The wages are similar in the Burnley district, where food, drink, and dress absorb the greater part of the workpeople's earnings. In this, as in other factory districts, "the practice of young persons (mill-workers) boarding with their parents is prevalent, and is very detrimental to parental authority." Another reporter says, "Wages are increasing: as there is more money, and more time to spend it in, sobriety is not on the increase, especially amongst females."

The operatives employed in the woollen manufacture receive about forty shillings a week, and some as much as sixty,[1] besides the amount earned by their children.

A good mechanic in an engine shop makes from thirty-five to forty-five shillings a week, and some mechanics make much larger wages. Multiply these figures, and it will be found that they amount to an annual income of from a hundred to a hundred and twenty pounds a year.

[Footnote 1: See the above Blue Book, p. 57, certifying the wages paid by Bliss and Son, of Chipping Norton Woollen Factory.]

But the colliers and iron-workers are paid much higher wages. One of the largest iron-masters recently published in the newspapers the names of certain colliers in his employment who were receiving from four to five pounds a week,—or equal to an annual income of from two hundred to two hundred and fifty pounds a year.[1]

[Footnote 1: Richard Fothergill, Esq., M.P. He published a subsequent letter, from which we extract the following:—

"No doubt such earnings seem large to clerks, and educated men, who after receiving a costly education have often to struggle hard for bread; but they are nevertheless the rightful earnings of steady manual labour; and I have the pleasure of adding that, while all steady, well-disposed colliers, in good health, could make equally good wages, many hundreds in South Wales are quietly doing as much or more: witness a steady collier in my employment, with his two sons living at home, whose monthly pay ticket has averaged L30 for the past twelvemonth.

"Another steady collier within my information, aided by his son, h as earned during the past five months upwards of L20 a month on the average, and from his manual labour as an ordinary collier—for it is of the working colliers and firemen I am speaking all along—he has built fifteen good houses, and, disregarding all menaces, he continues his habits of steady industry, whereby he hopes to accumulate an independence for his family in all events."]

Iron-workers are paid a still higher rate of wages. A plate-roller easily makes three hundred a year.[2] The rollers in rail mills often make much more. In busy times they have made as much as from seven to ten guineas a week, or equal to from three to five hundred a year.[3] But, like the workers in cotton mills, the iron workers are often helped by their sons, who are also paid high wages. Thus, the under-hands are usually boys from fourteen years of age and upwards, who earn about nineteen shillings a week, and the helpers are boys of under fourteen, who earn about nine shillings a week.

[Footnote 2: See Messrs. Fox, Head, and Co.'s return, in the Blue Book above referred to. This was the rate of wages at Middlesborough, in Yorkshire. In South Wales, the wages of the principal operatives engaged in the iron manufacture, recently, were—Puddlers. 9s. a day; first heaters on the rail mills. 8s. 9d. a day: second heaters, 11s. 7d.: roughers, 10s. 9d.: rollers, 13s. 2d., or equal to that amount.]

[Footnote 3: Even at the present time, when business is so much depressed, the mill-rollers make an average wage of L5 10s. a week.]

These earnings are far above the average incomes of the professional classes. The rail rollers are able to earn a rate of pay equal to that of Lieutenant-Colonels in Her Majesty's Foot Guards; plate-rollers equal to that of Majors of Foot; and roughers equal to that of Lieutenants and Adjutants.

Goldsmith spoke of the country curate as "passing rich with forty pounds a year." The incomes of curates have certainly increased since the time when Goldsmith wrote, but nothing like the incomes of skilled and unskilled workmen. If curates merely worked for money, they would certainly change their vocation, and become colliers and iron-workers.

When the author visited Renfrewshire a few years ago, the colliers were earning from ten to fourteen shillings a day. According to the common saying, they were "making money like a minting machine." To take an instance, a father and three sons were earning sixty pounds a month,—or equal to a united income of more than seven hundred pounds a year. The father was a sober, steady, "eident" man. While the high wages lasted, he was the first to enter the pit in the morning, and the last to leave it at night. He only lost five days in one year (1873-4),—the loss being occasioned by fast-days and holidays. Believing that the period of high wages could not last long, he and his sons worked as hard as they could. They saved a good deal of money, and bought several houses; besides educating themselves to occupy higher positions.

In the same neighbourhood, another collier, with four sons, was earning money at about the same rate per man, that is about seventy-five-pounds a mouth, or nine hundred pounds a year. This family bought five houses within a year, and saved a considerable sum besides. The last information we had respecting them was that the father had become a contractor,—that he employed about sixty colliers and "reddsmen,"[1] and was allowed so much for every ton of coals brought to bank. The sons were looking after their father's interests. They were all sober, diligent, sensible men; and took a great deal of interest in the education and improvement of the people in their neighbourhood.

[Footnote 1: "Reddsmen" are the men who clear the way for the colliers. They "redd up" the debris, and build up the roof (in the long wall system) as the colliery advances.]

At the same time that these two families of colliers were doing so well, it was very different with the majority of their fellow-workmen. These only worked about three days in every week. Some spent their earnings at the public-house; others took a whisky "ploy" at the seaside. For that purpose they hired all the gigs, droskies, cabs, or "machines," about a fortnight beforehand. The results were seen, as the successive Monday mornings come round. The magistrate sat in the neighbouring town, where a number of men and women, with black eyes and broken heads, were brought before him for judgment. Before the time of high wages, the Court-house business was got through in an hour: sometimes there was no business at all. But when the wages were doubled, the magistrate could scarcely get through the business in a day. It seemed as if high wages meant more idleness, more whisky, and more broken heads and faces.

These were doubtless "roaring times" for the colliers, who, had they possessed the requisite self-denial, might have made little fortunes. Many of the men who worked out the coal remained idle three or four days in the week; while those who burnt the coal, were famished and frozen for want of it. The working people who were not colliers, will long remember that period as the time of the coal famine. While it lasted, Lord Elcho went over to Tranent—a village in East Lothian—to address the colliers upon their thriftlessness, their idleness, and their attempted combinations to keep up the price of coal.

He had the moral courage—a quality much wanted in these days—to tell his constituents some hard but honest truths. He argued with them about the coal famine, and their desire to prolong it. They were working three days a week, and idling the other days. Some of them did not do a stroke of work during a week or a fortnight; others were taking about a hundred Bank holidays yearly. But what were they doing with the money they earned? Were they saving it for a rainy day; or, when the "roaring times" no longer existed, were they preparing to fall back upon the poor-rates? He found that in one case a man, with his two sons, was earning seven pounds in a fortnight. "I should like," he said, "to see those Scotchmen who are in the mining business taking advantage of these happy times, and endeavouring by their industry to rise from their present position—to exercise self-help, to acquire property, and possibly to become coal masters themselves."

It had been said in a newspaper, that a miner was earning wages equal to that of a Captain, and that a mining boy was earning wages equal to that of a Lieutenant in Her Majesty's service. "I only know," said Lord Elcho, "that I have a boy who, when he first joined Her Majesty's service, was an Ensign, and that his wage—to earn which, remember, he had, under the purchase system, to pay five hundred pounds,—was not the wage you are now receiving, but the wage which you were receiving in bad times,—and that was only five shillings a day." It might be said that the collier risks his life in earning his wages; but so does the soldier; and the gallant boy to whom Lord Elcho referred, afterwards lost his life in the Ashantee campaign.

The times of high wages did not leave a very good impression on the public mind. Prices became higher, morals became lower, and the work done was badly done. There was a considerable deterioration in the character of British workmanship. "We began to rely too much upon the foreigner. Trade was to a large extent destroyed, and an enormous loss of capital was sustained, both by the workmen and by the masters. Lord Aberdare was of opinion that three millions sterling were lost by the workmen alone, during the recent strike in South Wales. One hundred and twenty thousand workmen were in enforced idleness at once, and one hundred and fifty thousand pounds were lost every week in wages during the time that they remained idle.

What the employers think of the recent flash of "prosperity," can easily be imagined. But it may not be unnecessary to quote some of the statements of correspondents. A large employer of labour in South Lancashire says: "Drunkenness increases, and personal violence is not sufficiently discouraged. High wages and household suffrage came upon the people before education had prepared them for the change."

