week—the same sum for which apartments that +may be called luxurious in comparison may be had in the model +lodging-houses. And here sat a girl weaving that beautiful +Honiton lace which our peeresses wear on court-days. Cottage +after cottage at Southleigh presented the same characteristics. +Clay floors, low ceilings letting in the rain, no ventilation; two +rooms, one above and one below; gutters running through the +lower room to let off the water; unglazed window-frames, now +boarded up, and now uncovered to the elements, the boarding +going for firewood; the inmates disabled by rheumatism, ague, +and typhus; broad, stagnant, open ditches close to the doors; +heaps of abominations piled round the dwellings; such are the +main features of Southleigh; and it is in these worse than pig-styes +that one of the most beautiful fabrics that luxury demands +or art supplies is fashioned. The parish houses are still worse. +'One of these, on the borders of Devonshire and Cornwall, and +not far from Launceston, consisted of two houses, containing +between them four rooms. In each room lived a family night +and day, the space being about twelve feet square. In one were +a man and his wife and eight children; the father, mother, and +two children lay in one bed, the remaining six were huddled +'head and foot' (three at the top and three at the foot) in the +other bed. The eldest girl was between fifteen and sixteen, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +eldest boy between fourteen and fifteen.' Is it not horrible to +think of men and women being brought up in this foul and brutish +manner in civilized and Christian England! The lowest of +savages are not worse cared for than these children of a luxurious +and refined country."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Yet other authorities describe cases much worse than +this which so stirs the heart of the editor of the <i>Morning +Chronicle</i>. The frightful immorality consequent +upon such a mode of living will be illustrated fully in +another portion of this work.</p> + +<p class="i1">In Lincolnshire, the cottages of the peasantry are in a +better condition than in any other part of England; but +in consequence of the lowness of wages and the comparative +enormity of rents, the tillers of the soil are in +not much better circumstances than their rural brethren +in other counties. Upon an average, a hard-working +peasant can earn five shillings a week; two shillings of +which go for rent. If he can barely live when employed, +what is to become of him when thrown out of employment? +Thus the English peasant is driven to the most +constant and yet hopeless labour, with whips more +terrible than those used by the master of the negro slave.</p> + +<p class="i1">In Wales, the condition of the peasant, thanks to the +general system of lord and serf, is neither milder nor +more hopeful than in England. Mr. Symonds, a commissioner +who was sent by government to examine the +state of education in some of the Welsh counties, says +of the peasantry of Brecknockshire, Cardiganshire, and +Radnorshire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The people of my district are almost universally poor. In +some parts of it, wages are probably lower than in any part of +Great Britain. The evidence of the witnesses, fully confirmed by +other statements, exhibits much poverty, but little amended in +other parts of the counties on which I report. <i>The farmers themselves +are very much impoverished, and live no better than English +cottagers in prosperous agricultural counties.</i></p> + +<p class="i1">"The cottages in which the people dwell are miserable in the +extreme in nearly every part of the country in Cardiganshire, +and every part of Brecknockshire and Radnorshire, except the +east. I have myself visited many of the dwellings of the poor, +and my assistants have done so likewise. <i>I believe the Welsh +cottages to be very little, if at all, superior to the Irish huts in the +country districts.</i></p> + +<p class="i1">"Brick chimneys are very unusual in these cottages; those +which exist are usually in the shape of large cones, the top being +of basket-work. <i>In very few cottages is there more than one room</i>, +which serves the purposes of living and sleeping. A large dresser +and shelves usually form the partition between the two; and +where there are separate beds for the family, a curtain or low +board is (if it exists) the only division with no regular partition. +And this state of things very generally prevails, even where there +is some little attention paid to cleanliness; but the cottages and +beds are frequently filthy. The people are always very dirty. In +all the counties, the cottages are generally destitute of necessary +outbuildings, including even those belonging to the farmers; and +both in Cardiganshire and Radnorshire, except near the border +of England, the pigs and poultry have free run of the joint dwelling +and sleeping rooms."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In Scotland, the estates of the nobility are even +larger than in England. Small farms are difficult to +find. McCulloch states that there are not more than +8000 proprietors of land in the whole of Scotland; and, +as in England, this number is decreasing. In some +districts, the cottages of the peasantry are as wretched +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +as any in England or Wales. For some years past, the +great landholders, such as the Duke of Buccleuch and +the Duchess of Sutherland, have been illustrating the +glorious beneficence of British institutions by removing +the poor peasantry from the homes of their fathers, for +the purpose of turning the vacated districts into deer-parks, +sheep-walks, and large farms. Many a Highland +family has vented a curse upon the head of the remorseless +Duchess of Sutherland. Most slaveholders +in other countries feed, shelter, and protect their slaves, +in compensation for work; but the Duchess and her +barbarous class take work, shelter, food, and protection +from their serfs all at one fell swoop, turning them upon +the world to beg or starve. Scotland has reason—strong +reason—to bewail the existence of the British +aristocracy.</p> + +<p class="i1">Next let us invoke the testimony of Ireland—the +beautiful and the wretched—Ireland, whose people have +been the object of pity to the nations for centuries—whose +miseries have been the burden of song and the +theme of eloquence till they have penetrated all hearts +save those of the oppressors—whose very life-blood has +been trampled out by the aristocracy. Let us hear her +testimony in regard to the British slave system.</p> + +<p class="i1">Ireland is splendidly situated, in a commercial point +of view, commanding the direct route between Northern +Europe and America, with some of the finest harbours +in the world. Its soil is rich and fruitful. Its rivers +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +are large, numerous, and well adapted for internal +commerce. The people are active, physically and +intellectually, and, everywhere beyond Ireland, are +distinguished for their energy, perseverance, and +success. Yet, in consequence of its organized oppression, +called government, Ireland is the home of miseries +which have scarcely a parallel upon the face of the +earth. The great landlords spend most of their time +in England or upon the continent, and leave their lands +to the management of agents, who have sub-agents for +parts of the estates, and these latter often have still +inferior agents. Many of the great landlords care +nothing for their estates beyond the receipt of the rents, +and leave their agents to enrich themselves at the +expense of the tenantry. Everywhere in Ireland, a +traveller, as he passes along the roads, will see on the +roadsides and in the fields, places which look like +mounds of earth and sods, with a higher heap of sods +upon the top, out of which smoke is curling upward; +and with two holes in the sides of the heap next the +road, one of which is used as the door, and the other +as the window of the hovel. These are the homes of +the peasantry! Entering a hovel, you will find it to +contain but one room, formed by the four mud walls; +and in these places, upon the mud floor, the families of +the peasant live. Men, women, boys, and girls live +and sleep together, and herd with the wallowing pig. +Gaunt, ragged figures crawl out of these hovels and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +plant the ground around them with potatoes, which +constitute the only food of the inmates throughout the +year, or swarm the roads and thoroughfares as wretched +beggars. The deplorable condition of these peasants +was graphically described by no less a person than Sir +Robert Peel, in his great speech on Ireland, in 1849; +and the evidence quoted by him was unimpeachable. +But not only are the majority of the Irish condemned +to exist in such hovels as we have sketched above—their +tenure of these disgusting cabins is insecure. If they +do not pay the rent for them at the proper time, they +are liable to be turned adrift even in the middle of the +night. No notice is necessary. The tenants are subject +to the tender mercies of a bailiff, without any +remedy or appeal, except to the court of Heaven. Kay +states that in 1849, more than 50,000 families were +evicted and turned as beggars upon the country. An +Englishman who travelled through Ireland in the fall +of 1849, says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In passing through some half dozen counties, Cork, (especially +in the western portions of it,) Limerick, Clare, Galway, and +Mayo, you see thousands of ruined cottages and dwellings of the +labourers, the peasants, and the small holders of Ireland. You +see from the roadside twenty houses at once with not a roof upon +them. I came to a village not far from Castlebar, where the +system of eviction had been carried out only a few days before. +Five women came about us as the car stopped, and on making +inquiry, they told us their sorrowful story. They were not badly +clad; they were cleanly in appearance; they were intelligent; +they used no violent language, but in the most moderate terms +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +told us that on the Monday week previously those five houses had +been levelled. They told us how many children there were in +their families: I recollect one had eight, another had six; that +the husbands of three of them were in this country for the harvest; +that they had written to their husbands to tell them of the +desolation of their homes. And, I asked them, 'What did the +husbands say in reply?' They said 'they had not been able to +eat any breakfast!' It is but a simple observation, but it marks +the sickness and the sorrow which came over the hearts of those +men, who here were toiling for their three or four pounds, denying +themselves almost rest at night that they might make a good +reaping at the harvest, and go back that they might enjoy it in +the home which they had left. All this is but a faint outline of +what has taken place in that unhappy country. Thousands of +individuals have died within the last two or three years in consequence +of the evictions which have taken place."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The great loss of life in the famine of 1847 showed +that the peasantry had a miserable dependence upon +the chances of a good potato crop for the means of +keeping life in their bodies. Crowds of poor wretches, +after wandering about for a time like the ghosts of +human beings, starved to death by the roadside, victims +of the murderous policy of the landed aristocracy. +Since that period of horror, the great proprietors, +envious of the lurid fame achieved by the Duchess of +Sutherland in Scotland, have been evicting their tenants +on the most extensive scale, and establishing large farms +and pasturages, which they deem more profitable than +former arrangements. In despair at home, the wretched +Irish are casting their eyes to distant lands for a refuge +from slavery and starvation. But hundreds of thousands +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +groan in their hereditary serfdom, without the +means of reaching other and happier countries. The +dearest ties of family are sundered by the force of want. +The necessity of seeking a subsistence drives the father +to a distant land, while the child is compelled to remain +in Ireland a pauper. The husband can pay his own +passage to America, perchance, but the wife must stay +in the land of misery. Ask Ireland if a slave can +breathe in Great Britain! The long lamentation of +ages, uniting with the heart-broken utterances of her +present wretched bondsmen, might touch even the +British aristocracy in its reply.</p> + +<p class="i1">So much for the general condition of the peasantry +in the United Kingdom. The miserable consequences of +the system of lord and serf do not end here. No! There +are London, Manchester, Birmingham, Glasgow, Dublin, +and many other cities and towns, with their crowds of +slaves either in the factories and workshops, or in the +streets as paupers and criminals. There are said to be +upward of four millions of paupers in the United +Kingdom! Can such an amount of wretchedness be +found in any country upon the face of the globe? To +what causes are we to attribute this amount of pauperism, +save to the monopolies and oppressions of the +aristocracy? Think of there being in the United +Kingdom over eleven million acres of good land uncultivated, +and four millions of paupers! According to +Kay, more than two millions of people were kept from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +starving in England and Wales, in 1848, by relief doled +out to them from public and private sources. So scant +are the earnings of those who labour day and night in +the cities and towns, that they may become paupers if +thrown out of work for a single week. Many from +town and country are driven by the fear of starvation +to labour in the mines, the horrors of which species of +slavery shall be duly illustrated farther on in this +work.</p> + +<p class="i1">Truly did Southey write—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"To talk of English happiness, is like talking of Spartan freedom; +the <i>helots</i> are overlooked. In no country can such riches +be acquired by commerce, but it is the one who grows rich by +the labour of the hundred. The hundred human beings like +himself, as wonderfully fashioned by nature, gifted with the like +capacities, and equally made for immortality, are sacrificed <i>body +and soul</i>. Horrible as it must needs appear, the assertion is true +to the very letter. They are deprived in childhood of all instruction +and all enjoyment—of the sports in which childhood instinctively +indulges—of fresh air by day and of natural sleep by night. +Their health, physical and moral, is alike destroyed; they die of +diseases induced by unremitting task-work, by confinement in +the impure atmosphere of crowded rooms, by the particles of +metallic or vegetable dust which they are continually inhaling; +or they live to grow up without decency, without comfort, and +without hope—without morals, without religion, and without +shame; and bring forth <i>slaves</i> like themselves to tread in the +same path of misery."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Again, the same distinguished Englishman says, in +number twenty-six of Espriella's Letters—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The English boast of their liberty, but there is <i>no liberty in +England for the poor</i>. They are no longer sold with the soil, it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +is true; but they cannot quit the soil if there be any probability +or suspicion that age or infirmity may disable them. If, in such +a case, they endeavour to remove to some situation where they +hope more easily to maintain themselves, where work is more +plentiful or provisions cheaper, the overseers are alarmed, the +intruder is apprehended, as if he were a criminal, and sent back +to his own parish. Wherever a pauper dies, that parish must bear +the cost of his funeral. Instances, therefore, have not been +wanting of wretches, in the last stage of disease, having been +hurried away in an open cart, upon straw, and dying upon the +road. Nay, even women, in the very pains of labour, have been +driven out, and have perished by the wayside, because the birthplace +of the child would be its parish!"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The sufferings of the rural labourers—the peasantry +of Great Britain and Ireland—are to be attributed to +the fact that they have no property in the land, and +cannot acquire any. The law of primogeniture, on +which the existence of the British aristocracy depends, +has, as we have already shown, placed the land and +those who labour on it—the soil and the serfs—at the +disposal of a few landed proprietors. The labourers are +not attached to the soil, and bought and sold with it, +as in Russia. The English aristocrat is too cunning to +adopt such a regulation, because it would involve the +necessity of supporting his slaves. They are <i>called</i> +freemen, in order to enable their masters to detach them +from the soil, and drive them forth to starve, when it +suits their convenience, without incurring any legal +penalty for their cruelty, such as the slaveholders of +other countries would suffer. The Russian, the Spanish, +the North American slaveholder must support his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +slaves in sickness and helpless old age, or suffer the +penalties of the law for his neglect. The British slaveholder +alone may drive his slaves forth to starve in the +highway by hundreds and thousands; and no law of +Great Britain affords the means of punishing him for +his murderous cruelty. His Irish slaves may be saved +from starvation by American bounty, but he cannot be +punished until he shall meet his Judge at the day of +final account.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">SLAVERY IN THE BRITISH MINES.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">In</span> proceeding to speak more particularly of the +various forms of British slavery, we will begin with +labour in the mines—the horrors of which became +known to the world through reports made to Parliament +in the summer of 1840. Pressed by the fear of general +execration, Parliament appointed a commission of inquiry, +which, after a thorough examination of all the +mines in the United Kingdom, made a voluminous report. +So shocking were the accounts of labour in the +mines given by this commission, that the delicate nerves +of several perfumed lords were grievously pained, and +they denounced the commissioners as being guilty of +exaggeration. Nevertheless, the evidence adduced by +the officers was unimpeachable, and their statements +were generally received as plain truth.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_028.jpg" id="i_028.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_028.jpg" + alt="" /> + <div class="caption">COAL GETTER AT WORK.</div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">The mining industry of the kingdom is divided into +two distinct branches—that of the coal and iron mines, +and that of the mines of tin, copper, lead, and zinc. +The "coal measures," as the geological formations +comprising the strata of coal are designated, are variously +dispersed in the middle, northern, and western +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +portions of South Britain, and in a broad belt of country +which traverses the centre of Scotland, from the +shores of Ayrshire to those of the Firth of Forth. +There are, also, some coal-tracts in Ireland, but they +are of comparatively small importance. In all these +districts, the coal is found in beds, interstratified for +the most part with various qualities of gritstone and +shale, in which, in some of the districts, occur layers +of ironstone, generally thin, but sometimes forming +large masses, as in the Forest of Dean. When the +surface of the coal country is mountainous and intersected +by deep ravines, as in South Wales, the mineral +deposites are approached by holes driven into the sides +of the hills; but the common access to them is by vertical +shafts, or well-holes, from the bottoms of which +horizontal roadways are extended in long and confined +passages through the coal strata, to bring all that is +hewn to the "pit's eye," or bottom of the shaft, for +winding up. It is requisite to have more than one +shaft in the same workings; but where the coal lies so +deep that the sinking of a distinct shaft requires an +enormous outlay of capital, only one large shaft is +sunk; and this is divided by wooden partitions, or +brattices, into several distinct channels. There must +always be one shaft or channel, called the "downcast +pit," for the air to descend; and another, called the +"upcast pit," for the return draught to ascend. The +apparatus for lowering and drawing up is generally in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +the upcast shaft. This is either a steam-engine, a +horse-gin, or a hand-crank. The thickness of the +seams that are wrought varies from the eighteen-inch +seams of the Lancashire and Yorkshire hills, to the ten-yard +coal of South Staffordshire. But two, three, and +four feet are the more common thicknesses of the beds +that are wrought. When there is a good roof, or hard +rock immediately over the coal, with a tolerably solid +floor beneath it, thin coal-seams can be worked with +advantage, because the outlay of capital for propping +is then very limited; but the very hardness of the contiguous +strata would require an outlay almost as great +to make the roadways of a proper height for human +beings of any age to work in.</p> + +<p class="i1">By the evidence collected under the commission, it is +proved that there are coal-mines at present at work in +which some passages are so small, that even the youngest +children cannot move along them without crawling on +their hands and feet, in which constrained position they +drag the loaded carriages after them; and yet, as it is +impossible by any outlay compatible with a profitable +return, to render such coal-mines fit for human beings +to work in, they never will be placed in such a condition, +and, consequently, they never can be worked +without this child slavery! When the roads are six +feet high and upward, there is not only ample space +for carrying on the general operations of the mine, but +the coals can be drawn direct from the workings to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +foot of the shaft by the largest horses; and when the +main roads are four feet and a half high, the coals may +be conveyed to the foot of the shaft by ponies or asses. +But when the main ways are under four feet, the coals +can only be conveyed by children. Yet, in many mines, +the main gates are only from twenty-four to thirty +inches high. In this case, even the youngest children +must work in a bent position of the body. When the +inclination of the strata causes all the workings out of +the main ways to be on inclined plains, the young +labourers are not only almost worked to death, but exposed +to severe accidents in descending the plains with +their loads, out of one level into another. In many of +the mines, there is such a want of drainage and ventilation, +that fatal diseases are contracted by the miners.</p> + +<p class="i1">According to the report of the Parliamentary commission, +about one-third of the persons employed in the +coal-mines were under eighteen years of age, and much +more than one-third of this number were under thirteen +years of age. When the proprietor employs the whole +of the hands, not only will his general overseer be a +respectable person, but his underlookers will be taken +from the more honest, intelligent, and industrious of +the labouring colliers. Elsewhere, the rulers in pits +are such as the rudest class is likely to produce. The +great body of the children and young persons are, +however, of the families of the adult work-people employed +in the pits, or belong to the poor population of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +the neighbourhood. But, in some districts, there are +numerous defenceless creatures who pass the whole of +their youth in the most abject slavery, into which they +are thrown chiefly by parish authorities, under the +name of apprenticeship. Said the Parliamentary commissioners +in their report—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"There is one mode of engaging the labour of children and +young persons in coal-mines, peculiar to a few districts, which +deserves particular notice, viz. that by apprenticeship. The +district in which the practice of employing apprentices is most in +use, is South Staffordshire; it was formerly common in Shropshire, +but is now discontinued; it is still common in Yorkshire, +Lancashire, and the West of Scotland; in all the other districts, it +appears to be unknown. In Staffordshire, the sub-commissioner +states that the number of children and young persons working in +the mines as apprentices is exceedingly numerous; that these +apprentices are paupers or orphans, and are wholly in the power +of the butties;<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> +that such is the demand for this class of children +by the butties, that there are scarcely any boys in the union +workhouses of Walsall, Wolverhampton, Dudley, and Stourbridge; +that these boys are sent on trial to the butties between the ages +of eight and nine, and at nine are bound as apprentices for twelve +years, that is, to the age of twenty-one years complete; that, notwithstanding +this long apprenticeship, there is nothing whatever +in the coal-mines to learn beyond a little dexterity, readily acquired +by short practice; and that even in the mines of Cornwall, +where much skill and judgment is required, there are no apprentices, +while, in the coal-mines of South Staffordshire, the orphan +whom necessity has driven into a workhouse, is made to labour +in the mines until the age of twenty-one, solely for the benefit of +another."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Thomas Moorhouse, a collier boy, who was brought +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +to the notice of the Parliamentary commissioners, +said—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"I don't know how old I am; father is dead; I am a chance +child; mother is dead also; I don't know how long she has been +dead; 'tis better na three years; I began to hurry<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> when I was +nine years old for William Greenwood; I was apprenticed to him +till I should be twenty-one; my mother apprenticed me; I lived +with Greenwood; I don't know how long it was, but it was a +goodish while; he was bound to find me in victuals and drink +and clothes; I never had enough; he gave me some old clothes +to wear, which he bought at the rag-shop; the overseers gave him +a sovereign to buy clothes with, but he never laid it out; the +overseers bound me out with mother's consent from the township +of Southowram; I ran away from him because he lost my indentures, +for he served me very bad; he stuck a pick into me twice."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Here the boy was made to strip, and the commissioner, +Mr. Symonds, found a large cicatrix likely to +have been occasioned by such an instrument, which +must have passed through the glutei muscles, and have +stopped only short of the hip-joint. There were twenty +other wounds, occasioned by hurrying in low workings, +upon and around the spinous processes of the vertebræ, +from the sacrum upward. The boy continued—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"He used to hit me with the belt, and mawl or sledge, and +fling coals at me. He served me so bad that I left him, and went +about to see if I could get a job. I used to sleep in the cabins +upon the pit's bank, and in the old pits that had done working. +I laid upon the shale all night. I used to get what I could to +eat. I ate for a long time the candles that I found in the pits +that the colliers left over night. I had nothing else to eat. I +looked about for work, and begged of the people a bit. I got to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +Bradford after a while, and had a job there for a month while a +collier's lad was poorly. When he came back, I was obliged to +leave."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Another case was related by Mr. Kennedy, one of +the commissioners. A boy, named Edward Kershaw, +had been apprenticed by the overseers of Castleton to +a collier of the name of Robert Brierly, residing at +Balsgate, who worked in a pit in the vicinity of Rooley +Moor. The boy was examined, and from twenty-four +to twenty-six wounds were found upon his body. His +posteriors and loins were beaten to a jelly; his head, +which was almost cleared of hair on the scalp, had the +marks of many old wounds upon it which had healed +up. One of the bones in one arm was broken below +the elbow, and, from appearances, seemed to have been +so for some time. The boy, on being brought before +the magistrates, was unable either to sit or stand, and +was placed on the floor of the office, laid on his side on +a small cradle-bed. It appears from the evidence, that +the boy's arm had been broken by a blow with an iron +rail, and the fracture had never been set, and that he +had been kept at work for several weeks with his arm +in the condition above described. It further appeared +in evidence, and was admitted by Brierly, that he had +been in the habit of beating the boy with a flat piece +of wood, in which a nail was driven and projected about +half an inch. The blows had been inflicted with such +violence that they penetrated the skin, and caused the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +wounds above mentioned. The body of the boy presented +all the marks of emaciation. This brutal master +had kept the boy at work as a wagoner until he was no +longer of any use, and then sent him home in a cart to +his mother, who was a poor widow, residing in Church +lane, Rochdale. And yet it is said that a slave cannot +breathe the air of England!</p> + +<p class="i1">The want of instruction, and the seclusion from the +rest of the world, which is common to the colliers, give +them a sad pre-eminence over every other class of +labourers, in ignorance and callousness; and when they +are made masters, what can be expected? In all cases +of apprenticeship, the children are bound till they +attain the age of twenty-one years. If the master dies +before the apprentice attains the age of twenty-one +years, the apprentice is equally bound as the servant +of his deceased master's heirs, executors, administrators, +and assigns. In fact, the apprentice is part of the +deceased master's goods and chattels!</p> + +<p class="i1">But, to speak more particularly of the labour of the +children:—The employment of the adult collier is almost +exclusively in the "getting" of the coal from its +natural resting-place, of which there are various methods, +according to the nature of the seams and the +habits of the several districts. That of the children +and young persons consists principally either in tending +the air-doors where the coal-carriages must pass through +openings, the immediately subsequent stoppage of which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +is necessary to preserve the ventilation in its proper +channels, or in the conveyance of the coal from the +bays or recesses in which it is hewn, along the subterranean +roadways, to the bottom of the pit-shaft; a +distance varying from absolute contiguity even to miles, +in the great coal-fields of the North of England, where +the depth requires that the same expensive shaft shall +serve for the excavation of a large tract of coal. The +earliest employment of children in the pits is generally +to open and shut the doors, upon the proper custody of +which the ventilation and safety of the whole mine +depends. These little workmen are called "trappers." +Of the manner in which they pass their earlier days, +Dr. Mitchell, a distinguished Englishman, has given a +very interesting sketch, which deserves to be quoted +here entire:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The little trapper, of eight years of age, lies quiet in bed. It +is now between two and three in the morning, and his mother +shakes him and desires him to rise, and tells him that his father +has an hour ago gone off to the pit. He turns on his side, rubs +his eyes, and gets up, and comes to the blazing fire and puts on +his clothes. His coffee, such as it is, stands by the side of the +fire, and bread is laid down for him. The fortnight is now well +advanced, the money all spent, and butter, bacon, and other +luxurious accompaniments of bread, are not to be had at breakfast +till next pay-day supply the means. He then fills his tin +bottle with coffee and takes a lump of bread, sets out for the pit, +into which he goes down in the cage, and walking along the +horse-way for upward of a mile, he reaches the barrow-way, over +which the young men and boys push the trams with the tubs on +rails to the flats, where the barrow-way and horse-way meet, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +where the tubs are transferred to rolleys or carriages drawn by +horses.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_036.jpg" id="i_036.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_036.jpg" + alt="" /> + <div class="caption">THRUSTERS AND TRAPPER.</div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">"He knows his place of work. It is inside one of the doors +called trap-doors, which is in the barrow-way, for the purpose of +forcing the stream of air which passes in its long, many-miled +course from the down-shaft to the up-shaft of the pit; but which +door must be opened whenever men or boys, with or without carriages, +may wish to pass through. He seats himself in a little +hole, about the size of a common fireplace, and with the string in +his hand; and all his work is to pull that string when he has to +open the door, and when man or boy has passed through, then +to allow the door to shut of itself. Here it is his duty to sit, and +be attentive, and pull his string promptly as any one approaches. +He may not stir above a dozen steps with safety from his charge, +lest he should be found neglecting his duty, and suffer for the +same.</p> + +<p class="i1">"He sits solitary by himself, and has no one to talk to him; +for in the pit the whole of the people, men and boys, are as busy +as if they were in a sea-fight. He, however, sees now and then +the putters urging forward their trams through his gate, and +derives some consolation from the glimmer of the little candle of +about 40 to the pound, which is fixed on their trams. For he +himself has no light. His hours, except at such times, are passed +in total darkness. For the first week of his service in the pit +his father had allowed him candles to light one after another, +but the expense of three halfpence a day was so extravagant +expenditure out of tenpence, the boy's daily wages, that his +father, of course, withdrew the allowance the second week, all +except one or two candles in the morning, and the week after the +allowance was altogether taken away; and now, except a neighbour +kinder than his father now and then drop him a candle as +he passes, the boy has no light of his own.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Thus hour after hour passes away; but what are hours to +him, seated in darkness, in the bowels of the earth? He knows +nothing of the ascending or descending sun. Hunger, however, +though silent and unseen, acts upon him, and he betakes to his +bottle of coffee and slice of bread; and, if desirous, he may have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +the luxury of softening it in a portion of water in the pit, which +is brought down for man and beast.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In this state of sepulchral existence, an insidious enemy gains +upon him. His eyes are shut, and his ears fail to announce the +approach of a tram. A deputy overman comes along, and a +smart cut of his yardwand at once punishes the culprit and recalls +him to his duty; and happy was it for him that he fell into +the hands of the deputy overman, rather than one of the putters; +for his fist would have inflicted a severer pain. The deputy +overman moreover consoles him by telling him that it was for his +good that he punished him; and reminds him of boys, well known +to both, who, when asleep, had fallen down, and some had been +severely wounded, and others killed. The little trapper believes +that he is to blame, and makes no complaint, for he dreads being +discharged; and he knows that his discharge would be attended +with the loss of wages, and bring upon him the indignation of +his father, more terrible to endure than the momentary vengeance +of the deputy and the putters all taken together.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Such is the day-work of the little trapper in the barrow-way.</p> + +<p class="i1">"At last, the joyful sound of 'Loose, loose,' reaches his ears. +The news of its being four o'clock, and of the order, 'Loose, loose,' +having been shouted down the shaft, is by systematic arrangement +sent for many miles in all directions round the farthest +extremities of the pit. The trapper waits until the last putter +passes with his tram, and then he follows and pursues his journey +to the foot of the shaft, and takes an opportunity of getting into +the cage and going up when he can. By five o'clock he may +probably get home. Here he finds a warm dinner, baked potatoes, +and broiled bacon lying above them. He eats heartily at the +warm fire, and sits a little after. He dare not go out to play +with other boys, for the more he plays the more he is sure to +sleep the next day in the pit. He, therefore, remains at home, +until, feeling drowsy, he then repeats the prayer taught by our +blessed Lord, takes off his clothes, is thoroughly washed in hot +water by his mother, and is laid in his bed."</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_038.jpg" id="i_038.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_038.jpg" + alt="" /> + <div class="caption">HURRIER AND THRUSTER.</div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">The evidence of the Parliamentary commissioners +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +proves that Dr. Mitchell has given the life of the young +trapper a somewhat softened colouring. Mr. Scriven +states that the children employed in this way become +almost idiotic from the long, dark, solitary confinement. +Many of them never see the light of day during the +winter season, except on Sundays.</p> + +<p class="i1">The loaded corves drawn by the hurriers weigh from +two to five hundred-weight. These carriages are mounted +upon four cast-iron wheels of five inches in diameter, +there being, in general, no rails from the headings to the +main gates. The children have to drag these carriages +through passages in some cases not more than from +sixteen to twenty inches in height. Of course, to accomplish +this, the young children must crawl on their +hands and feet. To render their labour the more easy, +the sub-commissioner states that they buckle round +their naked person a broad leather strap, to which is +attached in front a ring and about four feet of chain, +terminating in a hook. As soon as they enter the main +gates, they detach the harness from the corve, change +their position by getting behind it, and become "thrusters." +The carriage is then placed upon the rail, a +candle is stuck fast by a piece of wet clay, and away +they run with amazing swiftness to the shaft, pushing +the loads with their heads and hands. The younger +children thrust in pairs.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"After trapping," says the report of the commissioners, "the +next labour in the ascending scale to which the children are put, is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +'thrutching,' or thrusting, which consists in being helper to a +'drawer,' or 'wagoner,' who is master, or 'butty,' over the +'thrutcher,' In some pits, the thrutcher has his head protected +by a thick cap, and he will keep on his trousers and clogs; but +in others, he works nearly naked. The size of the loads which +he has to thrutch varies with the thickness of the seam; and with +the size, varies his butty's method of proceeding, which is either +as a drawer or a wagoner. The drawers are those who use the +belt and chain. Their labour consists in loading, with the coals +hewn down by the 'getter,' an oblong tub without wheels, and +dragging this tub on its sledge bottom by means of a girdle of +rough leather passing round the body, and a chain of iron attached +to that girdle in front, and hooked to the sledge. The drawer +has, with the aid of his thrutcher, to sledge the tub in this manner +from the place of getting to the mainway, generally down, +though sometimes up, a brow or incline of the same steepness as +the inclination of the strata; in descending which he goes to the +front of his tub, where his light is fixed, and, turning his face to +it, regulates its motion down the hill, as, proceeding back foremost, +he pulls it along by his belt. When he gets to the mainway, +which will be at various distances not exceeding forty or +fifty yards from his loading-place, he has to leave this tub upon a +low truck running on small iron wheels, and then to go and fetch +a second, which will complete its load, and with these two to +join with his thrutcher in pushing it along the iron railway to +the pit bottom to have the tubs successively hooked on to the +drawing-rope. Returning with his tubs empty, he leaves the +mainway, first with one, and then with the other tub, to get +them loaded, dragging them up the 'brow' by his belt and chain, +the latter of which he now passes between his legs, so as to pull, +face foremost, on all fours. In the thin seams, this labour has +to be performed in bays, leading from the place of getting to the +mainways, of scarcely more than twenty inches in height, and in +mainways of only two feet six inches, and three feet high, for the +seam itself will only be eighteen inches thick.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Wagoning is a form of drawing which comes into use with +the more extensive employment of railways in the thicker seams +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>. +The tubs here used are large, and all mounted on wheels. From +the place of getting, the loads are pushed by the wagoners with +hands and heads to the bottom of the pit along the levels; and +where they have to descend from one level into another, this is +generally done by a cut at right angles directly with the dip, +down the 'brow' which it makes. Here there is a winch or +pinion for jigging the wagons down the incline, with a jigger at +the top and a hooker-on at the bottom of the plane, where it is +such as to require these. The jiggers and the hookers-on are +children of twelve or thirteen. Sometimes the descent from one +line of level into another is by a diagonal cutting at a small +angle from the levels, called a slant, down which the wagoners +can, and do, in some instances, take their wagons without jigging, +by their own manual labour; and a very rough process it is, +owing to the impetus which so great a weight acquires, notwithstanding +the scotching of the wheels."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Kennedy thus describes the position of the children, +in the combined drawing and thrutching:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The child in front is harnessed by his belt or chain to the +wagon; the two boys behind are assisting in pushing it forward. +Their heads, it will be observed, are brought down to a level with +the wagon, and the body almost in the horizontal position. This +is done partly to avoid striking the roof, and partly to gain the +advantage of the muscular action, which is greatest in that position. +It will be observed, the boy in front goes on his hands and +feet: in that manner, the whole weight of his body is, in fact, +supported by the chain attached to the wagon and his feet, and, +consequently, his power of drawing is greater than it would be +if he crawled on his knees. These boys, by constantly pushing +against the wagons, occasionally rub off the hair from the crowns +of their heads so much as to make them almost bald."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In Derbyshire, some of the pits are altogether worked +by boys. The seams are so thin, that several have +only a two-feet headway to all the workings. The boy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +who gets the coal, lies on his side while at work. The +coal is then loaded in a barrow, or tub, and drawn +along the bank to the pit mouth by boys from eight to +twelve years of age, on all fours, with a dog-belt and +chain, the passages being very often an inch or two +thick in black mud, and neither ironed nor wooded. +In Mr. Barnes's pit, these boys have to drag the barrows +with one hundred-weight of coal or slack, sixty times a +day, sixty yards, and the empty barrows back, without +once straightening their backs, unless they choose to +stand under the shaft and run the risk of having their +heads broken by coal falling.</p> + +<p class="i1">In some of the mines, the space of the workings is +so small that the adult colliers are compelled to carry +on their operations in a stooping posture; and, in others, +they are obliged to work lying their whole length along +the uneven floor, and supporting their heads upon a +board or short crutch. In these low, dark, heated, +and dismal chambers, they work perfectly naked. In +many of the thin-seam mines, the labour of "getting" +coal, so severe for adults, was found by the commissioners +to be put upon children from nine to twelve +years of age.</p> + +<p class="i1">If the employment of boys in such a way be, as a +miner said to the commissioners, "barbarity, barbarity," +what are we to think of the slavery of female children +in the same abyss of darkness? How shall we express +our feelings upon learning that females, in the years +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +of opening womanhood, are engaged in the same occupations +as their male companions, in circumstances +repugnant to the crudest sense of decency? Yet we +have unimpeachable evidence that, at the time of the +investigations of the commissioners, females were thus +employed; and there is reason to believe that this is +still the case.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_042.jpg" id="i_042.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_042.jpg" + alt="" /> + <div class="caption">COAL GETTER.</div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">The commissioners found females employed like the +males in the labours of the mines in districts of Yorkshire +and Lancashire, in the East of Scotland, and in +Wales. In great numbers of the pits visited, the men +were working in a state of entire nakedness, and were +assisted by females of all ages, from girls of six years +old to women of twenty-one—these females being +themselves quite naked down to the waist. Mr. +Thomas Pearce says that in the West Riding of Yorkshire—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The girls hurry with a belt and chain, as well as thrust. +There are as many girls as boys employed about here. One of +the most disgusting sights I have ever seen, was that of young +females, dressed like boys in trousers, crawling on all fours, with +belts around their waists and chains passing between their legs, +at day-pits at Thurshelf Bank, and in many small pits near +Holmfirth and New Mills. It exists also in several other places."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In the neighbourhood of Halifax, it is stated that +there is no distinction whatever between the boys and +girls in their coming up the shaft and going down; in +their mode of hurrying or thrusting; in the weight of +corves; in the distance they are hurried; in wages or +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +dress; that the girls associate and labour with men who +are in a state of nakedness, and that they have themselves +no other garment than a ragged shift, or, in the +absence of that, a pair of broken trousers, to cover their +persons.</p> + +<p class="i1">Here are specimens of the evidence taken by the +commissioners:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Susan Pitchforth, aged eleven, Elland: 'I have worked in +this pit going two years. I have one sister going of fourteen, +and she works with me in the pit. I am a thruster.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'This child,' said the sub-commissioner, 'stood shivering +before me from cold. The rags that hung about her waist were +once called a shift, which was as black as the coal she thrust, +and saturated with water—the drippings of the roof and shaft. +During my examination of her, the banksman, whom I had left +in the pit, came to the public-house and wanted to take her away, +because, as he expressed himself, it was not decent that she +should be exposed to us.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Patience Kershaw, aged seventeen: 'I hurry in the clothes +I have now got on, (trousers and ragged jacket;) the bald place +upon my head is made by thrusting the corves; the getters I +work for are naked except their caps; they pull off their clothes; +all the men are naked.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mary Barrett, aged fourteen: 'I work always without stockings, +or shoes, or trousers; I wear nothing but my shift; I have +to go up to the headings with the men; they are all naked there; +I am got well used to that, and don't care much about it; I was +afraid at first, and did not like it.'"</p> + +<p class="i1">In the Lancashire coal-fields lying to the north and west of +Manchester, females are regularly employed in underground +labour; and the brutal policy of the men, and the abasement of +the women, is well described by some of the witnesses examined +by Mr. Kennedy.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Peter Gaskill, collier, at Mr. Lancaster's, near Worsley: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +'Prefers women to boys as drawers; they are better to manage, +and keep the time better; they will fight and shriek and do every +thing but let anybody pass them; and they never get to be coal-getters—that +is another good thing.'</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_045.jpg" id="i_045.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_045.jpg" + alt="" /> + <div class="caption">GIRL WITH COAL CART IN THIN SEAM.</div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">"Betty Harris, aged thirty-seven, drawer in a coal-pit, Little +Bolton: 'I have a belt round my waist and a chain passing between +my legs, and I go on my hands and feet. The road is very +steep, and we have to hold by a rope, and when there is no rope, +by any thing we can catch hold of. There are six women and +about six boys and girls in the pit I work in; it is very hard +work for a woman. The pit is very wet where I work, and the +water comes over our clog-tops always, and I have seen it up to +my thighs; it rains in at the roof terribly; my clothes are wet +through almost all day long. I never was ill in my life but +when I was lying-in. My cousin looks after my children in the +daytime. I am very tired when I get home at night; I fall asleep +sometimes before I get washed. I am not so strong as I was, +and cannot stand my work so well as I used to do. I have drawn +till I have had the skin off me. The belt and chain is worse when +we are in the family-way. My feller (husband) has beaten me +many a time for not being ready. I were not used to it at first, +and he had little patience; I have known many a man beat his +drawer.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mary Glover, aged thirty-eight, at Messrs. Foster's, Ringley +Bridge: 'I went into a coal-pit when I was seven years old, and +began by being a drawer. I never worked much in the pit when +I was in the family-way, but since I have gave up having children, +I have begun again a bit. I wear a shift and a pair of +trousers when at work. I always will have a good pair of trousers. +I have had many a twopence given me by the boatmen on +the canal to show my breeches. I never saw women work naked, +but I have seen men work without breeches in the neighbourhood +of Bolton. I remember seeing a man who worked stark naked.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In the East of Scotland, the business of the females +is to remove the coals from the hewer who has picked +them from the wall-face, and placing them either on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +their backs, which they invariably do when working in +edge-seams, or in <i>little carts</i> when on levels, to carry +them to the main road, where they are conveyed to the +pit bottom, where, being emptied into the ascending +basket of the shaft, they are wound by machinery to +the pit's mouth, where they lie heaped for further distribution. +Mr. Franks, an Englishman, says of this +barbarous toil—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Now when the nature of this horrible labour is taken into +consideration; its extreme severity; its regular duration of from +twelve to fourteen hours daily; the damp, heated, and unwholesome +atmosphere of a coal-mine, and the tender age and sex of +the workers, a picture is presented of deadly physical oppression +and systematic slavery, of which I conscientiously believe no one +unacquainted with such facts would credit the existence in the +British dominions."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The loads of coal carried on the backs of females +vary in weight from three-quarters of a hundred-weight +to three hundred-weight. In working edge-seams, or +highly inclined beds, the load must be borne to the +surface, or to the pit-bottom, up winding stairs, or a +succession of steep ladders. The disgrace of this peculiar +form of oppression is said to be confined to +Scotland, "where, until nearly the close of the last +century, the colliers remained in a state of legal bondage, +and formed a degraded caste, apart from all humanizing +influences and sympathy." From all accounts, +they are not much improved in condition at the present +time.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">A sub-commissioner thus describes a female child's +labour in a Scottish mine, and gives some of the evidence +he obtained:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"She has first to descend a nine-ladder pit to the first rest, +even to which a shaft is sunk, to draw up the baskets or tubs of +coals filled by the bearers; she then takes her creel (a basket +formed to the back, not unlike a cockle-shell, flattened toward +the back of the neck, so as to allow lumps of coal to rest on the +back of the neck and shoulders,) and pursues her journey to the +wall-face, or, as it is called here, the room of work. She then +lays down her basket, into which the coal is rolled, and it is frequently +more than one man can do to lift the burden on her back. +The tugs or straps are placed over the forehead, and the body +bent in a semicircular form, in order to stiffen the arch. Large +lumps of coal are then placed on the neck, and she then commences +her journey with her burden to the bottom, first hanging +her lamp to the cloth crossing her head. In this girl's case, she +has first to travel about fourteen fathoms (eighty-four feet) from +wall-face to the first ladder, which is eighteen feet high; leaving +the first ladder, she proceeds along the main road, probably three +feet six inches to four feet six inches high, to the second ladder, +eighteen feet high; so on to the third and fourth ladders, till she +reaches the pit-bottom, where she casts her load, varying from +one hundred-weight to one hundred-weight and a half, in the tub. +This one journey is designated a rake; the height ascended, and +the distance along the roads added together, exceed the height of +St. Paul's Cathedral; and it not unfrequently happens that the +tugs break, and the load falls upon those females who are following. +However incredible it may be, yet I have taken the evidence +of fathers who have ruptured themselves from straining to +lift coal on their children's backs.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Janet Cumming, eleven years old, bears coals: 'I gang with +the women at five, and come up with the women at five at night; +work <i>all night</i> on Fridays, and come away at twelve in the day. +I carry the large bits of coal from the wall-face to the pit-bottom, +and the small pieces called chows in a creel. The weight is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +usually a hundred-weight, does not know how many pounds +there are in a hundred-weight, but it is some weight to carry; it +takes three journeys to fill a tub of four hundred-weight. The +distance varies, as the work is not always on the same wall; +sometimes one hundred and fifty fathoms, whiles two hundred +and fifty fathoms. The roof is very low; I have to bend my back +and legs, and the water comes frequently up to the calves of my +legs. Has no liking for the work; father makes me like it. +Never got hurt, but often obliged to scramble out of the pit when +bad air was in.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"William Hunter, mining oversman, Arniston Colliery: 'I +have been twenty years in the works of Robert Dundas, Esq., +and had much experience in the manner of drawing coal, as well +as the habits and practices of the collier people. Until the last +eight months, women and lasses were wrought below in these +works, when Mr. Alexander Maxton, our manager, issued an +order to exclude them from going below, having some months +prior given intimation of the same. Women always did the +lifting or heavy part of the work, and neither they nor the children +were treated like human beings, nor are they where they +are employed. Females submit to work in places where no man +or even lad could be got to labour in; they work in bad roads, +up to their knees in water, in a posture nearly double; they are +below till the last hour of pregnancy; they have swelled haunches +and ankles, and are prematurely brought to the grave, or, what +is worse, lingering existence. Many of the daughters of the +miners are now at respectable service. I have two who are in +families at Leith, and who are much delighted with the change.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Robert Bald, Esq., the eminent coal-viewer, states that, 'In +surveying the workings of an extensive colliery under ground, a +married woman came forward, groaning under an excessive +weight of coals, trembling in every nerve, and almost unable to +keep her knees from sinking under her. On coming up, she +said, in a plaintive and melancholy voice, "Oh, sir, this is sore, +sore, sore work. I wish to God that the first woman who tried +to bear coals had broke her back, and none would have tried it +again."</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">The boxes or carriages employed in putting are of +two kinds—the hutchie and the slype; the hutchie being +an oblong, square-sided box with four wheels, which +usually runs on a rail; and the slype a wood-framed +box, curved and shod with iron at the bottom, holding +from two and a quarter to five hundred-weight of coal, +adapted to the seams through which it is dragged. The +lad or lass is harnessed over the shoulders and back +with a strong leathern girth, which, behind, is furnished +with an iron-hook, which is attached to a chain fastened +to the coal-cart or slype. The dresses of these girls +are made of coarse hempen stuff, fitting close to the +figures; the coverings to their heads are made of the +same material. Little or no flannel is used, and their +clothing, being of an absorbent nature, frequently gets +completely saturated shortly after descending the pit. +We quote more of the evidence obtained by the commissioners. +It scarcely needs any comment:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Margaret Hipps, seventeen years old, putter, Stoney Rigg +Colliery, Stirlingshire: 'My employment, after reaching the +wall-face, is to fill my bagie, or slype, with two and a half to +three hundred-weight of coal. I then hook it on to my chain and +drag it through the seam, which is twenty-six to twenty-eight inches +high, till I get to the main road—a good distance, probably two +hundred to four hundred yards. The pavement I drag over is +wet, and I am obliged at all times to crawl on hands and feet with +my bagie hung to the chain and ropes. It is sad sweating and +sore fatiguing work, and frequently maims the women.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Sub-commissioner: 'It is almost incredible that human beings +can submit to such employment, crawling on hands and knees, +harnessed like horses, over soft, slushy floors, more difficult than +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +dragging the same weights through our lowest common sewers, +and more difficult in consequence of the inclination, which is frequently +one in three to one in six.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Agnes Moffatt, seventeen years old, coal-bearer: 'Began +working at ten years of age; father took sister and I down; he +gets our wages. I fill five baskets; the weight is more than +twenty-two hundred-weight; it takes me twenty journeys. The +work is o'er sair for females. It is no uncommon for women to +lose their burden, and drop off the ladder down the dyke below; +Margaret McNeil did a few weeks since, and injured both legs. +When the tugs which pass over the forehead break, which they +frequently do, it is very dangerous to be under with a load.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Margaret Jacques, seventeen years of age, coal-bearer: 'I +have been seven years at coal-bearing; it is horrible sore work; +it was not my choice, but we do our parents' will. I make thirty +rakes a day, with two hundred-weight of coal on my creel. It is +a guid distance I journey, and very dangerous on parts of the +road. The distance fast increases as the coals are cut down.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Helen Reid, sixteen years old, coal-bearer: 'I have wrought +five years in the mines in this part; my employment is carrying +coal. Am frequently worked from four in the morning until six +at night. I work night-work week about, (alternate weeks.) I +then go down at two in the day, and come up at four and six in +the morning. I can carry near two hundred-weight <i>on</i> my back. +I do not like the work. Two years since the pit closed upon +thirteen of us, and we were two days without food or light; nearly +one day we were up to our chins in water. At last we got to an +old shaft, to which we picked our way, and were heard by +people watching above. Two months ago, I was filling the tubs +at the pit bottom, when the gig clicked too early, and the hook +caught me by my pit-clothes—the people did not hear my shrieks—my +hand had fast grappled the chain, and the great height of +the shaft caused me to lose my courage, and I swooned. The +banksman could scarcely remove my hand—the deadly grasp +saved my life.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Margaret Drysdale, fifteen years old, coal-putter: 'I don't +like the work, but mother is dead, and father brought me down; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +I had no choice. The lasses will tell you that they all like the +work fine, as they think you are going to take them out of the +pits. My employment is to draw the carts. I have harness, or +draw-ropes on, like the horses, and pull the carts. Large carts +hold seven hundred-weight and a half, the smaller five hundred-weight +and a half. The roads are wet, and I have to draw the +work about one hundred fathoms.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Katherine Logan, sixteen years old, coal-putter: 'Began to +work at coal-carrying more than five years since; works in harness +now; draw backward with face to tubs; the ropes and +chains go under my pit-clothes; it is o'er sair work, especially +where we crawl.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Janet Duncan, seventeen years old, coal-putter: 'Works at +putting, and was a coal-bearer at Hen-Muir Pit and New Pencaitland. +The carts I push contain three hundred-weight of coal, +being a load and a half; it is very severe work, especially when +we have to stay before the tubs, on the braes, to prevent them +coming down too fast; they frequently run too quick, and knock +us down; when they run over fast, we fly off the roads and let them +go, or we should be crushed. Mary Peacock was severely crushed +a fortnight since; is gradually recovering. I have wrought above +in harvest time; it is the only other work that ever I tried my +hand at, and having harvested for three seasons, am able to say +that the hardest daylight work is infinitely superior to the best +of coal-work.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Jane Wood, wife of James Wood, formerly a coal-drawer and +bearer: 'Worked below more than thirty years. I have two +daughters below, who really hate the employment, and often +prayed to leave, but we canna do well without them just now. +The severe work causes women much trouble; they frequently +have premature births. Jenny McDonald, a neighbour, was laid +idle six months; and William King's wife lately died from miscarriage, +and a vast of women suffer from similar causes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Margaret Boxter, fifty years old, coal-hewer: 'I hew the +coal; have done so since my husband failed in his breath; he has +been off work twelve years. I have a son, daughter, and niece +working with me below, and we have sore work to get maintenance. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +I go down early to hew the coal for my girls to draw; +my son hews also. The work is not fit for women, and men +could prevent it were they to labour more regular; indeed, men +about this place don't wish wives to work in mines, but the +masters seem to encourage it—at any rate, the masters never +interfere to prevent it.'"</p> + +<p class="i1">"The different kinds of work to which females are put in South +Wales, are described in the following evidence:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"Henrietta Frankland, eleven years old, drammer: 'When +well, I draw the drams, (carts,) which contain four to five hundred-weight +of coal, from the heads to the main road; I make +forty-eight to fifty journeys; sister, who is two years older, works +also at dramming; the work is very hard, and the long hours +before the pay-day fatigue us much. The mine is wet where we +work, as the water passes through the roof, and the workings are +only thirty to thirty-three inches high.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mary Reed, twelve years old, air-door keeper: 'Been five +years in the Plymouth mine. Never leaves till the last dram +(cart) is drawn past by the horse. Works from six till four or +five at night. Has run home very hungry; runs along the level +or hangs on a cart as it passes. Does not like the work in the +dark; would not mind the daylight work.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Hannah Bowen, sixteen years old, windlass-woman: 'Been +down two years; it is good hard work; work from seven in the +morning till three or four in the afternoon at hauling the windlass. +Can draw up four hundred loads of one hundred-weight +and a half to four hundred-weight each.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Ann Thomas, sixteen years old, windlass-woman: 'Finds +the work very hard; two women always work the windlass +below ground. We wind up eight hundred loads. Men do not +like the winding, <i>it is too hard work for them</i>.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The commissioners ascertained that when the work-people +were in full employment, the regular hours for +children and young persons were rarely less than +eleven; more often they were twelve; in some districts, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +they are thirteen; and, in one district, they are generally +fourteen and upward. In Derbyshire, south of +Chesterfield, from thirteen to sixteen hours are considered +a day's work. Of the exhausting effects of such +labour for so long a time, we shall scarcely need any +particular evidence. But one boy, named John Bostock, +told the commissioners that he had often been +made to work until he was so tired as to lie down on +his road home until twelve o'clock, when his mother +had come and led him home; and that he had sometimes +been so tired that he could not eat his dinner, +but had been beaten and made to work until night. +Many other cases are recorded:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"John Rawson, collier, aged forty: 'I work at Mr. Sorby's +pit, Handsworth. I think the children are worked overmuch +sometimes.'—<i>Report</i>, No. 81, p. 243, 1. 25.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Peter Waring, collier, Billingby: 'I never should like my +children to go in. They are not beaten; it is the work that hurts +them; it is mere slavery, and nothing but it.'—Ibid. No. 125, +p. 256, 1. 6.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Hargreave, collier, Thorpe's Colliery: 'Hurrying is +heavy work for children. They ought not to work till they are +twelve years old, and then put two together for heavy corves.'—Ibid. +No. 130, p. 256, 1. 44.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Timothy Marshall, collier, aged thirty-five, Darton: 'I +think the hurrying is what hurts girls, and it is too hard work +for their strength; I think that children cannot be educated after +they once get to work in pits; they are both tired and even disinclined +to learn when they have done work.'—Ibid. No. 141, p. +262, 1. 39.</p> + +<p class="i1">"A collier at Mr. Travis's pit: 'The children get but little +schooling; six or seven out of nine or ten know nothing. They +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +never go to night-schools, except some odd ones. When the +children get home, they cannot go to school, for they have to be +up so early in the morning—soon after four—and they cannot do +without rest.'—Ibid. No. 94, p. 246, 1. 33.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. George Armitage, aged thirty-six, formerly collier at +Silkstone, now teacher at Hayland School: 'Little can be learnt +merely on Sundays, and they are too tired as well as indisposed +to go to night-schools. I am decidedly of opinion that when +trade is good, the work of hurriers is generally continuous; but +when there are two together, perhaps the little one will have a +rest while the big one is filling or riddling.'—Ibid., No. 138, p. +261, 1. 24.</p> + +<p class="i1">"William Firth, between six and seven years old, Deal Wood +Pit, Flockton: 'I hurry with my sister. I don't like to be in pit. +I was crying to go out this morning. It tires me a good deal.'—Ibid. +No. 218, p. 282, 1. 11.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Wright, hurrier in Thorpe's colliery: 'I shall be nine +years old next Whitsuntide. It tires me much. It tires my +arms. I have been two years in the pit, and have been hurrying +all the time. It tries the small of my arms.'—Ibid. No. 129, p. +256, 1. 31.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Daniel Dunchfield: 'I am going in ten; I am more tired in +the forenoon than at night; it makes my back ache; I work all +day the same as the other boys; I rest me when I go home at +night; I never go to play at night; I get my supper and go to bed.'—Ibid. +No. 63, p. 238, 1. 32.</p> + +<p class="i1">"George Glossop, aged twelve: 'I help to fill and hurry, and am +always tired at night when I've done.'—Ibid. No. 50, p. 236, 1. 21.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Martin Stanley: 'I tram by myself, and find it very hard +work. It tires me in my legs and shoulders every day.'—Ibid. +No. 69, p. 240, 1. 27.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Charles Hoyle: 'I was thirteen last January. I work in the +thin coal-pit. I find it very hard work. We work at night one +week, and in the day the other. It tires me very much sometimes. +It tires us most in the legs, especially when we have to +go on our hands and feet. I fill as well as hurry.'—Ibid. No. 78, +p. 242, 1. 41.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Jonathan Clayton, thirteen and a half years old, Soap Work +Colliery, Sheffield: 'Hurrying is very hard work; when I got +home at night, I was knocked up.'—Ibid. No. 6, p. 227, 1. 48.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Andrew Roger, aged seventeen years: 'I work for my father, +who is an undertaker. I get, and have been getting two years. +I find it very hard work indeed; it tires me very much; I can +hardly get washed of a night till nine o'clock, I am so tired.'—Ibid. +No. 60, p. 237, 1. 49.</p> + +<p class="i1">["'This witness,' says the sub-commissioner, 'when examined +in the evening after his work was over, ached so much that he +could not stand upright.']—Ibid. s. 109; App. pt. i. p. 181.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Joseph Reynard, aged nineteen, Mr. Stancliffe's pit, Mirfield: +'I began hurrying when I was nine; I get now; I cannot hurry, +because one leg is shorter than the other. I have had my hip +bad since I was fifteen. I am very tired at nights. I worked in +a wet place to-day. I have worked in places as wet as I have +been in to-day.'</p> + +<p class="i1">["'I examined Joseph Reynard; he has several large abscesses +in his thigh, from hip-joint disease. The thigh-bone is dislocated +from the same cause; the leg is about three inches shorter; two +or three of the abscesses are now discharging. No appearance of +puberty from all the examinations I made. I should not think +him more than eleven or twelve years of age, except from his +teeth. I think him quite unfit to follow any occupation, much +less the one he now occupies.</p> + +<p class="ar"> +Signed, "'<span class="sc">U. Bradbury</span>, Surgeon.'] +</p> + +<p class="i1">"'This case,' says the sub-commissioner, 'is one reflecting the +deepest discredit on his employers.'—<i>Symons, Evidence</i>, No. 272; +App. pt. i. p. 298, 1. 29.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Elizabeth Eggley, sixteen years old: 'I find my work very +much too hard for me. I hurry alone. It tires me in my arms +and back most. I am sure it is very hard work, and tires +us very much; it is too hard work for girls to do. We sometimes +go to sleep before we get to bed.'—Ibid. No. 114, p. 252, +1. 44.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Ann Wilson, aged ten and a half years, Messrs. Smith's +colliery: 'Sometimes the work tires us when we have a good bit +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +to do; it tires we in my back. I hurry by myself. I push with +my head.'—Ibid. No. 229, p. 224, 1. 12.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Elizabeth Day, hurrier, Messrs. Hopwood's pit, Barnsley: +'It is very hard work for us all. It is harder work than we +ought to do, a deal. I have been lamed in my back, and strained +in my back.'—Ibid. No. 80, p. 244, 1. 33.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mary Shaw: 'I am nineteen years old. I hurry in the pit +you were in to-day. I have ever been much tired with my work.'—Ibid. +No. 123, p. 249, 1. 38.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Ann Eggley, hurrier in Messrs. Thorpe's colliery: 'The +work is far too hard for me; the sweat runs off me all over sometimes. +I am very tired at night. Sometimes when we get home +at night, we have not power to wash us, and then we go to bed. +Sometimes we fall asleep in the chair. Father said last night it +was both a shame and a disgrace for girls to work as we do, but +there was nought else for us to do. The girls are always tired.'—Ibid. +No. 113, p. 252, 1. 17.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Elizabeth Coats: 'I hurry with my brother. It tires me a +great deal, and tires my back and arms.'—Ibid. No. 115, p. 252, +1. 59.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Elizabeth Ibbitson, at Mr. Harrison's pit, Gomersel: 'I don't +like being at pit; I push the corf with my head, and it hurts me, +and is sore.'—Ibid. No. 266, p. 292, 1. 17.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Margaret Gomley, Lindley Moor, aged nine: 'Am very tired.'—<i>Scriven, +Evidence</i>, No. 9; App. pt. ii. p. 103, 1. 34.</p> + +<p class="i1">"James Mitchell, aged twelve, Messrs. Holt and Hebblewaite's: +'I am very tired when I get home; it is enough to tire a horse; +and stooping so much makes it bad.'—Ibid. No. 2, p. 101, 1. 32.</p> + +<p class="i1">"William Whittaker, aged sixteen, Mr. Rawson's colliery: 'I +am always very tired when I go home.'—Ibid. No. 13, p. 104, 1. 55.</p> + +<p class="i1">"George Wilkinson, aged thirteen, Low Moor: 'Are you tired +now? Nay. Were you tired then? Yea. What makes the +difference? I can hurry a deal better now.'—<i>W. R. Wood, Esq., +Evidence</i>, No. 18, App. pt. ii. p. <i>h</i> 11, 1. 30.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Stevenson, aged fourteen, Low Moor: 'Has worked in +a coal-pit eight years; went in at six years old; used to rue to +go in; does not rue now; it was very hard when he went in, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +"I were nobbud a right little one." Was not strong enough +when he first went; had better have been a little bigger; used +to be very tired; did not when he first went. I waur ill tired.'—Ibid. +No. 15, p. <i>h</i> 10, 1. 39.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Jabez Scott, aged fifteen, Bowling Iron Works: 'Work is +very hard; sleeps well sometimes; sometimes is very ill tired and +cannot sleep so well.'—Ibid. No. 38, p. <i>h</i> 10, 1. 29.</p> + +<p class="i1">"William Sharpe, Esq., F. R. S., surgeon, Bradford, states: +'That he has for twenty years professionally attended at the Low +Moor Iron Works; that there are occasionally cases of deformity, +and also bad cases of scrofula, apparently induced by the boys +being too early sent into the pits, by their working beyond their +strength, by their constant stooping, and by occasionally working +in water.'"—Ibid. No. 60, p. <i>h</i> 27, 1. 45.</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The statements of the children, as will be seen, are +confirmed by the evidence of the adult work-people, in +which we also find some further developments:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"William Fletcher, aged thirty-three, collier, West Hallam: +'Considers the collier's life a very hard one both for man and +boy, the latter full as hard as the former.'—<i>Report</i>, No. 37, p. +279, 1. 17.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Beasley, collier, aged forty-nine, Shipley: 'He has +known instances where the children have been so overcome with +the work, as to cause them to go off in a decline; he has seen +those who could not get home without their father's assistance, +and have fallen asleep before they could be got to bed; has known +children of six years old sent to the pit, but thinks there are +none at Shipley under seven or eight; it is his opinion a boy is +too weak to stand the hours, even to drive between, until he is +eight or nine years old; the boys go down at six in the morning, +and has known them kept down until nine or ten, until they are +almost ready to exhaust; the children and young persons work +the same hours as the men; the children are obliged to work in +the night if the wagon-road is out of repair, or the water coming +on them; it happens sometimes two or three times in the week; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +they then go down at six <span class="sc">P.M.</span> to six +<span class="sc">A.M.</span>, and have from ten +minutes to half an hour allowed for supper, according to the +work they have to do; they mostly ask the children who +have been at work the previous day to go down with them, +but seldom have to oblige them; when he was a boy, he has +worked for thirty-six hours running many a time, and many +more besides himself have done so.'—Ibid. No. 40, p. 274, 1. 23.</p> + +<p class="i1">"William Wardle, aged forty, Eastwood: 'There is no doubt +colliers are much harder worked than labourers; indeed, it is the +hardest work under heaven.'—Ibid. No. 84, p. 287, 1. 51.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Samuel Richards, aged forty, Awsworth: 'There are Sunday-schools +when they will go; but when boys have been beaten, +knocked about, and covered with sludge all the week, they want +to be in bed to rest all day on Sunday.'—Ibid. No. 166, p. 307, +1. 58.</p> + +<p class="i1">"William Sellers, operative, aged twenty-two, Butterley Company: +'When he first worked in the pit, he has been so tired +that he slept as he walked.'—Ibid. No. 222, p. 319, 1. 35.</p> + +<p class="i1">"William Knighton, aged twenty-four, Denby: 'He remembers +"mony" a time he has dropped asleep with the meat in his +mouth through fatigue; it is those butties—they are the very +devil; they impose upon them in one way, then in another.'—Ibid. +No. 314, p. 334, 1. 42.</p> + +<p class="i1">"—— ——, engine-man, Babbington: 'Has, when working +whole days, often seen the children lie down on the pit-bank and +go to sleep, they were so tired.'—Ibid. No. 137, p. 300, 1. 10.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Attenborough, schoolmaster, Greasley: 'Has observed +that the collier children are more tired and dull than the others, +but equally anxious to learn.'—Ibid. No. 153, p. 304, 1. 122.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Ann Birkin: 'Is mother to Thomas and Jacob, who work in +Messrs. Fenton's pits; they have been so tired after a whole day's +work, that she has at times had to wash them and lift them into +bed.'—Ibid. No. 81, p. 285, 1. 59.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Hannah Neale, Butterley Park: 'They come home so tired +that they become stiff, and can hardly get to bed; Constantine, +the one ten years old, formerly worked in the same pit as his +brothers, but about a half a year since his toe was cut off by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +bind falling; notwithstanding this, the loader made him work +until the end of the day, although in the greatest pain. He was +out of work more than four months owing to this accident.'—Ibid. +No. 237, p. 320, 1. 51.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Ellen Wagstaff, Watnall: 'Has five children, three at Trough +lane and two at Willow lane, Greasley; one at Trough lane is +eighteen, one fourteen, one thirteen years of age; and those at +Willow lane are sixteen and nineteen; they are variously employed; +the youngest was not seven years old when he first went +to the pits. The whole have worked since they were seven or +seven and a half; they have worked from six to eight; from six +to two for half days, no meal-time in half days; she has known +them when at full work so tired when they first worked, +that you could not hear them speak, and they fell asleep before +they could eat their suppers; it has grieved her to the heart to +see them.'—Ibid. No. 104, p. 292, 1. 18.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Ann Wilson, Underwood: 'Is stepmother to Matthew Wilson +and mother to Richard Clarke. Has heard what they have said, +and believes it to be true; has known them when they work +whole days they have come home so tired and dirty, that they +could scarcely be prevented lying down on the ashes by the fireside, +and could not take their clothes off; has had to do it for +them, and take them to the brook and wash them, and has sat up +most of the night to get their clothes dry. The next morning +they have gone to work like bears to the stake.'—Ibid. No. 112, +p. 294, 1. 5.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Hannah Brixton, Babbington: 'The butties slave them past +any thing. Has frequently had them drop asleep as soon as they +have got in the house, and complain of their legs and arms aching +very bad.'—Ibid. No. 149, p. 302, 1. 44.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Michael Wilkins: 'Never has a mind for his victuals; never +feels himself hungry.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Charlton: 'Thinks the stythe makes him bad so that +he cannot eat his bait, and often brings it all home with him +again, or eats very little of it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Michael Richardson: 'He never has much appetite; and the +dust often blacks his victuals. Is always dry and thirsty.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"William Beaney: 'Has thrown up his victuals often when he +came home; thinks the bad air made him do this.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Thompson: 'Often throws up his food.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Thomas Newton: 'Threw up his victuals last night when he +came home. Never does so down in the pit, but often does when +he comes home.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Moses Clerk: 'Throws up his victuals nearly every day at +home and down in the pit.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Thomas Martin: 'Many times feels sick, and feels headache, +and throws up his food. Was well before he went down in the +pit.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Thomas Fawcett: 'Many a night falls sick; and he many +times throws up his meat when he is in bed. Sometimes feels +bad and sick in the morning.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"George Alder: 'Has been unwell of late with the hard work. +Has felt very sick and weak all this last week.' (Looks very pale +and unwell.)</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Charlton: 'Often obliged to give over. Has been off +five days in the last month. Each of these days was down in the +pit and obliged to come up again.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Laverick and others: 'Many times they fell sick down +in the pit. Sometimes they have the heart-burn; sometimes they +force up their meat again. Some boys are off a week from being +sick; occasionally they feel pains.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Six trappers: 'Sometimes they feel sick upon going to work +in the morning. Sometimes bring up their breakfasts from their +stomachs again. Different boys at different times do this.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"George Short: 'It is bad air where he is, and makes him +bad; makes small spots come out upon him, (small pimples,) +which he thinks is from the air, and he takes physic to stop +them. His head works very often, and he feels sickish sometimes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Nichol Hudderson: 'The pit makes him sick. Has been +very bad in his health ever since he went down in the pit. Was +very healthy before. The heat makes him sick. The sulphur +rising up the shaft as he goes down makes his head work. +Often so sick that he cannot eat when he gets up, at least he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +cannot eat very much. About a half a year since, a boy named +John Huggins was very sick down in the pit, and wanted to come +up, but the keeper would not let him ride, (come up,) and he +died of fever one week afterward.'</p> + +<p class="i1">["The father of this lad and his brother fully corroborate this +statement, and the father says the doctor told him that if he (the +boy) had not been kept in the pit, he might have been, perhaps, +saved. This boy never had any thing the matter with him before +he went down into the pit."—<i>Leifchild, Evidences</i>, Nos. 156, 169, +270, 83, 110, 142, 143, 374, 194, 364, 135, 100, 101; App. pt. i. +p. 582 <i>et seq.</i> See also the statement of witnesses, Nos. 315, +327, 351, 359, 360, 361, 362, 363, 365, 377, 381, 382, 384, 403, +434, 454, 455, 457, 464, 465, 466.]</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Similar statements are made by all classes of witnesses +in some other districts. Thus, in Shropshire:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"A surgeon who did not wish his name to be published: 'They +are subject to hypertrophy of the heart, no doubt laying the +foundation of such disease at the early age of from eight to thirteen +years.'—<i>Mitchell, Evidence</i>, No. 45; App. pt. i. p. 81, 1. 16.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Michael Thomas Sadler, surgeon, Barnsley: 'I have +found diseases of the heart in adult colliers, which it struck me +arose from violent exertion. I know of no trade about here +where the work is harder.'—<i>Symons, Evidence</i>, No. 139; App. +pt. i. p. 261, 1. 36.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Pearson, surgeon to the dispensary, Wigan: 'They are +very subject to diseases of the heart.'—<i>Kennedy, Report</i>, 1. 304; +App. pt. ii. p. 189.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Dr. William Thompson, Edinburgh: 'Workers in coal-mines +are exceedingly liable to suffer from irregular action, and ultimately +organic diseases of the heart.'—<i>Franks, Evidence</i>, App. +pt. i. p. 409.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Scott Alison, M. D., East Lothian: 'I found diseases of the +heart very common among colliers at all ages, from boyhood up +to old age. The most common of them were inflammation of +that organ, and of its covering, the pericardium, simple enlargement +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +or hypertrophy, contraction of the auriculo-ventricular +communications, and of the commencement of the aorta. These +symptoms were well marked, attended for the most part with +increase of the heart's action, the force of its contraction being +sensibly augmented, and, in many cases, especially those of hypertrophy, +much and preternaturally extended over the chest.'—Ibid. +p. 417.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Thomas Batten, surgeon, Coleford: 'A boy about thirteen +years of age, in the Parkend Pits, died of <i>hæmorrhagia +purpurea</i>, (a suffusion of blood under the cuticle,) brought on by +too much exertion of the muscles and whole frame.'—<i>Waring, +Evidence</i>, No. 36; App. pt. ii. p. 24, 1. 21.</p></div> + +<p class="i1">To this list of diseases arising from great muscular +exertion, must be added rupture:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Dr. Farell, Sheffield: 'Many of them are ruptured; nor is +this by any means uncommon among lads—arising, in all probability, +from over-exertion.'—<i>Symons, Evidence</i>, No. 47, App. pt. +i. p. 286, 1. 2.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Pearson, surgeon to the dispensary, Wigan: 'Colliers +are often ruptured, and they often come to me for advice.'—<i>Kennedy, +Report</i>, 1. 304; App. pt. ii. p. 189.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Andrew Grey: 'Severe ruptures occasioned by lifting coal. +Many are ruptured on both sides. I am, and suffer severely, and +a vast number of men here are also.'—<i>Franks, Evidence</i>, No. +147; App. pt. i. p. 463, 1. 61.</p></div> + +<p class="i1">But employment in the coal-mines produces another +series of diseases incomparably more painful and +fatal, partly referable to excessive muscular exertion, +and partly to the state of the place of work—that is, +to the foul air from imperfect ventilation, and the wetness +from inefficient drainage. Of the diseases of the +lungs produced by employment in the mines, asthma +is the most frequent.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. William Hartell Baylis: 'The working of the mines brings +on asthma.'—<i>Mitchell, Evidence</i>, No. 7; App. pt. i. p. 65, 1. 31.</p> + +<p class="i1">"A surgeon who does not wish his name to be published: +'Most colliers, at the age of thirty, become asthmatic. There +are few attain that age without having the respiratory apparatus +disordered.'—Ibid. No. 45, p. 81, 1. 15.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. George Marcy, clerk of the Wellington Union: 'Many +applications are made from miners for relief on account of sickness, +and chiefly from asthmatic complaints, when arrived at an +advanced age. At forty, perhaps, the generality suffer much +from asthma. Those who have applied have been first to the +medical officer, who has confirmed what they said.'—Ibid. No. 46, +p. 81, 1. 44.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I met with very few colliers above forty years of age, who, +if they had not a confirmed asthmatic disease, were not suffering +from difficult breathing.'—<i>Fellows, Report</i>, s. 57; App. pt. ii. p. +256.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Phœbe Gilbert, Watnall, Messrs. Barber and Walker: 'She +thinks they are much subject to asthma. Her first husband, who +died aged 57, was unable to work for seven years on that account.'—<i>Fellows, +Evidence</i>, No. 105; App. pt. ii. p. 256.</p> + +<p class="i1">"William Wardle, collier, forty years of age, Eastwood: 'There +are some who are asthmatical, and many go double.'—Ibid. No. +84, p. 287, 1. 40.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Henry Hemmingway, surgeon, Dewsbury: 'When children +are working where carbonic acid gas prevails, they are rendered +more liable to affections of the brain and lungs. This acid prevents +the blood from its proper decarbonization as it passes from +the heart to the lungs. It does not get properly quit of the +carbon.'—<i>Symons, Evidence</i>, No. 221; App. pt. i. p. 282, 1. 38.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Uriah Bradbury, surgeon, Mirfield: 'They suffer from +asthma.'—Ibid. No. 199, p. 278, 1. 58.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. J. B. Greenwood, surgeon, Cleckheaton: 'The cases +which have come before me professionally have been chiefly +affections of the chest and asthma, owing to the damp underfoot, +and also to the dust which arises from the working of the coal.'—Ibid. +No. 200, p. 279, 1. 8.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">"J. Ibetson, collier, aged fifty-three, Birkenshaw: 'I have suffered +from asthma, and am regularly knocked up. A collier +cannot stand the work regularly. He must stop now and then, +or he will be mashed up before any time.'—Ibid. No. 267, p. 292, +1. 42.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Joseph Barker, collier, aged forty-three, Windybank Pit: 'I +have a wife and two children; one of them is twenty-two years +old; he is mashed up, (that is, he is asthmatical,) he has been as +good a worker as ever worked in a skin.'—<i>Scriven, Evidence</i>, No. +14; App. pt. ii. p. 104, 1. 60.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. George Canney, surgeon, Bishop Aukland: 'Do the +children suffer from early employment in the pits?' Yes, seven +and eight is a very early age, and the constitution must suffer in +consequence. It is injurious to be kept in one position so long, +and in the dark. They go to bed when they come home, and +enjoy very little air. I think there is more than the usual +proportion of pulmonary complaints.'—<i>Mitchell, Evidence</i>, No. 97; +App. pt. i. p. 154, 1. 2.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Headlam, physician, Newcastle: 'Diseases of respiration +are more common among pit-men than among others, distinctly +referable to the air in which they work. The air contains +a great proportion of carbonic gas, and carburetted hydrogen. +These diseases of the respiratory organs arise from the breathing +of these gases, principally of the carbonic acid gas.—<i>Leifchild, +Evidence</i>, No. 499; App. pt. i. p. 67, 1. 11.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Heath, of Newcastle, surgeon: 'More than usually liable +to asthma; mostly between thirty and forty years of age. +A person always working in the broken would be more liable to +asthma. Asthma is of very slow growth, and it is difficult to +say when it begins. Custom and habit will not diminish the evil +effects, but will diminish the sensibility to these evils.'—Ibid. +No. 497, p. 665, 1. 10-14.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Matthew Blackburn, driver, fifteen years of age, Heaton Colliery: +'Has felt shortness of breath. Helps up sometimes, but +is bound to drive. Cannot help up sometimes for shortness of +breath. His legs often work, (ache;) his shoulders work sometimes. +Working in a wet place.'—Ibid. No. 27, p. 573, 1. 34.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Dr. S. Scott Alison, East Lothian: 'Between the twentieth +and thirtieth year the colliers decline in bodily vigour, and +become more and more spare; the difficulty of breathing progresses, +and they find themselves very desirous of some remission +from their labour. This period is fruitful in acute diseases, such +as fever, inflammation of the lungs, pleura, and many other ailments, +the product of over-exertion, exposure to cold and wet, +violence, insufficient clothing, intemperance, and foul air. For +the first few years chronic bronchitis is usually found alone, and +unaccompanied by disease of the body or lungs. The patient +suffers more or less difficulty of breathing, which is affected by +changes of the weather, and by variations in the weight of the +atmosphere. He coughs frequently, and the expectoration is +composed, for the most part, of white frothy and yellowish +mucous fluid, occasionally containing blackish particles of carbon, +the result of the combustion of the lamp, and also of minute +coal-dust. At first, and indeed for several years, the patient, for +the most part, does not suffer much in his general health, eating +heartily, and retaining his muscular strength in consequence. +The disease is rarely, if ever, entirely cured; and if the collier +be not carried off by some other lesion in the mean time, this +disease ultimately deprives him of life by a slow and lingering +process. The difficulty of breathing becomes more or less permanent, +the expectoration becomes very abundant, effusions of +water take place in the chest, the feet swell, and the urine is +secreted in small quantity; the general health gradually breaks +up, and the patient, after reaching premature old age, slips into +the grave at a comparatively early period, with perfect willingness +on his part, and no surprise on that of his family and +friends.'—<i>Franks, Evidence</i>, App. pt. i. p. 412, 415, Appendix A.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Duncan, aged fifty-nine, hewer, Pencaitland: 'Mining +has caused my breath to be affected, and I am, like many other +colliers, obliged to hang upon my children for existence. The +want of proper ventilation in the pits is the chief cause. No part +requires more looking to than East Lothian; the men die off like +rotten sheep.'—Ibid. No. 150, p. 464, 1. 28.</p> + +<p class="i1">"George Hogg, thirty-two years of age, coal-hewer, Pencaitland: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +'Unable to labour much now, as am fashed with bad +breath; the air below is very bad; until lately no ventilation +existed.'—Ibid. No. 153, p. 406, 1. 46. See also Witnesses, Nos. +4, 36, 53, 131, 152, 155, 175, 275, 277, &c.: 'The confined air and +dust in which they work is apt to render them asthmatic, as well +as to unfit them for labour at an earlier period of life than is the +case in other employments.'—<i>Tancred, Report</i>, s. 99, App. pt. i. +p. 345.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Dr. Adams, Glasgow: 'Amongst colliers, bronchitis or asthma +is very prevalent among the older hands.'—<i>Tancred, Evidence</i>, +No. 9; App. pt. i. p. 361, 1. 44.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Peter Williams, surgeon, Holiwell, North Wales: 'The +chief diseases to which they are liable are those of the bronchiæ. +Miners and colliers, by the age of forty, generally become affected +by chronic bronchitis, and commonly before the age of sixty fall +martyrs to the disease. The workmen are, for the most part, +very healthy and hardy, until the symptoms of affections of the +bronchial tubes show themselves.'—<i>H. H. Jones, Evidence</i>, No. +95; App. pt. ii. p. 407, 1. 8.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Jeremiah Bradley, underground agent, Plaskynaston: 'The +men are apt to get a tightness of breath, and become unfit for the +pits, even before sixty.'—Ibid. No. 30, p. 383, 1. 8.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Amongst colliers in South Wales the diseases most prevalent +are the chronic diseases of the respiratory organs, especially +asthma and bronchitis.'—<i>Franks, Report</i>, s. 64; App. pt. ii. +p. 484.</p> + +<p class="i1">"David Davis, contractor, Gilvachvargoed colliery, Glamorganshire: +'I am of opinion that miners are sooner disabled and off +work than other mechanics, for they suffer from shortness of +breath long before they are off work. Shortness of breath may +be said to commence from forty to fifty years of age.'—<i>Franks, +Evidence</i>, No. 178; App. pt. ii. p. 533, 1. 32.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Richard Andrews, overseer, Llancyach, Glamorganshire: +'The miners about here are very subject to asthmatic complaints.'—Ibid. +No. 152; p. 529, 1. 7.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Frederick Evans, clerk and accountant for the Dowlais +Collieries, Monmouthshire: 'Asthma is a prevalent disease +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +among colliers.'—<i>R. W. Jones, Evidence</i>, No. 121; App. pt. ii. +p. 646, 1. 48.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. David Mushet, Forest of Dean: 'The men generally become +asthmatic from fifty to fifty-five years of age.'—<i>Waring, Evidence</i>, +No. 37; App. pt. ii. p. 25, 1. 3.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Asthmatic and other bronchial affections are common among +the older colliers and miners.'—<i>Waring, Report</i>, s. 72; App. +pt. ii. p. 6.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. W. Brice, clerk, Coal Barton and Vobster Collieries, +North Somersetshire: 'The work requires the full vigour of a +man, and they are apt, at this place, to get asthmatical from the gas +and foul air.'—<i>Stewart, Evidence</i>, No. 7; App. pt. ii. p. 50, 1. 49.</p> + +<p class="i1">"James Beacham, coal-breaker, Writhlington, near Radstock: +'Many of the miners suffer from "tight breath."'—Ibid. No. 32; +p. 56, 1. 31."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Of that disease which is peculiar to colliers, called +"black spittle," much evidence is given by many medical +witnesses and others:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Cooper, surgeon, of Bilston, gives the following account +of this malady when it appears in its mildest form: 'Frequently +it occurs that colliers appear at the offices of medical men, complaining +of symptoms of general debility, which appear to arise +from inhalation of certain gases in the mines, (probably an excess +of carbonic.) These patients present a pallid appearance, are +affected with headache, (without febrile symptoms,) and constriction +of the chest; to which may be added dark bronchial expectoration +and deficient appetite. Gentle aperients, mild stomachics, +and rest from labour above ground, restore them in a +week or so, and they are perhaps visited at intervals with a +relapse, if the state of the atmosphere or the ill ventilation of the +mine favour the development of deleterious gas.'—<i>Mitchell, Evidence</i>, +No. 3; App. pt. i. p. 62, 1. 48."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In other districts this disease assumes a much more +formidable character:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Dr. Thompson, of Edinburgh, states that, 'The workmen in +coal mines occasionally die of an affection of the lungs, accompanied +with the expectoration of a large quantity of matter of a +deep black colour, this kind of expectoration continuing long +after they have, from choice or illness, abandoned their subterranean +employment; and the lungs of such persons are found, on +examination after death, to be most deeply impregnated with +black matter. This black deposition may occur to a very considerable +extent in the lungs of workers in coal-mines, without +being accompanied with any black expectoration, or any other +phenomena of active disease, and may come to light only after +death has been occasioned by causes of a different nature, as by +external injuries.'—<i>Franks</i>, Appendix A, No. 1; App. pt. i. p. +409.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Dr. S. Scott Alison: 'Spurious melanosis, or "black spit" of +colliers, is a disease of pretty frequent occurrence among the +older colliers, and among those men who have been employed in +cutting and blasting stone dykes in the collieries. The symptoms +are emaciation of the whole body, constant shortness and quickness +of breath, occasional stitches in the sides, quick pulse, +usually upward of one hundred in the minute, hacking cough +day and night, attended by a copious expectoration, for the most +part perfectly black, and very much the same as thick blacking +in colour and consistence, but occasionally yellowish and mucous, +or white and frothy; respiration is cavernous in some parts, and +dull in others; a wheezing noise is heard in the bronchial passages, +from the presence of an inordinate quantity of fluid; the +muscles of respiration become very prominent, the neck is shortened, +the chest being drawn up, the nostrils are dilated, and the +countenance is of an anxious aspect. The strength gradually +wasting, the collier, who has hitherto continued at his employment, +finds that he is unable to work six days in the week, and +goes under ground perhaps only two or three days in that time; +in the course of time, he finds an occasional half-day's employment +as much as he can manage, and when only a few weeks' or +months' journey from the grave, ultimately takes a final leave of +his labour. This disease is never cured, and if the unhappy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +victim of an unwholesome occupation is not hurried off by some +more acute disease, or by violence, it invariably ends in the +death of the sufferer. Several colliers have died of this disease +under my care.'—Ibid. Appendix A, No. 2; App. pt. i. p. 415, +416.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Dr. Makellar, Pencaitland, East Lothian: 'The most serious +and fatal disease which I have been called to treat, connected +with colliers, is a carbonaceous infiltration into the substance of +the lungs. It is a disease which has long been overlooked, on +account of the unwillingness which formerly existed among that +class of people to allow examination of the body after death; but +of late such a prejudice has in a great measure been removed. +From the nature of Pencaitland coal-works, the seams of coal +being thin when compared with other coal-pits, mining operations +are carried on with difficulty, and, in such a situation, there is +a deficiency in the supply of atmospheric gas, thereby causing +difficulty in breathing, and, consequently, the inhalation of the +carbon which the lungs in exhalation throw off, and also any +carbonaceous substance floating in this impure atmosphere. I +consider the pulmonary diseases of coal-miners to be excited +chiefly by two causes, viz. first, by running stone-mines with +the use of gunpowder; and, secondly, coal-mining in an atmosphere +charged with lamp-smoke and the carbon exhaled from +the lungs. All who are engaged at coal-pits here, are either employed +as coal or stone miners; and the peculiar disease to which +both parties are liable varies considerably according to the employment.'—Ibid. +Appendix A, No. 3, p. 422. See also witnesses +Nos. 7, 44, 112, 144, 146. For a full account of this disease, see +reports of Drs. Alison, Makellar, and Reid, in the Appendix to +the sub-commissioner's report for the East of Scotland."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Dr. Makellar gives the following remarkable evidence +as to the efficacy of ventilation in obviating the production +of this disease:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The only effectual remedy for this disease is a free admission +of pure air, and to be so applied as to remove the confined smoke, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +both as to stone-mining and coal-mining, and also the introduction +of some other mode of lighting such pits than by oil. I know +many coal-pits where there is no <i>black-spit</i>, nor was it ever known, +and, on examination, I find that there is and ever has been in them +a free circulation of air. For example, the Penstone coal-works, +which join Pencaitland, has ever been free of this disease; but +many of the Penstone colliers, on coming to work at Pencaitland +pit, have been seized with, and died of, this disease. Penstone +has always good air, while it is quite the contrary at Pencaitland.'—Ibid. +Appendix A, No. 3; App. pt. i. p. 422."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Other diseases, produced by employment in coal-mines, +less fatal, but scarcely less painful, are rheumatism +and inflammation of the joints.</p> + +<p class="i1">Mr. William Hartell Baylis states that working in +the cold and wet often brings on rheumatism. "More suffer +from this than from any other complaint."<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Asthma +and rheumatism, which are so prevalent in other districts, +are very rare in Warwickshire and Leicestershire.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> +But, in Derbyshire, "rheumatism is very +general. I believe you will scarcely meet a collier, +and ask him what he thinks of the weather, but he will +in reply say, 'Why, his back or shoulders have or have +not pained him as much as usual.'"<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">George Tweddell, surgeon, Houghton-le-Spring, South +Durham, says, in answer to the question—Are miners +much subject to rheumatism?—"Not particularly so. +Our mines are dry; but there is one mine which is wet, +where the men often complain of rheumatism."<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">Similar evidence is given by the medical and other +witnesses in all other districts. Wherever the mines +are not properly drained, and are, therefore, wet and +cold, the work-people are invariably afflicted with rheumatism, +and with painful diseases of the glands.</p> + +<p class="i1">The sub-commissioner for the Forest of Dean gives +the following account of a painful disease of the joints +common in that district:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'The men employed in cutting down the coal are subject to +inflammation of the <i>bursæ</i>, both in the knees and elbows, from +the constant pressure and friction on these joints in their working +postures. When the seams are several feet thick, they begin by +kneeling and cutting away the exterior portion of the base. They +proceed undermining till they are obliged to lie down on their +sides, in order to work beneath the mass as far as the arm can +urge the pick, for the purpose of bringing down a good head of +coal. In this last posture the elbow forms a pivot, resting on the +ground, on which the arm of the workman oscillates as he plies +his sharp pick. It is easy to comprehend how this action, combined +with the pressure, should affect the delicate cellular membrane +of this joint, and bring on the disease indicated. The thin +seams of coal are necessarily altogether worked in a horizontal +posture.'—<i>Waring, Report</i>, s. 63-66; App. pt. ii. p. 5, 6.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Twenty boys at the Walker Colliery: 'The twenty witnesses, +when examined collectively, say, that the way is so very dirty, +and the pit so warm, that the lads often get tired very soon.'—<i>Leifchild, +Evidence</i>, No. 291; App. pt. i. p. 627, 1. 661.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Nineteen boys examined together, of various ages, of whom +the spokesman was William Holt, seventeen years old, putter: +'The bad air when they were whiles working in the broken, +makes them sick. Has felt weak like in his legs at those times. +Was weary like. Has gone on working, but very slowly. Many +a one has had to come home before having a fair start, from +bad air and hard work. Hours are too long. Would sooner +work less hours and get less money.'—Ibid. No. 300; p. 629, 1. 1.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Twenty-three witnesses assembled state: 'That their work is +too hard for them, and they feel sore tired; that some of them +constantly throw up their meat from their stomachs; that their +heads often work, (ache;) the back sometimes; and the legs feel +weak.'—Ibid. No. 354; p. 639, 1. 18.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Wilkinson, aged thirteen, Piercy Main Colliery: 'Was +in for a double shift about five weeks ago, and fell asleep about +one o'clock <span class="sc">P.M.</span>, as he was going to lift the limmers off to join +the rolleys together, and got himself lamed by the horse turning +about and jamming one of his fingers. Split his finger. Was +off a week from this accident. Sometimes feels sick down in the +pit; felt so once or twice last fortnight. Whiles his head works, +(aches,) and he has pains in his legs, as if they were weak. +Feels pains in his knees. Thinks the work is hard for foals, +more so than for others.'—Ibid. No. 60; p. 579, 1. 22.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Middlemas: 'Sometimes, but very rarely, they work +double shift; that is, they go down at four o'clock <span class="sc">A.M.</span> and do not +come up until four o'clock <span class="sc">P.M.</span> in the day after that, thus stopping +down thirty-six hours, without coming up, sometimes; and sometimes +they come up for half an hour, and then go down again. +Another worked for twenty-four hours last week, and never came +up at all. Another has stopped down thirty-six hours, without +coming up at all, twice during the last year. When working this +double shift they go to bed directly they come home.'—Ibid. No. +98; p. 588, 1. 42.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Michael Turner, helper-up, aged fourteen and a half, Gosforth +Colliery: 'Mostly he puts up hill the full corves. Many +times the skin is rubbed off his back and off his feet. His head +works (aches) very often, almost every week. His legs work so +sometimes that he can hardly trail them. Is at hard work now, +shoving rolleys and hoisting the crane; the former is the hardest +work. His back works very often, so that he has sometimes +to sit down for half a minute or so.'—Ibid. No. 145; p. 598, +1. 58.</p> + +<p class="i1">"George Short, aged nearly sixteen: 'Hoists a crane. His +head works very often, and he feels sickish sometimes, and +drowsy sometimes, especially if he sits down. Has always been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +drowsy since he went there. Twice he has worked three shifts +following, of twelve hours each shift; never came up at all during +the thirty-six hours; was sleepy, but had no time to sleep. Has +many times worked double shift of nineteen hours, and he does +this now nearly every pay Friday night. A vast of boys work in +this shift, ten or eleven, or sometimes more. The boys are very +tired and sleepy.'—Ibid. No. 191; p. 606, 1. 41.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Maffin, sixteen years old, putter, Gosforth Colliery: +'Was strong before he went down pits, but is not so now, from +being overhard wrought, and among bad air.'—Ibid. No. 141; +p. 598, 1. 2.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Robert Hall, seventeen years old, half marrow, Felling Colliery: +'The work of putting makes his arms weak, and his legs +work all the day; makes his back work. Is putting to the dip +now in a heavy place. Each one takes his turn to use the +"soams," (the drawing-straps;) one pulls with them, and the +other shoves behind. Both are equally hard. If it is a very +heavy place there are helpers-up, but not so many as they want. +Has known one sore strained by putting.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Peel, aged thirteen: 'Is now off from this. Is healthy +in general, but is now and then off from this work.'—Ibid. No. +325; p. 634, 1. 11.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Michael Richardson, fifteen years old, putter, St. Lawrence +Main Colliery: 'About three quarters of a year since he wrought +double shift every other night; or, rather, he worked three times +in eleven days for thirty-six hours at a time, without coming up +the pit. About six months ago he worked three shifts following, +of twelve hours each shift, and never stopped work more than a +few minutes now and then, or came up the pit till he was done. +There was now and then some night-work to do, and the overman +asked him to stop, and he could not say no, or else he (the overman) +would have frowned on him, and stopped him, perhaps, of +some helpers-up. Thinks the hours for lads ought to be shortened, +and does not know whether it would not be better even if +their wages were less.'—Ibid. No. 270; p. 623, 1. 32.</p> + +<p class="i1">"James Glass, eighteen years old, putter, Walbottle: 'Puts a +tram by himself. Has no helper-up, and no assistance. Mostly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +puts a full tram up. Is putting from a distance now. Mostly +the trams are put up by one person. Was off work the week +before last three days, by being sick. Was then putting in the +night shift, and had to go home and give over. Could not work. +His head works nearly every day. He is always hitting his head +against stone roofs. His arms work very often. Has to stoop +a good deal. The weight of his body lies upon his arms when he +is putting. The skin is rubbed off his back very often.'—Ibid. +No. 244; p. 619, 1. 27.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. James Anderson, a Home Missionary, residing in Easington +Lane, Hetton-le-Hole, in reply to queries proposed, handed in +the following written evidence: 'The boys go too soon to work: +I have seen boys at work not six years of age, and though their +work is not hard, still they have long hours, so that when they +come home they are quite spent. I have often seen them lying +on the floor, fast asleep. Then they often fall asleep in the pit, +and have been killed. Not long ago a boy fell asleep, lay down +on the way, and the wagons killed him. Another boy was killed; +it was supposed he had fallen asleep when driving his wagon, +and fallen off, and was killed.'—Ibid. No. 446; p. 655, 1. 62."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The children employed in the mines and collieries +are distinguished by a remarkable muscular development, +which, however, is unhealthy, as it is premature, +obtained at the expense of other parts of the body, and +of but short duration. The muscles of the arms and +the back become very large and full.</p> + +<p class="i1">With the great muscular development, there is commonly +a proportionate diminution of stature. All +classes of witnesses state that colliers, as a body—children, +young persons, and adults—are stunted in growth. +There are only two exceptions to this in Great Britain, +namely, Warwickshire and Leicestershire. It is to be +inferred from the statements of the sub-commissioner +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +for Ireland, that that country forms a third exception +for the United Kingdom. Of the uniformity of the +statements as to the small stature and the stunted +growth of the colliers in all other districts, the following +may be regarded as examples:—</p> + +<p class="i1">In Shropshire, the miners, as a body, are of small +stature; this is abundantly obvious even to a casual +observer, and there are many instances of men never +exceeding the size of boys.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> Andrew Blake, M. D., +states of the colliers in Derbyshire, that he has observed +that many of them are not so tall as their neighbours +in other employments; this, in a degree, he considers is +owing to their being worked so young.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> In the West +Riding of Yorkshire, also, there is in stature an "appreciable +difference in colliers' children, manifest at all +ages after they have been three years constantly in the +pits; there is little malformation, but, as Mr. Eliss, a +surgeon constantly attending them, admits, they are +somewhat stunted in growth and expanded in width."<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Henry Hemmingway, surgeon, Dewsbury: 'I am quite +sure that the rule is that the children in coal-pits are of a lower +stature than others.'—<i>Symons, Evidence</i>, No. 221; App. pt. i. p. +282, 1. 47.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Thomas Rayner, surgeon, Bristall: 'I account for the +stunted growth from the stooping position, which makes them +grow laterally, and prevents the cartilaginous substances from +expanding.'—Ibid. No. 268, p. 292, 1. 52.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Henry Moorhouse, surgeon, Huddersfield: 'I may state, from +my own personal examination of many of them, that they are +much less in stature, in proportion to their ages, than those working +in mills.'—Ibid. No. 273, p. 293, 1. 49.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Jos. Ellison, Bristall: 'The employment of children decidedly +stunts their growth.'—Ibid. No. 249, p. 288, 1. 8."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Symons, in Appendix to p. 212 of his Report, +has given in detail the names, ages, and measurement, +both in stature and in girth of breast, of a great number +of farm and of colliery children of both ages respectively. +By taking the first ten collier boys, and +the first ten farm boys, of ages between twelve and +fourteen, we find that the former measured in the aggregate +forty-four feet six inches in height, and two +hundred and seventy-four and a half inches around the +breast; while the farm boys measured forty-seven feet +in height, and two hundred and seventy-two inches +round the breast. By taking the ten first collier girls +and farm girls, respectively between the ages of fourteen +and seventeen, we find that the ten collier girls +measured forty-six feet four inches in height, and two +hundred and ninety-three and a half inches round the +breast; while the ten farm girls measured fifty feet +five inches in height, and two hundred and ninety-seven +inches round the breast; so that in the girls there is a +difference in the height of those employed on farms, +compared with those employed in collieries, of eight +and a half per cent. in favour of the former; while +between the colliery and farm boys of a somewhat +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +younger age, and before any long period had been spent +in the collieries, the difference appears to be five and a +half per cent. in favour of the farm children.</p> + +<p class="i1">In like manner, of sixty children employed as hurriers +in the neighbourhood of Halifax, at the average +ages of ten years and nine months, Mr. Scriven states +that the average measurement in height was three feet +eleven inches and three-tenths, and, in circumference, +three feet two inches; while of fifty-one children of the +same age employed on farms, the measurement in height +was four feet three inches, the circumference being the +same in both, namely, two feet three inches. In like +manner, of fifty young persons of the average of fourteen +years and eleven months, the measurement in +height was four feet five inches, and in circumference +two feet three inches; while of forty-nine young +persons employed on farms, of the average of fifteen +years and six months, the measurement in height was +four feet ten inches and eight-elevenths, and, in circumference, +two feet three inches, being a difference of +nearly six inches in height in favour of the agricultural +labourers.</p> + +<p class="i1">In the district of Bradford and Leeds, there is "in +stature an appreciable difference, from about the age +at which children begin to work, between children employed +in mines and children of the same age and +station in the neighbourhood not so employed; and this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +shortness of stature is generally, though to a less degree, +visible in the adult."<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">In Lancashire, the sub-commissioner reports that—"It +appeared to him that the average of the colliers +are considerably shorter in stature than the agricultural +labourers."<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> The evidence collected by the other +gentlemen in this district is to the same effect. Mr. +Pearson, surgeon to the dispensary, Wigan, states, +with regard to the physical condition of the children and +young persons employed in coal-mining, as compared +with that of children in other employments, that they +are smaller and have a stunted appearance, which he +attributes to their being employed too early in life. +<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> +And Mr. Richard Ashton, relieving-officer of the Blackburn +district, describes the colliers as "a low race, and +their appearance is rather decrepit."<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> Though some +remarkable exceptions have been seen in the counties +of Warwick and Leicester, the colliers, as a race of +men, in some districts, and in Durham among the rest, +are not of large stature.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> George Canney, medical +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +practitioner, Bishop Aukland, states, "that they are +less in weight and bulk than the generality of men." +<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">Of the collier boys of Durham and Northumberland, +the sub-commissioner reports that an inspection of +more than a thousand of these boys convinced him that +"as a class, (with many individual exceptions,) their +stature must be considered as diminutive."<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> Mr. +Nicholas Wood, viewer of Killingworth, &c., states +"that there is a very general diminution of stature +among pit-men."<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> Mr. Heath, of Newcastle, surgeon +to Killingworth, Gosforth, and Coxlodge collieries, +"thinks the confinement of children for twelve hours +in a pit is not consistent with ordinary health; the +stature is rather diminished, and there is an absence of +colour; they are shortened in stature."<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> And J. +Brown, M. D., Sunderland, states "that they are +generally stunted in stature, thin and swarthy."<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">Of the collier population in Cumberland, it is stated +that "they are in appearance quite as stunted in +growth, and present much the same physical phenomena +as those of Yorkshire, comparing, of course, those following +similar branches of the work."<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> Thomas<span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +Mitchell, surgeon, Whitehaven, says, "their stature +is partly decreased."<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">Of the deteriorated physical condition of the collier +population in the East of Scotland, as shown, among +other indications, by diminished stature, Dr. S. Scott +Alison states that "many of the infants in a collier +community are thin, skinny, and wasted, and indicate, +by their contracted features and sickly, dirty-white or +faint-yellowish aspect, their early participation in a deteriorated +physical condition. From the age of infancy +up to the seventh or eighth year, much sickliness and +general imperfection of physical development is observable. +The physical condition of the boys and girls +engaged in the collieries is much inferior to that of +children of the same age engaged in farming operations, +in most other trades, or who remain at home unemployed. +The children are, upon the whole, prejudicially +affected to a material extent in their growth and development. +Many of them are short for their years."<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">In South Wales, "the testimony of medical gentlemen, +and of managers and overseers of various works, +in which large numbers of children as well as adults +are employed, proves that the physical health and +strength of children and young persons is deteriorated +by their employment at the early ages and in the works +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +before enumerated."<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> Mr. Jonathan Isaacs, agent of +the Top Hill colliery:—"I have noticed that the children +of miners, who are sent to work, do not grow as +they ought to do; they get pale in their looks, are +weak in their limbs, and any one can distinguish a collier's +child from the children of other working people."<a name="FNanchor_24_24" +id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> +Mr. P. Kirkhouse, oversman to the Cyfarthfa collieries +and ironstone mines, on this point observes—"The +infantine ages at which children are employed +cranks (stunts) their growth, and injures their constitution."<a name="FNanchor_25_25" +id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> +John Russell, surgeon to the Dowlais Iron +Works:—"In stature, I believe a difference to exist in +the male youth from twelve to sixteen, employed in the +mines and collieries, compared with those engaged in +other works, the former being somewhat stunted; and +this difference (under some form or other) seems still +perceptible in the adult miners and colliers."<a name="FNanchor_26_26" +id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">A crippled gait, often connected with positive deformity, +is one of the frequent results of slaving in the +mines.</p> + +<p class="i1">In Derbyshire, the children who have worked in the +collieries from a very early age are stated to be bow-legged.<a name="FNanchor_27_27" +id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">In the West Riding of Yorkshire, "after they are +turned forty-five or fifty, they walk home from their +work almost like cripples; stiffly stalking along, often +leaning on sticks, bearing the visible evidences in their +frame and gait of overstrained muscles and over-taxed +strength. Where the lowness of the gates induces a +very bent posture, I have observed an inward curvature +of the spine; and chicken-breasted children are very +common among those who work in low, thin coal-mines."<a name="FNanchor_28_28" +id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> +Mr. Uriah Bradbury, surgeon, Mirfield:—"Their +knees never stand straight, like other people's."<a name="FNanchor_29_29" +id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> +Mr. Henry Hemmingway, surgeon, Dewsbury:—"May +be distinguished among crowds of +people, by the bending of the spinal column."<a name="FNanchor_30_30" +id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> Mr. +William Sharp, surgeon, Bradford:—"There are +occasionally cases of deformity."<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">In Lancashire district, John Bagley, about thirty-nine +years of age, collier, Mrs. Lancaster's, Patricroft, +states, that "the women drawing in the pits are generally +crooked. Can tell any woman who has been in +the pits. They are rarely, if ever, so straight as other +women who stop above ground."<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> Mr. William Gaulter, +surgeon, of Over Darwen, says—"Has practised as a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +surgeon twenty-four years in this neighbourhood. +Those who work in collieries at an early age, when +they arrive at maturity are not generally so robust as +those who work elsewhere. They are frequently +crooked, (not distorted,) bow-legged, and stooping."<a name="FNanchor_33_33" +id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> +Betty Duxberry, whose children work in the pits, asserts +that "colliers are all crooked and short-legged, +not like other men who work above ground; but they +were always colliers, and always will be. This young +boy turns his feet out and his knees together; drawing +puts them out of shape."<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">Evidence collected in Durham and Northumberland, +shows that the underground labour produces similar +effects in that district.</p> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Nicholas Wood, viewer of Killingworth, Hetton, +and other collieries:—"The children are perhaps a +little ill-formed, and the majority of them pale, and not +robust. Men working in low seams are bent double +and bow-legged very often."<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> J. Brown, M. D. and +J. P., Sunderland:—"They labour more frequently +than other classes of the community under deformity +of the lower limbs, especially that variety of it described +as being 'in-kneed.' This I should ascribe to +yielding of the ligaments, owing to long standing in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +mines in a constrained and awkward position."<a name="FNanchor_36_36" +id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> Mr. +Thomas Greenshaw, surgeon, Walker colliery:—"Their +persons are apt to be somewhat curved and cramped. +As they advance in life, their knees and back frequently +exhibit a curved appearance, from constant +bending at their work."<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> Mr. W. Morrison, surgeon +of Pelaw House, Chester le street, Countess of Durham's +collieries:—"The 'outward man' distinguishes a +pit-man from any other operative. His stature is +diminished, his figure disproportionate and misshapen; +his legs being much bowed; his chest protruding, (the +thoracic region being unequally developed.) His countenance +is not less striking than his figure—his cheeks +being generally hollow, his brow over-hanging, his cheek-bones +high, his forehead low and retreating. Nor is +his appearance healthful—his habit is tainted with +scrofula. I have seen agricultural labourers, blacksmiths, +carpenters, and even those among the wan and +distressed-looking weavers of Nottinghamshire, to +whom the term 'jolly' might not be inaptly applied; +but I never saw a 'jolly-looking' pit-man. As the germ +of this physical degeneration may be formed in the +youthful days of the pit-man, it is desirable to look for +its cause."<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">Ruptures, rheumatism, diseases of the heart and of +other organs, the results of over-exertion in unhealthy +places, are common among the persons employed in the +mines, as many intelligent persons testified before the +commissioners.</p> + +<p class="i1">An employment often pursued under circumstances +which bring with them so many and such formidable +diseases, must prematurely exhaust the strength of ordinary +constitutions; and the evidence collected in +almost all the districts proves that too often the collier +is a disabled man, with the marks of old age upon him, +while other men have scarcely passed beyond their +prime.</p> + +<p class="i1">The evidence shows that in South Staffordshire and +Shropshire, many colliers are incapable of following +their occupation after they are forty years of age; +others continue their work up to fifty, which is stated +by several witnesses to be about the general average. +Mr. Marcy, clerk to the Wellington Union, Salop, +states, that "at about forty the greater part of the +colliers may be considered as disabled, and regular old +men—as much as some are at eighty."<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">Even in Warwickshire and Leicestershire, in which +their physical condition is better than in any other districts, +Mr. Michael Parker, ground bailiff of the Smithson +collieries, states that "some of the men are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +knocked up at forty-five and fifty, and that fifty may +be the average; which early exhaustion of the physical +strength he attributes to the severe labour and bad +air."<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> +Mr. Dalby, surgeon of the Union of Ashby-de-la-Zouch, +says—"The work in the pit is very laborious, +and some are unable for it as early as fifty, +others at forty-five, and some at sixty; I should say +the greater part at forty-five."<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> And Mr. Davenport, +clerk of the Union of Ashby-de-la-Zouch, gives a higher +average, and says that "a collier may wear from +sixty-five to seventy, while an agricultural labourer +may wear from seventy to seventy-five."<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">Of Derbyshire the sub-commissioner reports—"I +have not perceived that look of premature old age so +general amongst colliers, <i>until they are forty years of +age</i>, excepting in the loaders, who evidently appear so +at <i>twenty-eight or thirty</i>, and this I think must arise +from the hardness of their labour, in having such great +weights to lift, and breathing a worse atmosphere than +any other in the pit."<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> Phoebe Gilbert states—"The +loaders are, as the saying is, 'old men before they +are young ones.'"<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> Dr. Blake says—"He has also +noticed that when a collier has worked from a child, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +and becomes forty, he looks much older than those of +the same age above ground."<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">In Yorkshire "the collier of fifty is usually an aged +man; he looks overstrained and stiffened by labour."<a name="FNanchor_46_46" +id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> +"But whilst both the child and the adult miner appear +to enjoy excellent health, and to be remarkably free +from disease, it nevertheless appears that their labour, +at least that of the adult miner, is, in its general result, +and in the extent to which it is pursued, of a character +more severe than the constitution is properly able to +bear. It is rare that a collier is able to follow his +calling beyond the age of from forty to fifty, and then, +unless he be fortunate enough to obtain some easier +occupation, he sinks into a state of helpless dependence. +Better habits with regard to temperance might +diminish, but would not remove, this evil; and the +existence of this fact, in despite of the general healthiness +of the collier population, gives rise to the question +whether, apart from all considerations of mental +and moral improvement, a fatal mistake is not committed +in employing children of tender years to the +extent that their strength will bear, instead of giving +opportunity, by short hours of labour, for the fuller +and more perfect physical development which would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +better fit them to go through the severe labour of their +after-life."<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">In the coal-fields of North Durham and Northumberland, +Dr. Elliott states "that premature old age in +appearance is common; men of thirty-five or forty +years may often be taken for ten years older than they +really are."<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> Mr. Thomas Greenhow, surgeon, Walker +Colliery, North Durham, says "they have an aged +aspect somewhat early in life."<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> Of the effect of employment +in the coal-mines of the East of Scotland, in +producing an early and irreparable deterioration of the +physical condition, the sub-commissioner thus reports: +"In a state of society such as has been described, the +condition of the children may be easily imagined, and +its baneful influence on the health cannot well be +exaggerated; and I am informed by very competent +authorities, that six months labour in the mines is sufficient +to effect a very visible change in the physical +condition of the children; and indeed it is scarcely +possible to conceive of circumstances more calculated to +sow the seeds of future disease, and, to borrow the language +of the Instructions, to prevent the organs from +being fully developed, to enfeeble and disorder their +functions, and to subject the whole system to injury +which cannot be repaired at any subsequent stage of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +life."<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> In the West of Scotland, Dr. Thompson, Ayr, +says—"A collier at fifty generally has the appearance +of a man ten years older than he is."<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">The sub-committee for North Wales reports—"They +fail in health and strength early in life. At thirty a +miner begins to look wan and emaciated, and so does a +collier at forty; while the farming labourer continues +robust and hearty."<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> John Jones, relieving officer for +the Holywell district, states—"Though the children +and young persons employed in these works are healthy, +still it is observable that they soon get to look old, and +they often become asthmatic before they are forty."<a name="FNanchor_53_53" +id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">In the Forest of Dean, Mr. Thomas Marsh, surgeon, +states that "colliers usually become old men at fifty +to fifty-five years of age."<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> In North Somersetshire, +William Brice, clerk and manager, says "there are +very few at work who are above fifty years of age."<a name="FNanchor_55_55" +id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">Early death is the natural consequence of the premature +decrepitude thus described to those whom ever-imminent +casualities have not brought to the grave during +the years of their vigour. The medical evidence +shows that even in South Staffordshire and Shropshire, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +comparatively few miners attain their fifty-first year. +In Warwickshire and Leicestershire it is not uncommon +for the men to follow their occupation ten years longer; +but all classes of witnesses in the other districts uniformly +state that it is rare to see an old collier.</p> + +<p class="i1">In Derbyshire, William Wardle "does not think +colliers live as long as those above ground; very few +live to be sixty."<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">In Yorkshire, "colliers have harder work than any +other class of workmen, and the length of time they +work, as well as the intense exertion they undergo, +added to the frequent unhealthiness of the atmosphere, +decidedly tend to shorten their lives."<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> Mr. Henry +Hemmingway, surgeon, Dewsbury, states—"I only +knew one old collier."<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> Mr. Thomas Rayner, surgeon, +Bristall, says—"I have had twenty-seven years' practice, +and I know of no old colliers—their extreme term +of life is from fifty-six to sixty years of age."<a name="FNanchor_59_59" +id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> In +Lancashire, states Mr. Kennedy, "it appeared to me +that the number of aged men was much smaller than in +other occupations."<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a +href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">After stating that the colliers of South Durham are +a strong and healthy race, Dr. Mitchell adds—"The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +work, however, is laborious and exhausting; and the +colliers, though healthy, are not long-lived."<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> John +Wetherell Hays, clerk of the Union, Durham, states, +"that the colliers are not long-lived; that they live +well, and live fast."<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> And George Canney, medical +practitioner, Bishop Auckland, says "they are generally +short-lived."<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">The sub-commissioner for the East of Scotland reports, +that after a careful consideration of all the +sources of information which could assist him in the +object of his inquiry, he arrives at the following conclusion:—"That +the labour in the coal-mines in the Lothian +and River Forth districts of Scotland is most +severe, and that its severity is in many cases increased by +the want of proper attention to the economy of mining +operations; whence those operations, as at present carried +on, are extremely unwholesome, and productive of diseases +which have a manifest tendency to shorten life."<a name="FNanchor_64_64" +id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> +Mr. Walter Jarvie, manager to Mr. Cadell, of Banton, +states that "in the small village of Banton there are +nearly forty widows; and as the children work always +on parents' behalf, it prevents them having recourse to +the kirk-session for relief."<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> Elsper Thompson says, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +"Most of the men begin to complain at thirty to thirty-five +years of age, and drop off before they get the +length of forty."<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> Henry Naysmith, sixty-five years +of age, collier, who says he has wrought upward of +fifty years, adds that "he has been off work nearly ten +years, and is much afflicted with shortness of breath: it +is the bane of the colliers, and few men live to my +age."<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">In North Wales, it is said that "few colliers come to +the age of sixty, and but still fewer miners. This I +believe to be the fact, though I met with many, both +miners and colliers, who had attained the age of sixty; +yet they were few compared with the number <i>employed</i> +in these branches of industry."<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> Mr. John Jones, +relieving-officer for the Holywell district, "thinks they +are not as long-lived as agriculturists."<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> James Jones, +overman, Cyfarthfa Works, states "that the colliers +are generally very healthy and strong up to the age of +forty or fifty; they then often have a difficulty of +breathing, and they die at younger ages than agricultural +labourers or handicraftsmen."<a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> Mr. John Hughes, +assistant underground agent, says "they do not appear +to live long after fifty or sixty years old."<a name="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">In South Wales, the sub-commissioner reports that he +"has not been able to ascertain, for want of sufficient +data, the average duration of a collier's life in the +counties either of Glamorgan or Monmouth, but it is +admitted that such average duration is less than that +of a common labourer. In the county of Pembroke, +however, Mr. James Bowen, surgeon, Narbeth, in that +county, informs me—"The average life of a collier is +about forty; they rarely attain forty-five years of age; +and in the entire population of Begelly and East Williamson, +being 1163, forming, strictly speaking, a +mining population, there are not six colliers of sixty +years of age."</p> + +<p class="i1">The Rev. Richard Buckby, rector of Begelly, in +answer to one of the queries in the Educational Paper +of the Central Board, writes—"The foul air of the +mines seriously affects the lungs of the children and +young persons employed therein, and shortens the term +of life. In a population of one thousand, there are +not six colliers sixty years of age."</p> + +<p class="i1">There are certain minor evils connected with employment +in the worst class of coal-mines, which, though not +perhaps very serious, are nevertheless sources of much +suffering, such as irritation of the head, feet, back, and +skin, together with occasional strains. "The upper +parts of their head are always denuded of hair; their +scalps are also thickened and inflamed, sometimes +taking on the appearance <i>tinea capitis</i>, from the pressure +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +and friction which they undergo in the act of +pushing the corves forward, although they are mostly +defended by a padded cap."<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> "It is no uncommon +thing to see the hurriers bald, owing to pushing the +corves up steep board gates, with their heads."<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Alexander Muir, surgeon: "Are there any peculiar +diseases to which colliers are subject? No, excepting +that the hurriers are occasionally affected by a +formation of matter upon the forehead, in consequence +of pushing the wagons with their head. To what extent +is such formation of matter injurious to the +general health? It produces considerable local irritation. +When the matter is allowed to escape, it heals +as perfectly as before. Do you conceive this use of +the head to be a necessary or unnecessary part of their +occupation? I should think it not necessary. Does it +arise from any deficiency of strength, the head being +used to supply the place of the arms? I should think +it does."<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> David Swallow, collier, East Moor: "The +hair is very often worn off bald, and the part is swollen +so that sometimes it is like a bulb filled with spongy +matter; so very bad after they have done their day's +work that they cannot bear it touching."<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> William +Holt: "Some thrutched with their heads, because +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +they cannot thrutch enough with their hands alone. +Thrutching with their heads makes a gathering in the +head, and makes them very ill."<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">In running continually over uneven ground, without +shoes or stockings, particles of dirt, coal, and stone get +between the toes, and are prolific sources of irritation +and lameness, of which they often complain; the skin +covering the balls of the toes and heels becomes thickened +and horny, occasioning a good deal of pain and +pustular gathering."<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> James Mitchell: "I have hurt +my feet often; sometimes the coals cut them, and they +run matter, and the corves run over them when I stand +agate; I an't not always aware of their coming."<a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> +Selina Ambler: "I many times hurt my feet and legs +with the coals and scale in gate; sometimes we run +corve over them; my feet have many a time been +blooded."<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> Mrs. Carr: "Has known many foals laid +off with sore backs, especially last year and the year +before, when the putting was said to be very heavy in +the Flatworth pit. Some foals had to lay off a day or +two, to get their backs healed, before they could go to +work again."<a name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a> William Jakes: "His back is often +skinned; is now sore and all red, from holding on or +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +back against the corf."<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> George Faction: "In some +places he bends quite double, and rubs his back so as to +bring the skin off, and whiles to make it bleed, and +whiles he is off work from these things."<a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> Mr. James +Probert, surgeon: "Chronic pain in the back is a +very common complaint among colliers, arising from +overstrained tendonous muscles, and it is the source of +much discomfort to the colliers."<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> Mr. William Dodd, +surgeon: "As to the 'boils,' when a fresh man comes +to the colliery he generally becomes affected by these +'boils,' most probably from the heat in the first instance, +and subsequently they are aggravated by the salt +water."<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> James Johnson: "Sometimes when among +the salt water, the heat, etc., brings out boils about the +size of a hen's egg upon him, about his legs and thighs, +and under his arms sometimes. A vast of boys, men, +and all, have these boils at times. These boils perhaps +last a fortnight before they get ripe, and then they +burst. A great white thing follows, and is called a +'tanner'."<a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a> Dr. Adams, Glasgow: "An eruption on +the skin is very prevalent among colliers."<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> William +Mackenzie: "Had about twenty boils on his back at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +one time, about two years since. These lasted about +three months. He was kept off work about a week. +If he touched them against any thing they were like +death to him. But few of the boys have so many at a +time; many of the boys get two or three at a time. +The boys take physic to bring them all out; then they +get rid of them for some time. If the salt water falls +on any part of them that is scotched, it burns into the +flesh like; it is like red rust. It almost blinds the +boys if it gets into their eyes."<a name="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">Accidents of a fatal nature are of frightful frequency +in the mines. In one year there were three +hundred and forty-nine deaths by violence in the coal-mines +of England alone. Of the persons thus killed, +fifty-eight were under thirteen years of age; sixty-two +under eighteen, and the remainder over eighteen. +One of the most frequent causes of accidents is the +want of superintendence to see the security of the machinery +for letting down and bringing up the work-people, +and the restriction of the number of persons +who ascend or descend at the same time. The commissioners +observed at Elland two hurriers, named Ann +Ambler and William Dyson, cross-lapped upon a clutch-iron, +drawn up by a woman. As soon as they arrived +at the top the handle was made fast by a bolt. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +woman then grasped a hand of both at the same time, +and by main force brought them to land.</p> + +<p class="i1">From all the evidence adduced, the commissioners +came to the following conclusions:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In regard to coal-mines—</p> + +<p class="i1">"That instances occur in which children are taken into these +mines to work as early as four years of age, sometimes at five, +and between five and six; not unfrequently between six and +seven, and often from seven to eight; while from eight to nine is +the ordinary age at which employment in these mines commences.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That a very large proportion of the persons employed in carrying +on the work of these mines is under thirteen years of age; +and a still larger proportion between thirteen and eighteen.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That in several districts female children begin to work in +these mines at the same early ages as the males.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That the great body of the children and young persons employed +in these mines are of the families of the adult work-people +engaged in the pits, or belong to the poorest population in +the neighbourhood, and are hired and paid in some districts by +the work-people, but in others by the proprietors or contractors.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That there are in some districts, also, a small number of +parish apprentices, who are bound to serve their masters until +twenty-one years of age, in an employment in which there is +nothing deserving the name of skill to be acquired, under circumstances +of frequent ill-treatment, and under the oppressive condition +that they shall receive only food and clothing, while their +free companions may be obtaining a man's wages.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That, in many instances, much that skill and capital can effect +to render the place of work unoppressive and healthy and safe, +is done, often with complete success, as far as regards the healthfulness +and comfort of the mines; but that to render them perfectly +safe does not appear to be practicable by any means yet +known; while, in great numbers of instances, their condition in +regard both to ventilation and drainage is lamentably defective.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"That the nature of the employment which is assigned to the +youngest children—generally that of 'trapping'—requires that +they should be in the pit as soon as the work of the day commences, +and, according to the present system, that they should +not leave the pit before the work of the day is at an end.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That although this employment scarcely deserves the name +of labour, yet, as the children engaged in it are commonly excluded +from light, and are always without companions, it would, +were it not for the passing and repassing of the coal-carriages, +amount to solitary confinement of the worst sort.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That in those districts where the seams of coal are so thick +that horses go direct to the workings, or in which the side passages +from the workings to the horseways are not of any great +length, the lights in the main way render the situation of the +children comparatively less cheerless, dull, and stupefying; but +that in some districts they are in solitude and darkness during +the whole time they are in the pit; and, according to their own +account, many of them never see the light of day for weeks +together during the greater part of the winter season, except on +those days in the week when work is not going on, and on the +Sundays.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That, at different ages from six years old and upward, the +hard work of pushing and dragging the carriages of coal from +the workings to the main ways, or to the foot of the shaft, begins; +a labour which all classes of witnesses concur in stating requires +the unremitting exertion of all the physical power which the +young workers possess.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That, in the districts in which females are taken down into the +coal-mines, both sexes are employed together in precisely the same +kind of labour, and work for the same number of hours; that the +girls and boys, and the young men and young women, and even +married women and women with child, commonly work almost +naked, and the men, in many mines, quite naked; and that all +classes of witnesses bear testimony to the demoralizing influence +of the employment of females under ground.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That, in the East of Scotland, a much larger proportion of +children and young persons are employed in these mines than in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +any other districts, many of whom are girls; and that the chief +part of their labour consists in carrying the coal on their backs +up steep ladders.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That, when the work-people are in full employment, the regular +hours of work for children and young persons are rarely +less than eleven, more often they are twelve; in some districts +they are thirteen, and in one district they are generally fourteen +and upward.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That, in the great majority of these mines, night-work is a part +of the ordinary system of labour, more or less regularly carried +on according to the demand for coals, and one which the whole +body of evidence shows to act most injuriously both on the physical +and moral condition of the work-people, and more especially +on that of the children and young persons.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That the labour performed daily for this number of hours, +though it cannot strictly be said to be continuous, because, from +the nature of the employment, intervals of a few minutes necessarily +occur during which the muscles are not in active exertion, +is, nevertheless, generally uninterrupted by any regular time set +apart for rest or refreshment; what food is taken in the pit being +eaten as best it may while the labour continues.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That in all well-regulated mines, in which in general the +hours of work are the shortest, and in some few of which from +half an hour to an hour is regularly set apart for meals, little or +no fatigue is complained of after an ordinary day's work, when +the children are ten years old and upward; but in other instances +great complaint is made of the feeling of fatigue, and the +work-people are never without this feeling, often in an extremely +painful degree.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That in many cases the children and young persons have +little cause of complaint in regard to the treatment they receive +from the persons of authority in the mine, or from the colliers; +but that in general the younger children are roughly used by +their older companions, while in many mines the conduct of the +adult colliers to the children and adult persons who assist them +is harsh and cruel; the persons in authority in these mines, who +must be cognizant of this ill-usage, never interfering to prevent +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +it, and some of them distinctly stating that they do not conceive +that they have any right to do so.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That, with some exceptions, little interest is taken by the +coal-owners in the children or young persons employed in their +works after the daily labour is over; at least, little is done to +afford them the means of enjoying innocent amusement and +healthful recreation.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That in all the coal fields accidents of a fearful nature are +extremely frequent; and that the returns made to our own queries, +as well as the registry tables, prove that, of the work-people who +perish by such accidents, the proportion of children and young persons +sometimes equals and rarely falls much below that of adults.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That one of the most frequent causes of accidents in these +mines is the want of superintendence by overlookers or otherwise, +to see to the security of the machinery for letting down and bringing +up the work-people, the restriction of the number of persons +that ascend and descend at a time, the state of the mine as to the +quantity of noxious gas in it, the efficiency of the ventilation, the +exactness with which the air-door keepers perform their duty, the +places into which it is safe or unsafe to go with a naked lighted +candle, the security of the proppings to uphold the roof, &c.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That another frequent cause of fatal accidents is the almost +universal practice of intrusting the closing of the air-doors to very +young children.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That there are many mines in which the most ordinary precautions +to guard against accidents are neglected, and in which +no money appears to be expended with a view to secure the safety, +much less the comfort, of the work-people.</p> + +<p class="i1">"There are, moreover, two practices, peculiar to a few districts, +which deserve the highest reprobation, namely,—first, the practice, +not unknown in some of the smaller mines in Yorkshire, and +common in Lancashire, in employing ropes that are unsafe for +letting down and drawing up the work-people; and second, the +practice occasionally met with in Yorkshire, and common in Derbyshire +and Lancashire, of employing boys at the steam-engines +for letting down and drawing up the work-people."—<i>First Report, +Conclusions</i>, p. 255-257.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">Well, what did the British Government do when the +heart-rending report of the commissioners was received? +It felt the necessity of a show of legislative interference. +Lord Ashley introduced a bill into the House of Commons, +having for its object the amelioration of the condition +of the mining women and children. Much discussion +occurred. The bill passed the House of Commons, +and was taken to the House of Lords, the high court of +British oppression. Some lords advocated the measure, +whereupon Lord Londonderry and some others spoke +of them as "bitten with a humanity mania." Modifications +were made in the bill to suit the pockets of the +luxurious proprietors, and then it was grumblingly +adopted. What did the bill provide? That no child +under <i>ten</i> years of age, and no woman or girl, of any +age, should be allowed to work in a mine. Now, children +may be ten years of age, and above that, and yet +they are still tender little creatures. The majority of +the sufferers who came to the notice of the commissioners +were above ten years of age! In that point, +at least, the bill was worse than a nullity—it was a base +deceit, pouring balm, but not upon the wound!</p> + +<p class="i1">The same bill provided that no females should be +allowed to work in the mines. But then the females +were driven to the mines by the dread of starvation. +Soon after the passage of the bill, petitions from the +mining districts were sent to Parliament, praying that +females might be allowed to work in the mines. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +petitioners had no means of getting bread. If they +had, they would never have been in the mines at all. +The horrors of labour in the mines were consequences +of the general slavery. Well, there were many proprietors +of mines in Parliament, and their influence +was sufficient to nullify the law in practice. There is +good authority for believing that the disgusting slavery +of the British mines has been ameliorated only to a very +limited extent.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">SLAVERY IN THE BRITISH FACTORIES.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">Great Britain</span> has long gloried in the variety and +importance of her manufactures. Burke spoke of Birmingham +as the toyshop of Europe; and, at this day, +the looms of Manchester and the other factory towns +of England furnish the dry-goods of a large portion of +the world. Viewed at a distance, this wonder-working +industry excites astonishment and admiration; but a +closer inspection will show us such corrupt and gloomy +features in this vast manufacturing system as will turn +a portion of admiration into shrinking disgust. Giving +the meed of praise to the perfection of machinery and +the excellence of the fabrics, what shall we say of the +human operatives? For glory purchased at the price +of blood and souls is a vanity indeed. Let us see!</p> + +<p class="i1">The number of persons employed in the cotton, wool, +silk, and flax manufactures of Great Britain is estimated +at about two millions. Mr. Baines states that about +one and a half million are employed in the cotton manufactures +alone. The whole number employed in the +production of all sorts of iron, hardware, and cutlery +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +articles is estimated at 350,000. In the manufacture +of jewelry, earthen and glass ware, paper, woollen stuffs, +distilled and fermented liquors, and in the common +trades of tailoring, shoemaking, carpentering, &c., the +numbers employed are very great, though not accurately +known. We think the facts will bear us out in +stating that this vast body of operatives suffer more of +the real miseries of slavery than any similar class upon +the face of the earth.</p> + +<p class="i1">In the first place, admitting that wages are as high +in Great Britain as in any continental country, the +enormous expenses of the church and aristocracy produce +a taxation which eats up so large a portion of +these wages, that there is not enough left to enable the +workman to live decently and comfortably. But the +wages are, in general, brought very low by excessive +competition; and, in consequence, the operative must +stretch his hours of toil far beyond all healthy limits to +earn enough to pay taxes and support himself. It is +the struggle of drowning men, and what wonder if many +sink beneath the gloomy waves?</p> + +<p class="i1">When C. Edwards Lester, an author of reputation, was +in England, he visited Manchester, and, making inquiries +of an operative, obtained the following reply:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"I have a wife and nine children, and a pretty hard time we +have too, we are so many; and most of the children are so small, +they can do little for the support of the family. I generally get +from two shillings to a crown a day for carrying luggage; and +some of my children are in the mills; and the rest are too young +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +to work yet. My wife is never well, and it comes pretty hard on +her to do the work of the whole family. We often talk these +things over, and feel pretty sad. We live in a poor house; we +can't clothe our children comfortably; not one of them ever went +to school: they could go to the Sunday-school, but we can't make +them look decent enough to go to such a place. As for meat, we +never taste it; potatoes and coarse bread are our principal food. +We can't save any thing for a day of want; almost every thing +we get for our work seems to go for taxes. We are taxed for +something almost every week in the year. We have no time to +ourselves when we are free from work. It seems that our life is +all toil; I sometimes almost give up. Life isn't worth much to a +poor man in England; and sometimes Mary and I, when we talk +about it, pretty much conclude that we all should be better off if +we were dead. I have gone home at night a great many times, +and told my wife when she said supper was ready, that I had +taken a bite at a chophouse on the way, and was not hungry—she +and the children could eat my share. Yes, I have said this a +great many times when I felt pretty hungry myself. I sometimes +wonder that God suffers so many poor people to come into the +world."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">And this is, comparatively, a mild case. Instances +of hard-working families living in dark, damp cellars, +and having the coarsest food, are common in Manchester, +Birmingham, and other manufacturing towns.</p> + +<p class="i1">Mrs. Gaskell, in her thrilling novel, "Mary Barton, +a Tale of Manchester Life," depicts without exaggeration +the sufferings of the operatives and their families +when work is a little slack, or when, by accident, they +are thrown out of employment for a short period. A +large factory, belonging to a Mr. Carson, had been +destroyed by fire, and about the same time, as trade +was had, some mills shortened hours, turned off hands, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +and finally stopped work altogether. Almost inconceivable +misery followed among the unemployed workmen. +In the best of times they fared hardly; now they +were forced to live in damp and filthy cellars, and many +perished, either from starvation or from fevers bred in +their horrible residences. One cold evening John Barton +received a hurried visit from a fellow-operative, named +George Wilson.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'You've not got a bit o' money by you, Barton?' asked he.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Not I; who has now, I'd like to know? Whatten you want +it for?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I donnot want it for mysel, tho' we've none to spare. But don +ye know Ben Davenport as worked at Carson's? He's down wi' +the fever, and ne'er a stick o' fire, nor a cowd potato in the house.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I han got no money, I tell ye,' said Barton. Wilson looked +disappointed. Barton tried not to be interested, but he could not +help it in spite of his gruffness. He rose, and went to the cupboard, +(his wife's pride long ago.) There lay the remains of his +dinner, hastily put there ready for supper. Bread, and a slice of +cold, fat, boiled bacon. He wrapped them in his handkerchief, +put them in the crown of his hat, and said—'Come, let's be going.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Going—art thou going to work this time o' day?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No, stupid, to be sure not. Going to see the fellow thou spoke +on.' So they put on their hats and set out. On the way Wilson +said Davenport was a good fellow, though too much of the Methodee; +that his children were too young to work, but not too +young to be cold and hungry; that they had sunk lower and +lower, and pawned thing after thing, and that now they lived in +in a cellar in Berry-street, off Store-street. Barton growled inarticulate +words of no benevolent import to a large class of mankind, +and so they went along till they arrived in Berry-street. It was +unpaved; and down the middle a gutter forced its way, every +now and then forming pools in the holes with which the street +abounded. Never was the Old Edinburgh cry of 'Gardez l'eau,' +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +more necessary than in this street. As they passed, women from +their doors tossed household slops of <i>every</i> description into the +gutter; they ran into the next pool, which overflowed and stagnated. +Heaps of ashes were the stepping-stones, on which the +passer-by, who cared in the least for cleanliness, took care not to +put his foot. Our friends were not dainty, but even they picked +their way till they got to some steps leading down into a small +area, where a person standing would have his head about one foot +below the level of the street, and might, at the same time, without +the least motion of his body, touch the window of the cellar and +the damp, muddy wall right opposite. You went down one step +even from the foul area into the cellar, in which a family of human +beings lived. It was very dark inside. The window panes were +many of them broken and stuffed with rags, which was reason +enough for the dusky light that pervaded the place even at mid-day. +After the account I have given of the state of the street, no +one can be surprised that, on going into the cellar inhabited by +Davenport, the smell was so fetid as almost to knock the two +men down. Quickly recovering themselves, as those inured to +such things do, they began to penetrate the thick darkness of the +place, and to see three or four little children rolling on the damp, +nay, wet, brick floor, through which the stagnant, filthy moisture +of the street oozed up; the fireplace was empty and black; the +wife sat on her husband's lair, and cried in the dank loneliness.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'See, missis, I'm back again. Hold your noise, children, and +don't mither (trouble) your mammy for bread, here's a chap as +has got some for you.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"In that dim light, which was darkness to strangers, they +clustered round Barton, and tore from him the food he had +brought with him. It was a large hunch of bread, but it had +vanished in an instant.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'We maun do summut for 'em,' said he to Wilson. 'Yo stop +here, and I'll be back in half an hour.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"So he strode, and ran, and hurried home. He emptied into the +ever-useful pocket-handkerchief the little meal remaining in the +mug. Mary would have her tea at Miss Simmonds'; her food for +the day was safe. Then he went up-stairs for his better coat, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +his one, gay, red and yellow silk pocket-handkerchief—his jewels, +his plate, his valuables these were. He went to the pawn-shop; +he pawned them for five shillings; he stopped not, nor stayed, till +he was once more in London Road, within five minutes' walk of +Berry-street—then he loitered in his gait, in order to discover the +shops he wanted. He bought meat, and a loaf of bread, candles, +chips, and from a little retail yard he purchased a couple of hundredweights +of coals. Some money yet remained—all destined +for them, but he did not yet know how best to spend it. Food, +light, and warmth, he had instantly seen, were necessary; for +luxuries he would wait. Wilson's eyes filled with tears when he +saw Barton enter with his purchases. He understood it all, and +longed to be once more in work, that he might help in some of +these material ways, without feeling that he was using his son's +money. But though 'silver and gold he had none,' he gave heart-service +and love-works of far more value. Nor was John Barton +behind in these. 'The fever' was (as it usually is in Manchester) +of a low, putrid, typhoid kind; brought on by miserable living, +filthy neighbourhood, and great depression of mind and body. It +is virulent, malignant, and highly infectious. But the poor are +fatalists with regard to infection; and well for them it is so, for +in their crowded dwellings no invalid can be isolated. Wilson +asked Barton if he thought he should catch it, and was laughed +at for his idea.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The two men, rough, tender nurses as they were, lighted the +fire, which smoked and puffed into the room as if it did not know +the way up the damp, unused chimney. The very smoke seemed +purifying and healthy in the thick clammy air. The children +clamoured again for bread; but this time Barton took a piece first +to the poor, helpless, hopeless woman, who still sat by the side +of her husband, listening to his anxious, miserable mutterings. +She took the bread, when it was put into her hand, and broke a +bit, but could not eat. She was past hunger. She fell down on +the floor with a heavy, unresisting bang. The men looked puzzled. +'She's wellnigh clemmed, (<i>starved</i>,)' said Barton. 'Folk do say +one musn't give clemmed people much to eat; but, bless us, she'll +eat naught.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">'I'll tell you what I'll do,' said Wilson, I'll take these two big +lads, as does naught but fight, home to my missis's for to-night, +and I will get a jug o' tea. Them women always does best with +tea and such slop.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"So Barton was now left alone with a little child, crying, when +it had done eating, for mammy, with a fainting, dead-like woman, +and with the sick man, whose mutterings were rising up to screams +and shrieks of agonized anxiety. He carried the woman to the +fire, and chafed her hands. He looked around for something to +raise her head. There was literally nothing but some loose bricks: +however, those he got, and taking off his coat, he covered them +with it as well as he could. He pulled her feet to the fire, which +now began to emit some faint heat. He looked round for water, +but the poor woman had been too weak to drag herself out to the +distant pump, and water there was none. He snatched the child, +and ran up the area steps to the room above, and borrowed their +only saucepan with some water in it. Then he began, with the +useful skill of a working man, to make some gruel; and, when it +was hastily made, he seized a battered iron table-spoon, kept +when many other little things had been sold in a lot, in order to +feed baby, and with it he forced one or two drops between her +clenched teeth. The mouth opened mechanically to receive more, +and gradually she revived. She sat up and looked round; and, +recollecting all, fell down again in weak and passive despair. +Her little child crawled to her, and wiped with its fingers the +thick-coming tears which she now had strength to weep. It was +now high time to attend to the man. He lay on straw, so damp +and mouldy no dog would have chosen it in preference to flags; +over it was a piece of sacking, coming next to his worn skeleton +of a body; above him was mustered every article of clothing that +could be spared by mother or children this bitter weather; and, +in addition to his own, these might have given as much warmth +as one blanket, could they have been kept on him; but as he restlessly +tossed to and fro, they fell off, and left him shivering in spite +of the burning heat of his skin. Every now and then he started +up in his naked madness, looking like the prophet of wo in the +fearful plague-picture; but he soon fell again in exhaustion, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +Barton found he must be closely watched, lest in these falls he +should injure himself against the hard brick floor. He was thankful +when Wilson reappeared, carrying in both hands a jug of +steaming tea, intended for the poor wife; but when the delirious +husband saw drink, he snatched at it with animal instinct, with +a selfishness he had never shown in health.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Then the two men consulted together. It seemed decided without +a word being spoken on the subject, that both should spend +the night with the forlorn couple; that was settled. But could +no doctor be had? In all probability, no. The next day an infirmary +order might be begged; but meanwhile the only medical +advice they could have must be from a druggist's. So Barton, +being the moneyed man, set out to find a shop in London Road.</p> + +<p class="i1">"He reached a druggist's shop, and entered. The druggist, +whose smooth manners seemed to have been salved over with his +own spermaceti, listened attentively to Barton's description of +Davenport's illness, concluded it was typhus fever, very prevalent +in that neighbourhood, and proceeded to make up a bottle of medicine—sweet +spirits of nitre, or some such innocent potion—very +good for slight colds, but utterly powerless to stop for an instant +the raging fever of the poor man it was intended to relieve. He +recommended the same course they had previously determined to +adopt, applying the next morning for an infirmary order; and +Barton left the shop with comfortable faith in the physic given +him; for men of his class, if they believe in physic at all, believe +that every description is equally efficacious.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Meanwhile Wilson had done what he could at Davenport's +home. He had soothed and covered the man many a time; he +had fed and hushed the little child, and spoken tenderly to the +woman, who lay still in her weakness and her weariness. He +had opened a door, but only for an instant; it led into a back +cellar, with a grating instead of a window, down which dropped +the moisture from pig-styes, and worse abominations. It was not +paved; the floor was one mass of bad-smelling mud. It had never +been used, for there was not an article of furniture in it; nor +could a human being, much less a pig, have lived there many +days. Yet the 'back apartment' made a difference in the rent. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +The Davenports paid threepence more for having two rooms. +When he turned round again, he saw the woman suckling the +child from her dry, withered breast.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Surely the lad is weaned!' exclaimed he, in surprise. 'Why, +how old is he?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Going on two year,' she faintly answered. 'But, oh! it keeps +him quiet when I've naught else to gi' him, and he'll get a bit of +sleep lying there, if he's getten naught beside. We han done our +best to gi' the childer food, howe'er we pinched ourselves.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Han ye had no money fra th' town?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No; my master is Buckinghamshire born, and he's feared +the town would send him back to his parish, if he went to the +board; so we've just borne on in hope o' better times. But I +think they'll never come in my day;' and the poor woman began +her weak, high-pitched cry again.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Here, sup this drop o' gruel, and then try and get a bit o' +sleep. John and I'll watch by your master to-night.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'God's blessing be on you!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"She finished the gruel, and fell into a dead sleep. Wilson +covered her with his coat as well as he could, and tried to move +lightly for fear of disturbing her; but there need have been no +such dread, for her sleep was profound and heavy with exhaustion. +Once only she roused to pull the coat round her little child.</p> + +<p class="i1">"And now, all Wilson's care, and Barton's to boot, was wanted +to restrain the wild, mad agony of the fevered man. He started +up, he yelled, he seemed infuriated by overwhelming anxiety. +He cursed and swore, which surprised Wilson, who knew his piety +in health, and who did not know the unbridled tongue of delirium. +At length he seemed exhausted, and fell asleep; and Barton and +Wilson drew near the fire, and talked together in whispers. They +sat on the floor, for chairs there were none; the sole table was an +old tub turned upside down. They put out the candle and conversed +by the flickering fire-light.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Han yo known this chap long?' asked Barton.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Better nor three year. He's worked wi' Carsons that long, +and were always a steady, civil-spoken fellow, though, as I said +afore, somewhat of a Methodee. I wish I'd gotten a letter he sent +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +to his missis, a week or two agone, when he were on tramp for +work. It did my heart good to read it; for yo see, I were a bit +grumbling mysel; it seemed hard to be sponging on Jem, and +taking a' his flesh-meat money to buy bread for me and them as +I ought to be keeping. But, yo know, though I can earn naught, +I mun eat summut. Well, as I telled ye, I were grumbling, +when she,' indicating the sleeping woman by a nod, 'brought me +Ben's letter, for she could na read hersel. It were as good as +Bible-words; ne'er a word o' repining; a' about God being our +father, and that we mun bear patiently whate'er he sends.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Don ye think he's th' masters' father, too? I'd be loth to +have 'em for brothers.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Eh, John! donna talk so; sure there's many and many a +master as good nor better than us.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'If you think so, tell me this. How comes it they're rich, and +we're poor? I'd like to know that. Han they done as they'd be +done by for us?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"But Wilson was no arguer—no speechifier, as he would have +called it. So Barton, seeing he was likely to have his own way, +went on—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You'll say, at least many a one does, they'n getten capital, +an' we'n getten none. I say, our labour's our capital, and we +ought to draw interest on that. They get interest on their +capital somehow a' this time, while ourn is lying idle, else how +could they all live as they do? Besides, there's many on 'em as +had naught to begin wi'; there's Carsons, and Duncombes, and +Mengies, and many another as comed into Manchester with +clothes to their backs, and that were all, and now they're worth +their tens of thousands, a' gotten out of our labour; why the very +land as fetched but sixty pound twenty years agone is now worth +six hundred, and that, too, is owing to our labour; but look at yo, +and see me, and poor Davenport yonder. Whatten better are we? +They'n screwed us down to th' lowest peg, in order to make their +great big fortunes, and build their great big houses, and we—why, +we're just clemming, many and many of us. Can you say there's +naught wrong in this?'"</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">These poor fellows, according to the story, took care +of Davenport till he died in that loathsome cellar, and +then had him decently buried. They knew not how +soon his fate would overtake them, and they would then +want friends. In the mean time, while disease and +starvation were doing their work among the poor operatives, +their masters were lolling on sofas, and, in the +recreations of an evening, spending enough to relieve a +hundred families. Perhaps, also, the masters' wives +were concocting petitions on the subject of negro-slavery—that +kind of philanthropy costing very little +money or self-sacrifice.</p> + +<p class="i1">It may be said that the story of "Mary Barton" is a +fiction; but it must not be forgotten that it is the work +of an English writer, and that its scenes are professedly +drawn from the existing realities of life in Manchester, +where the author resided. In the same work, we find +an account of an historical affair, which is important in +this connection, as showing how the wail of the oppressed +is treated by the British aristocracy:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"For three years past, trade had been getting worse and worse, +and the price of provisions higher and higher. This disparity +between the amount of the earnings of the working classes, and +the price of their food, occasioned, in more cases than could well +be imagined, disease and death. Whole families went through a +gradual starvation. They only wanted a Dante to record their +sufferings. And yet even his words would fall short of the awful +truth; they could only present an outline of the tremendous facts +of the destitution that surrounded thousands upon thousands in +the terrible years 1839, 1840, and 1841. Even philanthropists, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +who had studied the subject, were forced to own themselves perplexed +in the endeavour to ascertain the real causes of the +misery; the whole matter was of so complicated a nature, that +it became next to impossible to understand it thoroughly. It +need excite no surprise, then, to learn that a bad feeling between +working men and the upper classes became very strong in this +season of privation. The indigence and sufferings of the operatives +induced a suspicion in the minds of many of them, that +their legislators, their managers, their employers, and even their +ministers of religion, were, in general, their oppressors and +enemies; and were in league for their prostration and enthralment. +The most deplorable and enduring evil that arose out of +the period of commercial depression to which I refer, was this +feeling of alienation between the different classes of society. It +is so impossible to describe, or even faintly to picture, the state +of distress which prevailed in the town at that time, that I will +not attempt it; and yet I think again that surely, in a Christian +land, it was not known even so feebly as words could tell it, or +the more happy and fortunate would have thronged with their +sympathy and their aid. In many instances the sufferers wept +first, and then they cursed. Their vindictive feelings exhibited +themselves in rabid politics. And when I hear, as I have heard, +of the sufferings and privations of the poor, of provision-shops +where ha'porths of tea, sugar, butter, and even flour, were sold +to accommodate the indigent—of parents sitting in their clothes +by the fireside during the whole night, for seven weeks together, +in order that their only bed and bedding might be reserved for +the use of their large family—of others sleeping upon the cold +hearth-stone for weeks in succession, without adequate means of +providing themselves with food or fuel (and this in the depth of +winter)—of others being compelled to fast for days together, uncheered +by any hope of better fortune, living, moreover, or rather +starving, in a crowded garret or damp cellar, and gradually sinking +under the pressure of want and despair into a premature +grave; and when this has been confirmed by the evidence of +their care-worn looks, their excited feelings, and their desolate +homes—can I wonder that many of them, in such times of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +misery and destitution, spoke and acted with ferocious precipitation!</p> + +<p class="i1">"An idea was now springing up among the operatives, that +originated with the Chartists, but which came at last to be cherished +as a darling child by many and many a one. They could +not believe that government knew of their misery; they rather +chose to think it possible that men could voluntarily assume the +office of legislators for a nation, ignorant of its real state; as who +should make domestic rules for the pretty behaviour of children, +without caring to know that these children had been kept for +days without food. Besides, the starving multitudes had heard +that the very existence of their distress had been denied in Parliament; +and though they felt this strange and inexplicable, yet +the idea that their misery had still to be revealed in all its +depths, and that then some remedy would be found, soothed their +aching hearts, and kept down their rising fury.</p> + +<p class="i1">"So a petition was framed, and signed by thousands in the +bright spring days of 1839, imploring Parliament to hear witnesses +who could testify to the unparalleled destitution of the +manufacturing districts. Nottingham, Sheffield, Glasgow, Manchester, +and many other towns, were busy appointing delegates +to convey this petition, who might speak, not merely of what +they had seen and had heard, but from what they had borne and +suffered. Life-worn, gaunt, anxious, hunger-stamped men were +those delegates."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The delegates went in a body to London, and applied +at the Parliament House for permission to present +their petition upon the subject nearest their hearts—the +question of life and death. They were haughtily +denied a hearing. The assemblage of the "best gentlemen +in Europe," were, perhaps, discussing the best +means of beautifying their parks and extending their +estates. What had these rose-pink legislators to do +with the miseries of the base-born rabble—the soil-serfs +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +of their chivalric Norman ancestors? The delegates +returned in despair to their homes, to meet their +starving relatives and friends, and tell them there was +not a ray of hope. In France such a rejection of a +humble petition from breadless working-men would +have been followed by a revolution. In Great Britain +the labourers seem to have the inborn submission of +hereditary slaves. Though they feel the iron heel of +the aristocracy upon their necks, and see their families +starving around them, they delay, and still delay, +taking that highway to freedom—manly and united +rebellion.</p> + +<p class="i1">The workmen employed in the factories are subjected +to the cruel treatment of overlookers, who have +the power of masters, and use it as tyrants. If an +operative does not obey an order, he is not merely +reproved, but kicked and beaten as a slave. He dare +not resent, for if he did he would be turned forth to +starve. Such being the system under which he works, +the operative has the look and air of a degraded Helot. +Most of them are unhealthy, destitute of spirit, and +enfeebled by toil and privation. The hand-loom +weavers, who are numerous in some districts, are the +most miserable of the labourers, being hardly able to +earn scant food and filthy shelter.</p> + +<p class="i1">The hundreds of thousands of tender age employed in +all the various branches of manufacture are in all +cases the children of the poor. When the father goes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +to the workhouse he has no longer any control over his +children. They are at the mercy of the parish, and +may be separated, apprenticed to all sorts of masters, +and treated, to all intents and purposes, as slaves. +The invention of labour-saving machinery has brought +the services of children into great demand in the manufacturing +towns. They may be <i>bought</i> at the workhouse +at a cheap rate, and then they must trust to God +alone for their future welfare. There is scarcely an +instance in which the law ever interferes for their protection. +The masters and overlookers are allowed to +beat their younger operatives with impunity.</p> + +<p class="i1">The following evidence contains instances of a treatment +totally barbarous, and such are very frequent, +according to the report of the commissioners:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"When she was a child, too little to put on her ain claithes, +the overlooker used to beat her till she screamed again. Gets +many a good beating and swearing. They are all very ill-used. +The overseer carries a strap. Has been licked four or five +times. The boys are often severely strapped; the girls sometimes +get a clout. The mothers often complain of this. Has +seen the boys have black and blue marks after strapping. Three +weeks ago the overseer struck him in the eye with his clenched +fist, so as to force him to be absent two days. Another overseer +used to beat him with his fist, striking him so that his arm was +black and blue. Has often seen the workers beat cruelly. Has +seen the girls strapped; but the boys were beat so that they fell +to the floor in the course of the beating with a rope with four +tails, called a cat. Has seen the boys black and blue, crying for +mercy.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The other night a little girl came home cruelly beaten; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +wished to go before a magistrate, but was advised not. That +man is always strapping the children. The boys are badly used. +They are whipped with a strap till they cry out and shed tears; +has seen the managers kick and strike them. Has suffered much +from the slubbers' ill treatment. It is the practice of the slubbers +to go out and amuse themselves for an hour or so, and then +make up their work in the same time, which is a great fatigue to +the piecers, keeping them 'on the run' for an hour and a half +together, besides kicking and beating them for doing it badly, +when they were so much tired. The slubbers are all brutes to +the children; they get intoxicated, and then kick them about; +they are all alike. Never complained to the master; did once to +his mother, and she gave him a halfpenny not to mind it, to go +back to work like a good boy. Sometimes he used to be surly, +and would not go, and then she always had that tale about the +halfpenny; sometimes he got the halfpenny, and sometimes not.</p> + +<p class="i1">"He has seen the other children beaten. The little girls standing +at the drawing-head. They would run home and fetch their +mothers sometimes.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Hears the spinners swear very bad at their piecers, and sees +'em lick 'em sometimes; some licks 'em with a strap, some licks +'em with hand; some straps is as long as your arm, some is very +thick, and some thin; don't know where they get the straps. +There is an overlooker in the room; he very seldom comes in; +they won't allow 'em if they knows of it. (Child volunteered +the last observation. Asked how she knew that the overlookers +would not allow the spinners to lick the little hands; answers, +'Because I've heard 'em say so.') Girls cry when struck +with straps; only one girl struck yesterday; they very seldom +strike 'em.</p> + +<p class="i1">"There is an overlooker in the room, who is a man. The +doffer always scolds her when she is idle, not the overlooker; the +doffer is a girl. Sometimes sees her hit the little hands; always +hits them with her hands. Sometimes the overlooker hits the +little hands; always with her hand when she does. Her mother +is a throstle-spinner, in her room. The overseer scolds the little +hands; says he'll bag 'em; sometimes swears at 'em. Sometimes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +overseer beats a 'little hand;' when he does it, it is always +with his open hand; it is not so very hard; sometimes on the +face, sometimes on the back. He never beats her. Some on 'em +cries when they are beat, some doesn't. He beats very seldom; +didn't beat any yesterday, nor last week, nor week before; +doesn't know how long it is ago since she has seen him strike a +girl. If our little helper gets careless we may have occasion to +correct her a bit. Some uses 'em very bad; beats 'em; but only +with the hand; and pulls their ears. Some cry, but not often. +Ours is a good overlooker, but has heard overlookers curse very +bad. The women weavers themselves curse. Has never cursed +herself. Can say so honestly from her heart.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Drawers are entirely under the control of the weavers, said a +master; they must obey their employer; if they do not they are +sometimes beat and sometimes discharged. <i>I chastise them occasionally +with alight whip</i>; do not allow it by my workmen; sometimes +they are punished with a fool's-cap, sometimes with a <i>cane</i>, +but not severely."</p> + +<p class="i1">"William M. Beath, of Mr. Owen's New Lanark Mills, deposed: +'Thinks things improved under Mr. Owen's management. +Recollects seeing children beaten very severe at times. He himself +has been beaten very sore, so bad that his head was not in +its useful state for several days. Recollects, in particular, one +boy—James Barry—who was very unfond of working in the mill, +who was always beaten to his work by his father, with his hands +and feet; the boy was then beaten with a strap by the overseers, +for being too late, and not being willing to come. Has seen him +so beaten by Robert Shirley, William Watson, and Robert Sim. +The boy, James Barry, never came properly to manhood. It was +always conjectured that he had too many beatings. He was the +cruellest beat boy ever I saw there. There was a boy, whose +name he does not recollect, and while he (W. M. B.) was working as +a weaver at Lanark, having left the mill, and his death was attributed +by many to a kick in the groin from Peter Gall, an overseer. +Does not recollect whether the ill usage of the children +above alluded to took place in Mr. Owen's time, or before he +came; but there was certainly a great improvement, in many respects, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +under his management, particularly in cleanliness, shorter +hours, and the establishment of schools. Has been three years +employed in his present situation. Has two children of his own +in the mill. Does not believe (and he has every opportunity of +knowing) that the children of this mill have been tampered with +by anybody, with a view to their testimony before the commissioners, +and that they are not afraid to tell the truth. He +himself would, on account of his children, like a little shorter +hours and a little less wages; they would then have a better +opportunity of attending a night-school.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Henry Dunn, aged twenty-seven, a spinner: 'Has been five +years on this work. Went at eight years of age to Mr. Dunn's +mill at Duntochar; that was a country situation, and much +healthier than factories situated in town. They worked then +from six to eight; twelve hours and a half for work, and one +hour and a half for meals. Liked that mill as well as any he +ever was in. Great attention was paid to the cleanliness and +comfort of the people. The wages were lower there at that time +than they were at Glasgow. After leaving Duntochar, he came +into town to see Mr. Humphrey's, (now Messrs. Robert Thompson,) +which was at that time one continued scene of oppression. +A system of cruelty prevailed there at that time, which was confined +almost entirely to that work. The wheels were very small, +and young men and women of the ages of seventeen and eighteen +were the spinners. There was a tenter to every flat, and he was +considered as a sort of whipper-in, to force the children to extra +exertion. Has seen wounds inflicted upon children by tenters, +by Alexander Drysdale, among others, with a belt or stick, or +the first thing that came uppermost. Saw a kick given by the +above-mentioned Alexander Drysdale, which broke two ribs of a +little boy. Helped to carry the boy down to a surgeon. The +boy had been guilty of some very trifling offence, such as calling +names to the next boy. But the whole was the same; all the +tenters were alike. Never saw any ill-treatment of the children +at this mill. Mr. Stevenson is a very fine man. The machinery +in the spinning department is quite well boxed in—it could not be +better; but the cards might be more protected with great advantage. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +It is very hot in winter, but he can't tell how hot. There +is no thermometer.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Ellen Ferrier, aged thirteen; carries bobbins: 'Has been +three years in this mill. Was one year before in another mill in +this town; doesn't like neither of them very well, because she +was always very tired from working from half-past five o'clock +in the morning until half-past seven, with only two intervals of +half an hour each. She sometimes falls asleep now. She +worked formerly in the lower flat. When Charles Kennedy was +the overseer he licked us very bad, beat our heads with his hand, +and kicked us very bad when the ends were down. He was aye +licking them, and my gademother (stepmother) has two or three +times complained to Mr. Shanks, (senior,) and Mr. S. always told +him about it, but he never minded. Does not know what he left +the mill for. A good many folks went away from this mill just +for Kennedy. Can read; cannot write.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mary Scott, aged fourteen: 'Has been here two years. Was +here with Charles Kennedy. When he has seen us just speaking +to one another, he struck us with his hands and with his feet. He +beat us when he saw any of the ends down. Has seen him strike +Ellen Ferrier (the last witness) very often, just with his hands; +and has seen him strike Betty Sutherland; can't tell how often, +but it was terrible often.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Euphemia Anderson, aged twenty: 'Has been three years at +this mill; has been in different mills since she was seven years +old. About six years ago she was taken ill with pains in the +legs, and remained ill for three years. I wasn't able to stand. +Thinks it was the standing so long that made her ill. She is now +again quite in good health, except that she is sair-footed sometimes. +They have seats to sit down upon. When the work is +bad, we cannot get time to sit down. When the flax is good we +have a good deal of time. Has never seen children beat by +Charles Kennedy, but has heard talk of it; has often heard them +complain of him, never of anybody else. Can read; cannot +write. Never went to a school; never had muckle time. She +would give up some of her wages to have shorter hours. Her +usual dinner is broth and potatoes.'"</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">The next evidence is particularly valuable, as it +came from a person who had left the factory work; +and having an independent business, he may be presumed +to have spoken without fear or favour:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"William Campbell, aged thirty-seven: 'Is a grocer, carrying +on business in Belfast. Was bred up a cotton-spinner. Went +first as a piecer to his father, who was a spinner at Mr. Hussy's +mill, Graham Square, Glasgow, and afterward to several mills in +this place, among which was Mr. John McCrackan's, where he +was, altogether, piecer and spinner between four and five years, +(1811-1818.) There was a regulation at that time there, that +every hand should be fined if five minutes too late at any working +hour in the morning and after meals—the younger 5<i>d.</i>, which +amounted to the whole wages of some of the lesser ones; the +older hands were fined as high as 10<i>d.</i> The treatment of the +children at that time was very cruel. Has seen Robert Martin, +the manager, continually beating the children—with his hands +generally, sometimes with his clenched fist. Has often seen his +sister Jane, then about fourteen, struck by him; and he used to +pinch her ears till the blood came, and pull her hair. The faults +were usually very trifling. If on coming in he should find any +girl combing her hair, that was an offence for which he would +beat her severely, and he would do so if he heard them talking +to one another. He never complained of the ill-usage of his +sister, because he believed if he did, his father and two sisters, +who were both employed in the mill, would have been immediately +dismissed. A complaint was made by the father of a little +girl, against Martin, for beating a child. Mr. Ferrer, the police +magistrate, admonished him. He was a hot-headed, fiery man, +and when he saw the least fault, or what he conceived to be a +fault, he just struck them at once. Does not recollect any child +getting a lasting injury from any beating here. The treatment +of the children at the mill was the only thing which could be +called cruelty which he had witnessed. One great hardship to +people employed in the factories is the want of good water, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +which exists in most of them. At only one of the mills which he +worked at was there water such as could be drunk brought into +the flats, and that was Mr. Holdsworth's mill, Anderson, Glasgow. +From what he recollects of his own and his sister's feelings, +he considers the hours which were then and are still commonly +occupied in actual labour—viz. twelve hours and a half +per day—longer than the health of children can sustain, and also +longer than will admit of any time being reserved in the evening +for their instruction.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">These instances of steady, systematic cruelty, in the +treatment of children, go far beyond any thing recorded +of slave-drivers in other countries. If an American +overseer was to whip a slave to death, an awful groan +would express the horror of English lords and ladies. +But in the factories of Great Britain we have helpless +children not only kicked and beaten, but liable at any +moment to receive a mortal wound from the billy-roller +of an exasperated slubber. Here is more evidence, +which we cannot think will flag in interest:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"John Gibb, eleven years old, solemnly sworn, deposes, 'that +he has been about three years a piecer in one of the spinning-rooms; +that the heat and confinement makes his feet sair, and +makes him sick and have headaches, and he often has a stitch in +his side; that he is now much paler than he used to be; that he +receives 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week, which he gives to his mother; that he is +very desirous of short hours, that he might go to school more than +he can do at present; that the spinners often lick him, when he +is in fault, with taws of leather.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Alexander Wylie, twenty-six years old, solemnly sworn, deposes, +'that he is a spinner in one of the spinning departments; +that most of the spinners keep taws to preserve their authority, +but he does not; that he has seen them pretty severely whipped, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +when they were in fault; that he has seen piecers beat by the +overseers, even with their clenched fists; that he has seen both +boys and girls so treated; that he has seen John Ewan beating +his little piecers severely, even within these few weeks; that +when he had a boy as a piecer, he beat him even more severely +than the girls; that he never saw a thermometer in his flat, till +to-day, when, in consequence of a bet, the heat was tried, and it +was found to be 72°, but that they are spinning coarser cotton in +his flat than in some of the other flats, where greater heat is +requisite.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Bell Sinclair, thirteen years old, solemnly sworn, deposes, +'that she has been about four years in the same flat with John +Gibb, a preceding witness; that all the spinners in the apartment +keep a leather strap, or taws, with which to punish the +piecers, both boys and girls—the young ones chiefly when they +are negligent; that she has been often punished by Francis Gibb +and by Robert Clarke, both with taws and with their hands, and +with his open cuff; that he has licked her on the side of the head +and on her back with his hands, and with the strap on her back +and arms; that she was never much the worse of the beating, +although she has sometimes cried and shed tears when Gibb or +Clarke was hitting her sair.' Deposes that she cannot write.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mary Ann Collins, ten years old, solemnly sworn, deposes, +'that she has been a year in one of the spinning-rooms in which +John Ewan is a spinner; that yesterday he gave her a licking +with the taws; that all the spinners keep taws except Alexander +Wylie; that he beat her once before till she grat; that she has +sometimes a pain in her breast, and was absent yesterday on that +account.' Deposes that she cannot write.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Daniel McGinty, twenty-two years old, solemnly sworn, +deposes, 'that he has been nearly two years a spinner here; +that he notices the piecers frequently complain of bad health; +that he was a petitioner for short hours, so that the people might +have more time for their education as well as for health; that he +had a strap to punish the children when they were in fault, but +he has not had one for some time, and the straps are not so common +now as they were formerly; that he and the other spinners +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +prefer giving the piecers a lick on the side of the head with their +hands, than to use a strap at all; that he has seen instances of +piecers being knocked down again and again, by a blow from the +hand, in other mills, but not since he came to this one; that he +has been knocked down himself in Barrowfield mill, by Lauchlin +McWharry, the spinner to whom he was a piecer.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Isabella Stewart, twenty-two years old, solemnly sworn, deposes, +'that she has been four years at this mill, and several +years at other mills; that she is very hoarse, and subject to +cough, and her feet and ankles swell in the evening; that she is +very anxious for short hours—thirteen hours are real lang hours—but +she has nothing else to find fault with; that Alexander +Simpson straps the young workers, and even gives her, or any of +the workers, if they are too late, a lick with the strap across the +shoulders; that he has done this within a week or two; that he +sometimes gives such a strap as to hurt her, but it is only when +he is in a passion.' Deposes that 'she cannot write. In the +long hours they canna get time to write nor to do nae thing.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"James Patterson, aged sixty years, solemnly sworn, deposes, +'that he is an overseer in Messrs. James and William Brown's +flax-spinning mill, at Dundee, and has been in their employment +for about seven years; that he was previously at the spinning +mill at Glamis for twelve years, and there lost his right hand +and arm, caught by the belt of the wheels, in the preparing +floor; that he is in the reeling flat, with the women, who are +tired and sleepy; one of them—Margaret Porter—at present in +bed, merely from standing so long for a fortnight past; that it +would be God's blessing for every one to have shorter hours; +that he has been about forty years in spinning-mills, and has +seen the young people so lashed with a leather belt that they +could hardly stand: that at Trollick, a mill now given up, he has +seen them lashed, skin naked, by the manager, James Brown; +that at Moniferth he has seen them taken out of bed, when they +did not get up in time, and lashed with horsewhips to their work, +carrying their clothes, while yet naked, to the work, in their arms +with them.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"William Roe, (examined at his own request:) 'I am constable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +of Radford. I was in the army. I went to work with Mr. +Wilson in 1825. I had been with Strutts, at Belper, before +that. The reason I left was this: I was told the overlooker was +leathering one of my boys. I had two sons there. The overlooker +was Crooks. I found him strapping the boy, and I struck +him. I did not stop to ask whether the boy had done any thing. +I had heard of his beating him before. Smith came up, and said +I should work there no more till I had seen Mr. Wilson. My +answer was, that neither I nor mine should ever work more for +such a mill as that was. It was but the day before I took the +boy to Smith, to show him that he had no time to take his victuals +till he came out at twelve. There was no satisfaction, but +he laughed at it. That was the reason I took the means into my +own hands. Crooks threatened to fetch a warrant for me, but +did not. I told him the master durst not let him. The boy had +been doing nothing, only could not keep up his work enough to +please them. I left the mill, and took away my sons. One was +ten, the other was between eight and nine. They went there +with me. The youngest was not much past eight when he went. +I heard no more of it. I put all my reasons down in a letter to +Mr. Wilson, but I heard no more of it. Smith was sent away +afterward, but I don't know why. I have heard it was for different +ill-usages. Crooks is there now. Hogg was the overlooker +in my room. I have often seen him beat a particular boy who +was feeding cards. One day he pulled his ear till he pulled it +out of the socket, and it bled very much. I mean he tore the +bottom of the ear from the head. I went to him and said, if that +boy was mine I'd give him a better threshing than ever he had +in his life. It was reported to Mr. S. Wilson, and he told me I +had better mind my own business, and not meddle with the overlookers. +I never heard that the parents complained. Mr. S. Wilson +is dead now. Mr. W. Wilson said to me afterward, I had +made myself very forward in meddling with the overlookers' business. +I was to have come into the warehouse at Nottingham, but +in consequence of my speaking my mind I lost the situation. I +never had any complaint about my work while I was there, nor +at Mr. Strutt's. I left Mr. Strutt's in hopes to better myself. I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +came as a machine smith. I went back to Mr. Strutt's, at Milford, +after I left Wilson, for two years. The men never had more +than twenty-five minutes for their dinner, and no extra pay for +stopping there. I dressed the top cards, and ground them. I +never heard that Mr. Wilson proposed to stop the breakfast hour, +and that the hands wished to go on. I don't think such a thing +could be. Whilst I worked there we always went in at half-past +five, and worked till nigh half-past seven. We were never paid +a farthing overtime. At Strutt's, if ever we worked an hour +overtime, we were paid an hour and a half. I have seen Smith +take the girls by the hair with one hand, and slap them in +the face with the other; big and little, it made no difference. +He worked there many years before he was turned away. He +works in the mill again now, but not as an overlooker. I +never knew of any complaint to the magistrate against Smith. +I had 12<i>s.</i> when I was there for standing wages. It was about +nine in the morning my boy was beat. I think it was in the +middle of the day the boy's ear was pulled. The work was +very severe there while it lasted. A boy generally had four +breakers and finisher-cards to mind. Such a boy might mind +six when he had come on to eleven or twelve; I mean finishers. +A boy can mind from three to four breakers. Any way they had +not time to get their victuals. I don't know what the present +state of the mill is as to beating. Men will not complain to the +magistrates while work is so scarce, and they are liable to be +turned out; and if they go to the parish, why there it is, 'Why, +you had work, why did you not stay at it?'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Robert Blincoe, a small manufacturer, once an apprentice +to a cotton mill, and one who had seen and +suffered much in factories, was sworn and examined by +Dr. Hawkins, on the 18th of May, 1833. In the evidence, +which follows, it will be noted that most of the +sufferers mentioned were parish children, without protectors +of any kind:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you know where you were born?' 'No; I only know +that I came out of St. Pancras parish, London.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you know the name of your parents?' 'No. I used to +be called, when young, Robert Saint; but when I received my +indentures I was called Robert Blincoe; and I have gone by that +name ever since.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What age are you?' 'Near upon forty, according to my +indentures."</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Have you no other means of knowing your age but what +you find in your indentures?' 'No, I go by that.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you work at a cotton mill?' 'Not now. I was bound +apprentice to a cotton mill for fourteen years, from St. Pancras +parish; then I got my indentures. I worked five or six years +after, at different mills, but now I have got work of my own. I +rent power from a mill in Stockport, and have a room to myself. +My business is a sheet wadding manufacturer.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Why did you leave off working at the cotton mills?' 'I +got tired of it, the system is so bad; and I had saved a few +pounds. I got deformed there; my knees began to bend in when +I was fifteen; you see how they are, (showing them.) There are +many, many far worse than me at Manchester.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Can you take exercise with ease?' 'A very little makes +me sweat in walking. I have not the strength of those who are +straight.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Have you ever been in a hospital, or under doctors, for your +knees or legs?' 'Never in a hospital, or under doctors for that, +but from illness from over-work I have been. When I was near +Nottingham there were about eighty of us together, boys and +girls, all 'prenticed out from St. Pancras parish, London, to cotton +mills; many of us used to be ill, but the doctors said it was +only for want of kitchen physic, and want of more rest.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Had you any accidents from machinery?' 'No, nothing to +signify much; I have not myself, but I saw, on the 6th of March +last, a man killed by machinery at Stockport; he was smashed, +and he died in four or five hours; I saw him while the accident +took place; he was joking with me just before; it was in my own +room. I employ a poor sore cripple under me, who could not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +easily get work anywhere else. A young man came good-naturedly +from another room to help my cripple, and he was accidentally +drawn up by the strap, and was killed. I have known +many such accidents take place in the course of my life.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Recollect a few.' 'I cannot recollect the exact number, but +I have known several: one was at Lytton Mill, at Derbyshire; +another was the master of a factory at Staley Bridge, of the +name of Bailey. Many more I have known to receive injuries, +such as the loss of a limb. There is plenty about Stockport that +is going about now with one arm; they cannot work in the +mills, but they go about with jackasses and such like. One girl, +Mary Richards, was made a cripple, and remains so now, when I +was in Lowdham mill, near Nottingham. She was lapped up by +a shaft underneath the drawing-frame. That is now an old-fashioned +machinery.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Have you any children?' 'Three.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you send them to factories?' 'No. I would rather +have them transported. In the first place, they are standing +upon one leg, lifting up one knee a greater part of the day, keeping +the ends up from the spindle. I consider that that employment +makes many cripples; then there is the heat and dust; +then there are so many different forms of cruelty used upon +them; then they are so liable to have their fingers catched, and +to suffer other accidents from the machinery; then the hours is +so long that I have seen them tumble down asleep among the +straps and machinery, and so get cruelly hurt; then I would not +have a child of mine there, because there is not good morals; +there is such a lot of them together that they learn mischief.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What do you do with your children?' 'My eldest of thirteen +has been to school, and can teach me. She now stays at +home, and helps her mother in the shop. She is as tall as me, +and is very heavy. Very different from what she would have +been if she had worked in a factory. My two youngest go to +school, and are both healthy. I send them every day two miles +to school. I know from experience the ills of confinement.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What are the forms of cruelty that you spoke of just now as +being practised upon children in factories?' 'I have seen the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +time when two hand-vices, of a pound weight each, more or less, +have been screwed to my ears at Lytton mill, in Derbyshire. +Here are the scars still remaining behind my ears. Then three +or four of us have been hung at once to a cross-beam above the +machinery, hanging by our hands, without shirts or stockings. +Mind, we were apprentices, without father or mother, to take care +of us; I don't say they often do that now. Then, we used to +stand up, in a skip, without our shirts, and be beat with straps +or sticks; the skip was to prevent us from running away from +the strap.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you think such things are done now in Manchester?' +'No, not just the same things; but I think the children are still +beaten by overlookers; not so much, however, in Manchester, +where justice is always at hand, as in country places. Then they +used to tie on a twenty-eight pounds weight, (one or two at once,) +according to our size, to hang down on our backs, with no shirts +on. I have had them myself. Then they used to tie one leg up +to the faller, while the hands were tied behind. I have a book +written about these things, describing my own life and sufferings. +I will send it to you.'<a name="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do the masters know of these things, or were they done only +by the overlookers?' 'The masters have often seen them, and +have been assistants in them.'</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The work is so protracted that the children are exhausted, +and many become crippled from standing too +long in unhealthy positions:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"John Wright, steward in the silk factory of Messrs. Brinsley +and Shatwell, examined by Mr. Tufnell.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What are the effects of the present system of labour?' 'From +my earliest recollections, I have found the effects to be awfully +detrimental to the well-being of the operative; I have observed, +frequently, children carried to factories, unable to walk, and that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +entirely owing to excessive labour and confinement. The degradation +of the work-people baffles all description; frequently have +two of my sisters been obliged to be assisted to the factory and +home again, until by and by they could go no longer, being totally +crippled in their legs. And in the next place, I remember +some ten or twelve years ago working in one of the largest firms +in Macclesfield, (Messrs. Baker and Pearson,) with about twenty-five +men, where they were scarce one-half fit for his majesty's +service. Those that are straight in their limbs are stunted in +their growth, much inferior to their fathers in point of strength. +3dly. Through excessive labour and confinement there is often a +total loss of appetite; a kind of languor steals over the whole +frame, enters to the very core, saps the foundation of the best constitution, +and lays our strength prostrate in the dust. In the +fourth place, by protracted labour there is an alarming increase +of cripples in various parts of this town, which has come under +my own observation and knowledge.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Young sufferers gave the following evidence to the +commissioners:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Many a time has been so fatigued that she could hardly take +off her clothes at night, or put them on in the morning; her mother +would be raging at her, because when she sat down she could +not get up again through the house.' 'Looks on the long hours +as a great bondage.' 'Thinks they are not much better than the +Israelites in Egypt, and their life is no pleasure to them.' 'When +a child, was so tired that she could seldom eat her supper, and +never awoke of herself.'—'Are the hours to be shortened?' earnestly +demanded one of these girls of the commissioner who was +examining her, 'for they are too long.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The truth of the account given by the children of +the fatigue they experience by the ordinary labour of +the factory is confirmed by the testimony of their +parents. In general, the representation made by parents +is like the following: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Her children come home so tired and worn out they can +hardly eat their supper.' 'Has often seen his daughter come +home in the evening so fatigued that she would go to bed supper-less,' +'Has seen the young workers absolutely oppressed, and +unable to sit down or rise up; this has happened to his own +children.'</p></div> + +<p class="i1">These statements are confirmed by the evidence of +the adult operatives. The depositions of the witnesses +of this class are to the effect, that "the younger workers +are greatly fatigued;" that "children are often very +severe (unwilling) in the mornings;" that "children are +quite tired out;" that "the long hours exhaust the +workers, especially the young ones, to such a degree +that they can hardly walk home;" that "the young +workers are absolutely oppressed, and so tired as to be +unable to sit down or rise up;" that "younger workers +are so tired they often cannot raise their hands to their +head;" that "all the children are very keen for short +hours, thinking them now such bondage that they might +as well be in a prison;" that "the children, when engaged +in their regular work, are often exhausted beyond what +can be expressed;" that "the sufferings of the children +absolutely require that the hours should be shortened."</p> + +<p class="i1">The depositions of the overlookers are to the same +effect, namely, that "though the children may not complain, +yet that they seem tired and sleepy, and happy +to get out of doors to play themselves. That, "the +work over-tires the workers in general." "Often sees +the children very tired and stiff-like." "Is entirely of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +opinion, after real experience, that the hours of labour +are far too long for the children, for their health and +education; has from twenty-two to twenty-four boys +under his charge, from nine to about fourteen years old, +and they are generally much tired at night, always +anxious, asking if it be near the mill-stopping." "Never +knew a single worker among the children that did not +complain of the long hours, which prevent them from +getting education, and from getting health in the open +air."</p> + +<p class="i1">The managers in like manner state, that "the labour +exhausts the children;" that "the workers are tired in +the evening;" that "children inquire anxiously for the +hour of stopping." And admissions to the same effect, +on the part of managers and proprietors, will be found +in every part of the Scotch depositions.</p> + +<p class="i1">In the north-eastern district the evidence is equally +complete that the fatigue of the young workers is great.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'I have known the children,' says one witness, 'to hide themselves +in the store among the wool, so that they should not go +home when the work was over, when we have worked till ten or +eleven. I have seen six or eight fetched out of the store and beat +home; beat out of the mill however; I do not know why they +should hide themselves, unless it was that they were too tired to +go home.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Many a one I have had to rouse in the last hour, when the +work is very slack, from fatigue.' 'The children were very much +jaded, especially when we worked late at night.' 'The children +bore the long hours very ill indeed.' 'Exhausted in body and +depressed in mind by the length of the hours and the height of +the temperature.' 'I found, when I was an overlooker, that, after +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +the children from eight to twelve years had worked eight, nine, +or ten hours, they were nearly ready to faint; some were asleep; +some were only kept to work by being spoken to, or by a little +chastisement, to make them jump up. I was sometimes obliged +to chastise them when they were almost fainting, and it hurt my +feelings; then they would spring up and work pretty well for +another hour; but the last two or three hours were my hardest +work, for they then got so exhausted,' 'I have never seen fathers +carrying their children backward nor forward to the factories; +but I have seen children, apparently under nine, and from nine +to twelve years of age, going to the factories at five in the morning +almost asleep in the streets.'"</p> + +<p class="i1">"Ellen Cook, card-filler: 'I was fifteen last winter. I worked +on then sometimes day and night;—may be twice a week; I used +to earn 4<i>s.</i> a week; I used to go home to dinner; I was a feeder +then; I am a feeder still. We used to come at half-past eight at +night, and work all night till the rest of the girls came in the +morning; they would come at seven, I think. Sometimes we +worked on till half-past eight the next night, after we had been +working all the night before. We worked on meal-hours, except +at dinner. I have done that sometimes three nights a week, and +sometimes four nights. It was just as the overlooker chose. John +Singleton; he is overlooker now. Sometimes the slubbers would +work on all night too; not always. The pieceners would have to +stay all night then too. It was not often though that the slubbers +worked all night. We worked by ourselves. It was when one of the +boilers was spoiled; that was the reason we had to work all night. +The engine would not carry all the machines. I was paid for the +over-hours when we worked day and night; not for meal-hours. +We worked meal-hours, but were not paid for them. George Lee +is the slubber in this room. He has worked all night; not often, +I think; not above twice all the time we worked so; sometimes +he would not work at all. The pieceners would work too when +he did. They used to go to sleep, poor things! when they had +over-hours in the night. I think they were ready enough to sleep +sometimes, when they only worked in the daytime. I never was a +piecener; sometimes I go to help them when there are a good +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +many cardings. We have to get there by half-past five, in the +morning, now. The engine begins then. We don't go home to +breakfast. Sometimes we have a quarter of an hour; sometimes +twenty minutes; sometimes none. Them in the top-room have a +full half hour. We can't take half an hour if we like it; we should +get jawed; we should have such a noise, we should not hear the +last of it. The pieceners in this room (there were four) have the +same time as we do. In some of the rooms they forfeit them if +they are five minutes too late; they don't in this room. The +slubber often beats the pieceners. He has a strap, and wets it, +and gives them a strap over the hands, poor things! They cry +out ever so loud sometimes; I don't know how old they are.'"</p> + +<p class="i1">"James Simpson, aged twenty-four, solemnly sworn, deposes: +'That he has been about fifteen years in spinning mills; that he +has been nearly a year as an overseer in Mr. Kinmond's mill here, +and was dismissed on the 2d of May, for supporting, at a meeting +of the operatives, the Ten Hours Bill; that he was one of the persons +to receive subscriptions, in money, to forward the business, +and was dismissed, not on a regular pay-day, but on a Thursday +evening, by James Malcolm, manager, who told him that he was +dismissed for being a robber to his master in supporting the Ten +Hours Bill; that by the regulations of the mill he was entitled to +a week's notice, and that a week's wages were due to him at the +time, but neither sum has been paid; that he was two or three times +desired by the overseer to strike the boys if he saw them at any +time sitting, and has accordingly struck them with a strap, but never +so severely as to hurt them; that he is not yet employed.' And +the preceding deposition having been read over to him, he was +cautioned to be perfectly sure that it was true in all particulars, +as it would be communicated to the overseer named by him, and +might still be altered if, in any particular, he wished the change +of a word; but he repeated his assertion, on oath, that it was.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Ann Kennedy, sixteen years old, solemnly sworn, deposes: +'That she has been nearly a year a piecer to James McNish, a +preceding witness; that she has had swelled feet for about a year, +but she thinks them rather better; that she has a great deal of +pain, both in her feet and legs, so that she was afraid she would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +not be able to go on with the work; that she thought it was owing +to the heat and the long standing on her feet; that it is a very +warm room she is in; that she sometimes looks at the thermometer +and sees it at 82°, or 84, or 86°; that all the people in the +room are very pale, and a good deal of them complaining.' Deposes, +that she cannot write.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Joseph Hurtley, aged forty-four: 'Is an overlooker of the +flax-dressing department. Has been there since the commencement. +Thinks, from what he observes, that the hours are too +long for children. Is led to think so from seeing the children +much exhausted toward the conclusion of the work. When he +came here first, and the children were all new to the work, he +found that by six o'clock they began to be drowsy and sleepy. +He took different devices to keep them awake, such as giving +them snuff, &c.; but this drowsiness partly wore off in time, from +habit, but he still observes the same with all the boys, (they are +all boys in his department,) and it continues with them for some +time. Does not know whether the children go to school in the +evening, but he thinks, from their appearance, that they would +be able to receive very little benefit from tuition.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The occupation of draw-boys and girls to harness hand-loom +weavers, in their own shops, is by far the lowest and least sought +after of any connected with the manufacture of cotton. They are +poor, neglected, ragged, dirty children. They seldom are taught +any thing, and they work as long as the weaver, that is, as long +as they can see, standing on the same spot, always barefooted, on +an earthen, cold, damp floor, in a close, damp cellar, for thirteen +or fourteen hours a day.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The power-loom dressers have all been hand-loom weavers, +but now prevent any more of their former companions from being +employed in their present business.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'They earn 2<i>s.</i> per week, and eat porridge, if their parents +can afford it; if not, potatoes and salt. They are, almost always, +between nine and thirteen years of age, and look healthy, though +some have been two or three years at the business; while the +weaver, for whom they draw, is looking pale, squalid, and underfed.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'There are some hundreds of children thus employed in the +immediate neighbourhood of Glasgow.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In Leicester, Mr. Drinkwater, of the Factory Commission, +found that great cruelty was practised upon +the children employed in some of the factories, by the +workmen called "slubbers," for whom the young creatures +act as piecers. Thomas Hough, a trimmer and +dyer, who had worked at Robinson's factory, deposed—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'The children were beaten at the factory; I complained, and +they were turned away. If I could have found the man at the +time there would have something happened, I am sure. I knew +the man; it was the slubber with whom they worked. His name +was Smith. Robinson had the factory then. I had my second +son in to Mr. Robinson, and stripped him, and showed him how +cruelly he had been beaten. There were nineteen bruises on his +back and posteriors. It was not with the billy-roller. It was +with the strap. He has often been struck with the billy-roller +at other times, over the head. Robinson rebuked the man, and +said he should not beat them any more. The children were beat +several times after that; and on account of my making frequent +complaints they turned the children away. They worked with +Smith till they left. Smith was of a nasty disposition, rather. +I would say of the slubbers generally, that they are a morose, ill-tempered +set. Their pay depends on the children's work. The +slubbers are often off drinking, and then they must work harder +to get the cardings up. I have seen that often. That is in the +lamb's-wool trade. Mr. Gamble is one of the most humane men +that ever lived, by all that I hear, and he will not allow the slubbers +to touch the children, on any pretence; if they will not +work, he turns them away. There gets what they call flies on +the cardings, that is, when the cardings are not properly pieced; +and it is a general rule to strike the children when that happens +too often. They allow so many ratched cardings, as they call +them, in a certain time; and if there are more, they call the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +children round to the billy-gate and strap them. I have seen the +straps which some of them use; they are as big as the strap on +my son's lathe yonder, about an inch broad, (looking at it.) Oh, +it is bigger than this, (it measured 7-8ths.) It is about an inch. +I have seen the children lie down on the floor, and the slubber +strike on them as they lay. It depends entirely on the temper of +the man; sometimes they will only swear at them, sometimes +they will beat them. They will be severe with them at one time, +and very familiar at another, and run on with all sorts of debauched +language, and take indecent liberties with the feeders +and other big girls, before the children. That is the reason why +they call the factories hell-holes. There are some a good deal different. +The overlookers do not take much notice generally. They +pick out bullies, generally, for overlookers. It is very necessary +to have men of a determined temper to keep the hands in order.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I have known my children get strapped two or three times +between a meal. At all times of the day. Sometimes they +would escape for a day or two together, just as it might happen. +Then they get strapped for being too late. They make the children +sum up, that is, pick up the waste, and clean up the billies +during the meal-time, so that the children don't get their time. +The cruelty complained of in the factories is chiefly from the +slubbers. There is nobody so closely connected with the children +as the slubbers. There is no other part of the machinery +with which I am acquainted where the pay of the man depends +on the work of the children so much.'"</p> + +<p class="i1">"Joseph Badder, a slubber, deposed: 'Slubbing and spinning +is very heavy. Those machines are thrown aside now. The +spinners did not like them, nor the masters neither. They did +not turn off such stuff as they expected. I always found it more +difficult to keep my piecers awake the last hours of a winter's +evening. I have told the master, and I have been told by him +that I did not half hide them. This was when they were working +from six to eight. I have known the children hide themselves +in the store among the wool, so that they should not go home +when the work was over, when we have worked till ten or eleven. +I have seen six or eight fetched out of the store and beat home; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +beat out of the mill. However, I do not know why they should +hide themselves, unless it was they were too tired to go home. +My piecers had two hours for meals. Other parts of the work I +have known them work children, from seven to twelve in age, +from six in the morning till ten or eleven at night, and give no +time for meals; eat their victuals as they worked; the engines +running all the time. The engine never stopped at meal-times; +it was just as the spinner chose whether the children worked on +or not. They made more work if they went on. I never would +allow any one to touch my piecers. The foreman would come at +times, and has strapped them, and I told him I would serve him +the same if he touched them. I have seen the man who worked +the other billy beat his piecers. I have seen children knocked +down by the billy-rollers. It is a weapon that a man will easily +take up in a passion. I do not know any instance of a man being +prosecuted for it. The parents are unwilling, for fear the children +should lose their work. I know Thorpe has been up before the +magistrate half a dozen times or more, on the complaint of the +parents. He has been before the bench, at the Exchange, as we +call it, and I have seen him when he came back, when the magistrates +have reprimanded Thorpe, and told the parents they had +better take the children away. After that he has been sometimes +half drunk, perhaps, and in a passion, and would strap them for +the least thing, more than he did before. I remember once that +he was fined; it was about two years and a half ago; it was for +beating a little girl; he was fined 10<i>s.</i> I have seen him strap +the women when they took the part of the children. The master +complained he was not strict enough. I know from Thorpe that +the master always paid his expenses when he was before the +magistrate. I believe they generally do in all the factories. I +have frequently had complaints against myself by the parents of +the children, for beating them. I used to beat them. I am sure +no man can do without it who works long hours; I am sure he +cannot. I told them I was very sorry after I had done it, but I +was forced to do it. The master expected me to do my work, and +I could not do mine unless they did theirs. One lad used to say +to me frequently, (he was a jocular kind of lad,) that he liked a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +good beating at times, it helped him to do his work. I used to +joke with them to keep up their spirits. <i>I have seen them fall +asleep, and they have been performing their work with their hands +while they were asleep, after the billy had stopped, when their work +was done. I have stopped and looked at them for two minutes, +going through the motions of piecening, fast asleep, when there was +really no work to do, and they were really doing nothing.</i> I believe, +when we have been working long hours, that they have never +been washed, but on a Saturday night, for weeks together.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Thomas Clarke, (examined at request of Joseph Badder:) +'I am aged eleven, I work at Cooper's factory; the rope-walk. I +spin there. I earn 4<i>s.</i> a week there. I have been there about +one year and a half. I was in Ross's factory before that. I was +piecener there. I piecened for Joseph Badder one while, then for +George Castle. I piecened for Badder when he left. Badder told +me I was wanted here. We have not been talking about it. I +remember that Jesse came to the machine, and Badder would not +let him go nigh, and so they got a scuffling about it. I was very +nigh nine years of age when I first went to piecen. I got 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> +a week, at first. I think I was a good hand at it. When I had +been there half a year I got 3<i>s.</i> Badder used to strap me some +odd times. Some odd times he'd catch me over the head, but it +was mostly on the back. He made me sing out. He has taken +the billy-roller to me sometimes; about four times, I think. He +used to take us over the shoulders with that; he would have done +us an injury if he had struck us over the head. I never saw any +one struck over the head with a billy-roller. He would strap us +about twelve times at once. He used to strap us sometimes over +the head. He used to strap us for letting his cards run through. +I believe it was my fault. If we had had cardings to go on with +we would have kept it from running through. It was nobody's +fault that there were no cardings, only the slubber's fault that +worked so hard. I have had, maybe, six stacks of cardings put +up while he was out. When he came in, he would work harder +to work down the stacks. Sometimes he would stop the card. +He used to strap us most when he was working hardest. He did +not strap us more at night than he did in the daytime. He would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +sometimes stay half a day. When he was away, as soon as we +had six stacks of cardings up, the rule was to stop, and then we'd +pick up the waste about the room, and take a play sometimes, but +very seldom. Mr. Ross paid me. Badder never paid me when +he was out. I never got any money from Badder. I used sometimes +to fall asleep. The boy next to me used often to fall asleep: +John Breedon; he got many a stroke. That was when we were +working for Castle; that would be about six o'clock. He was +about the size of me; he was older than I was. They always +strapped us if we fell asleep. Badder was a better master than +Castle. Castle used to get a rope, about as thick as my thumb, +and double it, and put knots in it, and lick us with that. That +was a good bit worse than the strap. I was to no regular master +afterward; I used to do bits about the room. I ran away +because Thorpe used to come and strap me. He did not know +what he was strapping me for; it was just as he was in his +humours. I never saw such a man; he would strap any one +as did not please him. I only worked for him a week or two. +I didn't like it, and I ran away. He would strap me if even there +was a bit of waste lying about the room. I have had marks on +my back from Castle's strapping me.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In Nottingham, also, there is much cruelty shown in +the treatment of the children, as will appear from the +following evidence taken by Mr. Power:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Williamson, the father: 'My two sons, one ten, the other +thirteen, work at Milnes's factory, at Lenton. They go at half-past +five in the morning; don't stop at breakfast or tea-time. +They stop at dinner half an hour. Come home at a quarter before +ten. They used to work till ten, sometimes eleven, sometimes +twelve. They earn between them 6<i>s.</i> 2<i>d.</i> per week. One of them, +the eldest, worked at Wilson's for 2 years at 2<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i> a week. He +left because the overlooker beat him and loosened a tooth for him. +I complained, and they turned him away for it. They have been +gone to work sixteen hours now; they will be very tired when +they come home at half-past nine. I have a deal of trouble to get +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +'em up in the morning. I have been obliged to beat 'em with a +strap in their shirts, and to pinch 'em, in order to get them well +awake. It made me cry to be obliged to do it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you make them cry?' 'Yes, sometimes. They will be +home soon, very tired, and you will see them.' I preferred walking +toward the factory to meet them. I saw the youngest only, +and asked him a few questions. He said, 'I'm sure I shan't stop +to talk to you; I want to go home and get to bed; I must be up +at half-past five again to-morrow morning.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"G— — and A— —, examined. The boy: 'I am +going fourteen: my sister is eleven. I have worked in Milnes's +factory two years. She goes there also. We are both in the +clearing-room. I think we work too long hours; I've been badly +with it. We go at half-past five, give over at half-past nine. I'm +now just come home. We sometimes stay till twelve. We are +obliged to work over-hours. I have 4<i>s.</i> a week; that is, for staying +from six till seven. They pay for over-hours besides. I asked +to come away one night, lately, at eight o'clock, being ill; I was +told if I went I must not come again. I am not well now. I +can seldom eat any breakfast; my appetite is very bad. I have +had a bad cold for a week.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Father: 'I believe him to be ill from being over-worked. My +little girl came home the other day, cruelly beaten. I took her to +Mr. Milnes; did not see him, but showed Mrs. Milnes the marks. +I thought of taking it before a magistrate, but was advised to let +it drop. They might have turned both my children away. That +man's name is Blagg; he is always strapping the children. I +shan't let the boy go to them much longer; I shall try to apprentice +him; it's killing him by inches; he falls asleep over his +food at night. I saw an account of such things in the newspaper, +and thought how true it was of my own children.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mother: 'I have worked in the same mills myself. The same +man was there then. I have seen him behave shocking to the +children. He would take 'em by the hair of the head and drag +'em about the room. He has been there twelve years. There's +a many young ones in that hot room. There's six of them badly +now, with bad eyes and sick-headache. This boy of ours has +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +always been delicate from a child. His appetite is very bad now; +he does not eat his breakfast sometimes for two or three days +together. The little girl bears it well; she is healthy. I should +prefer their coming home at seven, without additional wages. +The practice of working over-hours has been constantly pursued +at Milnes's factory.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Fortesque, at his own house, nine +<span class="sc">P.M.</span> 'I am an overlooker +in this factory. We have about one hundred hands. Forty +quite children; most of the remainder are young women. Our +regular day is from six to seven. It should be an hour for dinner, +but it is only half an hour. I don't know how it comes so. We +have had some bad men in authority who made themselves big; +it is partly the master. No time is allowed for tea or breakfast; +there used to be a quarter of an hour for each; it's altered now. +We call it twelve hours a day. Over-time is paid for extra. When +we are busy we work over-hours. Our present time is till half-past +nine. It has been so all winter, and since to this time. We +have some very young ones; as young as eight. I don't like to +take them younger; they're not able to do our work. We have +three doubling-rooms, a clearing-room, and a gassing-room. We +have about forty in the clearing-room. We occasionally find it +necessary to make a difference as to the time of keeping some of +the children. We have done so several times. Master has said: +Pick out the youngest, and let them go, and get some of the +young women to take their places. I am not the overlooker to the +clearing-room. Blagg is overlooker there; there has been many +complaints against him. He's forced to be roughish in order to +keep his place. If he did not keep the work going on properly +there would be some one to take his place who would. There +are some children so obstinate and bad they must be punished. +A strap is used. Beating is necessary, on account of their being +idle. We find it out often in this way: we give them the same +number of bobbins each; when the number they ought to finish +falls off, then they're corrected. They would try the patience of +any man. It is not from being tired, I think. It happens as +often in the middle of the day as at other times. I don't like the +beating myself; I would rather there were little deductions in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +their earnings for these offences. I am sure the children would +not like to have any of their earnings stopped; I am sure they +would mind it. From what I have heard parents say about their +children when at work, I am sure they (the parents) would +prefer this mode of correction; and, I think, it would have an effect +on the children. At the factory of Messrs. Mills and Elliot they +go on working all the night as well as day. I believe them to +have done so for the last year and a half; they have left it off +about a week. (<i>A respectable female here entered with a petition +against negro-slavery; after she was gone, Mr. Fortesque continued.</i>) +I think home slavery as bad as it can be abroad; worst of anywhere +in the factories. The hours we work are much too long +for young people. Twelve hours' work is enough for young or +old, confined in a close place. The work is light, but it's standing +so long that tires them. I have been here about two years; +I have seen bad effects produced on people's health by it, but not +to any great degree. It must be much worse at Mills and Elliot's; +working night as well as day, the rooms are never clear of people's +breaths. We set our windows open when we turn the hands out. +The gas, too, which they use at night, makes it worse.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The italicised parenthesis is, <i>bonâ fide</i>, a part of the +Report, as may be proved by consulting the parliamentary +document. The <i>respectable female</i> was probably +the original of Dickens's Mrs. Jellaby.</p> + +<p class="i1">Read these references to a case of barbarity in a +factory at Wigan:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="indent1_5"><i>Extract from a speech made by Mr. Grant, a Manchester spinner, +at a meeting held at Chorlton-upon-Medlock; reported in the +Manchester Courier of 20th April, 1833.</i></p></div> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Much was said of the black slaves and their chains. No +doubt they were entitled to freedom, but were there no slaves +except those of sable hue? Has slavery no sort of existence +among children of the factories? Yes, and chains were sometimes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +introduced, though those chains might not be forged of +iron. He would name an instance of this kind of slavery, which +took place at Wigan. A child, not ten years of age, having been +late at the factory one morning, had, as a punishment, a rope +put round its neck, to which a weight of twenty pounds was +attached; and, thus burdened like a galley-slave, it was compelled +to labour for a length of time in the midst of an impure +atmosphere and a heated room. [Loud cries of, Shame!] The +truth of this has been denied by Mr. Richard Potter, the member +for Wigan; but he (the speaker) reiterated its correctness. He +has seen the child; and its mother's eyes were filled with tears +while she told him this shocking tale of infant suffering."</p></div> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="indent1_5"><i>Extract from a speech made by Mr. Oastler, on the occasion of a +meeting at the City of London Tavern; reported in the Times, +of the 25th of February, 1833.</i></p></div> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In a mill at Wigan, the children, for any slight neglect, were +loaded with weights of twenty pounds, passed over their shoulders +and hanging behind their backs. Then there was a murderous +instrument called a billy-roller, about eight feet long and +one inch and a half in diameter, with which many children had +been knocked down, and in some instances murdered by it."</p></div> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="indent1_5"><i>Extract from a speech made by Mr. Oastler, at a meeting held in +the theatre at Bolton, and reported in the Bolton Chronicle, of the +30th of March, 1833.</i></p></div> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In one factory they have a door which covers a quantity of +cold water, in which they plunge the sleepy victim to awake it. +In Wigan they tie a great weight to their backs. I knew the +Russians made the Poles carry iron weights in their exile to Siberia, +but it was reserved for Christian England thus to use an +infant."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Rowland Detroiser deposed before the Central Board +of Commissioners, concerning the treatment of children +in the cotton factories: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'The children employed in a cotton-factory labour, are not all +under the control or employed by the proprietor. A very considerable +number is employed and paid by the spinners and +stretchers, when there are stretchers. These are what are called +piecers and scavengers; the youngest children being employed in +the latter capacity, and as they grow up, for a time in the scavengers +and piecers. In coarse mills, that is, mills in which low +numbers of yarn are spun, the wages of the scavengers is commonly +from 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> to 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, according to size and ability. The +men do not practise the system of fining, generally speaking, and +especially toward these children. The sum which they earn is +so small it would be considered by many a shame to make it less. +They do not, however, scruple to give them a good bobbying, as +it is called; that is, beating them with a rope thickened at one +end, or, in some few brutal instances, with the combined weapons +of fist and foot.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'But this severity, you say, is practised toward the children +who are employed by the men, and not employed by the masters?' +'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And the men inflict the punishment?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Not the overlookers?' 'Not in these instances.