Chapter III: Labour in Factories (1)

The two former chapters have been given to the consideration of the relation between the employer of labour and the labouring man, and to general reflections upon the duties arising from that relation. Let us now take a particular instance, the employment of labour in manufactures for example, and go through some of the more obvious points to which the master might in that case direct his attention beneficially.

1. THE MILL.

It would seem an obvious thing enough, that when a man collects a number of his fellow-men together to work for him, it would be right to provide a sufficient supply of air for them. But this does not appear to have been considered as an axiom; and, in truth, we cannot much wonder at this neglect, when we find that those who have to provide for the amusement of men, and who would be likely, therefore to consult the health and convenience of those whom they bring together, should sedulously shut out the pure air, as if they disliked letting anything in that did not pay for admission. In most grievances, the people aggrieved are very sensible at the time of the evil they are undergoing; which is not, however, the case with those who suffer from an impure atmosphere. They are, in general, almost unconscious of what they are enduring. This makes it the more desirable, in the case we are considering, that the manufacturer himself, or the government, or the community at large, should be alive to the mischief arising from want of ventilation in these crowded assemblages of men, and to the absolute necessity of providing remedies for it.

This will not be an inappropriate place for saying something about the non-interference principle. There is no doubt that interference has often been most tyrannous and absurd, that our ancestors, for instance, sometimes interfered only to insist upon impossibilities, and that we may occasionally do the same. But, on the other hand, the let-alone principle proceeds upon the supposition, not only that every body knows his own interest best, or if not, that his freedom of action is of more importance than his acting wisely, which is often true; but it also goes on to assume that every body knows and will take just care of the welfare of others. Push either principle to any great length; and you will find yourself in the land of confusion and absurdity. In truth, I should seldom like to say anything about the wisdom, or the folly, of interference, until I knew exactly what it was about, and how far you intended to interfere. It is one of those matters in which it is especially desirable to keep in mind those maxims of prudence, respecting the application of general rules to moral questions, which Burke has handled so admirably. "Nothing universal," he observes, "can be rationally affirmed on any moral, or any political subject. Pure metaphysical abstraction does not belong to these matters. The lines of morality are not like ideal lines of mathematicks. They are broad and deep as well as long. They admit of exceptions; they demand modifications. These exceptions and modifications are not made by the process of logic, but by the rules of prudence. Prudence is not only the first in rank of the virtues political and moral, but she is the director, the regulator, the standard of them all." To take a particular instance of legislative interference, namely, the enactments about building party-walls, can any one doubt that this interference has been most beneficial? Does any one suppose that, without it, the same good results would have been gained? Would the prudence of private individuals ever have accomplished it? Besides, I think it can hardly be denied that a state should have a degree of providence for the general body, not to be expected from private individuals, and which might compel them to do things that would not consort with their interest even upon the most enlarged views which they could take of it. The financial affairs of the nation are conducted with no slight apparatus of intrusion and vexation. We endure this patiently: indeed, in many cases, it is difficult to see how it could be obviated. Surely we may submit to some simple sanitary regulations, especially of that kind which may be compared to indirect taxation, requiring to be attended to only by a certain class of persons of daily experience in the matter. Such are regulations with respect to building, which need to be looked to in the first instance; and then the results of them remain for ever afterwards a great gain to public health and morals. I am speaking now rather of the question of annoyance, than of loss, from legislative interference. Of course, in this matter of building, it is easy to perceive that limits must carefully be put to the extent of interference with a view to keeping down the expense. If this is not done, the whole purpose of the regulations may be defeated. But even in this, it is possible to be too nice with respect to interfering with what are called the rights of property, or too much afraid of creating an artificial dearness by regulations, many of which will in the end be found to be a great saving.

But to resume the subject of the Mill. Each branch of manufactures has its peculiar dangers and disadvantages; and it behoves the master to be frequently directing his attention to remedy the peculiar evils of his manufacture. He is to be the pioneer to find out for his men ways of avoiding these evils. It cannot be his duty to study only how to make his fabric cheaper, and not to take any pains to see how it can be made to cost less of human life. However, if a man has once got a just view of his position as an employer of labour, he will not need to be urged in this matter, but must see at once that the health of his men is one of the first things for him to look to. What would you think of a commander who was careless of the health of his army, merely because he had an indefinite power of recruiting? In a thickly-peopled country like this, an employer of labour, if his work does not require much skill, can generally get any number of men to serve him, which would be a strange reason, however, for making the health of anyone amongst those whom he does employ less precious in his eyes. Human labour may be ever so abundant, but human life cannot be cheap.