In a large iron-work near Newcastle, where the men were paid the highest wages for rolling plates and rails—and where they were earning between three and four hundred pounds a year—the proprietors observe: "Except in a few instances, we are afraid that workmen and their families spend most of their earnings." Another employer in South Staffordshire says: In the majority of cases, the men employed in the iron-work spend the whole of their wages before the end of the following week. There are, of course, some exceptions; but they are, unhappily, very few." Another, in South Wales, says: "As to the thrifty habits of the men, a small minority are careful and saving; they generally invest their money in cottage property. But the great majority of the men spend their money often before they earn it, and that in the most reckless way. Large sums are spent in drink: this leads to idleness; and, owing to drinking and idling, the works are kept short of men until about Wednesday in each week, when the greater part of the most idly disposed have become sobered down. Of course, when wages are low, the men work more regularly. There is less drinking, and altogether the condition of the place is healthier in every respect both in a moral and physical sense."

Another observer remarks, that the miners of Bilston are about six thousand in number, and they spend more than fifty thousand pounds annually in the purchase of ale and liquors. Their improvidence may be studied with advantage in the Bilston Market. No other market is supplied with finer poultry, or comparatively to the population, in greater abundance; and this is chiefly, if not entirely, for, the consumption of the labouring classes,—for the resident inhabitants, not directly associated with those classes are few in number. Sordid and ill-favoured men may there be seen buying on Saturday, chickens, ducks, and geese, which they eat for supper; and in some instances, bottled porter and wine. Yet, so little have they beforehand in the world, that if the works were to stop, they would begin within a fortnight to pawn the little furniture of their cottages, and their clothes, for subsistence and for drink.

Mr. Chambers, of Edinburgh, in his description of the working classes of Sunderland makes these remarks: "With deep sorrow I mention that everywhere one tale was told. Intemperance prevails to a large extent; good wages are squandered on mean indulgences; there is little care for the morrow, and the workhouse is the ultimate refuge. One man, a skilled worker in an iron-foundry, was pointed out as having for years received a wage of one guinea a day, or six guineas a week; he had spent all, mostly in drink, and was now reduced to a lower department at a pound a week."

Another illustration occurs. A clerk at Blackburn took a house for twenty pounds a year, and sublet the cellars underneath to a factory operative at a rental of five pounds a year. The clerk had a wife, four children, and a servant; the operative had a wife and five children. The clerk and his family were well dressed, their children went to school, and all went to church on Sundays. The operative's family went, some to the factory, others to the gutter, but none to school; they were ill-dressed, excepting on Sundays, when they obtained their clothes from the pawnshop. As the Saturdays came round, the frying-pan in the cellar was almost constantly at work until Monday night; and as regularly as Thursday arrived, the bundle of clothes was sent to the pawnshop. Yet the income of the upper-class family in the higher part of the house was a hundred a year; and the income of the lower class family in the cellar was fifty pounds more—that is, a hundred and fifty pounds a year!

An employer in the same neighbourhood used to say, "I cannot afford lamb, salmon, young ducks and green peas, new potatoes, strawberries and such-like, until after my hands have been consuming these delicacies of the season for some three or four weeks."

The intense selfishness, thriftlessness, and folly of these highly paid operatives, is scarcely credible. Exceptions are frequently taken to calling the working classes "the lower orders;" but "the lower orders" they always will be, so long as they indicate such sensual indulgence and improvidence. In cases such as these, improvidence is not only a great sin, and a feeder of sin, but it is a great cruelty. In the case of the father of a family, who has been instrumental in bringing a number of helpless beings into the world, it is heartless and selfish in the highest degree to spend money on personal indulgences such as drink, which do the parent no good, and the mother and the children, through the hereditary bad example, an irreparable amount of mischief. The father takes sick, is thrown out of work, and his children are at once deprived of the means of subsistence. The reckless parent has not even taken the precaution to enter a Provident or a Benefit Society; and while he is sick, his wife and children are suffering the pangs of hunger. Or, he dies; and the poor creatures are thrown upon the charity of strangers, or on the miserable pittance wrung from the poor-rates.

It would seem to be of little use preaching up an extension of rights to a people who are so supinely indifferent to their own well-being,—who are really unconcerned about their own elevation. The friends of the industrious should faithfully tell them that they must exercise prudence, economy, and self-denial, if they would really be raised from selfish debasement, and become elevated to the dignity of thinking beings. It is only by practising the principles of self-dependence that they can achieve dignity, stability, and consideration in society; or that they can acquire such influence and power as to raise them in the scale of social well-being.

Brown, the Oxford shoemaker, was of opinion that "a good mechanic is the most independent man in the world." At least he ought to be such. He has always a market for his skill; and if he be ordinarily diligent, sober, and intelligent, he may be useful, healthy, and happy. With a thrifty use of his means, he may, if he earns from thirty to forty shillings a week, dress well, live well, and educate his children creditably.

Hugh Miller never had more than twenty-four shillings a week while working as a journeyman stonemason, and here is the result of his fifteen years' experience:—

"Let me state, for it seems to be very much the fashion to draw dolorous pictures of the condition of the labouring classes, that from the close of the first year in which I worked as a journeyman until I took final leave of the mallet and chisel, I never knew what it was to want a shilling; that my two uncles, my grandfather, and the mason with whom I served my apprenticeship—all working men—had had a similar experience; and that it was the experience of my father also. I cannot doubt that deserving mechanics may, in exceptional cases, be exposed to want; but I can as little doubt that the cases are exceptional, and that much of the suffering of the class is a consequence either of improvidence on the part of the competently skilled, or of a course of trifling during the term of apprenticeship, quite as common as trifling at school, that always lands those who indulge in it in the hapless position of the inferior workman."

It is most disheartening to find that so many of the highest paid workmen in the kingdom should spend so large a portion of their earnings in their own personal and sensual gratification. Many spend a third, and others half their entire earnings, in drink. It would be considered monstrous, on the part of any man whose lot has been cast among the educated classes to exhibit such a degree of selfish indulgence; and to spend even one-fourth of his income upon objects in which his wife and children have no share.

Mr. Roolmck recently asked, at a public meeting,[1] "Why should the mail who makes L200 or L300 a year by his mechanical labour, be a rude, coarse, brutal fellow? There is no reason why he should be so.

[Footnote 1: Meeting of the Mechanics' Institutes at Dewsbury, Yorkshire.]

Why should he not be like a gentleman? Why should not his house be like my house? When I go home from my labour, what do I find? I find a cheerful wife—I find an elegant, educated woman. I have a daughter; she is the same. Why should not you find the same happy influences at home? I want to know, when the working man comes from his daily labour to his home, why he should not find his table spread as mine is spread; why he should not find his wife well dressed, cleanly, loving, kind, and his daughter the same?... We all know that many working men, earning good wages, spend their money in the beerhouse and in drunkenness, instead of in clothing their wives and families. Why should not these men spend their wages as I spend my small stipend, in intellectual pleasures, in joining with my family in intellectual pursuits? Why should not working men, after enjoying their dinners and thanking God for what they have got, turn their attention to intellectual enjoyments, instead of going out to get drunk in the nearest pothouse! Depend on it these things ought to go to the heart of a working man; and he is not a friend to the working man who talks to him and makes him believe that he is a great man in the State, and who don't tell him what are the duties of his position."

It is difficult to account for the waste and extravagance of working people. It must be the hereditary remnant of the original savage. It must be a survival. The savage feasts and drinks until everything is gone; and then he hunts or goes to war. Or it may be the survival of slavery in the State. Slavery was one of the first of human institutions. The strong man made the weak man work for him. The warlike race subdued the less warlike race, and made them their slaves. Thus slavery existed from the earliest times. In Greece and Rome the righting was done by freemen, the labour by helots and bondsmen. But slavery also existed in the family. The wife was the slave of her husband as much as the slave whom he bought in the public market.