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'But how do you reconcile your statement with the fact that +the men have been the principal complainers of the cruelties practised +toward the children, and also the parties who are most +active in endeavouring to obtain for the children legislative protection?' +'My statement is only fact. I do not profess to reconcile +the apparent inconsistency. The men are in some measure +forced by circumstances into the practice of that severity of +which I have spoken.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Will you explain these circumstances?' 'The great object in +a cotton mill is to turn as much work off as possible, in order to +compensate by quantity for the smallness of the profit. To that +end every thing is made subservient. There are two classes of +superintendents in those establishments. The first class are +what are called managers, from their great power and authority. +Their especial business is to watch over the whole concern, and +constantly to attend to the quantity and quality of the yarn, &c. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +turned off. To these individuals the second class, called overlookers, +are immediately responsible for whatever is amiss. The +business of overlookers is to attend to particular rooms and classes +of hands, for the individual conduct of which they are held responsible. +These individuals, in some mills, are paid in proportion +to the quantity of work turned off; in all, they are made responsible +for that quantity, as well as for the quality; and as the +speed of each particular machine is known, nothing is more easy +than to calculate the quantity which it ought to produce. This +quantity is the maximum; the minimum allowed is the least possible +deficiency, certain contingencies being taken into account. +In those mills in which the overlookers are paid in proportion to +the quantity of work turned off, interest secures the closest +attention to the conduct of every individual under them; and in +other mills, fear of losing their places operates to produce the +same effect. It is one continual system of driving; and, in order +to turn off as great a quantity of work as is possible, the manager +drives the overlookers, and the overlookers drive the men. +Every spinner knows that he must turn off the average quantity +of work which his wheels are capable of producing, or lose his +place if deficiencies are often repeated; and consequently, the +piecers and scavengers are drilled, in their turns, to the severest +attention. On their constant attention, as well as his own, depends +the quantity of work done. So that it is not an exaggeration +to say, that their powers of labour are subjected to the +severity of an undeviating exaction. A working man is estimated +in these establishments in proportion to his physical capacity +rather than his moral character, and therefore it is not +difficult to infer what must be the consequences. It begets a system +of debasing tyranny in almost every department, the most +demoralizing in its effects. Kind words are godsends in many +cotton factories, and oaths and blows the usual order of the day. +The carder must produce the required quantity of drawing and +roving; the spinner, the required quantity of yarn; a system of +overbearing tyranny is adopted toward everybody under them; +they are cursed into the required degree of attention, and blows +are resorted to with the children when oaths fail, and sometimes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +even before an oath has been tried. In short, the men must do +work enough, or lose their places. It is a question between +losing their places and the exercise of severity of discipline in +all cases; between starvation and positive cruelty, in many. +There are exceptions, but my conviction is that they are comparatively +few indeed. To me the whole system has always +appeared one of tyranny."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Abraham Whitehead, clothier, of Scholes, near +Holmfirth, examined by Parliamentary Committee:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'What has been the treatment which you have observed that +these children have received at the mills, to keep them attentive +for so many hours, at so early ages?' 'They are generally +cruelly treated; so cruelly treated that they dare not, hardly for +their lives, be too late at their work in the morning. When I +have been at the mills in the winter season, when the children +are at work in the evening, the very first thing they inquire is, +"What o'clock is it?" If we should answer, "Seven," they say, +"Only seven! it is a great while to ten, but we must not give up +till ten o'clock, or past." They look so anxious to know what +o'clock it is that I am convinced the children are fatigued, and +think that, even at seven, they have worked too long. My heart +has been ready to bleed for them when I have seen them so +fatigued, for they appear in such a state of apathy and insensibility +as really not to know whether they are doing their work +or not. They usually throw a bunch of ten or twelve cordings +across the hand, and take one off at a time; but I have seen the +bunch entirely finished, and they have attempted to take off another, +when they have not had a cording at all; they have been +so fatigued as not to know whether they were at work or not.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do they frequently fall into errors and mistakes in piecing +when thus fatigued?' 'Yes; the errors they make when thus +fatigued are, that instead of placing the cording in this way, +(describing it,) they are apt to place them obliquely, and that +causes a flying, which makes bad yarn; and when the billy-spinner +sees that, he takes his strap, or the billy-roller, and says, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +"Damn thee, close it; little devil, close it;" and they strike the +child with the strap or billy roller.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You have noticed this in the after part of the day more particularly?' +'It is a very difficult thing to go into a mill in the +latter part of the day, particularly in winter, and not to hear +some of the children crying for being beaten for this very fault.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How are they beaten?' 'That depends on the humanity of +the slubber or billy-spinner. Some have been beaten so violently +that they have lost their lives in consequence of being so beaten; +and even a young girl has had the end of a billy-roller jammed +through her cheek.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What is the billy-roller?' 'A heavy rod of from two to +three yards long, and of two inches in diameter, and with an +iron pivot at each end. It runs on the top of the cording, over +the feeding-cloth. I have seen them take the billy-roller and rap +them on the head, making their heads crack so that you might +have heard the blow at a distance of six or eight yards, in spite +of the din and rolling of the machinery. Many have been +knocked down by the instrument. I knew a boy very well, of +the name of Senior, with whom I went to school; he was struck +with a billy-roller on the elbow; it occasioned a swelling; he was +not able to work more than three or four weeks after the blow; +and he died in consequence. There was a woman in Holmfirth +who was beaten very much: I am not quite certain whether on +the head; and she lost her life in consequence of being beaten +with a billy-roller. That which was produced (showing one) is +not the largest size; there are some a foot longer than that; it +is the most common instrument with which these poor little +pieceners are beaten, more commonly than with either stick or +strap.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How is it detached from the machinery?' 'Supposing this +to be the billy-frame, (describing it,) at each end there is a socket +open; the cording runs underneath here, just in this way, and +when the billy-spinner is angry, and sees the little piecener has +done wrong, he takes off this and says, "Damn thee, close it."'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You have seen the poor children in this situation?' 'I have +seen them frequently struck with the billy-roller; I have seen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +one so struck as to occasion its death; but I once saw a piecener +struck in the face by a billy-spinner with his hand, until its nose +bled very much; and when I said, "Oh dear, I would not suffer +a child of mine to be treated thus," the man has said "How the +devil do you know but what he deserved it? What have you to +do with it?"'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">But the most complete evidence in regard to the +slavery in the factories was that given to the Parliamentary +Committee, by a man named Peter Smart, +whose experience and observation as a slave and a +slave-driver in the factories of Scotland, enabled him +to substantiate all the charges made against the system. +His history possesses the deepest interest, and +should be attentively perused:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Where do you reside?' 'At Dundee.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What age are you?' 'Twenty-seven.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What is your business?' 'An overseer of a flax-mill.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Have you worked in a mill from your youth?' 'Yes, since +I was five years of age.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Had you a father and mother in the country at that time?' +'My mother stopped in Perth, about eleven miles from the mill, +and my father was in the army.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were you hired for any length of time when you went?' +'Yes, my mother got 15<i>s.</i> for six years, I having my meat and +clothes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'At whose mill?' 'Mr. Andrew Smith's, at Gateside.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Is that in Fifeshire?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What were your hours of labour, do you recollect, in that +mill?' 'In the summer season we were very scarce of water.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'But when you had sufficient water, how long did you work?' +'We began at four o'clock in the morning, and worked till ten or +eleven at night; as long as we could stand upon our feet.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'You hardly could keep up for that length of time?' 'No, +we often fell asleep.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How were you kept to your work for that length of time; +were you chastised?' 'Yes, very often, and very severely.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How long was this ago?' 'It is between twenty-one and +twenty-two years since I first went.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were you kept in the premises constantly?' 'Constantly.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Locked up?' 'Yes, locked up.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Night and day?' 'Night and day; I never went home +while I was at the mill.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was it possible to keep up your activity for such a length +of time as that?' 'No, it was impossible to do it; we often fell +asleep.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were not accidents then frequently occurring at that mill +from over-fatigue?' 'Yes, I got my hands injured there by the +machinery.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Have you lost any of your fingers?' 'Yes, I have lost one, +and the other hand is very much injured.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'At what time of the night was that when your hands became +thus injured?' 'Twilight, between seven and eight o'clock.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you attribute that accident to over-fatigue and drowsiness?' +'Yes, and to a want of knowledge of the machinery. I +was only five years old when I went to the mills, and I did not +know the use of the different parts of the machinery.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you ever know any other accident happen in that mill?' +'Yes, there was a girl that fell off her stool when she was +piecing; she fell down and was killed on the spot.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was that considered by the hands in the mill to have been +occasioned by drowsiness and excessive fatigue?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How old were you at the time this took place?' 'I don't +know, for I have been so long in the mills that I have got no +education, and I have forgot the like of those things.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Have you any recollection of what the opinions of the people +in the mill were at that time as to the cause of the accident?' +'I heard the rest of them talking about it, and they said that it +was so. We had long stools that we sat upon then, old-fashioned; +we have no such things as those now.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Is that the only accident that you have known to happen in +that mill?' 'There was a boy, shortly before I got my fingers +hurt, that had his fingers hurt in the same way that I had.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was there any other killed?' 'There was one killed, but I +could not say how it was; but she was killed in the machinery.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Has any accident happened in that mill during the last +twelve years?' 'I could not say; it is twelve years since I +left it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Is that mill going on still?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Speaking of the hours that you had to labour there, will you +state to this committee the effect it had upon you?' 'It had a very +great effect upon me; I was bad in my health.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were you frequently much beaten, in order to keep you up +to your labour?' 'Yes; very often beat till I was bloody at the +mouth and at the nose, by the overseer and master too.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How did they beat you?' 'With their hands and with a +leather thong.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were the children, generally speaking, treated as you +have stated you were?' 'Yes; generally; there are generally +fifteen boys in one, and a number of girls in the other; they were +kept separately.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You say you were locked up night and day?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do the children ever attempt to run away?' 'Very often.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were they pursued and brought back again?' 'Yes, the +overseer pursued them, and brought them back.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you ever attempt to run away?' 'Yes, I ran away twice.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And you were brought back?' 'Yes; and I was sent up to +the master's loft, and thrashed with a whip for running away.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were you bound to this man?' 'Yes, for six years.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'By whom were you bound?' 'My mother got 15<i>s.</i> for the +six years.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you know whether the children were, in point of fact, +compelled to stop during the whole time for which they were engaged?' +'Yes, they were.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'By law?' 'I cannot say by law; but they were compelled +by the master; I never saw any law used there but the law of +their own hands.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Does that practice of binding continue in Scotland now?' +'Not in the place I am in.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How long since it has ceased?' 'For the last two years +there has been no engagement in Dundee.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Are they generally engagements from week to week, or from +month to month?' 'From month to month.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you know whether a practice has prevailed of sending +poor children, who are orphans, from workhouses and hospitals to +that work?' 'There were fifteen, at the time I was there, came +from Edinburgh Poorhouse.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you know what the Poorhouse in Edinburgh is?' 'It is +just a house for putting poor orphans in.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you know the name of that establishment?' 'No.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you happen to know that these fifteen came to the mill +from an establishment for the reception of poor orphans?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How many had you at the mill?' 'Fifteen.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'At what ages?' 'From 12 to 15.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were they treated in a similar manner to yourself?' 'Yes, +we were all treated alike; there was one treatment for all, from +the oldest to the youngest.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did not some of you attempt, not merely to get out of the mill, +but out of the country?' 'Yes; I have known some go down to +the boat at Dundee, in order to escape by that means, and the +overseer has caught them there, and brought them back again.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Is there not a ferry there?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'When persons disembark there, they may embark on the +ferry?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did your parents live in Dundee at this time?' 'No.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Had you any friends at Dundee?' 'No.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The fact is, that you had nobody that could protect you?' 'No, +I had no protection; the first three years I was at the mill I never +saw my mother at all; and when I got this accident with my +hand she never knew of it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Where did she reside at that time?' 'At Perth.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You say that your master himself was in the habit of treating +you in the way you have mentioned?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Describe what the treatment was?' 'The treatment was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +very bad; perhaps a box on the ear, or very frequently a kick +with his foot.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were you punished for falling asleep in that mill?' 'Yes, +I have got my licks for it, and been punished very severely for it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Where did you go to then?' 'I went to a mill in Argyleshire.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How many years were you in this mill of Mr. Andrew Smith's, +of Gateside?' 'Eleven years.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What age were you, when you went to this mill in Argyleshire?' +'About 16.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You stated that you were bound to stay with Mr. Smith for +six years; how came you then to continue with him the remaining +five years?' 'At the end of those six years I got 3<i>l.</i> a year from +my master, and found my own clothes out of that.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were you then contented with your situation?' 'No, I cannot +say that I was; but I did not know any thing of any other +business.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You had not been instructed in any other business, and +you did not know where you could apply for a maintenance?' +'No.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'To whose mill did you then remove?' 'To Messrs. Duff, +Taylor & Co., at Ruthven, Forfarshire.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What were your hours of labour there?' 'Fourteen hours.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Exclusive of the time for meals and refreshment?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was that a flax mill?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you work for that number of hours both winter and +summer?' 'Yes, both winter and summer.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How old were you at this time?' 'Sixteen.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Are you aware whether any increase was made in the number +of hours of work, in the year 1819, by an agreement between +the masters and the workmen?' 'No, I cannot say as to that.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You think there could not be much increase of your previous +labour, whatever agreement might have been made upon the subject?' +'No, there could have been no increase made to that; it +was too long for that.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were the hands chastised up to their labour in that mill?' +'Yes.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'That was the practice there also?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you mean to state that you were treated with great cruelty +at the age of 16, and that you still remain in the mill?' 'I was +not beaten so severely as I was in Fifeshire.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You were not so beaten as to induce you to leave that mill?' +'If I had left it, I did not know where to go.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you try to get into any other occupation?' 'Yes, I went +apprentice to a flax-dresser at that time.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What was the reason that you did not keep at it?' 'My +hand was so disabled, that it was found I was not able to follow +that business.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You found you could not get your bread at that business?' +'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Consequently, you were obliged to go back to the mills?' +'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was it the custom, when you were 16 years of age, for the +overseer to beat you?' 'Yes, the boys were often beaten very +severely in the mill.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'At this time you were hired for wages; how much had you?' +'Half-a-crown a week.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And your maintenance?' 'No, I maintained myself.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Is not that much lower than the wages now given to people +of sixteen years of age?' 'I have a boy about sixteen that has +4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week, but he is in a high situation; he is oiler of the +machinery.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Besides, you have been injured in your hand by the accident +to which you have alluded, and that probably might have interfered +with the amount of your wages?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What duty had you in the mill at this time, for the performance +of which you received 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week, when you were at Duff, +Taylor & Co.'s?' 'I was a card-feeder.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did your hand prevent you working at that time as well as +other boys of the same age, in feeding the cards?' 'Yes, on the +old system; I was not able to feed with a stick at that time; it is +done away with now.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How long did you stay there?' 'About fifteen months.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How many hours did you work there?' 'Fourteen.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you mean that you worked fourteen hours actual labour?' +'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was it a water-mill?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were you ever short of water?' 'We had plenty of water.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How long did you stop for dinner?' 'Half an hour.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What time had you for breakfast, or for refreshment in the +afternoon?' 'We had no time for that.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you eat your breakfast and dinner in the mill then?' +'No, we went to the victualling house.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was that some building attached to the mill?' 'Yes, at a +a small distance from the mill.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was it provided for the purpose of the mill?' 'Yes, we got +our bread and water there.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you sleep in a bothy at Duff & Taylor's?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were you locked up in a bothy?' 'No.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What is a bothy?' 'It is a house with beds all round.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Is it not the practice for farm-servants, and others, who are +unmarried, to sleep in such places?' 'I could not say as to that; +I am not acquainted with the farm system.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'To what mill did you next go?' 'To Mr. Webster's, at Battus +Den, within eleven miles of Dundee.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'In what situation did you act there?' 'I acted as an overseer.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'At 17 years of age?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you inflict the same punishment that you yourself had +experienced?' 'I went as an overseer; not as a slave, but as a +slave-driver.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What were the hours of labour in that mill?' 'My master +told me that I had to produce a certain quantity of yarn; the +hours were at that time fourteen; I said that I was not able to +produce the quantity of yarn that was required; I told him if he +took the timepiece out of the mill I would produce that quantity, +and after that time I found no difficulty in producing the quantity.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How long have you worked per day in order to produce +the quantity your master required?' 'I have wrought nineteen +hours.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was this a water-mill?' 'Yes, water and steam both.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'To what time have you worked?' 'I have seen the mill +going till it was past 12 o'clock on the Saturday night.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'So that the mill was still working on the Sabbath morning.' +'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were the workmen paid by the piece, or by the day?' 'No, +all had stated wages.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did not that almost compel you to use great severity to the +hands then under you?' 'Yes; I was compelled often to beat +them, in order to get them to attend to their work, from their +being overwrought.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were not the children exceedingly fatigued at that time?' +'Yes, exceedingly fatigued.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were the children bound in the same way in that mill?' +'No; they were bound from one year's end to another, for twelve +months.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you keep the hands locked up in the same way in that +mill?' 'Yes, we locked up the mill; but we did not lock the +bothy.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you find that the children were unable to pursue their +labour properly to that extent?' 'Yes; they have been brought +to that condition, that I have gone and fetched up the doctor to +them, to see what was the matter with them, and to know +whether they were able to rise, or not able to rise; they were +not at all able to rise; we have had great difficulty in getting +them up.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'When that was the case, how long have they been in bed, +generally speaking?' 'Perhaps not above four or five hours in +their beds. Sometimes we were very ill-plagued by men coming +about the females' bothy.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Were your hands principally girls?' 'Girls and boys all +together; we had only a very few boys.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did the boys sleep in the girls' bothy?' 'Yes, all together.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you mean to say that there was only one bothy for the +girls and for the boys who worked there?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What age were those girls and boys?' 'We had them from +8 to 20 years of age; and the boys were from 10 to 14, or thereabouts.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'You spoke of men who came about the bothy; did the girls +expect them?' 'Yes; of course they had their sweethearts.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did they go into the bothy?' 'Yes; and once I got a sore +beating from one of them, for ordering him out of the bothy.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How long were you in that mill?' 'Three years and nine +months.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And where did you go to next?' 'To Messrs. Anderson & +Company, at Moneyfieth, about six miles from Dundee.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What were your hours of labour there?' 'Fifteen hours.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Exclusive of the hour for refreshment?' 'Yes; we seldom +stopped for refreshment there.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You worked without any intermission at all, frequently?' +'Yes; we made a turn-about.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Explain what you mean by a turn-about?' 'We let them +out by turns in the days.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How long did you let one go out?' 'Just as short a time as +they could have to take their victuals in.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What were the ages of the children principally employed in +that place?' 'From about 12 to 20; they were all girls that I +had there, except one boy, and I think he was 8 years of age.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was this a flax-mill?' 'Yes, all flax.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you find that the children there were exceedingly distressed +with their work?' 'Yes; for the mill being in the country, +we were very scarce of workers, and the master often came out +and compelled them by flattery to go and work half the night +after their day's labour, and then they had only the other half to +sleep.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You mean that the master induced them by offering them +extra wages to go to work half the night?' 'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Was that very prejudicial to the girls so employed?' 'Yes; +I have seen some girls that were working half the night, that have +fainted and fallen down at their work, and have had to be carried +out.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Did you use severity in that mill?' 'No, I was not very +severe there.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You find, perhaps, that the girls do not require that severity +that the boys do?' 'Yes.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'How large was that mill?' 'There were only eighteen of us +altogether.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'From what you have seen, should you say that the treatment +of the children and the hours of labour are worse in the small or +in the large mills?' 'I could not answer that question.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Have you ever been in any large mill?' 'Yes, I am in one +just now, Mr. Baxter's.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Is the treatment of the children better in that large mill than +in the smaller mills in which you have been usually?' 'There is +little difference; the treatment is all one.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'To whose mill did you next go?' 'To Messrs. Baxter & +Brothers, at Dundee.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'State the hours of labour which you worked when you were +there, when trade was brisk?' 'Thirteen hours and twenty +minutes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What time was allowed for meals?' 'Fifty minutes each day.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Have you found that the system is getting any better now?' +'No, the system is getting no better with us.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Is there as much beating as there was?' 'There is not so +much in the licking way.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'But it is not entirely abolished, the system of chastisement?' +'No, it is far from that.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you think that, where young children are employed, that +system ought, or can be, entirely dispensed with, of giving some +chastisement to the children of that age?' 'They would not require +chastisement if they had shorter daily work.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you mean to state that they are only chastised because +through weariness they are unable to attend to their work, and +that they are not chastised for other faults and carelessness as +well?' 'There may be other causes besides, but weariness is the +principal fault.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Does not that over-labour induce that weariness and incapacity +to do the work, which brings upon them chastisement at +other parts of the day as well as in the evening?' 'Yes; young +girls, if their work go wrong, if they see me going round, and +my countenance with the least frown upon it, they will begin +crying when I go by.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Then they live in a state of perpetual alarm and suffering?' +'Yes.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you think that those children are healthy?' 'No, they +are far from that; I have two girls that have been under me these +two years; the one is 13 years, the other 15, and they are both +orphans and sisters, and both one size, and they very seldom are +working together, because the one or the other is generally ill; +and they are working for 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Have you the same system of locking up now?' 'Yes, locking +up all day.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Are they locked up at night?' 'No; after they have left +their work we have nothing more to do with them.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What time do they leave their work in the evening now?' +'About 20 minutes past 7.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What time do they go to it in the morning?' 'Five minutes +before 5.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you conceive that that is at all consistent with the health +of those children?' 'It is certainly very greatly against their +health.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Is not the flax-spinning business in itself very unwholesome?' +'Very unwholesome.'</p></div> + +<p class="i1">So much for the slavery of the factories—a slavery +which destroys human beings, body and soul. The fate +of the helpless children condemned to such protracted, +exhausting toil, under such demoralizing influences, +with the lash constantly impending over them, and no +alternative but starvation, is enough to excite the tears +of all humane persons. That such a system should be +tolerated in a land where a Christian church is a part +of the government, is indeed remarkable—proving how +greatly men are disinclined to practise what they +profess.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">We cannot close this chapter upon the British factories +without making a quotation from a work which, +we fear, has been too little read in the United Kingdom—a +fiction merely in construction, a truthful narrative +in fact. We allude to "The Life and Adventures of +Michael Armstrong, the Factory Boy," by Frances +Trollope. Copious editions of this heart-rending story +should be immediately issued by the British publishers. +This passage, describing the visit of Michael Armstrong +to the cotton factory, in company with Sir +Matthew Dowling and Dr. Crockley, is drawn to the +life:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The party entered the building, whence—as all know who +have done the like—every sight, every sound, every scent that +kind nature has fitted to the organs of her children, so as to render +the mere unfettered use of them a delight, are banished for +ever and for ever. The ceaseless whirring of a million hissing +wheels seizes on the tortured ear; and while threatening to destroy +the delicate sense, seems bent on proving first, with a sort +of mocking mercy, of how much suffering it can be the cause. +The scents that reek around, from oil, tainted water, and human +filth, with that last worst nausea arising from the hot refuse of +atmospheric air, left by some hundred pairs of labouring lungs, +render the act of breathing a process of difficulty, disgust, and +pain. All this is terrible. But what the eye brings home to the +heart of those who look round upon the horrid earthly hell, is +enough to make it all forgotten; for who can think of villanous +smells, or heed the suffering of the ear-racking sounds, while +they look upon hundreds of helpless children, divested of every +trace of health, of joyousness, and even of youth! Assuredly +there is no exaggeration in this; for except only in their diminutive +size, these suffering infants have no trace of it. Lean and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +distorted limbs, sallow and sunken cheeks, dim hollow eyes, +that speak unrest and most unnatural carefulness, give to each +tiny, trembling, unelastic form, a look of hideous premature old +age.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But in the room they entered, the dirty, ragged, miserable +crew were all in active performance of their various tasks; the +overlookers, strap in hand, on the alert; the whirling spindles +urging the little slaves who waited on them to movements as unceasing +as their own; and the whole monstrous chamber redolent +of all the various impurities that 'by the perfection of our manufacturing +system' are converted into 'gales of Araby' for the +rich, after passing, in the shape of certain poison, through the +lungs of the poor. So Sir Matthew proudly looked about him +and approved; and though it was athwart that species of haughty +frown in which such dignity as his is apt to clothe itself, Dr. +Crockley failed not to perceive that his friend and patron was in +good humour, and likely to be pleased by any light and lively +jestings in which he might indulge. Perceiving, therefore, that +little Michael passed on with downcast eyes, unrecognised by +any, he wrote upon a slip of paper, for he knew his voice could +not be heard—'Make the boy take that bare-legged scavenger +wench round the neck, and give her a kiss while she is next lying +down, and let us see them sprawling together.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Sir Matthew read the scroll, and grinned applause.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The miserable creature to whom the facetious doctor pointed, +was a little girl about seven years old, whose office as 'scavenger' +was to collect incessantly, from the machinery and from the floor, +the flying fragments of cotton that might impede the work. In +the performance of this duty, the child was obliged, from time to +time, to stretch itself with sudden quickness on the ground, while +the hissing machinery passed over her; and when this is skilfully +done, and the head, body, and outstretched limbs carefully glued +to the floor, the steady-moving but threatening mass may pass and +repass over the dizzy head and trembling body without touching +it. But accidents frequently occur; and many are the flaxen +locks rudely torn from infant heads, in the process.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It was a sort of vague hope that something comical of this kind +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +might occur, which induced Dr. Crockley to propose this frolic to +his friend, and probably the same idea suggested itself to Sir +Matthew likewise.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I say, Master Michael!' vociferated the knight, in a scream +which successfully struggled with the din, 'show your old acquaintance +that pride has not got the upper hand of you in your +fine clothes. Take scavenger No. 3, there, round the neck; now—now—now, +as she lies sprawling, and let us see you give her a +hearty kiss.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The stern and steady machinery moved onward, passing over +the body of the little girl, who owed her safety to the miserable +leanness of her shrunken frame; but Michael moved not.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Are you deaf, you little vermin?' roared Sir Matthew. 'Now +she's down again. Do what I bid you, or, by the living God, you +shall smart for it!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Still Michael did not stir, neither did he speak; or if he did, +his young voice was wholly inaudible, and the anger of Sir Matthew +was demonstrated by a clenched fist and threatening brow. +'Where the devil is Parsons?' he demanded, in accents that poor +Michael both heard and understood. 'Fine as he is, the strap +will do him good.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"In saying this, the great man turned to reconnoitre the space +he had traversed, and by which his confidential servant must +approach, and found that he was already within a good yard +of him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'That's good—I want you, Parsons. Do you see this little +rebel here, that I have dressed and treated like one of my own +children? What d'ye think of his refusing to kiss Miss No. 3, +scavenger, when I bid him?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The devil he does?' said the manager, grinning: 'we must +see if we can't mend that. Mind your hits, Master Piecer, and +salute the young lady when the mules go back, like a gentleman.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Sir Matthew perceived that his favourite agent feared to enforce +his first brutal command, and was forced, therefore, to content +himself with seeing the oiled and grimy face of the filthy little +girl in contact with that of the now clean and delicate-looking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +Michael. But he felt he had been foiled, and cast a glance upon +his <i>protégé</i>, which seemed to promise that he would not forget +it."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Nor is the delineation, in the following verses, by +Francis M. Blake, less truthful and touching:—</p> + +<p class="ac">THE FACTORY CHILD.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">Early one winter's morning,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">The weather wet and wild,</div> + <div class="verse">Some hours before the dawning,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">A father call'd his child;</div> + <div class="verse">Her daily morsel bringing,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">The darksome room he paced,</div> + <div class="verse">And cried, "The bell is ringing—</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">My hapless darling, haste."</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">"Father, I'm up, but weary,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">I scarce can reach the door,</div> + <div class="verse">And long the way and dreary—</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">Oh, carry me once more!</div> + <div class="verse">To help us we've no mother,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">To live how hard we try—</div> + <div class="verse">They kill'd my little brother—</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">Like him I'll work and die!"</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">His feeble arms they bore her,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">The storm was loud and wild—</div> + <div class="verse">God of the poor man, hear him!</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">He prays, "Oh, save my child!"</div> + <div class="verse">Her wasted form seem'd nothing—</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">The load was in his heart;</div> + <div class="verse">The sufferer he kept soothing,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">Till at the mill they part.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">The overlooker met her, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></div> + <div class="verse indent-2">As to the frame she crept,</div> + <div class="verse">And with the thong he beat her,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">And cursed her as she wept.</div> + <div class="verse">Alas! what hours of horror</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">Made up her latest day!</div> + <div class="verse">In toil, and pain, and sorrow,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">They slowly pass'd away.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">It seem'd, as she grew weaker,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">The threads the oftener broke,</div> + <div class="verse">The rapid wheels ran quicker,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">And heavier fell the stroke.</div> + <div class="verse">The sun had long descended,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">But night brought no repose:</div> + <div class="verse"><i>Her</i> day began and ended</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">As her task-masters chose.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">Then to her little neighbour</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">Her only cent she paid,</div> + <div class="verse">To take her last hour's labour,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">While by her frame she laid.</div> + <div class="verse">At last, the engine ceasing,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">The captives homeward flee,</div> + <div class="verse">One thought her strength increasing—</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">Her parent soon to see.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">She left, but oft she tarried,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">She fell, and rose no more,</div> + <div class="verse">But by her comrades carried,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">She reach'd her father's door.</div> + <div class="verse">All night with tortured feeling,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">He watch'd his speechless child;</div> + <div class="verse">While close beside her kneeling,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">She knew him not, nor smiled.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">Again the loud bell's ringing, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></div> + <div class="verse indent-2">Her last perceptions tried,</div> + <div class="verse">When, from her straw bed springing,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">"'Tis time!" she shriek'd, and—died.</div> + <div class="verse">That night a chariot pass'd her,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">While on the ground she lay,</div> + <div class="verse">The daughters of her master</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">An evening visit pay;</div> + <div class="verse">Their tender hearts were sighing,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">As negro wrongs were told,</div> + <div class="verse">While the white slave was dying,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">Who gain'd their father's gold!</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">SLAVERY IN THE BRITISH WORKSHOPS.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">When</span> Captain Hugh Clapperton, the celebrated +English traveller, visited Bello, the sultan of the +Felatahs, at Sackatoo, he made the monarch some presents, +in the name of his majesty the king of England. +These were—two new blunderbusses, a pair of double-barrelled +pistols, a pocket compass, an embroidered +jacket, a scarlet bornonse, a pair of scarlet breeches, +thirty-four yards of silk, two turban shawls, four +pounds of cloves, four pounds of cinnamon, three cases +of gunpowder with shot and balls, three razors, three +clasp-knives, three looking-glasses, six snuff-boxes, a +spy-glass, and a large tea-tray. The sultan said—"Every +thing is wonderful, but you are the greatest +curiosity of all!" and then added, "What can I give +that is most acceptable to the king of England?" +Clapperton replied—"The most acceptable service you +can render to the king of England is to co-operate with +his majesty in putting a stop to the slave-trade on the +coast, as the king of England sends large ships to +cruise there, for the sole purpose of seizing all vessels +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +engaged in this trade, whose crews are thrown into +prison, and of liberating the unfortunate slaves, on +whom lands and houses are conferred, at one of our +settlements in Africa." "What!" exclaimed the sultan, +"have you no slaves in England?" "No: whenever +a slave sets his foot in England, he is from that +moment free," replied Clapperton. "What do you +then do for servants?" inquired the sultan. "We hire +them for a stated period, and give them regular wages; +nor is any person in England allowed to strike another; +and the very soldiers are fed, clothed, and paid by the +government," replied the English captain. "God is +great!" exclaimed the sultan. "You are a beautiful +people." Clapperton had succeeded in putting a beautiful +illusion upon the sultan's imagination, as some +English writers have endeavoured to do among the +civilized nations of the earth. If the sultan had been +taken to England, to see the freedom of the "servants" +in the workshops, perhaps he would have exclaimed—"God +is great! Slaves are plenty."</p> + +<p class="i1">The condition of the apprentices in the British +workshops is at least as bad as that of the children in +the factories. According to the second report of the +commissioners appointed by Parliament, the degrading +system of involuntary apprenticeship—in many cases +without the consent of parents—and merely according +to the regulations of the brutal guardians of the workhouses, +is general. The commissioners say +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"That in some trades, those especially requiring skilled workmen, +these apprentices are bound by legal indentures, usually at +the age of fourteen, and for a term of seven years, the age being +rarely younger, and the period of servitude very seldom longer; +but by far the greater number are bound <i>without any prescribed +legal forms</i>, and in almost all these cases they are required to +serve their masters, <i>at whatever age they may commence their apprenticeship, +until they attain the age of twenty-one</i>, in some instances +in employments in which there is nothing deserving the +name of skill to be acquired, and in other instances in employments +in which they are taught to make only one particular part +of the article manufactured: <i>so that at the end of their servitude +they are altogether unable to make any one article of their trade in +a complete state</i>. That a large proportion of these apprentices +consist of orphans, or are the children of widows, or belong to +the very poorest families, and frequently are apprenticed by +boards of guardians.</p> + +<p class="i1">"That in these districts it is common for parents to borrow +money of the employers, and to stipulate, by express agreement, +to repay it from their children's wages; a practice which prevails +likewise in Birmingham and Warrington: in most other places +no evidence was discovered of its existence."—<i>Second Report of +the Commissioners</i>, p. 195, 196.</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Here we have a fearful text on which to comment. +In these few sentences we see the disclosure of a system +which, if followed out and abused, must produce a +state of slavery of the very worst and most oppressive +character. To show that it <i>is</i> thus abused, here are +some extracts from the Reports on the Wolverhampton +district, to which the Central Board of Commissioners +direct special attention:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The peculiar trade of the Wolverhampton district, with the +exception of a very few large proprietors, is in the hands of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +great number of small masters, who are personally known only to +some of the foremen of the factors to whom they take their work, +and scarcely one of whom is sufficiently important to have his name +over his door or his workshop in front of a street. In the town of +Wolverhampton alone there are of these small masters, for example, +two hundred and sixty locksmiths, sixty or seventy key-makers, +from twenty to thirty screwmakers, and a like number of latch, +bolt, snuffer, tobacco-box, and spectacle frame and case makers. +Each of these small masters, if they have not children of their +own, generally employ from one to three apprentices."—<i>Horne, +Report</i>; App. pt. ii. p. 2. s. 13 et seq.</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The workshops of the small masters are usually of +the dirtiest, most dilapidated, and confined description, +and situated in the most filthy and undrained localities, +at the back of their wretched abodes.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"There are two modes of obtaining apprentices in this district, +namely, the legal one of application to magistrates or boards of +guardians for sanction of indentures; and, secondly, the illegal +mode of taking the children to be bound by an attorney, without +any such reference to the proper authorities. There are many +more bound by this illegal mode than by the former.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In all cases, the children, of whatever age, are bound till they +attain the age of twenty-one years. If the child be only seven +years of age, the period of servitude remains the same, however +simple the process or nature of the trade to be learnt. During +the first year or two, if the apprentice be very young, he is +merely used to run errands, do dirty household work, nurse infants, +&c.</p> + +<p class="i1">"If the master die before the apprentice attain the age of +twenty-one years, the apprentice is equally bound as the servant +of his deceased master's heirs, executors, administrators, and +assigns—in fact, the apprentice is part of the deceased master's +goods and chattels. Whoever, therefore, may carry on the trade, +he is the servant of such person or persons until his manumission +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +is obtained by reaching his one-and-twentieth year. The apprentice +has no regular pocket-money allowed him by the master. +Sometimes a few halfpence are given to him. An apprentice of +eighteen or nineteen years of age often has 2<i>d.</i> or 3<i>d.</i> a week +given him, but never as a rightful claim."—<i>Second Report of +Commissioners.</i></p> + +<p class="i1">"Among other witnesses, the superintendent registrar states +that in those trades particularly in which the work is by the +piece, the growth of the children is injured; that in these cases +more especially their strength is over-taxed for profit. One of the +constables of the town says that 'there are examples without +number in the place, of deformed men and boys; their backs or +their legs, and often both, grow wrong; the backs grow out and +the legs grow in at the knees—hump-backed and knock-kneed. +There is most commonly only one leg turned in—a K leg; it is +occasioned by standing all day for years filing at a vice; the hind +leg grows in—the leg that is hindermost. Thinks that among the +adults of the working classes of Willenhall, whose work is all +forging and filing, one-third of the number are afflicted with +hernia,' &c."—<i>Horne, Evidence</i>, p. 28, No. 128.</p></div> + +<p class="i1">As the profits of many of the masters are small, it +may be supposed that the apprentices do not get the +best of food, shelter, and clothing. We have the evidence +of Henry Nicholls Payne, superintendent registrar +of Wolverhampton, Henry Hill, Esq., magistrate, +and Paul Law, of Wolverhampton, that it is common +for masters to buy offal meat, and the meat of animals +that have died from all manner of causes, for the food +of apprentices. The clothing of these poor creatures +is but thin tatters for all seasons. The apprentices +constantly complain that they do not get enough to +eat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"They are frequently fed," says the sub-commissioner, "especially +during the winter season, on red herrings, potatoes, +bread with lard upon it, and have not always sufficient even of +this.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Their living is poor; they have not enough to eat. Did not +know what it was to have butcher's meat above once a week; +often a red herring was divided between two for dinner. The +boys are often clemmed, (almost starved;) have often been to +his house to ask for a bit of pudding—are frequent complaints. +In some trades, particularly in the casting-shops of founderies, +in the shops in which general forge or smith's work is done, and +in the shops of the small locksmiths, screwmakers, &c., there are +no regular meal-hours, but the children swallow their food as they +can, during their work, often while noxious fumes or dust are flying +about, and perhaps with noxious compositions in their unwashed +hands."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The apprentices employed in nail-making are described +as so many poorly fed and poorly clad slaves. +Almost the whole population of Upper Sedgley and +Upper Gormal, and nearly one-half of the population +of Coseley, are employed in nail-making. The nails are +made at forges by the hammer, and these forges, which +are the workshops, are usually at the backs of the +wretched hovels in which the work-people reside. +"The best kind of forges," says Mr. Horne, "are little +brick shops, of about fifteen feet long and twelve feet +wide, in which seven or eight individuals constantly +work together, with no ventilation except the door, and +two slits, or loopholes, in the wall; but the great +majority of these work-places are very much smaller, +(about ten feet long by nine wide,) filthily dirty; and on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +looking in upon one of them when the fire is not +lighted, presents the appearance of a dilapidated coal-hole, +or little black den." In these places children +are first put to labour from the ages of seven to eight, +where they continue to work daily, from six o'clock in +the morning till seven or eight at night; and on weigh-days—the +days the nails are taken to the factors—from +three or four in the morning till nine at night. They +gradually advance in the number of nails they are required +to make per day, till they arrive at the <i>stint</i> of +one thousand. A girl or boy of from ten to twelve +years of age continually accomplishes this arduous +task from day to day, and week to week. Their food +at the same time is, in general, insufficient, their clothing +miserable, and the wretchedness of their dwellings +almost unparalleled.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Throughout the long descent of the main roadway, or rather +sludgeway, of Lower Gormal," says Mr. Horne, "and throughout +the very long winding and straggling roadway of Coseley, I never +saw one abode of a working family which had the least appearance +of comfort or wholesomeness, while the immense majority +were of the most wretched and sty-like description. The effect +of these unfavourable circumstances is greatly to injure the +health of the children, and to stop their growth; and it is remarkable +that the boys are more injured than the girls, because +the girls are not put to work as early as the boys by two years or +more. They appear to bear the heat of the forges better, and +they sometimes even become strong by their work."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The children employed in nail-making, in Scotland, +evince the nature of their toil by their emaciated looks +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +and stunted growth. They are clothed in apparel in +which many paupers would not dress; and they are +starved into quickness at their work, as their meals +depend on the quantity of work accomplished.</p> + +<p class="i1">In the manufacture of earthenware there are many +young slaves employed. The mould-runners are an +especially pitiable class of workmen; they receive on a +mould the ware as it is formed by the workmen, and +carry it to the stove-room, where both mould and ware +are arranged on shelves to dry. The same children +liberate the mould when sufficiently dry, and carry it +back to receive a fresh supply of ware, to be in like +manner deposited on the shelves. They are also generally +required by the workmen to "wedge their clay;" +that is, to lift up large lumps of clay, which are to be +thrown down forcibly on a hard surface to free the clay +from air and to render it more compact. Excepting +when thus engaged, they are constantly "on the run" +from morning till night, always carrying a considerable +weight. These children are generally pale, thin, weak, +and unhealthy.</p> + +<p class="i1">In the manufacture of glass the toil and suffering of +the apprentices, as recorded in the evidence before the +commissioners, are extreme. One witness said—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"From his experience he thinks the community has no idea of +what a boy at a bottle-work goes through; 'it would never be +allowed, if it were known;' he knows himself; he has been carried +home from fair fatigue; and on two several occasions, when +laid in bed, could not rest, and had to be taken out and laid on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +the floor. These boys begin work on Sabbath evenings at ten +o'clock, and are not at home again till between one and three on +Monday afternoon. The drawing the bottles out of the arches is +a work which no child should be allowed, on any consideration, +to do; he himself has been obliged several times to have planks +put in to walk on, which have caught fire under the feet; and a +woollen cap over the ears and always mits on the hands; and a +boy cannot generally stop in them above five minutes. There is +no man that works in a bottle-work, but will corroborate the +statement that such work checks the growth of the body; the irregularity +and the unnatural times of work cause the boys and men +to feel in a sort of stupor or dulness from heavy sweats and irregular +hours. The boys work harder than any man in the works; +all will allow that. From their experience of the bad effect on +the health, witness and five others left the work, and none but +one ever went to a bottle-work after."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The young females apprenticed to dressmakers suffer +greatly from over-work and bad treatment, as has long +been known. John Dalrymple, Esq., Assistant Surgeon, +Royal London Ophthalmic Hospital, narrates the following +case:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"A delicate and beautiful young woman, an orphan, applied +at the hospital for very defective vision, and her symptoms were +precisely as just described. Upon inquiry it was ascertained that +she had been apprenticed to a milliner, and was in her last year +of indentureship. Her working hours were eighteen in the day, +occasionally even more; her meals were snatched with scarcely +an interval of a few minutes from work, and her general health +was evidently assuming a tendency to consumption. An appeal +was made, by my directions, to her mistress for relaxation; but +the reply was that, in the last year of her apprenticeship, her +labours had become valuable, and that her mistress was entitled to +them as a recompense for teaching. Subsequently a threat of appeal +to the Lord Mayor, and a belief that a continuation of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +occupation would soon render the apprentice incapable of labour, +induced the mistress to cancel the indentures, and the victim was +saved."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Frederick Tyrrell, Esq., Surgeon to the London Ophthalmic +Hospital, and to St. Thomas's Hospital, mentions +a case equally distressing:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"A fair and delicate girl, about seventeen years of age, was +brought to witness in consequence of total loss of vision. She +had experienced the train of symptoms which have been detailed, +to the fullest extent. On examination, both eyes were found disorganized, +and recovery therefore was hopeless. She had been +an apprentice as a dress-maker at the west end of the town; and +some time before her vision became affected, her general health +had been materially deranged from too close confinement and +excessive work. The immediate cause of the disease in the eyes +was excessive and continued application to making mourning. +She stated that she had been compelled to remain without changing +her dress for nine days and nights consecutively; that during +this period she had been permitted only occasionally to rest on a +mattrass placed on the floor, for an hour or two at a time; and +that her meals were placed at her side, cut up, so that as little +time as possible should be spent in their consumption. Witness +regrets that he did not, in this and a few other cases nearly as +flagrant and distressing, induce the sufferers to appeal to a jury +for compensation."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">It may be asserted, without fear of successful contradiction, +that, in proportion to the numbers employed, +there are no occupations in which so much disease is +produced as in dress-making. The report of a sub-commissioner +states that it is a "serious aggravation +of this evil, that the unkindness of the employer very +frequently causes these young persons, when they become +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +unwell, to conceal their illness, from the fear of +being sent out of the house; and in this manner the +disease often becomes increased in severity, or is even +rendered incurable. Some of the principals are so +cruel, as to object to the young women obtaining medical +assistance."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_179.jpg" id="i_179.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_179.jpg" + alt="" /> + <div class="caption">SLAVES OF THE NEEDLE.</div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">The London Times, in an exceedingly able article +upon "Seamstress Slavery," thus describes the terrible +system:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Granting that the negro gangs who are worked on the cotton +grounds of the Southern States of North America, or in the sugar +plantations of Brazil, are slaves, in what way should we speak +of persons who are circumstanced in the manner we are about to +relate? Let us consider them as inhabitants of a distant region—say +of New Orleans—no matter about the colour of their skins, +and then ask ourselves what should be our opinion of a nation in +which such things are tolerated. They are of a sex and age the +least qualified to struggle with the hardships of their lot—young +women, for the most part, between sixteen and thirty years of +age. As we would not deal in exaggerations, we would promise +that we take them at their busy season, just as writers upon +American slavery are careful to select the season of cotton-picking +and sugar-crushing as illustrations of their theories. The +young female slaves, then, of whom we speak, are worked in +gangs, in ill-ventilated rooms, or rooms that are not ventilated at +all; for it is found by experience that if air be admitted it brings +with it "blacks" of another kind, which damage the work upon +which the seamstresses are employed. Their occupation is to +sew from morning till night and night till morning—stitch, stitch, +stitch—without pause, without speech, without a smile, without a +sigh. In the gray of the morning they must be at work, say at +six o'clock, having a quarter of an hour allowed them for breaking +their fast. The food served out to them is scanty and miserable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +enough, but still, in all probability, more than their fevered +system can digest. We do not, however, wish to make out a case +of starvation; the suffering is of another kind, equally dreadful +of endurance. From six o'clock till eleven it is stitch, stitch. At +eleven a small piece of dry bread is served to each seamstress, +but still she must stitch on. At one o'clock, twenty minutes are +allowed for dinner—a slice of meat and a potato, with a glass of +toast-and-water to each workwoman. Then again to work—stitch, +stitch, until five o'clock, when fifteen minutes are again allowed +for tea. The needles are then set in motion once more—stitch, +stitch, until nine o'clock, when fifteen minutes are allowed for +supper—a piece of dry bread and cheese and a glass of beer. +From nine o'clock at night until one, two, and three o'clock in +the morning, stitch, stitch; the only break in this long period +being a minute or two—just time enough to swallow a cup of +strong tea, which is supplied lest the young people should 'feel +sleepy.' At three o'clock <span class="sc">A.M.</span>, to bed; at six o'clock +<span class="sc">A.M.</span>, +out of it again to resume the duties of the following day. There +must be a good deal of monotony in the occupation.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But when we have said that for certain months in the year +these unfortunate young persons are worked in the manner we +describe, we have not said all. Even during the few hours allotted +to sleep—should we not rather say to a feverish cessation +from toil—their miseries continue. They are cooped up in sleeping-pens, +ten in a room which would perhaps be sufficient for the +accommodation of two persons. The alternation is from the +treadmill—and what a treadmill!—to the Black Hole of Calcutta. +Not a word of remonstrance is allowed, or is possible. +The seamstresses may leave the mill, no doubt, but what awaits +them on the other side of the door?—starvation, if they be honest; +if not, in all probability, prostitution and its consequence. They +would scarcely escape from slavery that way. Surely this is a +terrible state of things, and one which claims the anxious consideration +of the ladies of England who have pronounced themselves +so loudly against the horrors of negro slavery in the United +States. Had this system of oppression against persons of their +own sex been really exercised in New Orleans, it would have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +elicited from them many expressions of sympathy for the sufferers, +and of abhorrence for the cruel task-masters who could so +cruelly over-work wretched creatures so unfitted for the toil. +It is idle to use any further mystification in the matter. The +scenes of misery we have described exist at our own doors, and +in the most fashionable quarters of luxurious London. It is in +the dress-making and millinery establishments of the 'West-end' +that the system is steadily pursued. The continuous labour is bestowed +upon the gay garments in which the 'ladies of England' +love to adorn themselves. It is to satisfy their whims and caprices +that their wretched sisters undergo these days and nights +of suffering and toil. It is but right that we should confess the +fault does not lie so much at the door of the customers as with +the principals of these establishments. The milliners and dressmakers +of the metropolis will not employ hands enough to do the +work. They increase their profits from the blood and life of the +wretched creatures in their employ. Certainly the prices charged +for articles of dress at any of the great West-end establishments +are sufficiently high—as most English heads of families know to +their cost—to enable the proprietors to retain a competent staff +of work-people, and at the same time to secure a very handsome +profit to themselves. Wherein, then, lies the remedy? Will the +case of these poor seamstresses be bettered if the ladies of England +abstain partially, or in great measure, from giving their usual +orders to their usual houses? In that case it may be said some +of the seamstresses will be dismissed to starvation, and the remainder +will be over-worked as before. We freely confess we do +not see our way through the difficulty; for we hold the most improbable +event in our social arrangements to be the fact, that a +lady of fashion will employ a second-rate instead of a first-rate +house for the purchase of her annual finery. The leading milliners +and dressmakers of London have hold of English society +at both ends. They hold the ladies by their vanity and their +love of fine clothes, and the seamstresses by what appears to be +their interest and by their love of life. Now, love of fine +clothes and love of life are two very strong motive springs of +human action."</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">In confirmation of this thrilling representation of the +seamstress slavery in London, the following letter subsequently +appeared in the Times:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p>"<i>To the Editor of the Times</i>:</p> + +<p class="i1">"Sir,—May I beg of you to insert this letter in your valuable +paper at your earliest convenience, relative to the letters of the +'First Hand?' I can state, without the slightest hesitation, that +they are perfectly true. My poor sister was apprenticed to one +of those fashionable West-end houses, and my father paid the +large sum of £40 only to procure for his daughter a lingering +death. I was allowed to visit her during her illness; I found her +in a very small room, which two large beds would fill. In this +room there were six children's bedsteads, and these were each to +contain three grown-up young women. In consequence of my +sister being so ill, she was allowed, on payment of 5<i>s.</i> per week, +a bed to herself—one so small it might be called a cradle. The +doctor who attended her when dying, can authenticate this letter.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Apologizing for encroaching on your valuable time, I remain +your obedient servant,</p> + +<p class="ar"><span class="sc">A Poor Clerk</span>."</p> + +<p class="i1">Many witnesses attest the ferocious bodily chastisement +inflicted upon male apprentices in workshops:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In Sedgley they are sometimes struck with a red-hot iron, +and burned and bruised simultaneously; sometimes they have +'a flash of lightning' sent at them. When a bar of iron is drawn +white-hot from the forge it emits fiery particles, which the man +commonly flings in a shower upon the ground by a swing of his +arm, before placing the bar upon the anvil. This shower is sometimes +directed at the boy. It may come over his hands and face, +his naked arms, or on his breast. If his shirt be open in front, +which is usually the case, the red-hot particles are lodged therein, +and he has to shake them out as fast as he can."—<i>Horne, Report</i>, +p. 76, § 757. See also witnesses, p. 56, 1. 24; p. 59, 1. 54.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In Darlaston, however, the children appear to be very little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +beaten, and in Bilston there were only a few instances of cruel +treatment: 'the boys are kicked and cuffed abundantly, but not +with any vicious or cruel intention, and only with an idea that +this is getting the work done.'"—Ibid. p. 62, 65, §§ 660, 688.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In Wednesbury the treatment is better than in any other +town in the district. The boys are not generally subject to any +severe corporal chastisement, though a few cases of ill-treatment +occasionally occur. 'A few months ago an adult workman broke +a boy's arm by a blow with a piece of iron; the boy went to school +till his arm got well; his father and mother thought it a good +opportunity to give him some schooling.'"—Ibid. <i>Evidence</i>, No. +331.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But the class of children in this district the most abused and +oppressed are the apprentices, and particularly those who are +bound to the small masters among the locksmiths, key and bolt +makers, screwmakers, &c. Even among these small masters, +there are respectable and humane men, who do not suffer any +degree of poverty to render them brutal; but many of these men +treat their apprentices not so much with neglect and harshness, +as with ferocious violence, the result of unbridled passions, excited +often by ardent spirits, acting on bodies exhausted by over-work, +and on minds which have never received the slightest moral +or religious culture, and which, therefore, never exercise the +smallest moral or religious restraint."—Ibid.</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Evidence from all classes,—masters, journeymen, residents, +magistrates, clergymen, constables, and, above +all, from the mouths of the poor oppressed sufferers +themselves, is adduced to a heart-breaking extent. The +public has been excited to pity by Dickens's picture of +Smike—in Willenhall, there are many Smikes.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged sixteen: 'His master stints him from six in +the morning till ten and sometimes eleven at night, as much as +ever he can do; and if he don't do it, his master gives him no +supper, and gives him a good hiding, sometimes with a big strap, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +sometimes with a big stick. His master has cut his head open five +times—once with a key and twice with a lock; knocked the corner +of a lock into his head twice—once with an iron bolt, and +once with an iron shut—a thing that runs into the staple. His +master's name is —— ——, of Little London. There is another +apprentice besides him, who is treated just as bad.'"—Ibid. p. +32, 1. 4.</p> + +<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged fifteen: 'Works at knob-locks with —— ——. +Is a fellow-apprentice with —— ——. Lives in the house of his +master. Is beaten by his master, who hits him sometimes with +his fists, and sometimes with the file-haft, and sometimes with a +stick—it's no matter what when he's a bit cross; sometimes hits +him with the locks; has cut his head open four or five times; so +he has his fellow apprentice's head. Once when he cut his head +open with a key, thinks half a pint of blood run off him.'"—Ibid. +p. 32, 1. 19.</p> + +<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged fourteen: 'Has been an in-door apprentice +three years. Has no wages; nobody gets any wages for him. +Has to serve till he is twenty-one. His master behaves very bad. +His mistress behaves worse, like a devil; she beats him; knocks +his head against the wall. His master goes out a-drinking, and +when he comes back, if any thing's gone wrong that he (the boy) +knows nothing about, he is beat all the same.'"—Ibid. p. 32, 1. 36.</p> + +<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged sixteen: 'His master sometimes hits him +with his fist, sometimes kicks him; gave him the black eye he +has got; beat him in bed while he was asleep, at five in the +morning, because he was not up to work. He came up-stairs +and set about him—set about him with his fist. Has been over +to the public office, Brummagem, to complain; took a note with +him, which was written for him; his brother gave it to the public +office there, but they would not attend to it; they said they +could do no good, and gave the note back. He had been beaten +at that time with a whip-handle—it made wales all down his arms +and back and all; everybody he showed it to said it was scandalous. +Wishes he could be released from his master, who's never +easy but when he's a-beating of me. Never has enough to eat at +no time; ax him for more, he won't gie it me.'"—Ibid. p. 30, 1. 5.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged seventeen: 'Has no father or mother to take +his part. His master once cut his head open with a flat file-haft, +and used to pull his ears nearly off; they bled so he was obliged to +go into the house to wipe them with a cloth,'"—Ibid. p. 37, 1. 7.</p> + +<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged fifteen: 'The neighbours who live agen the +shop will say how his master beats him; beats him with a strap, +and sometimes a nut-stick; sometimes the wales remain upon +him for a week; his master once cut his eyelid open, cut a hole +in it, and it bled all over his files that he was working with,'"—Ibid. +p. 37, 1. 47.</p> + +<p class="i1">"—— ——, aged 18: 'His master once ran at him with a +hammer, and drove the iron-head of the hammer into his side—he +felt it for weeks; his master often knocks him down on the +shop-floor; he can't tell what it's all for, no more than you can; +don't know what it can be for unless it's this, his master thinks +he don't do enough work for him. When he is beaten, his master +does not lay it on very heavy, as some masters do, only beats him +for five minutes at a time; should think that was enough, +though.'"—<i>Horne, Evidence</i>, p. 37, 1. 57.</p></div> + +<p class="i1">All this exists in a Christian land! Surely telescopic +philanthropists must be numerous in Great Britain. +Wonderful to relate, there are many persons instrumental +in sustaining this barbarous system, who profess +a holy horror of slavery, and who seldom rise up +or lie down without offering prayers on behalf of the +African bondsmen, thousands of miles away. Verily, +there are many people in this motley world so organized +that they can scent corruption "afar off," but gain no +knowledge of the foulness under their very noses.</p> + +<p class="i1">Henry Mayhew, in his "London Labour and the +London Poor," gives some very interesting information +in regard to the workshops in the great metropolis of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +the British Empire. "In the generality of trades, the +calculation is that one-third of the hands are fully employed, +one-third partially, and one-third unemployed +throughout the year." The wages of those who are +regularly employed being scant, what must be the condition +of those whose employment is but casual and precarious? +Mayhew says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The hours of labour in mechanical callings are usually twelve, +two of them devoted to meals, or seventy-two hours (less by the +permitted intervals) in a week. In the course of my inquiries for +the <i>Chronicle</i>, I met with slop cabinet-makers, tailors, and milliners, +who worked sixteen hours and more daily, their toil being only +interrupted by the necessity of going out, if small masters, to +purchase materials, and offer the goods for sale; or, if journeymen +in the slop trade, to obtain more work and carry what was +completed to the master's shop. They worked on Sundays also; +one tailor told me that the coat he worked at on the previous +Sunday was for the Rev. Mr. ——, who 'little thought it,' and +these slop-workers rarely give above a few minutes to a meal. +Thus they toil forty hours beyond the hours usual in an honourable +trade, (112 hours instead of 72,) in the course of a week, or +between three and four days of the regular hours of work of the +six working days. In other words, two such men will in less +than a week accomplish work which should occupy three men a +full week; or 1000 men will execute labour fairly calculated to +employ 1500 at the least. A paucity of employment is thus +caused among the general body, by this system of over-labour +decreasing the share of work accruing to the several operatives, +and so adding to surplus hands.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Of over-work, as regards excessive labour, both in the general +and fancy cabinet trade, I heard the following accounts, which +different operatives concurred in giving; while some represented +the labour as of longer duration by at least an hour, and some +by two hours a day, than I have stated.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The labour of the men who depend entirely on 'the slaughter-houses' +for the purchase of their articles is usually seven +days a week the year through. That is, seven days—for Sunday-work +is all but universal—each of thirteen hours, or ninety-one +hours in all; while the established hours of labour in the +'honourable trade' are six days of the week, each of ten hours, +or sixty hours in all. Thus fifty per cent. is added to the extent +of the production of low-priced cabinet work, merely from 'over-hours'; +but in some cases I heard of fifteen hours for seven days +in the week, or 105 hours in all.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Concerning the hours of labour in this trade, I had the following +minute particulars from a garret-master who was a chair-maker:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I work from six every morning to nine at night; some work +till ten. My breakfast at eight stops me for ten minutes. I can +breakfast in less time, but it's a rest. My dinner takes me say +twenty minutes at the outside; and my tea eight minutes. All +the rest of the time I'm slaving at my bench. How many +minutes' rest is that, sir? Thirty-eight; well, say three-quarters +of an hour, and that allows a few sucks at a pipe when I rest; +but I can smoke and work too. I have only one room to work +and eat in, or I should lose more time. Altogether, I labour +fourteen and a quarter hours every day, and I must work on Sundays—at +least forty Sundays in the year. One may as well work +as sit fretting. But on Sundays I only work till it's dusk, or till +five or six in summer. When it's dusk I take a walk. I'm not +well dressed enough for a Sunday walk when it's light, and I +can't wear my apron on that day very well to hide patches. But +there's eight hours that I reckon I take up every week, one with +another, in dancing about to the slaughterers. I'm satisfied that +I work very nearly 100 hours a week the year through; deducting +the time taken up by the slaughterers, and buying stuff—say +eight hours a week—it gives more than ninety hours a week for +my work, and there's hundreds labour as hard as I do, just for a +crust.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The East-end turners generally, I was informed, when inquiring +into the state of that trade, labour at the lathe from six +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +o'clock in the morning till eleven and twelve at night, being +eighteen hours' work per day, or one hundred and eight hours per +week. They allow themselves two hours for their meals. It +takes them, upon an average, two hours more every day fetching +and carrying their work home. Some of the East-end men work +on Sundays, and not a few either,' said my informant. 'Sometimes +I have worked hard,' said one man, 'from six one morning +till four the next, and scarcely had any time to take my meals in +the bargain. I have been almost suffocated with the dust flying +down my throat after working so many hours upon such heavy +work too, and sweating so much. It makes a man drink where +he would not.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"This system of over-work exists in the 'slop' part of almost +every business; indeed, it is the principal means by which the +cheap trade is maintained. Let me cite from my letters in the +<i>Chronicle</i> some more of my experience on this subject. As +regards the London mantuamakers, I said:—'The workwomen +for good shops that give fair, or tolerably fair wages, and expect +good work, can make six average-sized mantles in a week, <i>working +from ten to twelve hours a day</i>; but the slop-workers by toiling +from thirteen to sixteen hours a day, will make <i>nine</i> such sized +mantles in a week. In a season of twelve weeks, 1000 workers +for the slop-houses and warehouses would at this rate make +108,000 mantles, or 36,000 more than workers for the fair trade. +Or, to put it in another light, these slop-women, by being compelled, +in order to live, to work such over-hours as inflict lasting +injury on the health, supplant, by their over-work and over-hours, +the labour of 500 hands, working the regular hours."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Mayhew states it as a plain, unerring law, that +"over-work makes under-pay, and under-pay makes +over-work." True; but under-pay in the first place +gave rise to prolonged hours of toil; and in spite of all +laws that may be enacted, as long as a miserable pittance +is paid to labourers, and that, too, devoured by +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +taxes, supporting an aristocracy in luxury, so long will +the workman be compelled to slave for a subsistence.</p> + +<p class="i1">The "strapping" system, which demands an undue +quantity of work from a journeyman in the course of a +day, is extensively maintained in London. Mr. Mayhew +met with a miserable victim of this system of +slavery, who appeared almost exhausted with excessive +toil. The poor fellow said—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'I work in what is called a strapping-shop, and have worked +at nothing else for these many years past in London. I call +"strapping" doing as much work as a human being or a horse +possibly can in a day, and that without any hanging upon the +collar, but with the foreman's eyes constantly fixed upon you, +from six o'clock in the morning to six o'clock at night. The shop +in which I work is for all the world like a prison; the silent system +is as strictly carried out there as in a model jail. If a man +was to ask any common question of his neighbour, except it was +connected with his trade, he would be discharged there and then. +If a journeyman makes the least mistake he is packed off just the +same. A man working at such places is almost always in fear; +for the most trifling things he's thrown out of work in an instant. +And then the quantity of work that one is forced to get through +is positively awful; if he can't do a plenty of it he don't stop +long where I am. No one would think it was possible to get so +much out of blood and bones. No slaves work like we do. At +some of the strapping shops the foreman keeps continually walking +about with his eyes on all the men at once. At others the +foreman is perched high up, so that he can have the whole of the +men under his eye together. I suppose since I knew the trade +that a <i>man does four times the work that he did formerly</i>. I know +a man that's done four pairs of sashes in a day, and one is considered +to be a good day's labour. What's worse than all, the +men are every one striving one against the other. Each is trying +to get through the work quicker than his neighbours. Four +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +or five men are set the same job, so that they may be all pitted +against one another, and then away they go, every one striving +his hardest for fear that the others should get finished first. +They are all tearing along, from the first thing in the morning to +the last at night, as hard as they can go, and when the time +comes to knock off they are ready to drop. It was hours after I +got home last night before I could get a wink of sleep; the soles +of my feet were on fire, and my arms ached to that degree that I +could hardly lift my hand to my head. Often, too, when we get +up of a morning, we are more tired than when we went to bed, +for we can't sleep many a night; but we musn't let our employers +know it, or else they'd be certain we couldn't do enough +for them, and we'd get the sack. So, tired as we may be, we are +obliged to look lively, somehow or other, at the shop of a morning. +If we're not beside our bench the very moment the bell's +done ringing, our time's docked—they won't give us a single +minute out of the hour. If I was working for a fair master, I +should do nearly one-third, and sometimes a half, less work than +I am now forced to get through; and, even to manage that much, +I shouldn't be idle a second of my time. It's quite a mystery to +me how they <i>do</i> contrive to get so much work out of the men. +But they are very clever people. They know how to have the +most out of a man, better than any one in the world. They are +all picked men in the shop—regular "strappers," and no mistake. +The most of them are five foot ten, and fine broad-shouldered, +strong-backed fellows too—if they weren't they wouldn't +have them. Bless you, they make no words with the men, they +sack them if they're not strong enough to do all they want; and +they can pretty soon tell, the very first shaving a man strikes in +the shop, what a chap is made of. Some men are done up at +such work—quite old men and gray, with spectacles on, by the +time they are forty. I have seen fine strong men, of thirty-six, +come in there, and be bent double in two or three years. They +are most all countrymen at the strapping shops. If they see a +great strapping fellow, who they think has got some stuff about +him that will come out, they will give him a job directly. We +are used for all the world like cab or omnibus-horses. Directly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +they've had all the work out of us, we are turned off, and I am +sure, after my day's work is over, my feelings must be very much +the same as one of the London cab-horses. As for Sunday, it is +<i>literally</i> a day of rest with us, for the greater part of us lay a-bed +all day, and even that will hardly take the aches and pains out +of our bones and muscles. When I'm done and flung by, of +course I must starve.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">It may be said that, exhausting as this labour certainly +is, it is not slavery; for the workman has a will of his +own, and need not work if he does not choose to do it. +Besides, he is not held by law; he may leave the shop; +he may seek some other land. These circumstances +make his case very different from the negro slave of +America. True, but the difference is in favour of the +negro slave. The London workman has only the alternative—such +labour as has been described, the workhouse, +or starvation. The negro slave seldom has such +grinding toil, is provided for whether he performs it or +not, and can look forward to an old age of comfort and +repose. The London workman may leave his shop, but +he will be either consigned to the prison of a workhouse +or starved. He might leave the country, if he could +obtain the necessary funds.</p> + +<p class="i1">Family work, or the conjoint labour of a workman's +wife and children, is one of the results of the wretchedly +rewarded slavery in the various trades. Mr Mayhew +gives the following statement of a "fancy cabinet" +worker upon this subject:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The most on us has got large families; we put the children +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +to work as soon as we can. My little girl began about six, but +about eight or nine is the usual age. 'Oh, poor little things,' said +the wife, 'they are obliged to begin the very minute they can use +their fingers at all.' The most of the cabinet-makers of the East +end have from five to six in family, and they are generally all at +work for them. The small masters mostly marry when they are +turned of twenty. You see our trade's coming to such a pass, +that unless a man has children to help him he can't live at all. +I've worked more than a month together, and the longest night's +rest I've had has been an hour and a quarter; ay, and I've been +up three nights a week besides. I've had my children lying ill, +and been obliged to wait on them into the bargain. You see we +couldn't live if it wasn't for the labour of our children, though it +makes 'em—poor little things!—old people long afore they are +growed up.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Why, I stood at this bench,' said the wife, 'with my child, +only ten years of age, from four o'clock on Friday morning till +ten minutes past seven in the evening, without a bit to eat or +drink. I never sat down a minute from the time I began till I +finished my work, and then I went out to sell what I had done. +I walked all the way from here [Shoreditch] down to the Lowther +Arcade to get rid of the articles.' Here she burst out into a +violent flood of tears, saying, 'Oh, sir, it is hard to be obliged to +labour from morning till night as we do, all of us, little ones and +all, and yet not be able to live by it either.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And you see the worst of it is, this here children's labour is of +such value now in our trade, that there's more brought into the +business every year, so that it's really for all the world <i>like breeding +slaves</i>. Without my children I don't know how we should be +able to get along.' 'There's that little thing,' said the man, pointing +to the girl ten years of age, before alluded to, as she sat at +the edge of the bed, 'why she works regularly every day from +six in the morning till ten at night. She never goes to school; +we can't spare her. There's schools enough about here for a +penny a week, but we could not afford to keep her without working. +If I'd ten more children I should be obliged to employ them +all the same way, and there's hundreds and thousands of children +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +now slaving at this business. There's the M——'s; they have a +family of eight, and the youngest to the oldest of all works at the +bench; and the oldest a'n't fourteen. I'm sure, of the two thousand +five hundred small masters in the cabinet line, you may +safely say that two thousand of them, at the very least, have from +five to six in family, and that's upward of twelve thousand children +that's been put to the trade since prices have come down. +Twenty years ago I don't think there was a child at work in our +business; and I am sure there is not a small master now whose +whole family doesn't assist him. But what I want to know is, +what's to become of the twelve thousand children when they're +growed up and come regular into the trade? Here are all my +ones growing up without being taught any thing but a business +that I know they must starve at.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"In answer to my inquiry as to what dependence he had in +case of sickness, 'Oh, bless you,' he said, 'there's nothing but the +parish for us. I <i>did</i> belong to a benefit society about four years +ago, but I couldn't keep up my payments any longer. I was in +the society above five-and-twenty years, and then was obliged to +leave it after all. I don't know of one as belongs to any friendly +society, and I don't think there is a man as can afford it in our +trade now. They must all go to the workhouse when they're sick +or old.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The "trading operatives," or those labourers who employ +subordinate and cheaper work-people, are much +decried in England; but they, also, are the creations +of the general system. A workman frequently ascertains +that he can make more money with less labour, by +employing women or children at home, than if he did +all of his own work; and very often men are driven to +this resource to save themselves from being worked to +death. The condition of those persons who work for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +the "trading operatives," or "middlemen," is as miserable +as imagination may conceive.</p> + +<p class="i1">In Charles Kingsley's popular novel, "Alton Locke," +we find a vivid and truthful picture of the London tailor's +workshop, and the slavery of the workmen, which may +be quoted here in illustration:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"I stumbled after Mr. Jones up a dark, narrow iron staircase, +till we emerged through a trap-door into a garret at the top of +the house. I recoiled with disgust at the scene before me; and +here I was to work—perhaps through life! A low lean-to room, +stifling me with the combined odours of human breath and perspiration, +stale beer, the sweet sickly smell of gin, and the sour +and hardly less disgusting one of new cloth. On the floor, thick +with dust and dirt, scraps of stuff and ends of thread, sat some +dozen haggard, untidy, shoeless men, with a mingled look of care +and recklessness that made me shudder. The windows were +tight closed to keep out the cold winter air; and the condensed +breath ran in streams down the panes, checkering the dreary outlook +of chimney-tops and smoke. The conductor handed me over +to one of the men.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Here Crossthwaite, take this younker and make a tailor of +him. Keep him next you, and prick him up with your needle if +he shirks.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"He disappeared down the trap-door, and mechanically, as if +in a dream, I sat down by the man and listened to his instructions, +kindly enough bestowed. But I did not remain in peace +two minutes. A burst of chatter rose as the foreman vanished, +and a tall, bloated, sharp-nosed young man next me bawled in +my ear—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I say, young 'un, fork out the tin and pay your footing at +Conscrumption Hospital!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What do you mean?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'An't he just green?—Down with the stumpy—a tizzy for a +pot of half-and-half.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I never drink beer.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Then never do,' whispered the man at my side; 'as sure as +hell's hell, it's your only chance.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"There was a fierce, deep earnestness in the tone, which made +me look up at the speaker, but the other instantly chimed in.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Oh, yer don't, don't yer, my young Father Mathy! then +yer'll soon learn it here if yer want to keep your victuals down.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And I have promised to take my wages home to my mother.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Oh criminy! hark to that, my coves! here's a chap as is +going to take the blunt home to his mammy.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Ta'nt much of it the old un'll see,' said another. 'Ven yer +pockets it at the Cock and Bottle, my kiddy, yer won't find much +of it left o' Sunday mornings.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Don't his mother know he's out?' asked another; 'and won't +she know it—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Ven he's sitting in his glory</span> + </div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Half-price at the Vic-tory.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Oh no, ve never mentions her—her name is never heard. Certainly +not, by no means. Why should it?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well, if yer won't stand a pot,' quoth the tall man, 'I will, +that's all, and blow temperance. 'A short life and a merry one,' +says the tailor—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">The ministers talk a great deal + about port,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-2"><span style="font-size:larger;">And they makes Cape wine + very dear,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">But blow their hi's if ever they + tries</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-2"><span style="font-size:larger;">To deprive a poor cove of + his beer.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Here, Sam, run to the Cock and Bottle for a pot of half-and-half +to my score.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"A thin, pale lad jumped up and vanished, while my tormentor +turned to me:</p> + +<p class="i1">"I say, young 'un, do you know why we're nearer heaven here +than our neighbours?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I shouldn't have thought so,' answered I with a <i>naïveté</i> which +raised a laugh, and dashed the tall man for a moment.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yer don't? then I'll tell yer. Acause we're atop of the +house in the first place, and next place yer'll die here six months +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +sooner nor if yer worked in the room below. A'n't that logic and +science, Orator?' appealing to Crossthwaite.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Why?' asked I.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Acause you get all the other floors' stinks up here, as well +as your own. Concentrated essence of man's flesh, is this here +as you're a-breathing. Cellar work-room we calls Rheumatic +Ward, because of the damp. Ground-floor's, Fever Ward—them +as don't get typhus gets dysentery, and them as don't get dysentery +gets typhus—your nose 'd tell yer why if you opened the +back windy. First floor's Ashmy Ward—don't you hear 'um +now through the cracks in the boards, a-puffing away like a nest +of young locomotives? And this here more august and upper-crust +cockloft is the Conscrumptive Hospital. First you begins +to cough, then you proceed to expectorate—spittoons, as you see, +perwided free gracious for nothing—fined a kivarten if you +spits on the floor—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Then your cheeks they grow red, and + your nose it grows thin,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">And your bones they sticks out, till + they comes through your skin:</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>and then, when you've sufficiently covered the poor dear shivering +bare backs of the hairystocracy,</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Die, die, die,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Away you fly,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Your soul is in the sky!</span></div> +</div></div> + +<p>as the hinspired Shakspeare wittily remarks.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"And the ribald lay down on his back, stretched himself out, +and pretended to die in a fit of coughing, which last was alas! +no counterfeit, while poor I, shocked and bewildered, let my tears +fall fast upon my knees.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Fine him a pot!' roared one, 'for talking about kicking the +bucket. He's a nice young man to keep a cove's spirits up, and +talk about "a short life and a merry one." Here comes the heavy. +Hand it here to take the taste of that fellow's talk out of my +mouth.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well, my young 'un,' recommenced my tormentor, 'and +how do you like your company?'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Leave the boy alone,' growled Crossthwaite: 'don't you see +he's crying?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Is that any thing good to eat? Give me some on it, if it is—it'll +save me washing my face.' And he took hold of my hair +and pulled my head back.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I'll tell you what, Jemmy Downes,' said Crossthwaite, in a +voice that made him draw back, 'if you don't drop that, I'll give +you such a taste of my tongue as shall turn you blue.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You'd better try it on, then. Do—only just now—if you +please.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Be quiet, you fool!' said another. 'You're a pretty fellow +to chaff the orator. He'll slang you up the chimney afore you +can get your shoes on.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Fine him a kivarten for quarrelling,' cried another; and the +bully subsided into a minute's silence, after a <i>sotto voce</i>—'Blow +temperance, and blow all Chartists, say I!' and then delivered +himself of his feelings in a doggrel song:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Some folks leads coves a dance, + </span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With their pledge of temperance, + </span></div> + <div class="verse indent-7"><span style="font-size:larger;">And their plans for donkey + sociation;</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">And their pocket-fulls they crams + </span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">By their patriotic flams,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-7"><span style="font-size:larger;">And then swears 'tis for the + good of the nation.</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">But I don't care two inions</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">For political opinions,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-7"><span style="font-size:larger;">While I can stand my heavy and + my quartern;</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">For to drown dull care within, + </span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">In baccy, beer, and gin,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-7"><span style="font-size:larger;">Is the prime of a + working-tailor's fortin!</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">"'There's common sense for you now; hand the pot here.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"I recollect nothing more of that day, except that I bent myself +to my work with assiduity enough to earn praises from Crossthwaite. +It was to be done, and I did it. The only virtue I ever +possessed (if virtue it be) is the power of absorbing my whole +heart and mind in the pursuit of the moment, however dull or +trivial, if there be good reason why it should be pursued at all.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"I owe, too, an apology to my readers for introducing all this +ribaldry. God knows it is as little to my taste as it can be to theirs, +but the thing exists; and those who live, if not by, yet still beside +such a state of things, ought to know what the men are like, +to whose labour, ay, life-blood, they owe their luxuries. They +are 'their brothers' keepers,' let them deny it as they will."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">As a relief from misery, the wretched workmen generally +resort to intoxicating liquors, which, however, +ultimately render them a hundredfold more miserable. +In "Alton Locke," this is illustrated with an almost +fearful power, in the life and death of the tailor Downes. +After saving the wretched man from throwing himself +into the river, Alton Locke accompanies him to a disgusting +dwelling, in Bermondsey. The story continues:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"He stopped at the end of a miserable blind alley, where a +dirty gas-lamp just served to make darkness visible, and show the +patched windows and rickety doorways of the crazy houses, +whose upper stories were lost in a brooding cloud of fog; and the +pools of stagnant water at our feet: and the huge heap of cinders +which filled up the waste end of the alley—a dreary black, formless +mound, on which two or three spectral dogs prowled up and +down after the offal, appearing and vanishing like dark imps in +and out of the black misty chaos beyond.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The neighbourhood was undergoing, as it seemed, 'improvements,' +of that peculiar metropolitan species which consists in +pulling down the dwellings of the poor, and building up rich +men's houses instead; and great buildings, within high temporary +palings, had already eaten up half the little houses; as the +great fish and the great estates, and the great shopkeepers, eat +up the little ones of their species—by the law of competition, +lately discovered to be the true creator and preserver of the universe. +There they loomed up, the tall bullies, against the dreary +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +sky, looking down with their grim, proud, stony visages, on the +misery which they were driving out of one corner, only to accumulate +and intensify it in another.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The house at which we stopped was the last in the row; all +its companions had been pulled down; and there it stood, leaning +out with one naked ugly side into the gap, and stretching out +long props, like feeble arms and crutches, to resist the work of +demolition.</p> + +<p class="i1">"A group of slatternly people were in the entry, talking loudly, +and as Downes pushed by them, a woman seized him by the arm.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Oh! you unnatural villain!—To go away after your drink, +and leave all them poor dead corpses locked up, without even +letting a body go in to stretch them out!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And breeding the fever, too, to poison the whole house!' +growled one.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The relieving-officer's been here, my cove,' said another; 'and +he's gone for a peeler and a search-warrant to break open the +door, I can tell you!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"But Downes pushed past unheeding, unlocked a door at the +end of the passage, thrust me in, locked it again, and then rushed +across the room in chase of two or three rats, who vanished into +cracks and holes.</p> + +<p class="i1">"And what a room! A low lean-to with wooden walls, without +a single article of furniture; and through the broad chinks of the +floor shone up as it were ugly glaring eyes, staring at us. They +were the reflections of the rushlight in the sewer below. The +stench was frightful—the air heavy with pestilence. The first +breath I drew made my heart sink, and my stomach turn. But +I forgot every thing in the object which lay before me, as Downes +tore a half-finished coat off three corpses laid side by side on the +bare floor.</p> + +<p class="i1">"There was his little Irish wife;—dead—and naked—the +wasted white limbs gleamed in the lurid light; the unclosed eyes +stared, as if reproachfully, at the husband whose drunkenness +had brought her there to kill her with the pestilence; and on +each side of her a little, shrivelled, impish, child-corpse—the +wretched man had laid their arms round the dead mother's neck—and +there they slept, their hungering and wailing over at last +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +for ever: the rats had been busy already with them—but what +matter to them now?</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Look!' he cried; 'I watched 'em dying! Day after day I +saw the devils come up through the cracks, like little maggots +and beetles, and all manner of ugly things, creeping down their +throats; and I asked 'em, and they said they were the fever +devils.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"It was too true; the poisonous exhalations had killed them. +The wretched man's delirium tremens had given that horrible +substantiality to the poisonous fever gases.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Suddenly Downes turned on me almost menacingly. 'Money! +money! I want some gin!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"I was thoroughly terrified—and there was no shame in feeling +fear, locked up with a madman far my superior in size and +strength, in so ghastly a place. But the shame, and the folly +too, would have been in giving way to my fear; and with a boldness +half assumed, half the real fruit of excitement and indignation +at the horrors I beheld, I answered—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'If I had money, I would give you none. What do you want +with gin? Look at the fruits of your accursed tippling. If you +had taken my advice, my poor fellow,' I went on, gaining courage +as I spoke, 'and become a water-drinker, like me'——</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Curse you and your water-drinking! If you had had no +water to drink or wash with for two years but that—that,' pointing +to the foul ditch below—'If you had emptied the slops in +there with one hand, and filled your kettle with the other'——</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Do you actually mean that that sewer is your only drinking +water?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Where else can we get any? Everybody drinks it; and you +shall too—you shall!' he cried, with a fearful oath, 'and then see +if you don't run off to the gin-shop, to take the taste of it out of +your mouth. Drink! and who can help drinking, with his +stomach turned with such hell-broth as that—or such a hell's +blast as this air is here, ready to vomit from morning till night +with the smells? I'll show you. You shall drink a bucket-full +of it, as sure as you live, you shall.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"And he ran out of the back door, upon a little balcony, which +hung over the ditch.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"I tried the door, but the key was gone, and the handle too. +I beat furiously on it, and called for help. Two gruff authoritative +voices were heard in the passage.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Let us in; I'm the policeman!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Let me out, or mischief will happen!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The policeman made a vigorous thrust at the crazy door; and +just as it burst open, and the light of his lantern streamed into +the horrible den, a heavy splash was heard outside.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'He has fallen into the ditch!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'He'll be drowned, then, as sure as he's a born man,' shouted +one of the crowd behind.</p> + +<p class="i1">"We rushed out on the balcony. The light of the policeman's +lantern glared over the ghastly scene—along the double row of +miserable house-backs, which lined the sides of the open tidal +ditch—over strange rambling jetties, and balconies, and sleeping +sheds, which hung on rotting piles over the black waters, with +phosphorescent scraps of rotten fish gleaming and twinkling out +of the dark hollows, like devilish gravelights—over bubbles of +poisonous gas, and bloated carcases of dogs, and lumps of offal, +floating on the stagnant olive-green hell-broth—over the slow sullen +rows of oily ripple which were dying away into the darkness +far beyond, sending up, as they stirred, hot breaths of miasma—the +only sign that a spark of humanity, after years of foul life, +had quenched itself at last in that foul death. I almost fancied +that I could see the haggard face staring up at me through the +slimy water; but no—it was as opaque as stone."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Downes had been a "sweater," and before his death +was a "sweater's slave."</p> + +<p class="i1">When the comparatively respectable workshop in +which Alton Locke laboured was broken up, and the +workmen were told by the heartless employer that he +intended to give out work, for those who could labour +at home, these toil-worn men held a meeting, at which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +a man named John Crossthwaite, thus spoke for his +oppressed and degraded class:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"We were all bound to expect this. Every working tailor must +come to this at last, on the present system; and we are only +lucky in having been spared so long. You all know where this +will end—in the same misery as fifteen thousand out of twenty +thousand of our class are enduring now. We shall become the +slaves, often the bodily prisoners, of Jews, middlemen, and sweaters, +who draw their livelihood out of our starvation. We shall +have to face, as the rest have, ever-decreasing prices of labour, +ever-increasing profits made out of that labour by the contractors +who will employ us—arbitrary fines, inflicted at the caprice of +hirelings—the competition of women, and children, and starving +Irish—our hours of work will increase one-third, our actual pay +decrease to less than one-half; and in all this we shall have no +hope, no chance of improvement in wages, but ever more penury, +slavery, misery, as we are pressed on by those who are sucked by +fifties—almost by hundreds—yearly, out of the honourable trade +in which we were brought up, into the infernal system of contract +work, which is devouring our trade and many others, body +and soul. Our wives will be forced to sit up night and day to +help us—our children must labour from the cradle, without chance +of going to school, hardly of breathing the fresh air of heaven—our +boys as they grow up must turn beggars or paupers—our +daughters, as thousands do, must eke out their miserable earnings +by prostitution. And, after all, a whole family will not gain +what one of us had been doing, as yet, single-handed. You know +there will be no hope for us. There is no use appealing to government +or Parliament. I don't want to talk politics here. I +shall keep them for another place. But you can recollect as well +as I can, when a deputation of us went up to a member of Parliament—one +that was reputed a philosopher, and a political economist, +and a liberal—and set before him the ever-increasing penury +and misery of our trade and of those connected with it; you recollect +his answer—that, however glad he would be to help us, it +was impossible—he could not alter the laws of nature—that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +wages were regulated by the amount of competition among the +men themselves, and that it was no business of government, or +any one else, to interfere in contracts between the employer and +employed, that those things regulated themselves by the laws of +political economy, which it was madness and suicide to oppose. +He may have been a wise man. I only know that he was a rich +one. Every one speaks well of the bridge which carries him over. +Every one fancies the laws which fill his pockets to be God's laws. +But I say this: If neither government nor members of Parliament +can help us, we must help ourselves. Help yourselves, and Heaven +will help you. Combination among ourselves is the only +chance. One thing we can do—sit still.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And starve!' said some one."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Crossthwaite is represented as having preferred to +endure want rather than work under the sweating system. +But there are few men who possess such spirit +and determination. Men with families are compelled, +by considering those who are dependent upon them, to +work for whatever prices the masters choose to pay. +They are free labourers—if they do not choose to work—they +are perfectly free—to starve!</p> + +<p class="i1">The government took the initiative in the sweating +system. It set the example by giving the army and +navy clothes to contractors, and taking the lowest +tenders. The police clothes, the postmen's clothes, the +convict's clothes, are all contracted for by sweaters and +sub-sweaters, till government work is the very last, +lowest resource to which a poor, starved-out wretch +betakes himself, to keep body and soul together. Thus +is profit made from the pauperism of men, the slavery of +children, and the prostitution of women, in Great Britain.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">Some years ago the following announcement appeared +in the Village Gazette:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Peter Moreau and his wife are dead, aged twenty-five years. +Too much work has killed them and many besides. We say—Work +like a negro, like a galley-slave: we ought to say—Work +like a freeman."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Work like negro slaves, indeed! There is no such +work in America, even among the slaves; all day long, +from Monday morning till Saturday night, week after +week, and year after year, till the machine is worn out. +American slaves and convicts in New South Wales are +fat and happy, compared with the labourers of England. +It frequently happens that Englishmen commit crimes +for the purpose of becoming galley-slaves in New South +Wales. They do not keep their purpose secret; they +declare it loudly with tears and passionate exclamations +to the magistrate who commits them for trial, to the +jury who try them, and to the judge who passes sentence +on them. This is published in the newspapers, +but so often that it excites no particular comment.</p> + +<p class="i1">The parish apprentices are the worst-treated slaves +in the world. They are at the mercy of their masters +and mistresses during their term of apprenticeship, +without protectors, and without appeal against the most +cruel tyranny. In the reign of George III., one Elizabeth +Brownrigg was hanged for beating and starving to +death her parish apprentices. In 1831, another woman, +Esther Hibner by name, was hanged in London for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +beating and starving to death a parish apprentice. Two +instances of punishment, for thousands of cases of impunity!</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The evidence in the case of Esther Hibner proved that a number +of girls, pauper apprentices, were employed in a workshop; +that their victuals consisted of garbage, commonly called hog's-wash, +and that of this they never had enough to stay the pains +of hunger; that they were kept half-naked, half-clothed in dirty +rags; that they slept in a heap on the floor, amid filth and stench; +that they suffered dreadfully from cold; that they were forced to +work so many hours together that they used to fall asleep while +at work; that for falling asleep, for not working as hard as their +mistress wished, they were beaten with sticks, with fists, dragged +by the hair, dashed on to the ground, trampled upon, and otherwise +tortured; that they were found, all of them more or less, +covered with chilblains, scurvy, bruises, and wounds; that one +of them died of ill-treatment; and—mark this—that the discovery +of that murder was made in consequence of the number of coffins +which had issued from Esther Hibner's premises, and raised the +curiosity of her neighbours. For this murder Mrs. Hibner was +hanged; but what did she get for all the other murders which, +referring to the number of coffins, we have a right to believe that +she committed? She got for each £10. That is to say, whenever +she had worked, starved, beaten, dashed and trampled a girl +to death, she got another girl to treat in the same way, with £10 +for her trouble. She carried on a trade in the murder of parish +apprentices; and if she had conducted it with moderation, if the +profit and custom of murder had not made her grasping and careless, +the constitution, which protects the poor as well as the rich, +would never have interfered with her. The law did not permit +her to do what she liked with her apprentices, as Americans do +with their slaves; oh no. Those free-born English children were +merely bound as apprentices, with their own consent, under the +eye of the magistrate, in order that they might learn a trade and +become valuable subjects. But did the magistrate ever visit Mrs. +Hibner's factory to see how she treated the free-born English +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +girls? never. Did the parish officers? no. Was there any legal +provision for the discovery of the woman's trade in murder? +none."</p> + +<p class="i1">"You still read on the gates of London poorhouses, 'strong, +healthy boys and girls,' &c.; and boys or girls you may obtain +by applying within, as many as you please, free-born, with the +usual fee. Having been paid for taking them, and having gone +through the ceremonies of asking their consent and signing bonds +before a magistrate, you may make them into sausages, for any +thing the constitution will do to prevent you. If it should be +proved that you kill even one of them, you will be hanged; but +you may half-starve them, beat them, torture them, any thing +short of killing them, with perfect security; and using a little +circumspection, you may kill them too, without much danger. +Suppose they die, who cares? Their parents? they are orphans, +or have been abandoned by their parents. The parish officers? +very likely, indeed, that these, when the poorhouse is crammed +with orphan and destitute children, should make inquiries troublesome +to themselves; inquiries which, being troublesome to you, +might deprive them of your custom in future. The magistrate? +he asked the child whether it consented to be your apprentice; +the child said 'Yes, your worship;' and there his worship's duty +ends. The neighbours? of course, if you raise their curiosity like +Esther Hibner, but not otherwise. In order to be quite safe, I +tell you you must be a little circumspect. But let us suppose +that you are timid, and would drive a good trade without the +shadow of risk. In that case, half-starve your apprentices, cuff +them, kick them, torment them till they run away from you. +They will not go back to the poorhouse, because there they would +be flogged for having run away from you: besides, the poorhouse +is any thing but a pleasant place. The boys will turn beggars +or thieves, and the girls prostitutes; you will have pocketed £10 +for each of them, and may get more boys and girls on the same +terms, to treat in the same way. This trade is as safe as it is +profitable."<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a></p></div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">THE WORKHOUSE SYSTEM OF BRITAIN.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> English writers generally point to the poor-laws +of their country as a proud evidence of the merciful and +benevolent character of the government. Look at those +laws! so much have we done in the cause of humanity. +See how much money we expend every year for the relief +of the poor! Our workhouses are maintained at an +enormous expense. Very well; but it takes somewhat +from the character of the doctor, to ascertain that he +gave the wound he makes a show of healing. What are +the sources of the immense pauperism of Britain? The +enormous monopoly of the soil, and the vast expense of +civil and ecclesiastical aristocracy. The first takes work +from one portion of the people, and the latter takes the +profits of work from the other portion. The "glorious +institutions" of Britain crowd the workhouses; and we +are now going to show the horrible system under which +paupers are held in these establishments.</p> + +<p class="i1">The labouring classes are constantly exposed to the +chance of going to the workhouse. Their wages are so +low, or so preyed upon by taxes, that they have no +opportunity of providing for a "rainy day." A few +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +weeks' sickness, a few weeks' absence of work, and, +starvation staring them in the face, they are forced to +apply to the parish authorities for relief. Once within +the gate of the workhouse, many never entertain the +idea of coming out until they are carried forth in their +coffins.</p> + +<p class="i1">Each parish has a workhouse, which is under the +control of several guardians, who, again, are under the +orders of a Board of Commissioners sitting at London. +Many—perhaps a majority—of the guardians of the +parishes are persons without those humane feelings +which should belong to such officials, and numerous +petty brutalities are added to those which are inherent +in the British workhouse system.</p> + +<p class="i1">Robert Southey says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"When the poor are incapable of contributing any longer to +their own support, they are removed to what is called the workhouse. +I cannot express to you the feelings of hopelessness and +dread with which all the decent poor look on to this wretched +termination of a life of labour. To this place all vagrants are +sent for punishment; unmarried women with child go here to be +delivered; and poor orphans and base-born children are brought +up here until they are of age to be apprenticed off; the other inmates +are of those unhappy people who are utterly helpless, parish +idiots and madmen, the blind and the palsied, and the old who +are fairly worn out. It is not in the nature of things that the +superintendents of such institutions as these should be gentle-hearted, +when the superintendence is undertaken merely for the +sake of the salary. To this society of wretchedness the labouring +poor of England look as their last resting-place on this side of the +grave; and, rather than enter abodes so miserable, they endure +the severest privations as long as it is possible to exist. A feeling +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +of honest pride makes them shrink from a place where guilt +and poverty are confounded; and it is heart-breaking for those +who have reared a family of their own to be subjected, in their +old age, to the harsh and unfeeling authority of persons younger +than themselves, neither better born nor better bred."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">This is no less true, than admirable as a specimen of +prose. It was true when Southey penned it, and it is +true now. Let us look at some of the provisions of the +poor-laws of England, which form the much-lauded system +of charity.</p> + +<p class="i1">One of these provisions refuses relief to those who +will not accept that relief except in the character of +inmates of the workhouse, and thus compels the poor +applicants to either perish of want or tear asunder all +the ties of home. To force the wretched father from +the abode of his family, is a piece of cruelty at which +every humane breast must revolt. What wonder that +many perish for want of food, rather than leave all that +is dear to them on earth? If they must die, they prefer +to depart surrounded by affectionate relatives, rather +than by callous "guardians of the poor," who calculate +the trouble and the expense of the burial before the +breath leaves the body. The framers of the poor-laws +forgot—perchance—that, "Be it ever so humble, there's +no place like home."</p> + +<p class="i1">Another provision of the poor-laws denies the consolations +of religion to those whose conscientious scruples +will not allow them to worship according to the forms +of the established church. This is totally at variance +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +with the spirit of true Christianity, and a most barbarous +privation. One would think that British legislators +doubted the supreme efficacy of the Christian faith in +saving souls from destruction. Why should not the +balm be applied, regardless of the formal ceremonies, +if it possesses any healing virtues? But the glory of +the English Church is its iron observance of forms; +and, rather than relax one jot, it would permit the souls +of millions to be swept away into the gloom of eternal +night.</p> + +<p class="i1">Then, there is the separation regulation, dragging +after it a long train of horrors and heart-rending sufferings—violating +the law of holy writ—"Whom God +hath joined together, let no man put asunder"—and +trampling upon the best feelings of human nature.</p> + +<p class="i1">A thrilling illustration of the operation of this law is +narrated by Mr. James Grant.<a name="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> We quote:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Two persons, man and wife, of very advanced years, were at +last, through the infirmities consequent on old age, rendered incapable +of providing for themselves. Their friends were like +themselves, poor; but, so long as they could, they afforded them +all the assistance in their power. The infirmities of the aged +couple became greater and greater; so, as a necessary consequence, +did their wants. The guardians of the poor—their parish +being under the operation of the new measure—refused to afford +them the slightest relief. What was to be done? They had no +alternative but starvation and the workhouse. To have gone to +the workhouse, even had they been permitted to live together, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +could have been painful enough to their feelings; but to go there +to be separated from each other, was a thought at which their +hearts sickened. They had been married for nearly half a century; +and during all that time had lived in the greatest harmony +together. I am speaking the language of unexaggerated truth +when I say, that their affection for each other increased, instead +of suffering diminution, as they advanced in years. A purer or +stronger attachment than theirs has never, perhaps, existed in a +world in which there is so much of mutability as in ours. Many +were the joys and many were the sorrows which they had equally +shared with each other. Their joys were increased, because participated +in by both: their sorrows were lessened, because of the +consolations they assiduously administered to each other when +the dispensations of Providence assumed a lowering aspect. The +reverses they had experienced, in the course of their long and +eventful union, had only served to attach them the more strongly +to each other, just as the tempestuous blast only serves to cause +the oak to strike its roots more deeply in the earth. With minds +originally constituted alike, and that constitution being based on +a virtuous foundation, it was, indeed, to be expected that the lapse +of years would only tend to strengthen their attachment. Nothing, +in a word, could have exceeded the ardour of their sympathy with +each other. The only happiness which this world could afford +them was derived from the circumstance of being in each other's +company; and the one looked forward to the possibility of being +left alone, when the other was snatched away by death, with feelings +of the deepest pain and apprehension. Their wish was, in +subordination to the will of the Supreme Being, that as they had +been so long united in life, so in death they might not be divided. +Their wish was in one sense realized, though not in the sense they +had desired. The pressure of want, aggravated by the increasing +infirmities of the female, imposed on her the necessity of repairing +to the workhouse. The husband would most willingly have followed, +had they been permitted to live together when there, in +the hope that they should, even in that miserable place, be able +to assuage each other's griefs, as they had so often done before. +That was a permission, however, which was not to be granted to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +them. The husband therefore determined that he would live on a +morsel of bread and a draught of cold water, where he was, rather +than submit to the degradation of a workhouse, in which he would +be separated from her who had been the partner of his joys and +griefs for upward of half a century. The hour of parting came; +and a sad and sorrowful hour it was to the aged couple. Who +shall describe their feelings on the occasion? Who can even +enter into those feelings? No one. They could only be conceived +by themselves. The process of separation was as full of +anguish to their mental nature as is the severance of a limb from +the body to the physical constitution. And that separation was +aggravated by the circumstance, that both felt a presentiment, so +strong as to have all the force of a thorough conviction, that their +separation was to be final as regarded this world. What, then, +must have been the agonies of the parting hour in the case of a +couple whose mental powers were still unimpaired, and who had +lived in the most perfect harmony for the protracted period of +fifty years? They were, I repeat, not only such as admit of no +description, but no one, who has not been similarly circumstanced, +can even form an idea of them. The downcast look, the tender +glances they emitted to each other, the swimming eye, the moist +cheek, the deep-drawn sigh, the choked utterance, the affectionate +embrace—all told, in the language of resistless eloquence, of the +anguish caused by their separation. The scene was affecting in +the extreme, even to the mere spectator. It was one which must +have softened the hardest heart, as it drew tears from every eye +which witnessed it; what, then, must the actual realization of it +in all its power have been to the parties themselves? The separation +did take place; the poor woman was wrenched from the +almost death-like grasp of her husband. She was transferred to +the workhouse; and he was left alone in the miserable hovel in +which they had so long remained together. And what followed? +What followed! That may be soon told: it is a short history. +The former pined away, and died in three weeks after the +separation; and the husband only survived three weeks more. +Their parting was thus but for a short time, though final as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +regarded this world. Ere six weeks had elapsed they again met +together—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Met on that happy, happy + shore,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Where friends do meet to part + no more."</span></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">Here was an outrage, shocking to every heart of ordinary +sensibility, committed by authority of the British +government, in due execution of its "charitable enactments." +In searching for a parallel, we can only find it +among those savage tribes who kill their aged and infirm +brethren to save trouble and expense. Yet such actions +are sanctioned by the government of a civilized nation, +in the middle of the nineteenth century; and that, too, +when the government is parading its philanthropy in +the face of the world, and, pharisaically, thanking God +that it is not as other nations are, authorizing sin and +wrong.</p> + +<p class="i1">It was said by the advocates of this regulation of +separation, that paupers themselves have no objection +to be separated from each other; because, generally +speaking, they have become old and unable to assist +each other, before they throw themselves permanently +on the parish—in other words, that the poor have not +the same affection for relatives and friends that the +wealthy have. Well, that argument was characteristic +of a land where the fineness of a man's feelings are +assumed to be exactly in proportion to the position of +his ancestry and the length of his purse—perfectly in +keeping, as an artist would say. A pauper husband +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +and wife, after living together, perhaps for thirty years, +become old and desire to be separated, according to the +representations of the British aristocrat. His iron logic +allows no hearts to the poor. To breathe is human—to +feel is aristocratic.</p> + +<p class="i1">Equally to be condemned is the regulation which +prohibits the visits to the workhouse of the friends of +the inmates. The only shadow of a reason for this is +an alleged inconvenience attending the admission of +those persons who are not inmates; and for such a reason +the wife is prevented from seeing her husband, the +children from seeing their father, and the poor heart-broken +inmate from seeing a friend—perhaps the only +one he has in the world. We might suppose that the +authors of this regulation had discovered that adversity +multiplies friends, instead of driving them away from +its gloom. Paupers must be blessed beyond the rest +of mankind in that respect. Instances are recorded +in which dying paupers have been refused the consolation +of a last visit from their children, under the operation +of this outrageous law. Mr. James Grant mentions +a case that came to his notice:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"An instance occurred a few months since in a workhouse in +the suburbs of the metropolis, in which intelligence was accidentally +conveyed to a daughter that her father was on his death-bed; +she hurried that moment to the workhouse, but was refused +admission. With tears in her eyes, and a heart that was ready +to break, she pleaded the urgency of the case. The functionary +was deaf to her entreaties; as soon might she have addressed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +them to the brick wall before her. His answer was, 'It is contrary +to the regulations of the place; come again at a certain +hour,' She applied to the medical gentleman who attended the +workhouse, and through his exertions obtained admission. She +flew to the ward in which her father was confined: he lay cold, +motionless, and unconscious before her—his spirit was gone; he +had breathed his last five minutes before. Well may we exclaim, +when we hear of such things, 'Do we live in a Christian country? +Is this a civilized land?'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Certainly, Mr. Grant, it is a land of freedom and philanthropy +unknown upon the rest of the earth's surface.</p> + +<p class="i1">From a survey of the poor-laws it appears that +poverty is considered criminal in Great Britain. The +workhouses, which are declared to have been established +for the relief of the poor, are worse than prisons for +solitary confinement; for the visits of friends and the +consolations of religion, except under particular forms, +are denied to the unhappy inmates, while they are permitted +to the criminal in his dungeon.</p> + +<p class="i1">What an English pauper is may be learned from the +following description of the "bold peasantry," which +we extract from one of the countless pamphlets on +pauperism written by Englishmen.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"What is that defective being, with calfless legs and stooping +shoulders, weak in body and mind, inert, pusillanimous and +stupid, whose premature wrinkles and furtive glance tell of +misery and degradation? That is an English peasant or pauper; +for the words are synonymous. His sire was a pauper, and his +mother's milk wanted nourishment. From infancy his food has +been bad, as well as insufficient; and he now feels the pains of +unsatisfied hunger nearly whenever he is awake. But half-clothed, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +and never supplied with more warmth than suffices to +cook his scanty meals, cold and wet come to him, and stay by +him, with the weather. He is married, of course; for to this he +would have been driven by the poor-laws, even if he had been, +as he never was, sufficiently comfortable and prudent to dread +the burden of a family. But, though instinct and the overseer +have given him a wife, he has not tasted the highest joys of husband +and father. His partner and his little ones being, like himself, +often hungry, seldom warm, sometimes sick without aid, and +always sorrowful without hope, are greedy, selfish, and vexing; +so, to use his own expression, he 'hates the sight of them,' and +resorts to his hovel only because a hedge affords less shelter from +the wind and rain. Compelled by parish law to support his +family, which means to join them in consuming an allowance +from the parish, he frequently conspires with his wife to get that +allowance increased, or prevent its being diminished. This +brings begging, trickery, and quarrelling; and ends in settled +craft. Though he has the inclination he wants the courage to +become, like more energetic men of his class, a poacher or smuggler +on a large scale; but he pilfers occasionally, and teaches +his children to lie and steal. His subdued and slavish manner +toward his great neighbours shows that they treat him with suspicion +and harshness. Consequently he at once dreads and hates +them; but he will never harm them by violent means. Too degraded +to be desperate, he is only thoroughly depraved. His +miserable career will be short; rheumatism and asthma are conducting +him to the workhouse, where he will breathe his last +without one pleasant recollection, and so make room for another +wretch, who may live and die in the same way. This is a sample +of one class of English peasants. Another class is composed +of men who, though paupers to the extent of being in part supported +by the parish, were not bred and born in extreme destitution, +and who, therefore, in so far as the moral depends on the +physical man, are qualified to become wise, virtuous, and happy. +They have large muscles, an upright mien, and a quick perception. +With strength, energy, and skill, they would earn a comfortable +subsistence as labourers, if the modern fashion of paying +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +wages out of the poor-box did not interfere with the due course +of things, and reduce all the labourers of a parish, the old and +the young, the weak and the strong, the idle and the industrious, +to that lowest rate of wages, or rather of weekly payment to +each, which, in each case, is barely sufficient for the support of +life. If there were no poor-laws, or if the poor-laws were such +that labour was paid in proportion to the work performed, and +not according to a scale founded on the power of gastric juice +under various circumstances, these superior men would be employed +in preference to the inferior beings described above, +would earn twice as much as the others could earn, and would +have every motive for industry, providence, and general good +conduct. As it is, their superior capacity as labourers is of no +advantage to them. They have no motive for being industrious +or prudent. What they obtain between labour and the rate is +but just enough to support them miserably. They are tempted +to marry for the sake of an extra allowance from the parish: and +they would be sunk to the lowest point of degradation but for the +energy of their minds, which they owe to their physical strength. +Courage and tenderness are said to be allied: men of this class +usually make good husbands and affectionate parents. Impelled +by want of food, clothes, and warmth, for themselves and their +families, they become poachers wherever game abounds, and +smugglers when opportunity serves. By poaching or smuggling, +or both, many of them are enabled to fill the bellies of their children, +to put decent clothes on the backs of their wives, and to +keep the cottage whole, with a good fire in it, from year's end to +year's end. The villains! why are they not taken up? They +are taken up sometimes, and are hunted always, by those who +administer rural law. In this way they learn to consider two +sets of laws—those for the protection of game, and those for the +protection of home manufactures—as specially made for their +injury. Be just to our unpaid magistrates! who perform their +duty, even to the shedding of man's blood, in defence of pheasants +and restrictions on trade. Thus the bolder sort of husbandry +labourers, by engaging in murderous conflicts with gamekeepers +and preventive men, become accustomed to deeds of violence, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +and, by living in jails, qualified for the most desperate courses. +They also imbibe feelings of dislike, or rather of bitter hatred, +toward the rural magistracy, whom they regard as oppressors +and natural enemies; closely resembling, in this respect, the +defective class of peasants from whom they differ in so many particulars. +Between these two descriptions of peasantry there is +another, which partakes of the characteristics of both classes, but +in a slighter degree, except as regards their fear and hatred of +the rural aristocracy. In the districts where paupers and game +abound, it would be difficult to find many labourers not coming +under one of these descriptions. By courtesy, the entire body is +called the bold peasantry of England. But is nothing done by +the 'nobility, clergy, and gentry,' to conciliate the affection of the +pauper mass, by whose toil all their own wealth is produced? +Charity! The charity of the poor-laws, which paupers have been +taught to consider a right, which operates as a curse to the able-bodied +and well-disposed, while it but just enables the infirm of +all ages to linger on in pain and sorrow. Soup! Dogs'-meat, +the paupers call it. They are very ungrateful; but there is a +way of relieving a man's necessities which will make him hate +you; and it is in this way, generally, that soup is given to the +poor. Books, good little books, which teach patience and submission +to the powers that be! With which such paupers as obtain +them usually boil their kettles, when not deterred by fear of the +reverend donor. Of this gift the design is so plain and offensive, +that its effect is contrary to what was intended, just as children +from whom obedience is very strictly exacted are commonly +rebels at heart. What else? is nothing else done by the rural +rich to win the love of the rural poor? Speaking generally, +since all rules have exceptions, the privileged classes of our rural +districts take infinite pains to be abhorred by their poorest neighbours. +They enclose commons. They stop footpaths. They +wall in their parks. They set spring-guns and man-traps. They +spend on the keep of high-bred dogs what would support half as +many children, and yet persecute a labouring man for owning +one friend in his cur. They make rates of wages, elaborately +calculating the minimum of food that will keep together the soul +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +and body of a clodhopper. They breed game in profusion for +their own amusement, and having thus tempted the poor man to +knock down a hare for his pot, they send him to the treadmill, +or the antipodes, for that inexpiable offence. They build jails, +and fill them. They make new crimes and new punishments for +the poor. They interfere with the marriages of the poor, compelling +some, and forbidding others, to come together. They shut +up paupers in workhouses, separating husband and wife, in +pounds by day and wards by night. They harness poor men to +carts. They superintend alehouses, decry skittles, deprecate +beer-shops, meddle with fairs, and otherwise curtail the already +narrow amusements of the poor. Even in church, where some +of them solemnly preach that all are equal, they sit on cushions, +in pews boarded, matted, and sheltered by curtains from the wind +and the vulgar gaze, while the lower order must put up with a +bare bench on a stone floor, which is good enough for them. +Everywhere they are ostentatious in the display of wealth and +enjoyment; while, in their intercourse with the poor, they are +suspicious, quick at taking offence, vindictive when displeased, +haughty, overbearing, tyrannical, and wolfish; as it seems in +the nature of man to be toward such of his fellows as, like sheep, +are without the power to resist."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In London, a species of slavery pertains to the workhouse +system which has justly excited much indignation. +This is the employment of paupers as scavengers in the +streets, without due compensation, and compelling them +to wear badges, as if they were convicted criminals. +Mr. Mayhew has some judicious remarks upon this subject:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"If pauperism be a disgrace, then it is unjust to turn a man +into the public thoroughfare, wearing the badge of beggary, to be +pointed at and scorned for his poverty, especially when we are +growing so particularly studious of our criminals that we make +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +them wear masks to prevent even their faces being seen.<a name="FNanchor_91_91" +id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> Nor +is it consistent with the principles of an enlightened national +morality that we should force a body of honest men to labour +upon the highways, branded with a degrading garb, like convicts. +Neither is it <i>wise</i> to do so, for the shame of poverty soon becomes +deadened by the repeated exposure to public scorn; and thus the +occasional recipient of parish relief is ultimately converted into +the hardened and habitual pauper. "Once a pauper always a +pauper," I was assured was the parish rule; and here lies the +<i>rationale</i> of the fact. Not long ago this system of employing <i>badged</i> +paupers to labour on the public thoroughfares was carried to a +much more offensive extent than it is even at present. At one +time the pauper labourers of a certain parish had the attention of +every passer-by attracted to them while at their work, for on the +back of each man's garb—a sort of smock frock—was marked, +with sufficient prominence, '<span class="sc">Clerkenwell. Stop it!</span>' This public +intimation that the labourers were not only paupers, but regarded +as thieves, and expected to purloin the parish dress they wore, +attracted public attention, and was severely commented upon at a +meeting. The '<span class="sc">Stop it!</span>' therefore was cancelled, and the frocks +are now <i>merely</i> lettered '<span class="sc">Clerkenwell</span>.' Before the alteration +the men very generally wore the garment inside out."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The pauper scavengers employed by the metropolitan +parishes are divided into three classes: 1. The +in-door paupers, who receive no wages whatever, their +lodging, food, and clothing being considered to be sufficient +remuneration for their labour; 2. The out-door +paupers, who are paid partly in money and partly in +kind, and employed in some cases three days, and in +others six days in the week; 3. The unemployed labourers +of the district, who are set to scavenging work +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +by the parish and paid a regular money-wage—the employment +being constant, and the rate of remuneration +varying from 1<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i> to 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a day for each of the six +days, or from 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> to 15<i>s.</i> a week.</p> + +<p class="i1">The first class of pauper-scavengers, or those who receive +nothing for their labour beyond their lodging, food, +and clothing, are treated as slaves. The labour is compulsory, +without inducements for exertion, and conducted +upon the same system which the authorities of the parish +would use for working cattle. One of these scavengers +gave the following account of this degrading labour to +Mr. Mayhew:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Street-sweeping,' he said, 'degrades a man, and if a man's +poor he hasn't no call to be degraded. Why can't they set the +thieves and pickpockets to sweep? they could be watched easy +enough; there's always idle fellers as reckons theirselves real +gents, as can be got for watching and sitch easy jobs, for they +gets as much for them as three men's paid for hard work in a +week. I never was in a prison, but I've heerd that people there +is better fed and better cared for than in workusses. What's the +meaning of that, sir, I'd like to know. You can't tell me, but I +can tell you. The workus is made as ugly as it can be, that poor +people may be got to leave it, and chance dying in the street +rather.' [Here the man indulged in a gabbled detail of a series +of pauper grievances which I had a difficulty in diverting or interrupting. +On my asking if the other paupers had the same opinion +as to the street-sweeping as he had, he replied:—] 'To be sure +they has; all them that has sense to have a 'pinion at all has; +there's not two sides to it anyhow. No, I don't want to be kept +and do nothink. I want <i>proper</i> work. And by the rights of it I +might as well be kept with nothink to do as —— or ——' [parish +officials]. 'Have they nothing to do?' I asked. 'Nothink, but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +to make mischief and get what ought to go to the poor. It's salaries +and such like as swallers the rates, and that's what every +poor family knows as knows any think. Did I ever like my work +better? Certainly not. Do I take any pains with it? Well, +where would be the good? I can sweep well enough, when I please, +but if I could do more than the best man as ever Mr. Drake paid +a pound a week to, it wouldn't be a bit better for me—not a bit, +sir, I assure you. We all takes it easy whenever we can, but the +work <i>must</i> be done. The only good about it is that you get outside +the house. It's a change that way certainly. But we work +like horses and is treated like asses.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The second mode of pauper scavenging, viz. that +performed by out-door paupers, and paid for partly in +money and partly in kind, is strongly condemned, as +having mischievous and degrading tendencies. The +men thus employed are certainly not independent labourers, +though the means of their subsistence are partly +the fruits of their toil. Their exceedingly scant payment +keeps them hard at work for a very unreasonable +period. Should they refuse to obey the parish regulations +in regard to the work, the pangs of hunger are +sure to reach them and compel them to submit. Death +is the only door of escape. From a married man employed +by the parish in this work, Mr. Mayhew obtained +the following interesting narrative, which is a sad revelation +of pauper slavery:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'I was brought up as a type-founder; my father, who was one, +learnt me his trade; but he died when I was quite a young man, +or I might have been better perfected in it. I was comfortably +off enough then, and got married. Very soon after that I was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +taken ill with an abscess in my neck, you can see the mark of it +still,' [He showed me the mark.] 'For six months I wasn't able +to do a thing, and I was a part of the time, I don't recollect how +long, in St. Bartholomew's Hospital. I was weak and ill when I +came out, and hardly fit for work; I couldn't hear of any work I +could get, for there was a great bother in the trade between master +and men. Before I went into the hospital, there was money +to pay to doctors; and when I came out I could earn nothing, so +every thing went; yes, sir, every thing. My wife made a little +matter with charing for families she'd lived in, but things are in +a bad way if a poor woman has to keep her husband. She was +taken ill at last, and then there was nothing but the parish for us. +I suffered a great deal before it come to that. It was awful. No +one can know what it is but them that suffers it. But I didn't +know what in the world to do. We lived then in St. Luke's, and +were passed to our own parish, and were three months in the +workhouse. The living was good enough, better than it is now, +I've heard, but I was miserable.' ['And I was <i>very</i> miserable,' +interposed the wife, 'for I had been brought up comfortable; my +father was a respectable tradesman in St. George's-in-the-East, and +I had been in good situations.'] 'We made ourselves,' said the +husband, 'as useful as we could, but we were parted of course. +At the three months' end, I had 10<i>s.</i> given to me to come out with, +and was told I might start costermongering on it. But to a man +not up to the trade, 10<i>s.</i> won't go very far to keep up costering. +I didn't feel master enough of my own trade by this time to try +for work at it, and work wasn't at all regular. There were good +hands earning only 12<i>s.</i> a week. The 10<i>s.</i> soon went, and I had +again to apply for relief, and got an order for the stone-yard to go +and break stones. Ten bushels was to be broken for 15<i>d.</i> It was +dreadful hard work at first. My hands got all blistered and +bloody, and I've gone home and cried with pain and wretchedness. +At first it was on to three days before I could break the ten +bushels. I felt shivered to bits all over my arms and shoulders, +and my head was splitting. I then got to do it in two days, and +then in one, and it grew easier. But all this time I had only +what was reckoned three days' work in a week. That is, you see, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +sir, I had only three times ten bushels of stones given to break in +a week, and earned only 3<i>s.</i> 9<i>d.</i> Yes, I lived on it, and paid 1<i>s.</i> +6<i>d.</i> a week rent, for the neighbours took care of a few sticks for us, +and the parish or a broker wouldn't have found them worth carriage. +My wife was then in the country with a sister. I lived +upon bread and dripping, went without fire or candle (or had one +only very seldom) though it wasn't warm weather. I can safely +say that for eight weeks I never tasted one bite of meat, and hardly +a bite of butter. When I couldn't sleep of a night, but that wasn't +often, it was terrible, very. I washed what bits of things I had +then, myself, and had sometimes to get a ha'porth of soap as a +favour, as the chandler said she 'didn't make less than a penn'orth.' +If I ate too much dripping, it made me feel sick. I hardly know +how much bread and dripping I ate in a week. I spent what +money I had in it and bread, and sometimes went without. I was +very weak, you may be sure, sir; and if I'd had the influenza or +any thing that way, I should have gone off like a shot, for I seemed +to have no constitution left. But my wife came back again and +got work at charing, and made about 4<i>s.</i> a week at it; but we +were still very badly off. Then I got to work on the roads every +day, and had 1<i>s.</i> and a quartern loaf a day, which was a rise. I +had only one child then, but men with larger families got two +quartern loaves a day. Single men got 9<i>d.</i> a day. It was far +easier work than stone-breaking too. The hours were from eight +to five in winter, and from seven to six in summer. But there's +always changes going on, and we were put on 1<i>s.</i> 1½<i>d.</i> a day and +a quartern loaf, and only three days a week. All the same as to +time of course. The bread wasn't good; it was only cheap. I +suppose there was twenty of us working most of the times as I +was. The gangsman, as you call him, but that's more for the +regular hands, was a servant of the parish, and a great tyrant. +Yes, indeed, when we had a talk among ourselves, there was +nothing but grumbling heard of. Some of the tales I've heard +were shocking; worse than what I've gone through. Everybody +was grumbling, except perhaps two men that had been twenty +years in the streets, and were like born paupers. They didn't +feel it, for there's a great difference in men. They knew no better. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +But anybody might have been frightened to hear some of the +men talk and curse. We've stopped work to abuse the parish +officers as might be passing. We've mobbed the overseers; and a +number of us, I was one, were taken before the magistrate for it: +but we told him how badly we were off, and he discharged us, and +gave us orders into the workhouse, and told 'em to see if nothing +could be done for us. We were there till next morning, and then +sent away without any thing being said.'"</p> + +<p class="i1">"'It's a sad life, sir, is a parish worker's. I wish to God I could +get out of it. But when a man has children he can't stop and +say, "I can't do this," and "I won't do that." Last week, now, +in costering, I lost 6<i>s.</i> [he meant that his expenses, of every kind, +exceeded his receipts by 6<i>s.</i>,] and though I can distil nectar, or +any thing that way, [this was said somewhat laughingly,] it's only +when the weather's hot and fine that any good at all can be done +with it. I think, too, that there's not the money among working-men +that there once was. Any thing regular in the way of pay +must always be looked at by a man with a family.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Of course the streets must be properly swept, and if I can +sweep them as well as Mr. Dodd's men, for I know one of them +very well, why should I have only 1<i>s.</i> 4½<i>d.</i> a week and three +loaves, and he have 16<i>s.</i>, I think it is. I don't drink, my wife +knows I don't, [the wife assented,] and it seems as if in a parish a +man must be kept down when he is down, and then blamed for it. +I may not understand all about it, but it looks queer."'</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The third system of parish work, where the labourer +is employed regularly, and paid a certain sum out of the +parochial fund, is superior to either of the other modes; +but still, the labourers are very scantily paid, subjected +to a great deal of tyranny by brutal officers, and miserably +provided. They endure the severest toil for a +wretched pittance, without being able to choose their +masters or their employment. No slaves could be more +completely at the mercy of their masters.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">The common practice of apprenticing children born +and reared in workhouses, to masters who may feed, +clothe, and beat them as they please, is touchingly illustrated +in Dickens's famous story of Oliver Twist. After +Oliver had been subjected for some time to the tender +mercies of guardians and overseers in the workhouse, it +was advertised that any person wanting an apprentice +could obtain him, and five pounds as a premium. He narrowly +escaped being apprenticed to a sweep, and finally +fell into the hands of Mr. Sowerberry, an undertaker. +In the house of that dismal personage, he was fed upon +cold bits, badly clothed, knocked about unmercifully, +and worked with great severity. Such is the common +fate of parish apprentices; and we do not think a more +truthful conception of the <i>beauties</i> of the system could +be conveyed than by quoting from the experience of +Dickens's workhouse boy:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Oliver had not been within the walls of the workhouse a quarter +of an hour, and had scarcely completed the demolition of a +second slice of bread, when Mr. Bumble, who had handed him +over to the care of an old woman, returned, and, telling him it was +a board night, informed him that the board had said he was to +appear before it forthwith.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Not having a very clearly defined notion what a live board +was, Oliver was rather astounded by this intelligence, and was not +quite certain whether he ought to laugh or cry. He had no time +to think about the matter, however; for Mr. Bumble gave him a +tap on the head with his cane to wake him up, and another on his +back to make him lively, and, bidding him follow, conducted him +into a large whitewashed room, where eight or ten fat gentlemen +were sitting round a table, at the top of which, seated in an armchair +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +rather higher than the rest, was a particularly fat gentleman +with a very round, red face.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Bow to the board,' said Bumble. Oliver brushed away two +or three tears that were lingering in his eyes, and seeing no board +but the table, fortunately bowed to that.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What's your name, boy?' said the gentleman in the high chair.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Oliver was frightened at the sight of so many gentlemen, which +made him tremble: and the beadle gave him another tap behind, +which made him cry; and these two causes made him answer in a +very low and hesitating voice; whereupon a gentleman in a white +waistcoat said he was a fool, which was a capital way of raising +his spirit, and putting him quite at his ease.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Boy,' said the gentleman in the high chair: 'listen to me. +You know you're an orphan, I suppose?'"</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What's that, sir?" inquired poor Oliver.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The boy <i>is</i> a fool—I thought he was,' said the gentleman in +the white waistcoat in a very decided tone. If one member of a +class be blessed with an intuitive perception of others of the same +race, the gentleman in the white waistcoat was unquestionably +well qualified to pronounce an opinion on the matter.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Hush!' said the gentleman who had spoken first. 'You +know you've got no father or mother, and that you are brought up +by the parish, don't you?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, sir,' replied Oliver, weeping bitterly.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What are you crying for?' inquired the gentleman in the +white waistcoat; and to be sure it was very extraordinary. What +<i>could</i> he be crying for?</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I hope you say your prayers every night,' said another gentleman +in a gruff voice, 'and pray for the people who feed you, +and take care of you, like a Christian.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, sir,' stammered the boy. The gentleman who spoke +last was unconsciously right. It would have been <i>very</i> like a +Christian, and a marvellously good Christian, too, if Oliver had +prayed for the people who fed and took care of <i>him</i>. But he +hadn't, because nobody had taught him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well you have come here to be educated, and taught a useful +trade,' said the red-faced gentleman in the high chair.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'So you'll begin to pick oakum to-morrow morning at six +o'clock,' added the surly one in the white waistcoat.</p> + +<p class="i1">"For the combination of both these blessings in the one simple +process of picking oakum, Oliver bowed low by the direction of +the beadle, and was then hurried away to a large ward, where, on +a rough hard bed, he sobbed himself to sleep. What a noble +illustration of the tender laws of this favoured country! they let +the paupers go to sleep!</p> + +<p class="i1">"Poor Oliver! he little thought, as he lay sleeping in happy +unconsciousness of all around him, that the board had that very +day arrived at a decision which would exercise the most material +influence over all his future fortunes. But they had. And this +was it:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"The members of this board were very sage, deep, philosophical +men; and when they came to turn their attention to the workhouse, +they found out at once, what ordinary folks would never +have discovered,—the poor people liked it! It was a regular +place of public entertainment for the poorer classes,—a tavern +where there was nothing to pay,—a public breakfast, dinner, tea, +and supper, all the year round,—a brick and mortar elysium, +where it was all play and no work. 'Oho!' said the board, looking +very knowing; 'we are the fellows to set this to rights; we'll stop +it all in no time.' So they established the rule, that all poor people +should have the alternative (for they would compel nobody, +not they,) of being starved by a gradual process in the house, or +by a quick one out of it. With this view, they contracted with +the water-works to lay on an unlimited supply of water, and with +a corn-factor to supply periodically small quantities of oat-meal: +and issued three meals of thin gruel a-day, with an onion twice a +week, and half a roll on Sundays. They made a great many other +wise and humane regulations having reference to the ladies, which +it is not necessary to repeat; kindly undertook to divorce poor +married people, in consequence of the great expense of a suit in +Doctors' Commons; and, instead of compelling a man to support +his family, as they had theretofore done, took his family away +from him, and made him a bachelor! There is no telling how +many applicants for relief under these last two heads would not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +have started up in all classes of society, if it had not been coupled +with the workhouse. But they were long-headed men, and they +had provided for this difficulty. The relief was inseparable from +the workhouse and the gruel; and that frightened people.</p> + +<p class="i1">"For the first three months after Oliver Twist was removed, the +system was in full operation. It was rather expensive at first, in +consequence of the increase in the undertaker's bill, and the necessity +of taking in the clothes of all the paupers, which fluttered +loosely on their wasted, shrunken forms, after a week or two's +gruel. But the number of workhouse inmates got thin, as well as +the paupers; and the board were in ecstasies. The room in which +the boys were fed was a large stone hall, with a copper at one end, +out of which the master, dressed in an apron for the purpose, and +assisted by one or two women, ladled the gruel at meal-times; of +which composition each boy had one porringer, and no more,—except +on festive occasions, and then he had two ounces and a +quarter of bread besides. The bowls never wanted washing—the +boys polished them with their spoons, till they shone again; and +when they had performed this operation, (which never took very +long, the spoons being nearly as large as the bowls,) they would +sit staring at the copper with such eager eyes, as if they could devour +the very bricks of which it was composed; employing themselves +meanwhile in sucking their fingers most assiduously, with +the view of catching up any stray splashes of gruel that might have +been cast thereon. Boys have generally excellent appetites: Oliver +Twist and his companions suffered the tortures of slow starvation +for three months; at last they got so voracious and wild with hunger, +that one boy, who was tall for his age, and hadn't been used +to that sort of thing, (for his father had kept a small cook's shop,) +hinted darkly to his companions, that unless he had another basin +of gruel <i>per diem</i>, he was afraid he should some night eat the boy +who slept next him, who happened to be a weakly youth of tender +age. He had a wild, hungry eye, and they implicitly believed him. +A council was held; lots were cast who should walk up to the master +after supper that evening, and ask for more; and it fell to +Oliver Twist.</p> + +<p class="i1">The evening arrived: the boys took their places; the master, in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +his cook's uniform, stationed himself at the copper; his pauper +assistants ranged themselves behind him; the gruel was served +out, and a long grace was said over the short commons. The gruel +disappeared, and the boys whispered to each other and winked at +Oliver, while his next neighbours nudged him. Child as he was, +he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. He rose +from the table, and, advancing, basin and spoon in hand, to the +master, said, somewhat alarmed at his own temerity—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Please, sir, I want some more.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The master was a fat, healthy man, but he turned very pale. +He gazed in stupefied astonishment on the small rebel for some +seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The assistants +were paralyzed with wonder, and the boys with fear.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What!' said the master at length, in a faint voice.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Please, sir,' replied Oliver, 'I want some more.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle, +pinioned him in his arms, and shrieked aloud for the beadle.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble +rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the +gentleman in the high chair, said—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir;—Oliver Twist has +asked for more.' There was a general start. Horror was depicted +on every countenance.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'For <i>more</i>!' said Mr. Limbkins. 'Compose yourself, Bumble, +and answer me distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for +more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'He did, sir,' replied Bumble.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'That boy will be hung,' said the gentleman in the white +waistcoat; 'I know that boy will be hung.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Nobody controverted the prophetic gentleman's opinion. An +animated discussion took place. Oliver was ordered into instant +confinement; and a bill was next morning pasted on the outside +of the gate, offering a reward of five pounds to anybody who +would take Oliver Twist off the hands of the parish; in other +words, five pounds and Oliver Twist were offered to any man or +woman who wanted an apprentice to any trade, business, or +calling.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'I never was more convinced of any thing in my life,' said +the gentleman in the white waistcoat, as he knocked at the gate +and read the bill next morning,—'I never was more convinced +of any thing in my life, than I am that that boy will come to be +hung.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"For a week after the commission of the impious and profane +offence of asking for more, Oliver remained a close prisoner in +the dark and solitary room to which he had been consigned by +the wisdom and mercy of the board. It appears, at first sight, +not unreasonable to suppose, that, if he had entertained a becoming +feeling of respect for the prediction of the gentleman in +the white waistcoat, he would have established that sage individual's +prophetic character, once and for ever, by tying one end +of his pocket-handkerchief to a hook in the wall, and attaching +himself to the other. To the performance of this feat, however, +there was one obstacle, namely, that pocket-handkerchiefs being +decided articles of luxury, had been, for all future times and +ages, removed from the noses of paupers by the express order of +the board in council assembled, solemnly given and pronounced +under their hands and seals. There was a still greater obstacle +in Oliver's youth and childishness. He only cried bitterly all +day; and when the long, dismal night came on, he spread his +little hands before his eyes to shut out the darkness, and crouching +in the corner, tried to sleep, ever and anon waking with a +start and tremble, and drawing himself closer and closer to the +wall, as if to feel even its cold hard surface were a protection in +the gloom and loneliness which surrounded him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Let it not be supposed by the enemies of 'the system,' that, +during the period of his solitary incarceration, Oliver was denied +the benefit of exercise, the pleasure of society, or the advantages +of religious consolation. As for exercise, it was nice cold weather, +and he was allowed to perform his ablutions every morning +under the pump, in a stone yard, in the presence of Mr. Bumble, +who prevented his catching cold, and caused a tingling sensation +to pervade his frame, by repeated applications of the cane; as for +society, he was carried every other day into the hall where the +boys dined, and there sociably flogged, as a public warning and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +example; and, so far from being denied the advantages of religious +consolation, he was kicked into the same apartment every +evening at prayer-time, and there permitted to listen to, and console +his mind with, a general supplication of the boys, containing +a special clause therein inserted by the authority of the board, in +which they entreated to be made good, virtuous, contented, and +obedient, and to be guarded from the sins and vices of Oliver +Twist, whom the supplication distinctly set forth to be under the +exclusive patronage and protection of the powers of wickedness, +and an article direct from the manufactory of the devil himself.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It chanced one morning, while Oliver's affairs were in this +auspicious and comfortable state, that Mr. Gamfield, chimney-sweeper, +was wending his way adown the High-street, deeply +cogitating in his mind his ways and means of paying certain +arrears of rent, for which his landlord had become rather pressing. +Mr. Gamfield's most sanguine calculation of funds could +not raise them within full five pounds of the desired amount; +and, in a species of arithmetical desperation, he was alternately +cudgelling his brains and his donkey, when, passing the workhouse, +his eyes encountered the bill on the gate.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Woo!' said Mr. Gamfield to the donkey.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The donkey was in a state of profound abstraction—wondering, +probably, whether he was destined to be regaled with a cabbage-stalk +or two, when he had disposed of the two sacks of soot +with which the little cart was laden; so, without noticing the +word of command, he jogged onward.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Gamfield growled a fierce imprecation on the donkey +generally, but more particularly on his eyes; and running after +him, bestowed a blow on his head which would inevitably have +beaten in any skull but a donkey's; then, catching hold of the +bridle, he gave his jaw a sharp wrench, by way of gentle reminder +that he was not his own master; and, having by these +means turned him round, he gave him another blow on the head, +just to stun him until he came back again; and, having done so, +walked to the gate to read the bill.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The gentleman with the white waistcoat was standing at the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +gate with his hands behind him, after having delivered himself +of some profound sentiments in the board-room. Having witnessed +the little dispute between Mr. Gamfield and the donkey, he +smiled joyously when that person came up to read the bill, for he +saw at once that Mr. Gamfield was just exactly the sort of master +Oliver Twist wanted. Mr. Gamfield smiled, too, as he perused the +document, for five pounds was just the sum he had been wishing +for; and, as to the boy with which it was encumbered, Mr. Gamfield, +knowing what the dietary of the workhouse was, well knew +he would be a nice small pattern, just the very thing for register +stoves. So he spelt the bill through again, from beginning to +end; and then, touching his fur cap in token of humility, accosted +the gentleman in the white waistcoat.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'This here boy, sir, wot the parish wants to 'prentis,' said Mr. +Gamfield.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, my man,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat, +with a condescending smile, 'what of him?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'If the parish vould like him to learn a light, pleasant trade, +in a good 'spectable chimbley-sweepin bisness,' said Mr. Gamfield, +'I wants a 'prentis, and I'm ready to take him.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Walk in,' said the gentleman with the white waistcoat. +And Mr. Gamfield having lingered behind, to give the donkey +another blow on the head, and another wrench of the jaw, as a +caution not to run away in his absence, followed the gentleman +in the white waistcoat into the room where Oliver had first seen +him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'It's a nasty trade,' said Mr. Limbkins, when Gamfield had +again stated his case.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Young boys have been smothered in chimeys, before now,' +said another gentleman.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'That's acause they damped the straw afore they lit it in the +chimbley to make'em come down again,' said Gamfield; 'that's +all smoke, and no blaze: vereas smoke a'n't o' no use at all in +makin' a boy come down; it only sinds him to sleep, and that's +wot he likes. Boys is wery obstinit, and wery lazy, gen'lm'n, +and there's nothink like a good hot blaze to make em come down +vith a run; it's humane, too, gen'lm'n, acause, even if they've +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +stuck in the chimbley, roastin' their feet makes 'em struggle to +hextricate theirselves.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The gentleman in the white waistcoat appeared very much +amused with this explanation; but his mirth was speedily checked +by a look from Mr. Limbkins. The board then proceeded to converse +among themselves for a few minutes, but in so low a tone +that the words, 'saving of expenditure,' 'look well in the accounts,' +'have a printed report published,' were alone audible; +and they only chanced to be heard on account of their being very +frequently repeated with great emphasis.</p> + +<p class="i1">"At length the whispering ceased, and the members of the +board having resumed their seats and their solemnity, Mr. Limbkins +said,</p> + +<p class="i1">"'We have considered your proposition, and we don't approve +of it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Not at all,' said the gentleman in the white waistcoat.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Decidedly not,' added the other members.</p> + +<p class="i1">"As Mr. Gamfield did happen to labour under the slight imputation +of having bruised three or four boys to death already, it +occurred to him that the board had perhaps, in some unaccountable +freak, taken it into their heads that this extraneous circumstance +ought to influence their proceedings. It was very unlike +their general mode of doing business, if they had; but still, as +he had no particular wish to revive the rumour, he twisted his +cap in his hands, and walked slowly from the table.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'So you won't let me have him, gen'lmen,' said Mr. Gamfield, +pausing near the door.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No,' replied Mr. Limbkins; 'at least, as it's a nasty business, +we think you ought to take something less than the premium +we offered.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Gamfield's countenance brightened, as with a quick step +he returned to the table, and said,</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What'll you give, gen'lmen? Come, don't be too hard on a +poor man. What'll you give?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I should say three pound ten was plenty,' said Mr. Limbkins.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Ten shillings too much,' said the gentleman in the white +waistcoat.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Come,' said Gamfield, 'say four pound, gen'lmen. Say +four pound, and you've got rid of him for good and all. There!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Three pound ten,' repeated Mr. Limbkins, firmly.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Come, I'll split the difference, gen'lmen,' urged Gamfield. +'Three pound fifteen.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Not a farthing more,' was the firm reply of Mr. Limbkins.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You're desp'rate hard upon me, gen'lmen,' said Gamfield, +wavering.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Pooh! pooh! nonsense!' said the gentleman in the white +waistcoat. 'He'd be cheap with nothing at all as a premium. +Take him, you silly fellow! He's just the boy for you. He +wants the stick now and then; it'll do him good; and his board +needn't come very expensive, for he hasn't been overfed since he +was born. Ha! ha! ha!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Gamfield gave an arch look at the faces round the table, +and, observing a smile on all of them, gradually broke into a +smile himself. The bargain was made, and Mr. Bumble was at +once instructed that Oliver Twist and his indentures were to be +conveyed before the magistrate for signature and approval, that +very afternoon.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In pursuance of this determination, little Oliver, to his excessive +astonishment, was released from bondage, and ordered to put +himself into a clean shirt. He had hardly achieved this very unusual +gymnastic performance, when Mr. Bumble brought him +with his own hands, a basin of gruel, and the holiday allowance +of two ounces and a quarter of bread; at sight of which Oliver +began to cry very piteously, thinking, not unnaturally, that the +board must have determined to kill him for some useful purpose, +or they never would have begun to fatten him up in this way.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Don't make your eyes red, Oliver, but eat your food, and be +thankful,' said Mr. Bumble, in a tone of impressive pomposity.</p> + +<p class="i1">'You're a-going to be made a 'prentice of, Oliver.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'A 'prentice, sir!' said the child, trembling.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, Oliver,' said Mr. Bumble. 'The kind and blessed gentlemen +which is so many parents to you, Oliver, when you have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +none of your own, are a-going to 'prentice you, and to set you up +in life, and make a man of you, although the expense to the +parish is three pound ten!—three pound ten, Oliver!—seventy +shillin's!—one hundred and forty sixpences!—and all for a +naughty orphan which nobody can love.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"As Mr. Bumble paused to take breath after delivering this +address, in an awful voice, the tears rolled down the poor child's +face, and he sobbed bitterly.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Come,' said Mr. Bumble, somewhat less pompously; for it +was gratifying to his feelings to observe the effect his eloquence +had produced. 'Come, Oliver, wipe your eyes with the cuffs of +your jacket, and don't cry into your gruel; that's a very foolish +action, Oliver.' It certainly was, for there was quite enough +water in it already.</p> + +<p class="i1">"On their way to the magistrate's, Mr. Bumble instructed +Oliver that all he would have to do would be to look very happy, +and say, when the gentleman asked him if he wanted to be apprenticed, +that he should like it very much indeed; both of +which injunctions Oliver promised to obey, the more readily as +Mr. Bumble threw in a gentle hint, that if he failed in either particular, +there was no telling what would be done to him. When +they arrived at the office he was shut up in a little room by himself, +and admonished by Mr. Bumble to stay there until he came +back to fetch him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"There the boy remained with a palpitating heart for half an +hour, at the expiration of which time Mr. Bumble thrust in his +head, unadorned with the cocked hat, and said aloud,</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Now, Oliver, my dear, come to the gentleman.' As Mr. +Bumble said this, he put on a grim and threatening look, and +added in a low voice, 'Mind what I told you, you young rascal.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Oliver stared innocently in Mr. Bumble's face at this somewhat +contradictory style of address; but that gentleman prevented +his offering any remark thereupon, by leading him at once +into an adjoining room, the door of which was open. It was a +large room with a great window; and behind a desk sat two old +gentlemen with powdered heads, one of whom was reading the +newspaper, while the other was perusing, with the aid of a pair +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +of tortoise-shell spectacles, a small piece of parchment which lay +before him. Mr. Limbkins was standing in front of the desk, on +one side; and Mr. Gamfield, with a partially washed face, on the +other; while two or three bluff-looking men in top-boots were +lounging about.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The old gentleman with the spectacles gradually dozed off, +over the little bit of parchment; and there was a short pause +after Oliver had been stationed by Mr. Bumble in front of the +desk.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'This is the boy, your worship,' said Mr. Bumble.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The old gentleman who was reading the newspaper raised +his head for a moment, and pulled the other old gentleman by +the sleeve, whereupon the last-mentioned old gentleman woke up.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Oh, is this the boy?' said the old gentleman.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'This is him, sir,' replied Mr. Bumble. 'Bow to the magistrate, +my dear.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Oliver roused himself, and made his best obeisance. He had +been wondering, with his eyes fixed on the magistrate's powder, +whether all boards were born with that white stuff on their +heads, and were boards from thenceforth, on that account.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well,' said the old gentleman, 'I suppose he's fond of chimney-sweeping?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'He dotes on it, your worship,' replied Bumble, giving Oliver +a sly pinch, to intimate that he had better not say he didn't.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And he <i>will</i> be a sweep, will he?' inquired the old gentleman.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'If we was to bind him to any other trade to-morrow, he'd +run away simultaneously, your worship,' replied Bumble.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And this man that's to be his master,—you, sir,—you'll +treat him well, and feed him, and do all that sort of thing,—will +you?' said the old gentleman.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'When I says I will, I means I will,' replied Mr. Gamfield, +doggedly.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You're a rough speaker, my friend, but you look an honest, +open-hearted man,' said the old gentleman, turning his spectacles +in the direction of the candidate for Oliver's premium, whose +villanous countenance was a regular stamped receipt for cruelty. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +But the magistrate was half blind, and half childish, so he +couldn't reasonably be expected to discern what other people did.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I hope I am, sir,' said Mr. Gamfield with an ugly leer.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I have no doubt you are, my friend,' replied the old gentleman, +fixing his spectacles more firmly on his nose, and looking +about him for the inkstand.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It was the critical moment of Oliver's fate. If the inkstand +had been where the old gentleman thought it was, he would have +dipped his pen into it and signed the indentures, and Oliver +would have been straightway hurried off. But, as it chanced to +be immediately under his nose, it followed as a matter of course, +that he looked all over his desk for it, without finding it; and +happening in the course of his search to look straight before him, +his gaze encountered the pale and terrified face of Oliver Twist, +who, despite of all the admonitory looks and pinches of Bumble, +was regarding the very repulsive countenance of his future master +with a mingled expression of horror and fear, too palpable to +be mistaken even by a half-blind magistrate.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The old gentleman stopped, laid down his pen, and looked +from Oliver to Mr. Limbkins, who attempted to take snuff with a +cheerful and unconcerned aspect.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'My boy,' said the old gentleman, leaning over the desk. +Oliver started at the sound,—he might be excused for doing so, +for the words were kindly said, and strange sounds frighten one. +He trembled violently, and burst into tears.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'My boy,' said the old gentleman, 'you look pale and +alarmed. What is the matter?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Stand a little away from him, beadle,' said the other magistrate, +laying aside the paper and leaning forward with an expression +of some interest. 'Now, boy, tell us what's the matter; +don't be afraid.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Oliver fell on his knees, and, clasping his hands together, +prayed that they would order him back to the dark room—that +they would starve him—beat him—kill him if they pleased, rather +than send him away with that dreadful man.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well!' said Mr. Bumble, raising his hands and eyes with +most impressive solemnity—'Well! of <i>all</i> the artful and designing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +orphans that ever I see, Oliver, you are one of the most bare-facedest.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Hold your tongue, beadle,' said the second old gentleman, +when Mr. Bumble had given vent to this compound adjective.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I beg your worship's pardon,' said Mr. Bumble, incredulous +of his having heard aright—'did your worship speak to me?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes—hold your tongue.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Bumble was stupefied with astonishment. A beadle +ordered to hold his tongue! A moral revolution.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The old gentleman in the tortoise-shell spectacles looked at +his companion; he nodded significantly.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'We refuse to sanction these indentures,' said the old gentleman, +tossing aside the piece of parchment as he spoke.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I hope,' stammered Mr. Limbkins—'I hope the magistrates +will not form the opinion that the authorities have been guilty +of any improper conduct, on the unsupported testimony of a mere +child.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The magistrates are not called upon to pronounce any opinion +on the matter,' said the second old gentleman, sharply. 'Take +the boy back to the workhouse and treat him kindly; he seems +to want it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"That same evening the gentleman in the white waistcoat most +positively and decidedly affirmed, not only that Oliver would be +hung, but that he would be drawn and quartered into the bargain. +Mr. Bumble shook his head with gloomy mystery, and said +he wished he might come to good: to which Mr. Gamfield replied +that he wished he might come to him, which, although he agreed +with the beadle in most matters, would seem to be a wish of a +totally opposite description.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The next morning the public were once more informed that +Oliver Twist was again to let, and that five pounds would be paid +to anybody who would take possession of him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In great families, when an advantageous place cannot be obtained, +either in possession, reversion, remainder, or expectancy, +for the young man who is growing up, it is a very general custom +to send him to sea. The board, in imitation of so wise and salutary +an example, took counsel together on the expediency of shipping +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +off Oliver Twist in some small trading-vessel bound to a good +unhealthy port, which suggested itself as the very best thing that +could possibly be done with him; the probability being that the +skipper would either flog him to death in a playful mood, some +day after dinner, or knock his brains out with an iron bar, both +pastimes being, as is pretty generally known, very favourite and +common recreations among gentlemen of that class. The more +the case presented itself to the board in this point of view, the +more manifold the advantages of the step appeared; so they came +to the conclusion that the only way of providing for Oliver effectually, +was to send him to sea without delay.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Bumble had been despatched to make various preliminary +inquiries, with the view of finding out some captain or other +who wanted a cabin-boy without any friends; and was returning +to the workhouse to communicate the result of his mission, when +he encountered just at the gate no less a person than Mr. Sowerberry, +the parochial undertaker.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Sowerberry was a tall, gaunt, large-jointed man, attired +in a suit of threadbare black, with darned cotton stockings of the +same colour, and shoes to answer. His features were not naturally +intended to wear a smiling aspect, but he was in general +rather given to professional jocosity; his step was elastic, and his +face betokened inward pleasantry as he advanced to Mr. Bumble +and shook him cordially by the hand.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I have taken the measure of the two women that died last +night, Mr. Bumble,' said the undertaker.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry,' said the beadle, +as he thrust his thumb and forefinger into the proffered snuff-box +of the undertaker, which was an ingenious little model of a patent +coffin. 'I say you'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry,' repeated +Mr. Bumble, tapping the undertaker on the shoulder in a +friendly manner with his cane.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Think so?' said the undertaker in a tone which half admitted +and half disputed the probability of the event. 'The prices allowed +by the board are very small, Mr. Bumble.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'So are the coffins,' replied the beadle, with precisely as near +an approach to a laugh as a great official ought to indulge in.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Sowerberry was much tickled at this, as of course he +ought to be, and laughed a long time without cessation. 'Well, +well, Mr. Bumble,' he said at length, 'there's no denying that, +since the new system of feeding has come in, the coffins are something +narrower and more shallow than they used to be; but we +must have some profit, Mr. Bumble. Well-seasoned timber is an +expensive article, sir; and all the iron handles come by canal +from Birmingham.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well, well,' said Mr. Bumble, 'every trade has its drawbacks, +and a fair profit is of course allowable.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Of course, of course,' replied the undertaker; 'and if I don't +get a profit upon this or that particular article, why I make it up +in the long run, you see—he! he! he!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Just so,' said Mr. Bumble.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Though I must say,'—continued the undertaker, resuming +the current of observations which the beadle had interrupted,—'though +I must say, Mr. Bumble, that I have to contend against +one very great disadvantage, which is, that all the stout people +go off the quickest—I mean that the people who have been better +off, and have paid rates for many years, are the first to sink when +they come into the house; and let me tell you, Mr. Bumble, that +three or four inches over one's calculation makes a great hole in +one's profits, especially when one has a family to provide for, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"As Mr. Sowerberry said this, with the becoming indignation +of an ill-used man, and as Mr. Bumble felt that it rather tended +to convey a reflection on the honour of the parish, the latter gentleman +thought it advisable to change the subject; and Oliver +Twist being uppermost in his mind, he made him his theme.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'By-the-by,' said Mr. Bumble, 'you don't know anybody who +wants a boy, do you—a parochial 'prentis, who is at present a +dead-weight—a millstone, as I may say—round the parochial +throat? Liberal terms, Mr. Sowerberry—liberal terms;' and, as +Mr. Bumble spoke, he raised his cane to the bill above him and +gave three distinct raps upon the words 'five pounds,' which were +printed therein in Roman capitals of gigantic size.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Gadso!' said the undertaker, taking Mr. Bumble by the +gilt-edged lappel of his official coat; 'that's just the very thing I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +wanted to speak to you about. You know—dear me, what a very +elegant button this is, Mr. Bumble; I never noticed it before.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, I think it is rather pretty,' said the beadle, glancing +proudly downward at the large brass buttons which embellished +his coat. 'The die is the same as the parochial seal—the Good +Samaritan healing the sick and bruised man. The board presented +it to me on New-year's morning, Mr. Sowerberry. I put +it on, I remember, for the first time to attend the inquest on that +reduced tradesman who died in a doorway at midnight.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"' I recollect,' said the undertaker. 'The jury brought in—Died +from exposure to the cold, and want of the common necessaries +of life—didn't they?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Bumble nodded.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And they made it a special verdict, I think,' said the undertaker, +'by adding some words to the effect, that if the relieving +officer had'——</p> + +<p class="i1">'Tush—foolery!' interposed the beadle, angrily. 'If the +board attended to all the nonsense that ignorant jurymen talk, +they'd have enough to do.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Very true,' said the undertaker; 'they would indeed.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Juries,' said Mr. Bumble, grasping his cane tightly, as was +his wont when working into a passion—'juries is ineddicated, +vulgar, grovelling wretches.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'So they are,' said the undertaker.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'They haven't no more philosophy or political economy about +'em than that,' said the beadle, snapping his fingers contemptuously.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No more they have,' acquiesced the undertaker.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I despise 'em,' said the beadle, growing very red in the face.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'So do I,' rejoined the undertaker.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And I only wish we'd a jury of the independent sort in the +house for a week or two,' said the beadle; 'the rules and regulations +of the board would soon bring their spirit down for them.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Let'em alone for that,' replied the undertaker. So saying, +he smiled approvingly to calm the rising wrath of the indignant +parish officer.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Bumble lifted off his cocked-hat, took a handkerchief +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +from the inside of the crown, wiped from his forehead the perspiration +which his rage had engendered, fixed the cocked hat on +again, and, turning to the undertaker, said in a calmer voice, +'Well, what about the boy?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Oh!' replied the undertaker; 'why, you know, Mr. Bumble, +I pay a good deal toward the poor's rates.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Hem!' said Mr. Bumble. 'Well?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well,' replied the undertaker, 'I was thinking that if I pay +so much toward 'em, I've a right to get as much out of 'em as I +can, Mr. Bumble; and so—and so—I think I'll take the boy +myself.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Bumble grasped the undertaker by the arm and led him +into the building. Mr. Sowerberry was closeted with the board +for five minutes, and then it was arranged that Oliver should go +to him that evening 'upon liking'—a phrase which means, in the +case of a parish apprentice, that if the master find, upon a short +trial, that he can get enough work out of a boy without putting +too much food in him, he shall have him for a term of years to +do what he likes with.</p> + +<p class="i1">"When little Oliver was taken before 'the gentlemen' that +evening, and informed that he was to go that night as general +house-lad to a coffin-maker's, and that if he complained of his +situation, or ever came back to the parish again, he would be sent +to sea, there to be drowned or knocked on the head, as the case +might be, he evinced so little emotion, that they by common consent +pronounced him a hardened young rascal, and ordered Mr. +Bumble to remove him forthwith."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Some years ago an investigation into the treatment +of the poor in St. Pancras workhouse was made. It +originated in the suicide of a girl, who, having left her +place, drowned herself rather than return to the workhouse +to be confined in the "shed"—a place of confinement +for refractory and ill-disposed paupers. The unanimous +verdict of the coroner's jury was to this effect, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +and had appended to it an opinion that the discipline +of the shed was unnecessarily severe. This verdict led +to an investigation.</p> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Howarth, senior churchwarden, a guardian, and +a barrister, explained that the shed was used for separating +able-bodied, idle, and dissolute paupers from the +aged and respectable inmates of the house. The shed +was not, he declared, a place of confinement any more +than the workhouse itself. The place in question consists +of two rooms, a day-room and a dormitory, on the +basement of the main building, two feet below the level +of the soil, each about thirty-five feet long by fifteen +wide and seven high. The bedroom contains ten beds, +occupied sometimes by sixteen, sometimes by twenty or +twenty-four paupers. According to the hospital calculation +of a cube of nine feet to an occupant, the dormitory +should accommodate six persons. The damp from +an adjoining cesspool oozes through the walls. This +pleasant apartment communicates with a yard forty feet +long, and from fifteen to twenty broad, with a flagged +pavement and high walls. This yard is kept always +locked. But it is not a place of confinement. Oh no! +it is a place of separation.</p> + +<p class="i1">Let us see the evidence of James Hill, who waits on +the occupants of the shed:—"They are locked up night +and day. They frequently escape over the walls. They +are put in for misconduct."</p> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Lee, the master of the workhouse, declares that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +if the persons in the shed make application to come out, +they are frequently released. He is "not aware if he +has any legal right to refuse them, but does sometimes +exercise that authority." One of the women is there +for throwing her clothes over the wall; another for +getting "overtaken in liquor" while out of the house, +and losing her pail and brush. A third inmate is a girl +of weak intellect, who went out for a day, was made +drunk and insensible by a male pauper, and suffered +dreadful maltreatment.</p> + +<p class="i1">All the pauper witnesses represent the shed as a place +of punishment. The six ounces of meat given three +times a week by the dietary, is reduced to four ounces +for the shed paupers. Still all this, in Mr. Howarth's +eyes, neither constitutes the shed a place of confinement +nor of punishment. It is a place of separation. So is +a prison. It is a prison in a prison; a lower depth in +the lowest deep of workhouse wretchedness and restraint.</p> + +<p class="i1">Are we to be told that this is "classification," (as +the report of the directors impudently calls it,) by which +the young and old, imbecile and drunken, sickly and +turbulent, are shut up together day and night picking +oakum; looking out through the heavy day on the bare +walls of their wretched yard—at night breathing their +own fœtid exhalations and the miasma of a cesspool, +twenty-four of them sometimes in a space only fit to +accommodate six with due regard to health and decency? +And all this at the arbitrary will of master or matron, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +unchecked by the board! One poor creature had been +there for three years. She had not come out because +"she was in such bad health, and had nowhere to go." +Yet she was shut up, because she was considered able +bodied and fit for work, when her appearance belied it, +and spoke her broken spirit and shattered constitution.</p> + +<p class="i1">Mr. W. Lee, guardian, seemed blessed with an unusual +amount of ignorance as to his legal powers and responsibilities. +He kept no account of persons confined in +the black-hole, for forty-eight hours sometimes, and +without directions from the board. He thought the +matron had power to put paupers in the strong room. +On one point he was certain: he "had no doubt that +persons have been confined without his orders." He +"had no doubt that he had received instructions from +the board about the refractory ward, but he does not +know where to find them." "If any paupers committed +to the ward feel aggrieved, they can apply to be released, +and he had no doubt he would release them." He made +no weekly report of punishments. He reigned supreme, +monarch of all he surveyed, wielding the terrors of shed +and black-hole unquestioned and unchecked.</p> + +<p class="i1">In Miss Stone, the matron, he had a worthy coadjutrix. +The lady felt herself very much "degraded" by +the coroner's jury. They asked her some most inconvenient +questions, to which she gave awkwardly ready +answers. She confined to the shed a girl who returned +from place, though she admitted the work of the place +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +was too much for her. She confessed she might have +punished Jones (the suicide) by putting her in the black-hole; +but it was a mere trifle—"only a few hours" in +an underground cell, "perhaps from morning till night, +for refusing to do some domestic service." Jones was +helpless; her mistress brought her back to the workhouse. +Jones cried, and begged to be taken back to +service, offering to work for nothing. Her recollections +of the workhouse do not seem to have been pleasant. +Hard work, unpaid; suicide; any thing rather than the +shed.</p> + +<p class="i1">A precious testimony to the St. Pancras system of +"classification!" These paupers in the shed are clearly +a refractory set. "They complain of being shut up +so long." "They say they would like more bread and +more meat." Audacious as Oliver Twist! They even +complain of the damp and bad smell. Ungrateful, dainty +wretches! On the whole, as Mr. Howarth says, it is +evidently "unjust to suppose that the system of separation +adopted in the house is regarded as a mode of punishment." +The directors issued a solemn summons to +the members of the parochial medical board. District +surgeons and consulting surgeons assembled, inspected +the shed, and pronounced it a very pleasant place if the +roof were higher, and if the ventilation were better, and +if the damp were removed, and if fewer slept in a bed, +and six instead of twenty-four in the room. They then +examined the dietary, and pronounced it sufficient if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +the allowances were of full weight, if the meat were of +the best quality, if there were plenty of milk in the +porridge, and if the broth were better. Great virtue +in an "if!" Unhappily, in the present case, the allowances +were not full weight; the meat not of the best +quality; there is not milk enough in the porridge; and +the broth might be very much better, and yet not good.</p> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Cooper, the parish surgeon, was a special object +of antipathy to the worthy and humane Howarth; he +was one of those ridiculously particular men, unfit to +deal with paupers. He actually objected to the pauper +women performing their ablutions in the urinals, and +felt aggrieved when the master told him to "mind his +shop," and Howarth stood by without rebuking the +autocrat! Mr. Cooper, too, admits that the dietary +would be sufficient with all the above-mentioned "ifs." +But he finds that the milk porridge contains one quart +of milk to six of oat-meal; that the meat is half fat, and +often uneatable from imperfect cooking; and that the +frequent stoppages of diet are destructive of the health +of the younger inmates. His remonstrances, however, +have been received in a style that has read him a lesson, +and he ceases to remonstrate accordingly, and the guardians +have it as they would—a silent surgeon and an +omnipotent master.</p> + +<p class="i1">The saddest part of the farce, however, was that of +the last day's proceedings. The quality and quantity +of the diet had been discussed; the directors felt bound +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +to examine into both; so they proceeded to the house. +Of course the master knew nothing of the intended visit. +Who can suspect the possibility of such a thing after +the previous display of Howarth's impartiality and determination +to do justice? So to the house they went. +They took the excellent Lee quite by surprise, and enjoyed +parish pot-luck. Dr. Birmingham's description +makes one's mouth water:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"He came to the house on Saturday, in order to examine the +food; he found that, on that day, the inmates had what was called +ox-cheek soup; he tasted it, and he was so well satisfied with it +that he took all that was given to him. He then went into the +kitchen, and saw the master cutting up meat for the sick and +infirm. He tasted the mutton, and found it as succulent and as +good as that which he purchased for his own consumption."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The picture of this patriarchal and benevolent master +"cutting up meat for the sick and infirm," is perfectly +beautiful. Howarth, too, did his duty, and was equally +lucky.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Howarth stated that he had visited the house yesterday, +and had examined the food, with the quality of which he was +perfectly satisfied. He tasted the soup, and was so well pleased +with it that he obtained an allowance. (A laugh.)"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">But not satisfied with this, that Rhadamanthus of a +Birmingham proposed a crucial test.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"He begged to move that the master of the workhouse be desired +to bring before the board the ordinary rations allowed the +paupers for breakfast, dinner, and supper; and that any gentleman +present be allowed to call and examine any of the paupers +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +as to whether the food they usually received was of the same +quality, and in the same quantity."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The rations were produced; "and, lo! the porridge +smoked upon the board." Thus it was, in tempting and +succulent array—the pauper bill of fare:—</p> + +<table class="narrow" id="BILL_OF_FARE" summary="Pauper Bill of Fare"> + <tr> + <td class="c1-1"></td> + <td class="c1-1"></td> + <td class="c1-1">Soup.</td> + <td class="c1-1"></td> + <td class="c1-1"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-1">Cheese.</td> + <td class="c1-1"></td> + <td class="c1-1">Pease porridge.</td> + <td class="c1-1"></td> + <td class="c1-1">Potatoes.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-1"></td> + <td class="c1-1">Meat.</td> + <td class="c1-1"></td> + <td class="c1-1">Beer.</td> + <td class="c1-1"></td> + </tr> + </table> + +<p class="i1">Nothing can be more tempting; who would not be a +pauper of St. Pancras? Six paupers are called in, and +one and all testify that the rations of meat, potatoes, +soup, and porridge are better in quality and greater in +quantity than the workhouse allowance. There is a +slight pause. Birmingham looks blank at Howarth, and +Howarth gazes uneasily on Birmingham; but it is only +for a minute: ready wits jump:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"<i>Dr. Birmingham.</i> This is the allowance for Sunday.</p> + +<p class="i1">"<i>Mr. Marley.</i> I understand there is no difference between the +allowance on Sunday and on any other day.</p> + +<p class="i1">"<i>Mr. Howarth.</i> They have better meat on Sundays."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">What follows this glaring exposure? Impeachment +of the master, on this clear proof of malversation in the +house and dishonesty before the board? So expects +Mr. Halton, and very naturally suggests that Mr. Lee +be called on for an explanation. Mr. Lee is not called +on, and no explanation takes place. The room is cleared, +and, after an hour and a half's discussion, a report is +unanimously agreed to. Our readers may anticipate its +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +tenour. It finds that there is no place deserving to be +called the shed; that the rooms so called are very admirable +places of "separation" for refractory paupers; +that the diet is excellent; that every thing is as it ought +to be. It recommends that reports of punishments be +more regularly made to the board, that classification of +old and young be improved, and that some little change +be made in the ventilation of the refractory wards!</p> + +<p class="i1">And so concludes this sad farce of the St. Pancras +investigation. One more disgraceful to the guardians +cannot be found even in the pregnant annals of workhouse +mismanagement.<a name="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">"Farming out" paupers, especially children, is one +of the most prolific sources of misery among the +English poor who are compelled to appeal to the +parish authorities. This practice consists of entering +into contracts with individuals to supply the paupers +with food, clothing, and lodging. The man who offers +to perform the work for the smallest sum commonly +gets the contract, and then the poor wretches who look +to him for the necessaries of life must submit to all +kinds of treatment, and be stinted in every thing. +During the last visit of that scourge, the cholera, to +England, a large number of farmed pauper children +were crowded, by one Mr. Drouet, a contractor, into a +close and filthy building, where they nearly all perished. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +An investigation was subsequently held, but influential +persons screened the authors of this tragedy from +justice. During the investigation, it was clearly shown +that the children confided to the care of Mr. Drouet +were kept in a state of filth and semi-starvation.</p> + +<p class="i1">So much for the boasted charity of the dominant +class in Great Britain! By its enormous drain upon +the public purse, and its vast monopoly of that soil +which was given for the use of all, it creates millions +of paupers—wretches without homes, without resources, +and almost without hope; and then, to prevent themselves +from being hurled from their high and luxurious +places, and from being devoured as by ravenous wolves, +they take the miserable paupers in hand, separate +families, shut them up, as in the worst of prisons, and +give them something to keep life in their bodies. +Then the lords and ladies ask the world to admire their +charitable efforts. What they call charity is the offspring +of fear!</p> + +<p class="i1">A member of the humbler classes in England no +sooner begins to exist, than the probability of his becoming +a pauper is contemplated by the laws. A writer +in Chambers's Journal says, in regard to this point—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Chargeability is the English slave system. The poor man +cannot go where he lists in search of employment—he may become +chargeable. He cannot take a good place which may be +offered to him, for he cannot get a residence, lest he become +chargeable. Houses are pulled down over the ears of honest +working-men, and decent poor people are driven from Dan to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +Beersheba, lest they become chargeable. There is something infinitely +distressing in the whole basis of this idea—that an English +peasant must needs be regarded from his first breath, and all +through life, as a possible pauper. But the positive hardships +arising from the idea are what we have at present to deal with.</p> + +<p class="i1">"These are delineated in a happy collection of facts lately +brought forward by Mr. Chadwick at a meeting of the Farmers' +Club in London. It appears that the company assembled, who, +from their circumstances, were all qualified to judge of the truth +of the facts and the soundness of the conclusions, gave a general +assent to what was said by the learned poor-law secretary. Unfortunately, +we can only give a few passages from this very remarkable +speech.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Chadwick first referred to the operation of the existing +law upon <i>unsettled</i> labouring men. 'The lower districts of Reading +were severely visited with fever during the last year, which +called attention to the sanitary condition of the labouring population. +I was requested to visit it. While making inquiries +upon the subject, I learned that some of the worst-conditioned +places were occupied by agricultural labourers. Many of them, +it appeared, walked four, six, seven, and even eight miles, in wet +and snow, to and from their places of work, after twelve hours' +work on the farm. Why, however, were agricultural labourers +in these fever-nests of a town? I was informed, in answer, that +they were driven in there by the pulling down of cottages, to +avoid parochial settlements and contributions to their maintenance +in the event of destitution. Among a group, taken as an +example there, in a wretched place consisting of three rooms, ten +feet long, lived Stephen Turner, a wife, and three children. He +walked to and from his place of work about seven miles daily, +expending two hours and a half in walking before he got to his +productive work on the farm. His wages are 10<i>s.</i> a week, out +of which he pays 2<i>s.</i> for his wretched tenement. If he were resident +on the farm, the two and a half hours of daily labour spent +in walking might be expended in productive work; his labour +would be worth, according to his own account, and I believe to a +farmer's acknowledgment, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> per week more. For a rent of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +£5 5<i>s.</i>, such as he now pays, he would be entitled to a good cottage +with a garden; and his wife and children being near, would +be available for the farm labour. So far as I could learn there +are between one hundred and two hundred agricultural labourers +living in the borough of Reading, and the numbers are increasing. +The last week brought to my notice a fact illustrative of +the present unjust state of things, so far as regards the labourer. +A man belonging to Maple-Durham lived in Reading; walked +about four miles a day to his work, the same back, frequently +getting wet; took fever, and continued ill some time, assisted by +the Reading Union in his illness; recovered, and could have returned +to his former employment of 10<i>s.</i> per week, but found he +was incapable of walking the distance; the consequence was, he +took work that only enabled him to earn 5<i>s.</i> per week; he is now +again unable to work. Even in Lincolnshire, where the agriculture +is of a high order, and the wages of the labourer consequently +not of the lowest, similar displacements have been made, +to the prejudice of the farmer as well as the labourer, and, as will +be seen, of the owner himself. Near Gainsborough, Lincoln, and +Louth, the labourers walk even longer distances than near Reading. +I am informed of instances where they walk as far as six +miles; that is, twelve miles daily, or seventy-two miles weekly, +to and from their places of work. Let us consider the bare +economy, the mere waste of labour, and what a state of agricultural +management is indicated by the fact that such a waste can +have taken place. Fifteen miles a day is the regular march of +infantry soldiers, with two rest-days—one on Monday, and one +on Thursday; twenty-four miles is a forced march. The man +who expends eight miles per diem, or forty-eight miles per week, +expends to the value of at least two days' hard labour per week, +or one hundred in the year, uselessly, that might be expended +usefully and remuneratively in production. How different is it +in manufactories, and in some of the mines, or at least in the +best-managed and most successful of them! In some mines as +much as £2000 and £3000 is paid for new machinery to benefit +the labourers, and save them the labour of ascending and descending +by ladders. In many manufactories they have hoists to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +raise them and their loads from lower to upper rooms, to save +them the labour of toiling up stairs, to economize their strength +for piece-work to mutual advantage. It is not in county and +borough towns only that this unwholesome over-crowding is going +on. I am informed that from the like cause the evil of over-crowding +is going on in the ill-conditioned villages of open parishes. +It is admitted, and made manifest in extensive evidence given before +a committee of the house of lords by practical farmers, that +when an agricultural labourer applies for work, the first question +put to him is, not what has been his experience, what can he do, +but to what parish does he belong. If he do not belong to the +parish of the occupier, the reply is usually an expression of regret +that he can only employ the labourer of his own parish. To +the extent to which the farmer is directly liable to the payment +of rates, by the displacement of a settled parish labourer, he is +liable to a penalty for the employment of any other labourer who +is not of the parish. To the same extent is he liable to a penalty +if he do not employ a parish labourer who is worthless, though +a superior labourer may be got by going farther a-field, to whom +he would give better wages. This labourer who would go farther +is thus driven back upon his parish; that is to say, imposed, and +at the same time made dependent, upon the two or three or several +farmers, by whom the parish is occupied. He then says, 'If +this or that farmer will not employ me, one of them must; if +none of them will, the parish must keep me, and the parish pay +is as good as any.' Labour well or ill, he will commonly get +little more, and it is a matter of indifference to him: it is found +to be, in all its essential conditions, labour without hope—slave +labour; and he is rendered unworthy of his hire. On the other +hand, in what condition does the law place the employer? It +imposes upon him the whole mass of labourers of a narrow district, +of whatsoever sort, without reference to his wants or his +capital. He says, 'I do not want the men at this time, or these +men are not suitable to me; they will not do the work I want; +but if I must have them, or pay for keeping them in idleness if I +do not employ them, why, then, I can only give them such wages +as their labour is worth to me, and that is little.' Hence wages +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +are inevitably reduced. What must be the effect upon the manufacturer +if he were placed in the same position as tenant farmers +are in the smaller parishes in the southern counties, if he were +restricted to the employment only of the labourers in the parish?—if, +before he engaged a smith, a carpenter, or a mason, he were +compelled to inquire, 'To what parish do you belong?' Why, +that the 24<i>s.</i> a week labour would fall to 12<i>s.</i> or 10<i>s.</i>, or the price +of agricultural labour. Agriculturists from northern districts, +who work their farms with 12<i>s.</i> and 15<i>s.</i> a week free labour, have +declined the temptation of low rents, to take farms in parishes +where the wages are 7<i>s.</i> or 8<i>s.</i> a week. While inspecting a farm +in one of these pauperized districts, an able agriculturist could not +help noticing the slow, drawling motions of one of the labourers +there, and said, 'My man, you do not sweat at that work,' 'Why, +no, master,' was the reply; 'seven shillings a week isn't sweating +wages,' The evidence I have cited indicates the circumstances +which prevent the adoption of piece-work, and which, +moreover, restrict the introduction of machinery into agricultural +operations, which, strange though it may appear to many, is +greatly to the injury of the working classes; for wherever agricultural +labour is free, and machinery has been introduced, there +more and higher-paid labour is required, and labourers are +enabled to go on and earn good wages by work with machines +long after their strength has failed them for working by hand. +In free districts, and with high cultivation by free and skilled +labour, I can adduce instances of skilled agricultural labourers +paid as highly as artisans. I could adduce an instance, bordering +upon Essex, where the owner, working it with common parish +labour at 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, a day, could not make it pay; and an able +farmer now works it with free labour, at 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, 3<i>s.</i>, and +3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, and even more, per day, for task-work, and, there is +reason to believe, makes it pay well. A farmer, who died +not long ago immensely wealthy, was wont to say that 'he +could not live upon poor 2<i>s.</i> a day labour; he could not make his +money upon less than half-crowners.' The freedom of labour, +not only in the northern counties, but in some places near the +slave-labour districts of the southern counties, is already attended +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +with higher wages—at the rate of 12<i>s.</i>, 14<i>s.</i>, and 15<i>s.</i> weekly. +In such counties as Berks and Bedford, the freedom of the labour +market, when it came into full operation, could not raise wages +less than 2<i>s.</i> a week; and 2<i>s.</i> a week would, in those counties, +represent a sum of productive expenditure and increased produce +equal to the whole amount of unproductive expenditure on the +poor-rates.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">By this arrangement of parochial settlement, the +English agricultural labourer has a compulsory residence, +like that of the American slave upon the plantation +where he is born. This, therefore, is one of the +most striking manifestations of the peasant being a +serf. A free and beautiful system is that of the +English Unions!</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">IMPRESSMENT, OR KIDNAPPING WHITE MEN FOR SLAVES +IN THE NAVAL SERVICE.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">One</span> of the most repulsive features of the general +system of slavery in Great Britain, is called impressment. +It is the forcible removal of seamen from their +ordinary employment, and compelling them to serve, +against their will, in the ships of war. Long ago, +some of the maritime nations condemned men to the +galleys for crime. But Great Britain dooms peaceable +and unoffending men to her vessels of war, severs all +the ties of home and kindred, and outrages every principle +of justice, in this practice of impressment. The +husband is torn from his wife, the father from his children, +the brother from the sister, by the press-gangs—the +slave-hunters of Britain.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_257.jpg" id="i_257.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_257.jpg" + alt="" /> + <div class="caption">KIDNAPPING OF WILLIE MORRISON.</div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">This practice is not expressly sanctioned by any act +of Parliament, but it is so, indirectly, by the numerous +statutes that have been passed granting exemptions +from it. According to Lord Mansfield, it is "a power +founded upon immemorial usage," and is understood to +make a part of the common law. All <i>seafaring</i> men +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +are liable to impressment, unless specially protected by +custom or statute. Seamen executing particular services +for government, not unfrequently get protections +from the Admiralty, Navy Board, &c. Some are exempted +by local custom; and <i>ferrymen</i> are everywhere +privileged from impressment. The statutory exemptions +are as follows:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">I. <i>Every ship in the coal-trade</i> has the following persons protected, +viz. two able seamen (such as the master shall nominate) +for every ship of one hundred tons, and one for every fifty tons +for every ship of one hundred tons and upward; and every officer +who presumes to impress any of the above, shall forfeit, to the +master or owner of such vessel, £10 for every man so impressed; +and such officers shall be incapable of holding any place, office, +or employment in any of his majesty's ships of war.—6 and 7 +Will. 3, c. 18, § 19.<a name="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">II. <i>No parish apprentice</i> shall be compelled or permitted to enter +into his majesty's sea-service, until he arrives at the age of +eighteen years.—2 and 3 Anne, c. 6, § 4.</p> + +<p class="i1">III. Persons voluntarily binding themselves apprentices to sea-service, +shall not be impressed for three years from the date of +their indentures. [This is a protection for the master—not for +the parish apprentice.] But no persons above eighteen years of +age shall have any exemption or protection from his majesty's +service, if they have been at sea before they became apprentices.—2 +and 3 Anne, c. 6, § 15; 4 Anne, c. 19, § 17; and 13 Geo. 2, +c. 17, § 2.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">IV. <i>Apprentices.</i>—The act 4 Geo. 4, c. 25, enacts some new +regulations with respect to the number of apprentices that ships +must have on board, according to their tonnage, and grants protection +to such apprentices till they have attained the age of +twenty-one years.</p> + +<p class="i1">V. <i>Persons employed in the fisheries.</i>—The act 50 Geo. 3, c. 108, +grants the following exemptions from impressment, viz.:</p> + +<p class="i1">1. <i>Masters of fishing vessels or boats</i>, who, either themselves or +their owners, have, or within six months before applying for a +protection shall have had, one apprentice or more, under sixteen +years of age, bound for five years, and employed in the business +of fishing.</p> + +<p class="i1">2. All such apprentices, not exceeding <i>eight</i> to every master or +owner of any fishing vessel of fifty tons or upward; not exceeding +<i>seven</i> to every vessel or boat of thirty-five tons, and under +fifty; not exceeding <i>six</i> to every vessel of thirty tons, or under +thirty-five; and not exceeding <i>four</i> to every boat under thirty +tons burden, during the time of their apprenticeship, and till the +age of twenty years; they continuing, for the time, in the business +of fishing only.</p> + +<p class="i1">3. <i>One mariner</i>, besides the master and apprentices, to every +fishing vessel of one hundred tons or upward, employed on the +sea-coast, during his continuance in such service.</p> + +<p class="i1">4. <i>Any landsman</i>, above the age of eighteen, entering and employed +on board such vessel for two years from his first going to +sea and to the end of the voyage then engaged in, if he so long +continue in such service. [The ignorance of a landsman seems +to be the only reason for this exemption.]</p> + +<p class="i1">An affidavit sworn before a justice of the peace, containing the +tonnage of such fishing vessel or boat, the port or place to which +she belongs, the name and description of the master, the age of +every apprentice, the term for which he is bound and the date of +his indenture, and the name, age, and description of every such +mariner and landsman respectively, and the time of such landsman's +first going to sea, is to be transmitted to the Admiralty; +who, upon finding the facts correctly stated, grant a separate protection +to every individual. In case, however, "<i>of an actual invasion +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +of these kingdoms, or imminent danger thereof</i>," such protected +persons may be impressed; but except upon such an emergency, +any officer or officers impressing such protected person, +shall respectively forfeit £20 to the party impressed, if not an +apprentice, or to his master if he be an apprentice.—§§ 2, 3, 4 +[The phrase, "imminent danger of invasion," is susceptible of +a wide interpretation for the purposes of tyranny.]</p> + +<p class="i1">VI. <i>General exemptions.</i>—All persons fifty-five years of age and +upward, and under eighteen years. Every person being a +foreigner, who shall serve in any merchant ship, or other trading +vessels or privateers, belonging to a subject of the crown of +Great Britain; and all persons, of what age soever, who shall use +the sea, shall be protected for two years, to be computed from the +time of their first using it.—13 Geo. 2, c. 17. [The impressment +of American seamen, before the war of 1812, shows how easily +these exemptions may be disregarded.]</p> + +<p class="i1">VII. <i>Harpooners</i>, line-managers, or boat-steerers, engaged in +the Southern whale fishery, are also protected.—26 Geo. 3, +c. 50.</p> + +<p class="i1">VIII. <i>Mariners employed in the herring fisheries</i> are exempted +while actually employed.—48 Geo. 3, c. 110.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The practice of impressment," says McCulloch, "so subversive +of every principle of justice, is vindicated on the alleged +ground of its being absolutely necessary to the manning of the +fleet. But this position, notwithstanding the confidence with +which it has been taken up, is not quite so tenable as has been +supposed. The difficulties experienced in procuring sailors for +the fleet at the breaking out of a war are not natural, but artificial, +and might be got rid of by a very simple arrangement. During +peace, not more than a fourth or fifth part of the seamen are retained +in his majesty's service that are commonly required during +war; and, if peace continue for a few years, the total number of +sailors in the king's and the merchant service is limited to that +which is merely adequate to supply the reduced demand of the +former and the ordinary demand of the latter. When, therefore, +war is declared, and 30,000 or 40,000 additional seamen are wanted +for the fleet, they cannot be obtained, unless by withdrawing them +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +from the merchant service, which has not more than its complement +of hands. But to do this by offering the seamen higher +wages would be next to impossible, and would, supposing it were +practicable, impose such a sacrifice upon the public as could +hardly be borne. And hence, it is said, the necessity of impressment, +a practice which every one admits can be justified on no +other ground than that of its being absolutely essential to the +public safety. It is plain, however, that a necessity of this kind +may be easily obviated. All, in fact, that is necessary for this +purpose, is merely to keep such a number of sailors in his majesty's +service during peace, as may suffice, with the ordinary +proportion of landsmen and boys, to man the fleet at the breaking +out of a war. Were this done, there would not be the shadow of +a pretence for resorting to impressment; and the practice, with +the cruelty and injustice inseparable from it, might be entirely +abolished.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But it is said that, though desirable in many respects, the +<i>expense</i> of such a plan will always prevent its being adopted. It +admits, however, of demonstration, that instead of being dearer, +this plan would be actually cheaper than that which is now followed. +Not more than 1,000,000<i>l.</i> or 1,200,000<i>l.</i> a year would be +required to be added to the navy estimates, and that would not be +a real, but merely a nominal advance. The violence and injustice +to which the practice of impressment exposes sailors operates at +all times to raise their wages, by creating a disinclination on the +part of many young men to enter the sea-service; and this disinclination +is vastly increased during war, when wages usually rise +to four or five times their previous amount, imposing a burden on +the commerce of the country, exclusive of other equally mischievous +consequences, many times greater than the tax that would be +required to keep up the peace establishment of the navy to its +proper level. It is really, therefore, a vulgar error to suppose +that impressment has the recommendation of cheapness in its +favour; and, though it had, no reasonable man will contend that +that is the only, or even the principal, circumstance to be attended +to. In point of fact, however, it is as costly as it is oppressive +and unjust."</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">These remarks are creditable to the good sense and +humanity of McCulloch; but are too much devoted to +the <i>expediency</i> of outrage. To speak more clearly, the +discussion is conducted in too cool-blooded a style. We +defy any man of ordinary sensibility to read the accounts +of scenes attending many cases of impressment, +without feeling the deepest pity for the enslaved seaman +and his bereaved relatives and friends, and burning +with indignation at the heartless tyranny displayed by +the government. After a long and laborious voyage in +a merchant vessel, the sun-burned seamen arrives in +sight of home. His wife and children, who have long +bewailed his absence and feared for his fate, stand, +with joyous countenances, upon the shore, eager to +embrace the returned wanderer. Perhaps a government +vessel, on the search for seaman, then sends its +barbarous press-gang aboard the merchantman, and +forces the husband and father once more from the presence +of the beloved ones. Or, he is permitted to land. +He visits his home, and is just comfortably settled, resolved +to pass the rest of his days with his family, when +the gang tears him from their arms—and years—long, +dragging years will pass away before he will be allowed +to return. Then, the wife may be dead, the children at +the mercy of the parish. This is English freedom! A +gang of manacled negroes shocks humanity, and calls +down the vengeance of heaven upon the head of the +slave-driver; but a press-gang may perform its heart-rending +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +work in perfect consistency with the free and +glorious institutions of Britain.</p> + +<p class="i1">By far the most thrilling narrative of the scenes +attending impressments, with which we are acquainted, +is to be found in the romance of "Katie Stewart," published +in Blackwood's Magazine, without the author's +name. We quote:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The next day was the Sabbath, and Willie Morison, with his +old mother leaning on his arm, reverently deposited his silver half-crown +in the plate at the door of West Anster Church, an offering +of thankfulness, for the parish poor. There had been various +returns during the previous week; a brig from the Levant, and +another from Riga—where, with its cargo of hemp, it had been +frozen in all the winter—had brought home each their proportion +of welcome family fathers, and young sailor men, like Willie Morison +himself, to glad the eyes of friends and kindred. One of +these was the son of that venerable elder in the lateran, who rose +to read the little notes which the thanksgivers had handed to him +at the door; and Katie Stewart's eyes filled as the old man's slow +voice, somewhat moved by reading his son's name just before, +intimated to the waiting congregation before him, and to the +minister in the pulpit behind, also waiting to include all these in +his concluding prayer, that William Morison gave thanks for his +safe return.</p> + +<p class="i1">"And then there came friendly greetings as the congregation +streamed out through the churchyard, and the soft, hopeful sunshine +of spring threw down a bright flickering network of light +and shade through the soft foliage on the causewayed street;—peaceful +people going to secure and quiet homes—families joyfully +encircling the fathers or brothers for whose return they had +just rendered thanks out of full hearts, and peace upon all and +over all, as broad as the skies and as calm.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But as the stream of people pours again in the afternoon from +the two neighbour churches, what is this gradual excitement which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +manifests itself among them? Hark! there is the boom of a gun +plunging into all the echoes; and crowds of mothers and sisters +cling about these young sailors, and almost struggle with them, +to hurry them home. Who is that hastening to the pier, with his +staff clenched in his hand, and his white 'haffit locks' streaming +behind him? It is the reverend elder who to-day returned thanks +for his restored son. The sight of him—the sound of that second-gun +pealing from the Firth puts the climax on the excitement of +the people, and now, in a continuous stream from the peaceful +churchyard gates, they flow toward the pier and the sea.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Eagerly running along by the edge of the rocks, at a pace +which, on another Sabbath, she would have thought a desecration +of the day, clinging to Willie Morison's arm, and with an anxious +heart, feeling her presence a kind of protection to him, Katie +Stewart hastens to the Billy Ness. The gray pier of Anster is +lined with anxious faces, and here and there a levelled telescope +under the care of some old shipmaster attracts round it a still +deeper, still more eager knot of spectators. The tide is out, and +venturous lads are stealing along the sharp low ranges of rock, +slipping now and then with incautious steps into the little clear +pools of sea-water which surround them; for their eyes are not on +their own uncertain footing, but fixed, like the rest, on that visible +danger up the Firth, in which all feel themselves concerned.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Already there are spectators, and another telescope on the +Billy Ness, and the whole range of 'the braes' between Anstruther +and Pittenweem is dotted with anxious lookers-on; and the +far away pier of Pittenweem, too, is dark with its little crowd.</p> + +<p class="i1">"What is the cause! Not far from the shore, just where that +headland, which hides you from the deep indentation of Largo +Bay, juts out upon the Firth, lies a little vessel, looking like a +diminutive Arabian horse, or one of the aristocratic young slight +lads who are its officers, with high blood, training, and courage in +every tight line of its cordage and taper stretch of its masts. +Before it, arrested in its way, lies a helpless merchant brig, softly +swaying on the bright mid-waters of the Firth, with the cutter's +boat rapidly approaching its side.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Another moment and it is boarded; a very short interval of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +silence, and again the officer—you can distinguish him with that +telescope, by his cocked hat, and the flash which the scabbard of +his sword throws on the water as he descends the vessel's side—has +re-entered the cutter's boat. Heavily the boat moves through +the water now, crowded with pressed men—poor writhing hearts, +whose hopes of home-coming and peace have been blighted in a +moment; captured, some of them, in sight of their homes, and +under the anxious, straining eyes of wives and children, happily +too far off to discern their full calamity.</p> + +<p class="i1">"A low moan comes from the lips of that poor woman, who, +wringing her hands and rocking herself to and fro, with the unconscious +movement of extreme pain, looks pitifully in Willie +Morison's face, as he fixes the telescope on the scene. She is +reading the changes of its expression, as if her sentence was +there; but he says nothing, though the very motion of his hand, +as he steadies the glass, attracts, like something of occult significance, +the agonized gaze which dwells upon him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Captain, captain!' she cried at last, softly pulling his coat, +and with unconscious art using the new title: 'Captain, is't the +Traveller? Can ye make her out? She has a white figure-head +at her bows, and twa white lines round her side. Captain, captain! +tell me for pity's sake!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Another long keen look was bent on the brig, as slowly and +disconsolately she resumed her onward way.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No, Peggie,' said the young sailor, looking round to meet her +eye, and to comfort his companion, who stood trembling by his +side: 'No, Peggie—make yourself easy; it's no the Traveller.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The poor woman seated herself on the grass, and, supporting +her head on her hands, wiped from her pale cheek tears of relief +and thankfulness.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'God be thanked! and oh! God pity thae puir creatures, and +their wives, and their little anes. I think I have the hardest +heart in a' the world, that can be glad when there's such misery +in sight.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"But dry your tears, poor Peggie Rodger—brace up your +trembling heart again for another fiery trial; for here comes +another white sail peacefully gliding up the Firth, with a flag +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +fluttering from the stern, and a white figure-head dashing aside +the spray, which seems to embrace it joyfully, the sailors think, +as out of the stormy seas it nears the welcome home. With a +light step the captain walks the little quarter-deck—with light +hearts the seamen lounge amidship, looking forth on the green +hills of Fife. Dark grows the young sailor's face, as he watches +the unsuspicious victim glide triumphantly up through the blue +water into the undreaded snare; and a glance round, a slight +contraction of those lines in his face which Katie Stewart, eagerly +watching him, has never seen so strongly marked before, tells the +poor wife on the grass enough to make her rise hysterically strong, +and with her whole might gaze at the advancing ship; for, alas! +one can doubt its identity no longer. The white lines on its side—the +white figure-head among the joyous spray—and the Traveller +dashes on, out of its icy prison in the northern harbour—out of +its stormy ocean voyage—homeward bound!</p> + +<p class="i1">"Homeward bound! There is one yonder turning longing looks +to Anster's quiet harbour as the ship sails past; carefully putting +up in the coloured foreign baskets those little wooden toys which +amused his leisure during the long dark winter among the ice, +and thinking with involuntary smiles how his little ones will leap +for joy as he divides the store. Put them up, good seaman, gentle +father!—the little ones will be men and women before you look +on them again.</p> + +<p class="i1">"For already the echoes are startled, and the women here on +shore shiver and wring their hands as the cutter's gun rings out +its mandate to the passenger; and looking up the Firth you see +nothing but a floating globe of white smoke, slowly breaking into +long streamers, and almost entirely concealing the fine outline of +the little ship of war. The challenged brig at first is doubtful—the +alarmed captain does not understand the summons; but again +another flash, another report, another cloud of white smoke, and +the Traveller is brought to.</p> + +<p class="i1">"There are no tears on Peggie Rodger's haggard cheeks, but a +convulsive shudder passes over her now and then, as, with intense +strained eyes, she watches the cutter's boat as it crosses the Firth +toward the arrested brig.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'God! an' it were sunk like lead!' said a passionate voice +beside her, trembling with the desperate restraint of impotent +strength.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'God help us!—God help us!—curse na them,' said the poor +woman with an hysteric sob. 'Oh, captain, captain! gie <i>me</i> the +glass; if they pit him in the boat <i>I'll</i> ken Davie—if naebody else +would, I can—gie me the glass.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"He gave her the glass, and himself gladly turned away, +trembling with the same suppressed rage and indignation which +had dictated the other spectator's curse.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'If ane could but warn them wi' a word,' groaned Willie Morison, +grinding his teeth—'if ane could but lift a finger! but to see +them gang into the snare like innocents in the broad day—Katie, +it's enough to pit a man mad!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"But Katie's pitiful compassionate eyes were fixed on Peggie +Rodger—on her white hollow cheeks, and on the convulsive steadiness +with which she held the telescope in her hand.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'It's a fair wind into the Firth—there's another brig due. +Katie, I canna stand and see this mair!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"He drew her hand through his arm, and unconsciously grasping +it with a force which at another time would have made her +cry with pain, led her a little way back toward the town. But +the fascination of the scene was too great for him, painful as it +was, and far away on the horizon glimmered another sail.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Willie!' exclaimed Katie Stewart, 'gar some of the Sillardyke +men gang out wi' a boat—gar them row down by the coast, +and then strike out in the Firth, and warn the men.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"He grasped her hand again, not so violently. 'Bless you, +lassie! and wha should do your bidding but myself? but take +care of yourself, Katie Stewart. What care I for a' the brigs in +the world if any thing ails you? Gang hame, or'——</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I'll no stir a fit till you're safe back again. I'll never speak +to you mair if ye say anither word. Be canny—be canny—but +haste ye away.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Another moment, and Katie Stewart stands alone by Peggie +Rodger's side, watching the eager face which seems to grow old +and emaciated with this terrible vigil, as if these moments were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +years; while the ground flies under the hounding feet of Willie +Morison, and he answers the questions which are addressed to +him, as to his errand, only while he himself continues at full +speed to push eastward to Cellardyke.