Christmas Stories

Barton's good-nature was immediately up in arms. "Surely, Sir, it's very hard that the poor may not have a little amusement now and then. Our only object is, to give them a day's pleasure, and at the same time to give a little help to Fowler in his business, after his sad accident, which has thrown him back so unluckily."

"Nobody," said Mr. Hooker, "can be more friendly than I am to the amusements of the poor; provided they are innocent, and do not, almost necessarily, lead to immorality and sin. You know, Mr. Barton, as well as I do, that the pastime, as you call it, which you propose, will be attended with a great deal of drunkenness. Your avowed object is, that Fowler should sell as much beer and spirits as possible. I need not tell you, that drunkenness is not only a great sin in itself, but that it also leads to sins of every description. You know very well too, that on occasions of this sort, there is generally a great deal of swearing, a great deal of improper language, and, perhaps, a great deal of quarrelling. With respect to prize-fighting, sensible men have entertained different sentiments. My own opinion is, that it is a positive offence against the laws both of God and man; that it is a most disgusting exhibition; and surely a most improper sight for the women and children, who, in a village, will be spectators of it. I think also, that if one of the combatants should be killed, as is frequently the case, all those who have promoted the battle are parties in the guilt of manslaughter.

"Do not say that I am an enemy to the amusements of the poor. I like to have them enjoy themselves at proper times, and in a proper manner. I can take pleasure in seeing them engaged in a game at cricket, at football, at quoits, or any other manly exercise, provided they engage in it without swearing, or drunkenness, or other vice; but of the amusement now proposed in the village, I disapprove most decidedly."

The disapprobation of the clergyman, however, was not attended to. Barton talked of the parson's ill-nature in grudging the poor a little enjoyment, and said it was all of a piece with his finding fault with the poor boys for going to play on a Sunday, instead of going to church or the Sunday school.

The promised day at length arrived. The village was filled with a motley concourse from all the country round, and the fight took place. The men were equally matched, and fought with skill and courage. Both got severely bruised; but one of them received an unfortunate blow under the ear. He fell into the arms of his second, and it was soon discovered that the blow was mortal – he never spoke again. This sad accident threw a damp over the amusement of the day, and many repented of the good-nature which had led them to promote the pastime.

We will not, however, dwell upon this melancholy event, but proceed to the result of the indictment of the roads of the parish of Inglewood.

January came, and the Quarter Sessions. Both parties wished to have the indictment tried at once, and came prepared – the prosecutor with witnesses to prove that the road was very bad and unsafe – and Barton with several good-natured men, who were ready to swear, that it was as good a road as they wished to travel. The parish, however, was beat; and it being proved that frequent representations had been made of the bad state of the road in question, Inglewood was sentenced to pay a fine of fifty pounds, together with all costs, which amounted to forty more.

Farmer Barton hardly knew which was most ill-natured, the prosecutor, the jury, or the bench of magistrates. Perhaps he was most out of humour with the jury; for consisting, as it did principally, of farmers, they might, he thought, have put their oaths and their consciences a little on one side, where brother farmers were concerned. However, there was no help for it, and the money was to be found before the Easter Sessions.

He returned to Inglewood to console himself with the popularity, which he acquired in the exercise of the office of overseer. His good-nature led him to accede to almost every application, but his good-nature arose rather from his "fear of offending the importunate, than his desire of making the deserving happy[k] (#Footnote_K_18)." The industrious and the modest remained contented with their former pittance; but the forward, and the impudent, and the clamorous, were continually urging their claims for more relief, and seldom urged them in vain.

[k] (#FNanchor_K_18) Goldsmith.

"I hope, Farmer Barton," said one woman, "you will give me a little more allowance: when bread, and candles, and soap are paid for, there's hardly any thing left for tea and sugar." "Why I suppose then I must give you a trifle more – the parish can't miss it." One petitioner he manfully refused, and told her she must be content with what she had. "And how am I to buy snuff out of that[l] (#Footnote_L_19)?" The overseer relented: he loved a pinch of snuff himself. Farmer Oldacre would gladly have filled a deserving old woman's snuff box at his own expense, but not at the expense of the parish.

[l] (#FNanchor_L_19) Fact.