Slavery long existed among ourselves. It existed when Caesar lauded. It existed in Saxon times, when the household work was done by slaves. The Saxons were notorious slave-dealers, and the Irish were their best customers. The principal mart was at Bristol, from whence the Saxons exported large numbers of slaves into Ireland so that, according to Irish historians, there was scarcely a house in Ireland without a British slave in it.

When the Normans took possession of England, they continued slavery. They made slaves of the Saxons themselves whom they decreed villeins and bondsmen. Domesday Book shows that the toll of the market at Lewes in Sussex was a penny for a cow, and fourpence for a slave—not a serf (adscriptus glebae), but an unconditional bondsman. From that time slavery continued in various forms. It is recorded of "the good old times," that it was not till the reign of Henry IV. (1320—1413) that villeins, farmers, and mechanics were permitted by law to put their children to school; and long after that, they dared not educate a son for the Church without a licence from the lord.[1] The Kings of England, in their contests with the feudal aristocracy, gradually relaxed the slave laws. They granted charters founding Royal Burghs; and when the slaves fled into them, and were able to conceal themselves for a year and a day, they then became freemen of the burgh, and were declared by law to be free.

[Footnote 1: Henry's History of England, Book v., chap. 4]

The last serfs in England were emancipated in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; but the last serfs in Scotland, were not emancipated until the reign of George III, at the end of last century. Before then, the colliers and salters belonged to the soil. They were bought and sold with it. They had no power to determine what their wages should be. Like the slaves in the Southern States of America, they merely accepted such sustenance as was sufficient to maintain their muscles and sinews in working order.

They were never required to save for any purpose, for they had no right to their own savings. They did not need to provide for to-morrow; their masters provided for them. The habit of improvidence was thus formed; and it still continues. The Scotch colliers, who were recently earning from ten to fourteen shillings a day, are the grandsons of men who were slaves down to the end of last century. The preamble of an Act passed in 1799 (39th Geo. III., c. 56), runs as follows: "Whereas, before the passing of an Act of the fifteenth of his present Majesty, many colliers, coal-bearers, and salters were bound for life to, and transferable with, the collieries and salt-works where they worked, but by the said Act their bondage was taken off and they were declared to be free, notwithstanding which many colliers and coalbearers and salters still continue in a state of bondage from not having complied with the provisions, or from having become subject to the penalties of that Act," etc. The new Act then proceeds to declare them free from servitude. The slaves formerly earned only enough to keep them, and laid by nothing whatever for the future. Hence we say that the improvidence of the colliers, as of the iron-workers, is but a survival of the system of slavery in our political constitution.

Matters have now become entirely different. The workman, no matter what his trade, is comparatively free. The only slavery from which he suffers, is his passion for drink. In this respect he still resembles the Esquimaux and the North American Indians. Would he be really free? Then he must exercise the powers of a free, responsible man. He must exercise self-control and self-constraint,—and sacrifice present personal gratifications for prospective enjoyments of a much higher kind. It is only by self-respect and self-control that the position of the workman can be really elevated.

The working man is now more of a citizen than he ever was before. He is a recognized power, and has been admitted within the pale of the constitution. For him mechanics' institutes, newspapers, benefit societies, and all the modern agencies of civilization, exist in abundance. He is admitted to the domain of intellect; and, from time to time, great thinkers, artists, engineers, philosophers, and poets, rise up from his order, to proclaim that intellect is of no rank, and nobility of no exclusive order. The influences of civilization are rousing society to its depths; and daily evidences are furnished of the rise of the industrious classes to a position of social power. Discontent may, and does, exhibit itself; but discontent is only the necessary condition of improvement; for a man will not be stimulated to rise up into a higher condition unless he be first made dissatisfied with the lower condition out of which he has to rise. To be satisfied is to repose; while, to be rationally dissatisfied, is to contrive, to work, and to act, with an eye to future advancement.

The working classes very much under-estimate themselves. Though they receive salaries or wages beyond the average earnings of professional men, yet many of them have no other thought than that of living in mean houses, and spending their surplus time and money in drink. They seem wanting in respect for themselves as well as for their class. They encourage the notion that there is something degrading in labour,—than which nothing can be more false. Labour of all kinds is dignifying and honourable; it is the idler, above all others, who is undignified and dishonourable.

"Let the working man," says Mr. Sterling, "try to connect his daily task, however mean, with the highest thoughts he can apprehend, and he thereby secures the rightfulness of his lot, and is raising his existence to his utmost good. It is because the working man has failed to do this, and because others have failed to help him as they ought, that the lot of labour has hitherto been associated with what is mean and degrading."

With respect to remuneration, the average of skilled mechanics and artisans, as we have already said, are better paid than the average of working curates. The working engineer is better paid than the ensign in a marching regiment. The foreman in any of our large engineering establishments is better paid than an army surgeon. The rail-roller receives over a guinea a day, while an assistant navy surgeon receives fourteen shillings, and after three years' service, twenty-one shillings, with rations. The majority of dissenting ministers are much worse paid than the better classes of skilled mechanics and artizans; and the average of clerks employed in counting-houses and warehouses receive wages very much lower.

Skilled workmen might—and, if they had the will, they would—occupy a social position as high as the educated classes we refer to. What prevents them rising? Merely because they will not use their leisure to cultivate their minds. They have sufficient money; it is culture that they want. They ought to know that the position of men in society does not depend so much upon their earnings, as upon their character and intelligence. And it is because they neglect their abundant opportunities,—because they are thriftless and spend their earnings in animal enjoyments,—because they refuse to cultivate the highest parts of their nature,—that they are excluded, or rather self-excluded, from those social and other privileges in which they are entitled to take part.

Notwithstanding their high wages, they for the most part cling to the dress, the language, and the manners of their class. They appear, during their leisure hours, in filthy dresses, and unwashed hands. No matter how skilled the workman may be, he is ready to sink his mind and character to the lowest level of his co-workers. Even the extra money which he earns by his greater skill, often contributes to demoralize and degrade him. And yet he might dress as well, live as well, and be surrounded by the physical comforts and intellectual luxuries of professional men. But no! From week to week his earnings are wasted. He does not save a farthing; he is a public-house victim; and when work becomes slack, and his body becomes diseased, his only refuge is the workhouse.

How are these enormous evils to be cured? Some say by better education; others by moral and religious instruction; others by better homes, and better wives and mothers. All these influences will doubtless contribute much towards the improvement of the people. One thing is perfectly clear, that an immense amount of ignorance prevails, and that such ignorance must be dissipated before the lower classes can be elevated. Their whole character must be changed, and they must be taught in early life habits of forecast and self-control.

We often hear that "Knowledge is Power;" but we never hear that Ignorance is Power. And yet Ignorance has always had more power in the world than Knowledge. Ignorance dominates. It is because of the evil propensities of men that the costly repressive institutions of modern governments exist.

Ignorance arms men against each other; provides gaols and penitentiaries; police and constabulary. All the physical force of the State is provided by Ignorance; is required by Ignorance; is very often wielded by Ignorance. We may well avow, then, that Ignorance is Power.

Ignorance is powerful, because Knowledge, as yet, has obtained access only to the minds of the few. Let Knowledge become more generally diffused; let the multitude become educated, thoughtful, and wise; and then Knowledge may obtain the ascendancy over Ignorance. But that time has not yet arrived.

Look into the records of crime, and you will find that, for one man possessed of wisdom or knowledge who commits a crime, there are a hundred ignorant. Or, into the statistics of drunkenness and improvidence of all sorts; still Ignorance is predominant. Or, into the annals of pauperism; there, again, Ignorance is Power.

The principal causes of anxiety in this country, are the social suffering and disease which proceed from Ignorance. To mitigate these, we form associations, organize societies, spend money, and labour in committees. But the power of Ignorance is too great for us. We almost despair while we work. We feel that much of our effort is wasted. We are often ready to give up in dismay, and recoil from our encounter with the powers of evil.