</p> + +<p class="i1">"And the indistinct words which he calls back to his comrades, +as he 'devours the way,' are enough to send racing after him an +eager train of coadjutors; and with his bonnet off, and his hands, +which tremble as with palsy, clasped convulsively together, the +white-haired elder leans upon the wall of the pier, and bids God +bless them, God speed them, with a broken voice, whose utterance +comes in gasps and sobs; for he has yet another son upon the sea.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Meanwhile the cutter's boat has returned from the Traveller +with its second load; and a kind bystander relieves the aching +arms of poor Peggie Rodger of the telescope, in which now she +has no further interest.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Gude kens, Gude kens,' said the poor woman slowly, as Katie +strove to comfort her. 'I didna see him in the boat; but ane +could see nothing but the wet oars flashing out of the water, and +blinding folks e'en. What am I to do? Miss Katie, what am I +to think? They maun have left some men in the ship to work +her. Oh! God grant they have ta'en the young men, and no heads +of families wi' bairns to toil for. But Davie's a buirdly man, just +like ane to take an officer's ee. Oh, the Lord help us! for I'm +just distraught, and kenna what to do.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"A faint cheer, instantly suppressed, rises from the point of +the pier and the shelving coast beyond; and yonder now it glides +along the shore, with wet oars gleaming out of the dazzling sunny +water, the boat of the forlorn hope. A small, picked, chosen company +bend to the oars, and Willie Morison is at the helm, warily +guiding the little vessel over the rocks, as they shelter themselves +in the shadow of the coast. On the horizon the coming sail flutters +nearer, nearer—and up the Firth yonder there is a stir in the +cutter as she prepares to leave her anchor and strike into the mid-waters +of the broad highway which she molests.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The sun is sinking lower in the grand western skies, and beginning +to cast long, cool, dewy shadows of every headland and +little promontory over the whole rocky coast; but still the Firth is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +burning with his slanting fervid rays, and Inchkeith far away +lies like a cloud upon the sea, and the May, near at hand, lifts its +white front to the sun—a Sabbath night as calm and full of rest +as ever natural Sabbath was—and the reverend elder yonder on +the pier uncovers his white head once more, and groans within +himself, amid his passionate prayers for these perilled men upon +the sea, over the desecrated Sabbath-day.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Nearer and nearer wears the sail, fluttering like the snowy +breast of some sea-bird in prophetic terror; and now far off the red +fishing-boat strikes boldly forth into the Firth with a signal-flag +at its prow.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In the cutter they perceive it now; and see how the anchor +swings up her shapely side, and the snowy sail curls over the +yards, as with a bound she darts forth from her lurking-place, +and flashing in the sunshine, like an eager hound leaps forth after +her prey.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The boat—the boat! With every gleam of its oars the hearts +throb that watch it on its way; with every bound it makes there +are prayers—prayers of the anguish which will take no discouragement—pressing +in at the gates of heaven; and the ebbing tide +bears it out, and the wind droops its wings, and falls becalmed +upon the coast, as if repenting it of the evil service it did to those +two hapless vessels which have fallen into the snare. Bravely on +as the sun grows lower—bravely out as the fluttering stranger +sail draws nearer and more near—and but one other strain will +bring them within hail.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But as all eyes follow these adventurers, another flash from +the cutter's side glares over the shining water; and as the smoke +rolls over the pursuing vessel, and the loud report again disturbs +all the hills, Katie's heart grows sick, and she scarcely dares look +to the east. But the ball has ploughed the water harmlessly, and +yonder is the boat of rescue—yonder is the ship within hail; and +some one stands up in the prow of the forlorn hope, and shouts +and waves his hand.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It is enough. 'There she goes—there she tacks!' cries exulting +the man with the telescope, 'and in half an hour she'll be +safe in St. Andrew's Bay.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"But she sails slowly back—and slowly sails the impatient +cutter, with little wind to swell her sails, and that little in her +face; while the fisherboat, again falling close inshore with a +relay of fresh men at the oars, has the advantage of them both.</p> + +<p class="i1">"And now there is a hot pursuit—the cutter's boat in full chase +after the forlorn hope; but as the sun disappears, and the long +shadows lengthen and creep along the creeks and bays of the +rocky coast so well known to the pursued, so ill to the pursuer, +the event of the race is soon decided; and clambering up the first +accessible landing-place they can gain, and leaving their boat on +the rocks behind them, the forlorn hope joyously make their way +home.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And it's a' Katie's notion and no a morsel of mine,' says the +proud Willie Morison. But alas for your stout heart, Willie!—alas +for the tremulous, startled bird which beats against the innocent +breast of little Katie Stewart, for no one knows what heavy +shadows shall vail the ending of this Sabbath-day.</p> + +<hr class="sect" /> + +<p class="i1">"The mild spring night has darkened, but it is still early, and +the moon is not yet up. The worship is over in John Stewart's +decent house, and all is still within, though the miller and his +wife still sit by the 'gathered' fire, and talk in half whispers about +the events of the day, and the prospects of 'the bairns.' It is +scarcely nine yet, but it is the reverent usage of the family to +shut out the world earlier than usual on the Sabbath; and Katie, +in consideration of her fatigue, has been dismissed to her little +chamber in the roof. She has gone away not unwillingly, for, +just before, the miller had closed the door on the slow, reluctant, +departing steps of Willie Morison, and Katie is fain to be alone.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Very small is this chamber in the roof of the Milton, which +Janet and Katie used to share. She has set down her candle on +the little table before that small glass in the dark carved frame, +and herself stands by the window, which she has opened, looking +out. The rush of the burn fills the soft air with sound, into which +sometimes penetrates a far-off voice, which proclaims the little +town still awake and stirring: but save the light from Robert +Moulter's uncurtained window—revealing a dark gleaming link +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +of the burn, before the cot-house door—and the reddened sky +yonder, reflecting that fierce torch on the May, there is nothing +visible but the dark line of fields, and a few faint stars in the +clouded sky.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But the houses in Anster are not yet closed or silent. In the +street which leads past the town-house and church of West Anster +to the shore, you can see a ruddy light streaming out from the +window upon the causeway, the dark churchyard wall, and over-hanging +trees. At the fire stands a comely young woman, lifting +'a kettle of potatoes' from the crook. The 'kettle' is a capacious +pot on three feet, formed not like the ordinary 'kail-pat,' but like +a little tub of iron; and now, as it is set down before the ruddy +fire, you see it is full of laughing potatoes, disclosing themselves, +snow-white and mealy, through the cracks in their clear dark +coats. The mother of the household sits by the fireside, with a +volume of sermons in her hand; but she is paying but little attention +to the book, for the kitchen is full of young sailors, eagerly +discussing the events of the day, and through the hospitable open +door others are entering and departing with friendly salutations. +Another such animated company fills the house of the widow Morison, +'aest the town,' for still the afternoon's excitement has not +subsided.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But up this dark leaf-shadowed street, in which we stand, +there comes a muffled tramp as of stealthy footsteps. They hear +nothing of it in that bright warm kitchen—fear nothing, as they +gather round the fire, and sometimes rise so loud in their conversation +that the house-mother lifts her hand, and shakes her head, +with an admonitory, 'Whist bairns; mind, it's the Sabbath-day.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Behind backs, leaning against the sparkling panes of the window, +young Robert Davidson speaks aside to Lizzie Tosh, the +daughter of the house. They were 'cried' to-day in West Anster +kirk, and soon will have a blithe bridal—'If naething comes in +the way,' says Lizzie, with her downcast face; and the manly +young sailor answers—'Nae fear.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Nae fear!' But without, the stealthy steps come nearer; +and if you draw far enough away from the open door to lose the +merry voices, and have your eyes no longer dazzled with the light, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +you will see dim figures creeping through the darkness, and feel +that the air is heavy with the breath of men. But few people +care to use that dark road between the manse and the churchyard +at night, so no one challenges the advancing party, or gives the +alarm.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Lizzie Tosh has stolen to the door; it is to see if the moon is +up, and if Robert will have light on his homeward walk to Pittenweem; +but immediately she rushes in again, with a face as pale +as it had before been blooming, and alarms the assembly. 'A +band of the cutter's men;—an officer, with a sword at his side. +Rin, lads, rin, afore they reach the door.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"But there is a keen, eager face, with a cocked hat surmounting +it, already looking in at the window. The assembled sailors +make a wild plunge at the door; and, while a few escape under +cover of the darkness, the cutter's men have secured, after a desperate +resistance, three or four of the foremost. Poor fellows! +You see them stand without, young Robert Davidson in the front, +his broad, bronzed forehead bleeding from a cut he has received +in the scuffle, and one of his captors, still more visibly wounded, +looking on him with evil, revengeful eyes: his own eye, poor lad, +is flaming with fierce indignation and rage, and his broad breast +heaves almost convulsively. But now he catches a glimpse of the +weeping Lizzie, and fiery tears, which scorch his eyelids, blind +him for a moment, and his heart swells as if it would burst. But +it does not burst, poor desperate heart! until the appointed bullet +shall come, a year or two hence, to make its pulses quiet for +ever.</p> + +<p class="i1">"A few of the gang entered the house. It is only 'a but and a +ben;' and Lizzie stands with her back against the door of the +inner apartment, while her streaming eyes now and then cast a +sick, yearning glance toward the prisoners at the door—for her +brother stands there as well as her betrothed.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What for would you seek in there?' asked the mother, lifting +up her trembling hands. 'What would ye despoil my chaumer +for, after ye've made my hearthstane desolate. If ye've a +license to steal men, ye've nane to steal gear. Ye've dune your +warst: gang out o' my house ye thieves, ye locusts, ye'——</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'We'll see about that, old lady,' said the leader:—'put the +girl away from that door. Tom, bring the lantern.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The little humble room was neatly arranged. It was their +best, and they had not spared upon it what ornament they could +attain. Shells far travelled, precious for the giver's sake, and +many other heterogeneous trifles, such as sailors pick up in foreign +parts, were arranged upon the little mantel-piece and grate. +There was no nook or corner in it which could possibly be used +for a hiding-place; but the experienced eye of the foremost man +saw the homely counterpane disordered on the bed; and there +indeed the mother had hid her youngest, dearest son. She had +scarcely a minute's time to drag him in, to prevail upon him to +let her conceal him under her feather-bed, and all its comfortable +coverings. But the mother's pains were unavailing, and now +she stood by, and looked on with a suppressed scream, while that +heavy blow struck down her boy as he struggled—her youngest, +fair-haired, hopeful boy.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Calm thoughts are in your heart, Katie Stewart—dreams of +sailing over silver seas under that moon which begins to rise, +slowly climbing through the clouds yonder, on the south side of +the Firth. In fancy, already, you watch the soft Mediterranean +waves rippling past the side of the Flower of Fife, and see the +strange beautiful countries of which your bridegroom has told +you shining under the brilliant southern sun. And then the +home-coming—the curious toys you will gather yonder for the +sisters and the mother; the pride you will have in telling them +how Willie has cared for your voyage—how wisely he rules the +one Flower of Fife, how tenderly he guards the other.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Your heart is touched, Katie Stewart, touched with the calm +and pathos of great joy; and tears lie under your eyelashes, like +the dew on flowers. Clasp your white hands on the sill of the +window—heed not that your knees are unbended—and say your +child's prayers with lips which move but utter nothing audible, +and with your head bowed on the moonbeam, which steals into +your window like a bird. True, you have said these child's +prayers many a night, as in some sort a charm, to guard you as +you slept; but now there comes upon your spirit an awe of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +great Father yonder, a dim and wonderful apprehension of the +mysterious Son in whose name you make those prayers. Is it +true, then, that he thinks of all our loves and sorrows, this One, +whose visible form realizes to us the dim, grand, glorious heaven—knows +us by name—remembers us with the God's love in his +wonderful human heart;—<i>us</i>, scattered by myriads over his earth, +like the motes in the sunbeam? And the tears steal over your +cheeks, as you end the child's prayer with the name that is above +all names.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Now, will you rest? But the moon has mastered all her hilly +way of clouds, and from the full sky looks down on you, Katie, +with eyes of pensive blessedness like your own. Tarry a little—linger +to watch that one bright spot on the Firth, where you could +almost count the silvered waves as they lie beneath the light.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But a rude sound breaks upon the stillness—a sound of flying +feet echoing over the quiet road; and now they become visible—one +figure in advance, and a band of pursuers behind—the same +brave heart which spent its strength to-day to warn the unconscious +ship—the same strong form which Katie has seen in her +dreams on the quarter-deck of the Flower of Fife;—but he will +never reach that quarter-deck, Katie Stewart, for his strength +flags, and they gain upon him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Gain upon him, step by step, unpitying bloodhounds!—see +him lift up his hands to you, at your window, and have no ruth +for his young hope, or yours;—and now their hands are on his +shoulder, and he is in their power.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Katie!' cries the hoarse voice of Willie Morison, breaking +the strange fascination in which she stood, 'come down and speak +to me ae word, if ye wouldna break my heart. Man—if ye are a +man—let me bide a minute; let me say a word to her. I'll maybe +never see her in this world again.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The miller stood at the open door—the mother within was +wiping the tears from her cheeks. 'Oh Katie, bairn, that ye had +been sleeping!' But Katie rushed past them, and crossed the +burn.</p> + +<p class="i1">"What can they say?—only convulsively grasp each other's +hands—wofully look into each other's faces, ghastly in the moonlight; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +till Willie—Willie, who could have carried her like a child, +in his strength of manhood—bowed down his head into those +little hands of hers which are lost in his own vehement grasp, +and hides with them his passionate tears.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Willie, I'll never forget ye,' says aloud the instinctive impulse +of little Katie's heart, forgetting for the moment that there +is any grief in the world but to see his. 'Night and day I'll +mind ye, think of ye. If ye were twenty years away, I would be +blither to wait for ye, than to be a queen. Willie, if ye must go, +go with a stout heart—for I'll never forget ye, if it should be +twenty years!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Twenty years! Only eighteen have you been in the world +yet, brave little Katie Stewart; and you know not the years, how +they drag their drooping skirts over the hills when hearts long +for their ending, or how it is only day by day, hour by hour, that +they wear out at length, and fade into the past.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Now, my man, let's have no more of this,' said the leader of +the gang. 'I'm not here to wait your leisure; come on.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"And now they are away—truly away—and the darkness settles +down where this moment Katie saw her bridegroom's head bowing +over the hands which still are wet with his tears. Twenty +years! Her own words ring into her heart like a knell, a prophecy +of evil—if he should be twenty years away!"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">There is no exaggeration in the above narrative. +Similar scenes have occurred on many occasions, and +others of equally affecting character might be gathered +from British sailors themselves. In the story of "Katie +Stewart," ten years elapse before Willie Morison is +permitted to return to his betrothed. In many cases +the pressed seamen never catch a glimpse of home or +friends again. Sometimes decoys and stratagems are +used to press the seamen into the service of the government. +Such extensive powers are intrusted to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +officers of men-of-war, that they may be guilty of +the grossest violations of right and justice with impunity, +and even those "protections" which the government +extends to certain persons, are frequently of no +effect whatever. In the novel of "Jacob Faithful," +Captain Marryatt has given a fine illustration of the +practice of some officers. The impressment of Jacob +and Thomas the waterman, is told with Marryatt's +usual spirit. Here it is:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'I say, you watermen, have you a mind for a good fare?' cried +a dark-looking, not over clean, square built, short young man +standing on the top of the flight of steps.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Where to, sir?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Gravesend, my jokers, if you a'n't afraid of salt water.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'That's a long way, sir!' replied Tom, 'and for salt water we +must have salt to our porridge.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'So you shall, my lads, and a glass of grog into the bargain.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, but the bargain a'n't made yet, sir. Jacob, will you go?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, but not under a guinea.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Not under two guineas,' replied Tom, aside.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Are you in a great hurry, sir?' continued he, addressing the +young man.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, in a devil of a hurry; I shall lose my ship. What will +you take me for?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Two guineas, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Very well. Just come up to the public-house here, and put +in my traps.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"We had brought down his luggage, put it into the wherry and +started down the river with the tide. Our fare was very communicative, +and we found out that he was master's mate of the Immortalité, +forty-gun frigate, lying off Gravesend, which was to +drop down the next morning, and wait for sailing orders at the +Downs. We carried the tide with us, and in the afternoon were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +close to the frigate, whose blue ensign waved proudly over the +taffrail. There was a considerable sea arising from the wind +meeting the tide, and before we arrived close to her, we had +shipped a great deal of water; and when we were alongside, the +wherry, with the chest in her bows, pitched so heavily, that we were +afraid of being swamped. Just as a rope had been made fast to +the chest, and they were weighing it out of the wherry, the ship's +launch with water came alongside, and whether from accident or +wilfully I know not, although I suspect the latter, the midshipman +who steered her, shot her against the wherry, which was +crushed in, and immediately filled, leaving Tom and me in the +water, and in danger of being jammed to death between the +launch and the side of the frigate. The seamen in the boat, +however, forced her off with their oars, and hauled us in, while +our wherry sank with her gunnel even with the water's edge, and +floated away astern.</p> + +<p class="i1">"As soon as we had shaken ourselves a little, we went up the side +and asked one of the officers to send a boat to pick up our wherry.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Speak to the first lieutenant—there he is,' was the reply.</p> + +<p class="i1">"I went up to the person pointed out to me: 'If you please +sir'——</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What the devil do you want?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'A boat, sir, to'——</p> + +<p class="i1">"'A boat! the devil you do!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'To pick up our wherry, sir,' interrupted Tom.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Pick it up yourself,' said the first lieutenant, passing us and +hailing the men aloft. 'Maintop there, hook on your stay. Be +smart. Lower away the yards. Marines and afterguard, clear +launch. Boatswain's-mate.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Here, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Pipe marines and afterguard to clear launch.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Ay, ay, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'But we shall lose our boat, Jacob,' said Tom, to me. 'They +stove it in, and they ought to pick it up.' Tom then went up to +the master's-mate, whom we had brought on board, and explained +our difficulty.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Upon my soul, I dar'n't say a word. I'm in a scrape for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +breaking my leave. Why the devil didn't you take care of your +wherry, and haul ahead when you saw the launch coming.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How could we when the chest was hoisting out?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Very true. Well, I'm very sorry for you, but I must look +after my chest.' So saying, he disappeared down the gangway +ladder.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I'll try it again, any how,' said Tom, going up to the first +lieutenant. 'Hard case to lose our boat and our bread, sir,' said +Tom, touching his hat.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The first lieutenant, now that the marines and afterguard +were at a regular stamp and go, had, unfortunately, more leisure +to attend to us. He looked at us earnestly, and walked aft to +see if the wherry was yet in sight. At that moment up came the +master's-mate who had not yet reported himself to the first lieutenant.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Tom,' said I, 'there's a wherry close to; let us get into it, +and go after our boat ourselves.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Wait one moment to see if they will help us—and get our +money, at all events,' replied Tom; and we walked aft.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Come on board, sir,' said the master's mate, touching his +hat with humility.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You've broke your leave, sir,' replied the first lieutenant, +'and now I've to send a boat to pick up the wherry through your +carelessness.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'If you please, they are two very fine young men,' observed +the mate. 'Make capital foretop-men. Boat's not worth sending +for, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"This hint, given by the mate to the first lieutenant, to regain +his favour, was not lost. 'Who are you, my lads?' said the first +lieutenant to us.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Watermen, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Watermen, hey! was that your own boat?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No, sir,' replied I, 'it belonged to the man that I serve with.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Oh! not your own boat? Are you an apprentice then?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Yes, sir, both apprentices.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Show me your indentures.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'We don't carry them about with us.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Then how am I to know that you are apprentices?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'We can prove it, sir, if you wish it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I do wish it; at all events, the captain will wish it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Will you please to send for the boat, sir? she's almost out +of sight.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No, my lads, I can't find king's boats for such service.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Then, we had better go ourselves, Tom,' said I, and we went +forward to call the waterman who was lying on his oars close to +the frigate.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Stop—stop—not so fast. Where are you going, my lads?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'To pick up our boat, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Without my leave, hey!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'We don't belong to the frigate, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No; but I think it very likely that you will, for you have +no protections.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'We can send for them and have them down by to-morrow +morning.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well, you may do so, if you please, my lads; you cannot +expect me to believe every thing that is told me. Now, for instance, +how long have you to serve, my lad?' said he, addressing +Tom.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'My time is up to-morrow, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Up to-morrow. Why, then, I shall detain you until to-morrow, +and then I shall press you.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'If you detain me now, sir, I am pressed to-day.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Oh no! you are only detained until you prove your apprenticeship, +that's all.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Nay, sir, I certainly am pressed during my apprenticeship.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Not at all, and I'll prove it to you. You don't belong to the +ship until you are victualled on her books. Now, I shan't <i>victual</i> +you to-day, and therefore, you won't be <i>pressed</i>.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I shall be pressed with hunger, at all events,' replied Tom, +who never could lose a joke.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No, you shan't; for I'll send you both a good dinner out of +the gun-room, so you won't be pressed at all,' replied the lieutenant, +laughing at Tom's reply.</p> + +<p class="i1">"You will allow me to go, sir, at all events,' replied I; 'for I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +knew that the only chance of getting Tom and myself clear was +by hastening to Mr. Drummond for assistance.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Pooh! nonsense; you must both row in the same boat as +you have done. The fact is, my lads, I've taken a great fancy to +you both, and I can't make up my mind to part with you.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'It's hard to lose our bread, this way,' replied I.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'We will find you bread, and hard enough you will find it,' +replied the lieutenant, laughing; 'it's like a flint.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'So we ask for bread, and you give us a stone,' said Tom; +'that's 'gainst Scripture.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Very true, my lad; but the fact is, all the scriptures in the +world won't man the frigate. Men we must have, and get them +how we can, and where we can, and when we can. Necessity has +no law; at least it obliges us to break through all laws. After all, +there's no great hardship in serving the king for a year or two, and +filling your pockets with prize-money. Suppose you volunteer?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Will you allow us to go on shore for half an hour to think +about it?' replied I.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No; I'm afraid of the crimps dissuading you. But, I'll give +you till to-morrow morning, and then I shall be sure of one, at +all events.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Thanky, for me,' replied Tom.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You're very welcome,' replied the first lieutenant, as, laughing +at us, he went down the companion ladder to his dinner.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well, Jacob, we are in for it,' said Tom, as soon as we were +alone. 'Depend upon it, there's no mistake this time.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I'm afraid not,' replied I, 'unless we can get a letter to your +father, or Mr. Drummond, who, I am sure, would help us. But +that dirty fellow, who gave the first lieutenant the hint, said the +frigate sailed to-morrow morning; there he is, let us speak to +him.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'When does the frigate sail?' said Tom to the master's-mate, +who was walking the deck.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'My good fellow, it's not the custom on board of a man-of-war +for men to ask officers to answer such impertinent questions. +It's quite sufficient for you to know that when the frigate sails, +you will have the honour of sailing in her.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Well, sir,' replied I, nettled at his answer, 'at all events, +you will have the goodness to pay us our fare. We have lost our +wherry, and our liberty, perhaps, through you; we may as well +have our two guineas.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Two guineas! It's two guineas you want, heh?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, sir, that was the fare agreed upon.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Why, you must observe, my men,' said the master's-mate, +hooking a thumb into each arm-hole of his waistcoat, 'there must +be a little explanation as to that affair. I promised you two +guineas as watermen; but now that you belong to a man-of-war, +you are no longer watermen. I always pay my debts honourably +when I can find the lawful creditors; but where are the watermen?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Here we are, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No, my lads, you are men-of-war's men now, and that quite +alters the case."</p> + +<p class="i1">"'But we are not so yet, sir: even if it did alter the case, we +are not pressed yet.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well, then, you will be to-morrow, perhaps; at all events +we shall see. If you are allowed to go on shore again, I owe +you two guineas as watermen; and if you are detained as men-of-war's +men, why then you will only have done your duty in pulling +down one of your officers. You see, my lads, I say nothing +but what's fair.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well, sir, but when you hired us, we were watermen,' replied +Tom.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Very true, so you were; but recollect the two guineas were +not due until you had completed your task, which was not until +you came on board. When you came on board you were pressed +and became men-of-war's men. You should have asked for your +fare before the first lieutenant got hold of you. Don't you perceive +the justice of my remarks?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Can't say I do, sir; but I perceive that there is very little +chance of our being paid,' said Tom.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You are a lad of discrimination,' replied the master's-mate; +'and now I advise you to drop the subject, or you may induce +me to pay you man-of-war fashion.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'How's that, sir?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Over the face and eyes, as the cat paid the monkey,' replied +the master's-mate, walking leisurely away.</p> + +<p class="i1">"No go, Tom,' said I, smiling at the absurdity of the arguments.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I'm afraid it's <i>no go</i>, in every way, Jacob. However, I don't +care much about it. I have had a little hankering after seeing +the world, and perhaps now's as well as any other time; but I'm +sorry for you, Jacob.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'It's all my own fault,' replied I; and I fell into one of those +reveries so often indulged in of late as to the folly of my conduct +in asserting my independence, which had now ended in my losing +my liberty. But we were cold from the ducking we had received, +and moreover very hungry. The first lieutenant did not forget +his promise: he sent us up a good dinner, and a glass of grog +each, which we discussed under the half-deck between two of the +guns. We had some money in our pockets, and we purchased +some sheets of paper from the bumboat people, who were on the +main-deck supplying the seamen; and I wrote to Mr. Drummond +and Mr. Turnbull, as well as to Mary and old Tom, requesting +the two latter to forward our clothes to Deal, in case of our being +detained. Tom also wrote to comfort his mother, and the greatest +comfort he could give was, as he said, to promise to keep +sober. Having intrusted these letters to the bumboat women, +who promised faithfully to put them into the post-office, we had +then nothing else to do but to look out for some place to sleep. +Our clothes had dried on us, and we were walking under the half-deck, +but not a soul spoke to, or even took the least notice of us. +In a newly manned ship, just ready to sail, there is a universal +feeling of selfishness prevailing among the ship's company. Some, +if not most, had, like us, been pressed, and their thoughts were +occupied with their situation, and the change in their prospects. +Others were busy making their little arrangements with their +wives or relations; while the mass of the seamen, not yet organized +by discipline, or known to each other, were in a state of dis-union +and individuality, which naturally induced every man to +look after himself, without caring for his neighbour. We therefore +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +could not expect, nor did we receive any sympathy; we were +in a scene of bustle and noise, yet alone. A spare topsail, which +had been stowed for the present between two of the guns, was +the best accommodation which offered itself. We took possession +of it, and, tired with exertion of mind and body, were soon fast +asleep."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In the mean time, doubtless, there was weeping and +wailing at the homes of the pressed seamen. Parents, +tottering on the verge of the grave, and deprived of +their natural support—wives and children at the fireside +uncheered by the presence of the head of the +family—could only weep for the absent ones, and pray +that their government might one day cease to be tyrannical.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">IRISH SLAVERY.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">For</span> centuries the Irish nation has groaned under +the yoke of England. The chain has worn to the +bone. The nation has felt its strength depart. Many +of its noblest and fairest children have pined away in +dungeons or starved by the roadside. The tillers of +the soil, sweating from sunrise to sunset for a bare +subsistence, have been turned from their miserable +cabins—hovels, yet homes—and those who have been +allowed to remain have had their substance devoured +by a government seemingly never satisfied with the +extent of its taxation. They have suffered unmitigated +persecution for daring to have a religion of their own. +Seldom has a conquered people suffered more from the +cruelties and exactions of the conquerors. While +Clarkson and Wilberforce were giving their untiring +labours to the cause of emancipating negro slaves +thousands of miles away, they overlooked a hideous +system of slavery at their very doors—the slavery of a +people capable of enjoying the highest degree of civil +and religious freedom. Says William Howitt—</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_284.jpg" id="i_284.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_284.jpg" + alt="" /> + <div class="caption">IRISH TENANT ABOUT TO EMIGRATE.</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The great grievance of Ireland—the Monster Grievance—is +just England itself. The curse of Ireland is bad government, +and nothing more. And who is the cause of this? Nobody but +England. Who made Ireland a conquered country? England. +Who introduced all the elements of wrangling, discontent, and +injustice? England. Who set two hostile churches, and two +hostile races, Celts and Saxons, together by the ears in that country? +England, of course. Her massacres, her military plantations, +her violent seizure of ancient estates, her favouritism, her +monstrous laws and modes of government, were the modern +emptying of Pandora's box—the shaking out of a bag-full of +Kilkenny cats on the soil of that devoted country. The consequences +are exactly those that we have before us. Wretched +Saxon landlords, who have left one-fourth of the country uncultivated, +and squeezed the population to death by extortion on the +rest. A great useless church maintained on the property of the +ejected Catholics—who do as men are sure to do, kick at robbery, +and feel it daily making their gall doubly bitter. And then we +shake our heads and sagely talk about race. If the race be bad, +why have we not taken pains to improve it? Why, for scores of +years, did we forbid them even to be educated? Why do we +complain of their being idle and improvident, and helpless, when +we have done every thing we could to make them so? Are our +ministers and Parliaments any better? Are they not just as idle, +and improvident, and helpless, as it regards Ireland? Has not +this evil been growing these three hundred years? Have any +remedies been applied but those of Elizabeth, and the Stuarts +and Straffords, the Cromwells, and Dutch William's? Arms and +extermination? We have built barracks instead of schools; we +have sown gunpowder instead of corn—and now we wonder at +the people and the crops. The wisest and best of men have for +ages been crying out for reform and improvement in Ireland, +and all that we have done has been to augment the army and the +police."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The condition of the Irish peasantry has long been +most miserable. Untiring toil for the lords of the soil +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +gives the labourers only such a living as an American +slave would despise. Hovels fit for pig-styes—rags +for clothing—potatoes for food—are the fruits of the +labour of these poor wretches. A vast majority of +them are attached to the Roman Catholic Church, yet +they are compelled to pay a heavy tax for the support +of the Established Church. This, and other exactions, +eat up their little substance, and prevent them from +acquiring any considerable property. Their poor +homes are merely held by the sufferance of grasping +agents for landlords, and they are compelled to submit +to any terms he may prescribe or become wandering +beggars, which alternative is more terrible to many of +them than the whip would be.</p> + +<p class="i1">O'Connell, the indomitable advocate of his oppressed +countrymen, used the following language in his repeal +declaration of July 27, 1841:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"It ought to sink deep into the minds of the English aristocracy, +that no people on the face of the earth pay to another such a +tribute for permission to live, as Ireland pays to England in +absentee rents and surplus revenues. There is no such instance; +there is nothing like it in ancient or modern history. There is +not, and there never was, such an exhausting process applied to +any country as is thus applied to Ireland. It is a solecism in +political economy, inflicted upon Ireland alone, of all the nations +that are or ever were."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Surely it is slavery to pay such a price for a miserable +existence. We cannot so abuse terms as to call a +people situated as the Irish are, free. They are compelled +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +to labour constantly without receiving an approach +to adequate compensation, and they have no +means of escape except by sundering the ties of home, +kindred, and country.</p> + +<p class="i1">The various repulsive features of the Irish system +can be illustrated much more fully than our limits will +permit. But we will proceed to a certain extent, as it +is in Ireland that the results of British tyranny have +been most frightfully manifested.</p> + +<p class="i1">The population of Ireland is chiefly agricultural, yet +there are no agricultural labourers in the sense in +which that term is employed in Great Britain. A +peasant living entirely by hire, without land, is wholly +unknown.</p> + +<p class="i1">The persons who till the ground may be divided into +three classes, which are sometimes distinguished by the +names of small farmers, cottiers, and casual labourers; +or, as the last are sometimes called, "con-acre" men.</p> + +<p class="i1">The class of small farmers includes those who hold +from five to twelve Irish acres. The cottiers are those +who hold about two acres, in return for which they +labour for the farmer of twenty acres or more, or for +the gentry.</p> + +<p class="i1">Con-acre is ground hired, not by the year, but for a +single crop, usually of potatoes. The tenant of con-acre +receives the land in time to plant potatoes, and +surrenders it so soon as the crop has been secured. +The farmer from whom he receives it usually ploughs +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +and manures the land, and sometimes carts the crop. +Con-acre is taken by tradesmen, small farmers, and +cottiers, but chiefly by labourers, who are, in addition, +always ready to work for hire when there is employment +for them. It is usually let in roods, and other +small quantities, rarely exceeding half an acre. These +three classes, not very distinct from each other, form +the mass of the Irish population.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"According to the census of 1831," says Mr. Bicheno, "the +population of Ireland was 7,767,401; the 'occupiers employing +labourers' were 95,339; the 'labourers employed in agriculture,' +(who do not exist in Ireland as a class corresponding to +that in England,) and the 'occupiers not employing labourers,' +amounted together to 1,131,715. The two last descriptions pretty +accurately include the cottier tenants and cottier labourers; and, +as these are nearly all heads of families, it may be inferred from +hence how large a portion of the soil of Ireland is cultivated by a +peasant tenantry; and when to these a further addition is made +of a great number of little farmers, a tolerably accurate opinion +may be formed of the insignificant weight and influence that any +middle class in the rural districts can have, as compared with the +peasants. Though many may occupy a greater extent of land +than the 'cottiers,' and, if held immediately from the proprietor, +generally at a more moderate rent, and may possess some trifling +stock, almost all the inferior tenantry of Ireland belong to one +class. The cottier and the little farmer have the same feelings, +the same interests to watch over, and the same sympathies. +Their diet and their clothing are not very dissimilar, though +they may vary in quantity; and the one cannot be ordinarily +distinguished from the other by any external appearance. Neither +does the dress of the children of the little farmers mark any distinction +of rank, as it does in England; while their wives are +singularly deficient in the comforts of apparel."—<i>Report of +Commissioners of Poor Inquiry.</i></p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">The whole population, small farmers, cottiers, and +labourers, are equally devoid of capital. The small +farmer holds his ten or twelve acres of land at a nominal +rent—a rent determined not by what the land will +yield, but by the intensity of the competition to obtain +it. He takes from his farm a wretched subsistence, +and gives over the remainder to his landlord. This +remainder rarely equals the nominal rent, the growing +arrears of which are allowed to accumulate against +him.</p> + +<p class="i1">The cottier labours constantly for his landlord, (or +master, as he would have been termed of old,) and +receives, for his wages as a serf, land which will afford +him but a miserable subsistence. Badly off as these +two classes are, their condition is still somewhat better +than that of the casual labourer, who hires con-acre, +and works for wages at seasons when employment can +be had, to get in the first place the means of paying +the rent for his con-acre.</p> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Bicheno says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"It appears from the evidence that the average crops of con-acre +produce about as much or a little more, (at the usual price +of potatoes in the autumn,) than the amount of the rent, seed, +and tenant's labour, say 5<i>s.</i> or 10<i>s.</i> Beyond this the labourer +does not seem to derive any other direct profit from taking con-acre; +but he has the following inducements. In some cases he +contracts to work out a part, or the whole, of his con-acre rent; +and, even when this indulgence is not conceded to him by previous +agreement, he always hopes, and endeavours to prevail on +the farmer to be allowed this privilege, which, in general want +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +of employment, is almost always so much clear gain to him. By +taking con-acre he also considers that he is <i>securing</i> food to the +extent of the crop for himself and family at the low autumn +price; whereas, if he had to go to market for it, he would be subject +to the loss of time, and sometimes expense of carriage, to +the fluctuations of the market, and to an advance of price in +spring and summer."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Of the intensity of the competition for land, the following +extracts from the evidence may give an idea:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"<i>Galway</i>, F. 35.—'If I now let it be known that I had a farm +of five acres to let, I should have fifty bidders in twenty-four +hours, and all of them would be ready to promise any rent that +might be asked.'—<i>Mr. Birmingham.</i> The landlord takes on +account whatever portion of the rent the tenant may be able to +offer; the remainder he does not remit, but allows to remain over. +A remission of a portion of the rent in either plentiful or scarce +seasons is never made as a matter of course; when it does take +place, it is looked upon as a favour.</p> + +<p class="i1">'The labourer is, from the absence of any other means of +subsisting himself and family, thrown upon the hire of land, and +the land he must hire at any rate; the payment of the promised +rent is an after consideration. He always offers such a rent as +leaves him nothing of the produce for his own use but potatoes, +his corn being entirely for his landlord's claim.'—<i>Rev. Mr. +Hughes</i>, P. P., and <i>Parker</i>.</p> + +<p class="i1">"<i>Leitrim</i>, F. 36 and 37.—'So great is the competition for small +holdings, that, if a farm of five acres were vacant, I really believe +that nine out of every ten men in the neighbourhood would bid +for it if they thought they had the least chance of getting it: +they would be prepared to outbid each other, <i>ad infinitum</i>, in +order to get possession of the land. <i>The rent which the people +themselves would deem moderate, would not in any case admit of +their making use of any other food than potatoes</i>; there are even +many instances in this barony where the occupier cannot feed +himself and family off the land he holds. In his anxiety to grow +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +as much oats (his only marketable produce) as will meet the +various claims upon him, he devotes so small a space to the cultivation +of potatoes, that he is obliged to take a portion of con-acre, +and to pay for it by wages earned at a time when he would +have been better employed on his own account.'—<i>Rev. T. Maguire</i>, +P. P."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The land is subdivided into such small portions, that +the labourer has not sufficient to grow more than a +very scanty provision for himself and family. The +better individuals of the class manage to secrete some +of its produce from the landlord, to do which it is of +course necessary that they should not employ it on +their land: but if land is offered to be let, persons will +be found so eager for it as to make compliments to +some one of the family of the landlord or of his agent.</p> + +<p class="i1">The exactions of agents and sub-agents are the most +frequent causes of suffering among the peasantry. +These agents are a class peculiar to Ireland. They +take a large extent of ground, which they let out in +small portions to the real cultivator. They grant +leases sometimes, but the tenant is still in their power, +and they exact personal services, presents, bribes; +and draw from the land as much as they can, without +the least regard for its permanent welfare. That portion +of the poor peasant's substance which escapes the +tithes and tax of government is seized by the remorseless +agents, and thus the wretched labourer can get +but a miserable subsistence by the severest toil.</p> + +<p class="i1">In general the tenant takes land, promising to pay a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +"nominal rent," in other words, a rent he never can +pay. This rent falls into arrear, and the landlord +allows the arrear to accumulate against him, in the +hope that if he should chance to have an extraordinary +crop, or if he should obtain it from any unexpected +source, the landlord may claim it for his arrears.</p> + +<p class="i1">The report of Poor-Law Commissioners states that +"Agricultural wages vary from 6<i>d.</i> to 1<i>s.</i> a day; +that the average of the country in general is about +8½<i>d.</i>; and that the earnings of the labourers, on an +average of the whole class, are from 2<i>s.</i> to 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a +week, or thereabout."</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Thus circumstanced, it is impossible for the able-bodied, in +general, to provide against sickness or the temporary absence of +employment, or against old age or the destitution of their widows +and children in the contingent event of their own premature +decease.</p> + +<p class="i1">"A great portion of them are insufficiently provided at any +time with the commonest necessaries of life. Their habitations +are wretched hovels; several of a family sleep together upon +straw or upon the bare ground, sometimes with a blanket, sometimes +not even so much to cover them; their food commonly consists +of dry potatoes, and with these they are at times so scantily +supplied as to be obliged to stint themselves to one spare meal in +the day. There are even instances of persons being driven by +hunger to seek sustenance in wild herbs. They sometimes get a +herring, or a little milk, but they never get meat, except at +Christmas, Easter, and Shrovetide."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The peasant finds himself obliged to live upon the +cheapest food, <i>potatoes</i>, and potatoes of the worst quality, +because they yield most, and are consequently the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +cheapest. These potatoes are "little better than turnips." +"Lumpers" is the name given to them. They +are two degrees removed from those which come ordinarily +to our tables, and which are termed "apples." +Mr. Bicheno says, describing the three sorts of potatoes—apples, +cups, and lumpers—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The first named are of the best quality, but produce the least +in quantity; the cups are not so good in quality as the apples, +but produce more; and the lumpers are the worst of the three in +quality, but yield the heaviest crop. For these reasons the +apples are generally sent to Dublin and other large towns for +sale. The cups are grown for the consumption of smaller towns, +and are eaten by the larger farmers, and the few of the small occupiers +and labourers who are in better circumstances than the +generality of their class; and the lumpers are grown by large +farmers for stall-feeding cattle, and by most of the small occupiers +and all the labourers (except a few in constant employment, +and having but small families) for their own food. Though +most of the small occupiers and labourers grow apples and cups, +they do not use them themselves, with the few exceptions mentioned, +except as holiday fare, and as a little indulgence on +particular occasions. They can only afford to consume the +lumpers, or coarsest quality, themselves, on account of the much +larger produce and consequent cheapness of that sort. The +apples yield 10 to 15 per cent. less than the cups, and the cups +10 to 15 per cent. less than the lumpers, making a difference of +20 to 30 per cent. between the produce of the best and the worst +qualities. To illustrate the practice and feeling of the country +in this respect, the following occurrence was related by one of +the witnesses:—'A landlord, in passing the door of one of his +tenants, a small occupier, who was in arrears with his rent, saw +one of his daughters washing potatoes at the door, and perceiving +that they were of the apple kind, asked her if they were +intended for their dinner. Upon being answered that they were, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +he entered the house, and asked the tenant what he meant +by eating <i>apple</i> potatoes when they were fetching so good a +price in Dublin, and while he did not pay him (the landlord) his +rent?'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Lumpers, dry, that is, without milk or any other +addition to them, are the ordinary food of the people. +The pig which is seen in most Irish cabins, and the cow +and fowls kept by the small farmers, go to market to +pay the rent; even the eggs are sold. Small farmers, +as well as labourers, rarely have even milk to their +potatoes.</p> + +<p class="i1">The following graphic description of an Irish peasant's +home, we quote from the Pictorial Times, of +February 7, 1846. Some districts in Ireland are +crowded with such hovels:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"<i>Cabin of J. Donoghue.</i>—The hovel to which the eye is now +directed scarcely exceeds Donoghue's length. He will have almost +as much space when laid in his grave. He can stand up in +no part of his cabin except the centre; and yet he is not an aged +man, who has outlived all his connections, and with a frame just +ready to mingle with its native dust. Nor is he a bachelor, absolutely +impenetrable to female charms, or looking out for some +damsel to whom he may be united, 'for better or for worse.' +Donoghue, the miserable inmate of that hovel, on the contrary, +has a wife and three children; and these, together with a dog, a +pig, and sundry fowls, find in that cabin their common abode. +Human beings and brutes are there huddled together; and the +motive to the occupancy of the former is just the same as that +which operates to the keeping of the latter—what they produce. +Did not the pig and the fowls make money, Donoghue would have +none; did not Donoghue pay his rent, the cabin would quickly +have another tenant. Indeed, his rent is only paid, and he and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +his family saved from being turned adrift into the wide world, by +his pig and his fowls.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But the cabin should be examined more particularly. It has +a hole for a door, it has another for a window, it has a third +through which the smoke may find vent, and nothing more. No +resemblance to the door of an English cottage, however humble, +nor the casement it is never without, nor even the rudest chimney +from which the blue smoke arises, suggesting to the observer +many ideas of comfort for its inmates, can possibly be traced. +The walls, too, are jet black; and that which ought to be a floor +is mud, thick mud, full of holes. The bed of the family is sod. +The very cradle is a sort of swing suspended from the roof, and +it is set in motion by the elbow of the wretched mother of the +wretched child it contains, if she is not disposed to make use of +her hands.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The question may fairly be proposed—What comfort can a +man have in such circumstances? Can he find some relief from +his misery, as many have found and still find it, by conversing +with his wife? No. To suppose this, is to imagine him standing +in a higher class of beings than the one of which he has always +formed a part. Like himself, too, his wife is oppressed; the +growth of her faculties is stunted; and, it may be, she is hungry, +faint, and sick. Can he talk with his children? No. What can +he, who knows nothing, tell them? What hope can he stimulate +who has nothing to promise? Can he ask in a neighbour? No. +He has no hospitality to offer him, and the cabin is crowded with +his own family. Can he accost a stranger who may travel in the +direction of his hovel, to make himself personally acquainted +with his condition and that of others? No. He speaks a language +foreign to an Englishman or a Scotchman, and which those +who hate the 'Saxon,' whatever compliments they may pay him +for their own purposes, use all the means they possess to maintain. +Can he even look at his pig with the expectation that he +will one day eat the pork or the bacon it will yield? No; not +he. He knows that not a bone of the loin or a rasher will be his. +That pig will go, like all the pigs he has had, to pay his rent. +Only one comfort remains, which he has in common with his pig +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +and his dog, the warmth of his peat fire. Poor Donoghue! thou +belongest to a race often celebrated as 'the finest peasantry in the +world,' but it would be difficult to find a savage in his native +forest who is not better off than thou!"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">There is one other comfort besides the peat fire, +which Donoghue may have, and that is an occasional +gill of whisky—a temporary comfort, an ultimate +destruction—a new fetter to bind him down in his +almost brutal condition. In Ireland, as in England, +intoxication is the Lethe in which the heart-sick +labourers strive to forget their sorrows. Intemperance +prevails most where poverty is most generally felt.</p> + +<p class="i1">The Pictorial Times thus sketches a cabin of the +better class, belonging to a man named Pat Brennan:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"We will enter it, and look round with English eyes. We will +do so, too, in connection with the remembrance of an humble +dwelling in England. There we find at least a table, but here +there is none. There we find some chairs, but here there are +none. There we find a cupboard, but here there is none. There +we find some crockery and earthenware, but here there is none. +There we find a clock, but here there is none. There we find a +bed, bedstead, and coverings, but here there are none. There is +a brick, or stone, or boarded floor, but here there is none. What +a descent would an English agricultural labourer have to make if +he changed situations with poor Pat Brennan, who is better off +than most of the tenants of Derrynane Beg, and it may be in the +best condition of them all! Brennan's cabin has one room, in +which he and his family live, of course with the fowls and pigs. +One end is partitioned off in the manner of a loft, the loft being +the potato store. The space underneath, where the fire is kindled, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +has side spaces for seats. In some instances, the turf-bed is on +one side and the seats on the other. The other contents of the +dwelling are—a milk-pail, a pot, a wooden bowl or two, a platter, +and a broken ladder. A gaudy picture of the Virgin Mary may +sometimes be seen in such cabins."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The eviction of the wretched peasantry has caused +an immense amount of misery, and crowds of the +evicted ones have perished from starvation. The tillers +of the soil are mere tenants at will, and may ejected +from their homes without a moment's notice. A whim +of the landlord, the failure of the potato crop, or of +the ordinary resources of the labourers, by which they +are rendered unable to pay their rent for a short time, +usually results in an edict of levelling and extermination. +A recent correspondent of the London Illustrated +News, thus describes the desolation of an Irish +village:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The village of Killard forms part of the Union of Kilrush, +and possesses an area of 17,022 acres. It had a population, in +1841, of 6850 souls, and was valued to the poor-rate at £4254. +It is chiefly the property, I understand, of Mr. John McMahon +Blackall, whose healthy residence is admirably situated on the +brow of a hill, protected by another ridge from the storms of the +Atlantic. His roof-tree yet stands there, but the people have disappeared. +The village was mostly inhabited by fishermen, who +united with their occupation on the waters the cultivation of +potatoes. When the latter failed, it might have been expected +that the former should have been pursued with more vigour than +ever; but boats and lines were sold for present subsistence, and +to the failure of the potatoes was added the abandonment of the +fisheries. The rent dwindled to nothing, and then came the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +leveller and the exterminator. What has become of the 6850 +souls, I know not; but not ten houses remain of the whole village +to inform the wayfarer where, according to the population returns, +they were to be found in 1841. They were here, but are gone for +ever; and all that remains of their abodes are a few mouldering +walls, and piles of offensive thatch turning into manure. Killard +is an epitome of half Ireland. If the abodes of the people had +not been so slight, that they have mingled, like Babylon, with +their original clay, Ireland would for ages be renowned for its +ruins; but, as it is, the houses are swept away like the people, +and not a monument remains of a multitude, which, in ancient +Asia or in the wilds of America, would numerically constitute a +great nation."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The same correspondent mentions a number of other +instances of the landlord's devastation, and states that +large tracts of fertile land over which he passed were +lying waste, while the peasantry were starving by the +roadside, or faring miserably in the workhouses. At +Carihaken, in the county of Galway, the levellers had +been at work, and had tumbled down eighteen houses. +The correspondent says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In one of them dwelt John Killian, who stood by me while I +made a sketch of the remains of his dwelling. He told me that +he and his fathers before him had owned this now ruined cabin +for ages, and that he had paid £4 a year for four acres of ground. +He owed no rent; before it was due, the landlord's drivers cut +down his crops, carried them off, gave him no account of the proceeds, +and then tumbled his house. The hut made against the +end wall of a former habitation was not likely to remain, as a +decree had gone forth entirely to clear the place. The old man +also told me that his son having cut down, on the spot that was +once his own garden, a few sticks to make him a shelter, was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +taken up, prosecuted, and sentenced to two months' confinement, +for destroying trees and making waste of the property.</p> + +<p class="i1">"I must supply you with another sketch of a similar subject, +on the road between Maam and Clifden, in Joyce's County, once +famous for the Patagonian stature of the inhabitants, who are +now starved down to ordinary dimensions. High up on the +mountain, but on the roadside, stands the scalpeen of Keillines. +It is near General Thompson's property. Conceive five human +beings living in such a hole: the father was out, at work; the +mother was getting fuel on the hills, and the children left in the +hut could only say they were hungry. Their appearance confirmed +their words—want was deeply engraved in their faces, and +their lank bodies were almost unprotected by clothing.</p> + +<p class="i1">"From Clifden to Ouchterade, twenty-one miles, is a dreary +drive over a moor, unrelieved except by a glimpse of Mr. Martin's +house at Ballynahinch, and of the residence of Dean Mahon. +Destitute as this tract is of inhabitants, about Ouchterade some +thirty houses have been recently demolished. A gentleman who +witnessed the scene told me nothing could exceed the heartlessness +of the levellers, if it were not the patient submission of the +sufferers. They wept, indeed; and the children screamed with +agony at seeing their homes destroyed and their parents in tears; +but the latter allowed themselves unresistingly to be deprived of +what is to most people the dearest thing on earth next to their +lives—their only home.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The public records, my own eyes, a piercing wail of wo +throughout the land—all testify to the vast extent of the evictions +at the present time. Sixteen thousand and odd persons +unhoused in the Union of Kilrush before the month of June in +the present year; seventy-one thousand one hundred and thirty +holdings done away in Ireland, and nearly as many houses destroyed, +in 1848; two hundred and fifty-four thousand holdings +of more than one acre and less than five acres, put an end to +between 1841 and 1848: six-tenths, in fact, of the lowest class of +tenantry driven from their now roofless or annihilated cabins and +houses, makes up the general description of that desolation of +which Tullig and Mooven are examples. The ruin is great and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +complete. The blow that effected it was irresistible. It came in +the guise of charity and benevolence; it assumed the character +of the last and best friend of the peasantry, and it has struck +them to the heart. They are prostrate and helpless. The once +frolicksome people—even the saucy beggars—have disappeared, +and given place to wan and haggard objects, who are so resigned +to their doom that they no longer expect relief. One beholds only +shrunken frames, scarcely covered with flesh—crawling skeletons, +who appear to have risen from their graves, and are ready to +return frightened to that abode. They have little other covering +than that nature has bestowed on the human body—a poor protection +against inclement weather; and, now that the only hand +from which they expected help is turned against them, even hope +is departed, and they are filled with despair. Than the present +Earl of Carlisle there is not a more humane nor a kinder-hearted +nobleman in the kingdom; he is of high honour and unsullied +reputation; yet the poor-law he was mainly the means of establishing +for Ireland, with the best intentions, has been one of +the chief causes of the people being at this time turned out +of their homes, and forced to burrow in holes, and share, till +they are discovered, the ditches and the bogs with otters and +snipes.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The instant the poor-law was passed, and property was made +responsible for poverty, the whole of the land-owners, who had +before been careless about the people, and often allowed them to +plant themselves on untenanted spots, or divide their tenancies—delighted +to get the promise of a little additional rent—immediately +became deeply interested in preventing that, and in keeping +down the number of the people. Before they had rates to +pay, they cared nothing for them; but the law and their self-interest +made them care, and made them extirpators. Nothing +less than some general desire like that of cupidity falling in with +an enactment, and justified by a theory—nothing less than a +passion which works silently in all, and safely under the sanction +of a law—could have effected such wide-spread destruction. +Even humanity was enlisted by the poor-law on the side of extirpation. +As long as there was no legal provision for the poor, a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +landlord had some repugnance to drive them from every shelter; +but the instant the law took them under its protection, and forced +the land-owner to pay a rate to provide for them, repugnance +ceased: they had a legal home, however inefficient, to go to; and +eviction began. Even the growth of toleration seems to have +worked to the same end. Till the Catholics were emancipated, +they were all—rich and poor, priests and peasants—united by a +common bond; and Protestant landlords beginning evictions on +a great scale would have roused against them the whole Catholic +nation. It would have been taken up as a religious question, as +well as a question of the poor, prior to 1829. Subsequent to that +time—with a Whig administration, with all offices open to Catholics—no +religious feelings could mingle with the matter: eviction +became a pure question of interest; and while the priests look +now, perhaps, as much to the government as to their flocks for +support, Catholic landlords are not behind Protestant landlords +in clearing their estates."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The person from whom we make the above quotation +visited Ireland after the famine consequent upon the +failure of the potato crop had done its worst—in the +latter part of 1849. But famine seems to prevail, to a +certain extent, at all times, in that unhappy land—and +thus it is clear that the accidental failure of a crop has +less to do with the misery of the people than radical +misgovernment.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"To the Irish, such desolation is nothing new. They have long +been accustomed to this kind of skinning. Their history, ever since +it was written, teems with accounts of land forcibly taken from one +set of owners and given to another; of clearings and plantings +exactly similar in principle to that which is now going on; of +driving men from Leinster to Munster, from Munster to Connaught, +and from Connaught into the sea. Without going back +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +to ancient proscriptions and confiscations—all the land having +been, between the reign of Henry II. and William III. confiscated, +it is affirmed, three times over—we must mention that the +clearing so conspicuous in 1848 has now been going on for several +years. The total number of holdings in 1841, of above one +acre, and not exceeding five acres each, was 310,375; and, in +1847, they had been diminished to 125,926. In that single class +of holdings, therefore, 184,449, between 1841 and 1847 inclusive, +had been done away with, and 24,147 were extinguished in 1848. +Within that period, the number of farms of five acres and upward, +particularly of farms of thirty acres and upward, was increased +210,229, the latter class having increased by 108,474. +Little or no fresh land was broken up; and they, therefore, could +only have been formed by amassing in these larger farms numerous +small holdings. Before the year 1847, therefore, before +1846, when the potato rot worked so much mischief, even before +1845, the process of clearing the land, of putting down homesteads +and consolidating farms, had been carried to a great extent; +before any provision had been made by a poor-law for the +evicted families, before the turned-out labourers and little farmers +had even the workhouse for a refuge, multitudes had been continually +driven from their homes to a great extent, as in 1848. +The very process, therefore, on which government now relies for +the present relief and the future improvement of Ireland, was begun +and was carried to a great extent several years before the extremity +of distress fell upon it in 1846. We are far from saying +that the potato rot was caused by the clearing system; but, by +disheartening the people, by depriving them of security, by contributing +to their recklessness, by paralyzing their exertions, by +promoting outrages, that system undoubtedly aggravated all the +evils of that extraordinary visitation."—<i>Illustrated News</i>, October +13, 1849.</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The correspondent of the News saw from one +hundred and fifty to one hundred and eighty funerals +of victims to the want of food, the whole number +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +attended by not more than fifty persons. So hardened +were the men regularly employed in the removal of the +dead from the workhouse, that they would drive to the +churchyard sitting upon the coffins, and smoking with +apparent enjoyment. These men had evidently "supped +full of horrors." A funeral was no solemnity to them. +They had seen the wretched peasants in the madness of +starvation, and death had come as a soothing angel. +Why should the quieted sufferers be lamented?</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_303.jpg" id="i_303.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_303.jpg" + alt="" /> + <div class="caption">MULLIN'S HUT AT SCULL.</div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">A specimen of the in-door horrors of Scull may be +seen in the sketch of a hut of a poor man named Mullins, +who lay dying in a corner, upon a heap of straw +supplied by the Relief Committee, while his three +wretched children crouched over a few embers of turf, +as if to raise the last remaining spark of life. This +poor man, it appears, had buried his wife about five +days before, and was, in all probability, on the eve of +joining her, when he was found out by the efforts of +the vicar, who, for a few short days, saved him from +that which no kindness could ultimately avert. The +dimensions of Mullins's hut did not exceed ten feet +square, and the dirt and filth was ankle-deep upon the +floor.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Commander Caffin, the captain of the steam-sloop <i>Scourge</i>, +on the south coast of Ireland, has written a letter to a friend, +dated February 15, 1847, in which he gives a most distressing +and graphic account of the scenes he witnessed in the course of +his duty in discharging a cargo of meal at Scull. After stating +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +that three-fourths of the inhabitants carry a tale of wo in their +countenances, and are reduced to mere skeletons, he mentions the +result of what he saw while going through the parish with the +rector, Dr. Traill. He says—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Famine exists to a fearful degree, with all its horrors. Fever +has sprung up, consequent upon the wretchedness; and swellings +of limbs and body, and diarrhœa, upon the want of nourishment, +are everywhere to be found. Dr. Traill's parish is twenty-one +miles in extent, containing about eighteen thousand souls, with +not more than half a dozen gentlemen in the whole of it. He +drove me about five or six miles; but we commenced our visits +before leaving the village, and in no house that I entered was +there not to be found the dead or dying. In particularizing two or +three, they may be taken as the features of the whole. There was +no picking or choosing, but we took them just as they came.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The first which I shall mention was a cabin, rather above +the ordinary ones in appearance and comfort; in it were three +young women, and one young man, and three children, all +crouched over a fire—pictures of misery. Dr. Traill asked after +the father, upon which one of the girls opened a door leading into +another cabin, and there were the father and mother in bed; the +father the most wretched picture of starvation possible to conceive, +a skeleton with life, his power of speech gone; the mother +but a little better—her cries for mercy and food were heart-rending. +It was sheer destitution that had brought them to this. +They had been well to do in the world, with their cow, and few +sheep, and potato-ground. Their crops failed, and their cattle +were stolen; although, anticipating this, they had taken their +cow and sheep into the cabin with them every night, but they +were stolen in the daytime. The son had worked on the road, +and earned his 8<i>d.</i> a day, but this would not keep the family, and +he, from work and insufficiency of food, is laid up, and will soon +be as bad as his father. They had nothing to eat in the house, +and I could see no hope for any one of them.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'In another cabin we went into, a mother and her daughter +were there—the daughter emaciated, and lying against the wall—the +mother naked upon some straw on the ground, with a rug +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +over her—a most distressing object of misery. She writhed +about, and bared her limbs, in order to show her state of exhaustion. +She had wasted away until nothing but the skin +covered the bones—she cannot have survived to this time.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Another that I entered had, indeed, the appearance of +wretchedness without, but its inside was misery! Dr. Traill, on +putting his head inside the hole which answered for a door, said, +'Well, Philis, how is your mother to-day?—he having been with +her the day before—and was replied to, 'Oh, sir, is it you? +Mother is dead!' and there, fearful reality, was the daughter, a +skeleton herself, crouched and crying over the lifeless body of her +mother, which was on the floor, cramped up as she had died, with +her rags and her cloak about her, by the side of a few embers of +peat. In the next cabin were three young children belonging to +the daughter, whose husband had run away from her, all pictures +of death. The poor creature said she did not know what to do +with the corpse—she had no means of getting it removed, and +she was too exhausted to remove it herself: this cabin was about +three miles from the rectory. In another cabin, the door of +which was stopped with dung, was a poor woman whom we had +taken by surprise, as she roused up evidently much astonished. +She burst into tears upon seeing the doctor, and said she had not +been enabled to sleep since the corpse of the woman had lain in +her bed. This was a poor creature who was passing this miserable +cabin, and asked the old woman to allow her to rest herself +for a few moments, when she had laid down, but never rose up +again; she died in an hour or so, from sheer exhaustion. The +body had remained in this hovel of six feet square with the poor +old woman for four days, and she could not get anybody to +remove it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The letter proceeds:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I could in this manner take you through the thirty or more +cottages we visited; but they, without exception, were all alike—the +dead and the dying in each; and I could tell you more of the +truth of the heart-rending scene were I to mention the lamentations +and bitter cryings of each of these poor creatures on the +threshold of death. Never in my life have I seen such wholesale +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +misery, nor could I have thought it so complete.'"—<i>Illustrated +News</i>, February 20, 1847. [At this period, famine prevailed +throughout Ireland.]</p></div> + +<p class="i1">At the village of Mienils, a man named Leahey +perished during the great famine, with many circumstances +of horror. When too weak, from want of +food, to help himself, he was stretched in his filthy +hovel, when his famished dogs attacked and so mangled +him that he expired in intense agony. Can the history +of any other country present such terrible instances +of misery and starvation? The annals of Ireland have +been dark, indeed; and those who have wilfully cast +that gloom upon them, must emancipate Africans, and +evangelize the rest of mankind, for a century, at least, +to lay the ghosts of the murdered Irish.</p> + +<p class="i1">An Irish funeral of later days, with its attendant +circumstances of poverty and gloom, is truly calculated +to stir the sensitive heart of a poet. The obsequies +display the meagre results of attempts to bury +the dead with decency. The mourners are few, but +their grief is sincere; and they weep for the lost as +they would be wept for when Death, who is ever walking +by their side, lays his cold hand on them. During +the great famine, some poor wretches perished while +preparing funerals for their friends. In the following +verses, published in Howitt's Journal, of the 1st of April, +1847, we have a fine delineation of an Irish funeral, +such as only a poet could give:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="ac larger">AN IRISH FUNERAL.</p> + +<p class="ac">BY THE AUTHOR OF "ORION."</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="ac">"Funerals performed."—<i>London</i> Trades.</p> + +<p class="i1">"On Wednesday, the remains of a poor woman, who died of +hunger, were carried to their last resting-place by three women, +and a blind man the son-in-law of the deceased. The distance +between the wretched hut of the deceased and the grave-yard was +nearly three miles."—<i>Tuam Herald.</i></p></div> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">An old door's the hearse + </span></div> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Of the skeleton corpse, + </span></div> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">And three women bear it, + </span></div> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">With a blind man to + share it:</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Over flint, over bog,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">They stagger and jog:—</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">Weary, and hungry, and hopeless, + and cold,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">They slowly bear onward the + bones to the mould.</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Barefoot ye go,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Through the frost, through + the snow;</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Unsteady and slow,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Your hearts mad with + woe;</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">Bewailing and blessing the + poor rigid clod—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308] + </a></span></span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">The dear dead-and-cold one, + whose soul is with God.</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">This ruin and rod</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Are from man—and not God!</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Now out spake her sister,— + </span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">"Can we be quite sure</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Of the mercy of Heaven, + </span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Or that Death is Life's cure?</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">A cure for the misery, famine, + and pains,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">Which our cold rulers view as + the end of their gains?"</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">"In a land where's plenty," + </span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">The old mother said,—</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">"But not for poor creatures + </span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Who pawn rags and bed—</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">There's plenty for rich ones, + and those far away,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">Who drain off our life-blood, + so thoughtless and gay!"</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Then wailed the third + woman—</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">"The darling was worth</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">The rarest of jewels + </span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">That shine upon earth.</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">When hunger was gnawing + her—wasted and wild—</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">She shared her last morsel + with my little child."</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">"O Christ!" pray'd the blind + man,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">"We are not so poor,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-4"><span style="font-size:larger;">Though we bend 'neath the dear + weight</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">That crushes this door;</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">For we know that the grave is + the first step to Heaven,</span></div> + <div class="verse indent-8"><span style="font-size:larger;">And a birthright we have in the + riches there given."</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Heavily plod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Highroad and sod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">With the cold corpse clod,</span></div> + <div class="verse"><span style="font-size:larger;">Whose soul is with God!</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">What wonder if the evicted peasants of Ireland, +made desperate by the tyranny of the landlords, sometimes +make "a law unto themselves," and slay their +oppressors! Rebellion proves manhood under such +circumstances. Instances of landlords being murdered +by evicted tenants are numerous. In the following +sketch we have a vivid illustration of this phase +of Irish life:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The moorland was wide, level, and black; black as night, if +you could suppose night condensed on the surface of the earth, and +that you could tread on solid darkness in the midst of day. The +day itself was fast dropping into night, although it was dreary and +gloomy at the best; for it was a November day. The moor, for +miles around, was treeless and houseless; devoid of vegetation, +except heather, which clad with its gloomy frieze coat the shivering +landscape. At a distance you could discern, through the misty +atmosphere, the outline of mountains apparently as bare and stony +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +as this wilderness, which they bounded. There were no fields, no +hedgerows, no marks of the hand of man, except the nakedness +itself, which was the work of man in past ages; when, period after +period, he had tramped over the scene with fire and sword, and +left all that could not fly before him, either ashes to be scattered +by the savage winds, or stems of trees, and carcasses of men trodden +into the swampy earth. As the Roman historians said of +other destroyers, 'They created solitude, and called it peace.' +That all this was the work of man, and not of Nature, any one +spot of this huge and howling wilderness could testify, if you would +only turn up its sable surface. In its bosom lay thousands of ancient +oaks and pines, black as ebony; which told, by their gigantic +bulk, that forests must have once existed on this spot, as rich as +the scene was now bleak. Nobler things than trees lay buried +there; but were, for the most part, resolved into the substance of +the inky earth. The dwellings of men had left few or no traces, +for they had been consumed in flames; and the hearts that had +loved, and suffered, and perished beneath the hand of violence and +insult, were no longer human hearts, but slime. If a man were +carried blindfold to that place, and asked when his eyes were unbandaged +where he was, he would say—'Ireland!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"He would want no clue to the identity of the place, but the +scene before him. There is no heath like an Irish heath. There +is no desolation like an Irish desolation. Where Nature herself +has spread the expanse of a solitude, it is a cheerful solitude. The +air flows over it lovingly: the flowers nod and dance in gladness; +the soil breathes up a spirit of wild fragrance, which communicates +a buoyant sensation to the heart. You feel that you tread on +ground where the peace of God, and not the 'peace' of man created +in the merciless hurricane of war, has sojourned: where the sun +shone on creatures sporting on ground or on tree, as the Divine +Goodness of the Universe meant them to sport: where the hunter +disturbed alone the enjoyment of the lower animals by his own +boisterous joy: where the traveller sang as he went over it, because +he felt a spring of inexpressible music in his heart: where the +weary wayfarer sat beneath a bush, and blessed God, though his +limbs ached with travel, and his goal was far off. In God's deserts +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +dwells gladness; in man's deserts, death. A melancholy smites +you as you enter them. There is a darkness from the past that +envelopes your heart, and the moans and sighs of ten-times perpetrated +misery seem still to live in the very winds.</p> + +<p class="i1">"One shallow and widely spread stream struggled through the +moor; sometimes between masses of gray stone. Sedges and the +white-headed cotton-rush whistled on its margin, and on island-like +expanses that here and there rose above the surface of its middle +course.</p> + +<p class="i1">"I have said that there was no sign of life; but on one of those +gray stones stood a heron watching for prey. He had remained +straight, rigid, and motionless for hours. Probably his appetite +was appeased by his day's success among the trout of that dark +red-brown stream, which was coloured by the peat from which it +oozed. When he did move, he sprang up at once, stretched his +broad wings, and silent as the scene around him, made a circuit +in the air; rising higher as he went, with slow and solemn flight. +He had been startled by a sound. There was life in the desert now. +Two horsemen came galloping along a highway not far distant, and +the heron, continuing his grave gyrations, surveyed them as he +went. Had they been travellers over a plain of India, an Austrian +waste, or the pampas of South America, they could not have been +grimmer of aspect, or more thoroughly children of the wild. They +were Irish from head to foot.</p> + +<p class="i1">"They were mounted on two spare but by no means clumsy +horses. The creatures had marks of blood and breed that had +been introduced by the English to the country. They could claim, +if they knew it, lineage of Arabia. The one was a pure bay, the +other and lesser, was black; but both were lean as death, haggard +as famine. They were wet with the speed with which they had +been hurried along. The soil of the damp moorland, or of the field +in which, during the day, they had probably been drawing the +peasant's cart, still smeared their bodies, and their manes flew as +wildly and untrimmed as the sedge or the cotton-rush on the wastes +through which they careered. Their riders, wielding each a heavy +stick instead of a riding-whip, which they applied ever and anon to +the shoulders or flanks of their smoking animals, were mounted on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> +their bare backs, and guided them by halter instead of bridle. They +were a couple of the short frieze-coated, knee-breeches and gray-stocking +fellows who are as plentiful on Irish soil as potatoes. +From beneath their narrow-brimmed, old, weather-beaten hats, +streamed hair as unkemped as their horses' manes. The Celtic +physiognomy was distinctly marked—the small and somewhat upturned +nose; the black tint of skin; the eye now looking gray, now +black; the freckled cheek, and sandy hair. Beard and whiskers +covered half the face, and the short square-shouldered bodies were +bent forward with eager impatience, as they thumped and kicked +along their horses, muttering curses as they went.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The heron, sailing on broad and seemingly slow vans, still kept +them in view. Anon, they reached a part of the moorland where +traces of human labour were visible. Black piles of peat stood on +the solitary ground, ready, after a summer's cutting and drying. +Presently patches of cultivation presented themselves; plots of +ground raised on beds, each a few feet wide, with intervening +trenches to carry off the boggy water, where potatoes had grown, and +small fields where grew more stalks of ragwort than grass, inclosed +by banks cast up and tipped here and there with a brier or a stone. +It was the husbandry of misery and indigence. The ground had +already been freshly manured by sea-weeds, but the village—where +was it? Blotches of burnt ground, scorched heaps of rubbish, +and fragments of blackened walls, alone were visible. Garden-plots +were trodden down, and their few bushes rent up, or hung +with tatters of rags. The two horsemen, as they hurried by with +gloomy visages, uttered no more than a single word: 'Eviction!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Further on, the ground heaved itself into a chaotic confusion. +Stony heaps swelled up here and there, naked, black, and barren: +the huge bones of the earth protruded themselves through her skin. +Shattered rocks arose, sprinkled with bushes, and smoke curled +up from what looked like mere heaps of rubbish, but which were +in reality human habitations. Long dry grass hissed and rustled +in the wind on their roofs, (which were sunk by-places, as if falling +in;) and pits of reeking filth seemed placed exactly to prevent access +to some of the low doors; while to others, a few stepping-stones +made that access only possible. Here the two riders stopped, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +hurriedly tying their steeds to an elder-bush, disappeared in one +of the cabins.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The heron slowly sailed on to the place of its regular roost. +Let us follow it.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Far different was this scene to those the bird had left. Lofty +trees darkened the steep slopes of a fine river. Rich meadows lay +at the feet of woods and stretched down to the stream. Herds of +cattle lay on them, chewing their cuds after the plentiful grazing +of the day. The white walls of a noble house peeped, in the dusk +of night, through the fertile timber which stood in proud guardianship +of the mansion; and broad winding walks gave evidence of a +place where nature and art had combined to form a paradise. +There were ample pleasure-grounds. Alas! the grounds around +the cabins over which the heron had so lately flown, might be truly +styled pain-grounds.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Within that home was assembled a happy family. There was +the father, a fine-looking man of forty. Proud you would have +deemed him, as he sate for a moment abstracted in his cushioned +chair; but a moment afterward, as a troop of children came +bursting into the room, his manner was instantly changed into one +so pleasant, so playful, and so overflowing with enjoyment, that +you saw him only as an amiable, glad, domestic man. The mother, +a handsome woman, was seated already at the tea-table; and, +in another minute, sounds of merry voices and childish laughter +were mingled with the jocose tones of the father, and the playful +accents of the mother; addressed, now to one, now to another of +the youthful group.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In due time the merriment was hushed, and the household +assembled for evening prayer. A numerous train of servants assumed +their accustomed places. The father read. He had paused +once or twice, and glanced with a stern and surprised expression +toward the group of domestics, for he heard sounds that astonished +him from one corner of the room near the door. He went on—Remember +the children of Edom, O Lord, in the day of judgment, +how they said, Down with it, down with it, even to the ground. +O daughter of Babylon, wasted with misery, yea, happy shall he be +who rewardeth thee, as thou hast served us!"</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"There was a burst of smothered sobs from the same corner, +and the master's eye flashed with a strange fire as he again darted +a glance toward the offender. The lady looked equally surprised, +in the same direction; then turned a meaning look on her husband—a +warm flush was succeeded by a paleness in her countenance, +and she cast down her eyes. The children wondered, but were +still. Once more the father's sonorous voice continued—'Give us +this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive +them that trespass against us.' Again the stifled sound was +repeated. The brow of the master darkened again—the mother +looked agitated; the children's wonder increased; the master closed +the book, and the servants, with a constrained silence, retired from +the room.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What <i>can</i> be the matter with old Dennis?' exclaimed the lady, +the moment that the door had closed on the household.—'Oh! what +<i>is</i> amiss with poor old Dennis!' exclaimed the children.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Some stupid folly or other,' said the father, morosely. +'Come! away to bed, children. You can learn Dennis's troubles +another time.' The children would have lingered, but again the +words, 'Away with you!' in a tone which never needed repetition, +were decisive: they kissed their parents and withdrew. In a few +seconds the father rang the bell. 'Send Dennis Croggan here.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The old man appeared. He was a little thin man, of not less +than seventy years of age, with white hair and a dark spare countenance. +He was one of those nondescript servants in a large +Irish house, whose duties are curiously miscellaneous. He had, +however, shown sufficient zeal and fidelity through a long life, to +secure a warm nook in the servants' hall for the remainder of his +days.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Dennis entered with an humble and timid air, as conscious +that he had deeply offended; and had to dread at least a severe +rebuke. He bowed profoundly to both the master and mistress.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What is the meaning of your interruptions during the prayers, +Dennis?' demanded the master abruptly. 'Has any thing +happened to you?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No, sir.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Any thing amiss in your son's family?'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'No, your honour.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The interrogator paused; a storm of passion seemed slowly +gathering within him. Presently he asked in a loud tone, 'What +does this mean? Was there no place to vent your nonsense in, +but in this room, and at prayers?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Dennis was silent. He cast an imploring look at the master, +then at the mistress.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What is the matter, good Dennis?' asked the lady, in a kind +tone. 'Compose yourself, and tell us. Something strange must +have happened to you.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Dennis trembled violently; but he advanced a couple of paces, +seized the back of a chair as if to support him, and, after a vain +gasp or two, declared, as intelligibly as fear would permit, that the +prayer had overcome him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Nonsense, man!' exclaimed the master, with fury in the same +face, which was so lately beaming with joy on the children. 'Nonsense! +Speak out without more ado, or you shall rue it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Dennis looked to the mistress as if he would have implored +her intercession; but as she gave no sign of it, he was compelled +to speak; but in a brogue that would have been unintelligible to +English ears. We therefore translate it:</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I could not help thinking of the poor people at Rathbeg, when +the soldiers and police cried, "Down with them! down with them, +even to the ground!" and then the poor bit cabins came down all +in fire and smoke, amid the howls and cries of the poor creatures.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Oh! it was a fearful sight, your honour—it was, indeed—to see +the poor women hugging their babies, and the houses where they +were born burning in the wind. It was dreadful to see the old +bedridden man lie on the wet ground among the few bits of furniture, +and groan to his gracious God above. Oh, your honour! you +never saw such a sight, or—you—sure a—it would never have +been done!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Dennis seemed to let the last words out as if they were jerked +from him by a sudden shock.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The master, whose face had changed during this speech to a +livid hue of passion, his eyes blazing with rage, was in the act +of rushing on old Dennis, when he was held back by his wife, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +who exclaimed, 'Oswald! be calm; let us hear what Dennis has +to say. Go on, Dennis, go on.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The master stood still, breathing hard to overcome his rage. +Old Dennis, as if seeing only his own thoughts, went on: 'O, +bless your honour, if you had seen that poor frantic woman when +the back of the cabin fell and buried her infant, where she thought +she had laid it safe for a moment while she flew to part her husband +and a soldier who had struck the other children with the +flat of his sword, and bade them to troop off. Oh, your honour, +but it was a killing sight. It was that came over me in the +prayer, and I feared that we might be praying perdition on us +all, when we prayed about our trespasses. If the poor creatures +of Rathbeg should meet us, your honour, at Heaven's gate (I was +thinking) and say—These are the heathens that would not let us +have a poor hearth-stone in poor ould Ireland.—And that was all, +your honour, that made me misbehave so; I was just thinking +of that, and I could not help it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Begone, you old fool!' exclaimed the master; and Dennis +disappeared with a bow and an alertness that would have done +credit to his earlier years.</p> + +<p class="i1">"There was a moment's silence after his exit. The lady turned +to her husband, and clasping his arm with her hands and looking +into his darkened countenance with a look of tenderest anxiety, +said:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Dearest Oswald, let me, as I have so often done, once more +entreat that these dreadful evictions may cease. Surely there +must be some way to avert them and to set your property right, +without such violent measures.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The stern proud man said, 'Then why, in the name of Heaven, +do you not reveal some other remedy? why do you not enlighten +all Ireland? why don't you instruct Government? The +unhappy wretches who have been swept away by force are no +people, no tenants of mine; they squatted themselves down, as a +swarm of locusts fix themselves while a green blade is left; they +obstruct all improvement; they will not till the ground themselves, +nor will they quit it to allow me to provide more industrious +and provident husbandmen to cultivate it. Land that teems +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +with fertility, and is shut out from hearing and bringing forth +food for man, is accursed. Those who have been evicted not only +rob me, but their more industrious fellows.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'They will murder us,' said the wife, 'some day for these +things. They will—'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Her words were cut short suddenly by her husband starting, +and standing in a listening attitude. 'Wait a moment,' he said, +with a peculiar calmness, as if he had just got a fresh thought; +and his lady, who did not comprehend what was the cause, but +hoped that some better influence was touching him, unloosed her +hands from his arm. 'Wait just a moment,' he repeated, and +stepped from the room, opened the front door, and, without his +hat, went out.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'He is intending to cool down his anger,' thought his wife; +'he feels a longing for the freshness of the air,' But she had not +caught the sound which had startled his quicker, because more +excited ear; she had been too much engrossed by her own intercession +with him; it was a peculiar whine from the mastiff, which +was chained near the lodge-gate, that had arrested his attention. +He stepped out. The black clouds which overhung the moor had +broken, and the moon's light straggled between them.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The tall and haughty man stood erect in the breeze and listened. +Another moment-there was a shot, and he fell headlong +upon the broad steps on which he stood. His wife sprang with a +piercing shriek from the door and fell on his corpse. A crowd +of servants gathered about them, making wild lamentations and +breathing vows of vengeance. The murdered master and the wife +were borne into the house.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The heron soared from its lofty perch, and wheeled with terrified +wings through the night air. The servants armed themselves, +and, rushing furiously from the house, traversed the surrounding +masses of trees; fierce dogs were let loose, and dashed +frantically through the thickets: all was, however, too late. The +soaring heron saw gray figures, with blackened faces, stealing +away—often on their hands and knees—down the hollows of the +moorlands toward the village, where the two Irish horsemen had, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +in the first dusk of that evening, tied their lean steeds to the old +elder bush.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Near the mansion no lurking assassin was to be found. Meanwhile +two servants, pistol in hand, on a couple of their master's +horses, scoured hill and dale. The heron, sailing solemnly on +the wind above, saw them halt in a little town. They thundered +with the butt-ends of their pistols on a door in the principal street; +over it there was a coffin-shaped board, displaying a painted crown +and the big-lettered words, '<span class="sc">Police Station</span>.' The mounted servants +shouted with might and main. A night-capped head issued +from a chamber casement with—'What is the matter?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Out with you, police! out with all your strength, and lose +not a moment. Mr. FitzGibbon, of Sporeen, is shot at his own +door.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The casement was hastily clapped to, and the two horsemen +galloped forward up the long, broad street, now flooded with the +moon's light. Heads full of terror were thrust from upper windows +to inquire the cause of that rapid galloping, but ever too +late. The two men held their course up a steep hill outside of +the town, where stood a vast building overlooking the whole place; +it was the barracks. Here the alarm was also given.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In less than an hour a mounted troop of police in olive-green +costume, with pistols at holster, sword by side, and carbine on the +arm, were trotting briskly out of town, accompanied by the two +messengers, whom they plied with eager questions. These answered, +and sundry imprecations vented, the whole party increased +their speed, and went on, mile after mile, by hedgerow and open +moorland, talking as they went.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Before they reached the house of Sporeen, and near the village +where the two Irish horsemen had stopped the evening before, +they halted and formed themselves into more orderly array. A +narrow gully was before them on the road, hemmed in on each +side by rocky steeps, here and there overhung with bushes. The +commandant bade them be on their guard, for there might be +danger there. He was right; for the moment they began to trot +through the pass, the flash and rattle of firearms from the thickets +above saluted them, followed by a wild yell. In a second, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> +several of their number lay dead or dying in the road. The fire +was returned promptly by the police, but it was at random; for, +although another discharge and another howl announced that the +enemy were still there, no one could be seen. The head of the +police commanded his troops to make a dash through the pass; +for there was no scaling the heights from this side, the assailants +having warily posted themselves there, because at the foot of the +eminence were stretched on either hand impassable bogs. The +troop dashed forward, firing their pistols as they went, but were +met by such deadly discharges of firearms as threw them into +confusion, killed and wounded several of their horses, and made +them hastily retreat.</p> + +<p class="i1">"There was nothing for it but to await the arrival of the cavalry; +and it was not long before the clatter of horses' hoofs and +the ringing of sabres were heard on the road. On coming up, +the troop of cavalry, firing to the right and left on the hillsides, +dashed forward, and, in the same instant, cleared the gully in +safety, the police having kept their side of the pass. In fact, not +a single shot was returned, the arrival of this strong force having +warned the insurgents to decamp. The cavalry, in full charge, +ascended the hills to their summits. Not a foe was to be seen, +except one or two dying men, who were discovered by their groans.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The moon had been for a time quenched in a dense mass of +clouds, which now were blown aside by a keen and cutting wind. +The heron, soaring over the desert, could now see gray-coated +men flying in different directions to the shelter of the neighbouring +hills. The next day he was startled from his dreamy reveries +near the moorland stream, by the shouts and galloping of mingled +police and soldiers, as they gave chase to a couple of haggard, +bare-headed, and panting peasants. These were soon captured, +and at once recognised as belonging to the evicted inhabitants of +the recently deserted village.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Since then years have rolled on. The heron, who had been +startled from his quiet haunts by these things, was still dwelling +on the lofty tree with his kindred, by the hall of Sporeen. He +had reared family after family in that airy lodgment, as spring +after spring came round; but no family, after that fatal time, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +had ever tenanted the mansion. The widow and children had +fled from it so soon as Mr. FitzGibbon had been laid in the grave. +The nettle and dock flourished over the scorched ruins of the village +of Rathbeg; dank moss and wild grass tangled the proud +drives and walks of Sporeen. All the woodland rides and pleasure-grounds +lay obstructed with briers; and young trees in time +grew luxuriantly where once the roller in its rounds could not +crush a weed; the nimble frolics of the squirrel were now the +only merry things where formerly the feet of lovely children had +sprung with elastic joy.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The curse of Ireland was on the place. Landlord and tenant, +gentleman and peasant, each with the roots and the shoots of +many virtues in their hearts, thrown into a false position by the +mutual injuries of ages, had wreaked on each other the miseries +sown broadcast by their ancestors. Beneath this foul spell men +who would, in any other circumstances, have been the happiest +and the noblest of mankind, became tyrants; and peasants, who +would have glowed with grateful affection toward them, exulted +in being their assassins. As the traveller rode past the decaying +hall, the gloomy woods, and waste black moorlands of Sporeen, +he read the riddle of Ireland's fate, and asked himself when an +Œdipus would arise to solve it."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">A large number of the peasantry of Connemara, a +rocky and romantic region, are among the most recent +evictions.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"These hardy mountaineers, whose lives, and the lives of their +fathers and great-grandfathers have been spent in reclaiming the +barren hills where their hard lot has been cast, were the victims +of a series of oppressions unparalleled in the annals of Irish misrule. +They were thickly planted over the rocky surface of Connemara +for political purposes. In the days of the 40<i>s.</i> freeholder, +they were driven to the hustings like a flock of sheep, to register +not alone one vote, but in many instances three or four votes each; +and it was no uncommon thing to see those unfortunate serfs +evicted from their holdings when an election had terminated— +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +not that they refused to vote according to the wish of their landlords, +but because they did not go far enough in the sin of perjury +and the diabolical crime of impersonation. When they +ceased to possess any political importance, they were cast away +like broken tools. It was no uncommon thing, in the wilds of +Connemara, to see the peasantry, after an election, coming before +the Catholic Archbishop, when holding a visitation of his diocese, +to proclaim openly the crime of impersonation which their landlords +compelled them to commit, and implore forgiveness for +such. Of this fact we have in the town of Galway more than one +living witness; so that, while every thing was done, with few exceptions, +to demoralize the peasantry of Connemara, and plant in +their souls the germs of that slavery which is so destructive to +the growth of industry, enterprise, or manly exertion—no compassion +for their wants was ever evinced—no allowance for their +poverty and inability to meet the rack-renting demands of their +landlords was ever made."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Perhaps, it requires no Œdipus to tell what will be +the future of the Irish nation, if the present system of +slavery is maintained by their English conquerors. If +they do not cease to exist as a people, they will continue +to quaff the dark waters of sorrow, and to pay a +price, terrible to think of, for the mere privilege of +existence.</p> + +<p class="i1">During the famine of 1847, the heartlessness of many +Irish landlords was manifested by their utter indifference +to the multitudes starving around their well-supplied +mansions. At that period, the Rev. A. King, of Cork, +wrote to the Southern Reporter as follows:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The town and the surrounding country for many miles are +possessed by twenty-six proprietors, whose respective yearly incomes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> +vary from one hundred pounds, or less, to several thousands. +They had all been respectfully informed of the miserable +condition of the people, and solicited to give relief. Seventeen of +the number had not the politeness to answer the letters of the +committee, four had written to say they would not contribute, and +the remaining five had given a miserable fraction of what they +ought to have contributed. My first donation from a small +portion of a small relief fund, received from English strangers, +exceeded the aggregate contributions of six-and-twenty landed +proprietors, on whose properties human beings were perishing +from famine, filth, and disease, amid circumstances of wretchedness +appalling to humanity and disgraceful to civilized men! I +believe it my sacred duty to gibbet this atrocity in the press, and +to call on benevolent persons to loathe it as a monster crime. +Twenty-one owners of property, on which scores, nay hundreds, +of their fellow-creatures are dying of hunger, give nothing to save +their lives! Are they not virtually guilty of wholesale murder? +I ask not what human law may decide upon their acts, but in the +name of Christianity I arraign them as guilty of treason against +the rights of humanity and the laws of God!"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">It is to escape the responsibility mentioned by Mr. +King, as well as to avoid the payment of poor-rates, that +the landlords resort to the desolating process of eviction. +To show the destructive nature of the tyrannical +system that has so long prevailed in Ireland, we will +take an abstract of the census of 1841 and 1851.</p> + +<table id="CENSUS" summary="Census of 1841 and 1851"> + <tr> + <th></th> + <th></th> + <th style="text-align:center;">1841</th> + <th></th> + <th style="text-align:center;">1851</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Houses:</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Inhabited</td> + <td class="c3">1,328,839</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">1,047,935</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Uninhabited, built</td> + <td class="c3">52,203</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">65,159</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">"</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">"<span style="padding-left:2.5em;">building + </span></td> + <td class="c3">3,318</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">2,113</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c3">————</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">————</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">Total</td> + <td class="c3">1,384,360</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">1,115,207</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Families</td> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c3">1,472,287</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">1,207,002</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Persons:</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Males</td> + <td class="c3">4,019,576</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">3,176,727 <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a> + </span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">"</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Females</td> + <td class="c3">4,155,548</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">3,339,067</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c3">————</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">————</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">Total</td> + <td class="c3">8,175,124</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">6,515,794</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Population in 1841</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">8,175,124</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">"<span style="padding-left:2.5em;">1851</span></td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">6,515,794</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">————</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">Decrease</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">1,659,330</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="c1">Or, at the rate of 20 per cent.</td> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:2.5em;">Population in 1821</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">6,801,827</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">"<span style="padding-left:2.5em;">1831</span></td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">7,767,401</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">"<span style="padding-left:2.5em;">1841</span></td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">8,175,124</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">"<span style="padding-left:2.5em;">1851</span></td> + <td class="c3"></td> + <td class="c3">6,515,794</td> + <td class="c3"></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p> +Or, 286,030 souls fewer than in 1821, thirty years ago.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="i1">"We shall impress the disastrous importance of the reduction +in the number of the people on our readers, by placing before +them a brief account of the previous progress of the population. +There is good reason to suppose, that, prior to the middle of the +last century, the people continually, though slowly, increased; but +from that time something like authentic but imperfect records give +the following as their numbers at successive periods:—</p> + +<table class="narrow" id="POPULATION_INCREASE" summary="Population Increase"> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1754</td> + <td class="c2">2,372,634</td> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1767</td> + <td class="c2">2,544,276</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">Increase per cent.</td> + <td class="c2">7·2</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1777</td> + <td class="c2">2,690,556</td> + <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td> + <td class="c2">5·7</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1785</td> + <td class="c2">2,845,932</td> + <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td> + <td class="c2">5·8</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1805</td> + <td class="c2">5,359,456</td> + <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td> + <td class="c2">84·0</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1813</td> + <td class="c2">5,937,858</td> + <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td> + <td class="c2">10·8</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1821</td> + <td class="c2">6,801,829</td> + <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td> + <td class="c2">14·6</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1831</td> + <td class="c2">7,767,401</td> + <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td> + <td class="c2">14·9</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1841</td> + <td class="c2">8,175,124</td> + <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:7em;">"</span></td> + <td class="c2">5·3</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1851</td> + <td class="c2">6,515,794</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:5em;">Decrease</td> + <td class="c2">20·0</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p class="i1">"Though there are some discrepancies in these figures, and probably +the number assigned to 1785 is too small, and that assigned +to 1805 too large, they testify uniformly to a continual increase of +the people for eighty-seven years, from 1754 to 1841. Now, for +the first time in nearly a century, a complete change has set in, +and the population has decreased in the last ten years 20 per cent. +It is 1,659,330 less than in 1841, and less by 286,033 than in 1821.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"But this is not quite all. The census of 1851 was taken 68 days +earlier than the census of 1841; and it is obvious, if the same rate +of decrease continued through those 68 days, as has prevailed on +the average through the ten years, that the whole amount of decrease +would be so much greater. Sixty-eight days is about the +54th part of ten years—say the 50th part; and the 50th part of +the deficiency is 33,000 odd—say 30,000. We must add 30,000, +therefore, to the 1,659,330, making 1,689,330, to get the true +amount of the diminution of the people in ten years.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Instead of the population increasing in a healthy manner, implying +an increase in marriages, in families, and in all the affections +connected with them, and implying an increase in general +prosperity, as for nearly a century before, and now amounting, +as we might expect, to 8,600,000, it is 2,000,000 less. This is a +disastrous change in the life of the Irish. At this downward rate, +decreasing 20 per cent. in ten years, five such periods would suffice +to exterminate the whole population more effectually than the Indians +have been exterminated from North America. Fifty years +of this new career would annihilate the whole population of Ireland, +and turn the land into an uninhabited waste. This is a +terrible reverse in the condition of a people, and is the more +remarkable because in the same period the population of Great +Britain has increased 12 per cent., and because there is no other +example of a similar decay in any part of Europe in the same +time, throughout which the population has continued to increase, +though not everywhere equally, nor so fast as in Great Britain. +Indeed, it may be doubted whether the annals of mankind can +supply, in a season of peace—when no earthquakes have toppled +down cities, no volcanoes have buried them beneath their ashes, +and no inroads of the ocean have occurred—such wholesale diminution +of the population and desolation of the country.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The inhabited houses in Ireland have decreased from 1,328,839 +in 1841 to 1,047,735 in 1851, or 281,104, (21·2 per cent.,) and +consequently more than the population, who are now worse lodged +and more crowded in relation to houses than they were in 1841. +As the uninhabited houses have increased only 12,951, no less +than 268,153 houses must have been destroyed in the ten years. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +That informs us of the extent of the 'clearances' of which we +have heard so much of late; and the 1,659,300 people less in the +country is an index to the number of human beings who inhabited +the houses destroyed. We must remember, too, that within the +period a number of union workhouses have been built in Ireland, +capable of accommodating 308,885 persons, and that, besides the +actual diminution of the number of the people, there has been a +change in their habits, about 300,000 having become denizens of +workhouses, who, prior to 1841, lived in their own separate huts. +With distress and destruction pauperism has also increased.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The decrease has not been equal for the males and females; +the numbers were as follows.—</p> + +<table class="narrow" id="POPULATION_DECREASE" summary="Population Decrease"> + <tr> + <th class="c1"></th> + <th class="c2" style="text-align:center;">1841</th> + <th class="c2" style="text-align:center;">1851</th> + <th class="c2"></th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Males</td> + <td class="c2">4,019,576</td> + <td class="c2">3,176,124</td> + <td class="c2">Decrease 20·9 per cent.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">Females</td> + <td class="c2">4,155,548</td> + <td class="c2">3,336,067</td> + <td class="c2"><span style="padding-right:1.2em;">"</span><span + style="padding-right:1.0em;">29·6</span> <span style="padding-right:2em;">"</span></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p class="i1">"The females now exceed the males by 162,943, or 2 per cent. +on the whole population. It is not, however, that the mortality +has been greater among the males than the females, but that more +of the former than of the latter have escaped from the desolation.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Another important feature of the returns is the increase of +the town population:—Dublin, 22,124, or 9 per cent.; Belfast, +24,352, or 32 per cent.; Galway, 7422, or 43 per cent.; Cork, +5765, or 7 per cent. Altogether, the town population has increased +71,928, or nearly 1 per cent., every town except Londonderry +displaying the same feature; and that increase makes the +decrease of the rural population still more striking. The whole +decrease is of the agricultural classes: Mr. O'Connell's 'finest +pisantry' are the sufferers."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The London Illustrated News, in an article upon the +census, says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The causes of the decay of the people, subordinate to inefficient +employment and to wanting commerce and manufactures, +are obviously great mortality, caused by the destruction of the +potatoes and the consequent want of food, the clearance system, +and emigration. From the retarded increase of the population +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +between 1831 and 1841—only 5·3 per cent., while in the previous +ten years it had been nearly 15 per cent.