My original intention was to collect together a number of essays on some of the most important bearings of the question of the expenditure of riches. After corresponding with those whom I had invited to join me in this undertaking, I became aware that in spite of our substantial agreement on main principles it would be difficult to secure uniformity in the treatment of the theme, and impossible to carry on any sustained argument through the varied contributions of different people writing from different points of view. Accordingly I came to the conclusion that I must renounce the co-operation of men well qualified to speak, whose knowledge and experience would have given their opinions special weight, and work out my own argument unaided.
Had I approached the subject from the standpoint of a scientific economist, I should have hesitated to enter upon such a formidable task. The more special knowledge a man has, the more conscious does he become of the impossibility of dealing adequately with his subject. But my object has been to write as one knowing no more than others who take any interest in human affairs and watch the play of social forces, as one who is no spectator in the combat he describes, and who, being himself infected with the malady he is studying, is perhaps the better able to diagnose it. I do not speak as a preacher to his congregation, as a teacher to his pupils, as a moralist to his disciples, or even as a politician to his audience, but as one man submitting his opinion for what it is worth to another.
At the same time, I am compelled by a deep conviction in the truth of my argument which passing years and the course of events only serve to strengthen, and if, by the brief suggestions contained in these pages, I can succeed in inducing anyone to examine more closely this branch of the Social Problem, which in my opinion is too often dismissed as negligible, I shall be amply repaid.
My thanks are due to those who have kindly assisted me in collecting the facts and figures in Chapter VIII and in other parts of the book, and also to Mr. and Mrs. J. L. Hammond, who read through the MS. and made valuable criticisms and suggestions.
A. P.
The Camel and the
Needle’s Eye
Chapter I
Extreme poverty a consequence of extreme wealth—Pity or contempt for the poor—Money ideal strong among the poor—The different phases in making a fortune—The general tendency of society—Relations between rich and poor—Dis-sympathy and class hatred—The social problem.
Frederick the Great’s father, on the occasion of great court festivities used to lead his wife from the brilliant scene of gaiety to an adjoining chamber, where he made her lie down for a few moments in her own coffin, so as to give her a sharp reminder of the vanity and transitory nature of all human pleasure. An even more effective reminder for those who in London spend their money on a life of pure self-indulgence would be afforded by a walk at midnight along the Embankment from Westminster to Waterloo Bridge. No prearranged stage management is necessary for the sight they are to see. It is a long run, every night and all night, and has gone on ever since the Embankment was constructed. As they pass along they can see the seats packed closely with men and women leaning against one another in an exhausted or half-drunken slumber. They can see the ragged and filthy bundles of humanity lying round the parapet at the foot of Cleopatra’s Needle, or the rows of wretched caricatures of men and women lined along the wall under the shelter of the bridges. If they go late enough, there is a strange silence which at first gives the impression that the place is deserted. But it only means that these waifs and strays, these wretched outcasts, are enjoying the few hours’ reprieve given even to them by the blessed oblivion of sleep. The moon shines on them from over the river, but no melodrama can reproduce that scene; estimates are drawn up of their number, but no statistics can give an adequate analysis; books are written on their condition, but no language can describe it. A man who sees this squalid throng for the first time must be deeply impressed, but it strikes even more anyone who sees it constantly, and he must be less than human if he can pass without a poignant pang of shame. But nine out of ten of those who do pass along will tell you these wretches only have themselves to blame, and it would be better if they could be stowed away somewhere out of sight.