"How forcible are right words!" exclaimed Job. Yes! But, with equal justice, he might have said, "How forcible are wrong words!" The wrong words have more power with ignorant minds than the right words. They fit themselves into wrong heads, and prejudiced heads, and empty heads; and have power over them. The right words have often no meaning for them, any more than if they were the words of some dead language. The wise man's thoughts do not reach the multitude, but fly over their heads. Only the few as yet apprehend them.

The physiologist may discuss the laws of health, and the Board of Health may write tracts for circulation among the people; but half the people cannot so much as read; and of the remaining half, but a very small proportion are in the habit of thinking. Thus the laws of health are disregarded; and when fever comes, it finds a wide field to work upon: in undrained and filthy streets and back-yards,—noisome, pestilential districts,—foul, uncleansed dwellings,—large populations ill-supplied with clean water and with pure air. There death makes fell havoc; many destitute widows and children have to be maintained out of the poor's-rates; and then we reluctantly confess to ourselves that Ignorance is Power.

The only method of abating this power of Ignorance, is by increasing that of Knowledge. As the sun goes up the sky, the darkness disappears; and the owl, the bat, and the beasts of prey, slink out of sight. Give the people knowledge,—give them better education,—and thus, crime will be abated,—drunkenness, improvidence, lawlessness, and all the powers of evil, will, to a certain extent, disappear.[1]

[Footnote 1: The recent reports of Mr. Tremenheere to the Secretary of State for the Home Department, with respect to the condition of the population in the iron and coal districts, show that he places considerable reliance upon the effect of Education. The evidence which he brought together from all parts of the country, shows that the increase of immorality with the increase of wages was attributed to the low tastes and desires of the people.—that the obstinate refusal of the men to exert more than two-thirds of their fair powers of work, by which the cost of production is largely enhanced, capital crippled, and the public mulcted, was due to the same cause,—that their readiness to become the prey of unionists and agitators is traceable to their want of the most elementary principles of thought,—that most of the accidents, which are of weekly occurrence, are occasioned by their stupidity and ignorance,—that wherever they have advanced in intelligence, they have become more skilful, more subordinate, and more industrious. These facts have convinced the more thoughtful and far-sighted masters, that the only sure means of maintaining their ground under increasing foreign competition, and averting a social crisis, is to reform the character of the rising generation of operatives by education,]

It must, however, be admitted that education is not enough. The clever man may be a clever rogue; and the cleverer he is, the cleverer rogue he will be. Education, therefore, must be based upon religion and morality; for education by itself will not eradicate vicious propensities. Culture of intellect has but little effect upon moral conduct. You may see clever, educated, literary men, with no conduct whatever,—wasteful, improvident, drunken, and vicious. It follows, therefore, that education must be based upon the principles of religion and morality.

Nor has the poverty of the people so much to do with their social degradation as is commonly supposed. The question is essentially a moral one. If the income of the labouring community could be suddenly doubled, their happiness will not necessarily be increased; for happiness does not consist in money. In fact, the increased wages might probably prove a curse instead of a blessing. In the case of many, there would be an increased consumption of drink, with the usual results,—an increase of drunken violence, and probably an increase of crime.

The late Mr. Clay, chaplain of the Preston House of Correction, after characterizing drunkenness as the GREAT SIN, proceeds: "It still rises in savage hostility, against everything allied to order and religion; it still barricades every avenue by which truth and peace seek to enter the poor man's home and heart.... Whatever may be the predominant cause of crime, it is very clear that ignorance, religious ignorance, is the chief ingredient in the character of the criminal. This combines with the passion for liquor, and offences numberless are engendered by the union."

The late Sir Arthur Helps, when speaking of high and low wages, and of the means of getting and spending money, thus expresses himself on the subject, in his "Friends in Council":"My own conviction is, that throughout England every year there is sufficient wages given, even at the present low rate, to make the condition of the labouring poor quite different from what it is. But then these wages must be well spent. I do not mean that the poor could of themselves alone effect this change; but were they seconded by the advice, the instruction, and the aid (not given in money, or only in money lent to produce the current interest of the day) of the classes above them, the rest the poor might accomplish for themselves. And, indeed, all that the rich could do to elevate the poor could hardly equal the advantage that would be gained by the poor themselves, if they could thoroughly subdue that one vice of drunkenness, the most wasteful of all the vices.

"In the living of the poor (as indeed of all of us) there are two things to be considered; how to get money, and how to spend it. Now, I believe, the experience of employers will bear me out in saying, that it is frequently found that the man with 20s. a week does not live more comfortably, or save more, than the man with 14s.,—the families of the two men being the same in number and general circumstances. It is probable that unless he have a good deal of prudence and thought, the man who gets at all more than the average of his class does not know what to do with it, or only finds in it a means superior to that which his fellows possess of satisfying his appetite for drinking."

Notwithstanding, however, the discouraging circumstances to which we have referred, we must believe that in course of time, as men's nature becomes improved by education—secular, moral, and religious—they may be induced to make a better use of their means, by considerations of prudence, forethought, and parental responsibility. A German writer speaks of the education given to a child as a capital—equivalent to a store of money—placed at its disposal by the parent. The child, when grown to manhood, may employ the education, as he might employ the money, badly; but that is no argument against the possession of either. Of course, the value of education, as of money, chiefly consists in its proper use. And one of the advantages of knowledge is, that the very acquisition of it tends to increase the capability of using it aright; which is certainly not the case with the accumulation of money.

Education, however obtained, is always an advantage to a man. Even as a means of material advancement, it is worthy of being sought after,—not to speak of its moral uses as an elevator of character and intelligence. And if, as Dr. Lyon Playfair insists, the composition between industrial nations must before long become a competition mainly of intelligence, it is obvious that England must make better provision for the education of its industrial classes, or be prepared to fall behind in the industrial progress of nations.

"It would be of little avail," said Dr. Brewster of Edinburgh, "to the peace and happiness of society, if the great truths of the material world were confined to the educated and the wise. The organization of science thus limited would cease to be a blessing. Knowledge secular, and knowledge divine, the double current of the intellectual life-blood of man, must not merely descend through the great arteries of the social frame; it must be taken up by the minutest capillaries before it can nourish and purify society. Knowledge is at once the manna and the medicine of our moral being. Where crime is the bane, knowledge is the antidote. Society may escape from the pestilence and may survive the famine; but the demon of ignorance, with his grim adjutants of vice and riot, will pursue her into her most peaceful haunts, destroying our institutions, and converting into a wilderness the paradise of social and domestic life. The State has, therefore, a great duty to perform. As it punishes crime, it is bound to prevent it. As it subjects us to laws, it must teach us to read them; and while it thus teaches, it must teach also the ennobling truths which display the power and the wisdom of the great Lawgiver, thus diffusing knowledge while it is extending education; and thus making men contented, and happy, and humble, while it makes them quiet and obedient subjects."

A beginning has already been made with public school education. Much still remains to be done to establish the system throughout the empire. At present we are unable to judge of the effects of what has been done. But if general education accomplish as much for England as it has already accomplished for Germany, the character of this country will be immensely improved during the next twenty years. Education has almost banished drunkenness from Germany; and had England no drunkenness, no thriftlessness, no reckless multiplication, our social miseries would be comparatively trivial.

We must therefore believe that as intelligence extends amongst the working class, and as a better moral tone pervades them, there will be a rapid improvement in their sober, thrifty and provident habits; for these form the firmest and surest foundations for social advancement. There is a growing desire, on the part of the more advanced minds in society, to see the working men take up their right position. They who do society's work,—who produce, under the direction of the most intelligent of their number, the wealth of the nation,—are entitled to a much higher place than they have yet assumed. We believe in this "good time coming," for working men and women,—when an atmosphere of intelligence shall pervade them—when they will prove themselves as enlightened, polite, and independent as the other classes of society; and, as the first and surest step towards this consummation, we counsel them to PROVIDE—to provide for the future as well as for the present—to provide, in times of youth and plenty, against the times of adversity, misfortune, and old age.