—it may be inferred +that the growth of the population was coming to a stand-still +before 1841, and that the late calamities only brought it down to +its means of continued subsistence, according to the distribution +of property and the occupations of the people. The potato rot, +in 1846, was a somewhat severer loss of that root than had before +fallen on the Irish, who have suffered occasionally from famines +ever since their history began; and it fell so heavily on them +then, because they were previously very much and very generally +impoverished. Thousands, and even millions, of them subsisted +almost exclusively on lumpers, the very worst kind of potatoes, +and were reduced in health and strength when they were overtaken +by the dearth of 1846. The general smallness of their +consumption, and total abstinence from the use of tax paying +articles, is made painfully apparent by the decrease of the population +of Ireland having had no sensible influence in reducing the +revenue. They were half starved while alive. Another remarkable +fact which we must notice is, that, while the Irish population +have thus been going to decay, the imports and exports of the +empire have increased in a much more rapid ratio than the +population of Great Britain. For them, therefore, exclusively, is +the trade of the empire carried on, and the Irish who have been +swept away, without lessening the imports and exports, have had +no share in our commerce. It is from these facts apparent, that, +while they have gone to decay, the population of Great Britain +have increased their well-being and their enjoyments much more +than their numbers. We need not remind our readers of the +dreadful sufferings of the Irish in the years 1847, 1848, and 1849; +for the accounts we then published of them were too melancholy +to be forgotten. As an illustration, we may observe that the +Irish Poor-law Commissioners, in their fourth report, dated May +5, 1851, boast that the 'worst evils of the famine, such as the +occurrence of <i>deaths by the wayside</i>, a high rate of mortality in +the workhouses, and the prevalence of dangerous and contagious +diseases in or out of the workhouse, have undergone a very material +abatement.' There have been, then, numerous deaths by +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +the wayside, alarming contagious diseases, and great mortality +in the workhouses."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The Poor-law Commissioners kept a most mysterious +silence during the worst period of the famine; and, it +was only when the horrors of that time were known to +the whole civilized world that they reported the "abatement +of the evils." Perhaps, they had become so accustomed +to witnessing misery in Ireland that even the +famine years did not startle them into making a +humane appeal to the British government upon behalf +of the sufferers.</p> + +<p class="i1">The Illustrated News, in the same article we have +quoted above, says, quite sensibly, but with scarcely a +due appreciation of the causes of Ireland's decay—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The decline of the population has been greatest in Connaught; +now the Commissioners tell us that in 1847 the maximum rate +of mortality in the workhouses of that province was 43.6 per +week in a thousand persons, so that in about 23 weeks at this +rate the whole 1000 would be dead. The maximum rate of +mortality in all the workhouses in that year was 25 per 1000 +weekly, or the whole 1000 would die in something more than 39 +weeks. That was surely a very frightful mortality. It took place +among that part of the population for which room was found in +the workhouses; and among the population out of the workhouses +perishing by the wayside, the mortality must have been still more +frightful. We are happy to believe, on the assurance of the commissioners, +that matters are now improved, that workhouse accommodation +is to be had—with one exception, Kilrush—for all +who need it; that the expense of keeping the poor is diminished; +that contagious disorders are less frequent, and that the rate of +mortality has much declined. But the statement that such improvements +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +have taken place, implies the greatness of the past +sufferings. There can be no doubt, therefore, that the decay of +the population has partly arisen from increased mortality on the +one hand, and from decreasing marriages and decreasing births +on the other. Now that the Irish have a poor-law fairly administered, +we may expect that, in future, such terrible scenes as were +witnessed in 1847-49 will not again occur. But the state which +authorized the landlords, by a law, to clear their estates of the +peasantry, as if they were vermin, destroying, as we have seen, +268,153 dwellings, without having previously imposed on those +landlords the obligation of providing for the people, did a great +wrong, and the decay of the people now testifies against it.</p> + +<p class="i1">"With reference to emigration—the least objectionable mode of +getting rid of a population—there are no correct returns kept of +the number of Irish who emigrate, because a great part of them +go from Liverpool, and are set down in the returns as emigrants +from England. It is supposed by those best acquainted with the +subject, that more than nine-tenths of the emigrants from Liverpool +are Irish. Taking that proportion, therefore, and adding it +to the emigrants who proceed direct from Ireland, the number +of Irish emigrants from 1842 to the present year was—</p> + +<table class="narrow" id="POPULATION_DECREASE-2" summary="Population Decrease"> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1843</td> + <td class="c2">39,549</td> + <td class="c1">│</td> + <td class="c1">1847</td> + <td class="c2">214,970</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1844</td> + <td class="c2">55,910</td> + <td class="c1">│</td> + <td class="c1">1848</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1845</td> + <td class="c2">177,720</td> + <td class="c1">│</td> + <td class="c1">1849</td> + <td class="c2">208,759</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1846</td> + <td class="c2">106,767</td> + <td class="c1">│</td> + <td class="c1">1850</td> + <td class="c2">207,853</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c2">————</td> + <td class="c1">│</td> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c2">————</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:1em;">Total, 4 years,</span></td> + <td class="c2">278,749</td> + <td class="c1">│</td> + <td class="c1"><span style="padding-left:1em;">Total, 4 years,</span></td> + <td class="c2">809,302</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="c1" style="padding-left:8em;">Total, 8 years</td> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td colspan="2" class="c1" style="padding-left:2em;">1,088,051.</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p class="i1">"If we add 70,000 for the two first years of the decennial period +not included in the return, we shall have 1,158,051 as the total +emigration of the ten years. It was probably more than that—it +could not well have been less. To this we must add the number +of Irish who came to England and Scotland, of whom no account +is kept. If we put them down at 30,000 a year, we shall have +for the ten years 300,000; or the total expatriation of the Irish in +the ten years may be assumed at 1,458,000, or say 1,500,000. At +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +first sight this appears a somewhat soothing explanation of +the decline of the Irish population; but, on being closely examined, +it diminishes the evil very little in one sense, and threatens +to enhance it in another.</p> + +<p class="i1">"So far as national strength is concerned, it is of no consequence +whether the population die out or emigrate to another state, +except that, if the other state be a rival or an enemy, it may be +worse for the parent state that the population emigrate than be +annihilated. In truth, the Irish population in the United States, +driven away formerly by persecution, have imbittered the feelings +of the public there against England. Emigration is only +very beneficial, therefore, when it makes room for one at home +for every one removed. Such is the emigration from England to +her colonies or to the United States, with which she has intimate +trade relations; but such is not the case with the emigration +from Ireland, for there we find a frightful void. No one fills the +emigrant's place. He flies from the country because he cannot +live in it; and being comparatively energetic, we may infer that +few others can. In the ordinary course, had the 1,500,000 expatriated +people remained, nearly one-third of them would have +died in the ten years; they would have increased the terrible +mortality, and, without much adding to the present number of +the people, would have added to the long black catalogue of +death.</p> + +<p class="i1">"For the emigrants themselves removal is a great evil, a mere +flying from destruction. The Poor-law Commissioners state that +the number of pauper emigrants sent from Ireland in 1850 was +about 1800, or less than one per cent. of the whole emigration; +the bulk of the emigrants were not paupers, but persons of some +means as well as of some energy. They were among the best +of the population, and they carried off capital with them—leaving +the decrepit, the worn-out, and the feeble behind them; the +mature and the vigorous, the seed of future generations, went out +of the land, and took with them the means of future increase. +We doubt, therefore, whether such an emigration as that from +Ireland within the last four years will not be more fatal to its +future prosperity than had the emigrants swelled the mortality at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +home. All the circumstances now enumerated tend to establish +the conclusion, that, for the state, and for the people who remain +behind, it is of very little consequence whether a loss of population, +such as that in Ireland, be caused by an excessive mortality +or excessive emigration.</p> + +<p class="i1">"To the emigrants themselves, after they have braved the pain +of the separation and the difficulties of the voyage, and after they +are established in a better home, the difference is very great; but +it may happen that, to Ireland as a state, their success abroad +will be rather dangerous than beneficial. On the whole, emigration +does not account for the decrease of people; and if it did +account for it, would not afford us the least consolation."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In the above article, the Kilrush Union is mentioned +as an exception to the general improvement in Ireland, +in respect to workhouse accommodation. Mr. Sidney +Godolphin Osborne, the able and humane correspondent +of the London Times, can enlighten us in regard to +the treatment of the poor of Kilrush in 1851.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"I am sorry to be compelled again to call public attention to +the state of things in the above ill-fated union. I do not dispute +the interest which must attach to the transactions of the Encumbered +Estates Court, the question of the so-called Godless Colleges, +the campaign now commencing against the national +schools, and the storm very naturally arising against the Papal +Aggression Bill, in a country so Catholic as Ireland. But I must +claim some interest upon the part of the British public on the +question of life and death now cruelly working out in the West of +Ireland.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The accommodation for paupers in the Kilrush union-houses +was, in the three weeks ending the 8th, 15th, and 22d of this +month, calculated for 4654; in the week ending the 8th of March +there were 5005 inmates, 56 deaths!—in the week ending the 15th +of March, 4980 inmates, 68 deaths!—in the week ending the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +22d of March, 4868 inmates, 79 deaths! That is to say, <i>there +were 203 deaths in 21 days</i>. I last week called your attention to +the fact of the over-crowding and the improper feeding of the poor +creatures in these houses, as proved by a report made by the +medical officer on the 1st of February, repeated on the 22d, and, +at the time of my letter, evidently unheeded. Behold the result—79 +deaths in a population of under 5000 in one week! I have, I +regret to say, besides these returns, a large mass of returns of +deaths outside the house, evidently the result of starvation; on +some, coroners' juries have admitted it to be so.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Eye-witnesses of the highest respectability, as well as my own +paid agent, report to me the state of the town and neighbourhood +of the workhouse on the admission-days in characters quite horrifying: +between 100 and 200 poor, half-starved, almost naked +creatures may be seen by the roadside, under the market-house—in +short, wherever the famished, the houseless, and the cold can +get for a night's shelter. Many have come twelve Irish miles to +seek relief, and then have been refused, though their sunken eyes +and projecting bones write the words 'destitute' and 'starving' +in language even the most callous believers in pauper cunning +could not misunderstand. I will defy contradiction to the fact, +that the business of the admission-days is conducted in a way +which forbids common justice to the applicants; it is a mere +mockery to call the scene of indecent hurry and noisy strife between +guardians, officers, and paupers, which occupies the few +hours weekly given to this work, a hearing of applicants.</p> + +<p class="i1">"I have before me some particulars of a visit of inspection paid +to these houses a short time since by a gentleman whose position +and whose motives are above all cavil for respectability and integrity; +I have a mass of evidence, voluntarily given me, from +sources on which I can place implicit confidence, all tending to +one and the same point. The mortality so fast increasing can +only be ascribed to the insufficiency of the out-relief given to the +destitute, and the crowding and improper diet of the in-door paupers. +From the published statement of the half-year ending +September 29, 1850, signed 'C. M. Vandeleur, chairman,' I find +there were 1014 deaths in that said half-year. Average weekly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +cost per head—food, 11¼<i>d.</i>; clothing, 2<i>d.</i> I shall look with +anxiety for the return of the half-year just ended; it will be a +curious document, as emanating from a board the chairman of +which has just trumpeted in your columns with regard to this +union, 'that the lands, with little exception, are well occupied, +and a spirit of industry visible among all classes.' It will at +least prove a more than usual occupation of burying-land, and a +spirit of increased energy in the grave-digging class.</p> + +<p class="i1">"With regard to the diet of the old and infirm, I can conceive +it possible that since the publication of my last letter there may +be some improvement, though I am not yet aware of it. I am +now prepared to challenge all contradiction to the fact that the +diet has been not only short of what it ought to be by the prescribed +dietary, but, in the case of the bread, it has frequently +been unfit for human food—such as very old or very young people +could only touch under the pressure of famine, and could not, +under any circumstances, sustain health upon.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Let the authorities investigate the deaths of the last six +weeks, taking the cause of death from the medical officers, and +how soon after admission each individual died; they will then, +with me, cease to wonder that the poor creatures who come in +starving should so soon sink, when the sanatory condition of the +law's asylum is just that which would tell most severely even on +the most healthy. I admit, sir, that Kilrush market may be well +supplied with cheap food, but the evicted peasantry have no +money, and vendors do not give. I admit that the season for the +growth of nettles, and cornkale, and other weeds, the of late +years normal food of these poor creatures, has not yet set in, and +this I do not deny is all against them. I leave to the British +public the forming any conclusion they like from this admission.</p> + +<p class="i1">"What I now contend for is this—that in a particular part of +Great Britain there are certain workhouses, asylums for the destitute, +supervised by salaried inspectors, directly under the cognizance +of the Government, in which the crowding of the sick is +most shameful, the diet equally so. The mortality for the weeks +ending January 25 to March 22—484, upon a population which +in those weeks never exceeded 5200 souls! I believe these to be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +facts which cannot be disputed, and I claim on them the immediate +interference of the Government, and the more especially as +the chairman of this union makes a public favourable comparison +between it and the union of Ennistymon, in the same county. I +am myself prepared, on very short notice, to go over at my own +expense with any person of respectability from this country, appointed +by Government, and I have no doubt we shall prove that +I have, if any thing, understated matters; if so, am I wrong, sir, +in saying, that such a state of things, within a twenty hours' +journey from London, is in a sad and shameful contrast to the +expected doings of the 'World's Fair' on English ground? <i>When, +the other day, I looked on the Crystal Palace, and thought of Kilrush +workhouse, as I have seen it and now know it to be, I confess I +felt, as a Christian and the subject of a Christian Government, +utter disgust.</i> Again, sir, I thank you from my heart for your +indulgence to these my cries for justice for Ireland."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Alas! poor country, where each hour teems with a +new grievance; where tyranny is so much a custom +that the very institutions which have charity written +upon their front are turned to dangerous pest-houses, +slaving shops, or tombs; where to toil even to extremity +is to be rewarded with semi-starvation in styes, and, +perhaps, by sudden eviction, and a grave by the wayside; +where to entertain certain religious convictions is +to invite the whips of persecution, and the particular +tyranny of the landlord who adheres to the Church of +England; where to speak the faith of the heart, the +opinions of the mind, is to sacrifice the food doled out +by the serf-holders; where to live is to be considered a +glorious mercy—to hope, something unfit for common +men.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">The struggles and achievements of Con McNale, as +related in "Household Words," give us a tolerably +truthful representation of the milder features of Irish +peasant life. Con had better luck than most of his class, +and knew better how to improve it. Yet the circumstances +of his existence were certainly not those of a +freeman:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"My father," said he, "lived under ould Squire Kilkelly, an' +for awhile tinded his cattle; but the Squire's gone out iv this part +iv the counthry, to Australia or some furrin part, an' the mentioned +house (mansion-house) an' the fine property was sould, so +it was, for little or nothin', for the fightin' was over in furrin +parts; Boney was put down, an' there was no price for corn or +cattle, an' a jontleman from Scotland came an' bought the istate. +We were warned by the new man to go, for he tuk in his own +hand all the in-land about the domain, bein' a grate farmer. He +put nobody in our little place, but pulled it down, an' he guv +father a five-guinea note, but my father was ould an' not able to +face the world agin, an' he went to the town an' tuk a room—a +poor, dirty, choky place it was for him, myself, and sisther to live +in. The neighbours were very kind an' good though. Sister +Bridget got a place wid a farmer hereabouts, an' I tuk the world +on my own showlders. I had nothin' at all but the rags I stud +up in, an' they were bad enuf. Poor Biddy got a shillin' advanced +iv her wages that her masther was to giv her. She guv +it me, for I was bent on goin' toward Belfast to look for work. +All along the road I axed at every place; they could giv it me, +but to no good; except when I axed, they'd giv me a bowl iv +broth, or a piece iv bacon, or an oaten bannock, so that I had my +shillin' to the fore when I got to Belfast.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Here the heart was near lavin' me all out intirely. I went +wandtherin' down to the quay among the ships, and what should +there be but a ship goin' to Scotland that very night wid pigs. +In throth it was fun to see the sailors at cross-purposes wid 'em, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> +for they didn't know the natur iv the bastes. I did. I knew how +to coax 'em. I set to an' I deludhered an' coaxed the pigs, an' +by pullin' them by the tail, knowing that if they took a fancy I +wished to pull 'em back out of the ship they'd run might an' main +into her, and so they did. Well, the sailors were mightily divarted, +an' when the pigs was aboord I wint down to the place; an' +the short iv it is that in three days I was in Glasgow town, an' +the captain an' the sailors subscribed up tin shillins an' guv it +into my hand. Well, I bought a raping-hook, an' away I trudged +till I got quite an' clane into the counthry, an' the corn was here +and there fit to cut. At last I goes an' ax a farmer for work. He +thought I was too wake to be paid by the day, but one field havin' +one corner fit to cut, an' the next not ready, 'Paddy,' says he, +'you may begin in that corner, an' I'll pay yees by the work yees +do,' an' he guv me my breakfast an' a pint of beer. Well, I never +quit that masther the whole harvest, an' when the raping was +over I had four goolden guineas to carry home, besides that I was +as sthrong as a lion. Yees would wonder how glad the sailors +was to see me back agin, an' ne'er a farthin' would they take +back iv their money, but tuk me over agin to Belfast, givin' me +the hoighth of good thratemint of all kinds. I did not stay an +hour in Belfast, but tuk to the road to look afther the ould man +an' little Biddy. Well, sorrows the tidins I got. The ould man +had died, an' the grief an' disthress of poor little Biddy had even +touched her head a little. The dacent people where she was, may +the Lord reward 'em, though they found little use in her, kep her, +hoping I would be able to come home an' keep her myself, an' so +I was. I brought her away wid me, an' the sight iv me put new +life in her. I was set upon not being idle, an' I'll tell yees what +I did next.</p> + +<p class="i1">"When I was little <i>bouchaleen</i> iv a boy I used to be ahead on +the mountain face, an' 'twas often I sheltered myself behind them +gray rocks that's at the gable iv my house; an' somehow it came +into my head that the new Squire, being a grate man for improvin' +might let me try to brake in a bit iv land there; an' so I goes +off to him, an' one iv the sarvints bein' a sort iv cousin iv mine, +I got to spake to the Squire, an' behould yees he guv me lave at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +onst. Well, there's no time like the prisint, an' as I passed out +iv the back yard of the mentioned (mansion) house, I sees the +sawyers cutting some Norway firs that had been blown down by +the storm, an' I tells the sawyers that I had got lave to brake in +a bit iv land in the mountains, an' what would some pieces iv fir +cost. They says they must see what kind of pieces they was that +I wished for; an' no sooner had I set about looking 'em through +than the Squire himself comes ridin' out of the stable-yard, an' +says he at onst, 'McNale,' says he, 'you may have a load iv cuttins +to build your cabin, or two if you need it.' 'The Heavens +be your honour's bed,' says I, an' I wint off to the room where I +an' Biddy lived, not knowin' if I was on my head or my heels. +Next day, before sunrise, I was up here, five miles up the face +of Slieve-dan, with a spade in my fist, an' I looked roun' for the +most shiltered spot I could sit my eyes an. Here I saw, where +the house an' yard are stan'in', a plot iv about an acre to the +south iv that tall ridge of rocks, well sheltered from the blast +from the north an' from the aste, an' it was about sunrise an' a +fine morning in October that I tuk up the first spadeful. There +was a spring then drippin' down the face iv the rocks, an' I saw +at once that it would make the cabin completely damp, an' the +land about mighty sour an' water-<i>slain</i>; so I determined to do +what I saw done in Scotland. I sunk a deep drain right under +the rock to run all along the back iv the cabin, an' workin' that +day all alone by myself, I did a grate dale iv it. At night it was +close upon dark when I started to go home, so I hid my spade in +the heath an' trudged off. The next morning I bargained with a +farmer to bring me up a load iv fir cuttins from the Squire's, an' +by the evenin' they were thrown down within a quarter iv a mile +iv my place, for there was no road to it then, an' I had to carry +'em myself for the remainder of the way. This occupied me till +near nightfall; but I remained that night till I placed two upright +posts of fir, one at each corner iv the front iv the cabin.</p> + +<p class="i1">"I was detarmined to get the cabin finished as quickly as possible, +that I might be able to live upon the spot, for much time +was lost in goin' and comin'. The next day I was up betimes, +an' finding a track iv stiff blue clay, I cut a multitude of thick +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +square sods iv it, an' having set up two more posts at the remainin' +two corners iv the cabin, I laid four rows iv one gable, rising +it about three feet high. Havin' laid the rows, I sharpind three +or four straight pine branches, an' druv them down through the +sods into the earth, to pin the wall in its place. Next day I had +a whole gable up, each three rows iv sods pinned through to the +three benathe. In about eight days I had put up the four walls, +makin' a door an' two windows; an' now my outlay began, for I +had to pay a thatcher to put on the sthraw an' to assist me in +risin' the rafthers. In another week it was covered in, an' it was +a pride to see it with the new thatch an' a wicker chimbly daubed +with clay, like a pallis undernathe the rock. I now got some +turf that those who had cut 'em had not removed, an' they sould +'em for a thrifle, an' I made a grate fire an' slept on the flure of +my own house that night. Next day I got another load iv fir +brought to make the partitions in the winter, an' in a day or two +after I had got the inside so dhry that I was able to bring poor +Biddy to live there for good and all. The Heavens be praised, +there was not a shower iv rain fell from the time I began the +cabin till I ended it, an' when the rain did fall, not a drop came +through—all was carried off by my dhrain into the little river +before yees.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The moment I was settled in the house I comminced dhraining +about an acre iv bog in front, an' the very first winter I sowed +a shillin's worth of cabbidge seed, an' sold in the spring a pound's +worth of little cabbidge plants for the gardins in the town below. +When spring came, noticin' how the early-planted praties did the +best, I planted my cabbidge ground with praties, an' I had a +noble crap, while the ground was next year fit for the corn. In +the mane time, every winther I tuk in more and more ground, +an' in summer I cut my turf for fewel, where the cuttins could +answer in winther for a dhrain; an' findin' how good the turf +were, I got a little powney an' carried 'em to the town to sell, +when I was able to buy lime in exchange an' put it on my bog, +so as to make it produce double. As things went on I got assistance, +an' when I marrid, my wife had two cows that guv me a +grate lift.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"I was always thought to be a handy boy, an' I could do a +turn of mason-work with any man not riglarly bred to it; so I +took one of my loads of lime, an' instead of puttin' it on the land, +I made it into morthar—and indeed the stones being no ways +scarce, I set to an' built a little kiln, like as I had seen down the +counthry. I could then burn my own lime, an' the limestone +were near to my hand, too many iv 'em. While all this was goin' +on, I had riz an' sould a good dale iv oats and praties, an' every +summer I found ready sale for my turf in the town from one jontleman +that I always charged at an even rate, year by year. I +got the help of a stout boy, a cousin iv my own, who was glad iv +a shilter; an' when the childher were ould enough, I got some +young cattle that could graze upon the mountain in places where +no other use could be made iv the land, and set the gossoons to +herd 'em.</p> + +<p class="i1">"There was one bit iv ground nigh han' to the cabin that puzzled +me intirely. It was very poor and sandy, an' little better +than a rabbit burrow; an' telling the Squire's Scotch steward iv +it, he bade me thry some flax; an' sure enuf, so I did, an' a fine +crap iv flax I had as you might wish to see; an' the stame-mills +being beginnin' in the counthry at that time, I sould my flax for +a very good price, my wife having dhried it, beetled it, an' +scutched it with her own two hands.</p> + +<p class="i1">"I should have said before that the Squire himself came up +here with a lot iv fine ladies and jontlemen to see what I had +done; an' you never in your life seed a man so well plased as he +was, an' a mimber of Parlimint from Scotland was with him, an' +he tould me I was a credit to ould Ireland; an' sure didn't Father +Connor read upon the papers, how he tould the whole story in +the Parlimint house before all the lords an' quality. But faix, +he didn't forgit me; for a month or two after he was here, an' it +coming on the winter, comes word for me an' the powney to go +down to the mentioned (mansion) house, for the steward wanted +me. So away I wint, an' there, shure enuf, was an illigant Scotch +plough, every inch of iron, an' a lot of young Norroway pines—the +same you see shiltering the house an' yard—an' all was a free +prisint for me from the Scotch jontleman that was the mimber +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> +of Parlimint. 'Twas that plough that did the meracles iv work +hereabouts; for I often lint it to any that I knew to be a careful +hand, an' it was the manes iv havin' the farmers all round send +an' buy 'em. At last I was able to build a brave snug house; +and, praised be Providence, I have never had an hour's ill health +nor a moment's grief, but when poor Biddy, the cratur, died from +us. It is thirty years since that morning that I tuk up the first +spadeful from the wild mountain side; an' twelve acres are good +labour land, an' fifteen drained an' good grazin'. I have been +payin' rint twinty years, an' am still, thank God, able to take my +own part iv any day's work—plough, spade, or flail."</p> + +<p class="i1">"Have you got a lease?" said I.</p> + +<p class="i1">"No, indeed, nor a schrape of a pin; nor I never axed it. Have +I not my <i>tinnant-rite</i>?"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">At any moment the labours of poor Con might have +been rendered of no benefit to him. He held the +wretched hovel and the ground he tilled merely by the +permission of the landlord, who could have desolated +all by the common process of eviction; and Con would +then have been driven to new exertions or to the workhouse. +The rugged ballad of "Patrick Fitzpatrick's +Farewell," presents a case more common than that of +Con McNale:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"Those three long years I've labour'd hard as any on Erin's isle,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">And still was scarcely able my family to keep;</div> + <div class="verse">My tender wife and children three, under the lash of misery,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">Unknown to friends and neighbours, I've often seen to weep.</div> + <div class="verse">Sad grief it seized her tender heart, when forced her only cow to + part,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">And canted<a name="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a> + <a href="#Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a> + was before her face, the poor-rates for to pay;</div> + <div class="verse">Cut down in all her youthful bloom, she's gone into her silent tomb; + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></div> + <div class="verse indent-2">Forlorn I will mourn her loss when in America."</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">In the same ballad we have an expression of the comparative +paradise the Irish expect to find—and do find, +by the way—in that land which excites so much the +pity of the philanthropic aristocracy:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"Let Erin's sons and daughters fair now for the promised land + prepare,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">America, that beauteous soil, will soon your toil repay;</div> + <div class="verse"><i>Employment, it is plenty there, on beef and mutton you can + fare,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent-2"><i>From five to six dollars is your wages every day</i>.</div> + <div class="verse">Now see what money has come o'er these three years from Columbia's + shore;</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">But for it numbers now were laid all in their silent clay;</div> + <div class="verse">California's golden mines, my boys, are open now to crown our joys,</div> + <div class="verse indent-2">So all our hardships we'll dispute when in America."</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">As an illustration of the manner in which eviction is +sometimes effected by heartless landlords in Ireland, and +the treatment which the lowly of Great Britain generally +receive from those who become their masters, we +may quote "Two Scenes in the Life of John Bodger," +from "Dickens's Household Words." The characters +in this sketch are English; but the incidents are such +as frequently occur in Ireland:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In the year 1832, on the 24th of December, one of those clear +bright days that sometimes supersede the regular snowy, sleety +Christmas weather, a large ship lay off Plymouth; the Blue Peter +flying from her masthead, quarters of beef hanging from her mizzen-booms, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> +and strings of cabbages from her stern rails; her decks +crowded with coarsely-clad blue-nosed passengers, and lumbered +with boxes, barrels, hen-coops, spars, and chain-cables. The wind +was rising with a hollow, dreary sound. Boats were hurrying to +and fro, between the vessel and the beach, where stood excited +groups of old people and young children. The hoarse, impatient +voices of officers issuing their commands, were mingled with the +shrill wailing of women on the deck and the shore.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It was the emigrant ship 'Cassandra,' bound for Australia +during the period of the 'Bounty' system, when emigration recruiters, +stimulated by patriotism and a handsome percentage, +rushed frantically up and down the country, earnestly entreating +'healthy married couples,' and single souls of either sex, to accept +a free passage to 'a land of plenty.' The English labourers had +not then discovered that Australia was a country where masters +were many and servants scarce. In spite of poverty and poorhouse +fare, few of the John Bull family could be induced to give heed to +flaming placards they could not read, or inspiring harangues +they could not understand. The admirable education which in +1832, at intervals of seven days, was distributed in homœopathic +doses among the agricultural olive-branches of England, did not +include modern geography, even when reading and writing were +imparted. If a stray Sunday-school scholar did acquire a faint +notion of the locality of Canaan, he was never permitted to travel +as far as the British Colonies.</p> + +<p class="i1">"To the ploughman out of employ, Canaan, Canada, and Australia +were all '<i>furrin parts</i>;' he did not know the way to them; +but he knew the way to the poorhouse, so took care to keep within +reach of it.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Thus it came to pass that the charterers of the good ship 'Cassandra' +were grievously out in their calculations; and failing to +fill with English, were obliged to make up their complement with +Irish; who, having nothing to fall upon, but the charity of the poor +to the poorer, are always ready to go anywhere for a daily meal.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The steamers from Cork had transferred their ragged, weeping, +laughing, fighting cargoes; the last stray groups of English had +been collected from the western counties; the Government officers +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +had cleared and passed the ship. With the afternoon tide two +hundred helpless, ignorant, destitute souls were to bid farewell to +their native land. The delays consequent on miscalculating the +emigrating taste of England had retarded until midwinter, a voyage +which should have been commenced in autumn.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In one of the shore-boats, sat a portly man—evidently neither +an emigrant nor a sailor—wrapped in a great coat and comforters; +his broad-brimmed beaver secured from the freezing blast by a +coloured bandanna tied under the chin of a fat, whiskerless face. +This portly personage was Mr. Joseph Lobbit, proprietor of 'The +Shop,' farmer, miller, and chairman of the vestry of the rich +rural parish of Duxmoor.</p> + +<p class="i1">"At Duxmoor, the chief estate was in Chancery, the manor-house +in ruins, the lord of it an outlaw, and the other landed proprietors +absentees, or in debt; a curate preached, buried, married, +and baptized, for the health of the rector compelled him to pass +the summer in Switzerland, and the winter in Italy; so Mr. Lobbit +was almost the greatest, as he was certainly the richest, man in +the parish.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Except that he did not care for any one but himself, and did +not respect any one who had not plenty of money, he was not a bad +sort of man. He had a jolly hearty way of talking and shaking +hands, and slapping people on the back; and until you began to +count money with him, he seemed a very pleasant, liberal fellow. +He was fond of money, but more fond of importance; and therefore +worked as zealously at parish-business as he did at his own +farm, shop, and mill. He centred the whole powers of the vestry +in one person, and would have been beadle, too, if it had been +possible. He appointed the master and matron of the workhouse, +who were relations of his wife; supplied all the rations and clothing +for 'the house,' and fixed the prices in full vestry (viz. himself, +and the clerk, his cousin,) assembled. He settled all the questions +of out-door relief, and tried hard, more than once, to settle the rate +of wages too.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Ill-natured people did say that those who would not work on +Master Lobbit's farm, at <i>his</i> wages, stood a very bad chance if they +wanted any thing from the parish, or came for the doles of blankets, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> +coals, bread, and linsey-woolsey petticoats, which, under the provisions +of the tablets in Duxmoor church, are distributed every +Christmas. Of course, Mr. Lobbit supplied these gifts, as chief +shopkeeper, and dispensed them, as senior and perpetual churchwarden. +Lobbit gave capital dinners; plenty smoked on his +board, and pipes of negro-head with jorums of gin punch followed, +without stint.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The two attorneys dined with him—and were glad to come, +for he had always money to lend, on good security, and his gin was +unexceptionable. So did two or three bullfrog farmers, very rich +and very ignorant. The doctor and curate came occasionally; +they were poor, and in his debt at 'The Shop,' therefore bound to +laugh at his jokes—which were not so bad, for he was no fool—so +that, altogether, Mr. Lobbit had reason to believe himself a very +popular man.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But there was—where is there not?—a black drop in his overflowing +cup of prosperity.</p> + +<p class="i1">"He had a son whom he intended to make a gentleman; whom +he hoped to see married to some lady of good family, installed in +the manor-house of Duxmoor, (if it should be sold cheap, at the +end of the Chancery suit,) and established as the squire of the +parish. Robert Lobbit had no taste for learning, and a strong +taste for drinking, which his father's customers did their best to +encourage. Old Lobbit was decent in his private habits; but, as +he made money wherever he could to advantage, he was always +surrounded by a levee of scamps, of all degrees—some agents and +assistants, some borrowers, and would-be borrowers. Young +Lobbit found it easier to follow the example of his father's companions +than to follow his father's advice. He was as selfish and +greedy as his father, without being so agreeable or hospitable. +In the school-room he was a dunce, in the play-ground a tyrant +and bully; no one liked him; but, as he had plenty of money, +many courted him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"As a last resource his father sent him to Oxford; whence, after +a short residence, he was expelled. He arrived home drunk, and +in debt; without having lost one bad habit, or made one respectable +friend. From that period he lived a sot, a village rake, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +king of the taproom, and the patron of a crowd of blackguards, +who drank his beer and his health; hated him for his insolence, +and cheated him of his money.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Yet Joseph Lobbit loved his son, and tried not to believe the +stories good-natured friends told of him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Another trouble fell upon the prosperous churchwarden. On +the north side of the parish, just outside the boundaries of Duxmoor +Manor, there had been, in the time of the Great Civil Wars, +a large number of small freehold farmers: each with from forty to +five acres of land; the smaller, fathers had divided among their +progeny; the larger had descended to eldest sons by force of primogeniture. +Joseph Lobbit's father had been one of these small +freeholders. A right of pasture on an adjacent common was attached +to these little freeholds; so, what with geese and sheep, +and a cow or so, even the poorest proprietor, with the assistance +of harvest work, managed to make a living, up to the time of the +last war. War prices made land valuable, and the common was +enclosed; though a share went to the little freeholders, and sons +and daughters were hired, at good wages, while the enclosure was +going on, the loss of the pasture for stock, and the fall of prices +at the peace, sealed their fate. John Lobbit, our portly friend's +father, succeeded to his little estate, of twenty acres, by the death +of his elder brother, in the time of best war prices, after he had +passed some years as a shopman in a great seaport. His first use +of it was to sell it, and set up a shop in Duxmoor, to the great +scandal of his farmer neighbours. When John slept with his +fathers, Joseph, having succeeded to the shop and savings, began +to buy land and lend money. Between shop credit to the five-acred +and mortgages to the forty-acred men, with a little luck in +the way of the useful sons of the freeholders being constantly enlisted +for soldiers, impressed for sailors, or convicted for poaching +offences, in the course of years Joseph Lobbit became possessed, +not only of his paternal freehold, but, acre by acre, of all his +neighbours' holdings, to the extent of something like five hundred +acres. The original owners vanished; the stout and young departed, +and were seen no more; the old and decrepit were received +and kindly housed in the workhouse. Of course it could not have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +been part of Mr. Lobbit's bargain to find them board and lodging +for the rest of their days at the parish expense. A few are said to +have drunk themselves to death; but this is improbable, for the +cider in that part of the country is extremely sour, so that it is +more likely they died of colic.</p> + +<p class="i1">"There was, however, in the very centre of the cluster of freeholds +which the parochial dignitary had so successfully acquired, +a small barren plot of five acres with a right of road through the +rest of the property. The possessor of this was a sturdy fellow, +John Bodger by name, who was neither to be coaxed nor bullied +into parting with his patrimony.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Bodger was an only son, a smart little fellow, a capital +thatcher, a good hand at cobhouse building—in fact a handy man. +Unfortunately, he was as fond of pleasure as his betters. He sang +a comic song till peoples' eyes ran over, and they rolled on their +seats: he handled a singlestick very tidily; and, among the light +weights, was not to be despised as a wrestler. He always knew +where a hare was to be found; and, when the fox-hounds were out, +to hear his view-halloo did your heart good. These tastes were +expensive; so that when he came into his little property, although +he worked with tolerable industry, and earned good wages for that +part of the country, he never had a shilling to the fore, as the Irish +say. If he had been a prudent man, he might have laid by something +very snug, and defied Mr. Lobbit to the end of his days.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It would take too long to tell all Joseph Lobbit's ingenious devices—after +plain, plump offers—to buy Bodger's acres had been +refused. John Bodger declined a loan to buy a cart and horse; +he refused to take credit or a new hat, umbrella, and waistcoat, +after losing his money at Bidecot Fair. He went on steadily +slaving at his bit of land, doing all the best thatching and building +jobs in the neighbourhood, spending his money, and enjoying +himself without getting into any scrapes; until Mr. Joseph Lobbit, +completely foiled, began to look on John Bodger as a personal +enemy.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Just when John and his neighbours were rejoicing over the defeat +of the last attempt of the jolly parochial, an accident occurred +which upset all John's prudent calculations. He fell in love. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> +He might have married Dorothy Paulson, the blacksmith's daughter—an +only child, with better than two hundred pounds in the +bank, and a good business—a virtuous, good girl, too, except that +she was as thin as a hurdle, with a skin like a nutmeg-grater, and +rather a bad temper. But instead of that, to the surprise of every +one, he went and married Carry Hutchins, the daughter of Widow +Hutchins, one of the little freeholders bought out by Mr. Lobbit, +who died, poor old soul, the day after she was carried into the +workhouse, leaving Carry and her brother Tom destitute—that is +to say, destitute of goods, money, or credit, but not of common +sense, good health, good looks, and power of earning wages.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Carry was nearly a head taller than John, with a face like a +ripe pear. He had to buy her wedding gown, and every thing +else. He bought them at Lobbit's shop. Tom Hutchins—he was +fifteen years old—a tall, spry lad, accepted five shillings from his +brother-in-law, hung a small bundle on his bird's-nesting stick, +and set off to walk to Bristol, to be a sailor. He was never heard +of any more at Duxmoor.</p> + +<p class="i1">"At first all went well. John left off going to wakes and fairs, +except on business; stuck to his trades; brought his garden into +good order, and worked early and late, when he could spare time, +at his two fields, while his wife helped him famously. If they had +had a few pounds in hand, they would have had 'land and beeves.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"But the first year twins came—a boy and girl; and the next +another girl, and then twins again, and so on. Before Mrs. Bodger +was thirty she had nine hearty, healthy children, with a fair +prospect of plenty more; while John was a broken man, soured, +discontented, hopeless. No longer did he stride forth eagerly to +his work, after kissing mother and babies; no longer did he hurry +home to put a finishing-stroke to the potato-patch, or broadcast +his oat crop; no longer did he sit whistling and telling stories of +bygone feats at the fireside, while mending some wooden implement +of his own, or making one for a neighbour. Languid and +moody, he lounged to his task with round shoulders and slouching +gait; spoke seldom—when he did, seldom kindly. His children, +except the youngest, feared him, and his wife scarcely opened her +lips, except to answer.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"A long, hard, severe winter, and a round of typhus fever, +which carried off two children, finished him. John Bodger was +beaten, and obliged to sell his bit of land. He had borrowed +money on it from the lawyer; while laid up with fever he had +silently allowed his wife to run up a bill at 'The Shop.' When +strong enough for work there was no work to be had. Lobbit saw +his opportunity, and took it. John Bodger wanted to buy a cow, +he wanted seed, he wanted to pay the doctor, and to give his boys +clothes to enable them to go to service. He sold his land for what +he thought would do all this and leave a few pounds in hand. +He attended to sign the deed and receive money; when instead of +the balance of twenty-five pounds he had expected, he received +one pound ten shillings, and a long lawyer's bill <i>receipted</i>.</p> + +<p class="i1">"He did not say much; for poor countrymen don't know how to +talk to lawyers, but he went toward home like a drunken man; +and, not hearing the clatter of a horse behind him that had run +away, was knocked down, run over, and picked up with his collar-bone +and two ribs broken.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The next day he was delirious; in the course of a fortnight he +came to his senses, lying on a workhouse bed. Before he could +rise from the workhouse bed, not a stick or stone had been left to +tell where the cottage of his fathers had stood for more than two +hundred years, and Mr. Joseph Lobbit had obtained, in auctioneering +phrase, a magnificent estate of five hundred acres within a +ring fence.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John Bodger stood up at length a ruined, desperate, dangerous +man, pale, and weak, and even humble. He said nothing; the +fever seemed to have tamed every limb—every feature—except +his eyes, which glittered like an adder's when Mr. Lobbit came to +talk to him. Lobbit saw it and trembled in his inmost heart, yet +was ashamed of being afraid of a <i>pauper</i>!</p> + +<p class="i1">"About this time Swing fires made their appearance in the +country, and the principal insurance companies refused to insure +farming stock, to the consternation of Mr. Lobbit; for he had +lately begun to suspect that among Mr. Swing's friends he was +not very popular, yet he had some thousand pounds of corn-stacks +in his own yards and those of his customers.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"John Bodger, almost convalescent, was anxious to leave the +poorhouse, while the master, the doctor, and every official, seemed +in a league to keep him there and make him comfortable, although +a short time previously the feeling had been quite different. But +the old rector of Duxmoor having died at the early age of sixty-six, +in spite of his care for his health, had been succeeded by a +man who was not content to leave his duties to deputies; all the +parish affairs underwent a keen criticism, and John and his large +family came under investigation. His story came out. The new +rector pitied and tried to comfort him; but his soothing words +fell on deaf ears. The only answer he could get from John was, +'A hard life while it lasts, sir, and a pauper's grave, a pauper +widow, pauper children; Parson, while this is all you can offer +John Bodger, preaching to him is of no use.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"With the wife the clergyman was more successful. Hope and +belief are planted more easily in the hearts of women than of men, +for adversity softens the one and hardens the other. The rector +was not content with exhorting the poor; he applied to the rich +Joseph Lobbit on behalf of John Bodger's family, and as the rector +was not only a truly Christian priest, but a gentleman of good +family and fortune, the parochial ruler was obliged to hear and +to heed.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Bland and smooth, almost pathetic, was Joseph Lobbit: he +was 'heartily sorry for the poor man and his large family; should +be happy to offer him and his wife permanent employment on +his Hill farm, as well as two of the boys and one of the girls.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The eldest son and daughter, the first twins, had been for some +time in respectable service. John would have nothing to do with +Mr. Lobbit.</p> + +<p class="i1">"While this discussion was pending, the news of a ship at +Plymouth waiting for emigrants, reached Duxmoor.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The parson and the great shopkeeper were observed in a long +warm conference in the rectory garden, which ended in their +shaking hands, and the rector proceeding with rapid strides to the +poorhouse.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The same day the lately established girls' school was set to +work sowing garments of all sizes, as well as the females of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> +rector's family. A week afterward there was a stir in the village; +a wagon moved slowly away, laden with a father, mother, +and large family, and a couple of pauper orphan girls. Yes, it +was true; John and Carry Bodger were going to 'furrin parts,' +'to be made slaves on.' The women cried, and so did the children +from imitation. The men stared. As the emigrants passed the +Red Lion there was an attempt at a cheer from two tinkers; but +it was a failure; no one joined in. So staring and staring, the +men stood until the wagon crept round the turn of the lane and +over the bridge, out of sight; then bidding the 'wives' go home +and be hanged to 'em, their lords, that had twopence, went in to +spend it at the Red Lion, and those who had not, went in to see +the others drink, and talk over John Bodger's 'bouldness,' and +abuse Muster Lobbit quietly, so that no one in top-boots should +hear them;—for they were poor ignorant people in Duxmoor—they +had no one to teach them, or to care for them, and after the +fever, and a long hard winter, they cared little for their own flesh +and blood, still less for their neighbours. So John Bodger was +forgotten almost before he was out of sight.</p> + +<p class="i1">"By the road-wagon which the Bodgers joined when they +reached the highway, it was a three days' journey to Plymouth.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But, although they were gone, Mr. Lobbit did not feel quite +satisfied; he felt afraid lest John should return and do him some +secret mischief. He wished to see him on board ship, and fairly +under sail. Besides his negotiation with Emigration Brokers had +opened up ideas of a new way of getting rid, not only of dangerous +fellows like John Bodger, but of all kinds of useless paupers. +These ideas he afterward matured, and although important +changes have taken place in our emigrating system, even in 1851, +a visit to government ships, will present many specimens of parish +inmates converted, by dexterous diplomacy, into independent +labourers.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Thus it was, that contrary to all precedent, Mr. Lobbit left +his shopman to settle the difficult case of credit with his Christmas +customers, and with best horse made his way to Plymouth; and +now for the first time in his life floated on salt water.</p> + +<p class="i1">"With many grunts and groans he climbed the ship's side; not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> +being as great a man at Plymouth as at Duxmoor, no chair was +lowered to receive his portly person. The mere fact of having to +climb up a rope-ladder from a rocking boat on a breezy, freezing +day, was not calculated to give comfort or confident feelings to an +elderly gentleman. With some difficulty, not without broken +shins, amid the sarcastic remarks of groups of wild Irishmen, and +the squeaks of barefooted children—who not knowing his awful +parochial character, tumbled about Mr. Lobbit's legs in a most +impertinently familiar manner—he made his way to the captain's +cabin, and there transacted some mysterious business with the +Emigration Agent over a prime piece of mess beef and a glass of +Madeira. The Madeira warmed Mr. Lobbit. The captain assured +him positively that the ship would sail with the evening tide. +That assurance removed a heavy load from his breast: he felt like +a man who had been performing a good action, and also cheated +himself into believing that he had been spending <i>his own</i> money +in charity; so, at the end of the second bottle, he willingly chimed +in with the broker's proposal to go down below and see how the +emigrants were stowed, and have a last look at his 'lot.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Down the steep ladder they stumbled into the misery of a +'bounty' ship. A long, dark gallery, on each side of which were +ranged the berths; narrow shelves open to every prying eye; +where, for four months, the inmates were to be packed like herrings +in a barrel, without room to move, almost without air to +breathe; the mess table, running far aft the whole distance between +the masts, left little room for passing, and that little was +encumbered with all manner of boxes, packages, and infants, +crawling about like rabbits in a warren.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The groups of emigrants were characteristically employed. +The Irish 'coshering,' or gossiping; for, having little or no baggage +to look after, they had little care; but lean and ragged, +monopolized almost all the good-humour of the ship. Acute cockneys, +a race fit for every change, hammering, whistling, screwing +and making all snug in their berths; tidy mothers, turning with +despair from alternate and equally vain attempts to collect their +numerous children out of danger, and to pack the necessaries of +a room into the space of a small cupboard, wept and worked away. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> +Here, a ruined tradesman, with his family, sat at the table, dinnerless, +having rejected the coarse, tough salt meat in disgust: +there, a half-starved group fed heartily on rations from the same +cask, luxuriated over the allowance of grog, and the idea of such +a good meal daily. Songs, groans, oaths: crying, laughing, complaining, +hammering and fiddling combined to produce a chaos of +strange sounds; while thrifty wives, with spectacle on nose, +mended their husband's breeches, and unthrifty ones scolded.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Amid this confusion, under the authoritative guidance of the +second mate, Mr. Lobbit made his way, inwardly calculating how +many poachers, pauper refractories, Whiteboys, and Captain +Rocks, were about to benefit Australia by their talents, until he +reached a party which had taken up its quarters as far as possible +from the Irish, in a gloomy corner near the stern. It consisted +of a sickly, feeble woman, under forty, but worn, wasted, retaining +marks of former beauty in a pair of large, dark, speaking eyes, +and a well-carved profile, who was engaged in nursing two +chubby infants, evidently twins, while two little things, just able +to walk, hung at her skirts; a pale, thin boy, nine or ten years +old, was mending a jacket; an elder brother, as brown as a berry, +fresh from the fields, was playing dolefully on a hemlock flute. +The father, a little, round-shouldered man, was engaged in cutting +wooden buttons from a piece of hard wood with his pocket-knife; +when he caught sight of Mr. Lobbit he hastily pulled off +his coat, threw it into his berth, and, turning his back, worked +away vigorously at the stubborn bit of oak he was carving.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Hallo, John Bodger, so here you are at last,' cried Mr. Lobbit; +'I've broken my shins, almost broken my neck, and spoilt +my coat with tar and pitch, in finding you out. Well, you're +quite at home, I see: twins all well?—both pair of them? How +do you find yourself, Missis?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The pale woman sighed, and cuddled her babies—the little +man said nothing, but sneered, and made the chips fly faster.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You're on your way now to a country where twins are no object; +your passage is paid, and you've only got now to pray for +the good gentlemen that have given you a chance of earning an +honest living.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"No answer.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'I see them all here except Mary, the young lady of the +family. Pray, has she taken rue, and determined to stay in +England, after all; I expected as much'——</p> + +<p class="i1">"As he spoke, a young girl, in the neat dress of a parlour servant, +came out of the shade.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Oh! you are there, are you, Miss Mary? So you have made +up your mind to leave your place and Old England, to try your +luck in Australia; plenty of husbands there: ha, ha!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The girl blushed, and sat down to sew at some little garments. +Fresh, rosy, neat, she was as great a contrast to her brother, the +brown, ragged ploughboy, as he was to the rest of the family, +with their flabby, bleached complexions.</p> + +<p class="i1">"There was a pause. The mate, having done his duty by finding +the parochial dignitary's <i>protegés</i>, had slipped away to more +important business; a chorus of sailors 'yo heave ho-ing' at a +chain cable had ceased, and for a few moments, by common consent, +silence seemed to have taken possession of the long, dark +gallery of the hold.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Lobbit was rather put out by the silence, and no answers; +he did not feel so confident as when crowing on his own dunghill, +in Duxmoor; he had a vague idea that some one might steal behind +him in the dark, knock his hat over his eyes, and pay off old +scores with a hearty kick: but parochial dignity prevailed, and, +clearing his throat with a 'hem,' he began again—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'John Bodger, where's your coat?—what are you shivering +there for, in your sleeves?—what have you done with the excellent +coat generously presented to you by the parish—a coat that +cost, as per contract, fourteen shillings and fourpence—you have +not dared to sell it, I hope?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well, Master Lobbit, and if I did, the coat was my own, I +suppose?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What, sir?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The little man quailed; he had tried to pluck up his spirit, +but the blood did not flow fast enough. He went to his berth and +brought out the coat.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It was certainly a curious colour, a sort of yellow brown, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> +cloth shrunk and cockled up, and the metal buttons turned a +dingy black.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Lobbit raved; 'a new coat entirely spoiled, what had he +done to it?' and as he raved he warmed, and felt himself at home +again, deputy acting chairman of the Duxmoor Vestry. But the +little man, instead of being frightened, grew red, lost his humble +mien, stood up, and at length, when his tormentor paused for +breath, looked him full in the face, and cried, 'Hang your coat!—hang +you!—hang all the parochials of Duxmoor! What have +I done with your coat? Why, I've dyed it; I've dipped it in a +tan-yard; I was not going to carry your livery with me. I mean +to have the buttons off before I'm an hour older. Gratitude you +talk of;—thanks you want, you old hypocrite, for sending me +away. I'll tell you what sent me,—it was that poor wench and +her twins, and a letter from the office, saying they would not insure +your ricks, while lucifer matches are so cheap. Ay, you may +stare—you wonder who told me that; but I can tell you more. +Who is it writes so like his father the bank can't tell the difference?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Lobbit turned pale.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Be off!' said the little man; 'plague us no more. You have +eaten me up with your usury; you've got my cottage and my bit +of land; you've made paupers of us all, except that dear lass, +and the one lad, and you'd wellnigh made a convict of me. But +never mind. This will be a cold, drear Christmas to us, and a +merry, fat one to you; but, perhaps, the Christmas may come +when Master Joseph Lobbit would be glad to change places with +poor, ruined John Bodger. I am going where I am told that sons +and daughters like mine are better than "silver, yea, than fine +gold." I leave you rich on the poor man's inheritance, and poor +man's flesh and blood. You have a son and daughter that will +revenge me. "Cursed are they that remove landmarks, and devour +the substance of the poor!"'</p> + +<p class="i1">"While this, one of the longest speeches that John Bodger was +ever known to make, was being delivered, a little crowd had collected, +who, without exactly understanding the merits of the +case, had no hesitation in taking side with their fellow-passenger, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> +the poor man with the large family. The Irish began to inquire +if the stout gentleman was a tithe-proctor or a driver? Murmurs +of a suspicious character arose, in the midst of which, in a very +hasty, undignified manner, Mr. Lobbit backed out, climbed up to +the deck with extraordinary agility, and, without waiting to make +any complaints to the officers of the ship, slipped down the side +into a boat, and never felt himself safe, until called to his senses +by an attempt on the part of the boatman to exact four times the +regular fare.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But a good dinner at the Globe (at parochial expense) and a +report from the agent that the ship had sailed, restored Mr. Lobbit's +equanimity; and by the time that, snugly packed in the +mail, he was rattling along toward home by a moonlight Christmas, +he began to think himself a martyr to a tender heart, and +to console himself by calculating the value of the odd corner of +Bodger's acres, cut up into lots for his labourers' cottages. The +result—fifty per cent.—proved a balm to his wounded feelings.</p> + +<p class="i1">"I wish I could say that at the same hour John Bodger was +comforting his wife and little ones; sorry am I to report that he +left them to weep and complain, while he went forward and +smoked his pipe, and sang, and drank grog with a jolly party in +the forecastle—for John's heart was hardened, and he cared little +for God or man.</p> + +<p class="i1">"This old, fond love for his wife and children seemed to have +died away. He left them, through the most part of the voyage, +to shift for themselves—sitting forward, sullenly smoking, looking +into vacancy, and wearying the sailors with asking, 'How many +knots to-day, Jack? When do you think we shall see land?' So +that the women passengers took a mortal dislike to him; and it +being gossiped about that when his wife was in the hospital he +never went to see her for two days, they called him a brute. So +'Bodger the Brute' he was called until the end of the voyage. +Then they were all dispersed, and such stories driven out of mind +by new scenes.</p> + +<p class="i1">"John was hired to go into the far interior, where it was difficult +to get free servants at all; so his master put up with the +dead-weight encumbrance of the babies, in consideration of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> +clever wife and string of likely lads. Thus, in a new country, +he began life again in a blue jersey and ragged corduroys, but with +the largest money income he had ever known."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The second scene is a picture of John Bodger's prosperity +in Australia, where eviction and workhouses are +forgotten. If Australia had not been open to John as +a refuge, most probably he would have become a criminal, +or a worthless vagrant. Here is the second +scene:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In 1842, my friend Mrs. C. made one of her marches through +the bush with an army of emigrants. These consisted of parents +with long families, rough, country-bred single girls, with here +and there a white-handed, useless young lady—the rejected ones +of the Sydney hirers. In these marches she had to depend for +the rations of her ragged regiment on the hospitality of the settlers +on her route, and was never disappointed, although it often +happened that a day's journey was commenced without any distinct +idea of who would furnish the next dinner and breakfast.</p> + +<p class="i1">"On one of these foraging excursions—starting at day-dawn +on horseback, followed by her man Friday, an old <i>lag</i>, (prisoner,) +in a light cart, to carry the provender—she went forth to look for +the flour, milk, and mullet, for the breakfast of a party whose +English appetites had been sharpened by travelling at the pace +of the drays all day, and sleeping in the open air all night.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The welcome smoke of the expected station was found; the +light cart, with the complements and empty sack despatched; +when musing, at a foot-pace, perhaps on the future fortune of the +half-dozen girls hired out the previous day, Mrs. C. came upon a +small party which had also been encamping on the other side of +the hills.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It consisted of two gawky lads, in docked smock frocks, +woolly hats, rosy, sleepy countenances—fresh arrivals, living +monuments of the care bestowed in developing the intelligence +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> +of the agricultural mind in England. They were hard at work +on broiled mutton. A regular, hard-dried bushman had just +driven up a pair of blood mares from their night's feed, and a +white-headed, brisk kind of young old man, the master of the +party, was sitting by the fire, trying to feed an infant with some +sort of mess compounded with sugar. A dray, heavily laden, +with a bullock-team ready harnessed, stood ready to start under +the charge of a bullock-watchman.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The case was clear to a colonial eye; the white-headed man +had been down to the port from his bush-farm to sell his stuff, +and was returning with two blood mares purchased, and two emigrant +lads hired; but what was the meaning of the baby? We +see strange things in the bush, but a man-nurse is strange even +there.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Although they had never met before, the white-headed man +almost immediately recognised Mrs. C.,—for who did not know +her, or of her, in the bush?—so was more communicative than +he otherwise might have been; so he said—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You see, ma'am, my lady, I have only got on my own place +these three years; having a long family, we found it best to disperse +about where the best wages was to be got. We began saving +the first year, and my daughters have married pretty well, +and my boys got to know the ways of the country. There's three +of them married, thanks to your ladyship; so we thought we +could set up for ourselves. And we've done pretty tidy. So, as +they were all busy at home, I went down for the first time to get +a couple of mares, and see about hiring some lads out of the ships +to help us. You see I have picked up two newish ones; I have +docked their frocks to a useful length, and I think they'll do +after a bit; they can't read, neither of them—no more could I +when I first came—but our teacher (she's one my missis had +from you) will soon fettle them; and I've got a power of things +on the dray; I wish you could be there at unloading; for it being +my first visit, I wanted something for all of them. But about +this babby is a curious job. When I went aboard the ship to +hire my shepherds, I looked out for some of my own country; +and while I was asking, I heard of a poor woman whose husband +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> +had been drowned in a drunken fit on the voyage, that was lying +very ill, with a young babby, and not likely to live.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Something made me go to see her; she had no friends on +board, she knew no one in the colony. She started, like, at my +voice; one word brought on another, when it came out she was +the wife of the son of my greatest enemy.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'She had been his father's servant, and married the son secretly. +When it was found out, he had to leave the country; +thinking that once in Australia, the father would be reconciled, +and the business that put her husband in danger might be +settled. For this son was a wild, wicked man, worse than the +father, but with those looks and ways that take the hearts of poor +lasses. Well, as we talked, and I questioned her—for she did not +seem so ill as they had told me—she began to ask me who I was, +and I did not want to tell; when I hesitated, she guessed, and +cried out, 'What, John Bodger, is it thee!'—and with that she +screamed, and screamed, and went off quite light-headed, and +never came to her senses until she died.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'So, as there was no one to care for the poor little babby, and +as we had such a lot at home, what with my own children and my +grandchildren, I thought one more would make no odds, so the +gentleman let me take it, after I'd seen the mother decently +buried.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You see this feeding's a very awkward job, ma'am—and +I've been five days on the road. But I think my missis will be +pleased as much as with the gown I've brought her.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What,' said Mrs. C., 'are you the John Bodger that came +over in the 'Cassandra,'—the John B.?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, ma'am.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'John, the Brute?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, ma'am. But I'm altered, sure-<i>ly</i>.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well,' continued John, 'the poor woman was old Joseph +Lobbit's daughter-in-law. Her husband had been forging, or +something, and would have been lagged if he'd staid in England. +I don't know but I might have been as bad if I had not got out +of the country when I did. But there's something here in always +getting on; and not such a struggling and striving that softens a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> +poor man's heart. And I trust what I've done for this poor +babby and its mother may excuse my brutish behaviour. I +could not help thinking when I was burying poor Jenny Lobbit, +(I mind her well, a nice little lass, about ten years old,) I could +not help thinking as she lay in a nice, cloth-covered coffin, and a +beautiful stone cut with her name and age, and a text on her +grave, how different it is even for poor people to be buried here. +Oh, ma'am! a man like me, with a long family, can make ahead +here, and do a bit of good for others worse off. We live while we +live; when we die we are buried with decency. I remember, +when my wife's mother died, the parish officers were so cross, and +the boards of the coffin barely stuck together, and it was terrible +cold weather, too. My Carry used to cry about it uncommonly +all the winter. The swells may say what they like about it, but +I'll be blessed if it be'ent worth all the voyage to die in it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Not many days afterward, Mrs. C. saw John at home, surrounded +by an army of sons and daughters; a patriarch, and +yet not sixty years old; the grandchild of his greatest enemy the +greatest pet of the family.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In my mind's eye there are sometimes two pictures. John +Bodger in the workhouse, thinking of murder and fire-raising in +the presence of his prosperous enemy; and John Bodger, in his +happy bush-home, nursing little Nancy Lobbit.</p> + +<p class="i1">"At Duxmoor the shop has passed into other hands. The ex-shopkeeper +has bought and rebuilt the manor-house. He is the +squire, now, wealthier than ever he dreamed; on one estate a +mine has been found; a railway has crossed and doubled the +value of another; but his son is dead; his daughter has left him, +and lives, he knows not where, a life of shame. Childless and +friendless, the future is, to him, cheerless and without hope."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Poor-law guardians are characters held in very low +esteem by the Irish serfs, who are not backward in +expressing their contempt. The feeling is a natural one, +as will appear from considering who those guardians +generally are, and how they perform their duties: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"At the introduction of the poor-law into Ireland, the workhouses +were built by means of loans advanced by the Government +on the security of the rates. Constructed generally in that style +of architecture called 'Elizabethan,' they were the most imposing +in the country in elevation and frequency, and, placed usually in +the wretched suburbs of towns and villages, formed among the +crumbling and moss-grown cottages, a pleasing contrast in the +eye of the tourist. They were calculated to accommodate from +five hundred to two thousand inmates, according to the area and +population of the annexed district; but some of them remained +for years altogether closed, or, if open, nearly unoccupied, owing +to the ingenious shifts of the 'Guardians,' under the advice of the +'Solicitor of the Board,' Their object was to economize the resources +of the Union, to keep the rates down, and in some instances +they evaded the making of any rate for years after the +support of the destitute was made nominally imperative by the +law of the land.</p> + +<p class="i1">"As there was a good deal of patronage in a small way placed +at the disposal of the 'Guardians,' great anxiety was manifested +by those eligible to the office. Most justices of the peace were, +indeed, <i>ipso facto</i>, Guardians, but a considerable number had to +be elected by the rate-payers, and an active canvass preceded +every election. A great deal of activity and conviviality, if not +gayety, was the result, and more apparently important affairs were +neglected by many a farmer, shopkeeper, and professional man, +to insure his being elected a 'Guardian,' while the unsuccessful +took pains to prove their indifference, or to vent their ill-humour +in various ways, sometimes causing less innocuous effects than +the following sally:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"At a certain court of quarter sessions, during the dog-day heat +of one of these contests, a burly fellow was arraigned before +'their worships' and the jury, charged with some petty theft; +and as he perceived that the proofs were incontestably clear +against him, he fell into a very violent trepidation. An attorney +of the court, not overburdened with business, and fond of occupying +his idle time in playing off practical jokes, perceiving how +the case stood, addressed the prisoner in a whisper over the side +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +of the dock, with a very ominous and commiserating shake of his +head:</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Ah, you unfortunate man, ye'll be found guilty; and as sure +as ye are, ye'll get worse than hangin' or thransportation. As +sure as ever the barristher takes a pinch of snuff, that's his intention; +ye'll see him put on the black cap immaydiately. Plaid +guilty at once, and I'll tell ye what ye'll say to him afther.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The acute practitioner knew his man; the poor half-witted +culprit fell into the snare; and after a short and serious whispering +between them, which was unobserved in the bustle of the +court-house usual on such occasions, the prisoner cried out, just +as the issue-paper was going up to the jury, 'Me lord, me lord, I +plaid guilty; I beg your wortchip's an' their honours' pardon.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Very well,' said the assistant barrister, whose duty it was +to advise upon the law of each case, and preside at the bench in +judicial costume; 'very well, sir. Crier, call silence.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Several voices immediately called energetically for silence, +impressing the culprit with grave ideas at once of his worship's +great importance, and the serious nature of the coming sentence.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Withdraw the plea of not guilty, and take one of guilty to +the felony,' continued the assistant barrister, taking a pinch of +snuff and turning round to consult his brother magistrates as to +the term of intended incarceration.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Don't lose yer time, ye omodhaun!' said the attorney, with +an angry look at the prisoner.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Will I be allowed to spake one word, yer wortchips?' said +the unfortunate culprit.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'What has he to say?' said the assistant barrister with considerable +dignity.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Go on, ye fool ye,' urged the attorney.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'My lord, yer wortchips, and gintlemin av the jury,' exclaimed +the culprit, 'sind me out o' the counthry, or into jail, or breakin' +stones, or walkin' on the threadmill, or any thing else in the +coorse o' nature, as yer wortchips playses; but for the love o' the +Virgin Mary, <i>don't make me a Poor-Law Gargin</i>.'" +<a name="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a></p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">The most recent legislation of the British government +in regard to Ireland, the enactment of the Poor-law +and the Encumbered Estates Act, has had but one grand +tendency—that of diminishing the number of the population, +which is, indeed, a strange way to improve the +condition of the nation. The country was not too +thickly populated; far from it: great tracts of land +were entirely uninhabited. The exterminating acts +were, therefore, only measures of renewed tyranny. To +enslave a people is a crime of sufficient enormity; but +to drive them from the homes of their ancestors to seek +a refuge in distant and unknown lands, is such an action +as only the most monstrous of governments would dare +to perform.</p> + +<p class="i1">We have thus shown that Ireland has long endured, +and still endures, a cruel system of slavery, for which +we may seek in vain for a parallel. It matters not +that the Irish serf may leave his country; while he +remains he is a slave to a master who will not call him +property, chiefly because it would create the necessity +of careful and expensive ownership. If the Irish master +took his labourer for his slave in the American +sense, he would be compelled to provide for him, work +or not work, in sickness and in old age. Thus the +master reaps the benefits, and escapes the penalties of +slave-holding. He takes the fruits of the labourer's +toil without providing for him as the negro slaves of +America are provided for; nay, very often he refuses +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> +the poor wretch a home at any price. In no other +country does the slaveholder seem so utterly reckless +in regard to human life as in Ireland. After draining +all possible profit from his labourer's service he turns +him forth as a pauper, to get scant food if workhouse +officials choose to give it, and if not, to starve by the +wayside. The last great famine was the direct result +of this accursed system of slavery. It was oppression +of the worst kind that reduced the mass of the people +to depend for their subsistence upon the success or +failure of the potato crop; and the horrors that followed +the failure of the crop were as much the results +of misgovernment as the crimes of the French Revolution +were the consequences of feudal tyranny, too long +endured. Can England ever accomplish sufficient +penance for her savage treatment of Ireland?</p> + +<p class="i1">Some English writers admit that the degradation of +the Irish and the wretched condition of the country +can scarcely be overdrawn, but seek for the causes of +this state of things in the character of the people. +But why does the Irishman work, prosper, and achieve +wealth and position under every other government but +that of Ireland? This would not hbe the case if there +was any thing radically wrong in the Irish nature. In +the following extract from an article in the Edinburgh +Review, we have a forcible sketch of the condition +of Ireland, coloured somewhat to suit English +views:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"It is obvious that the insecurity of a community in which the +bulk of the population form a conspiracy against the law, must +prevent the importation of capital; must occasion much of what +is accumulated there to be exported; and must diminish the motives +and means of accumulation. Who will send his property to +a place where he cannot rely on its being protected? Who will +voluntarily establish himself in a country which to-morrow may +be in a state of disturbance? A state in which, to use the words +of Chief Justice Bushe, 'houses and barns and granaries are +levelled, crops are laid waste, pasture-lands are ploughed, plantations +are torn up, meadows are thrown open to cattle, cattle are +maimed, tortured, killed; persons are visited by parties of banditti, +who inflict cruel torture, mutilate their limbs, or beat them +almost to death. Men who have in any way become obnoxious +to the insurgents, or opposed their system, or refused to participate +in their outrages, are deliberately assassinated in the open +day; and sometimes the unoffending family are indiscriminately +murdered by burning the habitation.'<a name="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> A state in which even +those best able to protect themselves, the gentry, are forced to +build up all their lower windows with stone and mortar; to admit +light only into one sitting-room, and not into all the windows +of that room; to fortify every other inlet by bullet-proof barricades; +to station sentinels around during all the night and the +greater part of the day, and to keep firearms in all the bedrooms, +and even on the side-table at breakfast and dinner-time.<a name="FNanchor_97_97" +id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> +Well might Bishop Doyle exclaim, 'I do not blame the absentees; +I would be an absentee myself if I could.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The state of society which has been described may be considered +as a proof of the grossest ignorance; for what can be a +greater proof of ignorance than a systematic opposition to law, +carried on at the constant risk of liberty and of life, and producing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> +where it is most successful, in the rural districts, one level +of hopeless poverty, and in the towns, weeks of high wages and +months without employment—a system in which tremendous +risks and frightful sufferings are the means, and general misery +is the result? The ignorance, however, which marks the greater +part of the population in Ireland, is not merely ignorance of the +moral and political tendency of their conduct—an ignorance in +which the lower orders of many more advanced communities participate—but +ignorance of the businesses which are their daily +occupations. It is ignorance, not as citizens and subjects, but as +cultivators and labourers. They are ignorant of the proper rotation +of crops, of the preservation and use of manure—in a word, +of the means by which the land, for which they are ready to +sacrifice their neighbours' lives, and to risk their own, is to be +made productive. Their manufactures, such as they are, are +rude and imperfect, and the Irish labourer, whether peasant or +artisan, who emigrates to Great Britain, never possesses skill +sufficient to raise him above the lowest ranks in his trade.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Indolence—the last of the causes to which we have attributed +the existing misery of Ireland—is not so much an independent +source of evil as the result of the combination of all others. The +Irishman does not belong to the races that are by nature averse +from toil. In England, Scotland, or America he can work hard. +He is said, indeed, to require more overlooking than the natives +of any of these countries, and to be less capable, or, to speak +more correctly, to be less willing to surmount difficulties by patient +intellectual exertion; but no danger deters, no disagreeableness +disgusts, no bodily fatigue discourages him.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But in his own country he is indolent. All who have compared +the habits of hired artisans or of the agricultural labourers +in Ireland with those of similar classes in England or Scotland, +admit the inferiority of industry of the former. The indolence +of the great mass of the people, the occupiers of land, is obvious +even to the passing traveller. Even in Ulster, the province in +which, as we have already remarked, the peculiarities of the +Irish character are least exhibited, not only are the cabins, and +even the farm-houses, deformed within and without by accumulations +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> +of filth, which the least exertion would remove, but the land +itself is suffered to waste a great portion of its productive power. +We have ourselves seen field after field in which the weeds +covered as much space as the crops. From the time that his +crops are sowed and planted until they are reaped the peasant +and his family are cowering over the fire, or smoking, or lounging +before the door, when an hour or two a day employed in weeding +their potatoes, oats, or flax, would perhaps increase the produce +by one-third.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The indolence of the Irish artisan is sufficiently accounted for +by the combinations which, by prohibiting piece-work, requiring +all the workmen to be paid by the day and at the same rate, prohibiting +a good workman from exerting himself, have destroyed +the motives to industry. 'I consider it,' says Mr. Murray, 'a +very hard rule among them, that the worst workman that ever +took a tool in his hand, should be paid the same as the best, but +that is the rule and regulation of the society; and that there was +only a certain quantity of work allowed to be done; so that, if +one workman could turn more work out of his hands, he durst +not go on with it. There is no such thing as piece-work; and if +a bad man is not able to get through his work, a good workman +dare not go further than he does.'<a name="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">"The indolence of the agricultural labourer arises, perhaps, +principally from his labour being almost always day-work, and +in a great measure a mere payment of debt—a mere mode of +working out his rent. That of the occupier may be attributed to +a combination of causes. In the first place, a man must be master +of himself to a degree not common even among the educated +classes, before he can be trusted to be his own task-master. +Even among the British manufacturers, confessedly the most industrious +labourers in Europe, those who work in their own +houses are comparatively idle and irregular, and yet they work +under the stimulus of certain and immediate gain. The Irish +occupier, working for a distant object, dependent in some +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> +measure on the seasons, and with no one to control or even to +advise him, puts off till to-morrow what need not necessarily be +done to-day—puts off till next year what need not necessarily be +done this year, and ultimately leaves much totally undone.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Again, there is no damper so effectual as liability to taxation +proportioned to the means of payment. It is by this instrument +that the Turkish government has destroyed the industry, the +wealth, and ultimately the population of what were once the +most flourishing portions of Asia—perhaps of the world. It is +thus that the <i>taille</i> ruined the agriculture of the most fertile portions +of France. Now, the Irish occupier has long been subject +to this depressive influence, and from various sources. The competition +for land has raised rents to an amount which can be paid +only under favourable circumstances. Any accident throws the +tenant into an arrear, and the arrear is kept a subsisting charge, +to be enforced if he should appear capable of paying it. If any +of the signs of prosperity are detected in his crop, his cabin, his +clothes, or his food, some old demand may be brought up against +him. Again, in many districts a practice prevails of letting land +to several tenants, each of whom is responsible for the whole rent. +It is not merely the consequence, but the intention, that those who +can afford to pay should pay for those who cannot. Again, it is +from taxation, regulated by apparent property, that all the revenues +of the Irish Catholic Church are drawn. The half-yearly +offerings, the fees on marriages and christenings, and, what +is more important, the contributions to the priests made on +those occasions by the friends of the parties, are all assessed by +public opinion, according to the supposed means of the payer. +An example of the mode in which this works, occurred a few +months ago, within our own knowledge. £300 was wanted by a +loan fund, in a Catholic district in the North of Ireland. In the +night, one of the farmers, a man apparently poor, came to his landlord, +the principal proprietor in the neighbourhood, and offered +to lend the money, if the circumstance could be kept from his +priest. His motive for concealment was asked, and he answered, +that, if the priest knew he had £300 at interest, his dues would +be doubled. Secrecy was promised, and a stocking was brought +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> +from its hiding-place in the roof, filled with notes and coin, which +had been accumulating for years until a secret investment could +be found. Again, for many years past a similar taxation has existed +for political purposes. The Catholic rent, the O'Connell +tribute, and the Repeal rent, like every other tax that is unsanctioned +by law, must be exacted, to a larger or smaller amount, +from every <i>cottier</i>, or farmer, as he is supposed to be better or +worse able to provide for them.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Who can wonder that the cultivator, who is exposed to these +influences, should want the industry and economy which give +prosperity to the small farmer in Belgium? What motive has he +for industry and economy? It may be said that he has the same +motive in kind, though not in degree, as the inhabitants of a happier +country; since the new demand to which any increase of his +means would expose him probably would not exhaust the whole +of that increase. The same might be said of the subjects of the +Pasha. There are inequalities of fortune among the cultivators +of Egypt, just as there were inequalities in that part of France +which was under the <i>taille</i>. No taxation ever exhausted the whole +surplus income of all its victims. But when a man cannot calculate +the extent to which the exaction may go—when all he knows +is, that the more he appears to have the more will be demanded—when +he knows that every additional comfort which he is seen to +enjoy, and every additional productive instrument which he is +found to possess, may be a pretext for a fresh extortion, he turns +careless or sulky—he yields to the strong temptation of indolence +and of immediate excitement and enjoyment—he becomes less +industrious, and therefore produces less—he becomes less frugal, +and therefore, if he saves at all, saves a smaller portion of that +smaller product."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">For the turbulence of the Irish people, the general +indolence of the labourers and artisans, and the misery +that exists, the writer of the above sketch has causes +worthy of the acuteness of Sir James Graham, or some +other patent political economist of the aristocracy of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> +England. We need not comment. We have only made +the above quotation to show to what a condition Ireland +has been reduced, according to the admissions of an +aristocratic organ of England, leaving the reader acquainted +with the history of English legislation in regard +to the unhappy island to make the most natural +inferences.</p> + +<p class="i1">The ecclesiastical system of Ireland has long been +denounced as an injury and an insult. As an insult it +has no parallel in history. Oppression and robbery in +matters connected with religion have been unhappily +frequent; but in all other cases the oppressed and +robbed have been the minority. That one-tenth of the +population of a great country should appropriate to +themselves the endowment originally provided for all +their countrymen; that, without even condescending to +inquire whether there were or were not a congregation +of their own persuasion to profit by them, they should +seize the revenues of every benefice, should divert them +from their previous application, and should hand them +over to an incumbent of their own, to be wasted as a +sinecure if they were not wanted for the performance +of a duty—this is a treatment of which the contumely +stings more sharply even than the injustice, enormous +as that is.<a name="FNanchor_99_99" id="FNanchor_99_99"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">The tax of a tithe for the support of a church in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> +which they have no faith is a grievance of which Irish +Catholics, who compose nine-tenths of the population +of Ireland, complain with the greatest reason. Of +what benefit to them is a church which they despise? +The grand reason for the existence of an established +church fails under such circumstances. The episcopal +institutions can communicate no religious instruction, +because the creed which they sustain is treated with +contempt. But where is the use of argument in regard +to this point. The Established Church affords many +luxurious places for the scions of the aristocracy, and +there lies the chief purpose of its existence. The oppressive +taxation of Catholics to support a Protestant +church will cease with the aristocracy.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">THE MENIAL SLAVES OF GREAT BRITAIN.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> spirit of British institutions is nowhere more +plainly and offensively manifested than in the treatment +which domestic servants receive. The haughty +bearing, the constant display of supreme contempt, +and the frequency of downright cruelty on the part of +the master or mistress, and the complete abasement +and submission of the servant, have been repeatedly +subjects of observation, and show clearly that the days +of "lord and thrall" are vividly remembered in Great +Britain. In Miss Martineau's "Society in America," +we find some observations to the point. She says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"However fascinating to Americans may be the luxury, conversational +freedom, and high intellectual cultivation of English +society, they cannot fail to be disgusted with the aristocratic insolence +which is the vice of the whole. The puerile and barbaric +spirit of contempt is scarcely known in America; the +English insolence of class to class, of individuals toward each +other, is not even conceived of, except in the one highly disgraceful +instance of the treatment of people of colour. Nothing in +American civilization struck me so forcibly and so pleasurably +as the invariable respect paid to man, as man. Nothing since +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> +my return to England has given me so much pain as the contrast +there. Perhaps no Englishman can become fully aware, without +going to America, of the atmosphere of insolence in which he +dwells; of the taint of contempt which infects all the intercourses +of his world. He cannot imagine how all he can say that is +truest and best about the treatment of people of colour in America, +is neutralized on the spot by its being understood how the +same contempt is spread over the whole of society here, which is +there concentrated upon the blacks."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">It has been remarked that those who are most submissive +as serfs are the most arrogant and tyrannical +as lords. In Great Britain, from dukes down to workhouse +officials, the truth of this remark is obvious. +Each class treats its superior with abject deference, +and its inferior with overbearing insolence. The corollary +of our quotation from Miss Martineau is that the +treatment masters give to their negro slaves in America, +in their common intercourse, is what masters give to +their servants in Great Britain. In the free States of +America a master may command his servant, and if +obedience is refused he may deduct from his wages or +give him a discharge, but the laws prevent all violence; +the man is never forgotten in the servant. Another +state of affairs is to be found in Great Britain. The +laws are inadequate in their construction and too costly +in their administration to protect the poor servant. +Should he refuse obedience, or irritate his master in +any way, his punishment is just as likely to be kicks and +blows as a discharge or a reduction of wages. Englishmen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> +have frequently complained, while doing business +in the United States, because they were prevented from +striking refractory persons in their employ. In attempting +to act out their tyrannical ideas, such employers +have been severely chastised by their free, +republican servants.</p> + +<p class="i1">What the serf of the feudal baron in the twelfth century +was, the servant of modern days is, in the eyes of +the lords and ladies of Great Britain. Between these +aristocrats and their retainers there exists no fellow-feeling; +the ties of our common brotherhood are +snapped asunder, and a wide and startling gap intervenes. +"Implicit obedience to commands, and a submissive, +respectful demeanour on the one hand, are +repaid by orders given in the most imperative tone, to +perform the most degrading offices, and by a contemptuous, +haughty demeanour on the other hand. In +the servant the native dignity of our nature is for the +time broken and crushed. In the master the worst +passion of our nature is exhibited in all its hideous deformity. +The spirit that dictated the expression, 'I +am the porcelain, you are only the common clay,' is not +confined to the original speaker, but, with few exceptions, +is very generally participated in. It is not, +however, solely by the aristocratic class that the servant +is treated with such contumely, the fault is largely +participated in by the middle and working classes. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> +The feelings of the English people are essentially aristocratic."<a name="FNanchor_100_100" +id="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">Until recently an order was placed at the entrance +to Kensington Gardens, which read as follows:—"<i>No +Dogs or Livery Servants admitted</i>." What more conclusive +evidence of the degraded condition of menial +servants in Great Britain could be obtained. A fellow-man, +of good character—a necessary conclusion from +his being in a situation—is placed on a level with +brutes. The livery seems as much the badge of slavery +in the nineteenth century as the collar of iron was in +the days of baron and villain. It is a bar to the reception +of a servant in any genteel society, and thus constantly +reminds him of his debased condition. He can +have but little hope of improving that condition, when +all intercourse with persons of superior fortune or +attainments is so effectually prevented. A menial he +is, and menials must his children be, unless they should +meet with extraordinary fortune. The following letter +of a footman recently appeared in the "Times" newspaper. +It is manly, and to the point.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Many articles having appeared in your paper under the term +'Flunkeyana,' all depreciatory of poor flunkeys, may I be allowed +to claim a fair and impartial hearing on the other side? I am a +footman, a liveried flunkey, a pampered menial—terms which +one Christian employs to another, simply because he is, by the +Almighty Dispenser of all things, placed, in his wisdom, lower +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> +in life than the other. Not yet having seen any defence of +servants, may I trust to your candour and your generosity to +insert this humble apology for a set of men constrained by circumstances +to earn their living by servitude? The present cry +seems to be to lower their wages. I will state simply a few broad +facts. I am a footman in a family in which I have lived thirteen +years. My master deems my services worth 24 guineas a year. +The question is, is this too much? I will strike the average of +expenditure. I am very economical, it is considered. I find for +washing I pay near £6 a year; shoes, £4 10<i>s.</i>; tea and sugar, +£2 12<i>s.</i>; wearing apparel, say £4 4<i>s.</i>; for books—I am a reader—I +allow myself £1 7<i>s.</i> You will see this amounts to £18 7<i>s.</i> +each year. I include nothing for amusement of any kind, but +say 13<i>s.</i> yearly. I thus account for £19 yearly, leaving £6 for +savings. One or two other things deserve, I think, a slight notice. +What is the character required of a mechanic or labourer? +None. What of a servant? Is he honest, sober, steady, religious, +cleanly, active, industrious, an early riser? Is he married? Wo +be to the poor fellow who does not answer yes to this category of +requests, save the last! The answer is, Your character does not +suit; you will not do for me. Again: does a servant forget himself +for once only, and get tipsy?—he is ruined for life. In a +word, sir, a thorough servant must be sober, steady, honest, and +single; 'he must never marry, must never be absent from his duties, +must attend to his master in sickness or in health, must be +reviled and never reply, must be young, able, good-tempered, +and willing, and think himself overpaid, if at the year's end he +has 5<i>s.</i> to put in his pocket. In old age or sickness he may go +to the workhouse, the only asylum open. In youth he has plenty +of the best, and can get one service when he leaves another, if +his character is good; but when youth deserts him, and age and +sickness creep on, what refuge is there for him? No one will +have him. He is too old for service, that is his answer. In service +he is trusted with valuable articles of every description; and +in what state of life, whether servant or artisan, surely he who is +placed in situations of trust deserves a trifle more of recompense +than is sufficient to pay his way and no more."</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">We have mentioned, in other chapters, some instances +of the cruel treatment of parish children apprenticed +to trades. We have also evidence that those +who are hound out as servants are subjected to the most +brutal tyranny. Occasionally, when the cases become +so outrageous as to be noised abroad, investigations are +held; but these instances are few compared with the +vast number of cases of cruel treatment of which the +public are permitted to hear nothing.</p> + +<p class="i1">In the latter part of December, 1850, one Mr. Sloane, +a special pleader, residing in the Middle Temple, was +guilty of the most frightful cruelty to a servant-girl +named Jane Wilbred, formerly an inmate of the West +London Union. The girl, or some of her friends, complained, +and Mr. Sloane was brought before Alderman +Humphrey, at Guildhall. During the examination, +evidence of the most brutal treatment of the poor girl +was given, and such was the nature of the statements +made on oath that the fury of the people was aroused. +Mr. Sloane was committed for trial. When he was +conveyed to the Compter the mob attacked the cab, and +seemed determined to apply Lynch law. But the +wretch was safely deposited in prison, through the exertions +of the police. He was tried, convicted, and +sentenced to imprisonment; but whether he served out +his sentence we are not informed. This was one case +of punishment for a thousand of impunity.</p> + +<p class="i1">So great was the indignation of the people at the developments +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> +made upon the trial of Sloane, that some +measure of alleviation in regard to parish apprentices +and servants was deemed necessary. The Earl of +Carlisle, (late Lord Morpeth), brought in a bill in the +House of Commons, the object of which was to compel +the parish guardians and the binding magistrates to +watch over and protect the helpless servants and apprentices. +The bill was passed by Parliament; but it +is inoperative and ineffectual. Parish guardians are too +glad to get the children off their hands to take any +steps which might retard the desired consummation; +and the children can easily be prevented from making +complaints to magistrates by the threats of masters +and mistresses, and the common fear of consequences. +In this case, as in all legislation concerning the poor, +the Parliament of Great Britain has proceeded upon +the same principle as the physician who applies external +remedies for diseases which have internal causes. Instead +of endeavouring to remove the great causes of +pauperism—the monopolies of the aristocracy—it only +seeks to render the paupers easier in their condition.</p> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Mayhew, in his "London Labour and the London +Poor," shows that a large number of the vagrants +of London and other English cities, are young persons +who have been servants, and have run away in consequence +of ill-treatment. Rather than be constantly +treated as slaves, the boys prefer to be vagabonds and +the girls prostitutes. They then enjoy a wild kind of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> +freedom, which, with all its filth and vice, has some +share of pleasure, unknown to those who move at the +beck of a master or mistress, and live in constant dread +of the rod.</p> + +<p class="i1">In those countries where society is untainted with +aristocracy, the servant when performing duties is respected +as a human being—with a mind to think and a +heart to feel—one to be reprimanded or discharged +from service for neglect or positive wrong, but never +beaten as a soulless beast. In England, the servant, +to hold a place, must be a most abject, cringing, and +submissive slave. In some countries, the taint of negro +blood keeps a man always in the position of an inferior. +In England, the man of "serf blood," though he be a +Celt or Saxon, is ever treated as a hind by the man of +"noble blood;" and the possession of this same "noble +blood" justifies the most infamous scoundrel in treating +his domestics, not only with contempt, but positive +cruelty. Americans have been charged with having an +undying horror of the negro taint. In England, the +<i>common</i> blood is just as steadily abhorred by the dominant +class. The slavery of servants—their hopeless, +abject, and demoralizing condition—is the result, direct +and unmistakable, of the existence of the aristocracy. +When the serfs are completely freed; when the country +is no longer ruled by a few thousand persons; when a +long line of ancestry and magnificent escutcheons cease +to dignify imbeciles and blackguards; in short, when +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> +England takes a few steps upon that glorious path +which the great American republic has hewn for the +nations of the earth—there will be sure respect for man, +as man; and the servants may have some hope of improving +their condition.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">MENTAL AND MORAL CONDITION OF THE WHITE SLAVES +IN GREAT BRITAIN.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> moral degradation and mental darkness of the +labouring classes in Great Britain in the middle of +the Nineteenth century, are appalling to contemplate. +Beneath the wing of a government professedly Christian, +there is sheltered a vast number of people who +must be characterized as heathen—as fit subjects of +missionary labours, such as are freely given to the dark +sons of India and Africa. They know nothing of God +but his prevailing name; and the Bible's light is hid +from them as completely as if its pages were inscribed +with Egyptian hieroglyphics. Their code of morals is +the creature of their sensual inclinations; their intelligence +seemingly the superior instinct of the animal. +Scotland is far beyond other portions of Great Britain +in the moral and mental cultivation of its people; but +there is a large class in that country to which the above +observations may be justly applied.</p> + +<p class="i1">According to Kay, more than half the poor in England +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> +and Wales cannot read and write, while the majority +of the remainder know nothing of science, history, +geography, music, or drawing, and very little of +the Scripture history. In the great mercantile and +manufacturing towns, it is true that poor men, if they +defer their marriage, and have no extraordinary encumbrances, +may improve their condition; but scarcely +any facilities are offered for their acquiring the intelligence +necessary for the control of passion. The schools +in the towns are wretchedly arranged and managed. +Many are nothing more than "dame schools," conducted +often in cellars or garrets, by poor women, who +know how to read, but who often know nothing else. +The schools for the peasants are still fewer in number, +and inefficient in character; and hence the result, that +the English peasantry are more ignorant and demoralized, +less capable of helping themselves, and +more pauperized, than those of any other country in +Europe, if we except Russia, Turkey, South Italy, and +some parts of the Austrian Empire. A writer in a +recent number of "Household Words," makes some +remarkable statements in regard to the ignorance of +the English masses:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Wherever we turn, ignorance, not always allied to poverty, +stares us in the face. If we look in the Gazette, at the list of +partnerships dissolved, not a month passes but some unhappy +man, rolling perhaps in wealth, but wallowing in ignorance, is put +to the <i>experimentum crucis</i> of 'his mark,' The number of petty +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> +jurors—in rural districts especially—who can only sign with a +cross is enormous. It is not unusual to see parish documents of +great local importance defaced with the same humiliating symbol +by persons whose office shows them to be not only 'men of mark,' +but men of substance. We have printed already specimens of +the partial ignorance which passes under the ken of the post-office +authorities, and we may venture to assert, that such specimens +of penmanship and orthography are not to be matched in +any other country in Europe. A housewife in humble life need +only turn to the file of her tradesmen's bills to discover hieroglyphics +which render them so many arithmetical puzzles. In +short, the practical evidences of the low ebb to which the plainest +rudiments of education in this country has fallen, are too common +to bear repetition. We cannot pass through the streets, we +cannot enter a place of public assembly, or ramble in the fields, +without the gloomy shadow of Ignorance sweeping over us. The +rural population is indeed in a worse plight than the other +classes. We quote—with the attestation of our own experience—the +following passage from one of a series of articles which have +recently appeared in a morning newspaper: 'Taking the adult +class of agricultural labourers, it is almost impossible to exaggerate +the ignorance in which they live and move and have their +being. As they work in the fields, the external world has some +hold upon them through the medium of their senses; but to all +the higher exercises of intellect they are perfect strangers. You +cannot address one of them without being at once painfully +struck with the intellectual darkness which enshrouds him. +There is in general neither speculation in his eyes nor intelligence +in his countenance. The whole expression is more that of +an animal than of a man. He is wanting, too, in the erect and +independent bearing of a man. When you accost him, if he is +not insolent—which he seldom is—he is timid and shrinking, his +whole manner showing that he feels himself at a distance from +you greater than should separate any two classes of men. He is +often doubtful when you address, and suspicious when you question +him; he is seemingly oppressed with the interview while it +lasts, and obviously relieved when it is over. These are the traits +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> +which I can affirm them to possess as a class, after having come +in contact with many hundreds of farm labourers. They belong +to a generation for whose intellectual culture little or nothing was +done. As a class, they have no amusements beyond the indulgence +of sense. In nine cases out of ten, recreation is associated +in their minds with nothing higher than sensuality. I have frequently +asked clergymen and others, if they often find the adult +peasant reading for his own or others' amusement? The invariable +answer is, that such a sight is seldom or never witnessed. +In the first place, <i>the great bulk of them cannot read</i>. In the next, +a large proportion of those who can, do so with too much difficulty +to admit of the exercise being an amusement to them. +Again, few of those who can read with comparative ease, have +the taste for doing so. It is but justice to them to say that many +of those who cannot read have bitterly regretted, in my hearing, +their inability to do so. I shall never forget the tone in which an +old woman in Cornwall intimated to me what a comfort it would +now be to her could she only read her Bible in her lonely +hours.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">From statistics given by Kay, it is apparent that the +proportional amount of crime to population, calculated +in two years, 1841 and 1847, was greater in almost all +the agricultural counties of England than it was in the +mining and manufacturing districts. The peasants of +England must be subjected to a singularly demoralizing +system to produce so terrible a result. The extreme +poverty of the agricultural labourers is the great stimulant +to crime of all kinds; but the darkness of ignorance +is also a powerful agent. Poverty renders the peasants +desperate, and they are too ignorant to see the consequences +of crime.</p> + +<p class="i1">In a former part of this work, it was mentioned that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> +the miserable cottages in which the peasants are compelled +to reside have considerable influence in demoralizing +them. This deserves to be fully illustrated. +The majority of the cottages have but two small rooms; +in one of which husband and wife, young men and +young women, boys and girls, and, very often, a married +son and his wife all sleep together. Kay says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The accounts we receive from all parts of the country show +that these miserable cottages are crowded to an extreme, and that +the crowding is progressively increasing. People of both sexes, +and of all ages, both married and unmarried—parents, brothers, +sisters, and strangers—sleep in the same rooms and often in the +same beds. One gentlemen tells us of six people of different sexes +and ages, two of whom were man and wife, sleeping in the same +bed, three with their heads at the top and three with their heads +at the foot of the bed. Another tells us of adult uncles and nieces +sleeping in the same room close to each other; another, of the +uncles and nieces sleeping in the same bed together; another, of +adult brothers and sisters sleeping in the same room with a +brother and his wife just married; many tell us of adult brothers +and sisters sleeping in the same beds; another tells us of rooms +so filled with beds that there is no space between them, but that +brothers, sisters, and parents crawl over each other half naked in +order to get to their respective resting-places; another, of its being +common for men and women, not being relations, to undress together +in the same room, without any feeling of its being indelicate; +another, of cases where women have been delivered in bedrooms +crowded with men, young women, and children; and others mention +facts of these crowded bedrooms much too horrible to be +alluded to. Nor are these solitary instances, but similar reports +are given by gentlemen writing in <span class="sc">ALL</span> parts of the country."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The young peasants from their earliest years are +accustomed to sleep in the same bedrooms with people +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> +of both sexes; and they lose all sense of the indecency +of such a life, taking wives before they are twenty years +of age to sleep in the same room with their parents. +The policy now pursued by the aristocratic landlords, +of clearing their estates, tends to crowd the cottages +which are allowed to remain, and thus the demoralization +of the peasantry is stimulated. Adultery is the +very mildest form of the vast amount of crime which it +is engendering. Magistrates, clergymen, surgeons, and +parish-officers bear witness that cases of incest are increasing +in all parts of the country. An eminent +writer represents the consequences of the state of the +peasant's cottages in England and Wales in the following +startling, but unexaggerated terms:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"A man and woman intermarry, and take a cottage. In eight +cases out of ten it is a cottage with but two rooms. For a time, +so far as room at least is concerned, this answers their purpose; +but they take it, not because it is at the time sufficiently spacious +for them, but because they could not procure a more roomy dwelling, +even if they desired it. In this they pass with tolerable comfort, +considering their notions of what comfort is, the first period +of married life; but, by-and-by they have children, and the family +increases, until, in the course of a few years, they number, perhaps, +from eight to ten individuals. But in all this time there +has been no increase to their household accommodation. As at +first, so to the very last, there is but the <span class="sc">ONE SLEEPING-ROOM</span>. As +the family increases, additional beds are crammed into this apartment, +until at last it is so filled with them, that there is scarcely +room left to move between them. <i>I have known instances in which +they had to crawl over each other to get to their beds.</i> So long as +the children are very young, the only evil connected with this is +the physical one arising from crowding so many people together +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> +into what is generally a dingy, frequently a damp, and invariably +an ill-ventilated apartment. But years steal on, and the family +continues thus bedded together. Some of its members may yet +be in their infancy, but others of both sexes have crossed the line +of puberty. But there they are, still together in the same room—the +father and mother, the sons and the daughters—young men, +young women, and children. Cousins, too, of both sexes, are +often thrown together into the same room, <i>and not unfrequently into +the same bed</i>. I have also known of cases in which uncles slept +in the same room with their grown-up nieces, and newly-married +couples occupied the same chamber with those long married, and +with others marriageable but unmarried. A case also came to +my notice, already alluded to in connection with another branch +of the subject, in which two sisters, who were married on the +same day, occupied adjoining rooms in the same hut, with nothing +but a thin board partition, which did not reach the ceiling, between +the two rooms, and a door in the partition which only +partly filled up the doorway. For years back, in these same two +rooms, have slept twelve people of both sexes and all ages. +Sometimes, when there is but one room, a praiseworthy effort is +made for the conservation of decency. But the hanging up of a +piece of tattered cloth between the beds, which is generally all +that is done in this respect, and even that but seldom, is but a +poor set-off to the fact, that a family, which, in common decency, +should, as regards sleeping accommodations, be separated at least +into three divisions, occupy, night after night, but one and the +same chamber. This is a frightful position for them to be in +when an infectious or epidemic disease enters their abode. But +this, important though it be, is the least important consideration +connected with their circumstances. That which is most so, is +the effect produced by them upon their habits and morals. In +the illicit intercourse to which such a position frequently gives +rise, <i>it is not always that the tie of blood is respected</i>. Certain it +is, that when the relationship is even but one degree removed +from that of brother and sister, that tie is frequently overlooked. +And when the circumstances do not lead to such horrible consequences, +the mind, particularly of the female, is wholly divested +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> +of that sense of delicacy and shame, which, so long as they are +preserved, are the chief safeguards of her chastity. She therefore +falls an early and an easy prey to the temptations which beset +her beyond the immediate circle of her family. People in the +other spheres of life are but little aware of the extent to which +this precocious demoralization of the female among the lower +orders in the country has proceeded. But how could it be otherwise? +The philanthropist may exert himself in their behalf, the +moralist may inculcate even the worldly advantages of a better +course of life, and the minister of religion may warn them of the +eternal penalties which they are incurring; but there is an instructor +constantly at work, more potent than them all—an instructor +in mischief, of which they must get rid ere they can +make any real progress in their laudable efforts—and that is, <i>the +single bedchamber in the two-roomed cottage</i>."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">But such cottages will continue to be the dwellings +of the peasantry until the system of lord and serf is +abolished, until they can obtain ground of their own, +and have no fear of eviction at a moment's notice. It +has often been a matter of wonder that there is less discontent +and murmuring among the miserable peasants +than among the workmen in the manufacturing towns. +The reason lies upon the surface. The workmen in the +factories are generally more intelligent than the agricultural +labourers, and have a keen feeling of their +degradation. It requires a certain degree of elevation +to render a man discontented. The wallowing pig is +satisfied.</p> + +<p class="i1">We need not be surprised to find that where so much +misery prevails crime is frightfully frequent. The +"Times" of the 30th of November, 1849, shows the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> +terrible increase of crime in the last few years in Dorsetshire. +The "Times" says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"We yesterday published, in a very short compass, some grave +particulars of the unfortunate county of Dorset. It is not simply +the old story of wages inadequate for life, hovels unfit for habitation, +and misery and sin alternately claiming our pity and our +disgust. This state of things is so normal, and we really believe +so immemorial in that notorious county, that we should rather +deaden than excite the anxiety of the public by a thrice-told tale. +What compels our attention just now is a sudden, rapid, and, we +fear, a forced aggravation of these evils, measured by the infallible +test of crime. Dorsetshire is fast sinking into a slough of wretchedness, +which threatens the peace and morality of the kingdom at +large. The total number of convictions, which</p> + +<p class="ml5">"In 1846 was 798, and<br /> +"In 1847 was 821, mounted up,<br /> +"In 1848, to 950;</p> + +<p class="i1">"and up to the special general session, last Tuesday, (Dec. 1849,) +for less than eleven months of the present year, to the astonishing +number of 1193, being at the rate of 1300 for the whole year! +Unless something is done to stop this flood of crime, or the tide +happily turns of itself, the county will have more than <i>doubled</i> its +convictions within four years! Nor is it possible for us to take +refuge in the thought that the increase is in petty offences. In no +respect is it a light thing for a poor creature to be sent to jail, +whatever be the offence. He has broken the laws of his country, +and forfeited his character. His name and his morals are alike +tainted with the jail. He is degraded and corrupted. If his +spirit be not crushed, it is exasperated into perpetual hostility to +wealth and power.</p> + +<hr class="sect" /> + +<p class="i1">"It is, then, no light affair that a rural county, the abode of an +ancient and respectable aristocracy, somewhat removed from the +popular influences of the age, with a population of 175,043 by the +late census, should produce in four years near 4000 convictions, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> +being at the rate of one conviction in that period for every sixty +persons, or every twelve householders."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">We might express our doubts of the real respectability +of the ancient aristocracy of Dorsetshire. They +do not injure society in a way of which the laws take +notice; but had they nothing to do with the making +of the 4000 criminals? In 1834, an English writer +estimated that about 120,000 of the people were always +in jail. At the present time the number is still +greater.