While we are talking of the Mill, it may be well to observe that the system of piecework, when it is done by a man with children under him, is likely to be made too severe work for them. It is a hard fate, indeed, for children to be always under the eye of one whose interest it is to get as much work out of them as possible. The above remarks, however, apply even more to piece-work done at home than at the mill.

The next thing to be mentioned in connexion with the Mill is the time of labour. This is a great question, embracing many considerations which it would be quite foreign to my purpose to enter upon here. But I may observe that there is much in this matter which might be done by the masters, individually, and collectively. They have to consider how the time that they may get for the recreation of their men is to be apportioned. For instance, whether it is better to give it in whole days, or by half-days, or to spread it over the ordinary days of work. These are questions that cannot be answered without much thought and knowledge respecting the social habits of the labouring people.

All that we have addressed to the manufacturer on the subject of his Mill, applies even more cogently to the minor superintendent of labour and his workshop. There, the evils complained of are often far greater. Ventilation is less attended to; less pains are taken to diminish the peculiar dangers of the craft; the hours of labour are more numerous; and the children sometimes exposed to cruelties utterly unheard of in factories. Read the evidence respecting the employment of milliners, and you will wish that dresses could be made up, as well as the materials made for them, in factories. Alas! what a striking instance the treatment of these poor milliner girls is of the neglect of duty on the part of employers: I mean of those who immediately superintend this branch of labour, and of those who cause it. Had the former been the least aware of their responsibility, would they have hesitated to remonstrate against the unreasonable orders of their customers? And, as for the latter, for the ladies who expect such orders to be complied with, how sublimely inconsiderate of the comfort of those beneath them they must have become. I repeat it again: the careless cruelty in the world almost outweighs the rest.

2. THE SCHOOL-ROOM.

Some manufacturer may think that this branch of the matter does not belong to him, as he does not employ children of the age which makes it incumbent upon him by law to have anything to do with their schooling. But I would venture to suggest that it is a matter which belongs to all of us, and, especially, to those who are able to pay attention to the habits of large masses of people, put, as it were, under their care. Suppose that there had been no such thing in the world's history as a decline and fall of the Roman Empire. In the course of time, though we should probably have had our Domitians and our Neros, we might have delighted in a modern Trajan or an Antonine. Under such a man, the progress of letters, having proceeded in any thing like the manner that it has done, we should have had some general system of national education, which, after the Roman fashion of completeness, would have traversed the state, with iron step, doubtless even to the remote ends of barbarian Britain. To say that this would not have been a signal benefit to mankind would be idle: what we have to say against the despotic system is, that it absorbs private virtue, and suppresses private endeavour; that though it may create better machines, it certainly makes worse men. Now then to bring these imaginings home; for they do concern us closely. My readers are, to a certain extent, educated; they will have gained by living in a free state; but if they continue to neglect the welfare of the great mass, in respect of education, can they say that this, the first layer of the nation, the "turba Remi," might not almost wish, if they could comprehend the question, to live under a despot who would educate them, rather than with free men who do not? Are we to enjoy the singular freedom of speech and action, which we do enjoy in this country, and to expect to have no sacrifice to make for it? Is liberty, the first of possessions, to have no duties corresponding to its invaluable rights? And, in fine, ought it not to be some drawback on the enjoyment of our own freedom, if a doubt can come across our minds whether a vast mass of our fellow citizens might not be the better for living under a despotic government? These are very serious questions; and the sooner we are able, with a good conscience, to give a satisfactory answer to them, the better. Till that time, let no man in this country say that the education of the people is nothing to him.

But how strange it is that men should require to be urged to this good work of education. The causing children to be taught is a thing so full of joy, of love, of hope, that one wonders how such a gladsome path of benevolence could ever have been unfrequented. The delight of educating is like that of cultivating near the fruitful Nile, where seed time and harvest come so close together. And when one looks forward to the indefinite extension that any efforts in this direction may probably enjoy, one is apt to feel as if nothing else were important, and to be inclined to expend all one's energies in this one course. Indeed, it is hard to estimate the enormous benefit of enabling a man to commune with the most exalted minds of all time, to read the most significant records of all ages, to find that others have felt and seen and suffered as himself, to extend his sympathy with his brother-man, his insight into nature, his knowledge of the ways of God. Now the above is but a poor description of what the humblest education offers.

Let us now consider the subject of "the school-room" more in detail. And, the first remark I have to make, is, that we should perpetually recal to mind the nature of our own thoughts, and sensations, at the early periods of life in which those are whom we are trying to educate. This will make us careful not to weary children with those things which we long to impress most upon them. The repetition of words, whatever they may contain, is often like the succession of waves in a receding tide, which makes less of an inroad at each pulsation. It is different when an idea, or state of feeling, is repeated by conduct of various kinds: that is most impressive. If a child, for instance, is brought up where there is a pervading idea of any kind, manifested as it will be in many ways, the idea is introduced again and again without wearisomeness, and the child imbibes it unconsciously. But mere maxims, embracing this idea, would very likely have gained no additional influence with him from being constantly repeated: that is, at the time; for, in after years, the maxims may, perhaps, fasten upon his mind with a peculiar strength, simply from their having been often repeated to him at an early period of his life. But at present this repetition may be of immense disservice. You cannot continue to produce the same effect by words, that you did on first using them; and often you go on hammering about a thing until you loosen what was fast in the first instance. It is well to keep such reflections steadily in mind as regards religious instruction for the young, and, especially, as regards religious services for them. Go back to your own youth, and recollect how little command of attention you had yourself, how volatile you were, how anxious to escape all tedium, how weary of words, how apt to dislike routine. Then see whether you make sufficient allowance for these feelings in dealing with the young; and whether it might not be possible to give them the same holy precepts, to communicate the same extent, or nearly so, of religious instruction, and yet to ensure their love for the times, and places, and circumstances, of this communication. You must allow that you do a very dangerous thing indeed, when you make that wearisome which you wish to be most loved. I must confess that it has often struck me, that we insist upon too much religious attendance from children of a tender age; and, considering what we know of the impatience of the human mind, I cannot but think that such a system is often most prejudicial. I say these things with much hesitation, and some fear of being misunderstood; and I do not venture to enter into details, or to presume to say what should be the exact course in so difficult a question. What I wish, is to draw the attention of those engaged in instruction to a point of view which may sometimes escape them, or which they may be tempted to neglect for the sake of appearances, the household gods of this generation.

* * * * *

There is one maxim which those who superintend schools should ponder well; and that is, that the best things to be learnt are those which the children cannot be examined upon. One cannot but fear that the masters will be apt to think school-proficiency all in all; and that the founders and supporters of schools will, occasionally, be tempted by vanity to take most interest in those things which give most opportunity for display. Yet the slightest inferiority of moral tone in a school would be ill compensated for by an expertness, almost marvellous, in dealing with figures; or a knowledge of names, things, and places, which may well confound the grown-up bystander. That school would in reality be the one to be proud of, where order was thoroughly maintained with the least admixture of fear; where you would have most chance of meeting with truthful replies from the children in a matter where such replies would criminate themselves: and where you would find the most kindly feeling to each other prevalent throughout. Yet these are things not to be seen on show days, that cannot be got up for exhibition, that require unwearied supervision on the part of masters and benefactors, that will never be attempted but by those who, themselves, feel deeply the superiority of moral excellence to all else. Such teachers will see how the kindness of children to each other may be encouraged. They will take more notice of a good-natured thing than a clever one. They will show, how much, even in the minutest trifles, truth and fortitude weigh with them. They will be careful not to stimulate an unwholesome craving for praise in their pupils. They will look not only to the thing done, but also to the mode and spirit of doing it. That this spirit and mode may be the means of generating and guiding future endeavour will be a main object with such instructors. The dignity of labour, the independence of thrift, the greatness of contentment, will be themes dwelt upon by them, in their loving foresight for the future welfare of the infant labourers entrusted to their care. To endear holy things to these little ones would delight such teachers far more than to instil the utmost proficiency in any critical or historical knowledge of the sacred writings. Not that the two things are in the least degree incompatible. Far from it, indeed! All I mean to insist on is, that such teachers will perceive what are the great objects of culture: and how subservient even the best knowledge is to the apprehension of duty. They will see, too, more clearly the necessity of bearing in mind the pre-eminence of moral and religious culture, when they reflect that many of their pupils come from places which cannot be called homes, where scarcely anything like parental love sustains or informs them, and where, perhaps, confusion, discontent, and domestic turbulence prevail.

We may remark, as bearing upon this subject, that singing lessons should be greatly encouraged in schools. There are several merits connected with this mode of instruction. It employs many together, and gives a feeling of communion; it is not much mixed up with emulation; the tenderest and highest sentiments may be unostentatiously impressed by its means, for you can introduce in songs such things as you could not lecture upon; then it gives somewhat of a cultivated taste, and an additional topic of social interest, even to those who do not make much proficiency; while to others, who have a natural ability for it, it may form an innocent and engaging pursuit throughout their lives.

