Let me, in this chapter, give the first place to Samuel Plimsoll, a man who, if he made money, spent it nobly, and deserved the peerage far more than many who have been elected to that honour—at any rate, from the time the Earl of Beaconsfield became . He was down very low in the social scale, and it is thus he writes of his noble poverty and of his companions in misfortune, in that appeal on behalf of our , which stirred up the community as with the voice of a , and actually forced parliament to . “I don’t wish,” he writes, “to the rich; but I think it may reasonably be doubted whether these qualities are so developed in them” (he had been writing of the honesty, of the strong aversion to idleness, of the to one another in adversity, and of the splendid courage of the working classes); “for notwithstanding that not a few of them are not unacquainted with the claims, reasonable and , of poor relations, these qualities are not in such constant exercise, and riches seem, in so many cases, to the of their possessors, that their sympathies become not so much narrowed as, so to speak, stratified; they are reserved for the sufferings of their own class, and also the of those above them. They seldom tend much, and they are far more likely to admire an act of high courage, like that of the engine-driver who saved his passengers lately from an awful collision by cool courage, than to admire the constantly-exercised and the tenderness which are the daily characteristics of a British workman’s life.
“You may doubt this. I should once have done so myself; but I have shared their lot; I have lived with them. For months and months I lived in one of the model -houses, p. 146established mainly by the efforts of Lord Shaftesbury. There is one in Lane, another in Hatton Garden; and, indeed, they are all over London. I went there simply because I could not afford a better lodging. I have had to make seven shillings and ninepence halfpenny (three shillings of which I paid for my lodging) last me a whole week, and did it. It is astonishing how little you can live on when you yourself of all fancied needs. I had plenty of good wheaten bread to eat all the week, and the half of a herring for a (less will do if you can’t afford half, for it is a splendid fish), and good coffee to drink; and I know how much, or rather how little, roast shoulder-of-mutton you can get for twopence for your Sunday’s dinner. Don’t suppose I went there from choice; I went from stern necessity (and this was too), and I went with strong shrinking, with a sense of suffering great , regarding my being there as a thing to be kept carefully secret from all my old friends. In a word, I considered it only less degrading than spunging upon my friends, or borrowing what I saw no chance of ever being able to pay.
“Now, what did I see there? I found the workmen considerate for each other. I found that they would go out (those who were out of employment), day after day, and patiently miles and miles seeking employment, returning, night after night, unsuccessful and dispirited. They would walk incredibly long distances to places where they heard of a job of work, and this not for a few days, but for very many days. And I have seen such a man sit down wearily by the fire (we had a common room for sitting, and cooking, and everything), with a hungry look—he had not tasted food all day—and by another scarcely less poor than himself, with—‘Here, mate, get this into thee,’ handing him, at the same time, a piece of bread and some cold meat, and afterwards some coffee; and adding, ‘Better luck to-morrow—keep up your pecker;’ and all this without any idea that they were practising the most splendid patience, fortitude, courage, and generosity I had ever seen. You would hear them talk of absent wife and children sometimes—there in a distant workhouse—trade was very bad then—with expressions of affection, and the hope of seeing them again, although the one was irreverently to as my old woman, and the latter as the kids. I p. 147very soon got rid of self-pity there, and came to reflect that Dr. Livingstone would probably be thankful for good wheaten bread; and if the bed was of flock and hay, and the sheets of cotton, that better men than I in the Crimea (the war was then going on) would think themselves very lucky to have as good; and then, too, I began to reflect, that when you come to think of it, such as these men were, so were the vast majority of the working classes; that the idle and the drunken we see about public-houses, are but a small minority of them made to appear more—because public-houses are all put in such places; that the great bulk are at home; for the man who has to be up at six in the morning can’t stay up at night; he is in bed early, and is as I found my fellow . * * * Well, it was impossible to indulge in self-pity in circumstances like these; and emulous of the genuine manhood all around me, I set to work again; for what might not be done with youth and health; and simply by preparing myself rather more for my business than had been considered necessary, I was soon strong enough to live more in accordance with my previous life, and am now able to speak a true word for the genuine men I left behind, simply because my dear parents had given me greater advantages than these men had.” In this we see the secrets of Mr. Plimsoll’s ultimate success—the better education his parents had given him, and the courage infused into him by the example of men lower down in the social scale. Under these circumstances he again went to work, and the result was fame and fortune.
The great railway king, Mr. G. Hudson, was, for a time, a money-making M.P., who rose from the linendraper’s shop at York, to be the observed of all observers, the lion of the day, to whom, while his money lasted, the oldest and the proudest aristocracy in the world stood cap in hand. ! however, he outlived his wealth. It took to itself wings, and flew away.
The mother of Joseph Hume, M.P., kept a small crockery shop at Montrose; and yet her son went out to India, made a large fortune, and came back to his native land to be a member of parliament, and a leader in political and economical reform.
Mr. I. Holden, when M.P. for the eastern division of the West Riding of Yorkshire, told a large meeting of the electors at Leeds about his earlier years. “I began life,” he said, p. 148“as an operative. I was a worker in a cotton-mill, and when I had worked fourteen hours a-day, I spent two in the evening school. I educated myself by that means till I was able to continue my education by assisting in the education of others; and I sometimes remember with intense emotion, entering, upon a stage-coach, the town of Leeds, unknown, and a perfect stranger, at twenty years of age, in order to be the mathematical master in one of the first schools then in Yorkshire, and almost one of the first in England. I spent many happy months in the town of Leeds.” When he began to take an interest in politics, he watched the course of the two great parties on the subject of Catholic and the emancipation of the slaves, and became a Liberal.
Edward Baines, who became M.P. for Leeds, and the of one of the most valuable newspaper properties in the kingdom, the Leeds Mercury, set off to make his fortune in 1793. His son writes:—“There was at that time no public on the direct route from Preston to Leeds, and the journey by coach, through Manchester, would have occupied two days. The , of heart and limb, performed the journey on foot, with his bundle on his arm. A friend accompanied him to Clithero; but he crossed the hill into Yorkshire with no companion but his staff, and all his worldly wealth in his pocket. Wayworn he entered the town of Leeds, and, finding the shop of Messrs. Binns and Brown, he inquired if they had room for an apprentice to finish his time. The stranger was carelessly referred to the foreman; and, as he entered the Mercury office, he internally resolved that, if he should obtain admission there, he would never leave it.” And he kept his word. A man does what he wills. To succeed in life—to be even a rich man or an M.P.—is mainly the result of the effort of the indomitable will of a and man.
Mr. Baines succeeded because his was, that what was worth doing, was worth doing well. “He laid the foundations of future success,” writes his son, “as a master, in the thorough knowledge and performance of the duties of a workman. