sordid nor so absurd as some people thought, to insist that everybody should make it a point of conscience to lay by something every year; and that, in view of that end, parsimony was a virtue.
Times and the face of affairs changed, however, as free trade acted upon our national industry; and especially after the repeal of the corn laws had released us from the worst perils of material adversity. Natural inducements to save succeeded to the preachments of moralists, and it became more a matter of choice to moralists themselves whether to save or spend. For my part, I think that times have so changed, that while it is still, and ever must be, right that the total capital of the nation should increase without intermission, it is also right that certain individuals should spend their whole income. Parents, and all men and women who have, or may have, dependents, are bound to take care, as far as they can, that their young charges shall start fair in their career of industry, whatever it may be; and that old or poor relations, or near friends, shall not suffer needlessly by their death. The wealth of commercial magnates grows of course, and does duty, in regard to the employment of industry for the savings of hundreds and thousands of little men. But when all the commercial firms are cared for, and all the sons and daughters, and all the poor relatives and dependents, there may still be a good many incomes left which may harmlessly or beneficially be spent without reserve. In our day, the work of “doing good” is much overdone, no doubt; and a vast deal of mischief is bred as a set-off against the good actually wrought: but still there are so many excellent projects and institutions requiring support; so many neighbours everywhere needing help; so many ways of employing industry to the gain of public or private comfort, instruction and pleasure, that I own I hear with satisfaction an avowal, here and there, from some thoughtful and independent person, that he spends his whole income, because he sees every year more reason for spending than for laying by. I am glad when elderly spinsters say so; and when widowers and widows, whose children are settled in life, say so. And I am sorry in proportion when those of my own generation, who heard the praises of accumulation and of parsimony in their youth, are still trammeled by bonds which they should have broken through long ago, and abstain from doing good and pleasant things now, for the chance of somebody unknown doing something of the sort hereafter. Being Protestants, and charitable bequests being happily out of fashion and discredited, these contemporaries of mine are not disposing of their money in that way. When nobody depends on them, nobody expects anything from them, and nobody of kin or kindness needs anything, it does seem absurd and shocking to go on laying by part of a safe and ample income,—even in such a year as that of the potato rot, or that of the cotton famine: yet these rich people would feel disturbed in mind if they did not lay by the usual amount, or rather more, from year to year. I have seen them trying to the last moment to disbelieve the distress; complaining of the local rates, opining that it was the duty of Irish landlords, or of Lancashire proprietors, to take charge of the sufferers, and at last subscribing their 5l. or 10l., lest they should lay by only 450l. instead of 500l., and by giving much be led on to give more.
It was often said, last autumn, that people who usually tithed their income for charity were, on such an occasion, giving one-fifth; that those who had an income of thousands were giving hundreds, and those who had an income of hundreds were giving tens: and they thought that excellent; but they could not do it: it would trench upon their well-considered plan of conduct, and compel them to sacrifice a fixed object to a transitory one. Again,—they heard of a set of very poor people, living in a very poor cluster of cottages, who, at the beginning of this winter, amidst the bitter frost of November, engaged to supply 22s. monthly for Lancashire, as long as the distress should last: and these rich solitaries, who had no growing boys and girls to feed, and no babes to warm with difficulty, and no old clothes to mend and patch to make them last the winter, thought this creditable to the poor people, certainly, but quite natural, seeing that they might any day be in need of the same assistance. So these opulent solitaries, who probably will never want pecuniary aid from any quarter, have seen no incitement to give to Lancashire what would correspond to the contributions of those poor labourers, but stick to their 5l. or 10l., as what they are “justified in giving.” The spell which is upon all others, making them frank and careless about the disclosure of their affairs, does not act upon these rigid moralists and economists. It is curious to see them denying themselves in a way, because everybody else is economical just now, but to no purpose as regards anybody but posterity. One will do without new gravelling his garden-walks for the present, and another will put off buying her intended silk dress this winter, as everybody is going shabby in one way or other for the sake of Lancashire; but it is too plain that the saving will be invested for the benefit of some other party than Lancashire, leaving a certain sense of complacency behind,—probably because it used to be said that “Parsimony is a virtue.”
It is this effort to help Lancashire which has so singularly broken up the ordinary reserve about incomes. All over the kingdom the “workies,” men and women, are subscribing weekly or monthly amounts out of their pay; and, for the example’s sake, the fact gets abroad. It is natural for salaried clerks, poor gentry, and clergy to consult together, and inquire what others are doing; and thus to communicate their affairs in a way they would not otherwise think of. In country places, and even in some streets of towns, the same kind of council is held. Preachers of all denominations bring the case and the appeal upon it home very plainly to their hearers; and the hearers’ hearts are opened, and they are frank and hearty, and give as one family. We learn now how people with very small means give by sacrificing the accustomed ale, or the cigar, or the annual autumn pic-nic, or the dance at Christmas. And, as the end of the year approached, we found that the ordinary strict-