With respect to the intellectual part of teaching, I have not much to say: and it is a branch of the subject which has engaged, and is engaging, the attention of men who are much more capable of speaking about it than I am. The only thing which it occurs to me to mention is, that one would like to see a great deal of manual teaching, with a view not only to the future profit, but also to the future pleasure and instruction of the children. When you think that many of them will be artisans, whose only occupation, perhaps, will be to perform some one process of manufactures, requiring next to no thought or skill, it becomes the more necessary to educate their hands as well as their heads. Man is an animal very fond of construction of any sort; and a wise teacher, knowing the happiness that flows from handiwork, will seize upon opportunities for teaching even the most trivial accomplishments of a manual kind. They will come in, hereafter, to embellish a man's home, and to endear it to him. They will occupy time that would, otherwise, be ill spent. And, besides, there are many persons whose cleverness lies only in this way; and you have to teach them this or nothing.

3. THE PLAYGROUND.

This is a place quite as important as the school-room. Here it is, that a large part of the moral cultivation may be carried on. It is a great object to humanize the conduct of children to each other at play times without interfering with them, or controlling them, too much. But we have, before, gone over the motives which should actuate a teacher in his moral guidance; and it needs only to remark, that the playground is a place where that guidance is eminently required; and where the exigencies for it are most easily discerned.

Those games should not be overlooked which are of a manly kind, and likely to be continued in after life. This brings us naturally to think of the playgrounds for children of a larger growth. Hitherto there has been a sad deficiency in this matter in our manufacturing towns, and almost everywhere else. Can any thing be more lamentable to contemplate than a dull, grim, and vicious population, whose only amusement is sensuality? Yet, what can we expect, if we provide no means whatever of recreation; if we never share our own pleasures with our poorer brethren; and if the public buildings which invite them in their brief hours of leisure are chiefly gin palaces? As for our cathedrals and great churches, we mostly have them well locked up, for fear any one should steal in and say a prayer, or contemplate a noble work of art, without paying for it: and we shut people up by thousands in dense towns with no outlets to the country, but those which are guarded on each side by dusty hedges. Now an open space near a town is one of nature's churches: and it is an imperative duty to provide such things. Nor, indeed, should we stop at giving breathing places to crowded multitudes in great towns. To provide cheap locomotion, as a means of social improvement, should be ever in the minds of legislators and other influential persons. Blunders in legislating about railroads, and absurd expenditure in making them, are a far greater public detriment than they may seem at first sight. Again, without interfering too much, or attempting to force a "Book of Sports" upon the people, who in that case, would be resolutely dull and lugubrious, the benevolent employer of labour might exert himself in many ways to encourage healthful and instructive amusements amongst his men. He might give prizes for athletic excellence or skill. He might aid in establishing zoological gardens, or music-meetings, or exhibitions of pictures, or mechanics' institutes. These are things in which some of the great employers of labour have already set him the example. Let him remember how much his workpeople are deprived of by being almost confined to one spot; and let him be the more anxious to enlarge their minds by inducing them to take interest in any thing which may prevent the "ignorant present," and its low cares, from absorbing all their attention. He has very likely some pursuit, or some art, in which he takes especial pleasure himself, and which gives to his leisure, perhaps, its greatest charm: he may be sure that there are many of his people who could be made to share in some degree that pleasure, or pursuit, with him. It is a large, a sure, and certainly a most pleasurable beneficence, to provide for the poor such opportunities of recreation, or means of amusement, as I have mentioned above. Neither can it be set down as at all a trifling matter. Depend upon it, that man has not made any great progress in humanity who does not care for the leisure hours and amusements of his fellow-men.

While we are upon this matter, I will mention something which borders closely upon it, though it applies to the consumer rather than the manufacturer. Most men would think it much, if it were brought home to them, that from any carelessness of theirs, some person had suffered unnecessary imprisonment, if only for a day. And yet any one, who encourages unreasonably late hours of business, does what he can to uphold a system of needless confinement, depriving thousands of that healthful change of pursuit which is one of the main aliments both for body and soul, and leaving little time or opportunity for any thing to grow up in their minds beyond the rudest and most trivial cares and objects.

4. THE WORKMAN'S HOME.

That the workman should have a home, which, however humble it may be, should yet afford room and scope for the decencies, if not for some of the comforts and refinements of civilized life, is manifestly essential, if we wish to preserve the great body of the people from a state of savageness. There is an important and original remark on this subject in the Hand Loom Weavers Report of 1841:

"The man who dines for 6d. and clothes himself during the year for 5
pounds is probably as healthily fed, and as healthily clad, as if his
dinner cost two guineas a day, and his dress 200 pounds a year. But
this is not the case with respect to habitation. Every increase of
accommodation, from the corner of a cellar to a mansion, renders the
dwelling more healthy, and, to a considerable extent, the size and
goodness of the dwelling tends to render its inmates more civilized."

Indeed, if civilization does not show itself in a man's home, where else is it likely to take much root with him? Make his home comfortable, and you do more towards making him a steady and careful citizen, than you could by any other means. Now only look around, and see how entirely this has been neglected, at least, until within a recent date. Our workers are toiling all day long, or, if they have leisure, it is mostly accompanied by pecuniary distress: and can you expect in either case that they will busy themselves about those primary structural arrangements without which it is scarcely possible to have a comfortable home? Many of the things, too, which are needful for this end, require capital, or, at least, such conjoint enterprise as can hardly be expected from the poor. Take any individual workman. Suppose there is defective drainage in his street, or, as often happens, no drainage at all, what can one such man do, even if at all alive to the evil? When you consider the dependent condition of the labouring classes, and how little time they have for domestic arrangements of any kind, does it not behove the employer of labour to endeavour that his workmen should have opportunities of getting places to live in, fit for human beings in a civilized country? I use the phrase "employer of labour," in its widest sense; and at once say, that there are many things bearing upon the comfort of the habitations of the poor, which both the local authorities and the imperial government ought to look to. Is there not a strange mockery in the fact, stated in the Sanitary Report, that "the annual slaughter in England and Wales from preventible causes of typhus which attacks persons in the vigour of life, appears to be double the amount of what was suffered by the allied armies in the battle of Waterloo?" Must we not say again that the careless cruelty of the world almost outweighs the rest?

I have hitherto abstained from vexing my readers with details; nor do I wish now to do more than draw their attention to a few extracts from public documents respecting the habitations of the poor. I take the following from the Hand Loom Weavers' Report in 1841.

"The First Annual Report of the Registrar-General, showed for the
year 1838 a variation of the annual mortality in different districts
of the metropolis, amounting to 100 per cent.; a difference nearly
equal to that which exists between the most healthy and the least
healthy portions of the world. The inquiries instituted at the same
time by the Poor Law Commissioners into the physical causes of fever
in the metropolis, have traced the comparative mortality of the
unhealthy districts principally to the presence of impurities, the
want of ventilation, and the bad construction of houses.

"The following extracts from Dr. Southwood Smith's Report on Bethnal
Green and Whitechapel, show both the causes and the intensity of the
evil.

'It appears,' says Dr. Southwood Smith, 'that in many parts of
Bethnal Green and Whitechapel, fever of a malignant and fatal
character is always more or less prevalent. In some streets it has
recently prevailed in almost every house; in some courts in every
house; and in some few instances in every room in every house. Cases
are recorded in which every member of a family has been attacked in
succession, of whom in every such case several have died; some whole
families have been swept away. Instances are detailed in which there
have been found in one small room six persons lying ill of fever
together; I have myself seen this, four in one bed, and two in
another.

* * * * *

'The room of a fever patient in a small and heated apartment in
London, with no perflation of fresh air, is perfectly analogous to a
standing pool in Ethiopia full of bodies of dead locusts. The poison
generated in both cases is the same; the difference is merely in the
degree of its potency. Nature with her burning sun, her stilled and
pent up wind, her stagnant and teeming marsh, manufactures plague on
a large and fearful scale. Poverty in her hut, covered with her
rags, surrounded with her filth, striving with all her might to keep
out the pure air and to increase the heat, imitates nature but too
successfully: the process and the product are the same; the only
difference is in the magnitude of the result.

'But the magnitude of the result in London, if that magnitude be
estimated by the numbers attacked, is not slight. From returns
received from the Bethnal Green and Whitechapel Unions it appears
that during the last year there occurred of fever cases,

In the Bethnal Green Union 2,084

In the Whitechapel Union 2,557

Total 4,641

The state of things described above by Dr. Southwood Smith is by no means confined to the metropolis; nor, even, is it to be seen in its worst form there. Mr. Chadwick says, "the most wretched of the stationary population of which I have been able to obtain any account, or that I have ever seen, was that which I saw in company with Dr. Arnott, and others, in the wynds of Edinburgh and Glasgow." I forbear to add their detailed report, which, as regards Glasgow especially, represents a loathsome state of filth and wretchedness. If we go now to the manufacturing towns of England, the evidence is of a similar character. "The following extract," says the Sanitary Report, "is descriptive of the condition of large classes of tenements in the manufacturing towns of Lancashire. It is from the report of Mr. Pearson, the medical officer of the Wigan Union."