The liberal allowances granted by Barton, of course, required frequent rates, which it was not very convenient to the farmers to pay. Those, however, who happened to have money by them, paid, and allowed themselves the satisfaction of grumbling. Those who had it not, begged for time, and kept their grumbling to themselves. Barton's good-nature did not permit him to be very pressing. The consequence was, that, as he was neither disposed, nor perhaps able, to advance the money from his own pocket, fresh rates became necessary, and those who could pay made up for the deficiencies of those who could not.

Farmer Oldacre was one of the former description; and though he often told his brother overseer, that he was bound in law to levy and expend one rate before he applied for another; yet when his own pocket seemed to be concerned, he would not be peremptory.

Another of those who were always ready with their money, and were consequently entitled to the privilege of grumbling, was Richard Sterling.

Richard occupied five or six acres of land, kept three cows, and got on pretty well by supplying his neighbours with milk. "What, another rate, Master Barton! – why it seems but t'other day that I paid the last." – "It can't be helped, Richard; – the poor must be provided for." – "I know they must," answered Sterling, "and as for those who cannot keep themselves, and are come to poverty without any fault of their own, I should not grudge it them if they had more; – but there are some who might as well help to support me, as I to support them. Pray, what may you give to Tim Nesbit?" – "Why – perhaps the matter of three and sixpence a week." – "Three and sixpence a week? – that comes I think to about nine pounds twelve a-year. – Tim and I were born in the same year; when we grew up we worked for the same master; we married much about the same time, and our families are of the same size. The only difference between us was, that while I tried to put by what I could spare, Tim, whether single or married, always carried good part of his earnings to the ale-house. Now is it not a little hard that I must now be forced to help to maintain him, because he chose to squander away his money? He might at this present time have been every bit as well off in the world as I am; but because he chose to be careless and a spendthrift, I am forced to take bread, as it were, from my own children, and give it to his[m] (#Footnote_M_20)."

[m] (#FNanchor_M_20) See a lively dialogue to this purpose in that excellent little publication, the Cottagers' Monthly Visitor.

One day, when Barton was going towards his house, he was overtaken by Ralph the butcher's lad, who accosted him with, "Mr. Barton, I want you to do me a kindness." "What is it?" said Barton. "Why, you must know, that I have some thoughts of marrying, and want the parish just to run me up a bit of a house. Master will give carriage, and I can manage a good deal of the labour myself, so that it will cost the parish a mere trifle."

"You going to be married!" said Barton laughing, "why, how old are you?" "Old enough in all conscience, I shall be nineteen come February." "It might be as well to wait a few years longer," answered Barton; "however, I can't wonder at you; and we'll see what can be done."

He accordingly mentioned the subject to his brother overseer, whom he found in the field near his house. "I must say," replied Oldacre, "that I am no friend to these early marriages in any class of society. Young men and women – or rather I should say, boys and girls – take it into their heads to marry, before they can be supposed really to know their own minds. They are struck by something in the outward appearance, or taken by some whim and fancy, and become partners for life, before they have become acquainted with each other's temper or character, and before they have considered how to provide for a family. The consequence too often is, that the marriage turns out unhappily. Among the poor especially, who look to the parish for every thing, these early marriages produce a habit of dependence, which lowers their character and spirit for life."

"What you say, is much about the truth," replied Barton, "but these young people are bent upon marrying, and then, you know, there's no stopping them. Of course they must have a place to be in, and I suppose we may as well run him up a bit of a cottage at once."

"It is a serious thing," said Oldacre, "for farmers at rack-rent to begin building houses for their poor; but I am against it, for the sake of the poor themselves."

"Now I'm sure you must be wrong in that opinion," said Barton.

"Do just tell me," answered his brother overseer, "have we already labourers enough to do all the work of the parish?"

"Enough, and much more than enough. You know how puzzled we are to find employment for them in the winter. Indeed, excepting just in hay-making and harvest, we have always some men to be paid for their work out of the rates."

"Then is not increasing the number a bad thing for the poor themselves, if they already stand in each other's way? And do you not see, that building cottages is just the way to increase them? If you built twenty cottages, you would have them filled in a week's time. We have of late been forced to double some families, but that must be so uncomfortable in every way, that people do not like to marry upon such a prospect. But there are plenty of young men and women quite ready to hasten to the altar, if they could be sure of a roof to themselves to shelter them at night[n] (#Footnote_N_21). This of course, would make a lasting addition to the poor rates, would throw a heavy burden on the land, and render it still more difficult for the poor to find work.

[n] (#FNanchor_N_21) Townsend.

"The cottages that we have I wish to see as comfortable as possible, and would have the poor people who inhabit them take a pride in keeping them neat and clean, and their gardens in nice order; but I am not for increasing the number of them. Such increase, I am persuaded, would be against the interest of the poor themselves."

Mr. Stanley, during a former visit to Inglewood, had often fallen in with Mr. Oldacre in his walks, and got into conversation with him: he happened to come up at the moment, and catching the last words that had fallen from the farmer, said to him, "I suspect, Mr. Oldacre, that you are not very friendly to the system of the poor laws."

"I will not by any means say that," replied Oldacre; "I believe that in every state of society, in a populous and old-inhabited country especially, there always will, and must, be poor. As the Scripture says, The poor shall never cease out of the land. I am glad, therefore, that provision is made by law for those who are unable to help themselves. Private charity, in many places, does a great deal; and if there were no poor-laws, would do a great deal more. But if all were left to be provided for by private charity, the kind-hearted would be oppressed by claims, and often give more than they could afford, while the selfish and covetous would contribute nothing. It is right that these latter should be forced to take their share of the burden. In many places again, if there was nothing but voluntary benevolence to trust to, multitudes would starve, and no civilized country ought to suffer that, if it can help it. Indeed, I wish that we were able to give a larger measure of parochial relief to the aged and infirm, who are reduced to want through no fault of their own. But then, I must say, though I shall be thought ill-natured for saying so, that I cannot help seeing that the poor-laws – whether from bad management, or from the peculiar circumstances of the times, I will not pretend to say – have in many ways done no good to the character and the habits of several among the poor."

"I know," said Mr. Stanley, "that many sensible men entertain the same opinion; but, perhaps, you can give me a few instances which may make your meaning more clear."

"Many of the poor," replied Oldacre, "have not been hurt by them, but still preserve the steady, manly, independent character, which becomes an Englishman. But too frequently dependence on parish rates has produced very pernicious consequences.

"The connection between a farmer and his labourers – you will say, that I speak like a farmer, in mentioning that first– ought to be advantageous to both – not merely as a contract, by which the employer is to receive so much work, and the workman so much money; but as it tends to produce an interchange between them of kind offices and kind feelings. By many of the labourers this is still felt as it ought to be felt, and they take a pride and a pleasure in working year after year for the same master, and try to obtain his approbation by industry and good conduct. Some of them, however, have no notion of fixing themselves. They care little whether their employer is pleased with them or not, and upon the slightest affront as they call it, or the slightest difference about wages, they are off directly. If one wont employ them, another must; or, at all events, they must be employed by the parish.

"Again; the natural affection which subsists between parent and child, is strengthened and increased in both – as is the case indeed with brute animals – by the dependence of the children on their parents for subsistence. But now this dependence is, in many instances, removed from the parent to the overseer. On the other hand, when the parents grow old and infirm, the children often might do much to assist them, and if left to themselves would delight in doing so. But under the present system, if they do it at all, they do it by stealth; for why, say they, should we favour the parish? If they happen to have a little matter of money left them, they are tempted for the same reason to conceal it. Here again they ask, why should they favour the parish? and they will not feel, that the receiving of parish relief, when they have any thing of their own, is a fraud upon the parish, an act of dishonesty.

"Few virtues are more useful in any condition of life than frugality and foresight. Upon these, however, the poor laws have certainly made a sad inroad: unmarried men, or those, who though married have no families, or whose children have got out, while they continue in full health and vigour, might often contrive to lay by something against old age. But this few of them think of doing, for why should they favour the parish? The parish must provide for them at any rate, and so they may as well spend their money as fast as they get it. The future satisfaction of living on their own means, instead of on parish pay, is not sufficient to stand against the temptation of present pleasure. – Savings banks are an excellent institution, but when once a man has quartered himself as a pauper upon the parish, he will not make use of them. Why should he put money into the bank in order to favour the parish? – I shall tire you, Sir, I fear," continued the farmer, "but you must let me mention one thing more. Beneficence is, we know, twice blessed; it blesses him that gives, and him that takes; but parish relief comes sadly in the way of beneficence. When men are forced to pay so much to the poor through the hands of the overseer, they have neither the inclination, nor, in fact, the power, to give so largely in the way of voluntary charity.

"Many other instances I could give of the unfavourable effect which the poor laws have had upon the characters, and consequently upon the happiness, of the poor[o] (#Footnote_O_22). I do not blame the poor: – many, who would otherwise keep off the parish, are driven to it by the low rate of wages, which has been occasioned, I suppose, partly by an oversupply of hands, and partly by irregularities in our currency.

[o] (#FNanchor_O_22) See the eloquent and forcible Pamphlets of Townsend, Bicheno, and Jerram; and particularly the judicious and well-arranged Sermon on "the Immoral Effect of the Poor-Laws," by Dr Richards of Bampton.

"As I said before, I am glad that a legal provision is made for the poor, but I wish that more than half the money we now pay in rates was paid in wages, and that wages were such that a man in health, and with a good character, might always be pretty well able to provide for a moderate-sized family by his own exertions. The parish pay should be kept chiefly for unforeseen calamities, for the orphan and for the widow. We should then be able to give them a better allowance. Now there are so many claimants, that we cannot give much to any, and the able, bodied and strong are the means of lessening the pittance of the sick and the helpless."

Lady-day was now approaching, and with it the time when Barton was to go out of office. His good-nature had lavished so much of the public money upon clamorous applicants, that many parish bills were still unpaid. The fine too imposed upon the inhabitants of Inglewood upon the indictment of the road, and the legal costs attending it, were also now to be cleared off, so that altogether a very considerable sum was to be made up. It was well known, that many of the rates were much in arrears; and the farmers who had hitherto paid with some degree of punctuality, grumbled more and more at the neglect of the acting overseer in not levying them. Most of them expressed their determination to pay no more, till all arrears were cleared up. One large farm was about to change its occupier, and the in-coming tenant declared – as he had a good right to declare – that he would have nothing to do with the debts of the parish incurred before his coming into it. Strong hints also were thrown out, that Barton should take the consequences of his own neglect upon himself, and should make up all deficiencies out of his own pocket. These threats answered the purpose of alarming Barton, whose good-nature, great as it was, had never been able to stifle his regard for his own interest. He accordingly set actively to work to collect the arrears.

Those who had been unable to pay one rate, were not likely to pay four, which had now become due, together with the heavy addition occasioned by the indictment. Some of the defaulters blamed the overseer, for having let it run on so long; and all found fault with him for having brought so serious an expense upon the parish by his neglect about the roads.

All, I should not say; – for the poor widow Wildgoose uttered not a word of reproach or complaint against any one, but when asked for her arrears of rates, passively replied that she had no money, and that the parish must take her goods.

She had never held up her head since the death of her eldest son. When she first set up her shop, she dealt a good deal for ready money, of course selling to ready-money customers at a much lower rate. From the time of her son's death, however, her activity and attention to business had deserted her. She suffered many of the poor to run deeply in her debt, and if she hinted any thing about payment, they pretended to be affronted, and took all their ready money to the other shops. Farmer Barton, too, thought that it would be good-natured to give the poor widow the credit of his custom and protection, and had almost all his shop-goods and grocery from her house. Unfortunately, however, neither his good-nature, of which he had so much – nor his sense of justice, of which he had but little – ever led him to recollect to pay her. She was too much depressed – too meek-spirited– to urge, or even to ask for, payment, and the consequence was, that she was just approaching to utter ruin, which was of course likely to be accelerated by her goods being distrained for poor rates. Her surviving children were in service in creditable places, and would have helped her in a moment; but she could not bear to tell them of her difficulties. Now, however, one of her neighbours contrived to let them know the situation, in which their mother was. Immediately they made up out of their wages a sum sufficient not only to pay off her arrears, but to give her a trifle for her present wants. And soon after she received by the post a blank cover addressed to her, inclosing a five pound note. She had no guess who could have sent it, but it was soon discovered that it came from Lucy Wilmot, a young woman to whom her eldest son had been attached. Her second son Sam lived with a kind-hearted lawyer in London, who, upon hearing of the distress of the poor widow and its cause, not only sent her some assistance in money, but promised to take an early opportunity of looking into her affairs, and of taking measures for compelling those of her debtors who were able, to pay what they owed her.

Of the other defaulters, some contrived to procure the necessary money; some were summoned before the magistrates, and then, finding that they had no remedy, found a friend to advance the money; against others warrants of distress were issued.

No case excited more commiseration than that of Michael Fielding. Michael had been a remarkably industrious and prudent labourer, and had managed to save a considerable sum of money. He married a young woman of similar character, and being naturally anxious to get forward in the world, they had ventured, seven or eight years before, to take a small farm. The rent was moderate when they took their lease, but they had felt the change of times severely. The property was in the hands of trustees, who did not feel justified in making a diminution of rent; and consequently poor Michael, every year, saw his means growing less, while his family grew larger. He was at work early and late, his wife gave all the help she could in the farm, and mended the children's clothes as long as they would hold together; and the hard-earned bread, upon which the family lived, was so coarse, that many of the labourers in the village would have turned from it in disdain. Michael was naturally of a cheerful disposition, and not apt to murmur or complain; sometimes, however, he could hardly suppress a sigh, when he thought of his own children, and of the hard fare to which they were accustomed, and saw in the parish-books the large sums that were given by the good-nature of Barton to idle and worthless characters[p] (#Footnote_P_23). Now and then he had ventured gently to remonstrate upon the hardship of being obliged to contribute so large a portion of his limited means towards the maintenance of men, who had begun the world with the same advantages with himself, and who, but for their own improvidence, might have lived without being a burden to any one. The comparative smallness of his farm, however, and his former situation in life, prevented his remonstrance from being of much weight. He was now nearly insolvent. Several persons, to whom his character was known, would have been happy to have assisted him, but he was too high-minded to acquaint them with his difficulties. All the money, that by his utmost exertion he could scrape together, was just gone for rent, and he had nothing at all left to meet the demand for the arrears of rates, and for his portion of the expenses of the indictment. Barton, in spite of his good-nature, felt obliged to distrain. This brought other creditors upon poor Michael, and he was obliged to sell off every thing.

[p] (#FNanchor_P_23) Townsend.

Barton, however, was enabled to make up his accounts, and had got them passed at the vestry, though there certainly was among his brother farmers a little grumbling. Barton defended himself as well as he could, and added, that at all events he had got the good-word of the poor; that he always had borne, and always hoped to bear, the character of a good-natured man. Farmer Oldacre could not suffer this to pass without observation. He had been a little irritated by some things which he had witnessed at the vestry, and felt deeply for poor Michael, who had formerly worked upon his farm, and whom he had always loved and respected. "Come, come, neighbour Barton," said he, "let us hear no more of your good-nature, for which we all have to pay so dear. Your wish to obtain the good-word of the poor has not really benefitted them, and has done serious injury to the rest of your neighbours. Your good-nature about the licence has increased the immorality and the poverty of the parish; – and your good-nature to the road-workmen has given Fowler a broken leg; – your good-nature to farmer Dobson, in not making him cut his hedge, and do his statute-duty, has cost us ninety pounds; – and your good-nature as overseer has made the parish less able to pay that sum, and has helped to complete the ruin of two or three deserving families. And – if I may venture here to mention so serious a consideration – your good-nature would have allowed a sinner to go on towards eternal destruction without warning, and, for the sake of avoiding uneasiness of mind here, would have suffered him to incur everlasting punishment hereafter.

"Farmer Barton – I value brotherly-kindness most highly. I know that the love of our neighbour, and a readiness to do him good offices, is the second great commandment both of the Law and of the Gospel. But I hope that I shall ever be on my guard against that love of low popularity, that weak fear of giving offence, that sacrifice of public principle to private considerations, which, under the engaging name of good-nature, often lead to forgetfulness of duty both towards God and man, and do as much harm in the world as positive dishonesty."

NOTES

Dr. Benjamin Franklin is well known as the friend of the poor and of liberty, and as one of the founders of American independence. The following observations will, with many persons, have additional weight, as coming from his pen.

Extract from Observations written in Pennsylvania in 1751.