They passed a couple of young men wending their way to the gymnasium with racquets in their hands.
‘They are the sons of the doctor or lawyer, I suppose,’ said the Professor looking after them. ‘Fine young fellows! But what are we to do with them? The law says that every boy, except the son of a peeress, shall learn a trade. No doubt these boys have learned a trade, but they do not practise it. They stay at home idle, or they spend their days in athletics. Some time or other they will marry a woman in their own rank, and then the rest of their lives will be devoted to managing the house and looking after the children, while their wives go to office and earn the family income.’
‘What would you do with them?’
‘Nay, Lord Chester; what will you do for them? That is the question.’
The next day they left Manchester, and proceeded on their journey. At Liverpool they saw seven miles of splendid old docks, lining the banks of the river; but there were no ships. The trade of the old days had long since left the place: it was a small town now with a few fishing smacks. The Professor enlarged upon the history of the past.
‘But were the men happy?’
‘I do not know. That is nowhere stated. I imagine there used to be happiness of a kind for men in forming part of a busy hive. At least the other plan—our plan—does not seem to produce much solid happiness....’
Gradually Lord Chester was being led to think less of the individual and more of his work. But it took time to eradicate his early impressions.
At Liverpool they visited the convict-prison—the largest prison in England. It was that prison specially devoted to the worst class of criminals—those undergoing life sentences for wife-beating. They found a place surrounded by a high wall and a deep ditch; they were admitted, on the Professor showing a pass, through a door at which a dozen female warders were sitting on duty. One of them was told off to conduct them round the prison. The convicts, coarsely clad in sackcloth, were engaged in perpetually doing unnecessary and profitless work—some dug holes which others filled up again; some carried heavy weights up ladders and down again,—there was the combined cruelty of monotony, of uselessness, and of excessive toil. In this prison—because physical force is necessary for men of violence—they had men as well as women for warders. These were stationed at intervals, and were armed with loaded guns and bayonets. It was well known that there was always great difficulty in persuading men to take this place, or to keep them when there. Mostly they were criminals of less degree, who purchased their liberty by becoming, for a term of years, convict-warders.
‘No punishment too bad for wife-beaters,’ said the Professor when they came away. ‘What punishment is there for women who make slaves of their husbands, lock them up, kill them with work? or for old women who marry young men against their will?’