Ladies and Gentlemen,
The Field of Battle is in sight at last! The St. Marylebone Mental Light Columns, escorted by Troops of Progress in bright armour, with Advancement in Knowledge Rifle Corps, fair women, and brave men, are in marching order, and eager for the fray with the Mental Darkness Brigade, the cruel and relentless enemies of Improvement. The Obstructive Forces for the defence of Ignorance, with a great flourish of trumpets, proclaiming themselves friends of the poor par excellence, are marching in defile, and scenting the battle afar off.
These bitter and unscrupulous foes, who care as much for the Poor, as their pretended and hollow friend, Judas Iscariot, who when he cried aloud for the public, meant only himself, of whom it was said, “not that he cared for the poor, but because he carried the bag,” who murmured at the waste of costly ointment of spikenard with which Mary had anointed the feet of Jesus, and treacherously asked “why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence and given to the poor?”
These determined opponents of Progress—Parish Magnates—who dread the light of intelligence, and whose excessive desire to guard the ratepayers’ pockets is suspicious, and reminds me of Judas’ anxiety to trade on the distress of the poor. This Ignorant Phalanx, officered by pompous little great men, or loud little foolish men,—small vanities and pomposities, whose cry is “more taxation,” and who seem to say, “I am the Parish,” and “when I speak let no dog bark;” all these small politicians and miserable DO-NOTHINGS are making ready for the field.
A motley group are these specious Antagonists! Frantic about the Ballot, clinging to some Utopian impracticable reform, these sciolists and pedagogues presume to snarl at the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and denounce him as a financial jobber, wishing to float every stranding newspaper with public money, and who speak of our foremost Statesman and his Bill for the repeal of the Paper Duty, “as a sop to that Cerberus, the Press, to get the support of the newspapers of the country.” What skimbleskamble stuff! Consistent only in its inconsistency, true to its base, diabolical instincts, the Times with the malice of Disraeli, and the hypocrisy of the Tempter, so far from supporting, positively revels in slandering this CONSCIENTIOUS Minister. Yes, the veering, versatile, infamous Times faithful to one principle only—unprincipled wickedness exerts every nerve to retain this obnoxious tax. It has assailed the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and vilified his policy with a vindictiveness which Shylock might have envied, and which even cheap journalism disdained. Parish officials who ought to know better, prose about the danger of innovation. Not too fast. Slow and sure. No complaints; no mischief has yet taken place; stay till it has taken place! Wait a little this is not the time! With pretended friends of Progress the right time will never arrive;—to-day is the plea, exclusion the object. I admit your “Poor rate is enormous,” but I rest my case on this fact, as a strong argument for adopting this humanizing Act of Parliament.
All these insidious foes either ignore or misrepresent the objects and purposes of the Public Libraries’ Act. Miserable economists in the guise of friends of poor-rate defaulters, (whose talk about the Lisson Grove Sunday nuisance is vain and hypocritical, while opposing Lord Chelmsford’s Bill, who have not the courage to say, “We don’t believe in the education of those who have to work,”) make use of the ratepayers to pare down necessary Parochial expenditure, and to cry down the wisest outlay of the Public money, in order to place themselves in office, and who on the utterly fallacious plea that a half-penny Library Rate is a compulsory and oppressive tax, would artfully dissuade you from supporting the News Rooms Act on its own merits. Know Nothings, and Dreamers, whose emblem is,
“Man never IS, but always TO BE, blest.”
“candid friends,” coarse but not witty, seeking in every possible way to disparage this beneficent project, in short, PRETENDED AND HOLLOW friends of the poor, who, like the arch traitor in the text care not one straw for the good of the People, are going on to meet the armed men, the soldiers of victory, thrice armed as having their cause, or casus belli just.
But unlike other encounters, in this Engagement there will be no gathering tears and tremblings of distress. The heroic women of St. Marylebone especially, will take comfort in the thought that fortune favours the brave, and that although the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, they have, come what may, deserved success, for they have done what they could to win the battle.
Clad in the armour of Righteousness you will know no fear; you will mock at fear and not be affrighted; you will meet the treacherous foe with self-approving smiles; Conscience will whisper in your ears the memorable words of the Saviour to Mary, “She hath done what she could” to secure the victory.