</p> + +<p class="i1">The humane and able author of "Letters on Rural +Districts," published in the "Morning Chronicle" of +London, thus speaks of the frightful immorality among +the agricultural population of Norfolk and Suffolk counties:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"One species of immorality, which is peculiarly prevalent in +Norfolk and Suffolk, is that of bastardy. With the exception of +Hereford and Cumberland, there are no counties in which the percentage +of bastardy is so high as it is in Norfolk—being there +53.1 per cent. above the average of England and Wales; in Suffolk +it is 27 per cent. above, and in Essex 19.1 per cent. below the +average. In the two first-named counties, and even in the latter +one, though not to the same extent, <i>there appears to be a perfect +want of decency among the people</i>. 'The immorality of the young +women,' said the rector of one parish to me, 'is literally horrible, +and I regret to say it is on the increase in a most extraordinary +degree. When I first came to the town, the mother of a bastard +child used to be ashamed to show herself. The case is now +quite altered; no person seems to think any thing at all of it. +When I first came to the town, there was no such thing as a +common prostitute in it; now there is an enormous number of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> +them. When I am called upon to see a woman confined with an +illegitimate child, I endeavour to impress upon her the enormity +of the offence; and there are no cases in which I receive more +insult from those I visit than from such persons. They generally +say they'll get on as well, after all that's said about it; and if they +never do any thing worse than that, they shall get to heaven as +well as other people.' Another clergyman stated to me, that he +never recollected an instance of his having married a woman who +was not either pregnant at the time of her marriage, or had had +one or more children before her marriage. Again, a third clergyman +told me, that he went to baptize the illegitimate child of one +woman, who was thirty-five years of age, and it was absolutely +impossible for him to convince her that what she had done was +wrong. 'There appears,' said he, 'to be among the lower orders +a perfect deadness of all moral feeling upon this subject.' Many +of the cases of this kind, which have come under my knowledge, +evince such horrible depravity, that I dare not attempt to lay them +before the reader. Speaking to the wife of a respectable labourer +on the subject, who had seven children, one of whom was then +confined with an illegitimate child, she excused her daughter's +conduct by saying, 'What was the poor girl to do! The chaps say +that they won't marry 'em first, and then the girls give way. I +did the same myself with my husband.' There was one case in +Cossey, in Norfolk, in which the woman told me, without a blush +crimsoning her cheek, that her daughter and self had each had +a child by a sweep, who lodged with them, and who promised +to marry the daughter. The cottage in which these persons slept +consisted of but one room, and there were two other lodgers who +occupied beds in the same room; in one of which 'a young woman +occasionally slept with the young man she was keeping company +with.' The other lodger was an old woman of seventy-four +years of age. To such an extent is prostitution carried on in +Norwich, that out of the 656 licensed public-houses and beer-shops +in the city, there are not less than 220, which are known to the +police as common brothels. And, although the authorities have +the power of withholding the licenses, nothing is done to put a +stop to the frightful vice."</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">A want of chastity is universal among the female +peasants of Wales, arising chiefly from the herding of +many persons in the small cottages. In the vicinity of +the mines, the average of inhabitants to a house is said +to be nearly twelve. The Rev. John Griffith, vicar of +Aberdare, says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Nothing can be lower, I would say more degrading, than the +character in which the women stand relative to the men. The +men and the women, married as well as single, live in the same +house, <i>and sleep in the same room</i>. The men do not hesitate to +wash themselves naked before the women; on the other hand, the +women do not hesitate to change their under garments before the +men. Promiscuous intercourse is most common, is thought of as +nothing, and the women do not lose caste by it."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The Welsh are peculiarly exempt from the guilt of +great crimes. But petty thefts, lying, cozening, every +species of chicanery and drunkenness are common +among the agricultural population, and are regarded as +matters of course.</p> + +<p class="i1">Infanticide is practised to a terrible extent in England +and Wales. In most of the large provincial towns, +"burial clubs" exist. A small sum is paid every year by +the parent, and this entitles him to receive from £3 to £5 +from the club on the death of the child. Many persons +enter their children in several clubs; and, as the burial +of the child does not necessarily cost more than £1, or +at the most £1 10<i>s.</i>, the parent realizes a considerable +sum after all the expenses are paid. For the sake of +this money, it has become common to cause the death +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> +of the children, either by starvation, ill-usage, or poison. +No more horrible symptom of moral degradation could +be conceived.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Chadwick says,<a name="FNanchor_101_101" id="FNanchor_101_101"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a> +'officers of these burial societies, relieving +officers, and others, whose administrative duties put them in +communication with the lowest classes in these districts, (the +manufacturing districts,) express their moral conviction of the +operation of such bounties to produce instances of the visible neglect +of children of which they are witnesses. They often say—You +are not treating that child properly, it will not live; <i>is it in +the club</i>? And the answer corresponds with the impression produced +by the sight.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Mr. Gardiner, the clerk of the Manchester union, while +registering the causes of death, deemed the cause assigned by a +labouring man for the death of a child unsatisfactory, and staying +to inquire, found that popular rumour assigned the death to wilful +starvation. The child (according to a statement of the case) +had been entered in at least <i>ten</i> burial clubs; <i>and its parents had +had six other children, who only lived from nine to eighteen months +respectively</i>. They had received from several burial clubs twenty +pounds for <i>one</i> of these children, and they expected at least as +much on account of this child. An inquest was held at Mr. Gardiner's +instance, when several persons, who had known the deceased, +stated that she was a fine fat child shortly after her birth, +but that she soon became quite thin, was badly clothed, and +seemed as if she did not get a sufficiency of food.... The jury, +having expressed it as their opinion that the evidence of the +parents was made up for the occasion and entitled to no credit, +returned the following verdict:—Died through want of nourishment, +but whether occasioned by a deficiency of food, or by disease +of the liver and spine brought on by improper food and drink +or otherwise, does not appear.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Two similar cases came before Mr. Coppock, the clerk and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> +superintendent-registrar of the Stockport union, in both of which +he prosecuted the parties for murder. In one case, where three +children had been poisoned with arsenic, the father was tried with +the mother and convicted at Chester, and sentenced to be transported +for life, but the mother was acquitted. In the other case, +where the judge summed up for a conviction, the accused, the +father, was, to the astonishment of every one, acquitted. In this +case the body was exhumed after interment, and <i>arsenic was +detected in the stomach</i>. In consequence of the suspicion raised +upon the death on which the accusation was made in the first +case, the bodies of two other children were taken up and examined, +when <i>arsenic was found in their stomachs</i>. In all these cases +payments on the deaths of the children were insured from the +burial clubs; the cost of the coffin and burial dues would not be +more than about one pound, and the allowance from the club is +three pounds.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'It is remarked on these dreadful cases by the superintendent-registrar, +<i>that the children who were boys, and therefore likely +to be useful to the parents, were not poisoned</i>; the female children +were the victims. It was the clear opinion of the medical officers +that infanticides have been committed in Stockport to obtain the +burial money.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Such parents must be placed upon a level with the +swine that devour their farrow. We are led to doubt +whether they could sink much lower in the animal +scale; poverty and ignorance seem to have thoroughly +quenched the spark of humanity. The author of "Letters +on Labour, and the Poor in the Rural Districts," +writing of the burial clubs in the eastern counties, says:</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The suspicion that a great deal of 'foul play' exists with respect +to these clubs is supported, not only by a comparison of the +different rates of mortality, but it is considerably strengthened +by the facts proved upon the trial of Mary May. The Rev. Mr. +Wilkins, the vicar of Wickes, who was mainly instrumental in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> +bringing the case before a court of justice, stated to me that, from +the time of Mary May coming to live in his parish, he was determined +to keep a very strict watch upon her movements, as he had +heard that <i>fourteen of her children had previously died suddenly</i>.</p> + +<p class="i1">"A few weeks after her arrival in his parish, she called upon +him to request him to bury one of her children. Upon his asking +her which of the children it was, she told him that it was Eliza, +a fine healthy-looking child of ten years old. Upon his expressing +some surprise that she should have died so suddenly, she said, +'Oh, sir, she went off like a snuff; all my other children did so +too.' A short time elapsed, and she again waited upon the vicar +to request him to bury her brother as soon as he could. His suspicions +were aroused, and he endeavoured to postpone the funeral +for a few days, in order to enable him to make some inquiries. +Not succeeding in obtaining any information which would warrant +further delay in burying the corpse, he most reluctantly +proceeded in the discharge of his duty.</p> + +<p class="i1">"About a week after the funeral, Mary May again waited upon +him to request him to sign a certificate to the effect that her brother +was in perfect health a fortnight before he died, that being +the time at which, as it subsequently appeared, she had entered +him as nominee in the Harwich Burial Club. Upon inquiring as +to the reason of her desiring this certificate, she told him that, +unless she got it, she could not get the money for him from the +club. This at once supplied the vicar with what appeared to be +a motive for 'foul play' on the part of the woman. He accordingly +obtained permission to have the body of her brother exhumed; +doses of arsenic were detected, and the woman was arrested. +With the evidence given upon the trial the reader is, no +doubt, perfectly conversant, and it will be unnecessary for me to +detail it. She was convicted. Previously to her execution she +refused to make any confession, but said, 'If I were to tell all +I know, it would give the hangman work for the next twelve +months.' Undue weight ought not to be attached to the declaration +of such a woman as Mary May; but, coupled with the disclosures +that took place upon the trial with respect to some of her +neighbours and accomplices, and with the extraordinary rate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> +of mortality among the clubs, it certainly does appear that the +general opinion with respect to the mischievous effects of these +societies is not altogether without foundation.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Although there are not in Essex, at present, any burial clubs +in which children are admitted under fourteen years of age as +members or nominees, still, as illustrating the evils arising from +these clubs, I may state that many persons who are fully conversant +with the working of such institutions have stated that they +have frequently been shocked by hearing women of the lower +classes, when speaking of a neighbour's child, make use of such +expressions as, 'Oh, depend upon it, the child'll not live; it's in +the burial club.' When speaking to the parents of a child who +may be unwell, it is not unfrequently that they say, 'You should +do so and so,' or, 'You should not do so and so;' '<i>You should +not treat it in that way; is it in the burial club</i>?' Instances of the +most culpable neglect, if not of graver offences, are continually +occurring in districts where clubs exist in which children are +admitted. A collector of one of the most extensive burial societies +gave it as his opinion, founded upon his experience, that it +had become a constant practice to neglect the children for the +sake of the allowance from the clubs; and he supported his +opinion by several cases which had come under his own observation."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">A vast number of other facts, of equally shocking +character, have been ascertained. The Rev. J. Clay, +chaplain of the Preston House of Correction, in a +sanitary report, makes some statements of a nature to +startle:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"It appears, on the unimpeachable authority of a burial-club +official, that '<i>hired nurses speculate on the lives of infants committed +to their care, by entering them in burial clubs</i>;' that 'two young +women proposed to enter a child into his club, and to pay the +weekly premium alternately. Upon inquiring as to the relation +subsisting between the two young women and the child, he learned +that the infant was placed at nurse with the mother of one of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span> +these young women,' The wife of a clergymen told me that, +visiting a poor district just when a child's death had occurred, +instead of hearing from the neighbours the language of sympathy +for the bereaved parent, she was shocked by such observations +as—'Ah! it's a fine thing for the mother, the child's in two clubs!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"As regards one town, I possess some evidence of the amount +of burial-club membership and of infant mortality, which I beg +to lay before you. The reports of this town refer to 1846, when +the population of the town amounted to about 61,000. I do not +name the town, because, as no actual burial-club murders are +known to have been committed in it, and as such clubs are not +more patronized there than in other places, it is, perhaps, not +fair to hold it up to particular animadversion; indeed, as to its +general character, this very town need not fear comparison with +any other. Now this place, with its sixty-one thousand people +of all classes and ages, maintains at least eleven burial clubs, the +members of which amount in the aggregate to nearly fifty-two +thousand; nor are these all. Sick clubs, remember, act as burial +clubs. Of these there are twelve or fourteen in the town, mustering +altogether, probably, two thousand members. Here, then, +we have good data for comparing population with '<i>death lists</i>;' +but it will be necessary, in making the comparison, to deduct +from the population all that part of it which has nothing to do +with these clubs, viz. all infants under two months old, and all +persons of unsound health, (both of these classes being excluded +by the club rules;) all those also of the working classes, whose +sound intelligence and feeling lead them to abhor burial-club +temptations; and all the better classes, to whom five or twenty +pounds offer no consolation for the death of a child. On the +hypothesis that these deductions will amount to one-sixth of the +entire population, it results that the <i>death lists</i> are more numerous +by far than the entire mass—old, young, and infants—which support +them; and, according to the statement of a leading death-list +officer, <i>three-fourths</i> of the names on these catalogues of the doomed +are the names of children. Now, if this be the truth—and I believe +it is—hundreds, if not thousands of children must be entered +each into <i>four</i>, <i>five</i>, or even <i>twelve</i> clubs, their chances of life +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> +diminishing, of course, in proportion to the frequency with which +they are entered. Lest you should imagine that such excessive +addiction to burial clubs is only to be found in one place, I +furnish you with a report for 1846, of a single club, which then +boasted thirty-four thousand one hundred members, <i>the entire +population of the town to which it belongs having been, in 1841, little +more than thirty-six thousand</i>!"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The authorities from whom these statements are +derived are of the highest respectability; they hear +witness to a state of affairs scarcely to be conceived by +people of other civilized countries. Hundreds of thousands +of human beings seem to be driven into an awful +abyss of crime and misery by the iron rule of the aristocracy—an +abyss where mothers forget maternal feelings, +where marriage vows are scoffed, and where the +momentary gratification of brutal passions is alone +esteemed. There, indeed, there is no fear of God, and +heathenism spreads its upas shade to poison and destroy.</p> + +<p class="i1">The only amusement which the English poor possess +in many parts of the country, is to visit taverns. In +the towns the "gin-palaces" and the beer-houses are +very numerous; and whenever the poor have leisure, +these places are thronged by drunken men and abandoned +women. In all the rural districts there is a +frightful amount of drunkenness. British legislation +has increased the number of these hot-beds of crime +and pauperism.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In the beginning of the revolutionary war the duties on malt +were <i>augmented</i>, and in 1825 the duties on spirits were <i>decreased</i>. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> +It was thus that whisky was substituted for ale as the beverage +of the Scotch, and that gin and brandy began to be generally +drunk by the English poor.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The consumption of spirits immediately increased in a tremendous +proportion. From 4,132,263 gallons, the consumption +in 1825, it rose in one year to 8,888,648 gallons; that is, the consumption +was <i>in one year</i> more than <i>doubled</i> by the change; and +from that period, with the exception of the year next following, +viz. 1827, the consumption has been progressively augmenting.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Since that time the noted beer-shop act has been passed. By +that act, any one was enabled to obtain a license to enable him +to sell beer, whether the person desirous of doing so was a person +of respectable character or not.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But this was the least of the evils which were effected by that +act. A clause, which was still more injurious, was that which +prescribed that the liquor <i>must be drunk upon the premises of the +beer-house</i>, i. e. either in the beer-house or on a bench just outside +the door.</p> + +<p class="i1">"This has the effect in many cases, where the poor would +otherwise take the beer home to their own cottages, of forcing the +young men who wish to have a little to drink, to sit down and +take it in the society of the worst people of the neighbourhood, +who always, as a matter of course, spend their leisure in the +tavern. I am convinced that nothing can be more injurious in +its effects upon the poor than this clause. It may be said to +<i>force</i> the honest labourers into the society and companionship of +the most depraved, and so necessarily to demoralize the young +and honest labourer.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The following is the number of gallons of <i>native</i> proof spirits +on which duty was paid for home consumption in the United +Kingdom, in the undermentioned years:—</p> + +<table class="narrow" id="POPULATION_DECREASE-3" summary="Population Decrease"> + <tr> + <th>Years</th> + <th>Gallons.</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1843</td> + <td class="c1">18,841,890</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1844</td> + <td class="c1">20,608,525</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1845</td> + <td class="c1">23,122,588</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1846</td> + <td class="c1">24,106,697</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"To the above must be added the number of gallons of foreign +and colonial spirits retained for home consumption, as follows:—</p> + +<table class="narrow" id="FOREIGN_SPIRITS" summary="Foreign and Colonial Spirits "> + <tr> + <th>Years</th> + <th style="text-align:center;">No. of Gallons of Foreign, &c. Spirits.</th> + <th style="text-align:center;">No. of Gallons of Home and Foreign Spirits consumed in the + United Kingdom.</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1843</td> + <td class="c3">3,161,957</td> + <td class="c3">22,026,289</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1844</td> + <td class="c3">3,242,606</td> + <td class="c3">22,042,905</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1845</td> + <td class="c3">3,549,889</td> + <td class="c3">26,672,477</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">1846</td> + <td class="c3">4,252,237</td> + <td class="c3">28,360,934</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p class="i1">"From the above statistics it appears that the consumption +of spirits in the United Kingdom is increasing much more rapidly +than the population!</p> + +<p class="i1">"The number of licenses granted to retailers of spirits or beer +amounted, in 1845, to 237,345; that is, there was to be found, in +1845, a retailer of beer or spirits in every 115 of the population! +Of the beer licenses, 68,086 were for dwellings rated under £20 +per annum, and 35,340 were licenses for premises rated under +£10 per annum! This shows how large a proportion of the beer-shops +are situated in the poorest districts, for the use of the +poorest classes.<a name="FNanchor_102_102" id="FNanchor_102_102"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a></p></div> + +<p class="i1">There is a section of London, which in 1847 had +2000 inhabitants, one butcher's shop, two bakers' +shops, and seventeen beer-houses. The total cost of +the spirits and beer consumed in the United Kingdom +was, in 1848, estimated at £65,000,000, a sum greater, +by several millions, than the whole revenue of the +government. The inimitable Dickens has given us a +vivid sketch of a London gin-palace and its attendants. +He says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The extensive scale on which these places are established, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> +and the ostentatious manner in which the business of even the +smallest among them is divided into branches, is most amusing. +A handsome plate of ground glass in one door directs you 'To +the Counting-house;' another to the 'Bottle Department;' a third +to the 'Wholesale Department,' a fourth to the 'Wine Promenade;' +and so forth, until we are in daily expectation of meeting +with a 'Brandy Bell,' or a 'Whisky Entrance.' Then ingenuity +is exhausted in devising attractive titles for the different descriptions +of gin; and the dram-drinking portion of the community, +as they gaze upon the gigantic black and white announcements, +which are only to be equalled in size by the figures beneath them, +are left in a state of pleasing hesitation between 'The Cream of +the Valley,' 'The Out and Out,' 'The No Mistake,' 'The Good +for Mixing,' 'The real Knock-me-down,' 'The celebrated Butter +Gin,' 'The regular Flare-up,' and a dozen other equally inviting +and wholesome <i>liqueurs</i>. Although places of this description +are to be met with in every second street, they are invariably +numerous and splendid in precise proportion to the dirt and +poverty of the surrounding neighbourhood. The gin-shops in +and near Drury-lane, Holborn, St. Giles's, Covent-garden, and +Clare-market, are the handsomest in London. There is more of +filth and squalid misery near those great thoroughfares than in +any part of this mighty city.</p> + +<p class="i1">"We will endeavour to sketch the bar of a large gin-shop, and +its ordinary customers, for the edification of such of our readers +as may not have had opportunities of observing such scenes; and +on the chance of finding one well suited to our purpose we will +make for Drury-lane, through the narrow streets and dirty courts +which divide it from Oxford street, and that classical spot adjoining +the brewery at the bottom of Tottenham-court-road, best +known to the initiated as the 'Rookery.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The filthy and miserable appearance of this part of London +can hardly be imagined by those (and there are many such) who +have not witnessed it. Wretched houses with broken windows +patched with rags and paper, every room let out to a different +family, and in many instances to two or even three; fruit and +'sweet-stuff' manufacturers in the cellars, barbers and red-herring +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> +venders in the front parlours, and cobblers in the back; a +bird-fancier in the first floor, three families on the second, starvation +in the attics, Irishmen in the passage; a 'musician' in the +front kitchen, and a charwoman and five hungry children in the +back one—filth everywhere—a gutter before the houses and a +drain behind them—clothes drying and slops emptying from the +windows; girls of fourteen or fifteen with matted hair, walking +about barefooted, and in white great-coats, almost their only +covering; boys of all ages, in coats of all sizes and no coats at +all; men and women, in every variety of scanty and dirty apparel, +lounging, scolding, drinking, smoking, squabbling, fighting, +and swearing.</p> + +<p class="i1">"You turn the corner, what a change! All is light and brilliancy. +The hum of many voices issues from that splendid gin-shop +which forms the commencement of the two streets opposite, +and the gay building with the fantastically ornamented parapet, +the illuminated clock, the plate-glass windows surrounded by +stucco rosettes, and its profusion of gas-lights in richly gilt +burners, is perfectly dazzling when contrasted with the darkness +and dirt we have just left. The interior is even gayer than the +exterior. A bar of French polished mahogany, elegantly carved, +extends the whole width of the place; and there are two side-aisles +of great casks, painted green and gold, enclosed within a +light brass rail, and bearing such inscriptions as 'Old Tom, 549;' +'Young Tom, 360;' 'Samson, 1421.' Beyond the bar is a lofty +and spacious saloon, full of the same enticing vessels, with a gallery +running round it, equally well furnished. On the counter, +in addition to the usual spirit apparatus, are two or three little +baskets of cakes and biscuits, which are carefully secured at the +top with wicker-work, to prevent their contents being unlawfully +abstracted. Behind it are two showily-dressed damsels with +large necklaces, dispensing the spirits and 'compounds.' They +are assisted by the ostensible proprietor of the concern, a stout +coarse fellow in a fur cap, put on very much on one side, to give +him a knowing air, and display his sandy whiskers to the best +advantage.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It is growing late, and the throng of men, women, and children, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> +who have been constantly going in and out, dwindles down +to two or three occasional stragglers—cold, wretched-looking +creatures, in the last stage of emaciation and disease. The knot +of Irish labourers at the lower end of the place, who have been +alternately shaking hands with, and threatening the life of, each +other for the last hour, become furious in their disputes, and finding +it impossible to silence one man, who is particularly anxious +to adjust the difference, they resort to the infallible expedient of +knocking him down and jumping on him afterward. The man +in the fur cap and the potboy rush out; a scene of riot and confusion +ensues; half the Irishmen get shut out, and the other half +get shut in; the potboy is knocked among the tubs in no time; +the landlord hits everybody, and everybody hits the landlord; +the barmaids scream; the police come in; and the rest is a confused +mixture of arms, legs, staves, torn coats, shouting, and +struggling. Some of the party are borne off to the station-house, +and the remainder slink home to beat their wives for complaining, +and kick the children for daring to be hungry."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The neglected and frightfully wretched condition of +a great part of the juvenile population in the British +towns has frequently excited the attention of philanthropic +Englishmen. On the 6th of June, 1848, Lord +Ashley made a speech on juvenile destitution in the +House of Commons, in which he drew an awful picture +of misery and degradation. He showed that in the +midst of London there is a large and continually increasing +number of lawless persons, forming a separate +class, having pursuits, interests, manners, and customs +of their own. These are quite independent of the +number of mere pauper children who crowd the streets +of London, and who never attend a school. The lawless +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> +class were estimated by Lord Ashley to number +thirty thousand.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Of 1600 who were examined, 162 confessed that they had +been in prison, not merely once, or even twice, but some of them +several times; 116 had run away from their homes; 170 slept in +the 'lodging houses;' 253 had lived altogether by beggary; 216 +had neither shoes nor stockings; 280 had no hat or cap, or covering +for the head; 101 had no linen; 249 had never slept in a +bed; many had no recollection of ever having been in a bed; +68 were the children of convicts.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In 1847 it was found that of 4000 examined, 400 confessed +that they had been in prison, 660 lived by beggary, 178 were the +children of convicts, and 800 had lost one or both their parents. +Now, what was the employment of these people? They might +be classed as street-sweepers; vendors of lucifer matches, +oranges, cigars, tapes, and ballads; they held horses, ran +errands, jobbed for 'dealers in marine stores,' that being the +euphonious term for receivers of stolen goods—an influential race +in the metropolis, but for whose agency a very large proportion +of juvenile crime would be extinguished. It might be asked, +how did the large number who never slept in bed pass the night? +In all manner of places: under dry arches of bridges and viaducts, +under porticos, sheds, carts in outhouses, sawpits, or +staircases, or in the open air, and some in lodging-houses. Curious, +indeed, was their mode of life. One boy, during the inclement +period of 1847, passed the greater part of his nights in the +large iron roller in the Regent's Park. He climbed over the +railings, and crept to the roller, where he lay in comparative +security.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Lord Ashley says, 'many of them were living in the dry +arches of houses not finished, inaccessible except by an aperture, +only large enough to admit the body of a man. When a lantern +was thrust in, six or eight, ten or twelve people might be found +lying together. Of those whom we found thus lodged, we invited +a great number to come the following day, and there an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span> +examination was instituted. The number examined was 33. +Their ages varied from 12 to 18, and some were younger. 24 had +no parents, 6 had one, 3 had stepmothers, 20 had no shirts, 9 no +shoes, 12 had been once in prison, 3 twice, 3 four times, 1 eight +times, and 1 (only 14 years old) twelve times. The physical condition +of these children was exceedingly bad; they were a prey to +vermin, they were troubled with itch, they were begrimed with +dirt, not a few were suffering from sickness, and two or three +days afterward several died from disease and the effects of +starvation. I privately examined eight or ten. I was anxious +to obtain from them the truth. I examined them separately, +taking them into a room alone. I said, "I am going to ask you +a variety of questions, to which I trust you will give me true answers, +and I will undertake to answer any question you may +put." They thought that a fair bargain. I put to several of +them the question, "How often have you slept in a bed during +the last three years?" One said, perhaps twelve times, another +three times, another could not remember that he ever had. I +asked them, how they passed the night in winter. They said, +"We lie eight or ten together, to keep ourselves warm." I entered +on the subject of their employments and modes of living. +They fairly confessed they had no means of subsistence but begging +and stealing. The only way of earning a penny in a legitimate +way was by picking up old bones. But they fairly +acknowledged for themselves and others scattered over the town, +with whom they professed themselves acquainted, that they had +not and could not have any other means of subsistence than by +begging and stealing. A large proportion of these young persons +were at a most dangerous age for society. What was the +moral condition of those persons? A large proportion of them +(it was no fault of theirs) did not recognise the distinctive rights +of <i>meum</i> and <i>tuum</i>. Property appeared to them to be only the +aggregate of plunder. They held that every thing which was possessed +was common stock; that he who got most was the cleverest +fellow, and that every one had a right to abstract from that stock +what he could by his own ingenuity. Was it matter of surprise +that they entertained those notions, which were instilled into +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> +their minds from the time they were able to creep on all fours—that +not only did they disregard all the rights of property, but +gloried in doing so, unless they thought the avowal would bring +them within the grasp of the law. To illustrate their low state +of morality, and to show how utterly shameless they were in +speaking on these subjects, I would, mention what had passed at +a ragged school to which fourteen or fifteen boys, having presented +themselves on a Sunday evening, were admitted as they +came. They sat down, and the lesson proceeded. The clock +struck eight. They all rose with the exception of one little boy. +The master took him by the arm and said, "You must remain; +the lesson is not over." The reply was, "We must go to business." +The master inquired what business? "We must all go +to catch them as they come out of the chapels." It was necessary +for them, according to the remark of this boy, to go at a +certain time in pursuit of their calling. They had no remorse +or shame, in making the avowal, because they believed that there +were no other means of saving themselves from starvation. I +recollect a very graphic remark made by one of those children in +perfect simplicity, but which yet showed the horrors of their position. +The master had been pointing out to him the terrors of +punishment in after-life. The remark of the boy was, "That +may be so, but I don't think it can be any worse than this world +has been to me." Such was the condition of hundreds and +thousands.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">A large number of the depraved children live in +what are called the "lodging-houses." Most Americans +have heard of the "Old Brewery" at the Five +Points in New York city, where more than two hundred +persons of all ages and sexes were crowded +together. Such lodging-houses as this, (which fortunately +has been destroyed,) are common in London and +the provincial towns of Great Britain. Mr. Mayhew, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> +in his "London Labour and the London Poor," has +given us very full information concerning them. He +obtained much of it from one who had passed some +time among the dens of infamy. He says of these +lodging-houses—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'They have generally a spacious, though often ill-ventilated +kitchen, the dirty, dilapidated walls of which are hung with prints, +while a shelf or two are generally, though barely, furnished with +crockery and kitchen utensils. In some places knives and forks +are not provided, unless a penny is left with the "deputy," or manager, +till they are returned. A brush of any kind is a stranger, +and a looking-glass would be a miracle. The average number of +nightly lodgers is in winter seventy, in the summer (when many +visit the provinces) from forty to forty-five. The general charge +is, if two sleep together, 3<i>d.</i> per night, or 4<i>d.</i> for a single bed. In +either case, it is by no means unusual to find eighteen or twenty +in one small room, the heat and horrid smell from which are insufferable; +and, where there are young children, the staircases +are the lodgment of every kind of filth and abomination. In some +houses there are rooms for families, where, on a rickety machine, +which they dignify by the name of a bedstead, may be found the +man, his wife, and a son or daughter, perhaps eighteen years of age; +while the younger children, aged from seven to fourteen, sleep on +the floor. If they have linen, they take it off to escape vermin, +and rise naked, one by one, or sometimes brother and sister together. +This is no ideal picture; the subject is too capable of +being authenticated to need any meaningless or dishonest assistance +called "allowable exaggeration." The amiable and deservedly +popular minister of a district church, built among lodging-houses, +has stated that he has found twenty-nine human beings in one +apartment; and that having with difficulty knelt down between +two beds to pray with a dying woman, his legs became so jammed +that he could hardly get up again.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Out of some fourscore such habitations,' continues my informant, +'I have only found <i>two</i> which had any sort of garden; and, I am +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> +happy to add, that in neither of these two was there a single case +of cholera. In the others, however, the pestilence raged with terrible +fury.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">There are other lodging-houses still lower in character +than those described above, and where there is a +total absence of cleanliness and decency. A man who +had slept in these places, gave the following account to +Mr. Mayhew:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"He had slept in rooms so crammed with sleepers—he believed +there were thirty where twelve would have been a proper number—that +their breaths in the dead of night and in the unventilated +chamber, rose (I use his own words) 'in one foul, choking steam +of stench.' This was the case most frequently a day or two prior +to Greenwich Fair or Epsom Races, when the congregation of the +wandering classes, who are the supporters of the low lodging-houses, +was the thickest. It was not only that two or even three +persons jammed themselves into a bed not too large for one full-sized +man; but between the beds—and their partition one from +another admitted little more than the passage of a lodger—were +placed shakedowns, or temporary accommodation for nightly +slumber. In the better lodging-houses the shakedowns are small +palliasses or mattrasses; in the worst they are bundles of rags of +any kind; but loose straw is used only in the country for shakedowns. +Our informant saw a traveller, who had arrived late, eye +his shakedown in one of the worst houses with any thing but a +pleased expression of countenance; and a surly deputy, observing +this, told the customer he had his choice, 'which,' the deputy added, +'is not as all men has, or I shouldn't have been waiting here on +you. But you has your choice, I tell you;—sleep there on that +shakedown, or turn out and be——; that's fair.' At some of +the busiest periods, numbers sleep on the kitchen floor, all huddled +together, men and women, (when indecencies are common enough,) +and without bedding or any thing but their scanty clothes to soften +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> +the hardness of the stone or brick floor. A penny is saved to the +lodger by this means. More than two hundred have been accommodated +in this way in a large house. The Irish, in harvest-time, +very often resort to this mode of passing the night.</p> + +<p class="i1">"I heard from several parties, of the surprise, and even fear or +horror, with which a decent mechanic—more especially if he were +accompanied by his wife—regarded one of these foul dens, when +destitution had driven him there for the first time in his life. +Sometimes such a man was seen to leave the place abruptly, +though perhaps he had prepaid his last halfpenny for the refreshment +of a night's repose. Sometimes he was seized with sickness. +I heard also from some educated persons who had 'seen +better days,' of the disgust with themselves and with the world, +which they felt on first entering such places. 'And I have some +reason to believe,' said one man, 'that a person, once well off, who +has sunk into the very depths of poverty, often makes his first appearance +in one of the worst of those places. Perhaps it is because +he keeps away from them as long as he can, and then, in a sort of +desperation fit, goes into the cheapest he can meet with; or if he +knows it's a vile place, he very likely says to himself—as I did—"I +may as well know the worst at once."'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Another man, who had moved in good society, said, when +asked about his resorting to a low lodging-house: 'When a man's +lost caste in society, he may as well go the whole hog, bristles and +all, and a low lodging-house is the entire pig.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Notwithstanding many abominations, I am assured that the +lodgers, in even the worst of these habitations, for the most part, +sleep soundly. But they have, in all probability, been out in the +open air the whole of the day, and all of them may go to their +couches, after having walked, perhaps, many miles, exceedingly +fatigued, and some of them half drunk. 'Why, in course, sir,' +said a 'traveller,' whom I spoke to on this subject, 'if you is in a +country town or village, where there's only one lodging-house, +perhaps, and that a bad one—an old hand can always suit hisself +in London—you <i>must</i> get half drunk, or your money for your bed +is wasted. There's so much rest owing to you, after a hard day; +and bugs and bad air'll prevent its being paid, if you don't lay in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> +some stock of beer, or liquor of some sort, to sleep on. It's a duty +you owes yourself; but, if you haven't the browns, why, then, in +course, you can't pay it.' I have before remarked, and, indeed, +have given instances, of the odd and sometimes original manner +in which an intelligent patterer, for example, will express himself.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The information I obtained in the course of this inquiry into +the condition of low lodging-houses, afforded a most ample corroboration +of the truth of a remark I have more than once found +it necessary to make before—that persons of the vagrant class will +sacrifice almost any thing for warmth, not to say heat. Otherwise, +to sleep, or even sit, in some of the apartments of these establishments +would be intolerable.</p> + +<p class="i1">"From the frequent state of weariness to which I have alluded, +there is generally less conversation among the frequenters of the +low lodging-houses than might be expected. Some are busy cooking, +some (in the better houses) are reading, many are drowsy and +nodding, and many are smoking. In perhaps a dozen places of +the worst and filthiest class, indeed, smoking is permitted even in +the sleeping-rooms; but it is far less common than it was even +half-a-dozen years back, and becomes still less common yearly. +Notwithstanding so dangerous a practice, fires are and have been +very unfrequent in these places. There is always some one awake, +which is one reason. The lack of conversation, I ought to add, +and the weariness and drowsiness, are less observable in the lodging-houses +patronized by thieves and women of abandoned character, +whose lives are comparatively idle, and whose labour a mere +nothing. In their houses, if their conversation be at all general, +it is often of the most unclean character. At other times it is carried +on in groups, with abundance of whispers, shrugs, and slang, +by the members of the respective schools of thieves or lurkers."</p> + +<hr class="sect" /> + +<p class="i1">"The licentiousness of the frequenters, and more especially the +juvenile frequenters, of the low lodging-houses, must be even more +briefly alluded to. In some of these establishments, men and +women, boys and girls,—but perhaps in no case, or in very rare +cases, unless they are themselves consenting parties, herd together +promiscuously. The information which I have given from a reverend +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span> +informant indicates the nature of the proceedings, when the +sexes are herded indiscriminately, and it is impossible to present +to the reader, in full particularity, the records of the vice +practised.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Boys have boastfully carried on loud conversations, and from +distant parts of the room, of their triumphs over the virtue of girls, +and girls have laughed at and encouraged the recital. Three, +four, five, six, and even more boys and girls have been packed, +head and feet, into one small bed; some of them perhaps never +met before. On such occasions any clothing seems often enough +to be regarded as merely an encumbrance. Sometimes there are +loud quarrels and revilings from the jealousy of boys and girls, +and more especially of girls whose 'chaps' have deserted or been +inveigled from them. At others, there is an amicable interchange +of partners, and next day a resumption of their former companionship. +One girl, then fifteen or sixteen, who had been leading +this vicious kind of life for nearly three years, and had been repeatedly +in prison, and twice in hospitals—and who expressed a +strong desire to 'get out of the life' by emigration—said: 'Whatever +that's bad and wicked, that any one can fancy could be done +in such places among boys and girls that's never been taught, or +won't be taught, better, <i>is</i> done, and night after night.' In these +haunts of low iniquity, or rather in the room into which the +children are put, there are seldom persons above twenty. The +young lodgers in such places live by thieving and pocket-picking, +or by prostitution. The charge for a night's lodging is generally +2<i>d.</i>, but smaller children have often been admitted for 1<i>d.</i> If a +boy or girl resort to one of these dens at night without the means +of defraying the charge for accommodation, the 'mot of the ken' +(mistress of the house) will pack them off, telling them plainly +that it will be no use their returning until they have stolen something +worth 2<i>d.</i> If a boy or girl do not return in the evening, and +have not been heard to express their intention of going elsewhere, +the first conclusion arrived at by their mates is that they have +'got into trouble,' (prison.)</p> + +<p class="i1">"The indiscriminate admixture of the sexes among adults, in +many of these places, is another evil. Even in some houses considered +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> +of the better sort, men and women, husbands and wives, +old and young, strangers and acquaintances, sleep in the same +apartment, and if they choose, in the same bed. Any remonstrance +at some act of gross depravity, or impropriety, on the part of a +woman not so utterly hardened as the others, is met with abuse +and derision. One man who described these scenes to me, and +had long witnessed them, said that almost the only women who ever +hid their faces or manifested dislike of the proceedings they could +not but notice, (as far as he saw,) were poor Irishwomen, generally +those who live by begging: 'But for all that,' the man added, 'an +Irishman or Irishwoman of that sort will sleep anywhere, in any +mess, to save a halfpenny, though they may have often a few shillings, +or a good many, hidden about them.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The recent report of Captain Hays, "on the operation +of the Common Lodging-house Act," presents some +appalling facts:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Up to the end of February, it was ascertained that 3100 persons, +mostly Irishmen, in the very heart of the metropolis, lodged +every night, 84,000 individuals in 3712 rooms. The instances +enumerated are heart sickening. In a small room in Rosemary +lane, near the Tower, fourteen adults were sleeping on the floor +without any partition or regard to decency. In an apartment in +Church lane, St. Giles, not fifteen feet square, were thirty-seven +women and children, all huddled together on the floor. There are +thousands of similar cases. The eastern portion of London, comprising +Whitechapel, Spitalfields, and Mile-end—an unknown land +to all of the decent classes—is filled with a swarming population +of above 300,000 beggars, costermongers, thieves, ragsellers, Jews, +and the like. A single court is a fair example of this whole district. +It contains eight houses of two rooms each. Three hundred +persons—men, women, and children—live there. There is +only one place of convenience; and one hydrant, which is served +half an hour each day. The condition of this court may be imagined; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> +it is too filthy to describe. Decayed matter, stagnant +water, refuse fish, vegetables, broken baskets, dead cats, dogs, and +rats, are strewed everywhere around. The prices of various kinds +of provision in these neighbourhoods give a forcible notion of the +condition of the population. You can purchase for a halfpenny +fish or meat enough for a dinner.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In this neighbourhood is Rag Fair. It is worth a visit. Thousands +of persons are assembled in the streets, which are so thickly +covered with merchandise that it is difficult to step along without +treading on heaps of gowns, shawls, bonnets, shoes, and articles of +men's attire. There is no conceivable article of dress that may +not be purchased here. It is not without danger that one even +visits the place at noonday. You are in the midst of the refuse of +all London,—of a whole race, whose chief employment is to commit +depredations upon property, and whose lives are spent in the +midst of a squalor, filth, deprivation and degradation, which the +whole world cannot probably parallel. One of the London missionaries +says—'Persons who are accustomed to run up heavy +bills at the shops of fashionable tailors and milliners will scarcely +believe the sums for which the poor are able to purchase the same +kind of articles. I have recently clothed a man and woman, both +decently, for the sum of nine shillings. There is as great a variety +of articles in pattern, shape, and size, as could be found in any +draper's shop in London. The mother may go to <i>Rag Fair</i>, with +the whole of her family, both boys and girls—yes, and her husband, +too—and for a very few shillings deck them out from top to +toe. I have no doubt that a man and his wife, and five or six +children, with £1 would purchase for themselves an entire change. +This may appear an exaggeration; but I actually overheard a conversation, +in which two women were trying to bargain for a child's +frock; the sum asked was 1½<i>d.</i>, and the sum offered was 1<i>d.</i>, and +they parted on the difference.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The following is a bill delivered by a dealer to one of the missionaries, +who was requested to supply a suit of clothes for a man +and woman whom he had persuaded to get married several years +after the right time:—</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<table class="narrow" id="BILL_FOR_GROOM" summary="Bill for Groom's Clothes"> + <tr> + <td class="c1"></td> + <td class="c2"><i>s.</i></td> + <td class="c1"><i>d.</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A full linen-fronted shirt, very elegant</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">6</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of warm worsted stockings </td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of light-coloured trousers</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">6</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A black cloth waistcoat</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">3</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of white cotton braces</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of low shoes</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A black silk velvet stock</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A black beaver, fly-fronted, double-breasted paletot + coat, lined with silk, a very superior article</td> + <td class="c2">1</td> + <td class="c1">6</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A cloth cap, bound with a figured band</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of black cloth gloves</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;"></td> + <td colspan="2" class="c2">——</td> + <td class="c1"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;"></td> + <td class="c2">3</td> + <td class="c1">3</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p class="i1">"The man had been educated, and could speak no fewer than +five languages; by profession he was, however, nothing but a dusthill +raker.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The bill delivered for the bride's costume is as follows:</p> + +<table class="narrow" id="BILL_FOR_BRIDES_COSTUME" summary="Bill for Bride's Costume"> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A shift</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of stays</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">2</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A flannel petticoat</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">4</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A black Orleans ditto</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">4</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of white cotton stockings</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A very good light-coloured cotton gown</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">10</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of single-soled slippers, with spring + heels</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">2</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A double-dyed bonnet, including a neat cap</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">2</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A pair of white cotton gloves</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;">A lady's green silk paletot, lined with crimson + silk, trimmed with black</td> + <td class="c2">0</td> + <td class="c1">10</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;"></td> + <td colspan="2" class="c2">——</td> + <td class="c1"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:20%;"></td> + <td class="c2">3</td> + <td class="c1" style="padding-left:1.5em;">1</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p class="i1">Throughout the country there are low lodging-houses, +which do not differ much in character from those of +London. In all of them the most disgusting immorality +is practised to an extent scarcely conceivable by those +who do not visit such dens of vice and misery.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">The story of the Jew Fagan, and his felonious operations, +in Dickens's Oliver Twist, is a true representation +of a most extensive business in London. There are a +large number of notorious receivers of stolen goods. +Some of them keep a number of boys, who are instructed +in stealing, and beaten severely when unsuccessful. +Mayhew mentions one notorious case in George-yard. +A wooden-legged Welshman, named Hughes, and commonly +called Taff, was the miscreant. Two little boys +were his chief agents in stealing, and when they did not +obtain any thing, he would take the strap off his wooden +leg, and beat them through the nakedness of their rags. +He boarded and lodged about a dozen Chelsea and +Greenwich pensioners. These he followed and watched +closely until they were paid. Then, after they had settled +with him, he would make them drunk and rob +them of the few shillings they had left.</p> + +<p class="i1">The brutal treatment of servants, which we have +already touched, drives many of them to the low lodging-houses, +and to the commission of crime. In the following +narrative, which a girl communicated to Mr. Mayhew, +we have an illustration of this assertion, as well as +some awful disclosures in regard to "life among the +lowly:"—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'I am an orphan. When I was ten I was sent to service as a +maid of all-work, in a small tradesman's family. It was a hard +place, and my mistress used me very cruelly, beating me often. +When I had been in place three weeks, my mother died; my +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> +father having died twelve years before. I stood my mistress's ill-treatment +about six months. She beat me with sticks as well as +with her hands. I was black and blue, and at last I ran away. +I got to Mrs. ——, a low lodging-house. I didn't know before +that there was such a place. I heard of it from some girls at the +Glasshouse, (baths and wash-houses,) where I went for shelter. I +went with them to have a halfpenny worth of coffee, and they took +me to the lodging-house. I then had three shillings, and stayed +about a month, and did nothing wrong, living on the three shillings +and what I pawned my clothes for, as I got some pretty good +things away with me. In the lodging-house I saw nothing but +what was bad, and heard nothing but what was bad. I was +laughed at, and was told to swear. They said, 'Look at her for +a d—— modest fool'—sometimes worse than that, until by degrees +I got to be as bad as they were. During this time I used to see +boys and girls from ten to twelve years old sleeping together, but +understood nothing wrong. I had never heard of such places +before I ran away. I can neither read nor write. My mother +was a good woman, and I wish I'd had her to run away to. I +saw things between almost children that I can't describe to you—very +often I saw them, and that shocked me. At the month's +end, when I was beat out, I met with a young man of fifteen—I +myself was going on to twelve years old—and he persuaded me +to take up with him. I stayed with him three months in the +same lodging-house, living with him as his wife, though we were +mere children, and being true to him. At the three months' end +he was taken up for picking pockets, and got six months. I was +sorry, for he was kind to me; though I was made ill through +him; so I broke some windows in St. Paul's churchyard to get +into prison to get cured. I had a month in the Compter, and +came out well. I was scolded very much in the Compter, on +account of the state I was in, being so young. I had 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> given +to me when I came out, and was forced to go into the streets for +a living. I continued walking the streets for three years, sometimes +making a good deal of money, sometimes none, feasting one +day and starving the next. The bigger girls could persuade me +to do any thing they liked with my money. I was never happy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> +all the time, but I could get no character, and could not get out +of the life. I lodged all this time at a lodging-house in Kent-street. +They were all thieves and bad girls. I have known +between three and four dozen boys and girls sleep in one room. +The beds were horrid filthy and full of vermin. There was very +wicked carryings on. The boys, if any difference, was the worst. +We lay packed, on a full night, a dozen boys and girls squeedged +into one bed. That was very often the case—some at the foot +and some at the top—boys and girls all mixed. I can't go into +all the particulars, but whatever could take place in words or acts +between boys and girls did take place, and in the midst of the +others. I am sorry to say I took part in these bad ways myself, +but I wasn't so bad as some of the others. There was only a +candle burning all night, but in summer it was light great part +of the night. Some boys and girls slept without any clothes, and +would dance about the room that way. I have seen them, and, +wicked as I was, felt ashamed. I have seen two dozen capering +about the room that way; some mere children, the boys generally +the youngest. * * * There were no men or +women present. There were often fights. The deputy never interfered. +This is carried on just the same as ever to this day, +and is the same every night. I have heard young girls shout out +to one another how often they had been obliged to go to the hospital, +or the infirmary, or the workhouse. There was a great deal +of boasting about what the boys and girls had stolen during the +day. I have known boys and girls change their 'partners,' just +for a night. At three years' end I stole a piece of beef from a +butcher. I did it to get into prison. I was sick of the life I was +leading, and didn't know how to get out of it. I had a month for +stealing. When I got out I passed two days and a night in the +streets doing nothing wrong, and then went and threatened to +break Messrs. ——'s windows again. I did that to get into +prison again; for when I lay quiet of a night in prison I thought +things over, and considered what a shocking life I was leading, +and how my health might be ruined completely, and I thought I +would stick to prison rather than go back to such a life. I got +six months for threatening. When I got out I broke a lamp next +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> +morning for the same purpose, and had a fortnight. That was +the last time I was in prison. I have since been leading the same +life as I told you of for the three years, and lodging at the same +houses, and seeing the same goings on. I hate such a life now +more than ever. I am willing to do any work that I can in washing +and cleaning. I can do a little at my needle. I could do +hard work, for I have good health. I used to wash and clean in +prison, and always behaved myself there. At the house where I +am it is 3<i>d.</i> a night; but at Mrs. ——'s it is 1<i>d.</i> and 2<i>d.</i> a night, +and just the same goings on. Many a girl—nearly all of them—goes +out into the streets from this penny and twopenny house, to +get money for their favourite boys by prostitution. If the girl +can not get money she must steal something, or will be beaten by +her 'chap' when she comes home. I have seen them beaten, often +kicked and beaten until they were blind from bloodshot, and their +teeth knocked out with kicks from boots as the girl lays on the +ground. The boys, in their turn, are out thieving all day, and +the lodging-house keeper will buy any stolen provisions of them, +and sell them to the lodgers. I never saw the police in the house. +If a boy comes to the house on a night without money or sawney, +or something to sell to the lodgers, a handkerchief or something +of that kind, he is not admitted, but told very plainly, 'Go thieve +it, then,' Girls are treated just the same. Anybody may call +in the daytime at this house and have a halfpenny worth of coffee +and sit any length of time until evening. I have seen three dozen +sitting there that way, all thieves and bad girls. There are no +chairs, and only one form in front of the fire, on which a dozen +can sit. The others sit on the floor all about the room, as near +the fire as they can. Bad language goes on during the day, as I +told you it did during the night, and indecencies too, but nothing +like so bad as at night. They talk about where there is good +places to go and thieve. The missioners call sometimes, but +they're laughed at often when they're talking, and always before +the door's closed on them. If a decent girl goes there to get a +ha'porth of coffee, seeing the board over the door, she is always +shocked. Many a poor girl has been ruined in this house since I +was, and boys have boasted about it. I never knew boy or girl do +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span> +good, once get used there. Get used there, indeed, and you are +life-ruined. I was an only child, and haven't a friend in the +world. I have heard several girls say how they would like to +get out of the life, and out of the place. From those I know, I +think that cruel parents and mistresses cause many to be driven +there. One lodging-house keeper, Mrs. ——, goes out dressed respectable, +and pawns any stolen property, or sells it at public-houses.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"As a corroboration of the girl's statement, a wretched-looking +boy, only thirteen years of age, gave me the following additional +information. He had a few rags hanging about him, and no shirt—indeed, +he was hardly covered enough for purposes of decency, +his skin being exposed through the rents in his jacket and trousers. +He had a stepfather, who treated him very cruelly. The +stepfather and the child's mother went 'across the country,' begging +and stealing. Before the mother died, an elder brother ran +away on account of being beaten.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Sometimes,' I give his own words, 'he (the stepfather) +wouldn't give us a bit to eat, telling us to go and thieve for it. +My brother had been a month gone (he's now a soldier in Gibraltar) +when I ran away to join him. I knew where to find him, +as we met sometimes. We lived by thieving, and I do still—by +pulling flesh, (stealing meat.) I got to lodge at Mrs. ——, and have +been there this eight months. I can read and write a little.' This +boy then confirmed what the young girl had told me of the grossest +acts night by night among the boys and girls, the language, &c., +and continued:—'I always sleep on the floor for 1<i>d.</i>, and pay +½<i>d.</i> besides for coke. At this lodging-house cats and kittens are +melted down, sometimes twenty a day. A quart pot is a cat, and +pints and half-pints are kittens. A kitten (pint) brings 3<i>d.</i> from +the rag-shops, and a cat 6<i>d.</i> There's convenience to melt them +down at the lodging-house. We can't sell clothes in the house, +except any lodger wants them; and clothes nearly all go to the +Jews in Petticoat-lane. Mrs. —— buys the sawney of us; so +much for the lump, 2<i>d.</i> a pound about; she sells it again for +twice what she gives, and more. Perhaps 30 lbs. of meat every +day is sold to her. I have been in prison six times, and have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> +had three dozen; each time I came out harder. If I left Mrs. +——'s house I don't know how I could get my living. Lots of +boys would get away if they could. I never drink. I don't like +it. Very few of us boys drink. I don't like thieving, and often +go about singing; but I can't live by singing, and I don't know +how I could live honestly. If I had money enough to buy a stock +of oranges, I think I could be honest.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Mr. Mayhew called a meeting of thieves and beggars +at the Bristol Union School-room, Shakspeare Walk, +Shadwell. One hundred and fifty of them—all under +twenty years of age—attended. It may be doubted +whether such a meeting could have been brought about +in any other city. The young thieves and beggars +were very fair samples of their numerous class. Of +professed beggars, there were fifty; and sixty-six acknowledged +themselves habitual thieves. The announcement +that the greater number present were +thieves, pleased them exceedingly, and was received +with three rounds of applause! Fourteen of them had +been in prison over twenty times, and twenty stated +that they had been flogged in prison. Seventy-eight +of them regularly roamed through the country every +year; sixty-five slept regularly in the casual wards of +the Unions; and fifty-two occasionally slept in trampers' +lodging-houses throughout the country.</p> + +<p class="i1">The ignorance prevailing among the vast number of +street-sellers in London, is rather comically illustrated +by Mr. Mayhew, in the following instance:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"One boy gave me his notions of men and things. He was a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> +thick-limbed, red-cheeked fellow; answered very freely, and +sometimes, when I could not help laughing at his replies, laughed +loudly himself, as if he entered into the joke.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Yes, he had heer'd of God who made the world. Couldn't +exactly recollec' when he'd heerd on him, but he had, most +sarten-ly. Didn't know when the world was made, or how anybody +could do it. It must have taken a long time. It was afore +his time, 'or yourn either, sir.' Knew there was a book called +the Bible; didn't know what it was about; didn't mind to know; +knew of such a book to a sartinty, because a young 'oman took +one to pop (pawn) for an old 'oman what was on the spree—a +bran new 'un—but the cove wouldn't have it, and the old 'oman +said he might be d——d. Never heer'd tell on the deluge, of the +world having been drownded; it couldn't, for there wasn't water +enough to do it. He weren't a going to fret hisself for such +things as that. Didn't know what happened to people after death, +only that they was buried. Had seen a dead body laid out; was +a little afeared at first; poor Dick looked so different, and when +you touched his face he was so cold! oh, so cold! Had heer'd +on another world; wouldn't mind if he was there hisself, if he +could do better, for things was often queer here. Had heer'd on +it from a tailor—such a clever cove, a stunner—as went to +'Straliar, (Australia,) and heer'd him say he was going into +another world. Had never heer'd of France, but had heer'd of +Frenchmen; there wasn't half a quarter so many on 'em as of +Italians, with their ear-rings like flash gals. Didn't dislike +foreigners, for he never saw none. What was they? Had +heer'd of Ireland. Didn't know where it was, but it couldn't be +very far, or such lots wouldn't come from there to London. +Should say they walked it, ay, every bit of the way, for he'd seen +them come in all covered with dust. Had heer'd of people going +to sea, and had seen the ships in the river, but didn't know +nothing about it, for he was very seldom that way. The sun was +made of fire, or it wouldn't make you feel so warm. The stars +was fire, too, or they wouldn't shine. They didn't make it warm, +they was too small. Didn't know any use they was of. Didn't +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> +know how far they was off; a jolly lot higher than the gas lights +some on 'em was. Was never in a church; had heer'd they +worshipped God there; didn't know how it was done; had heer'd +singing and praying inside when he'd passed; never was there, +for he hadn't no togs to go in, and wouldn't be let in among such +swells as he had seen coming out. Was a ignorant chap, for +he'd never been to school, but was up to many a move, and didn't +do bad. Mother said he would make his fortin yet.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Had heer'd of the Duke of Wellington; he was Old Nosey; +didn't think he ever seed him, but had seen his statty. Hadn't +heer'd of the battle of Waterloo, nor who it was atween; once +lived in Webber-row, Waterloo-road. Thought he had heer'd +speak of Bonaparte; didn't know what he was; thought he'd +heer'd of Shakspeare, but didn't know whether he was alive or +dead, and didn't care. A man with something like that name +kept a dolly and did stunning; but he was sich a hard cove that +if <i>he</i> was dead it wouldn't matter. Had seen the queen, but +didn't recollec' her name just at the minute; oh! yes, Wictoria +and Albert. Had no notion what the queen had to do. Should +think she hadn't such power [he had first to ask me what 'power' +was] as the lord mayor, or as Mr. Norton as was the Lambeth +beak, and perhaps is still. Was never once before a beak, and +didn't want to. Hated the crushers; what business had they to +interfere with him if he was only resting his basket in a street? +Had been once to the Wick, and once to the Bower; liked tumbling +better; he meant to have a little pleasure when the peas +came in."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The vagabond propensities of the street-children are +thus described by Mr. Mayhew:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"As soon as the warm weather commences, boys and girls, but +more especially boys, leave the town in shoals, traversing the +country in every direction; some furnished with trifling articles +(such as I have already enumerated) to sell, and others to begging, +lurking, or thieving. It is not the street-sellers who so +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span> +much resort to the tramp, as those who are devoid of the commonest +notions of honesty; a quality these young vagrants sometimes +respect when in fear of a jail, and the hard work with +which such a place is identified in their minds—and to which, +with the peculiar idiosyncrasy of a roving race, they have an +insuperable objection.</p> + +<p class="i1">"I have met with boys and girls, however, to whom a jail had +no terrors, and to whom, when in prison, there was only one +dread, and that a common one among the ignorant, whether with +or without any sense of religion—superstition. 'I lay in prison +of a night, sir,' said a boy who was generally among the briskest +of his class, 'and think I shall see things.' The 'things' represent +the vague fears which many, not naturally stupid, but untaught +or ill-taught persons, entertain in the dark. A girl, a +perfect termagant in the breaking of windows and suchlike +offences, told me something of the same kind. She spoke well +of the treatment she experienced in prison, and seemed to have a +liking for the matron and officials; her conduct there was quiet +and respectful. I believe she was not addicted to drink.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Many of the girls, as well as the boys, of course trade as +they 'tramp.' They often sell, both in the country and in town, +little necklaces composed of red berries strung together upon +thick thread, for dolls and children; but although I have asked +several of them, I have never yet found one who collected the +berries and made the necklaces themselves; neither have I met +with a single instance in which the girl vendors knew the name +of the berries thus used, nor indeed even that they <i>were</i> berries. +The invariable reply to my questions upon this point has been +that they 'are called necklaces;' that 'they are just as they sells +'em to us;' that they 'don't know whether they are made or +whether they grow;' and in most cases, that they 'gets them in +London, by Shoreditch;' although in one case a little brown-complexioned +girl, with bright sparkling eyes, said that 'she got +them from the gipsies.' At first I fancied, from this child's appearance, +that she was rather superior in intellect to most of her +class; but I soon found that she was not a whit above the others, +unless, indeed, it were in the possession of the quality of cunning."</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">The regular "tramps," or wandering vagabonds, are +very numerous throughout Great Britain. At certain +periods they issue from all the large towns, and prey +upon the rural districts like swarms of locusts. In no +other country can be found so constant a class of vagrants. +The gipsies form but a small portion of the +"tramps." These vagrants are miserably clothed, +filthy, covered with vermin, and generally very much +diseased—sometimes from debauchery, and sometimes +from want of food and from exposure. Very few of +them are married. The women are nearly all prostitutes. +The manner of life of these wanderers is +curious. They beg during the day in the towns, or +along the roads; and they so arrange their day's +tramp as to arrive, most nights, in the neighbourhood +of the workhouses. They then hide the money they +have collected by begging, and present themselves, +after sunset, at the gates of the workhouse, to beg a +night's lodging. To nearly every workhouse there are +attached vagrant wards, or buildings which are specially +set apart for the reception of tramps such as +those we have described. These wards are commonly +brick buildings, of one story in height. They have +brick floors and guard-room beds, with loose straw and +rugs for the males, and iron bedsteads, with straw, for +the females. They are badly ventilated, and unprovided +with any means for producing warmth. All holes for +ventilation are sure to be stopped up at night, by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> +occupants, with rags or straw, so that the stench of +these sleeping-places is disgusting in the extreme. +Guards are appointed for these wards, but such is the +immorality and indecency of the vagrants, that the +most disgusting scenes are common in them. The +wards resound with the vilest songs and the foulest +language; and so numerous are the "tramps" that the +guardians find it impossible to separate the sexes. +This vast evil of vagrancy is constantly increasing, +and is a natural result of the monopolies and oppressions +of the aristocracy. It is stated that on the 25th +of March, 1848, the 626 Unions of England and Wales +relieved 16,086 vagrants. But this scarcely gives an +idea of the magnitude of the evil. Between 40,000 +and 50,000 "tramps" infest the roads and streets of +England and Wales every day. The majority of them +are thieves, and nearly all are almost brutally ignorant.</p> + +<p class="i1">In London there are large numbers of small dealers, +called costermongers and patterers. Persons belonging +to these classes seldom or never rise above their trade, +and they seem to have a kind of hereditary pride in +their degraded position. Many of the costermongers +and patterers are thieves, and the general character of +these classes is very debased; ignorance and immorality +prevail to a fearful extent. The patterers are more +intelligent than the costermongers, but they are also +more immoral. They help off their wares, which are +chiefly stationery and quack medicines, by long harangues, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span> +while the costermongers merely cry their fish, +greens, &c. about the streets. The number of people +dependent upon costermongering in London is about +thirty thousand. The patterers are not so numerous.</p> + +<p class="i1">Concubinage is the rule and marriage the exception +among both costermongers and patterers. Mr. Mayhew +estimates that only one-tenth of the couples living together +and carrying on the costermongering trade are +married. There is no honour attached to the marriage +state and no shame to concubinage. In good times the +women are rigidly faithful to their paramours, but in +the worst pinch of poverty a departure from fidelity is +not considered heinous. About three out of a hundred +costermongers ever attend a church, and the majority +of them have no knowledge of Christianity; they associate +the Church of England and aristocracy, and hate +both. Slang is acquired very rapidly, and some costermongers +will converse in it by the hour. The women +use it sparingly; the girls more than the women; the +men more than the girls; and the boys most of all. +Pronouncing backward is the simple principle upon +which the costermonger slang is founded.</p> + +<p class="i1">The patterers, though a vagrant, are an organized +class. Mr. Mayhew says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"There is a telegraphic despatch between them, through the +length and breadth of the land. If two patterers (previously unacquainted) +meet in the provinces, the following, or something +like it, will be their conversation:—Can you 'voker romeny' (can +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> +you speak cant?) What is your 'monekeer?' (name.) Perhaps +it turns out that one is 'White-headed Bob,' and the other 'Plymouth +Ned,' They have a 'shant of gatter' (pot of beer) at the +nearest 'boozing ken,' (ale-house,) and swear eternal friendship +to each other. The old saying, that 'When the liquor is in the +wit is out,' is remarkably fulfilled on these occasions, for they +betray to the 'flatties' (natives) all their profits and proceedings.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It is to be supposed that in country districts, where there are +no streets, the patterer is obliged to call at the houses. As they +are mostly without the hawker's license, and sometimes find wet +linen before it is lost, the rural districts are not fond of their visits; +and there are generally two or three persons in a village reported +to be 'gammy,' that is, unfavourable. If a patterer has been +'crabbed,' that is, offended, at any of the 'cribs,' (houses,) he +mostly chalks a signal on or near the door. I give one or two +instances:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Bone,' meaning good.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Cooper'd,' spoiled by the imprudence of some other patterer.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Gammy,' likely to have you taken up.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Flummut,' sure of a month in quod.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In most lodging-houses there is an old man who is the guide +to every 'walk' in the vicinity, and who can tell every house on +every round that is 'good for a cold 'tater.' In many cases there +is over the kitchen mantel-piece a map of the district, dotted here +and there with memorandums of failure or success.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Patterers are fond of carving their names and avocations +about the houses they visit. The old jail at Dartford has been +some years a 'padding-ken.' In one of the rooms appear the +following autographs:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Jemmy, the Rake, bound to Bristol; bad beds, but no bugs. +Thank God for all things.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Razor George and his moll slept here the day after Christmas; +just out of "stir," (jail,) for "muzzling a peeler."'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Scotch Mary, with "driz," (lace,) bound to Dover and back, +please God.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Sometimes these inscriptions are coarse and obscene; sometimes +very well written and orderly. Nor do they want illustrations.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"At the old factory, Lincoln, is a portrait of the town beadle, +formerly a soldier; it is drawn with different-coloured chalks, and +ends with the following couplet:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">'You are a B for false swearing,</div> + <div class="verse">In hell they'll roast you like a herring.'</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">"Concubinage is very common among patterers, especially on +their travels; they have their regular rounds, and call the peregrination +'going on circuit.' For the most part they are early +risers; this gives them a facility for meeting poor girls who have +had a night's shelter in the union workhouses. They offer such +girls some refreshments, swear they are single men, and promise +comforts certainly superior to the immediate position of their +victims. Consent is generally obtained; perhaps a girl of fourteen +or fifteen, previously virtuous, is induced to believe in a promise +of constant protection, but finds herself, the next morning, +ruined and deserted; nor is it unlikely that, within a month or +two, she will see her seducer in the company of a dozen incidental +wives. A gray-headed miscreant, called 'Cutler Tom,' boasts +of five hundred such exploits; and there is too great reason to +believe that the picture of his own drawing is not greatly overcharged."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">A reverend gentleman, who had enjoyed the best +opportunities for observing the patterers, gave Mr. +Mayhew the following information:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"I have seen fathers and mothers place their boys and girls in +positions of incipient enormity, and command them to use language +and gestures to each other which would make a harlot +blush, and almost a heathen tremble. I have hitherto viewed the +patterer as a salesman, having something in his hand, on whose +merits, real or pretended, he talks people out of their money. By +slow degrees prosperity rises, but rapid is the advance of evil. +The patterer sometimes gets 'out of stock,' and is obliged, at no +great sacrifice of conscience, to 'patter' in another strain. In +every large town, sham official documents, with crests, seals, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> +signatures, can be got for half-a-crown. Armed with these, the +patterer becomes a 'lurker,' that is, an impostor; his papers certify +any and every 'ill that flesh is heir to.' Shipwreck is called +a 'shake lurk;' loss by fire is a 'glim.' Sometimes the petitioner +has had a horse which has dropped dead with the mad staggers; +or has a wife ill or dying, and six or seven children at once sickening +of the small-pox. Children are borrowed to support the +appearance; the case is certified by the minister and churchwardens +of a parish which exists only in imagination; and as many +people dislike the trouble of investigation, the patterer gets enough +to raise a stock in trade, and divides the spoil between the swag-shop +and the gin-palace. Sometimes they are detected, and get +a 'drag,' (three months in prison.)</p> + +<p class="i1">"They have many narrow escapes; one occurs to me of a somewhat +ludicrous character:—A patterer and lurker (now dead) +known by the name of 'Captain Moody,' unable to get a 'fakement' +written or printed, was standing almost naked in the streets +of a neighbouring town. A gentleman stood still and heard his +piteous tale, but, having been 'done' more than once, he resolved +to examine the affair, and begged the petitioner to conduct him +to his wife and children, who were in a garret on a bed of languishing, +with neither clothes, food, nor fire, but, it appeared, +with faith enough to expect a supply from 'Him who feedeth the +ravens,' and in whose sacred name even a cold 'tater was implored. +The patterer, or half-patterer and half-beggar, took the +gentleman (who promised a sovereign if every thing was square) +through innumerable and intricate windings, till he came to an +outhouse or sort of stable. He saw the key outside the door, and +begged the gentleman to enter and wait till he borrowed a light +of a neighbour to show him up-stairs. The illumination never +arrived, and the poor charitable man found that the miscreant +had locked him into the stable. The patterer went to the padding-ken, +told the story with great glee, and left that locality +within an hour of the occurrence."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, and other provincial +cities possess an ignorant and immoral population +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span> +quite equal, in proportion to the entire population +of each city, to that of London. In each may be found +a degraded class, with scarcely any ideas of religion or +morality, living in the most wretched manner, and +practising every species of vice. The cellar-houses, in +which many of them live, have been described in another +chapter. They are the filthy abodes of a people almost +reduced to a brutish condition. In Liverpool parish +there is a <i>cellar-population of 20,000</i>, a large number +of whom are continually engaged in criminal practices. +There are portions of the city of Glasgow which a +stranger could scarcely traverse safely at night, and +where an amount of vice and misery may be witnessed +which is not exceeded in either London or Liverpool.</p> + +<p class="i1">In the mining and manufacturing districts of England +there is much ignorance and more vice. In both, there +are schools of a miserable character, but those young +persons who can find time to attend them learn nothing +beyond reading, writing, and the simplest rules of arithmetic. +The mining labour, as carried on in the mines +of England, is extremely demoralizing in its tendency, +as we have shown in another part of this work. The +report of parliamentary commissioners contains some +statements in regard to the darkness of mind and corruption +of heart among young persons employed in the +various trades and manufactures.</p> + +<p class="i1">The following facts are quoted from the Second Report +of the "Children's Employment Commission."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">The moral and religious state of the children and +young persons employed in the trades and manufactures +of Birmingham, is described by the sub-commissioners +as very unfavourable. The social and domestic duties +and affections are but little cultivated and practised; +great numbers never attend any place of public worship; +and of the state of juvenile crime some conception may +be formed by the statement, that of the total number of +known or suspected offenders in this town, during the +twelve last months—namely, 1223—at least one-half +were under fifteen years of age.</p> + +<p class="i1">As to illicit sexual intercourse, it seems to prevail +almost universally, and from a very early period of life; +to this common conclusion witnesses of every rank give +testimony.</p> + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">Wolverhampton.</span>—Of the moral condition of the +youthful population in the Wolverhampton district, Mr. +Horne says—"Putting together all I elicited from various +witnesses and conversations with working people, +abroad and at home, and all that fell under my observation, +I am obliged to come to the conclusion, that the +moral virtues of the great majority of the children are +as few in number and as feeble in practice as can well +be conceived in a civilized country, surrounded by religious +and educational institutions, and by individuals +anxious for the improvement of the condition of the +working classes."</p> + +<p class="i1">He adds of <span class="sc">Wittenhall</span>—"A lower condition of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span> +morals, in the fullest sense of the term, could not, I +think, be found. I do not mean by this that there are +many more prominent vices among them, but that moral +feelings and sentiments do not exist among them. They +have no morals."</p> + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">Sheffield.</span>—In all the Sheffield trades, employing +large numbers of children, it is stated that there is a +much closer intermixture of the younger children with +the elder youths, and with the men, than is usual in +the cotton, woollen, and flax factories; and that the +conversation to which the children are compelled to +listen, would debase their minds and blunt their moral +feelings even if they had been carefully and virtuously +educated, but that of course this result takes place +more rapidly and completely in the case of those who +have had little or no religious culture, and little but +bad example before their eyes from their cradle upward.</p> + +<p class="i1">Habits of drinking are formed at a very early age, +malt liquor being generally introduced into the workshops, +of which the youngest children are encouraged +to partake. "Very many," say the police-officers, +"frequent beer-shops, where they play at dominoes, +bagatelle, &c. for money or drink." Early intemperance +is assigned by the medical men as one cause of the +great mortality of Sheffield. "There are beer-houses," +says the Rev. Mr. Farish, "attended by youths exclusively, +for the men will not have them in the same houses +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span> +with themselves. In these beer-houses are youths of +both sexes encouraged to meet, and scenes destructive +of every vestige of virtue or morality ensue.</p> + +<p class="i1">But it is stated by all classes of witnesses, that "the +most revolting feature of juvenile depravity in this +town is early contamination from the association of the +sexes," that "juvenile prostitution is exceedingly common." +"The evidence," says the sub-commissioner, +"might have been doubled which attests the early +commencement of sexual and promiscuous intercourse +among boys and girls."</p> + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">Sedgley.</span>—At Sedgley and the neighbouring villages, +the number of girls employed in nail-making +considerably exceeds that of the boys. Of these girls +Mr. Horne reports—"Their appearance, manners, habits, +and moral natures (so far as the word <i>moral</i> can +be applied to them) are in accordance with their half-civilized +condition. Constantly associating with ignorant +and depraved adults and young persons of the +opposite sex, they naturally fall into all their ways; +and drink, smoke, swear, throw off all restraint in word +and act, and become as bad as a man. The heat of +the forge and the hardness of the work renders few +clothes needful in winter; and in summer, the six or +seven individuals who are crowded into these little dens +find the heat almost suffocating. The men and boys +are usually naked, except a pair of trousers and an +open shirt, though they very often have no shirt; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> +the women and girls have only a thin ragged petticoat, +and an open shirt without sleeves."</p> + +<p class="i1">In the mining districts, there is even more ignorance +and depravity than in the places where factories and +workshops abound. The nature of the work, and various +wants, such as no freemen would suffer from—want +of proper schools and proper amusements—induce +this state of things. An American visiting any of these +mining districts, would be astounded at the dulness, +ignorance, and viciousness that prevails among the +labourers—men and women, boys and girls. Many of +them are perfect heathens—never hearing of God except +when his awful name is "taken in vain." Of Christ +and his mission they hear somewhat, but know nothing +positively. Newspapers—those daily and weekly messengers +that keep Americans fully informed of the affairs +of the world—they seldom see. The gin-shop and +the brothel are their common resorts.</p> + +<p class="i1">Missionaries are wanted in Great Britain. Alas! +that in the middle of the nineteenth century, there +should be so many hundreds of thousands of people, in +the vicinity of a costly church establishment, without +any knowledge of the Bible!—that a professedly +Christian government should keep so many souls in +ignorance of Christianity!—that a country boasting +of its civilization and enlightenment should contain so +much darkness and depravity!</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">COOLIE SLAVERY IN THE BRITISH COLONIES.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> British government emancipated the negro +slaves held under its authority in the West Indies, +thereby greatly depreciating the value of the islands, +permitting a half-tamed race to fall back into a state +of moral and mental darkness, and adding twenty millions +to the national debt, to be paid out of the sweat +and blood of her own white serfs. This was termed a +grand act of humanity; those who laboured for it have +been lauded and laurelled without stint, and English +writers have been exceedingly solicitous that the world +should not "burst in ignorance" of the achievement.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_433.jpg" id="i_433.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_433.jpg" + alt="" /> + <div class="caption">COOLIES.</div> +</div> + +<p class="i1">Being free, the negroes, with the indolence inherent +in their nature, would not work. Many purses suffered +in consequence, and the purse is a very tender place to +injure many persons. It became necessary to substitute +other labourers for the free negroes, and the +Coolies of India were taken to the Antilles for experiment. +These labourers were generally sober, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span> +steady, and industrious. But how were they treated? +A colonist of Martinique, who visited Trinidad in +June, 1848, thus writes to the French author of a +treatise on free and slave labour:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"If I could fully describe to you the evils and suffering endured +by the Indian immigrants (Coolies) in that horribly governed +colony, I should rend the heart of the Christian world by a recital +of enormities unknown in the worst periods of colonial +slavery.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Borrowing the language of the prophet, I can truly say,'The +whole head is sick, and the whole heart is sad; from the sole of +the foot to the top of the head nothing is sound;' wounds, sores, +swollen ulcers, which are neither bandaged, nor soothed, nor +rubbed with oil.</p> + +<p class="i1">"My soul has been deeply afflicted by all that I have seen. +How many human beings lost! So far as I can judge, in spite +of their wasting away, all are young, perishing under the weight +of disease. Most of them are dropsical, for want of nourishment. +Groups of children, the most interesting I have ever seen, +scions of a race doomed to misfortune, were remarkable for their +small limbs, wrinkled and reduced to the size of spindles—and +not a rag to cover them! And to think that all this misery, all +this destruction of humanity, all this waste of the stock of a +ruined colony, might have been avoided, but has not been! +Great God! it is painful beyond expression to think that such a +neglect of duty and of humanity on the part of the colonial authorities, +as well of the metropolis as of the colony—a neglect +which calls for a repressive if not a retributive justice—will go +entirely unpunished, as it has hitherto done, notwithstanding the +indefatigable efforts of Colonel Fagan, the superintendent of the +immigrants in this colony, an old Indian officer of large experience, +of whom I have heard nothing but good, and never any +evil thing spoken, in all my travels through the island.</p> + +<p class="i1">"I am told that Colonel Fagan prepared a regulation for the government +and protection of the immigrants—which regulation +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span> +would probably realize, beyond all expectation, the object aimed +at; but scarcely had he commenced his operations when orders +arrived from the metropolis to suppress it, and substitute another +which proceeded from the ministry. The Governor, Mr. Harris, +displeased that his own regulation was thus annulled, pronounced +the new order impossible to be executed, and it was withdrawn +without having been properly tried. The minister sent another +order in regard to immigration, prepared in his hotel in Downing +street; but Governor Harris pronounced it to be still more difficult +of execution than the first, and it, too, failed. It is in this +manner that, from beginning to end, the affairs of the Indian +immigrants have been conducted. It was only necessary to treat +them with justice and kindness to render them—thanks to their +active superintendent—the best labourers that could be imported +into the colony. They are now protected neither by regulations +nor ordinances; no attention is paid to the experienced voice of +their superintendent—full of benevolence for them, and always +indefatigably profiting by what can be of advantage to them. +If disease renders a Coolie incapable of work, he is driven from +his habitation. This happens continually; he is not in that case +even paid his wages. What, then, can the unfortunate creature +do? Very different from the Creole or the African; far distant +from his country, without food, without money; disease, the +result of insufficient food and too severe labour, makes it impossible +for him to find employment. He drags himself into the +forests or upon the skirts of the roads, lies there and dies!</p> + +<p class="i1">"Some years since, the unfortunate Governor (Wall) of Gorea +was hung for having pitilessly inflicted a fatal corporal punishment +on a negro soldier found guilty of mutiny; and this soldier, +moreover, was under his orders. In the present case, I can prove +a neglect to a great extent murderous. The victims are Indian +Coolies of Trinidad. In less than one year, as is shown by +official documents, <i>two thousand</i> corpses of these unfortunate +creatures have furnished food to the crows of the island; and a +similar system is pursued, not only without punishment, but +without even forming the subject of an official inquest. Strange +and deplorable contradiction! and yet the nation which gives us +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span> +this example boasts of extending the ægis of its protection over +all its subjects, without distinction! It is this nation, also, that +complacently takes to itself the credit of extending justice equally +over all classes, over the lordly peer and the humblest subject, +without fear, favour, or affection!"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In the Mauritius, the Coolies who have been imported +are in a miserable condition. The planters +have profited by enslaving these mild and gentle +Hindoos, and rendering them wretched.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"By aid of continued Coolie immigration," says Mr. Henry C. +Carey,<a name="FNanchor_103_103" id="FNanchor_103_103"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a> +"the export of sugar from the Mauritius has been doubled +in the last sixteen years, having risen from seventy to one hundred +and forty millions of pounds. Sugar is therefore very +cheap, and the foreign competition is thereby driven from the +British market. 'Such conquests,' however, says, very truly, the +London Spectator, 'don't always bring profit to the conqueror; +nor does production itself prove prosperity. Competition for the +possession of a field may be carried so far as to reduce prices +below prime cost; and it is clear, from the notorious facts of the +West Indies—from the change of property, from the total unproductiveness +of much property still—that the West India production +of sugar has been carried on not only without replacing +capital, but with a constant sinking of capital.' The 'free' +Coolie and the 'free' negro of Jamaica have been urged to competition +for the sale of sugar, and they seem likely to perish +together; but compensation for this is found in the fact that +'free trade has, in reducing the prices of commodities for home +consumption, enabled the labourer to devote a greater share of +his income toward purchasing clothing and luxuries, and has increased +the home trade to an enormous extent.' What effect this +reduction of 'the prices of commodities for home consumption' +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span> +has had upon the poor Coolies, may be judged from the following +passage:—'I here beheld, for the first time, a class of beings of +whom we have heard much, and for whom I have felt considerable +interest. I refer to the Coolies imported by the British government +to take the places of the <i>faineant</i> negroes, when the apprenticeship +system was abolished. Those I saw were wandering +about the streets, dressed rather tastefully, but always meanly, +and usually carrying over their shoulder a sort of <i>chiffonnier's</i> +sack, in which they threw whatever refuse stuff they found in the +streets or received as charity. Their figures are generally superb, +and their Eastern costume, to which they adhere as far as their +poverty will permit of any clothing, sets off their lithe and graceful +forms to great advantage. Their faces are almost uniformly +of the finest classic mould, and illuminated by pairs of those +dark, swimming, and propitiatory eyes which exhaust the language +of tenderness and passion at a glance. But they are the +most inveterate mendicants on the island. It is said that those +brought from the interior of India are faithful and efficient workmen, +while those from Calcutta and its vicinity are good for +nothing. Those that were prowling about the streets of Spanish +Town and Kingston, I presume were of the latter class, for there +is not a planter on the island, it is said, from whom it would be +more difficult to get any work than from one of them. They subsist +by begging altogether. They are not vicious nor intemperate, +nor troublesome particularly, except as beggars. In that calling +they have a pertinacity before which a Northern mendicant would +grow pale. They will not be denied. They will stand perfectly +still and look through a window from the street for a quarter of +an hour, if not driven away, with their imploring eyes fixed upon +you like a stricken deer, without saying a word or moving a +muscle. They act as if it were no disgrace for them to beg, as if +an indemnification which they are entitled to expect, for the outrage +perpetrated upon them in bringing them from their distant +homes to this strange island, is a daily supply of their few and +cheap necessities, as they call for them. I confess that their +begging did not leave upon my mind the impression produced by +ordinary mendicancy. They do not look as if they ought to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span> +work. I never saw one smile; and though they showed no positive +suffering, I never saw one look happy. Each face seemed to +be constantly telling the unhappy story of their woes, and, like +fragments of a broken mirror, each reflecting in all its hateful +proportions the national outrage of which they are the victims.'"<a name="FNanchor_104_104" +id="FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a></p></div> + +<p class="i1">English writers have frequently charged the citizens +of the United States with being sordid, and caring +more for pecuniary profit than honourable principle. +No national measure of the great North American +Republic, however, is so deeply tainted with avaricious +motives as the colonial enactments and commercial +schemes of Great Britain. Witness the government +of British India, and the infamous traffic in opium +forced upon the Chinese. In the conveyance of Coolies +to the West Indies, and their treatment while toiling +in those islands, we see the same base spirit displayed. +All considerations of humanity have been sacrificed to +calculations of profit. A people, naturally mild and +intelligent, have been taken from their native land to +distant islands, to take the place of the fierce and barbarous +Africans, to whose civilization slavery seems +almost necessary; and in their new land of bondage +these poor creatures have been deprived of the inducements +to steady exertion, and left to beg or starve.</p> + +<p class="i1">After the passage of the act abolishing negro +slavery, an arrangement was sanctioned by the colonial +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> +government for the introduction of Indian labourers +into the Mauritius, under a species of apprenticeship. +The Coolies were engaged at five rupees, equal +to ten shillings a month, for five years, with also one +pound of rice, a quarter of a pound of dhall, or grain—a +kind of pulse—and one ounce of butter, or ghee, +daily. But for every day they were absent from their +work they were to return two days to their masters, +who retained one rupee per month to pay an advance +made of six months' wages, and to defray the expense +of their passage. If these men came into Port Louis +to complain of their masters, they were lodged in the +Bagne prison till their masters were summoned! Before +the magistrates the masters had a great advantage +over their servants. The latter being foreigners, +but few of them could speak French, and they had no +one to assist them in pleading their cause. They +generally represented themselves as having been deceived +with respect to the kind of labour to be required +of them.<a name="FNanchor_105_105" id="FNanchor_105_105"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">A large number of Indian convicts have been transported +to the Mauritius, and their slavery is deplorable. +Backhouse, who visited the island when these +poor wretches were not so numerous as they now are, +says—"Among the Indian convicts working on the +road, we noticed one wearing chains; several had a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span> +slight single ring round the ankle. They are lodged in +huts with flat roofs, or in other inferior dwellings near +the road. There are about seven hundred of them in +the island. What renders them peculiarly objects of +sympathy is, that they were sent here for life, and no +hope of any remission of sentence is held out to them +for good conduct. Theirs is a hopeless bondage; and +though it is said by some that they are not hard worked, +yet they are generally, perhaps constantly, breaking +stones and mending the roads, and under a tropical +sun. There are among them persons who were so +young when transported that, in their offences, they +could only be looked on as the dupes of those who were +older, and many of them bear good characters."</p> + +<p class="i1">The hopeless slavery of these convicts is a doom +which displays, in a striking light, the characteristics +of British philanthropy. Death would be preferable to +such a punishment, in the estimation of many of the +Hindoos; but the British authorities are determined to +make the punishment pay! After the "eternal blazon" +concerning the act of emancipating negroes, for which +the pauperized labourers of Great Britain had to pay +by their slavery, the colonial government created +another system, attended with the misery and degradation +of a people better fitted for freedom than the +negroes. The civilized world is requested to look on +and admire!</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">SLAVERY IN BRITISH INDIA.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">The</span> extensive, populous, and wealthy peninsula of +Hindostan has suffered greatly from the crushing +effects of the British slave system. From the foundation +of the empire in India by Clive, conquest and +extortion seem to have been the grand objects of the +aristocratic government. There unscrupulous soldiers +have fought, slaughtered, enslaved, and plundered. +There younger sons, with rank, but without fortune, +have filled their purses. There vast and magnificent +tracts of country have been wasted with fire and sword, +in punishment for the refusal of native princes to become +slaves. There the fat of the land has been garnered +up for the luxury of the conquerors, while famine +has destroyed the people by thousands. There, indeed, +has the British aristocracy displayed its most malignant +propensities—rioting in robbery and bloodshed—setting +all religion at defiance, while upholding the +Christian standard—and earning to the full the continued +execration of mankind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">In a powerful work, called "The Aristocracy of +England: a History for the People, by John Hampden, +Jun.," a book we commend to the people of +England, we have the following passage:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"From the hour that Clive and his coadjutors came into the discovery +of the vast treasures of the native princes, whence he himself +obtained, besides his jaghire of £30,000 per annum, about +£300,000; and he and his fellows altogether, between 1759 and +1763, no less than £5,940,498, exclusive of this said jaghire, the +cupidity of the aristocracy became excited to the highest degree; +and from that period to the present, India has been one scene of +flights of aristocratic locusts, of fighting, plundering, oppression, +and extortion of the natives. We will not go into these things; +they are fully and faithfully written in Mills's 'History of British +India;' in Howitt's 'Colonization and Christianity;' and, above +all, in the letters of the Honourable Frederick Shore, brother of +Lord Teignmouth, a man who passed through all offices—from a +clerk to that of a judge—and saw much of the system and working +of things in many parts of India. He published his letters +originally in the India papers, that any one on the spot might +challenge their truth; and, since his death, they have been +reprinted in England. The scene which that work opens up is +the most extraordinary, and demands the attention of every lover +of his country and his species. It fully accounts for the strange +facts, that India is now drained of its wealth; that its public +works, especially the tanks, which contributed by their waters to +maintain its fertility, are fallen to decay; that one-third of the +country is a jungle inhabited by tigers, who pay no taxes; that +its people are reduced to the utmost wretchedness, and are often, +when a crop fails, swept away by half a million at once by +famine and its pendant, pestilence, as in 1770, and again in +1838-9. To such a degree is this reduction of the wealth and +cultivation of India carried, that while others of our colonies pay +taxes to the amount of a pound or thirty shillings per head, India +pays only four shillings.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"At the renewal of its charter in 1834, its income was about +<i>twenty millions</i>, its debt about <i>forty millions</i>. Since then its income +has gradually fallen to about <i>seventeen millions</i>, and its +debt we hear now whispered to be about <i>seventy millions</i>. Such +have been the effects of exhausted fields and physical energies on +the one hand, and of wars, especially that of Afghanistan, on the +other. It requires no conjurer, much less a very profound arithmetician, +to perceive that at this rate we need be under no apprehension +of Russia, for a very few years will take India out of our +hands by mere financial force.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Our aristocratic government, through the Board of Control, +keep up and exert a vast patronage in India. The patronage of +the president of this board alone, independent of his salary of +£5000 a year, is about <i>twenty-one</i> thousand pounds. But the +whole aristocracy have an interest in keeping up wars in India, +that their sons as officers, especially in these times of European +peace, may find here both employment and promotion. This, +then, the Company has to contend against; and few are they +who are aware of the formidable nature of this power as it is exerted +in this direction, and of the strange and unconstitutional +legislative authority with which they have armed themselves for +this purpose. How few are they who are aware that, while the +East India Company has been blamed as the planners, authors, +and movers of the fatal and atrocious invasion of Caboul, that the +Directors of the Company only first, and to their great amazement, +learned the outbreak of that war from the public Indian +papers. So far from that war being one of their originating, it +was most opposed to their present policy, and disastrous to their +affairs. How then came this monstrous war about, and <i>who</i> then +did originate it? To explain this requires us to lay open a +monstrous stretch of unconstitutional power on the part of our +government—a monstrous stratagem for the maintenance of their +aristocratic views in India, which it is wonderful could have +escaped the notice and reprehension of the public. Let the +reader mark well what follows.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In the last charter, granted in 1834, a clause was introduced, +binding a secret committee of the East India Company, consisting +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> +of three persons only, the chairman, deputy chairman, and senior +director, who are solemnly sworn to this work, to receive private +despatches from the Board of Control, and without communicating +them to a single individual besides themselves, to forward +them to India, where the receivers are bound, <i>without question or +appeal</i>, to enforce their immediate execution. By this inquisitorial +system, this worse than Spanish or Venetian system of secret +decrees, government has reserved to itself a direction of the +affairs of India, freed from all constitutional or representative +check, and reduced the India Company to a mere cat's-paw. By +the sworn secrecy and implicit obedience of this mysterious triumvirate, +the Company is made the unconscious instrument of +measures most hostile to its own views, and most fatal to its best +interests. It may at any hour become the medium of a secret +order which may threaten the very destruction of its empire. +Such was the case with the war of Caboul. The aristocratic +government at home planned and ordered it; and the unconscious +Company was made at once to carry out a scheme so +atrocious, so wicked and unprincipled, as well as destructive to +its plans of civil economy, and to bear also the infamy of it. +Awaking, therefore, to the tremendous nature of the secret powers +thus introduced into their machinery by government, the Company +determined to exercise also a power happily intrusted to +<i>them</i>. Hence the recall of Lord Ellenborough, who, in obedience +to aristocratic views at home, was not only running headlong +over all their plans of pacific policy, but with his armies and elephants +was treading under foot their cotton and sugar plantations. +Hence, on the other hand, the favour and support which this +warlike lord finds with the great martial duke, and the home +government."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The policy of the European conquerors of India was +fully illustrated during the gubernatorial term of Warren +Hastings. Of his extortion the eloquent Macaulay +says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">"The principle which directed all his dealings with his neighbours +is fully expressed by the old motto of one of the great +predatory families of Teviotdale—'Thou shalt want ere I want,' +He seems to have laid it down, as a fundamental proposition +which could not be disputed, that when he had not as many lacs +of rupees as the public service required, he was to take them from +anybody who had. One thing, indeed, is to be said in excuse for +him. The pressure applied to him by his employers at home was +such as only the highest virtue could have withstood—such as +left him no choice except to commit great wrongs, or to resign +his high post, and with that post all his hopes of fortune and distinction. +It is perfectly true, that the directors never enjoined +or applauded any crime. Far from it. Whoever examines their +letters at that time will find there many just and humane sentiments, +many excellent precepts; in short, an admirable circle of +political ethics. But every exhortation is modified or annulled +by a demand for money. 'Govern leniently, and send more +money; practise strict justice and moderation toward neighbouring +powers, and send more money;' this is, in truth, the sum of +almost all the instructions that Hastings ever received from +home. Now these instructions, being interpreted, mean simply, +'Be the father and the oppressor of the people; be just and unjust, +moderate and rapacious.' The directors dealt with India +as the church, in the good old times, dealt with a heretic. They +delivered the victim over to the executioners, with an earnest +request that all possible tenderness might be shown. We by no +means accuse or suspect those who framed these despatches of +hypocrisy. It is probable that, writing fifteen thousand miles +from the place where their orders were to be carried into effect, +they never perceived the gross inconsistency of which they were +guilty. But the inconsistency was at once manifest to their +lieutenant at Calcutta, who, with an empty treasury, with an unpaid +army, with his own salary often in arrear, with deficient +crops, with government tenants daily running away, was called +upon to remit home another half million without fail. Hastings +saw that it was absolutely necessary for him to disregard either +the moral discourses or the pecuniary requisitions of his employers. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> +Being forced to disobey them in something, he had to +consider what kind of disobedience they would most readily pardon; +and he correctly judged that the safest course would be to +neglect the sermons and to find the rupees."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">How were the rupees found? By selling provinces +that had never belonged to the British dominions; by +the destruction of the brave Rohillas of Rohilcund, in +the support of the cruel tyrant, Surajah Dowlah, sovereign +of Oude, of which terrible act Macaulay says—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Then the horrors of Indian war were let loose on the fair +valleys and cities of Rohilcund; the whole country was in a blaze. +More than a hundred thousand people fled from their homes to +pestilential jungles, preferring famine and fever and the haunts +of tigers to the tyranny of him to whom an English and a Christian +government had, for shameful lucre, sold their substance and +their blood, and the honour of their wives and daughters. Colonel +Champion remonstrated with the Nabob Vizier, and sent strong +representations to Fort William; but the governor had made no +conditions as to the mode in which the war was to be carried on. +He had troubled himself about nothing but his forty lacs; and, +though he might disapprove of Surajah Dowlah's wanton barbarity, +he did not think himself entitled to interfere, except by offering +advice. This delicacy excites the admiration of the reverend biographer. +'Mr. Hastings,' he says, 'could not himself dictate to +the Nabob, nor permit the commander of the Company's troops +to dictate how the war was to be carried on.' No, to be sure. +Mr. Hastings had only to put down by main force the brave struggles +of innocent men fighting for their liberty. Their military +resistance crushed, his duties ended; and he had then only to +fold his arms and look on while their villages were burned, their +children butchered, and their women violated."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">By such a course of action, Warren Hastings made +the British empire in India pay. By such means did +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span> +the aristocrats, of whom the governor was the tool, +obtain the money which would enable them to live in +luxury.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The servants of the Company obtained—not for their employers, +but for themselves—a monopoly of almost the whole internal +trade; they forced the natives to buy dear and sell cheap; they +insulted with perfect impunity the tribunals, the police, and the +fiscal authorities of the country; they covered with their protection +a set of native dependants, who ranged through the provinces +spreading desolation and terror wherever they appeared. Every +servant of a British factor was armed with all the power of his +master, and his master was armed with all the power of the Company. +Enormous fortunes were thus rapidly accumulated at +Calcutta, while thirty millions of human beings were reduced to +the last extremity of wretchedness. They had been accustomed +to live under tyranny, but never under tyranny like this; they +found the little finger of the Company thicker than the loins of +Surajah Dowlah. Under their old masters they had at least one +resource; when the evil became insupportable, they rose and +pulled down the government. But the English government was +not to be so shaken off. That government, oppressive as the most +oppressive form of barbarian despotism, was strong with all the +strength of civilization; it resembled the government of evil genii +rather than the government of human tyrants." * * *</p> + +<p class="i1">"The foreign lords of Bengal were naturally objects of hatred +to all the neighbouring powers, and to all the haughty race presented +a dauntless front; their armies, everywhere outnumbered, +were everywhere victorious. A succession of commanders, formed +in the school of Clive, still maintained the fame of their country. +'It must be acknowledged,' says the Mussulman historian of those +times, 'that this nation's presence of mind, firmness of temper, +and undaunted bravery are past all question. They join the +most resolute courage to the most cautious prudence; nor have +they their equal in the art of ranging themselves in battle array +and fighting in order. If to so many military qualifications they +knew how to join the arts of government—if they exerted as much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span> +ingenuity and solicitude in relieving the people of God as they +do in whatever concerns their military affairs, no nation in the +world would be preferable to them or worthier of command; but +the people under their dominion groan everywhere, and are reduced +to poverty and distress. O God! come to the assistance +of thine afflicted servants, and deliver them from the oppressions +they suffer.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">From the earliest times the "village system," with +its almost patriarchal regulations, seems to have prevailed +in Hindostan. Each village had its distinct +organization, and over a certain number of villages, or +a district, was an hereditary chief and an accountant, +both possessing great local influence and authority, and +certain estates.<a name="FNanchor_106_106" id="FNanchor_106_106"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> The Hindoos were strongly attached +to their native villages, and could only be forced to +abandon them by the most constant oppressions. Dynasties +might change and revolutions occur, but so long +as each little community remained undisturbed, the +Hindoos were contented. Mohammedan conquerors left +this beautiful system, which had much more of genuine +freedom than the British institutions at the present day, +untouched. The English conquerors were not so merciful, +although they were acquainted with Christianity. +The destruction of local organizations and the centralization +of authority, which is always attended with the +increase of slavery,<a name="FNanchor_107_107" id="FNanchor_107_107"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> have been the aims of English +efforts. The principle that the government is the sole +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span> +proprietor of the land, and therefore entitled to a large +share of the produce, has been established, and slavery, +to escape famine and misery, has become necessary to +the Hindoos.</p> + +<p class="i1">Exhaustion was the result of the excessive taxation +laid upon the Hindoos by the East India Company. As +the government became stinted for revenue, Lord Cornwallis +was instructed to make a permanent settlement, +by means of which all the rights of village proprietors +over a large portion of Bengal were sacrificed in favour +of the Zemindars, or head men, who were thus at once +constituted great landed proprietors—masters of a large +number of poor tenants, with power to punish at discretion +those who were not able to pay whatever rent was +demanded.<a name="FNanchor_108_108" id="FNanchor_108_108"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> From free communities, the villages were +reduced to the condition of British tenants-at-will. The +Zemindaree system was first applied to Bengal. In +Madras another system, called the Ryotwar, was introduced. +This struck a fatal blow at the local organizations, +which were the sources of freedom and happiness +among the Hindoos. Government assumed all the +functions of an immediate landholder, and dealt with +the individual cultivators as its own tenants, getting as +much out of them as possible.</p> + +<p class="i1">The Zemindars are an unthrifty, rack-renting class, +and take the uttermost farthing from the under-tenants. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span> +Oppressions and evictions are their constant employments; +and since they have been constituted a landed +aristocracy, they have fully acted out the character in +the genuine British fashion.</p> + +<p class="i1">Another tenure, called the Patnee, has been established +of late years, by some of the great Zemindars, with the +aid of government enactments, and it is very common in +Bengal. The great Zemindar, for a consideration, makes +over a portion of his estate in fee to another, subject to +a perpetual rent, payable through the collector, who receives +it on behalf of the zemindar; and if it is not paid, +the interests of the patneedar are sold by the collector. +These, again, have sub-patneedars, and the system has +become very much in vogue in certain districts. The +parties are like the Irish middlemen, and the last screws +the tenant to the uttermost.<a name="FNanchor_109_109" id="FNanchor_109_109"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a></p> + +<p class="i1">During the British government of Bengal, wealth has +been accumulated by a certain superior class, and population, +cultivation, and the receipts from rent of land, +have largely increased; but, as in England, the mass of +the people are poor and degraded. In the rich provinces +of Upper India, where the miserable landed system of +the conquerors has been introduced, the results have +been even more deplorable. Communities, once free, +happy, and possessed of plenty, are now broken up, or +subjected to such excessive taxation that their members +are kept in poverty and slavery.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">Colonel Sleeman, in his "Rambles and Recollections of +an Indian Official," records a conversation which he held +with the head landholder of a village, organized under +the Zemindar system. During the dialogue, some statements +were made which are important for our purpose.