"From the few observations which I have been enabled to make
respecting the causes of fever during the two months which I have
held the situation of house-surgeon to the Dispensary, I am inclined
to consider the filthy condition of the town as being the most
prominent source. Many of the streets are unpaved and almost covered
with stagnant water, which lodges in numerous large holes which exist
upon their surface, and into which the inhabitants throw all kinds of
rejected animal and vegetable matters, which then undergo decay and
emit the most poisonous exhalations. These matters are often
allowed, from the filthy habits of the inhabitants of these
districts, many of whom, especially the poor Irish, are utterly
regardless both of personal and domestic cleanliness, to accumulate
to an immense extent, and thus become prolific sources of malaria,
rendering the atmosphere an active poison."

Dr. Edward Knight, speaking of some parts of the town of Stafford, says,

"These parts of the town are without drainage, the houses, which are
private property, are built without any regard to situation or
ventilation, and constructed in a manner to ensure the greatest
return at the least possible outlay. The accommodation in them does
not extend beyond two rooms; these are small, and, for the most part,
the families work in the day-time in the same room in which they
sleep, to save fuel.

"There is not any provision made for refuse dirt, which, as the least
trouble, is thrown down in front of the houses, and there left to
putrefy."

Mr. William Rayner, the medical officer of the Heaton Norris district of the Stockport Union, thus describes a part of that town:

"There are forty-four houses in the two rows, and twenty-two cellars,
all of the same size. The cellars are let off as separate dwellings;
these are dark, damp, and very low, not more that six feet between
the ceiling and floor. The street between the two rows is seven
yards wide, in the centre of which is the common gutter, or more
properly sink, into which all sorts of refuse is thrown; it is a foot
in depth. Thus there is always a quantity of putrefying matter
contaminating the air. At the end of the rows is a pool of water
very shallow and stagnant, and a few yards further, a part of the
town's gas works. In many of these dwellings there are four persons
in one bed."

We might have hoped that country districts at least would have been free from the evils occasioned by contracted building, want of ventilation, want of drainage, and the like; but this is far indeed from being the case. The following is from the report of Mr. Aaron Little, the medical officer of the Chippenham Union:

"The parish of Colerne, which, upon a cursory view, any person
(unacquainted with its peculiarities) would pronounce to be the most
healthy village in England, is in fact the most unhealthy. From its
commanding position (being situated upon a high hill) it has an
appearance of health and cheerfulness which delights the eye of the
traveller, who commands a view of it from the Great Western road; but
this impression is immediately removed on entering at any point of
the town. The filth, the dilapidated buildings, the squalid
appearance of the majority of the lower orders, have a sickening
effect upon the stranger who first visits this place. During three
years' attendance on the poor of this district, I have never known
the small pox, scarlatina, or the typhus fever to be absent. The
situation is damp, and the buildings unhealthy, and the inhabitants
themselves inclined to be of dirty habits. There is also a great
want of drainage."

Mr. John Fox, the medical officer of the Cerne Union, Dorsetshire, gives the following evidence:

"In many of the cottages, where synochus prevailed, the beds stood on
the ground-floor, which was damp three parts of the year; scarcely
one had a fire place in the bed-room, and one had a single small pane
of glass stuck in the mud wall as its only window, with a large heap
of wet and dirty potatoes in one corner. 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
animal food, and consequently highly susceptible of disease and very
unable to contend with it. I am quite sure if such persons were
placed in good, comfortable, clean cottages, the improvement in
themselves and children would soon be visible, and the exceptions
would only be found in a few of the poorest and most wretched, who
perhaps had been born in a mud hovel, and had lived in one the first
thirty years of their lives."

Mr. James Gane, the medical officer of the Uxbridge Union, says,

"I attribute the prevalence of diseases of an epidemic character,
which exists so much more among the poor than among the rich, to be,
from the want of better accommodation as residence, (their dwellings
instead of being built of solid materials are complete shells of mud
on a spot of waste land the most swampy in the parish; this is to be
met with almost everywhere in rural districts) to the want of better
clothing, being better fed, more attention paid to the cleanliness of
their dwellings, and less congregated together."

Mr. Thomas H. Smith, the medical officer of the Bromley Union, states:

"My attention was first directed to the sources of malaria in this
district and neighbourhood when cholera became epidemic. I then
partially inspected the dwellings of the poor, and have recently
completed the survey. It is almost incredible that so many sources
of malaria should exist in a rural district. A total absence of all
provisions for effectual drainage around cottages is the most
prominent source of malaria; throughout the whole district there is
scarcely an attempt at it. The refuse vegetable and animal matters
are also thrown by the cottagers in heaps near their dwellings to
decompose; are sometimes not removed, except at very long intervals;
and are always permitted to remain sufficiently long to accumulate in
some quantity. Pigsties are generally near the dwellings, and are
always surrounded by decomposing matters. These constitute some of
the many sources of malaria, and peculiarly deserve attention as
being easily remedied, and yet, as it were, cherished. The effects
of malaria are strikingly exemplified in parts of this district.
There are localities from which fever is seldom long absent; and I
find spots where the spasmodic cholera located itself are also the
chosen resorts of continued fever."

It appears from the Sanitary Report, from which I have made the above extracts, and which was presented to Parliament in 1842, that there were then 8000 inhabited cellars at Liverpool; and that the occupants were estimated at from 35,000 to 40,000. Liverpool is called a prosperous town. People point with admiration to its docks, and its warehouses, and speak of its wealth and grandeur in high terms. But such prosperity, like the victory of Pyrrhus, is apt to suggest the idea of ruin. Thirty-five thousand people living in cellars! Surely such things as these demonstrate the necessity there is for making great exertions to provide fit habitations for the poor. Each year there is required in Great Britain, according to the Sanitary Report, an increase of 59,000 new tenements, "a number equal to that of two new towns such as Manchester proper, which has 32,310 houses, and Birmingham, which has 27,268 houses." In these large increments of building, is it not essential that there should be some care for the health and the morals of the people? Is it not a question which even in a selfish point of view affects the whole empire?

* * * * *

I am aware that there are great difficulties in the way of any general measure for regulating buildings. The first difficulty which occurs, one which, of itself, forms a limit to building regulations, is, that if you carry them beyond a certain extent, the poorer classes are driven, by the increased expense, from the occupation of cottages to that of rooms, which would be anything but a gain. Besides, it is obvious, on other accounts, that any regulations with respect to building must be introduced with great care, especially in an old country, and where the buildings, which you would be most anxious to modify, are those which will be erected in the immediate vicinity of ground already densely covered with houses. The Liverpool Improvement Act affords a curious instance of, what appears to me, absurd and impatient legislation on the subject of building. By some of its provisions a certain description of cellar in that town will be thrown out of occupation on a given day. Now, where are the inhabitants of these cellars to go to? You might as well legislate that no food except of a certain quality should be sold; but it does not seem likely that this would secure the maintenance of the population so legislated upon. Inconsiderate measures of this kind occasionally put even wise interference out of countenance. Still, I must contend that much good may be done by some simple building regulations of a sanitary nature. Much may be done indirectly, all of which is nearly sure to be good. For instance, it is very desirable to lower the taxation upon building materials. Then, again, wherever the window-tax can be modified, with a view to benefit the dwellings of the poor, it should be done. Mr. Biers, a witness examined before the Select Committee in 1842 on Building Regulations, says,

"The preamble of this Act (the Bill, I believe, then under
consideration) sets out that it is for the purpose of preventing
disease and giving better ventilation; now, it would much increase
the advantages of poor people if a rider or addition was made to the
17th section, for the purpose of giving a better ventilation without
being liable to the tax-gatherer. I have added to this section,
'And, for the purpose of promoting health and better ventilation, it
is provided, that all window-lights or casements, not being between
the outside brick or stone reveals of greater dimensions than one
foot wide and three feet high, shall not be assessed to the window
duties, whether the same be glazed or not, provided the room or
appurtenance is not used for a sleeping or dwelling apartment.'"

_Viscount Sandon_. This is not for inhabited cellars? No, it is to
promote the ventilation of any part that is not an inhabited room;
larders and cellars and out-appurtenances of houses. I used to put
in the buildings I am now erecting what are termed lancet lights, for
the ventilating the cellars, larders, &c.; and, previous to the late
survey, these lancet lights were never taken; but so stringent were
the orders from the tax-board on the late survey, that if they found
a gimlet-hole they would take it.

_Chairman_. Were they glazed?--Yes.

If they were not glazed, but made of wire, how would that be?--Then
they can take them, unless the word 'Dairy' or 'Cheese-room' is
written over them; I have now been obliged to reduce three of those
lancet lights, and do not get the ventilation. It is as much or more
concern to the poor than it is to the rich, that they should have a
proper ventilation; and there have been many windows stopped up
(which ought not to have been taken) in consequence of the recent
survey, and which I am sure the Legislature never intended should be
taken."

But, in addition to these indirect methods for improving buildings, it is surely not beyond our legislative ability to devise some very simple regulations, at least of that kind which are to have a prospective application. I do not like to speak confidently about the merits of the Government Bill, introduced this session, because it requires so much technical knowledge to judge of these matters; but the main provisions for back-yards or open spaces attached to dwelling houses, and for the areas to lowermost rooms, appear to me well considered. This Bill applies only to the metropolis. The working, however, of local improvement Acts may afford the best kind of evidence to prepare a general measure upon. When the subject was considered in Committee in 1842, the Corporation of London sent a witness who showed that if a certain regulation, embodied in the Bill they were then considering, were carried into effect, it would, in some instances, not only injure property, but prevent improvement. Partial objections of this nature, which after all may be very slight things, often prevent most useful measures from being carried. But why should there not be a discretionary power vested somewhere to relax any provision which, in particular cases, might be found harsh or inapplicable? This power might be given to a central office, or to local boards of health. Any suggestion of this kind is liable to objections; and the truth is, that to introduce sanitary provisions into a state of things not prepared for them, must at first be a matter cumbered with difficulties; but, as Lord Lyndhurst has said, "a difficulty is a thing to be overcome." Mr. Carlyle has pointed out what a wonderful production a soldier is, still more a body of them, and all the apparatus by which they are kept in working order. And, as he goes on to argue, governments could not exist if this human fighting machine were not in good keeping, and, therefore, it is well cared for at all times. Now if governments did but perceive the importance of some regulation for the dwellings of the poor, if they looked at it only as a matter of finance (for, eventually, the state pays for all disease and distress), it is probable they would put their shoulders to the wheel, and get it out of the difficulty, at least as far as their fair share of the matter goes.

Again, the more difficulty there is in legislating on this subject, and especially if it can be shown that there is difficulty connected with it of a kind almost insuperable by mere legislative efforts, the more there remains for private individuals to do. I cannot believe but that human ingenuity, in some form or other, will be able to surmount the evil in question. The difference of expense in building a row of small cottages, back to back, which it will be hard to ventilate, and which must be without the most obvious household requisites, and that of building a row of cottages each of which shall have a yard at the back, will be about 22 per cent. upon the outlay. Where one would cost 100 pounds, which is a good price for the lowest class cottages, the other would cost 122 pounds. This calculation is independent of the cost of the additional land which would be required. It is melancholy to think that this 22 pounds, and the price of the additional land must, in thousands of cases, have determined the health and morality of the inmates. I do not mean to say that this pecuniary difference is a slight matter, but still I do think it is somehow or other to be provided for. There is always this to be considered, that the better the tenement, the more it will be cared for. In the same Committee I have mentioned before, the Town Clerk of Leeds is asked:

"Would not the building of the better kind of cottages always secure
the best tenants?--Unquestionably.

"And the person who invested the property in buildings of that kind
would rather take six per cent. of good tenants than seven per cent.
of bad ones?--Yes; we have a number of instances in Leeds. There is
a gentleman named Croysdill, who has 200 or 300 cottages; he receives
the lowest rents on an average of any large proprietor of cottages,
and they are unquestionably the most comfortable dwellings, and the
best occupied."

It may be a strong thing to say, but I can conceive it possible, in a Christian country, for a man to restrain himself from making the utmost profit out of his possessions. I can imagine, for instance, an owner of land in a town being unwilling to demand such a price for it, as would prevent the cottages of the labouring people from being built with those comforts and conveniences upon which civilization may almost be said to depend. A man may think that there is some responsibility attached to ownership; and he may not like to be in any way accessory to the building of such habitations for the poor as he thoroughly disapproves of. And if the owner of land feels this, still more may the capitalist who undertakes to build upon it. It may be a satisfactory thing to collect in any way much money; but I think, on the other hand, that most men have a great pleasure in doing anything well, in a workmanlike and stable manner. And, strange as it may seem, it is very possible that motives of profit and loss may not be the only ones which have led to such miserable building, as is often to be seen in the houses of the poor. People have not thought about the matter. If they had seen the merit of building good houses of a small kind, I think that in many cases, the additional money required would not have stood in the way. In the Select Committee of 1842, the following questions are asked of a witness from Liverpool:

"Is Liverpool a town which has a considerable quantity of land which
may be made available for the purpose of erecting houses?--There is a
good deal of land in the suburbs.

"The corporation possess a good deal of land?--They do.

* * * * *

"Have you had under your consideration the provisions of what is
called Lord Normanby's Act, by which it is forbidden to build houses
back to back?--Yes.

"What were the reasons which induced the Corporation of Liverpool not
to object to houses being so built?--If houses were not to be built
back to back there would be a great sacrifice of land."

I do not bring this evidence forward to censure that corporation, but rather to excuse private persons in some measure, by showing the general unconcern and ignorance about the subject. It appears that even a corporate body, who might be expected to discern the value of public health and morals, and not to be subdued by the prospect of immediate and apparent gain, have at least not made any endeavour to introduce a good system of building cottages for the poor of their own town. Not that they, probably, were in the slightest degree, more mercenary than other men; but it is only an instance to show how little attention has hitherto been given to this subject.