"If any one intends to improve his condition," said the late William Felkin, Mayor of Nottingham, himself originally a working man, "he must earn all he can, spend as little as he can, and make what he does spend, bring him and his family all the real enjoyment he can. The first saving which a working man makes out of his earnings is the first step,—and because it is the first, the most important step towards true independence. Now independence is as practicable in the case of an industrious and economic, though originally poor, workman, as in that of the tradesman or merchant,—and is as great and estimable a blessing. The same process must be attended to,—that is, the entire expenditure being kept below the clear income, all contingent claims being carefully considered and provided for, and the surplus held sacred, to be employed for those purposes, and those only, which duty or conscience may point out as important or desirable. This requires a course of laborious exertion and strict economy, a little foresight, and possibly some privation. But this is only what is common to all desirable objects. And inasmuch as I know what it is to labour with the hands long hours, and for small wages, as well as any workman to whom I address myself, and to practise self-denial withal, I am emboldened to declare from experience that the gain of independence, or rather self-dependence, for which I plead, is worth infinitely more than all the cost of its attainment; and, moreover, that to attain it in a greater or less degree, according to circumstances, is within the power of by far the greater number of skilled workmen engaged in our manufactories."



CHAPTER V.

EXAMPLES OF THRIFT.

"Examples demonstrate the possibility of success."—Cotton.

_"The force of his own merit, makes his way."—_Shakespeare._

"Reader, attend, whether thy soul Soars Fancy's flight beyond the Pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole In low pursuit— Know, prudent, cautious self-control, Is wisdom's root."—Burns.

"In the family, as in the State, the best source of wealth is Economy."—Cicero.

"Right action is the result of right faith; but a true and right faith cannot be sustained, deepened, extended, save in a course of right action."—M'Combie.

Thrift is the spirit of order applied to domestic management and organization. Its object is to manage frugally the resources of the family; to prevent waste; and avoid useless expenditure. Thrift is under the influence of reason and forethought, and never works by chance or by fits. It endeavours to make the most and the best of everything. It does not save money for saving's sake. It makes cheerful sacrifices for the present benefit of others; or it submits to voluntary privation for some future good.

Mrs. Inchbald, author of the "Simple Story," was, by dint of thrift, able to set apart the half of her small income for the benefit of her infirm sister. There was thus about two pounds a week for the maintenance of each. "Many times," she says, "during the winter, when I was crying with cold, have I said to myself, 'Thank God, my dear sister need not leave her chamber; she will find her fire ready for her each morning; for she is now far less able than I am to endure privation.'" Mrs. Inchbald's family were, for the most part very poor; and she felt it right to support them during their numerous afflictions. There is one thing that may be say of Benevolence,—that it has never ruined anyone; though selfishness and dissipation have ruined thousands.

The words "Waste not, want not," carved in stone over Sir Walter Scott's kitchen fireplace at Abbotsford, expresses in a few words the secret of Order in the midst of abundance. Order is most useful in the management of everything,—of a household, of a business, of a manufactory, of an army. Its maxim is—A place for everything, and everything in its place. Order is wealth; for, whoever properly regulates the use of his income, almost doubles his resources. Disorderly persons are rarely rich; and orderly persons are rarely poor.

Order is the best manager of time; for unless work is properly arranged, Time is lost; and, once lost, it is gone for ever. Order illustrates many important subjects. Thus, obedience to the moral and natural law, is order. Respect for ourselves and our neighbours, is order. Regard for the rights and obligations of all, is order. Virtue is order. The world began with order. Chaos prevailed, before the establishment of order.

Thrift is the spirit of order in human life. It is the prime agent in private economy. It preserves the happiness of many a household. And as it is usually woman who regulates the order of the household, it is mainly upon her that the well-doing of society depends. It is therefore all the more necessary that she should early be educated in the habit and the virtue of orderliness.

The peer, the merchant, the clerk, the artizan, and the labourer, are all of the same nature, born with the same propensities and subject to similar influences. They are, it is true, born in different positions, but it rests with themselves whether they shall live their lives nobly or vilely. They may not have their choice of riches or poverty; but they have their choice of being good or evil,—of being worthy or worthless.

People of the highest position, in point of culture and education, have often as great privations to endure as the average of working people. They have often to make their incomes go much further. They have to keep up a social standing. They have to dress better; and live sufficiently well for the purpose of health. Though their income may be less than that of colliers and iron-workers, they are under the moral necessity of educating their sons and bringing them up as gentlemen, so that they may take their fair share of the world's work.

Thus, the tenth Earl of Buchan brought up a numerous family of children, one of whom afterwards rose to be Lord Chancellor of England, upon an income not exceeding two hundred a year. It is not the amount of income, so much as the good use of it, that marks the true man; and viewed in this light, good sense, good taste, and sound mental culture, are among the best of all economists.

The late Dr. Aiton said that his father brought up a still larger family on only half the income of the Earl of Buchan. The following dedication, prefixed to his work on "Clerical Economics," is worthy of being remembered: "This work is respectfully dedicated to a Father, now in the eighty-third year of his age, who, on an income which never exceeded a hundred pounds yearly, educated, out of a family of twelve children, four sons to liberal professions, and who has often sent his last shilling to each of them, in their turn, when they were at college."

The author might even cite his own case as an illustration of the advantages of thrift. His mother was left a widow, when her youngest child—the youngest of eleven—was only three weeks old. Notwithstanding a considerable debt on account of a suretyship, which was paid, she bravely met the difficulties of her position, and perseveringly overcame them. Though her income was less than that of many highly paid working men, she educated her children well, and brought them up religiously and virtuously. She put her sons in the way of doing well, and if they have not done so, it was through no fault of hers.

Hume, the historian, was a man of good family; but being a younger brother, his means were very small. His father died while he was an infant; he was brought up by his mother, who devoted herself entirely to the rearing and educating of her children. At twenty-three, young Hume went to France to prosecute his studies. "There," says he, in his Autobiography, "I laid down that plan of life which I have steadily and successfully pursued. I resolved to make a very rigid frugality supply my deficiency of fortune, to maintain unimpaired my independency, and to regard every object as contemptible, except the improvement of my talents in literature." The first book he published was a complete failure. But he went on again; composed and published another book, which was a success. But he made no money by it. He became secretary to the military embassy at Vienna and Turin; and at thirty-six he thought himself rich. These are his own words: "My appointments, with my frugality, had made me reach a fortune which I called independent, though most of my friends were inclined to smile when I said so: in short, I was now master of near a thousand pounds." Every one knows that a thousand pounds, at five per cent., means fifty pounds a year; and Hume considered himself independent with that income. His friend Adam Smith said of him: "Even in the lowest state of his fortune, his great and necessary frugality never hindered him from exercising, upon proper occasions, acts both of charity and generosity. It was a frugality founded not on avarice, but upon the love of independency."

But one of the most remarkable illustrations of Thrift is to be found in the history of the Rev. Robert Walker—the Wonderful Robert Walker, as he is still called in the district of Cumberland where he resided. He was curate of Leathwaite during the greater part of last century. The income of the curacy, at the time of his appointment (1735), was only five pounds a year. His wife brought him a fortune of forty pounds. Is it possible that he could contrive to live upon his five pounds a year, the interest of his wife's fortune, and the result of his labours as a clergyman? Yes, he contrived to do all this; and he not only lived well, though plainly, but he saved money, which he left for the benefit of his family. He accomplished all this by means of industry, frugality, and temperance.

First, about his industry. He thoroughly did the work connected with his curacy. The Sabbath was in all respects regarded by him as a holy day. After morning and evening service, he devoted the evening to reading the Scriptures and family prayer. On weekdays, he taught the children of the parish, charging nothing for the education, but only taking so much as the people chose to give him. The parish church was his school; and while the children were repeating their lessons by his side, he was, like Shenstone's schoolmistress, engaged in spinning wool. He had the right of pasturage upon the mountains for a few sheep and a couple of cows, which required his attendance. With this pastoral occupation he joined the labours of husbandry, for he rented two or three acres of land in addition to his own acre of glebe, and he also possessed a garden,—the whole of which was tilled by his own hand. The fuel of the house consisted of peat, procured by his labour from the neighbouring mosses. He also assisted his parishioners in haymaking and shearing their flocks,—in which latter art he was eminently dexterous. In return, the neighbours would present him with a haycock, or a fleece, as a general acknowledgment of his services.

After officiating as curate of Leathwaite for about twenty years, the annual value of the living was increased to seventeen pounds ten shillings. His character being already well known and highly appreciated, the Bishop of Carlisle offered Mr. Walker the appointment of the adjoining curacy of Ulpha; but he conscientiously refused it, on the ground that the annexation "would be apt to cause a general discontent among the inhabitants of both places, by either thinking themselves slighted, being only served alternately, or neglected in the duty, or attributing it to covetousness in me; all which occasions of murmuring I would willingly avoid." Yet at this time Mr. Walker had a family of eight children. He afterwards maintained one of his sons at Trinity College Dublin, until he was ready for taking Holy Orders.

The parish pastor was, of course, a most economical man. Yet no act of his life savoured in the least degree of meanness or avarice. On the other hand, his conduct throughout life displayed the greatest disinterestedness and generosity. He knew very little of luxuries, and he cared less. Tea was only used in his house for visitors. The family used milk, which was indeed far better. Excepting milk, the only other drink used in the house was water—clear water drawn from the mountain spring. The clothing of the family was comely and decent; but it was all home-made: it was simple, like their diet. Occasionally one of the mountain sheep was killed for purposes of food; and towards the end of the year, a cow was killed and salted down for provision during winter. The hide was tanned, and the leather furnished shoes for the family. By these and other means, this venerable clergyman reared his numerous family; not only preserving them, as he so affectingly says, "from wanting the necessaries of life," but affording them "an unstinted education, and the means of raising themselves in society."[1]

Many men, in order to advance themselves in the world, and to raise themselves in society, have "scorned delights and lived laborious days." They have lived humbly and frugally, in order to accomplish greater things. They have supported themselves by their hand labour, until they could support themselves by their head labour. Some may allege that this is not justifiable—that it is a sin against the proletariat to attempt to rise in the world,—that "once a cobbler always a cobbler." But, until a better system has been established, the self-application of individuals is the only method by which science and knowledge can be conquered, and the world permanently advanced.

Goethe says, "It is perfectly indifferent within what circle an honest man acts, provided he do but know how to understand and completely fill out that circle;" and again, "An honest and vigorous will could make itself a path and employ its activity to advantage under every form of society." "What is the best government?" he asks: "That which teaches us to govern ourselves!" All that we need, in his opinion, is individual liberty, and self-culture. "Let every one," he says, "only do the right in his place, without troubling himself about the turmoil of the world."

[Footnote 1: The best account of Mr. Walker is to be found in the Appendix to the Poems of Wordsworth. The poet greatly appreciated the clergyman's character, and noticed him in his "Excursion," as well as in the Notes to the Sonnets entitled "The River Duddon."]

At all events, it is not by socialism, but by individualism, that anything has been done towards the achievement of knowledge, and the advancement of society. It is the will and determination of individual men that impels the world forward in art, in science, and in all the means and methods of civilization.

Individual men are willing to deny themselves, but associated communities will not. The masses are too selfish, and fear that advantage will be taken of any sacrifices which they may be called upon to make. Hence it is amongst the noble band of resolute spirits that we look for those who raise and elevate the world, as well as themselves. The recollection of what they have done, acts as a stimulus to others. It braces the mind of man, reanimates his will, and encourages him to further exertions.

When Lord Elcho addressed the East Lothian colliers, he named several men who had raised themselves from the coalpit; and first of all he referred to Mr. Macdonald, member for Stafford. "The beginning of my acquaintance with Mr. Macdonald," he said, "was, when I was told that a miner wanted to see me in the lobby of the House of Commons. I went out and saw Mr. Macdonald, who gave me a petition from this district, which he asked me to present. I entered into conversation with him, and was much struck by his intelligence. He told me that he had begun life as a boy in the pit in Lanarkshire, and that the money he saved as a youth in the summer, he spent at Glasgow University in the winter; and that is where he got whatever book-learning or power of writing he possesses. I say that is an instance that does honour to the miners of Scotland. Another instance was that of Dr. Hogg, who began as a pitman in this county; worked in the morning, attended school in the afternoon; then went to the University for four years and to the Theological Hall for five years; and afterwards, in consequence of his health failing, he went abroad, and is now engaged as a missionary in Upper Egypt. Or take the case of Mr. (now Sir George) Elliot, member for North Durham, who has spoken up for the miners all the better, for having had practical knowledge of their work. He began as a miner in the pit, and he worked his way up till he has in his employment many thousand men. He has risen to his great wealth and station from the humblest position; as every man who now hears me is capable of doing, to a greater or less degree, if he will only be thrifty and industrious."

Lord Elcho might also have mentioned Dr. Hutton, the geologist, a man of a much higher order of genius; who was the son of a coal-viewer. Bewick, the wood engraver, is also said to have been the son of a coal-miner. Dr. Campbell was the son of a Loanhead collier: he was the forerunner of Moffat and Livingstone, in their missionary journeys among the Bechuanas in South Africa. Allan Ramsay, the poet, was also the son of a miner.

George Stephenson worked his way from the pithead to the highest position as an engineer. George began his life with industry, and when he had saved a little money, he spent it in getting a little learning. What a happy man he was, when his wages were increased to twelve shillings a week. He declared upon that occasion that he was "made a man for life!" He was not only enabled to maintain himself upon his earnings, but to help his poor parents, and to pay for his own education. When his skill had increased, and his wages were advanced to a pound a week, he immediately began, like a thoughtful, intelligent workman, to lay by his surplus money; and when he had saved his first guinea, he proudly declared to one of his colleagues that he "was now a rich man!"

And he was right. For the man who, after satisfying his wants, has something to spare, is no longer poor. It is certain that from that day Stephenson never looked back; his advance as a self-improving man was as steady as the light of sunrise. A person of large experience has indeed stated that he never knew, amongst working people, a single instance of a man having out of his small earnings laid by a pound, who had in the end become a pauper.

When Stephenson proposed to erect his first locomotive, he had not sufficient means to defray its cost. But in the course of his life as a workman, he had established a character. He was trusted. He was faithful. He was a man who could be depended on. Accordingly, when the Earl of Havensworth was informed of Stephenson's desire to erect a locomotive, he at once furnished him with the means for enabling him to carry his wishes into effect.

Watt, also, when inventing the condensing steam-engine, maintained himself by making and selling mathematical instruments. He made flutes, organs, compasses,—anything that would maintain him, until he had completed his invention. At the same time he was perfecting his own education—learning French, German, mathematics, and the principles of natural philosophy. This lasted for many years; and by the time that Watt developed his steam-engine and discovered Mathew Boulton, he had, by his own efforts, become an accomplished and scientific man.

These great workers did not feel ashamed of labouring with their hands for a living; but they also felt within themselves the power of doing head-work as well as hand-work. And while thus labouring with their hands, they went on with their inventions, the perfecting of which has proved of so much advantage to the world. Hugh Miller furnished, in his own life, an excellent instance of that practical common sense in the business of life which he so strongly recommended to others. When he began to write poetry, and felt within him the growing powers of a literary man, he diligently continued his labour as a stone-cutter.

Horace Walpole has said that Queen Caroline's patronage of Stephen Duck, the thresher poet, ruined twenty men, who all turned poets. It was not so with the early success of Hugh Miller. "There is no more fatal error," he says, "into which a working man of a literary turn can fall, than the mistake of deeming himself too good for his humble employments; and yet it is a mistake as common as it is fatal. I had already seen several poor wrecked mechanics, who, believing themselves to be poets, and regarding the manual occupation by which they could alone live in independence as beneath them, and become in consequence little better than mendicants,—too good to work for their bread, but not too good virtually to beg it; and looking upon them as beacons of warning, I determined that, with God's help, I should give their error a wide offing, and never associate the idea of meanness with an honest calling, or deem myself too good to be independent."

At the same time, a man who feels that he has some good work in him, which study and labour might yet bring out, is fully justified in denying himself, and in applying his energies to the culture of his intellect. And it is astonishing how much carefulness, thrift, the reading of books, and diligent application, will help such men onward.

The author in his boyhood knew three men who worked in an agricultural implement maker's shop. They worked in wood and iron, and made carts, ploughs, harrows, drilling-machines, and such-like articles. Somehow or other, the idea got into their heads that they might be able to do something better than making carts and harrows. They did not despise the lot of hand-labour, but they desired to use it as a step towards something better. Their wages at that time could not have exceeded from eighteen to twenty shillings a week.

Two of the young men, who worked at the same bench, contrived to save enough money to enable them to attend college during the winter. At the end of each session they went back to their hand-labour, and earned enough wages during the summer to enable them to return to their classes during the winter. The third did not adopt this course. He joined a mechanics' institute which had just been started in the town in which he lived. By attending the lectures and reading the books in the library, he acquired some knowledge of chemistry, of the principles of mechanics, and of natural philosophy. He applied himself closely, studied hard in his evening hours, and became an accomplished man.

It is not necessary to trace their history; but what they eventually arrived at, may be mentioned. Of the first two, one became the teacher and proprietor of a large public school; the other became a well-known dissenting minister; while the third, working his way strenuously and bravely, became the principal engineer and manager of the largest steamship company in the world.

Although mechanics' institutes are old institutions, they have scarcely been supported by working men. The public-house is more attractive and more frequented. And yet mechanics' institutes—even though they are scarcely known south of Yorkshire and Lancashire—have been the means of doing a great deal of good. By placing sound mechanical knowledge within the reach of even the few persons who have been disposed to take advantage of them, they have elevated many persons into positions of great social influence. "We have heard a distinguished man say publicly, that a mechanics' institution had made him; that but for the access which it had afforded him to knowledge of all kinds, he would have occupied a very different position. In short, the mechanics' institution had elevated him from the position of a licensed victualler to that of an engineer.

We have referred to the wise practice of men in humble position maintaining themselves by their trade until they saw a way towards maintaining themselves by a higher calling. Thus Herschell maintained himself by music, while pursuing his discoveries in astronomy. When playing the oboe in the pump-room at Bath, he would retire while the dancers were lounging round the room, go out and take a peep at the heavens through his telescope, and quietly return to his instrument. It was while he was thus maintaining himself by music, that he discovered the Georgium Sidus. When the Royal Society recognized his discovery, the oboe-player suddenly found himself famous.

Franklin long maintained himself by his trade of printing. He was a hard-working man,—thrifty, frugal and a great saver of time. He worked for character as much as for wages; and when it was found that he could be relied on, he prospered. At length he was publicly recognized as a great statesman, and as one of the most scientific men of his time.

Ferguson, the astronomer, lived by portrait painting, until his merits as a scientific man were recognized. John Dollond maintained himself as a silk weaver in Spitalfields. In the course of his studies he made great improvements in the refracting telescope; and the achromatic telescope, which he invented, gave him a high rank among the philosophers of his age. But during the greater part of his life, while he was carrying on his investigations, he continued, until the age of forty-six, to carry on his original trade. At length he confined himself entirely to making telescopes; and then he gave up his trade of a silk weaver. Winckelmann, the distinguished writer on classical antiquities and the fine arts, was the son of a shoemaker. His father endeavoured, as long as he could, to give his hoy a learned education; but becoming ill and worn-out, he had eventually to retire to the hospital. Winckelmann and his father were once accustomed to sing at night in the streets to raise fees to enable the boy to attend the grammar school. The younger Winckelmann then undertook, by hard labour, to support his father; and afterwards, by means of teaching, to keep himself at college. Every one knows how distinguished he eventually became.

Samuel Richardson, while writing his novels, stuck to his trade of a bookseller. He sold his books in the front shop, while he wrote them in the back. He would not give himself up to authorship, because he loved his independence. "You know," he said to his friend Defreval, "how my business engages me. You know by what snatches of time I write, that I may not neglect that, and that I may preserve that independency which is the comfort of my life. I never sought out of myself for patrons. My own industry and God's providence have been my whole reliance. The great are not great to me unless they are good, and it is a glorious privilege that a middling man enjoys, who has preserved his independency, and can occasionally (though not stoically) tell the world what he thinks of that world, in hopes to contribute, though by his mite, to mend it."

The late Dr. Olynthus Gregory, in addressing the Deptford Mechanics' Institution at their first anniversary, took the opportunity of mentioning various men in humble circumstances (some of whom he had been able to assist), who, by means of energy, application, and self-denial, had been able to accomplish great things in the acquisition of knowledge. Thus he described the case of a Labourer on the turnpike road, who had become an able Greek scholar; of a Fifer, and a Private Soldier, in a regiment of militia, both self-taught mathematicians, one of whom became a successful schoolmaster, the other a lecturer on natural philosophy; of a journeyman Tin-plate worker, who invented rules for the solution of cubic equations; of a country Sexton, who became a teacher of music, and who, by his love of the study of musical science, was transformed from a drunken sot to an exemplary husband and father; of a Coal Miner (a correspondent of Dr. Gregory's), who was an able writer on topics of the higher mathematics; of another correspondent, a labouring Whitesmith, who was also well acquainted with the course of pure mathematics, as taught at Cambridge, Dublin, and the military colleges; of a Tailor, who was an excellent geometrician, and had discovered curves which escaped the notice of Newton, and who laboured industriously and contentedly at his trade until sixty years of age, when, by the recommendation of his scientific friends, he was appointed Nautical Examiner at the Trinity House; of a ploughman in Lincolnshire, who, without aid of men or books, discovered the rotation of the earth, the principles of spherical astronomy, and invented a planetary system akin to the Tychonic; of a country Shoemaker, who became distinguished as one of the ablest metaphysical writers in Britain, and who, at more than fifty years of age, was removed by the influence of his talents and their worth, from his native country to London, where he was employed to edit some useful publications devoted to the diffusion of knowledge and the best interests of mankind.

Students of Art have had to practise self-denial in many ways. Quentin Matsys, having fallen in love with a painter's daughter, and determined to win her. Though but a blacksmith and a farrier, he studied art so diligently, and acquired so much distinction, that his mistress afterwards accepted the painter whom she had before rejected as the blacksmith. Flaxman, however, married his wife before he had acquired any distinction whatever as an artist. He was merely a skilful and promising pupil. When Sir Joshua Reynolds heard of his marriage, he exclaimed, "Flaxman is ruined for an artist!" But it was not so. When Flaxman's wife heard of the remark, she said, "Let us work and economize; I will never have it said that Ann Denbam ruined John Flaxman as an artist." They economized accordingly. To earn money, Flaxman undertook to collect the local rates; and what with art and industry, the patient, hard-working, thrifty couple, after five years of careful saving, set out for Rome together. There Flaxman studied and worked; there he improved his knowledge of art; and there he acquired the reputation of being the first of English sculptors.

The greater number of artists have sprung from humble life. If they had been born rich, they would probably never have been artists. They have had to work their way from one position to another; and to strengthen their nature by conquering difficulty. Hogarth began his career by engraving shop-bills. William Sharp began by engraving door-plates. Tassie the sculptor and medallist, began life as a stone-cutter. Having accidentally seen a collection of pictures, he aspired to become an artist and entered an academy to learn the elements of drawing. He continued to work at his old trade until he was able to maintain himself by his new one. He used his labour as the means of cultivating his skill in his more refined and elevated profession.

Chantry of Sheffield, was an economist both of time and money. He saved fifty pounds out of his earnings as a carver and gilder; paid the money to his master, and cancelled his indentures. Then he came up to London, and found employment as a journeyman carver; he proceeded to paint portraits and model busts, and at length worked his way to the first position as a sculptor.

Canova was a stone-cutter, like his father and his grandfather; and through stone-cutting he worked his way to sculpture. After leaving the quarry, he went to Venice, and gave his services to an artist, from whom he received but little recompense for his work. "I laboured," said he, "for a mere pittance, but it was sufficient. It was the fruit of my own resolution; and, as I then flattered myself, the foretaste of more honourable rewards,—for I never thought of wealth." He pursued his studies,—in drawing and modelling; in languages, poetry, history, antiquity, and the Greek and Roman classics. A long time elapsed before his talents were recognised, and then he suddenly became famous.

Lough, the English sculptor, is another instance of self-denial and hard work. When a boy, he was fond of drawing. At school, he made drawings of horses, dogs, cows, and men, for pins: that was his first pay; and he used to go home with his jacket sleeve stuck full of them. He and his brothers next made figures in clay. Pope's Homer lay on his father's window. The boys were so delighted with it, that they made thousands of models—one taking the Greeks, and the other the Trojans. An odd volume of Gibbon gave an account of the Coliseum. After the family were in bed, the brothers made a model of the Coliseum, and filled it with fighting gladiators. As the boys grew up, they were sent to their usual outdoor work, following the plough and doing the usual agricultural labour; but still adhering to their modelling at leisure hours. At Christmas-time, Lough was very much in demand. Everybody wanted him to make models in pastry for Christmas pies,—the neighbouring farmers especially, "It was capital practice," he afterwards said.

At length Lough went from Newcastle to London, to push his way in the world of art. He obtained a passage in a collier, the skipper of which he knew. When he reached London, he slept on board the collier as long as it remained in the Thames. He was so great a favourite with the men, that they all urged him to go back. He had no friends, no patronage, no money; What could he do with everything against him? But, having already gone so far, he determined to proceed. He would not go back—at least, not yet. The men all wept when he took farewell of them. He was alone in London; under the shadow of St. Paul's.

His next step was to take a lodging in an obscure first floor in Burleigh Street, over a greengrocer's shop; and there he began to model his grand statue of Milo. He had to take the roof off to let Milo's head out. There Haydon found him, and was delighted with his genius. "I went," he says, "to young Lough, the sculptor, who has just burst out, and has produced a great effect. His Milo is really the most extraordinary thing, considering all the circumstances, in modern sculpture. It is another proof of the efficacy of inherent genius." [1] That Lough must have been poor enough at this time, is evident from the fact that, during the execution of his Milo, he did not eat meat for three months; and when Peter Coxe found him out, he was tearing up his shirt to make wet rags for his figure, to keep the clay moist. He had a bushel and a half of coals during the whole winter; and he used to lie down by the side of his clay model of the immortal figure, damp as it was, and shiver for hours till he fell asleep.

[Footnote 1: Haydon's Autobiography, vol. ii., p, 155.]

Chantrey once said to Haydon, "When I have made money enough, I will devote myself to high art." But busts engrossed Chantrey's time. He was munificently paid for them, and never raised himself above the money-making part of his profession. When Haydon next saw Chantrey at Brighton, he said to him, "Here is a young man from the country, who has come to London; and he is doing precisely what you have so long been dreaming of doing."

The exhibition of Milo was a great success. The Duke of Wellington went to see it, and ordered a statue. Sir Matthew White Eidley was much struck by the genius of young Lough, and became one of his greatest patrons. The sculptor determined to strike out a new path for himself. He thought the Greeks had exhausted the Pantheistic, and that heathen gods had been overdone. Lough began and pursued the study of lyric sculpture: he would illustrate the great English poets. But there was the obvious difficulty of telling the story of a figure by a single attitude. It was like a flash of thought. "The true artist," he said, "must plant his feet firmly on the earth, and sweep the heavens with his pencil. I mean," he added, "that the soul must be combined with the body, the ideal with the real, the heavens with the earth."

It is not necessary to describe the success of Mr. Lough as a sculptor. His statue of "The Mourners" is known all over the world. He has illustrated Shakespeare and Milton. His Puck, Titania, and other great works, are extensively known, and their genius universally admired. But it may be mentioned that his noble statue of Milo was not cast in bronze until 1862, when it was exhibited at the International Exhibition of that year.

The Earl of Derby, in recently distributing the prizes to the successful pupils of the Liverpool College[1], made the following observations:—

"The vast majority of men, in all ages and countries, must work before they can eat. Even those who are not under the necessity, are, in England, generally impelled by example, by custom, perhaps by a sense of what is fitted for them, to adopt what is called an active pursuit of some sort.... If there is one thing more certain than another, it is this—that every member of a community is bound to do something for that community, in return for what he gets from it; and neither intellectual cultivation, nor the possession of material wealth, nor any other plea whatever, except that of physical or mental incapacity, can excuse any of us from that plain and personal duty.... And though it may be, in a community like this, considered by some to be a heterodox view, I will say that it often appears to me, in the present day, that we are a little too apt in all classes to look upon ourselves as mere machines for what is called 'getting on,' and to forget that there are in every human being many faculties which cannot be employed, and many wants which cannot be satisfied, by that occupation. I have not a word to utter against strenuous devotion to business while you are at it. But one of the wisest and most thoroughly cultivated men whom I ever knew, retired before the age of fifty, from a profession in which he was making an enormous income, because, he said, he had got as much as he or any one belonging to him could want, and he did not see why he should sacrifice the rest of his life to money-getting. Some people thought him very foolish. I did not. And I believe that the gentleman of whom I speak never once repented his decision."

[Footnote 1: A collection ought to be made and published of Lord Derby's admirable Addresses to Young Men.]

The gentleman to whom Lord Derby referred was Mr. Nasmyth, the inventor of the steam hammer. And as he has himself permitted the story of his life to be published, there is no necessity for concealing his name. His life is besides calculated to furnish one of the best illustrations of our subject. When a boy, he was of a bright, active, cheerful disposition. To a certain extent he inherited his mechanical powers from his father, who, besides being an excellent painter, was a thorough mechanic. It was in his workshop that the boy made his first acquaintance with tools. He also had for his companion the son of an iron-founder, and he often went to the founder's shop to watch the moulding, iron-melting, casting, forging, pattern-making, and smith's work that was going on.

"I look back," Mr. Nasmyth says, "to the hours of Saturday afternoons spent in having the run of the workshops of this small foundry as the true and only apprenticeship of my life. I did not trust to reading about such things. I saw, handled, and helped when I could; and all the ideas in connection with them became in all details, ever after, permanent in my mind,—to say nothing of the no small acquaintance obtained at the same time of the nature of workmen."

In course of time, young Nasmyth, with the aid of his father's tools, could do little jobs for himself. He made steels for tinder-boxes, which he sold to his schoolfellows. He made model steam-engines, and sectional models, for use at popular lectures and in schools; and by selling such models, he raised sufficient money to enable him to attend the lectures on Natural Philosophy and Chemistry at the Edinburgh University. Among his works at that time, was a working model of a steam carriage for use on common roads. It worked so well that he was induced to make another on a larger scale. After having been successfully used, he sold the engine for the purpose of driving a small factory.

Nasmyth was now twenty years old, and wished to turn his practical faculties to account. His object was to find employment in one of the great engineering establishments of the day. The first, in his opinion, was that of Henry Maudslay, of London. To attain his object, he made a small steam-engine, every part of which was his own handiwork, including the casting and forging. He proceeded to London; introduced himself to the great engineer; submitted his drawings; showed his models; and was finally engaged as Mr. Maudslay's private workman.

Then came the question of wages. When Nasmyth finally left home to begin the world on his own account, he determined not to cost his father another farthing. Being the youngest of eleven children, he thought that he could maintain himself, without trenching farther upon the family means. And he nobly fulfilled his determination. He felt that the wages sufficient to maintain other workmen, would surely be sufficient to maintain him. He might have to exercise self-control and self-denial; but of course he could do that. Though but a youth, he had wisdom enough and self-respect enough to deny himself everything that was unnecessary, in order to preserve the valuable situation which he had obtained.

Well, about the wages. When Mr. Maudslay referred his young workman to the chief cashier as to his weekly wages, it was arranged that Nasmyth was to receive ten shillings a week. He knew that, by strict economy, he could live within this amount. He contrived a small cooking apparatus, of which we possess the drawings. It is not necessary to describe his method of cooking, nor his method of living; it is sufficient to say that his little cooking apparatus (in which he still takes great pride) enabled him fully to accomplish his purpose. He lived within his means, and did not cost his father another farthing.