</p> + +<p class="i1">The colonel congratulated himself that he had given +satisfactory replies to the arguments of the Zemindar, +and accounted naturally for the evils suffered by the +villagers. The reader will, doubtless, form a different +opinion:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In the early part of November, after a heavy fall of rain, I +was driving alone in my buggy from Garmuktesin on the Ganges, +to Meerut. The roads were very bad, the stage a double one, and +my horse became tired and unable to go on. I got out at a small +village to give him a little rest and food; and sat down under the +shade of one old tree upon the trunk of another that the storm +had blown down, while my groom, the only servant I had with me, +rubbed down and baited my horse. I called for some parched +grain from the same shop which supplied my horse, and got a +draught of good water, drawn from the well by an old woman, in +a brass jug lent to me for the purpose by the shopkeeper.</p> + +<p class="i1">"While I sat contentedly and happily stripping my parched +grain from its shell, and eating it grain by grain, the farmer, or +head landholder of the village, a sturdy old Rajpoot, came up and +sat himself, without any ceremony, down by my side, to have a +little conversation. [To one of the dignitaries of the land, in whose +presence the aristocracy are alone considered entitled to chairs, +this easy familiarity seems at first strange and unaccountable; he is +afraid that the man intends to offer him some indignity, or what is +still worse, mistakes him for something less than a dignitary! +The following dialogue took place:—]</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You are a Rajpoot, and a Zemindar?' (landholder.)</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes; I am the head landholder of this village.'</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"'Can you tell me how that village in the distance is elevated +above the ground; is it from the debris of old villages, or from a +rock underneath?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'It is from the debris of old villages. That is the original seat +of all the Rajpoots around; we all trace our descent from the +founders of that village, who built and peopled it many centuries +ago.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And you have gone on subdividing your inheritances here as +elsewhere, no doubt, till you have hardly any of you any thing to +eat?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'True, we have hardly any of us enough to eat; but that is +the fault of the government, that does not leave us enough—that +takes from us as much when the season is bad as when it is +good!'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'But your assessment has not been increased, has it?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No; we have concluded a settlement for twenty years upon +the same footing as formerly.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And if the sky were to shower down upon you pearls and +diamonds, instead of water, the government would never demand +more from you than the rate fixed upon?'</p> + +<p class="i1">'No.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Then why should you expect remissions in bad seasons?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'It cannot be disputed that the <i>burkut</i> (blessing from above) +is less under you than it used to be formerly, and that the lands +yield less from our labour.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'True, my old friend, but do you know the reason why?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Then I will tell you. Forty or fifty years ago, in what you +call the times of the <i>burkut</i>, (blessing from above,) the cavalry of +Seikh, free-booters from the Punjab, used to sweep over this fine +plain, in which stands the said village from which you are all descended; +and to massacre the whole population of some villages; +and a certain portion of that of every other village; and the +lands of those killed used to lie waste for want of cultivators. Is +not this all true?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, quite true.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And the fine groves which had been planted over this plain +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span> +by your ancestors, as they separated from the great parent stock, +and formed independent villages and hamlets for themselves, +were all swept away and destroyed by the same hordes of free-booters, +from whom your poor imbecile emperors, cooped up in +yonder large city of Delhi, were utterly unable to defend you?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Quite true,' said the old man with a sigh. 'I remember +when all this fine plain was as thickly studded with fine groves +of mango-trees as Rohilcund, or any other part of India.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You know that the land requires rest from labour, as well as +men and bullocks; and that if you go on sowing wheat, and other +exhausting crops, it will go on yielding less and less returns, and +at last not be worth the tilling?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Quite well.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Then why do you not give the land rest by leaving it longer +fallow, or by a more frequent alternation of crops relieve it?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Because we have now increased so much, that we should not +get enough to eat were we to leave it to fallow; and unless we +tilled it with exhausting crops we should not get the means of paying +our rents to government.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The Seikh hordes in former days prevented this; they killed +off a certain portion of your families, and gave the land the <i>rest</i> +which you now refuse it. When you had exhausted one part, you +found another recovered by a long fallow, so that you had better +returns; but now that we neither kill you, nor suffer you to be +killed by others, you have brought all the cultivable lands into +tillage; and under the old system of cropping to exhaustion, it +is not surprising that they yield you less returns.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"By this time we had a crowd of people seated around us upon +the ground, as I went on munching my parched grain and talking +to the old patriarch. They all laughed at the old man at the +conclusion of my last speech, and he confessed I was right.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'This is all true, sir, but still your government is not considerate; +it goes on taking kingdom after kingdom and adding to +its dominions, without diminishing the burden upon us its old subjects. +Here you have had armies away taking Afghanistan, but +we shall not have one rupee the less to pay.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'True, my friend, nor would you demand a rupee less from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span> +those honest cultivators around us, if we were to leave you all +your lands untaxed. You complain of the government—they +complain of you. [Here the circle around us laughed at the old +man again.] Nor would you subdivide the lands the less for +having it rent free; on the contrary, it would be every generation +subdivided the more, inasmuch as there would be more of local +ties, and a greater disinclination on the part of the members of +families to separate and seek service abroad.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'True, sir, very true; that is, no doubt, a very great evil.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And you know it is not an evil produced by us, but one +arising out of your own laws of inheritance. You have heard, +no doubt, that with us the eldest son gets the whole of the land, +and the younger sons all go out in search of service, with such +share as they can get of the other property of their father?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Yes, sir; but where shall we get service—you have none to +give us. I would serve to-morrow, if you would take me as a +soldier,' said he, stroking his white whiskers.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The crowd laughed heartily, and some wag observed, 'that +perhaps I should think him too old.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well,' said the old man, smiling, 'the gentleman himself is +not very young, and yet I dare say he is a good servant of his +government.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"This was paying me off for making the people laugh at his +expense. 'True, my old friend,' said I, 'but I began to serve +when I was young, and have been long learning.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Very well,' said the old man; 'but I should be glad to serve +the rest of my life upon a less salary than you got when you +began to learn.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Well, my friend, you complain of our government; but you +must acknowledge that we do all we can to protect you, though +it is true that we are often acting in the dark.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Often, sir? you are always acting in the dark; you hardly +any of you know any thing of what your revenue and police officers +are doing; there is no justice or redress to be got without +paying for it; and it is not often that those who pay can get it.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'True, my old friend, that is bad all over the world. You +cannot presume to ask any thing even from the Deity himself, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span> +without paying the priest who officiates in his temples; and if +you should, you would none of you hope to get from your deity +what you asked for.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Here the crowd laughed again, and one of them said 'that +there was certainly this to be said for our government, that the +European gentlemen themselves never took bribes, whatever those +under them might do.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'You must not be too sure of that neither. Did not the Lal +Beebee (red lady) get a bribe for soliciting the judge, her husband, +to let go Ameer Sing, who had been confined in jail?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'How did this take place?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'About three years ago Ameer Sing was sentenced to imprisonment, +and his friends spent a great deal of money in bribes to +the native officers of the court, but all in vain. At last they were +recommended to give a handsome present to the red lady. They +did so, and Ameer Sing was released.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'But did they give the present into the lady's own hand?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'No, they gave it to one of her women.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'And how do you know that she ever gave it to her mistress, +or that her mistress ever heard of the transaction?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'She might certainly have been acting without her mistress's +knowledge; but the popular belief is, that Lal Beebee got the +present.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"I then told them the story of the affair at Jubbulpore, when +Mrs. Smith's name had been used for a similar purpose, and the +people around us were highly amused; and the old man's opinion +of the transaction evidently underwent a change.<a name="FNanchor_110_110" +id="FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a></p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"We became good friends, and the old man begged me to have +my tents, which he supposed were coming up, pitched among +them, that he might have an opportunity of showing that he was +not a bad subject, though he grumbled against the government.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The next day, at Meerut, I got a visit from the chief native +judge, whose son, a talented youth, is in my office. Among other +things, I asked him whether it might not be possible to improve +the character of the police by increasing the salaries of the officers, +and mentioned my conversation with the landholder.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Never, sir,' said the old gentleman; 'the man that now gets +twenty-five rupees a month, is contented with making perhaps +fifty or seventy-five more; and the people subject to his authority +pay him accordingly. Give him a hundred, sir, and he will put +a shawl over his shoulders, and the poor people will be obliged +to pay him at a rate which will make up his income to four hundred. +You will only alter his style of living, and make him a +greater burden to the people; he will always take as long as he +thinks he can with impunity.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'But do you not think that when people see a man adequately +paid by government, they will the more readily complain at any +attempt at unauthorized exactions?'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Not a bit, sir, as long as they see the same difficulties in the +way of prosecuting them to conviction. In the administration +of civil justice (the old gentleman is a civil judge) you may occasionally +see your way, and understand what is doing; but in +revenue and police you have never seen it in India, and never +will, I think. The officers you employ will all add to their incomes +by unauthorized means; and the lower their incomes, the +less their pretensions, and the less the populace have to pay.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">In the "History of the Possessions of the Honourable +East India Company," by R. Montgomery Martin, F. S. +S., the following statements occur: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span>—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The following estimate has been made of the population of the +allied and independent states:—Hydrabad, 10,000,000; Oude, +6,000,000; Nagpoor, 3,000,000; Mysore, 3,000,000; Sattara, +1,500,000; Gurckwar, 2,000,000; Travancore and Cochin, 1,000,000; +Rajpootana, and various minor principalities, 16,500,000; Sciudias +territories, 4,000,000; the Seiks, 3,000,000; Nepál, 2,000,000; +Cashmere, etc., 1,000,000; Scinde, 1,000,000; total, 51,000,000. +This, of course, is but a rough estimate by Hamilton, (Slavery in +British India.) For the last forty years the East India Company's +government have been gradually, but safely, abolishing slavery +throughout their dominions; they began in 1789 with putting +down the maritime traffic, by prosecuting any person caught in +exporting or importing slaves by sea, long before the British government +abolished that infernal commerce in the Western world, +and they have ever since sedulously sought the final extinction of +that domestic servitude which had long existed throughout the +East, as recognised by the Hindoo and Mohammedan law. In +their despatches of 1798, it was termed '<i>an inhuman commerce +and cruel traffic</i>.' French, Dutch, or Danish subjects captured +within the limit of their dominions in the act of purchasing or +conveying slaves were imprisoned and heavily fined, and every +encouragement was given to their civil and military servants to +aid in protecting the first rights of humanity.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Mr. Robertson,<a name="FNanchor_111_111" id="FNanchor_111_111"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> +in reference to Cawnpore, observes:—'Domestic +slavery exists; but of an agricultural slave I do not recollect +a single instance. When I speak of <i>domestic</i> slavery, I mean +that <i>status</i> which I must call slavery for want of any more accurate +designation. It does not, however, resemble that which is +understood in Europe to be slavery; it is the mildest species of +servitude. The domestic slaves are certain persons purchased in +times of scarcity; children purchased from their parents; they +grow up in the family, and are almost entirely employed in domestic +offices in the house; not liable to be resold.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'There is a certain species of slavery in South Bahar, where +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span> +a man mortgages his labour for a certain sum of money; and this +species of slavery exists also in Arracan and Ava. It is for his +life, or until he shall pay the sum, that he is obliged to labour for +the person who lends him the money; and if he can repay the +sum, he emancipates himself.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'Masters have no power of punishment recognised by our +laws. Whatever may be the provision of the Mohammedan or Hindoo +codes to that effect, it is a dead letter, for we would not recognise +it. The master doubtless may sometimes inflict domestic +punishment; but if he does, the slave rarely thinks of complaining +of it. Were he to do so his complaint would be received.' +This, in fact, is the palladium of liberty in England.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In Malabar, according to the evidence of Mr. Baber, slavery, +as mentioned by Mr. Robertson, also exists, and perhaps the same +is the case in Guzerat and to the north; but the wonder is, not +that such is the case, but that it is so partial in extent, and fortunately +so bad in character, approximating indeed so much toward +the feudal state as to be almost beyond the reach as well as the +necessity of laws which at present would be practically inoperative. +The fact, that of 100,000,000 British inhabitants, [or allowing +five to a family, 20,000,000 families,] upward of 16,000,000 +are landed proprietors, shows to what a confined extent even domestic +slavery exists. A commission has been appointed by the +new charter to inquire into this important but delicate subject.'"</p></div> + +<p class="i1">We have quoted this passage from a writer who is a +determined advocate of every thing <i>British</i>, whether it +be good or had, in order to show by his own admission +that chattel slavery, that is the precise form of slavery +of which the British express such a holy horror, exists +in British India under the sanction of British laws. +Nor does it exist to a small extent only, as he would +have us believe. It has always existed there, and must +necessarily be on the increase, from the very cause +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span> +which he points out, viz. famine. No country in the +world, thanks to British oppression, is so frequently +and so extensively visited by famine as India; and as +the natives can escape in many instances from starving +to death by selling themselves, and can save their children +by selling them into slavery, we can readily form +an estimate of the great extent to which this takes +place in cases of famine, where the people are perishing +by thousands and tens of thousands. As to the +statement that the government of the East India Company +have been endeavouring to abolish this species of +slavery, it proves any thing rather than a desire to +benefit the natives of India. Chattel slaves are not +desired by British subjects because the ownership of +them involves the necessity of supporting them in sickness +and old age. The kind of slavery which the +British have imposed on the great mass of their East +Indian subjects is infinitely more oppressive and inhuman +than chattel slavery. Indeed it would not at all +suit the views of the British aristocracy to have chattel +slavery become so fashionable in India as to interfere +with their own cherished system of political slavery, +which is so extensively and successfully practised in +England, Scotland, Ireland, and the West and East +Indies. The money required for the support of chattel +slaves could not be spared by the aristocratic governments +in the colonies. The object is to take the fruits +of the labourer's toil without providing for him at all. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> +When labourers are part of a master's capital, the +better he provides for them the more they are worth. +When they are not property, the character of their subsistence +is of no importance; but they must yield the +greater part of the results of their toil.</p> + +<p class="i1">The "salt laws" of India are outrageously oppressive. +An account of their operation will give the +reader a taste of the character of the legislation to +which the British have subjected conquered Hindoos. +Such an account we find in a recent number of +"Household Words," which Lord Shaftesbury and his +associates in luxury and philanthropy should read more +frequently than we can suppose they do:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Salt, in India, is a government monopoly. It is partially imported, +and partially manufactured in government factories. +These factories are situated in dreary marshes—the workers obtaining +certain equivocal privileges, on condition of following +their occupation in these pestiferous regions, where hundreds of +these wretched people fall, annually, victims to the plague or the +floods.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The salt consumed in India must be purchased through the +government, at a duty of upward of two pounds per ton, making +the price to the consumer about eight pence per pound. In England, +salt may be purchased by retail, three pounds, or wholesale, +five pounds for one penny; while in India, upward of thirty +millions of persons, whose average incomes do not amount to +above three shillings per week, are compelled to expend one-fourth +of that pittance in salt for themselves and families.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It may naturally be inferred, that, with such a heavy duty +upon this important necessary of life, that underhand measures +are adopted by the poor natives for supplying themselves. We +shall see, however, by the following severe regulations, that the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span> +experiment is too hazardous to be often attempted. Throughout +the whole country there are numerous 'salt chokies,' or police +stations, the superintendents of which are invested with powers +of startling and extraordinary magnitude.</p> + +<p class="i1">"When information is lodged with such superintendent that +salt is stored in any place without a '<i>ruwana</i>,' or permit, he proceeds +to collect particulars of the description of the article, the +quantity stated to be stored, and the name of the owner of the +store. If the quantity stated to be stored exceeds seventy +pounds, he proceeds with a body of police to make the seizure. +If the door is not opened to him at once, he is invested with full +power to break it open; and if the police-officers exhibit the least +backwardness in assisting, or show any sympathy with the unfortunate +owner, they are liable to be heavily fined. The owner +of the salt, with all persons found upon the premises, are immediately +apprehended, and are liable to six months' imprisonment +for the first offence, twelve for the second, and eighteen +months for the third; so that if a poor Indian was to see a shower +of salt in his garden, (there <i>are</i> showers of salt sometimes,) and +to attempt to take advantage of it without paying duty, he would +become liable to this heavy punishment. The superintendent of +police is also empowered to detain and search trading vessels, +and if salt be found on board without a permit, the whole of the +crew may be apprehended and tried for the offence. Any person +erecting a distilling apparatus in his own house, merely to distil +enough sea-water for the use of his household, is liable to such a +fine as may ruin him. In this case, direct proof is not required, +but inferred from circumstances at the discretion of the judge.</p> + +<p class="i1">"If a person wishes to erect a factory upon his own estate, he +must first give notice to the collector of revenue of all the particulars +relative thereto, failing which, the collector may order +all the works to be destroyed. Having given notice, officers are +immediately quartered upon the premises, who have access to all +parts thereof, for fear the company should be defrauded of the +smallest amount of duty. When duty <i>is</i> paid upon any portion, +the collector, upon giving a receipt, specifies the name and residence +of the person to whom it is to be delivered, to whom it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span> +<i>must</i> be delivered within a stated period, or become liable to +fresh duty. To wind up, and make assurance doubly sure, the +police may seize and detain any load or package which may pass +the stations, till they are satisfied such load or package does not +contain contraband salt.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Such are the salt laws of India; such the monopoly by which +a revenue of three millions sterling is raised; and such the system +which, in these days of progress and improvement, acts as an +incubus upon the energies, the mental resources, and social advancement +of the immense population of India.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Political economists of all shades of opinion—men who have +well studied the subject—deliberately assert that nothing would +tend so much toward the improvement of that country, and to a +more complete development of its vast natural resources, than +the abolition of these laws; and we can only hope, without +blaming any one, that at no distant day a more enlightened +policy will pervade the councils of the East India Company, and +that the poor Hindoo will be emancipated from the thraldom of +these odious enactments.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But apart from every other consideration, there is one, in +connection with the Indian salt-tax, which touches the domestic +happiness and vital interest of every inhabitant in Great Britain. +It is decided, by incontrovertible medical testimony, that cholera +(whose ravages every individual among us knows something, +alas! too well about) is in a great measure engendered, and its +progress facilitated, by the prohibitory duties on salt in India, +the very cradle of the pestilence. Our precautionary measures +to turn aside the plague from our doors, appear to be somewhat +ridiculous, while the plague itself is suffered to exist, when it +might be destroyed—its existence being tolerated only to administer +to the pecuniary advantage of a certain small class of the +community. Let the medical men of this country look to it. +Let the people of this country generally look to it; for there is +matter for grave and solemn consideration, both nationally and +individually, in the Indian salt-tax."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Yes, the salt-tax is very oppressive; but it <i>pays</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span> +those who authorized its assessment, and that is +sufficient for them. When they discover some means +of obtaining its equivalent—some oppression quite as +cruel but not so obvious—we may expect to hear of +the abolition of the odious salt monopoly.</p> + +<p class="i1">Famines (always frightfully destructive in India) +have become more numerous than ever, under the +blighting rule of the British aristocrats. Vast tracts +of country, once the support of busy thousands, have +been depopulated by these dreadful visitations.</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The soil seems to lie under a curse. Instead of yielding +abundance for the wants of its own population and the inhabitants +of other regions, it does not keep in existence its own children. +It becomes the burying-place of millions who die upon its +bosom crying for bread. In proof of this, turn your eyes backward +upon the scenes of the past year. Go with me into the +North-west provinces of the Bengal presidency, and I will show +you the bleaching skeletons of five hundred thousand human +beings, who perished of hunger in the space of a few short +months. Yes, died of hunger, in what has been justly called the +granary of the world. Bear with me, if I speak of the scenes +which were exhibited during the prevalence of this famine. The +air for miles was poisoned by the effluvia emitted from the putrefying +bodies of the dead. The rivers were choked with the +corpses thrown into their channels. Mothers cast their little ones +beneath the rolling waves, because they would not see them draw +their last gasp and feel them stiffen in their arms. The English +in the cities were prevented from taking their customary evening +drives. Jackals and vultures approached, and fastened upon the +bodies of men, women, and children before life was extinct. +Madness, disease, despair stalked abroad, and no human power +present to arrest their progress. It was the carnival of death. +And this occurred in British India—in the reign of Victoria the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span> +First. Nor was the event extraordinary and unforeseen. Far +from it: 1835-36 witnessed a famine in the Northern provinces; +1833 beheld one to the eastward; 1822-23 saw one in the +Deccan."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The above extract from one of George Thompson's +"Lectures on India," conveys an idea of the horrors +of a famine in that country. What then must be the +guilt of that government that adopts such measures as +tend to increase the frequency and swell the horror of +these scenes! By draining the resources of the people, +and dooming them to the most pinching poverty, the +British conquerors have greatly increased the dangers +of the visitations of famine, and opened to it a wide field +for destruction. The poor Hindoos may be said to live +face to face with starvation. The following account of +the famine of 1833 is given by Colonel Sleeman, in +his "Rambles and Recollections:"—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"During the famine of 1833, as on all similar occasions, grain +of every kind, attracted by high prices, flowed up in large streams +from this favoured province (Malwa) toward Bundelcund; and +the population of Bundelcund, as usual in such times of dearth and +scarcity, flowed off toward Malwa against the stream of supply, +under the assurance that the nearer they got to the source the +greater would be their chance of employment and subsistence. +Every village had its numbers of the dead and the dying; and the +roads were all strewed with them; but they were mostly concentrated +upon the great towns, and civil and military stations, where +subscriptions were open for their support by both the European +and native communities. The funds arising from these subscriptions +lasted till the rain had fairly set in, when all able-bodied +persons could easily find employment in tillage among the agricultural +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span> +communities of the villages around. After the rains have +fairly set in, the <i>sick</i> and <i>helpless</i> only should be kept concentrated +upon large towns and stations, where little or no employment is +to be found; for the oldest and youngest of those who are able to +work can then easily find employment in weeding the cotton, rice, +sugar-cane, and other fields under autumn crops, and in preparing +the land for the reception of the wheat, grain, and other spring +seeds; and get advances from the farmers, agricultural capitalists, +and other members of the village communities, who are all glad to +share their superfluities with the distressed, and to pay liberally +for the little service they are able to give in return.</p> + +<p class="i1">"At large places, where the greater numbers are concentrated, +the scene becomes exceedingly distressing, for in spite of the best +dispositions and greatest efforts on the part of government and its +officers, and the European and native communities, thousands +commonly die of starvation. At Saugor, mothers, as they lay in +the streets unable to walk, were seen holding up their infants, and +imploring the passing stranger to take them in slavery, that they +might at least live—hundreds were seen creeping into gardens, +courtyards, and old ruins, concealing themselves under shrubs, +grass, mats, or straw, where they might die quietly, without having +their bodies torn by birds and beasts before the breath had left +them! Respectable families, who left home in search of the +favoured land of Malwa, while yet a little property remained, +finding all exhausted, took opium rather than beg, and husband, +wife, and children died in each other's arms! Still more of such +families lingered on in hope until all had been expended; then +shut their doors, took poison, and died all together, rather than expose +their misery, and submit to the degradation of begging. All +these things I have myself known and seen; and in the midst of +these and a hundred other harrowing scenes which present themselves +on such occasions, the European cannot fail to remark the +patient resignation with which the poor people submit to their fate; +and the absence of almost all those revolting acts which have +characterized the famines of which he has read in other countries—such +as the living feeding on the dead, and mothers devouring their +own children. No such things are witnessed in Indian famines; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span> +here all who suffer attribute the disaster to its real cause, the want +of rain in due season; and indulge in no feelings of hatred against +their rulers, superiors, or more fortunate equals in society, who +happen to live beyond the influence of such calamities. They +gratefully receive the superfluities which the more favoured are +always found ready to share with the afflicted in India; and +though their sufferings often subdue the strongest of all pride—the +pride of caste, they rarely ever drive people to acts of violence. +The stream of emigration, guided as it always is by that of the +agricultural produce flowing in from the more favoured countries, +must necessarily concentrate upon the communities along the line +it takes a greater number of people than they have the means of +relieving, however benevolent their dispositions; and I must say, +that I have never either seen or read of a nobler spirit than seems +to animate all classes of these communities in India on such distressing +occasions."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The same writer has some judicious general remarks +upon the causes of famine in India, which are worthy +of quotation. We have only to add, that whatever +may be found in the climate and character of the +country that expose the people to the frequency of +want, the conquerors have done their best to aggravate +natural evils:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In India, unfavourable seasons produce much more disastrous +consequences than in Europe. In England, not more than one-fourth +of the population derive their incomes from the cultivation +of the land around them. Three-fourths of the people have incomes, +independent of the annual returns from those lands; and with +these incomes they can purchase agricultural produce from other +lands when the crops upon them fail. The farmers, who form so +large a portion of the fourth class, have stock equal in value to +<i>four times the amount of the annual rent of their lands</i>. They have +also a great variety of crops; and it is very rare that more than +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span> +one or two of them fail, or are considerably affected, the same +season. If they fail in one district or province, the deficiency is +very easily supplied to people who have equivalents to give for +the produce of another. The sea, navigable rivers, fine roads, all +are open and ready at all times for the transport of the super-abundance +of one quarter to supply the deficiencies of another. +In India the reverse of all this is unhappily everywhere to be +found; more than three-fourths of the whole population are engaged +in the cultivation of the land, and depend upon its annual +returns for subsistence. The farmers and cultivators have none +of them stock equal in value to more than <i>half the amount of the +annual rents of their lands</i>. They have a great variety of crops; +but all are exposed to the same accidents, and commonly fail at +the same time. The autumn crops are sown in June and July, +and ripen in October and November; and if seasonable showers +do not fall in July, August, and September, all fail. The spring +crops are sown in October and November, and ripen in March; +and if seasonable showers do not happen to fall during December +or January, all, save what are artificially irrigated, fail. If they +fail in one district or province, the people have few equivalents to +offer for a supply of land produce from any other. Their roads +are scarcely anywhere passable for wheeled carriages at <i>any season</i>, +and nowhere <i>at all seasons</i>—they have nowhere a navigable +canal, and only in one line a navigable river. Their land produce +is conveyed upon the backs of bullocks, that move at the rate of +six or eight miles a day, and add one hundred per cent. to the +cost for every hundred miles they carry it in the best seasons, and +more than two hundred in the worst. What in Europe is felt +merely as a <i>dearth</i>, becomes in India, under all these disadvantages, +a <i>scarcity</i>; and what is there a <i>scarcity</i> becomes here a +famine."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Another illustration of the truth that poverty is the +source of crime and depravity is found in India. Statistics +and the evidence of recent travellers show that +the amount of vice in the different provinces is just in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span> +proportion to the length of time they have been under +British rule. No stronger proof of the iniquity of the +government—of its poisonous tendencies as well as +positive injustice—could be adduced.</p> + +<p class="i1">The cultivation and exportation of the pernicious +drug, opium, which destroys hundreds of thousands of +lives annually, have latterly been prominent objects of +the East Indian government. The best tracts of land +in India were chosen for the cultivation of the poppy. +The people were told that they must either raise this +plant, make opium, or give up their land. Furthermore, +those who produced the drug were compelled to +sell it to the Company. In the Bengal Presidency, the +monopoly of the government is complete. It has its +establishment for the manufacture of the drug. There +are two great agencies at Ghazeepore and Patna, for +the Benares and Bahar provinces. Each opium agent +has several deputies in different districts, and a native +establishment. They enter into contracts with the cultivator +for the supply of opium at a rate fixed to suit +the demand. The land-revenue authorities do not interfere, +except to prevent cultivation without permission. +The land cultivated is measured, and all the +produce must be sold to the government. At the head +agency the opium is packed in chests and sealed with +the Company's seal.<a name="FNanchor_112_112" id="FNanchor_112_112"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">The imperial government of China, seeing that the +traffic in opium was sowing misery and death among its +subjects, prohibited the introduction of the drug within +the empire in 1839. But the British had a vast amount +of capital at stake, and the profits of the trade were too +great to be relinquished for any considerations of humanity. +War was declared; thousands of Chinese were +slaughtered, and the imperial government forced to +permit the destructive traffic on a more extensive scale +than ever, and to pay $2,000,000 besides for daring to +protest against it!</p> + +<p class="i1">The annual revenue now realized from the opium +traffic amounts to £3,500,000. It is estimated that +about 400,000 Chinese perish every year in consequence +of using the destructive drug, while the amount +of individual and social misery proceeding from the +same cause is appalling to every humane heart. Among +the people of India who have been forced into the cultivation +and manufacture of opium, the use of it has +greatly increased under the fostering care of the government. +The Company seems to be aware that a people +enervated by excessive indulgence will make little effort +to throw off the chains of slavery. Keep the Hindoo +drunk with opium and he will not rebel.</p> + +<p class="i1">The effects of this drug upon the consumer are thus +described by a distinguished Chinese scholar:—"It +exhausts the animal spirits, impedes the regular performance +of business, wastes the flesh and blood, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span> +dissipates every kind of property, renders the person +ill-favoured, promotes obscenity, discloses secrets, violates +the laws, attacks the vitals, and destroys life." +This statement is confirmed by other natives, and also +by foreign residents; and it is asserted that, as a +general rule, a person does not live more than ten years +after becoming addicted to the use of this drug.</p> + +<p class="i1">The recent Burmese war had for one of its objects +the opening of a road to the interior of China, for the +purpose of extending the opium trade. And for such +an object thousands of brave Burmese were slaughtered, +fertile and beautiful regions desolated, and others subjected +to the peculiar slave-system of the East India +Company. The extension of British dominion and the +accumulation of wealth in British hands, instead of the +spread of Christianity and the development of civilization, +mark all the measures of the Company.</p> + +<p class="i1">William Howitt, one of the ablest as well as the most +democratic writers of England, thus confirms the statements +made above:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The East India Company exists by monopolies of the land, of +opium, and of salt. By their narrow, greedy, and purblind management +of these resources, they have contrived to reduce that +once affluent country to the uttermost depths of poverty and +pauperism. The people starve and perish in famine every now +and then by half a million at a time. One-third of that superb +peninsula is reduced to waste and jungle. While other colonies +pay from twenty to thirty shillings per head of revenue, India +yields only four shillings per head. The income of the government +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span> +at the last renewal of the charter was <i>twenty millions</i>; it is +now reduced to about <i>seventeen millions</i>; and even to raise this, +they have been obliged to double the tax on salt. The debt was +<i>forty millions</i>; it is now said to be augmented by constant war, +and the payment of the dividends, which, whatever the real proceeds, +are always kept up to the usual height, to <i>seventy millions</i>. +This is a state of things which cannot last. It is a grand march +toward financial inanition. It threatens, if not arrested by the +voice of the British people, the certain and no very distant loss +of India.</p> + +<p class="i1">"We have some glimpses of the treatment of the people in the +collection of the land-tax, as it is called, but really the rent. The +government claims not the mere right of governing, but, as conquerors, +the fee-simple of the land. Over the greater part of +India there are no real freeholders. The land is the Company's, +and they collect, not a tax, but a rent. They have their collectors +all over India, who go and say as the crops stand, 'We shall take +so much of this.' It is seldom less than one-half—it is more commonly +sixty, seventy, and eighty per cent! This is killing the +goose to come at the golden egg. It drives the people to despair; +they run away and leave the land to become jungle; they perish +by famine in thousands and tens of thousands.</p> + +<p class="i1">"This is why no capitalists dare to settle and grow for us +cotton, or manufacture for us sugar. There is no security—no +fixity of taxation. It is one wholesale system of arbitrary plunder, +such as none but a conquered country in the first violence of +victorious license ever was subjected to. But this system has +here continued more than a generation; the country is reduced +by it to a fatal condition—the only wonder is that we yet retain +it at all.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The same system is pursued in the opium monopoly. The finest +lands are taken for the cultivation of the poppy; the government +give the natives what they please for the opium, often about as +many shillings as they get paid for it guineas per pound, and +ship it off to curse China with it. 'In India,' says a writer in +the Chinese Repository, 'the extent of territory occupied with the +poppy, and the amount of population engaged in its cultivation +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span> +and the preparation of opium, are far greater than in any other +part of the world.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Turkey is said to produce only 2000 chests of opium annually; +India produces 40,000 of 134 lbs. each, and yielding a revenue of +about £4,000,000 sterling.</p> + +<p class="i1">"But perhaps worse than all is the salt monopoly. It is well +known that the people of India are a vegetable diet people. Boiled +rice is their chief food, and salt is an absolute necessary of life. +With a vegetable diet in that hot climate, without plenty of salt, +putrid diseases and rapid mortality are inevitable. Nature, or +Providence, has therefore given salt in abundance. The sea +throws it up already crystallized in many places; in others it is +prepared by evaporation; but the Company steps in and imposes +<i>two hundred per cent.</i> on this indispensable article, and guards it +by such penalties that the native dare not stoop to gather it when +it lies at his feet. The consequence is that mortality prevails, to +a terrific extent often, among the population. Officers of government +are employed to destroy the salt naturally formed; and +government determines how much salt shall be annually consumed.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Now, let the people of England mark one thing. <i>The cholera +originates in the East.</i> It has visited us once, and is on its march +once more toward us. We have heard through the newspapers +of its arrival in Syria, in Turkey, in Russia, at Vienna. In a few +months it will probably be again among us.</p> + +<p class="i1">"<i>Has any one yet imagined that this scourge may possibly be the +instrument of Divine retribution for our crimes and cruelties?</i> Has +any one imagined that we have any thing to do with the creation +of this terrible pestilence? Yet there is little, there is scarcely +the least doubt, that this awful instrument of death is occasioned +by this very monopoly of salt—that it is the direct work of the +four-and-twenty men in Leadenhall-street. The cholera is found +to arise in the very centre of India. It commences in the midst +of this swarming population, which subsists on vegetables, and +which is deprived by the British government of the necessary +salt! In that hot climate it acquires a deadly strength—thousands +perish by it as by the stroke of lightning, and it hence +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span> +radiates over the globe, travelling at the speed of a horse in full +gallop. Thus it is that God visits our deeds upon our heads.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Such is a brief glance at the mal-administration, the abuse, and +the murderous treatment of India, permitted by great and Christian +England to a knot of mere money-making traders. We commit +the lives and happiness of one hundred and fifty millions of souls—the +well-being, and probably the chance of retention, of one of the +finest countries in the world, and the comfort and prosperity of +every human creature in Great Britain, to the hands of those who +are only, from day to day, grasping at the vitals of this glorious +Eastern region to increase their dividends. This is bad enough, +but this is not all. As if we had given them a charter in the most +effectual manner to damage our dominions and blast all our prospects +of trade, we have allowed these four-and-twenty men of +Leadenhall-street not only to cripple India, but to exasperate +and, as far as possible, close China against us. Two millions of +people in India and three millions of people in China—all waiting +for our manufactures, all capable of sending us the comforts +and necessaries that we need—it would seem that to us, a nation +especially devoted to trade, as if Providence had opened all the gorgeous +and populous East to employ and to enrich us. One would +have thought that every care and anxiety would have been aroused +to put ourselves on the best footing with this swarming region. +It has been the last thing thought of.</p> + +<p class="i1">"The men of Leadenhall-street have been permitted, after having +paralyzed India, to send to China not the articles that the Chinese +wanted, but the very thing of all others that its authorities abhorred—that +is, opium.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It is well known with what assiduity these traders for years +thrust this deadly drug into the ports of China; or it may be +known from 'Medhurst's China,' from 'Thelwall's Iniquities +of the Opium Trade,' from 'Montgomery Martin's Opium in +China,' and various other works. It is well known what horrors, +crimes, ruin of families, and destruction of individuals the rage +of opium-smoking introduced among the millions of the Celestial +Empire. Every horror, every species of reckless desperation, +social depravity, and sensual crime, spread from the practice and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span> +overran China as a plague. The rulers attempted to stop the evil +by every means in their power. They enacted the severest +punishments for the sale of it. These did not avail. They augmented +the punishment to death. Without a stop to it the whole +framework of society threatened to go to pieces. 'Opium,' says +the Imperial edict itself, 'coming from the distant regions of barbarians, +has pervaded the country with its baneful influence.' The +opium-smoker would steal, sell his property, his children, the +mother of his children, and finally commit murder for it. The +most ghastly spectacles were everywhere seen; instead of healthy +and happy men, the most repulsive scenes. 'I visited one of the +opium-houses,' said an individual quoted by Sir Robert Inglis, in +the House of Commons, in 1843, 'and shall I tell you what I saw +in this antechamber of hell? I thought it impossible to find anything +worse than the results of drinking ardent spirits; but I have +succeeded in finding something far worse. I saw Malays, Chinese, +men and women, old and young, in one mass, in one common +herd, wallowing in their filth, beastly, sensual, devilish, and this +under the eyes of a Christian government.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"They were these abominations and horrors that the Emperor +of China determined to arrest. They were these which our East +India Company determined to perpetuate for this base gain. +When the emperor was asked to license the sale of opium, as he +could not effect its exclusion, and thus make a profit of it, what was +his reply? '<i>It is true I cannot prevent the introduction of the flowing +poison. Gain-seeking and corrupt men will, for profit and sensuality, +defeat my wishes, but nothing will induce me to derive a +benefit from the vice and misery of my people.</i>'</p> + +<p class="i1">"These were the sentiments of the Chinese monarch; what was +the conduct of the so-called Christian Englishmen? They determined +to go on poisoning and demoralizing China, till they provoked +the government to war, and then massacred the people to +compel the continuance of the sale of opium."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">Howitt evidently has as ardent a sympathy for those +who have suffered from the tyranny of British rule as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span> +Edmund Burke himself. The wholesale degradation of +the Hindoos, which has resulted from the measures +of the East India Company, calls loudly indeed for the +denunciations of indignant humanity. The crime must +have its punishment. The ill-gotten gains of the Company +should be seized to carry out an ameliorating +policy, and all concerned in enforcing the system of +oppression should be taught that justice is not to be +wounded with impunity.</p> + +<p class="i1">The burdens imposed upon the Hindoos are precisely +of the character and extent of those that have reduced +Ireland to poverty and her people to slavery. Besides +the enormous rents, which are sufficient of themselves +to dishearten the tillers of the soil, the British authorities +seem to have exhausted invention in devising taxes. +So dear a price to live was never paid by any people +except the Irish. What remains to the cultivator when +the rent of the land and almost forty different taxes +are paid?</p> + +<p class="i1">Those Hindoos who wish to employ capital or labour +in any other way than in cultivation of land are deterred +by the formidable array of taxation. The chief taxes +are styled the Veesabuddy, or tax on merchants, +traders, and shopkeepers; the Mohturfa, or tax on +weavers, carpenters, stonecutters, and other mechanical +trades; and the Bazeebab, consisting of smaller taxes +annually rented out to the highest bidder. The proprietor +of the Bazeebab is thus constituted a petty chieftain, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span> +with power to exact fees at marriages and religious +ceremonies; to inquire into and fine the misconduct of +females in families, and other misdemeanours—in fact, +petty tyrants, who can at all times allege engagements +to the government to justify extortion.<a name="FNanchor_113_113" id="FNanchor_113_113"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> These proprietors +are the worst kind of slaveholders.</p> + +<p class="i1">The mode of settling the Mohturfa on looms is remarkable +for the precision of its exaction. Every +circumstance of the weaver's family is considered; the +number of days which he devotes to his loom, the number +of his children, the assistance which he receives +from them, and the number and quality of the pieces +which he can produce in a year; so that, let him exert +himself as he will, his industry will always be taxed to +the highest degree.<a name="FNanchor_114_114" id="FNanchor_114_114"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> This method is so detailed that +the servants of the government cannot enter into it, and +the assessment of the tax is therefore left to the heads +of the villages. It is impossible for a weaver to know +what he is to pay to the government for being allowed +to carry on his business till the yearly demand is made. +If he has worked hard, and turned out one or two pieces +of cloth more than he did the year before, his tax is increased. +The more industrious he is the more he is +forced to pay.</p> + +<p class="i1">The tax-gatherers are thorough inquisitors. According +to Rikards, upward of seventy different kinds of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span> +buildings—the houses, shops, or warehouses of different +castes and professions—were ordered to be entered into +the survey accounts; besides the following implements +of professions, which were usually assessed to the public +revenue, viz.: "Oil-mills, iron manufactory, toddy-drawer's +stills, potter's kiln, washerman's stone, goldsmith's +tools, sawyer's saw, toddy-drawer's knives, +fishing-nets, barber's hones, blacksmith's anvils, pack-bullocks, +cocoa-nut safe, small fishing-boats, cotton-beater's +bow, carpenter's tools, large fishing-boats, +looms, salt-storehouses. If a landlord objects to the +assessment on trees, as old and past bearing, they are, +one and all, ordered to be cut down—a measure as ridiculous +as unjust—as it not only inflicts injury upon +the landlord, but takes away the chance of future profit +for the government. Mr. Rikards bears witness, as a +collector of Malabar, that lands and produce were +sometimes inserted in the survey account which absolutely +did not exist, while other lands were assessed to +the revenue at more than their actual produce. From +all this, it is obvious that the Hindoo labourer or artisan +is the slave of the tax-collector, who, moreover, has +no interest in the life of his victim.</p> + +<p class="i1">Labour being almost "dirt cheap" in India, whenever +speculating companies of Englishmen wish to carry out +any particular scheme for which labourers are required, +they hire a number of Hindoo Coolies, induce them to +visit any port of the country, and treat them abominably, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span> +knowing that the poor wretches have no protection. +The operations of the Assam Tea Company +illustrate this practice:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"An inconsiderate expenditure of capital placed the Assam Tea +Company in great jeopardy, and at one time it was feared the +scheme would be abandoned. The number of managers and assistants +appointed by the Assam Company to carry on their affairs +and superintend their tea gardens, on large salaries, was quite +unnecessary; one or two experienced European superintendents +to direct the native establishment would have answered every purpose. +A vast number of Coolies (or labourers) were induced to +proceed to Upper Assam to cultivate the gardens; but bad arrangements +having been made to supply them with proper, wholesome +food, many were seized with sickness. On their arrival at +the tea-plantations, in the midst of high and dense tree jungle, +numbers absconded, and others met an untimely end. The rice +served out to the Coolies from the Assam Tea Company's store-rooms, +was so bad as not to be fit to be given to elephants, much +less to human beings. The loss of these labourers, who had been +conveyed to Upper Assam at a great expense, deprived the company +of the means of cultivating so great an extent of country as +would otherwise have been insured; for the scanty population of +Upper Assam offered no means of replacing the deficiency of +hands. Nor was the improvidence of the company in respect to +labourers the only instance of their mismanagement. Although +the company must have known that they had no real use or necessity +for a steamer, a huge vessel was nevertheless purchased, and +frequently sent up and down the Burrampooter river from Calcutta; +carrying little else than a few thousand rupees for the +payment of their establishment in Upper Assam, which might +have been transmitted through native bankers, and have saved +the company a most lavish and unprofitable expenditure of +capital."<a name="FNanchor_115_115" id="FNanchor_115_115"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a></p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">Ay, and the expense is all that is thought worthy of +consideration. The miserable victims to the measures +of the company might perish like brutes without being +even pitied.</p> + +<p class="i1">On the verge of starvation, as so many of the Hindoo +labourers generally are, it does not excite surprise that +they are very ready to listen to the offers of those who +are engaged in the "Cooley slave-trade." In addition +to the astounding facts given by us in the previous chapter, +in regard to this traffic in men, we quote the following +from the London Spectator of October, 1838:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"Under Lord Glenelg's patronage, the Eastern slave-trade prospers +exceedingly. The traffic in Hill Coolies promises to become +one of the most extensive under the British flag. A cargo arrived +in Berbice about the beginning of May, in prime condition: and +the Berbice Advertiser, one of the most respectable of the West +India journals, states, that out of 289, conveyed in the Whitby, +only eight died on the passage, and very few were ill. Only one +circumstance was wanting to make them the happiest of human(?) +beings—only eight women were sent as companions for the 280 +men; and the deficiency of females was the more to be regretted +because it was 'probable they would be shunned by the negroes +from jealousy and speaking a different language.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"The same newspaper contains a very curious document respecting +the Hill Cooley traffic. It is a circular letter, dated the +8th January, 1838, from Henley, Dowson, and Bethel, of Calcutta, +the agents most extensively engaged in the shipment of labourers +from India to the Mauritius and British Guiana. These gentlemen +thus state their claims to preference over other houses in the +same business:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'We have within the last two years procured and shipped +upward of 5000 free agricultural labourers for our friends at Mauritius; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span> +and, from the circumstance of nearly 500 of the number +being employed on estates in which we possess a direct interest, +we can assure you that a happier and more contented labouring +population is seldom to be met with in any part of the world, +than the Dhargas or mountain tribes sent from this vast country.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"Five thousand within two years to the Mauritius alone! This +is pretty well, considering that the trade is in its infancy. As to +the statement of the happiness and contentment of the labourers, +rather more impartial evidence than the good word of the exporters +of the commodity advertised would be desirable. If +Englishmen could fancy themselves Hill Coolies for an instant—landed +in Berbice, in the proportion of 280 men to 8 of the gentler +sex, 'speaking a different language,' and shunned by the very +negroes—we are inclined to think they would not, even in that +imaginary and momentary view, conceit themselves to be among +the happiest of mankind.</p> + +<p class="i1">"We proceed with the Calcutta circular:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The labourers hitherto procured by us have cost their employers, +<i>landed at the Mauritius</i>, about one hundred rupees (or +10<i>l.</i> sterling) per man; which sum comprises six months' advance +of wages, provisions and water for the voyage, clothing, commission, +passage, insurance, and all incidental charges.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"'The expense attending the shipment of Indian labourers to +the West India Colonies would be necessarily augmented—firstly, +by the higher rate of passage-money, and the increased quantity +of provisions and water; and, secondly, from the necessity of +making arrangements, indispensable to the health and comfort +of native passengers, on a voyage of so long a duration, in the +course of which they would be exposed to great vicissitude of +climate.</p> + +<p class="i1">"'On making ample allowance for these charges, we do not +apprehend that a labourer, sent direct from this country to Demerara, +and engaged to work on your estates for a period of five +consecutive years, would cost, landed there, above two hundred +and ten rupees, or 21<i>l.</i> sterling.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"This sum of 210 rupees includes <i>six months' wages</i>—at what +rate does the reader suppose? Why, five rupees, or ten shillings +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span> +sterling a month—half-a-crown a week—in Demerara! The passage +is 10<i>l.</i>, and the insurance 12<i>s.</i>; for they are insured at so +much a head, like pigs or sheep.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It is manifest that after their arrival in Demerara, the Indians +will not, unless on compulsion, work for five years at the rate of +10<i>s.</i> a month, while the negroes receive much higher wages. +They are therefore placed under strict control, and are just as +much slaves as the Redemptioners, whom the virtuous Quakers +inveigled into Pennsylvania a century or more ago. The Indians +bind themselves to work in town or country, wherever their consignee +or master may choose to employ them. One of the articles +of their agreement is this:—</p> + +<p class="i1">"'In order that the undersigned natives of India may be fully +aware of the engagement they undertake, it is hereby notified, +that they will be required to do <i>all such work as the object for +which they are engaged necessitates</i>; and that, as labourers attached +to an estate, they will be required to clear forest and extract timber, +carry manure, dig and prepare land for planting, also to take +charge of horses, mules, and cattle of every description; <i>in short, +to do all such work as an estate for the cultivation of sugar-cane and +the manufacture of sugar demands</i>, or any branch of agriculture to +which they may be destined.'</p> + +<p class="i1">"In case of disobedience or misconduct—that is, at the caprice +of the master—they may be 'degraded,' and sent back at their +own charge to Calcutta. They are to receive no wages during +illness; and a rupee a month is to be deducted from their wages—thereby +reducing them to 2<i>s.</i> a week—as an indemnity-fund for +the cost of sending them back. What security there is for the +kind treatment of the labourers does not appear: there is nothing +in the contract but a promise to act equitably.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Now, in what respect do these men differ in condition from +negro slaves, except very much for the worse? They must be +more helpless than the negroes—if for no other reason, because +of their ignorance of the language their masters use. They will +not, for a long period certainly, be formidable from their numbers. +How easily may even the miserable terms of the contract with +their employers be evaded! Suppose the Indian works steadily +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span> +for four years, it may suit his master to describe him as refractory +and idle during the fifth, and then he will be sent back at +his own cost; and the whole of his earnings may be expended in +paying for his passage to Calcutta, where, after all, he is a long +way from home.</p> + +<p class="i1">"It is impossible to contemplate without pain the inevitable +lot of these helpless beings; but the conduct of the government, +which could sanction the infamous commerce of which the Hill +Cooley will be the victims, while professing all the while such a +holy horror of dealing in negroes, should rouse general indignation.</p> + +<p class="i1">Is it only a certain shade of black, and a peculiar physical +conformation, which excites the compassion of the Anti-Slavery +people? If it is cruelty, oppression, and fraud which they abhor +and desire to prevent, then let them renew their agitation in +behalf of the kidnapped natives of India, now suffering, probably +more acutely, all that made the lot of the negro a theme for eloquence +and a field for Christian philanthropy."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">This is written in the right spirit. The trade described +has increased to an extent which calls for the +interference of some humane power. Should the British +government continue to sanction the traffic, it must stand +responsible for a national crime.</p> + +<p class="i1">Oppressive and violent as the British dominion in +India undoubtedly is, the means devised to extend it +are even more worthy of strong condemnation. The +government fixes its eyes upon a certain province, where +the people are enjoying peace and plenty, and determines +to get possession of it. The Romans themselves +were not more fertile in pretences for forcible seizure +of territory than these British plunderers. They quickly +hunt up a pretender to the throne, support his claims +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span> +with a powerful army, make him their complete tool, +dethrone the lawful sovereign, and extend their authority +over the country. The course pursued toward +Afghanistan in 1838 illustrates this outrageous violation +of national rights.</p> + +<p class="i1">The following account of the origin and progress of +the Afghanistan war is given by an English writer in the +Penny Magazine:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"In 1747, Ahmeed Shah, an officer of an Afghan troop in the +service of Persia, refounded the Afghan monarchy, which was +maintained until the death of his successor in 1793. Ahmeed +was of the Douranee tribe, and the limits over which his sway +extended is spoken of as the Douranee empire. Four of the sons +of Ahmeed's successor disputed, and in turn possessed, the throne; +and during this civil war several of the principal chiefs threw off +their allegiance, and the Douranee empire ceased to exist, but +was split up into the chiefships of Candahar, Herat, Caboul, and +Peshawur. Herat afterward became a dependency of Persia, and +Shah Shooja ool Moolook, the chief of Peshawur, lost his power +after having enjoyed it for about six years. Dost Mohammed +Kahn, the chief of Caboul, according to the testimony of the late +Sir Alexander Burnes, writing in 1832, governed his territory +with great judgment, improved its internal administration and +resources, and became the most powerful chief in Afghanistan. +Shah Shooja was for many years a fugitive and a pensioner of +the British government. He made one unsuccessful attempt to +regain his territory, but Peshawur eventually became a tributary +to the ruler of the Punjab. Such was the state of Afghanistan +in 1836.</p> + +<p class="i1">"In the above year the Anglo-Indian government complained +that Dost Mohammed Khan, chief of Caboul, had engaged in +schemes of aggrandizement which threatened the stability of the +British frontier in India; and Sir Alexander Burnes, who was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span> +sent with authority to represent to him the light in which his +proceedings were viewed, was compelled to leave Caboul without +having effected any change in his conduct. The siege of Herat, +and the support which both Dost Mohammed and his brother, the +chief of Candahar, gave to the designs of Persia in Afghanistan, +the latter chief especially openly assisting the operations against +Herat, created fresh alarm in the Anglo-Indian government as to +the security of our frontier. Several minor chiefs also avowed +their attachment to the Persians. As our policy, instead of hostility, +required an ally capable of resisting aggression on the +western frontier of India, the Governor-general, from whose official +papers we take these statements, 'was satisfied,' after serious +and mature deliberation, 'that a pressing necessity, as well as +every consideration of policy and justice, warranted us in espousing +the cause of Shah Shooja ool Moolk;' and it was determined +to place him on the throne. According to the Governor-general, +speaking from the best authority, the testimony as to Shah Shooja's +popularity was unanimous. In June, 1838, the late Sir William +Macnaghten formed a tripartite treaty with the ruler of the Punjab +and Shah Shooja; the object of which was to restore the latter +to the throne of his ancestors. This policy it was conceived would +conduce to the general freedom and security of commerce, the +restoration of tranquillity upon the most important frontier of +India, and the erection of a lasting barrier against hostile intrigue +and encroachment; and, while British influence would +thus gain its proper footing among the nations of Central Asia, +the prosperity of the Afghan people would be promoted.</p> + +<p class="i1">"Troops were despatched from the Presidencies of Bengal and +Bombay to co-operate with the contingents raised by the Shah +and our other ally, the united force being intended to act together +under the name of the 'Army of the Indus.' After a march of +extraordinary length, through countries which had never before +been traversed by British troops, and defiles which are the most +difficult passes in the world, where no wheeled carriage had ever +been, and where it was necessary for the engineers in many places +to construct roads before the baggage could proceed, the combined +forces from Bengal and Bombay reached Candahar in May, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span> +1839. According to the official accounts, the population were +enthusiastic in welcoming the return of Shah Shooja. The next +step was to advance toward Ghiznee and Caboul. On the 23d +July, the strong and important fortress and citadel of Ghiznee, +regarded throughout Asia as impregnable, was taken in two +hours by blowing up the Caboul gate. The army had only been +forty-eight hours before the place. An 'explosion party' carried +three hundred pounds of gunpowder in twelve sand-bags, with a +hose seventy-two feet long, the train was laid and fired, the party +having just time to reach a tolerable shelter from the effects of +the concussion, though one of the officers was injured by its force. +On the 7th of August the army entered Caboul. Dost Mohammed +had recalled his son Mohammed Akhbar from Jellalabad with +the troops guarding the Khyber Pass, and their united forces +amounted to thirteen thousand men; but these troops refused to +advance, and Dost Mohammed was obliged to take precipitate +fight, accompanied only by a small number of horsemen. Shah +Shooja made a triumphant entry into Caboul, and the troops of +Dost Mohammed tendered their allegiance to him. The official +accounts state that in his progress toward Caboul he was joined +by every person of rank and influence in the country. As the +tribes in the Bolan Pass committed many outrages and murders +on the followers of the army of the Indus, at the instigation of +their chief, the Khan of Khelat, his principal town (Khelat) was +taken on the 13th of November, 1839. The political objects of the +expedition had now apparently been obtained. The hostile chiefs +of Caboul and Candahar were replaced by a friendly monarch. +On the side of Scinde and Herat, British alliance and protection +were courted. All this had been accomplished in a few months, +but at an expense said to exceed three millions sterling."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The <i>expense</i> of national outrage is only of importance +to the sordid and unprincipled men who conceived and +superintended the Afghanistan expedition. In the first +part of the above extract, the writer places the British +government in the position of one who strikes in self-defence. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span> +It was informed that Dost Mohammed entertained +schemes of invasion dangerous to the British +supremacy—informed by the exiled enemy of the chief +of Caboul. The information was seasonable and exceedingly +useful. Straightway a treaty was formed, by +which the British agreed to place their tool for the +enslavement of the Afghans upon the throne from +which he had been driven. Further on, it is said, that +when Shah Sooja appeared in Afghanistan he was +joined by every person of rank and influence in the +country. Just so; and the followers and supporters +of Dost Mohammed nearly all submitted to the superior +army of the British general. But two years afterward, +the strength of the patriotic party was seen, when +Caboul rose against Shah Sooja, drove him again from +the throne, and defeated and massacred a considerable +British garrison. Shah Sooja was murdered soon afterward. +But the British continued the war against the +Afghans, with the object of reducing them to the same +slavery under which the remainder of Hindostan was +groaning. The violation of national rights, the massacre +of thousands, and the enslavement of millions +were the glorious aims of British policy in the Afghan +expedition. The policy then carried out has been more +fully illustrated since that period. Whenever a territory +was thought desirable by the government, neither +national rights, the principles of justice and humanity, +nor even the common right of property in individuals +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span> +has been respected. Wealth has been an object for +the attainment of which plunder and massacre were not +considered unworthy means.</p> + +<p class="i1">Said Mr. John Bright, the radical reformer of Manchester, +in a speech delivered in the House of Commons:—"It +cannot be too universally known that the +cultivators of the soil (in India) are in a very unsatisfactory +condition; that they are, in truth, in a condition +of almost extreme and universal poverty. All +testimony concurred upon that point. He would call +the attention of the House to the statement of a celebrated +native of India, the Rajah Rammohun Roy, who, +about twenty years ago, published a pamphlet in London, +in which he pointed out the ruinous effects of the +Zemindaree system, and the oppressions experienced by +the ryots in the Presidencies of Bombay and Madras. +After describing the state of affairs generally, he added, +'Such was the melancholy condition of the agricultural +labourers, that it always gave him the greatest pain to +allude to it.' Three years afterward, Mr. Shore, who +was a judge in India, published a work which was considered +as a standard work till now, and he stated 'that +the British government was not regarded in a favourable +light by the native population of India—that a +system of taxation and extortion was carried on unparalleled +in the annals of any country.'"</p> + +<p class="i1">From all quarters we receive unimpeachable evidence +that the locust system has performed its devouring work +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span> +on the broadest scale in India; and that the Hindoos +are the victims of conquerors, slower, indeed, in their +movements, than Tamerlane or Genghis Khan, but more +destructive and more criminal than either of those great +barbarian invaders.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span></p> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ac">THE CRIME AND THE DUTY OF THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT.</p> + + +<p class="i1"><span class="sc">It</span> remains to sum up the charges against the English +oligarchy, and to point out the path which justice, humanity, +and the age require the government to pursue. +In so doing, we shall go no farther than the facts previously +adduced will afford us sure ground, nor speak +more harshly than our duty to our oppressed fellow-men +will demand. We pity the criminal even while we pass +sentence upon her.</p> + +<p class="i1">A government originating in, and suited for, a barbarous +age must necessarily be unfit for one enjoying the +meridian of civilization. The arrangement of lord and +serf was appropriate to the period when war was regarded +as the chief employment of mankind, and when more +respect was paid to the kind of blood flowing in a man's +veins than to his greatness or generosity of soul. But, +in the nineteenth century, war is regarded as an evil to +be avoided as long as possible. Peace is the rule, and +conflict the exception. Christianity has taught us, also, +that the good and the great in heart and mind—wherever +born, wherever bred—are the true nobility of our +race. It is the sin of the English government that it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span> +works against the bright influence of the times and +throws the gloomy shadow of feudalism over some of the +fairest regions of the earth. It legislates for the age +of William the Conqueror instead of the reign of +Victoria.</p> + +<p class="i1">The few for hereditary luxury and dominion, the +many for hereditary misery and slavery, is the grand +fundamental principle of the English system. For every +gorgeous palace there are a thousand hovels, where even +beasts should not be forced to dwell. For every lord +who spends his days in drinking, gambling, hunting, +horse-racing, and indulging himself in all the luxuries +that money can purchase, a thousand persons, at +least, must toil day and night to obtain the most wretched +subsistence. In no country are the few richer than in +England, and in no country are the masses more fearfully +wretched. The great bulk of the property of +England, both civil and ecclesiastical, is in the grasp of +the aristocracy. All offices of church and state, yielding +any considerable emolument, are monopolized by the +lords and their nominees. The masses earn—the lords +spend. The lords have all the property, but the masses +pay all the taxes, and slave and starve that the taxes +may be paid.</p> + +<p class="i1">Without such a system, is it possible that there could +be millions of acres of good land lying waste, and millions +of paupers who dare not cultivate it?—that the +workhouses could be crowded—that men, women, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491]</a></span> +children could be driven to all kinds of work, and yet +by the most exhausting toil not earn enough to enable +them to live decently and comfortably—that honest and +industrious people could starve by the wayside, or die +of disease engendered in dirty hovels—that vice and +crime could be practised to an appalling extent—that +whole villages could be swept away and the poor labourers +either driven into the crowded cities, or to a +distant land, far from kindred and friends?</p> + +<p class="i1">The aristocrats of England are the most extensive +slaveholders in the world. In England, Wales, Scotland, +and Ireland, they have the entire labouring mass +for their slaves—men, women, and children being doomed +to the most grinding toil to enable their masters to live +in luxurious ease. In India and the other colonies they +have treated the natives as the conquered were treated +in the Middle Ages. They have drained their resources, +oppressed them in every way, and disposed of tribes and +nations as if they had been dealing with cattle. Add +the slaves of India to the slaves of the United Kingdom, +and we may count them by tens of millions. These +slaves are not naturally inferior to their masters. They +belong to races fertile in great and good men and +women. Poets, artists, philosophers, historians, statesmen, +and warriors of the first magnitude in genius have +sprung from these down-trodden people. They have +fully proved themselves capable of enjoying the sweets +of freedom. They remain slaves because their masters +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492]</a></span> +find it profitable, and know how to cozen and bully them +into submission.</p> + +<p class="i1">The following description of France before the great +revolution of 1789, by M. Thiers, is strikingly applicable +to the condition of Great Britain at the present +day:—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The condition of the country, both political and economical, +was intolerable. There was nothing but privilege—privilege vested +in individuals, in classes, in towns, in provinces, and even in +trades and professions. Every thing contributed to check industry +and the natural genius of man. All the dignities of the state, +civil, ecclesiastical, and military, were exclusively reserved to certain +individuals. No man could take up a profession without +certain titles and the compliance with certain pecuniary conditions. +Even the favours of the crown were converted into family +property, so that the king could scarcely exercise his own judgment, +or give any preference. Almost the only liberty left to the +sovereign was that of making pecuniary gifts, and he had been +reduced to the necessity of disputing with the Duke of Coigny for +the abolition of a useless place. Every thing, then, was made immovable +property in the hands of a few, and everywhere these few +resisted the many who had been despoiled. The burdens of the +state weighed on one class only. The noblesse and the clergy +possessed about two-thirds of the landed property; the other +third, possessed by the people, paid taxes to the king, a long list of +feudal <i>droits</i> to the noblesse, tithes to the clergy, and had, moreover, +to support the devastations committed by noble sportsmen and +their game. The taxes upon consumption pressed upon the great +multitude, and consequently on the people. The collection of +these imposts was managed in an unfair and irritating manner; +the lords of the soil left long arrears with impunity, but the people, +upon any delay in payment, were harshly treated, arrested, +and condemned to pay in their persons, in default of money to +produce. The people, therefore, nourished with their labour and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493]</a></span> +defended with their blood the higher classes of society, without +being able to procure a comfortable subsistence for themselves. +The townspeople, a body of citizens, industrious, educated, less +miserable than the people, could nevertheless obtain none of the +advantages to which they had a right to aspire, seeing that it was +their industry that nourished and their talents that adorned the +kingdom."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">The elements of revolution are all to be found in +Great Britain. A Mirabeau, with dauntless will and +stormy eloquence, could use them with tremendous +effect. Yet the giant of the people does not raise his +voice to plead the cause of the oppressed, and to awaken +that irresistible enthusiasm which would sweep away the +pampered aristocracy.</p> + +<p class="i1">The armorial escutcheons of the aristocracy are fearfully +significant of its character. Says John Hampden, +Jun.:<a name="FNanchor_116_116" id="FNanchor_116_116"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a>—</p> + +<div class="bq"> + +<p class="i1">"The whole emblazonment of aristocracy is one manifesto of +savage barbarism, brute force, and propensity to robbery and plunder. +What are these objects on their shields? Daggers, swords, +lions' heads, dogs' heads, arrow-heads, boars' heads, cannon balls, +clubs, with a medley of stars, moons, and unmeaning figures. +What are the crests of these arms? Lascivious goats, rampant +lions, fiery dragons, and griffins gone crazed: bulls' heads, block-heads, +arms with uplifted daggers, beasts with daggers, and vultures +tearing up helpless birds. What, again, are the supporters +of these shields? What are the emblems of the powers by which +they are maintained and upheld? The demonstration is deeply +significant. They are the most singular assemblage of all that is +fierce, savage, rampageous, villanous, lurking, treacherous, blood-thirsty, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494]</a></span> +cruel, and bestial in bestial natures. They are infuriated +lions, boars, and tigers; they are raging bulls, filthy goats, horrid +hyenas, snarling dogs, drunken bears, and mad rams; they are +foxes, wolves, panthers, every thing that is creeping, sneaking, +thievish, and perfidious. Nay, nature cannot furnish emblems +extensive enough, and so start up to our astonished sight the most +hideous shapes of fiendlike dragons and griffins, black, blasted as +by infernal fires; the most fuliginous of monsters; and if the human +shape is assumed for the guardians and supporters of aristocracy, +they are wild and savage men, armed with clubs and grim +with hair, scowling brute defiance, and seeming ready to knock +down any man at the command of their lords. Ay, the very birds +of prey are called in; and eagles, vultures, cormorants, in most +expressive attitudes, with most ludicrous embellishments of +crowned heads, collared necks, escutcheoned sides, and with +hoisted wings and beaks of open and devouring wrath, proclaim +the same great truth, that aristocracy is of the class of what the +Germans call <i>Raub-thieren</i>, or robber-beasts—in our vernacular, +<i>beasts of prey</i>."</p></div> + +<p class="i1">And the character thus published to the world has +been acted out to the full from the days of the bastard +Duke of Normandy and his horde of ruffians to the +time of the "Iron Duke" and his associates in title and +plunder. The hyenas and vultures have never been +satisfied.</p> + +<p class="i1">The crime of England lies in maintaining the slavery +of a barbarous age in the middle of the nineteenth century; +in keeping her slaves in physical misery, mental +darkness, moral depravity, and heathenism; in carrying +fire and sword into some of the loveliest regions of +the earth, in order to gratify that thirst for wealth and +dominion ever characteristic of an aristocracy; in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495]</a></span> +forcing her slaves in India to cultivate poison, and her +weak neighbours of China to buy it; in plundering and +oppressing the people of all her colonies; in concentrating +the wealth of the United Kingdom and the dependencies +in the purses of a few persons, and thus +dooming all others beneath her iron rule to constant, +exhausting, and unrewarded toil! We arraign her before +the tribunal of justice and humanity, as the most +powerful and destructive of tyrannies; as the author +of Ireland's miseries, and a course of action toward +that island compared with which the dismemberment of +Poland was merciful; as the remorseless conqueror of +the Hindoos; as a government so oppressive that her +people are flying by thousands to the shores of America +to escape its inflictions! Though most criminals plead +"not guilty," she cannot have the front to do so! The +general judgment of civilized mankind has long ago +pronounced a verdict of conviction.</p> + +<p class="i1">Yet, guilty as is the English oligarchy, certain of its +members have taken to lecturing the world about the +duties of Christians and philanthropists. This, we suppose, +in charity, is done upon the principle given by +Hamlet to his mother—</p> + +<p class="ac">"Assume a virtue if you have it not."</p> + +<p class="i1">But a loftier authority than Shakspeare tells us to +remove the beam from our own eye before we point to +the mote that is in the eye of a brother. Example, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496]</a></span> +also, is more powerful than precept. Pious exhortations +from a villain are usually disregarded. A +preacher should never have the blood of slaughtered +victims on his hands.</p> + +<p class="i1">We think it not difficult to show that England is the +best friend of slavery, while professing an aversion to +it, and dictating to other governments to strive for its +abolition. At an enormous expense, she maintains +men-of-war upon the coast of Africa, with the object +of suppressing the trade in negro slaves. This expense +her white slaves are taxed to pay; while the men-of-war +have not only not suppressed the slave-trade, but +have doubled its horrors, by compelling the slave-traders +to inflict new tortures upon the negroes they +capture and conceal. In the mean time, the government +is doing all in its power to impoverish and enslave +(for the slavery of a people follows its poverty) the +more intelligent races of the world. England prides +herself upon her efforts to destroy the trade in African +savages and chattel slavery. Her philanthropy is all +black; miserable wretches with pale faces have no +claims upon her assisting hand; and she refuses to +recognise the only kind of slavery by which masters +are necessitated to provide well for their slaves, while +she enforces that system which starves them! England +is the best friend of the most destructive species of +slavery, and has extended it over tens of millions of +human beings.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497]</a></span></p> + +<p class="i1">Justice, humanity, and the age demand the abolition +of this exhausting, famine-breeding, and murderous +system. It is hostile to every principle of right—to +civilization, and to the loving spirit of Christianity. +Starving millions groan beneath the yoke. From the +crowded factories and workshops—from the pestilential +hovels—from the dark and slave-filled coal-pits—from +the populous workhouses—from the vast army of wandering +beggars in England and Scotland—from the +perishing peasantry of Ireland—from the wretched +Hindoos upon the Ganges and the Indus—from the +betrayed Coolies in the West-India Islands—arises the +cry for relief from the plunderers and the oppressors. +"How long, O Lord, how long!"</p> + +<p class="i1">A few thousand persons own the United Kingdom. +They have robbed and reduced to slavery not only +their own countrymen, but millions in other lands. +They continue to rob wherever they find an opportunity. +They spend what their crime has accumulated in all +kinds of vice and dissipation, and rear their children +to the same courses. Money raised for religious purposes +they waste in luxurious living. They trade in +all the offices of church and state. They persecute, +by exclusion, all who do not subscribe to "thirty-nine +articles" which they wish to force upon mankind. In +brief, the oligarchy lies like an incubus upon the empire, +and the people cannot call themselves either free or +happy until the aristocrats be driven from their high +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498]</a></span> +places. Burst, then, the chains, ye countrymen of +Hampden and Vane! Show to the world that the old +fire is not yet quenched! that the spirits of your martyrs +to liberty are yet among you, and their lessons in +your hearts! Obtain your freedom—peaceably, if you +can—<i>but obtain it</i>, for it expands and ennobles the life +of a nation! In the air of liberty alone can a people +enjoy a healthy existence. A day of real freedom is +worth more than years in a dungeon. What have you +to dread? Do you not know your strength? Be +assured, this aristocracy could not stand an hour, were +you resolved against its existence! It would be swept +away as a feather before a hurricane. Do you fear +that much blood would flow in the struggle? Consider +the hundreds of thousands who are crushed out of existence +every year by this aristocracy, and ask yourselves +if it is not better that the system should be over-thrown, +even at the expense of blood, than that it +should continue its destructive career? Had not men +better make an effort to secure freedom and plenty for +their posterity, than starve quietly by the wayside? +These are the questions you should take home to your +hearts. One grand, determined, glorious effort, and +you are free.</p> + +<p class="ml5 smaller">"Hereditary bondsmen, know ye not<br /> +Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow?"</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="footnotes"><h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> + The butties are the men who superintend the conveyance of the + coal from the digger to the pit-shaft.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> + To <i>hurry</i> is to draw or push the coal-cars.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> + Mitchell, Evidence, No. 7; App. pt. i. p. 65, 1. 31.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Ibid. in loco.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Fellows, Report, s. 58; App. + pt. ii. p. 256.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Mitchell, Evidence, No. 99; + App. pt. i. p. 155, 1. 8.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Dr. Mitchell, Report, s. 314; + App. pt. i. p. 39.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Fellows, Evidence, No. 10; + App. pt. ii. p. 266, 1. 10.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Symons, Report, s. 200; App. + pt. i. p. 193.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Wood, Report, s. 36; App. + pt. ii. p. H 7. Also Evidence, Nos. +60, 75, 76.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Kennedy, Report, s. 296; App. + pt. ii. p. 188.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Ibid. s. 304; p. 188.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Austin, Evidence, No. 1; + App. pt. ii. p. 811; i. 12. See also the remarks by Mr. Fletcher on the vicinity of Oldham, + App. pt. ii. s. 59, p. 832.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Mitchell, Report, s. 214; + App. pt. i. p. 143.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Mitchell, Evidence, No. 97; + App. pt. i. p. 154, 1. 19.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Leifchild, Report, s. 72; + App. pt. i. p. 252.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 97; + App. pt. i. p. 587, 1. 39.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Ibid. No. 497, p. 665, 1. 7.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Ibid. No. 504, p. 672, 1. 22.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Symons, Report, s. 22; App. + pt. i. p. 302.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Symons, Evidence, No. 312; + App. pt. i. p. 305, 1. 59.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Franks, Report, App. A, No. 2; + App. pt. i. p. 410, 411.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Franks, Report, s. 85; + App. pt. ii. p. 485.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> Franks, Evidence, No. 144; + App. pt. ii. p. 582, 1. 4.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Ibid. No. 2, p. 503, 1. 21.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> R. W. Jones, Evidence, No. 102; + App. pt. ii. p. 64, 1. 28.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Fellows, Report, s. 45; App. + pt. ii. p. 255.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> Symons, Report, s. 110; + App. pt. i. p. 181.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Symons, Evidence, No. 199; + App. pt. i. p. 279, 1. 3.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Ibid. No. 21; p. 282, 1. 246.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Wood, Evidence, No. 60; App. + pt. ii. p. h 27, 1. 46.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Kennedy, Evidence, No. 30; + App. pt. ii. p. 218, 1. 6.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> Austin, Evidence, No. 7; App. + pt. ii. p. 812. 1. 160.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Ibid. No. 17; p. 815, 1. 53.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 97; + App. pt. i. p. 587, 1. 32.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Leichfield, Evidence, No. 504; + p. 672, 1. 22.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> Ibid. No. 498; p. 665, 1. 50.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> Ibid. No. 496; p. 662, 1. 62.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> Mitchell, Evidence, No. 46; + App. pt. i. p. 81, 1. 47.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> Mitchell, Evidence, No. 77; + p. 113, 1. 6.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> Ibid. No. 81; p. 114, 1. 22.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> Ibid. No. 82; p. 114, 1. 61.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> Fellows, Report, s. 49; + App. pt. ii. p. 256.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> Fellows, Evidence, No. 105; + p. 292, 1. 48.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> Fellows, Evidence, No. 10; + p. 262, 1. 8.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> Symons, Report, s. 209; + App. pt. i. p. 193.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> Wood, Report, s. 42; + App. pt. ii. p. 167.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 499; + App. pt. i. p. 668, 1. 44.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> Ibid. No. 498; p. 665, 1. 52.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> Franks, Report, s. 68; + App. pt. i. p. 396.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> Tancred, Evidence, No. 34; + App. pt. i. p. 371, 1. 58.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> H. H. Jones, Report, s. 83; + App. pt. ii. p. 375.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> H. H. Jones, Evidence, No. 96; + App. pt. ii. p. 407, 1. 51.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> Waring, Evidence, No. 38; + App. pt. ii. p. 25, 1. 57.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> Stewart, Evidence, No. 7; + App. pt. ii. p. 50, 1. 48.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> Fellows, Evidence, No. 84; + App. pt. ii. p. 287, 1. 38.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> Symons, Report, s. 110, + App. pt. i. p. 181.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> Symons, Evidence, No. 221; + App. pt. i. p. 282, 1. 45.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> Ibid. No. 268; p. 292, 1. 51.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> Kennedy, Report, s. 299; + App. pt. ii. p. 188.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> Mitchell, Report, s. 212; + App. pt. i. p. 143.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> Mitchell, Evidence, No. 96; + App. pt. i. p. 153, 1. 57.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> Ibid. No. 97; p. 153, 1. 64.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> Franks, Report, s. 121; + App. pt. i. p. 408.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> Franks, Evidence, No. 273; + App. pt. i. p. 487, 1. 25.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> Franks, Evidence, No. 73; + p. 450, 1. 31.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> Ibid. No. 83; p. 452, 1. 29.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> H. H. Jones, Report, s. 84; + App. pt. ii. p. 375.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> H. H. Jones, Evidence, No. 96; + App. pt. ii. p. 407, 1. 53.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> Ibid. No. 2; p. 378, 1. 35.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> Ibid. No. 3; p. 379, 1. 34.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> Scriven, Report, s. 83; App. + pt. ii. p. 72.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> Symons, Evidence, s. 96; App. + pt. i. p. 187.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> Wood, Evidence, No. 76; App. + pt. ii. p. <i>h</i> 32, 1. 18.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> Symons, Evidence, No. 197; + App. pt. i. p. 277, 1. 68.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_76_76" id="Footnote_76_76"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> Austin, Evidence, No. 9; + App. pt. ii. p. 813, 1. 40.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_77_77" id="Footnote_77_77"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> Scriven, Report, s. 82; + App. pt. ii. p. 72.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_78_78" id="Footnote_78_78"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> Scriven, Evidence, No. 2; + App. pt. ii. p. 101, 1. 33.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_79_79" id="Footnote_79_79"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> Ibid. No. 79, p. 124, 1. 28. + See also Nos. 12, 13, 18, 25.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_80_80" id="Footnote_80_80"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 86; + App. pt. i. p. 583, 1. 27.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_81_81" id="Footnote_81_81"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 201; + p. 610, 1. 52.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_82_82" id="Footnote_82_82"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> Ibid. No. 267, p. 623, 1. 11.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_83_83" id="Footnote_83_83"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> Franks, Evidence, No. 31; + App. pt. ii. p. 510, 1. 49.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_84_84" id="Footnote_84_84"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 385; + App. pt. i. p. 645, 1. 35.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_85_85" id="Footnote_85_85"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> Ibid. No. 375, p. 644, 1. 48.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_86_86" id="Footnote_86_86"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> Tancred, Evidence, No. 9; + App. pt. i. p. 361, 1. 45.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_87_87" id="Footnote_87_87"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> Leifchild, Evidence, No. 376; + App. pt. i. p. 644, 1. 54.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_88_88" id="Footnote_88_88"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> Enclosed for the inspection of + the Central Board. It is entitled, "A Memoir of Robert Blincoe, &c., Manchester." + J. Doherty. 1852.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_89_89" id="Footnote_89_89"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> <i>England and America</i>, + Harpers & Brothers, publishers, 1834.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_90_90" id="Footnote_90_90"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> Every-day Life in London.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_91_91" id="Footnote_91_91"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> This is done at the Model + Prison, Pentonville.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_92_92" id="Footnote_92_92"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> London Daily News.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_93_93" id="Footnote_93_93"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> In order that these men shall + be thus protected, it is necessary for the master <span class="sc">TO NAME THEM</span>, before + they are impressed; this is to be done by going before the mayor or other chief magistrate + of the place, who is to give the master a certificate, in which is contained the names of + the particular men whom he thus nominates; and this certificate will be their protection.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_94_94" id="Footnote_94_94"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> Auctioned.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_95_95" id="Footnote_95_95"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> Household Words.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_96_96" id="Footnote_96_96"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> Charge on the Marlborough + Commission, p. 5. Cited in Lewis's +Irish Disturbances, p. 227.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_97_97" id="Footnote_97_97"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> See the evidence of Mr. Blacker, + House of Commons' Report on the State of Ireland, 1824, p. 75; that of Mr. Griffiths, + <i>ibid.</i> 232; and that of Mr. Blacker, House of Lords' Report, 1824, p. 14.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_98_98" id="Footnote_98_98"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> House of Commons' Committee + on Combinations, 1838. Questions +5872-5876.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_99_99" id="Footnote_99_99"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_99_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> Edinburgh Review.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_100_100" id="Footnote_100_100"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> Servants and Servitude, + in Howitt's Journal.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_101_101" id="Footnote_101_101"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_101_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> Sanitary Inquiry Report, + 1843, p.64.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_102_102" id="Footnote_102_102"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_102_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> Kay.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_103_103" id="Footnote_103_103"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_103_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> The Slave Trade, Domestic + and Foreign.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_104_104" id="Footnote_104_104"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> Bigelow's Jamaica in 1850.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_105_105" id="Footnote_105_105"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_105_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> Backhouse's Visit to the + Mauritius.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_106_106" id="Footnote_106_106"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> Brigg's Historical + Fragments.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_107_107" id="Footnote_107_107"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> Carey.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_108_108" id="Footnote_108_108"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_108_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> Carey.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_109_109" id="Footnote_109_109"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> Campbell's Modern India.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_110_110" id="Footnote_110_110"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> "Some of Mr. Smith's servants + entered into a combination to defraud a suitor in his court of a large sum of money, which he + was to pay to Mrs. Smith as she walked in the garden. A dancing-girl from the town of + Jubbulpore was made to represent Mrs. Smith, and a suit of Mrs. Smith's clothes were borrowed + for her from the washer-woman. The butler took the suitor into the garden and introduced him + to the supposed Mrs. Smith, who received him very graciously, and condescended to accept his + offer of five thousand rupees in gold mohurs. The plot was afterward discovered, and the old + butler, washer-woman and all, were sentenced to labour in a rope on the roads."</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_111_111" id="Footnote_111_111"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> Lords' Evidence, 1687.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_112_112" id="Footnote_112_112"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> Campbell's Modern India.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_113_113" id="Footnote_113_113"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_113_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> Rikards.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_114_114" id="Footnote_114_114"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> Collector's Report.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_115_115" id="Footnote_115_115"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> Sketch of Assam.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> + <p><a name="Footnote_116_116" id="Footnote_116_116"></a> + <a href="#FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> The Aristocracy of England.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p class="ac larger"><i>MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN PUBLISH</i></p> + +<table class="narrow2" id="ADS" summary="Advertisements"> + <tr> + <td style="width:85%" class="c1-4">*<b>FERN LEAVES FROM FANNY'S PORTFOLIO,—First + Series</b>,</td> + <td style="width:15%" class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">8 illustrations by Coffin, engraved by N. Orr, muslin, 400 pp., 12mo.,</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt top and side,</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Do do gilt edges and + sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1 75</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Do do gilt edges and + full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">2 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4">*<b>THE SAME—Second Series</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Uniform in Styles and Prices with the First Series—(to be ready in + March.)</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4">*<b>LITTLE FERNS FOR FANNY'S LITTLE FRIENDS</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">By the Author of Fern Leaves, 6 illustrations, muslin, 298 pp., 16mo.</td> + <td class="c2">75</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt top and side,</td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Do do gilt edges and + full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>NOBLE DEEDS OF AMERICAN WOMEN</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Edited by <span class="sc">J. Clement</span> and Mrs. <span class="sc">L. H. + Sigourney</span>, 7 illustrations on steel and wood, muslin, 480 pp. 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">2 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>FRESH LEAVES FROM WESTERN WOODS</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">Metta V. Fuller</span>, muslin, 315 pp. 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1 75</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>SUMMERFIELD, OR LIFE ON THE FARM</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">By Rev. <span class="sc">Day Kellogg Lee</span>, frontispiece on steel, + 16mo. 246 pp.</td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1.75</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>ODD-FELLOW'S AMULET</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or the principles of Odd-Fellowship defined, the objections answered, + and its advantages maintained, by Rev. <span class="sc">D. W. Bristol</span>, with five + illustrations on steel, muslin, 12mo. 248 pp</td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>HOUSEHOLD SCENES FOR THE HOME CIRCLE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">4 illustrations, muslin, 311 pp., 12mo.,</td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1 75</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE SUNRISE AND SUNSET OF LIFE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">A True Tale, by <span class="sc">Helen F. Parker</span>, muslin, + 220 pp., 16mo.,</td> + <td class="c2">67</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, full gilt,</td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>WHITE SLAVES OF ENGLAND</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">An Exposition of the condition and treatment of the Laboring Classes in + the Factories and Coal Mines of Great Britain; compiled from official documents, by + <span class="sc">John C. Cobden</span>, 11 illustrations, muslin, 500 pp., 12mo.,</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>HINTS AND HELPS to Health and Happiness</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">J. H. Ross</span>, M. D., illustrated, muslin, 325 pp., + 12mo.,</td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>PROGRESS OF CIVILIZATION</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">And other Lectures, by Rev. <span class="sc">John C. Lord</span>, D. D., + 16mo.,</td> + <td class="c2">67</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE NEW CLERK'S ASSISTANT</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or every man his own Lawyer, a book of Practical Forms, containing + numerous precedents for ordinary business transactions, designed for the use of County and + Town Officers, Merchants, Mechanics, Farmers, and Professional Men: New Constitution, by + <span class="sc">J. S. Jenkins</span>, law sheep, 644 pp., 8vo.</td> + <td class="c2">2 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4">*<b>THE NEW-YORK CIVIL AND CRIMINAL JUSTICE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">A complete treatise on the Civil and Criminal Jurisdiction, and the + Special Powers and Duties of Justices of the Peace in the State of New-York, with numerous + Forms and a copious Index, by <span class="sc">Morgan</span>, + <span class="sc">Blatchford</span> and <span class="sc">Seward</span>, + law sheep, 907 pp.</td> + <td class="c2">4 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4">*<b>THE GENERAL STATUTES OF NEW-YORK</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Being the Laws of a General Nature in the Revised Statutes of New-York, + with Notes and References to Judicial Decisions, and the Constitution of 1846, by + <span class="sc">S. Blatchford</span>, Esq., with a copious Index, by Clarence A. + Seward, law sheep, 1165 pp., 8vo.</td> + <td class="c2">3 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—in 2 vols., law sheep,</td> + <td class="c2">4 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4">*<b>BLATCHFORD'S REPORT OF CASES</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Argued and determined in the Circuit Court U. S. for the 2d Circuit, Hon. + Samuel Nelson, Presiding Justice; by <span class="sc">Samuel Blatchford</span>, Esq., + Reporter to the Court, law sheep, 703 pp., 8vo., vol. 1,</td> + <td class="c2">5 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—vol. 2, (in press—ready early in the summer of + 1854,)</td> + <td class="c2">5 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>EXECUTOR'S, ADMINISTRATOR'S AND GUARDIAN'S GUIDE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Their Powers, Duties, Rights and Obligations, with an Appendix of Practical + Forms; also, the Duties of Surrogates, third edition, revised and enlarged, and adapted to + the New Constitution; by <span class="sc">David Wright</span>, Counsellor at Law, law + sheep, 408 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE NEW CONSTABLE'S GUIDE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">And Marshal's Assistant, their Powers and Duties, Privileges and + Liabilities, in Civil and Criminal Proceedings in the State of New-York, with + Practical Forms, a new and revised edition, law sheep, 260 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>NEW ROAD ACT AND HIGHWAY LAWS</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Being a practical Compend of the Powers and Duties of Commissioners and + Overseers of Highways in the State of New-York, with References to the Statutes and Legal + Decisions, and all the necessary Forms, by a Counsellor at Law, large octavo pamphlet, + 40 pp.</td> + <td class="c2">25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4">*<b>YOUNG'S SCIENCE OF GOVERNMENT</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">New and improved edition, brought down to 1854, and adapted to the use + of Schools, by <span class="sc">A. W. Young</span>, sheep, 368 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE AMERICAN ORATOR'S OWN BOOK</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Being Selections from the ablest English and American Authors, muslin, + 350 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>YOUATT ON THE HORSE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Their Structure and Diseases, with their Remedies; also, Practical Rules + to Buyers, Breeders, Breakers, Smiths, &c.; Notes by <span class="sc">Spooner</span>. + An account of breeds in the United States, by <span class="sc">H. S. Randall</span>—with + 60 illustrations, muslin, 483 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>YOUATT AND MARTIN ON CATTLE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">With their Breeds, Management, and Diseases; a complete guide for the + Farmer, the Amateur, and the Veterinary Surgeon; with 100 illustrations, + muslin, 469 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>*THE AMERICAN FRUIT CULTURIST</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">With directions for the Orchard, Nursery and Garden, and descriptions of + American and Foreign Varieties, by <span class="sc">J. J. Thomas</span>; 300 accurate + figures, revised and enlarged, muslin, 421 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE DAIRYMAN'S MANUAL</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">A complete Guide for the American Dairyman, by <span class="sc">G. + Evans</span>, 235 pp., 8vo.</td> + <td class="c2">84</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE AMERICAN FARMER</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or, Home in the Country, a book for Rainy Days and Winter Evenings, + by <span class="sc">J. L. Blake</span>, D. D., 23 illustrations, muslin, 460 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>ROGERS' SCIENTIFIC AGRICULTURE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Muslin or sheep, 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">75</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>AMERICAN LADY'S SYSTEM OF COOKERY</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Comprising every variety of information for ordinary and holiday occasions, + with Rules for Carving, by Mrs. <span class="sc">T. J. Crowen</span>, illustrated, muslin, + 454 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>ROBBINS' PRODUCE RECKONER</b>, muslin, 118 pp., 16mo., per dozen,</td> + <td class="c2">6 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>WHAT I SAW IN NEW-YORK</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or, a Bird's-eye View of City Life, by <span class="sc">J. H. Ross</span>, + M. D., frontispiece, muslin, 326 pp., 12mo. </td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>FREMONT'S EXPLORING EXPEDITION</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">To the Rocky Mountains, Oregon and California, with additional "El Dorado" + matter; portrait, muslin, 456 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE ARCTIC REGIONS</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Being an Account of the Exploring Expeditions of Ross, Franklin, Parry, + Back, McClure, and others, with the English and American Expeditions in search of Sir John + Franklin, illustrated, muslin, 396 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>GREAT MEN AND GREAT EVENTS IN HISTORY</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">From the Earliest Period to the Present Time, by <span class="sc">John + Frost</span>, LL. D., 800 illustrations, muslin, 832 pp, 8vo.,</td> + <td class="c2">2 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—embossed morocco, marble edge,</td> + <td class="c2">3 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>ANTIQUITIES OF THE STATE OF NEW-YORK</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">With an Appendix on the Antiquities of the West, by Hon. <span class="sc">E. + G. Squier</span>, embellished with nearly 100 engravings, small 8vo.</td> + <td class="c2">2 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE PHELPS AND GORHAM PURCHASE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">To which is added a Supplement, containing the History of Ontario, Wayne, + Livingston, Yates and Allegany Counties, by <span class="sc">O. Turner</span>, author of + "The Holland Purchase," 588 pp., 8vo.,</td> + <td class="c2">2 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>HISTORY OF THE WAR WITH MEXICO</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">From the commencement of hostilities with the United States, to the + ratification of peace—embracing detailed accounts of the brilliant achievements + of Generals Taylor, Scott, Worth, Twiggs, Kearney and others, by <span class="sc">John S. + Jenkins</span>, 20 illustrations, muslin, 506 pp., large 12mo., </td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—octavo edition, embossed morocco, marble edge, + 526 pp.,</td> + <td class="c2">2 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>HISTORY OF THE MORMONS</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or, Latter Day Saints, with a Memoir of Joe Smith, the "American Mahomet," + 12 illustrations, muslin, 399 pp., 12mo.,</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>HISTORY AND CONDITION OF OREGON</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Including a Voyage round the World, by Rev. <span class="sc">G. Hines</span> + of the Oregon Mission, muslin, 437 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>FROST'S PICTORIAL HISTORY OF CALIFORNIA</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">From the period of the Conquest by Spain, to the formation of a State; + containing an account of the Gold Mines, Resources, and Adventures among the Miners, etc.; + also Advice to Emigrants: colored frontispiece and other illustrations, muslin, 508 pp., + 12mo. </td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>SIDNEY'S HISTORY OF AUSTRALIA,</b></td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">The Three Colonies of Australia, New South Wales, Victoria, South Australia, + their Pastures, Copper Mines and Gold Fields, by <span class="sc">Samuel Sidney</span>, + 10 illustrations, muslin, 408 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>PICTORIAL FAMILY ENCYCLOPEDIA</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Of History, Biography and Travels, comprising prominent Events in the + History of the World, Biographies of Eminent Men, and interesting Accounts of Distinguished + Travelers, by <span class="sc">John Frost</span>, LL. D., 360 illustrations, muslin, + 648 pp., 8vo.</td> + <td class="c2">2 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—embossed morocco, marble edges,</td> + <td class="c2">2 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4">*<b>TWELVE YEARS A SLAVE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">The Narrative of <span class="sc">Solomon Northup</span>, a citizen of + New-York kidnapped in Washington City in 1841, and rescued in 1853, from a Cotton + Plantation near the Red River, in Louisiana, 7 illustrations, muslin, 336 pp., 12mo. </td> + <td class="c2">1 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4">*<b>WILD SCENES OF A HUNTER'S LIFE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Including Cummings' Adventures among the Lions, Elephants and other + wild Animals of Africa, by <span class="sc">John Frost</span>, LL. D., with 8 colored and + 300 letter-press illustrations, muslin, 467 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>LIFE ON THE PLAINS</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">And among the Diggings, being Scenes and Adventures of an Overland + Journey to California, with particular Incidents of the Route, Sufferings of Emigrants, + Indian Tribes, &c., by <span class="sc">A. Delano</span>, illustrated, 384 pp., + 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE AUSTRALIAN CAPTIVE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or, Fifteen Years' Adventures of William Jackman, including his Residence + among the Cannibals of Nuyts' Land, with portraits and other illustrations, + edited by Rev. <span class="sc">I. Chamberlain</span>, muslin, 392 pp., 12mo. </td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>FRONTIER LIFE</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or Scenes and Adventures in the South-west, by <span class="sc">F. + Hardman</span>, illustrated, muslin, 376 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THRILLING ADVENTURES</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">By Land and Sea, being remarkable Facts from Authentic Sources, edited + by <span class="sc">J. O. Brayman</span>, illustrated, muslin, 504 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>DARING DEEDS OF AMERICAN HEROES</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">With Biographical Sketches, by <span class="sc">J. O. Brayman</span>, + illustrated, 12mo. 450 pp.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>LIFE AT THE SOUTH</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Being Narratives, Scenes, and Incidents in Slave Life, by <span class="sc">W. + L. G. Smith</span>, illustrated, muslin, 519 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>BORDER WARS OF THE WEST</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Comprising the Frontier Wars of Pennsylvania, Virginia, Kentucky, Ohio, + Indiana, Illinois, Tennessee and Wisconsin, and embracing the Individual + Adventures among the Indians, and Exploits of Boone, Kenton, Clark, Logan, and other + Border Heroes of the West, by <span class="sc">Professor Frost</span>, 300 illustrations, + muslin, 608 pp., muslin, 8vo.</td> + <td class="c2">2 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>WESTERN SCENES</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">And Reminiscences, together with thrilling Legends and Traditions of the + Red Man of the Forest, illustrated, muslin, 8vo.</td> + <td class="c2">2 00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>GIFT BOOK FOR YOUNG MEN</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or Familiar Letters on Self-knowledge, Self-education, Female Society, + Marriage, &c., by Dr. <span class="sc">Wm. A. Alcott</span>, frontispiece, muslin, + 312 pp., 12mo. </td> + <td class="c2">84</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>GIFT BOOK FOR YOUNG LADIES</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or Woman's Mission; being Familiar Letters to a Young Lady on her + Amusements, Employments, Studies, Acquaintances, male and female, Friendships, &c., + by Dr. <span class="sc">Wm. A. Alcott</span>, frontispiece on steel, muslin, + 307 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">84</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>YOUNG MAN'S BOOK</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or, Self-Education, by Rev. <span class="sc">Wm. Hosmer</span>, frontispiece + on steel, muslin, 291 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">84</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>YOUNG LADY'S BOOK</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or, Principles of Female Education, by Rev. <span class="sc">Wm. + Hosmer</span>, frontispiece on steel, muslin, 301 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">84</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>GOLDEN STEPS FOR THE YOUNG</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">To Usefulness, Respectability and Happiness, by <span class="sc">John Mather + Austin</span>, author of "Voice to Youth," frontispiece on steel, muslin, 243 pp., + 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">84</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="sc">The Same</span>—muslin, gilt edges and full gilt sides,</td> + <td class="c2">1 50</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>VOICE TO THE YOUNG</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">Or, Lectures for the Times, by <span class="sc">W. W. Patton</span>, + muslin, 213 pp., 12mo.</td> + <td class="c2">75</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE YOUTH'S BOOK OF GEMS</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">F. C. Woodworth</span>, with 100 illustrations, + muslin, 386 pp., 8vo.</td> + <td class="c2">1 25</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>THE STRING OF PEARLS</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">For Boys and Girls, by <span class="sc">T. S. Arthur</span> and + <span class="sc">F. C. Woodworth</span>, with many illustrations, muslin, 288 pp., + 16mo.</td> + <td class="c2">84</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>STORIES ABOUT BIRDS</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">F. C. Woodworth</span>, with illustrative engravings, + muslin, 336 pp., 16mo.</td> + <td class="c2">84</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">F. C. Woodworth</span>, with illustrative engravings, + muslin, 336 pp., 16mo.</td> + <td class="c2">84</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-4"><b>WONDERS OF THE INSECT WORLD</b>,</td> + <td class="c2"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1-3">By <span class="sc">F. C. Woodworth</span>, with illustrative engravings, + muslin, 336 pp., 16mo.</td> + <td class="c2">84</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="transnote"> + +<h2>Transcriber's Note:</h2> + +<ul> + <li>Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.</li> + <li>Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant + form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.</li> + <li>Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.</li> + <li>Footnotes were moved to the end of the book and numbered in one + continuous sequence.</li> + <li>Other notes: + <ul> + <li>p. 26: be at changed to bear. (...that parish must bear the cost....)</li> + <li>p. 29: Frith → Firth. (Firth of Forth.)</li> + <li>p. 84: Chesterle → Chester le. (Chester le Street.)</li> + <li>p. 336: an → on. (I could sit my eyes on.)</li> + </ul> + </li> +</ul> +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 52423 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |