“They don't educate in one case out of ten. They don't feed them, clothe them, give them amusement and cultivation, do they?”
“Certainly not—that would be ridiculous.”
“Why, the question is whether that would be ridiculous!” replied Sir Charles. “I do not say it can be done, but in order to transform the next generation, what we should aim at is to provide substitutes for bad homes, evil training, unhealthy air, food and dulness, and terrible ignorance, in happier scenes, better teaching, proper conditions of physical life, sane amusements, and a higher cultivation. I dare say you would think me a lunatic if I proposed that Government should establish music-halls and gymnasia all over the country; but you, Mr. Fissure, voted for the Baths and Washhouses.”
“Who's to pay for all this?” asked Mr. Fissure, pertinently.
“The State, which means society, the whole of which is directly interested. I tell you a million of children are crying to us to set them free from the despotism of a crime and ignorance protected by law.”
“That is striking; but you are treading on delicate ground. The liberty of the subject——”
“Exactly what I expected you to say. These words can be used in defence of almost any injustice and tyranny. Such terms as 'political economy,' 'communism,' 'socialism,' are bandied about in the same way. Yet propositions coming fairly within these terms are often mentioned with approval by the very persons who cast them at you. In a report of a recent Royal Commission I find that one of the Commissioners is quite as revolutionary as I am. He says it is right by law to secure that no child shall be cruelly treated or mentally neglected, over-worked or under-educated. Some people would call that communism, I fancy. But I think him to be correct as a political economist in that broad proposition. Why? Because a child's relation to the State is wider, more permanent, and more important than his relation to his parents. If he is in danger of being depreciated and damned for good citizenship, the State must rescue him.”
“A paternal and maternal government together!” cries Lord Namby—“a government of nurses. You know I should like to stop the production of children among the lower orders. Your propositions are far in advance of my radicalism. The State must sometimes interfere between parent and child; for instance, in education or protection from cruelty. But, if I understand you, you actually contemplate a general refining and elevation of the working class by legislative means.”
“Assuredly: I should aim to cultivate their morals, refine their tastes, manners, habits. I wish to lift from them that ever-depressing sense of hopelessness which keeps them in the dust.”
“So do most men; but you must do that by personal and private influences, not by State enactments. How would you do it?”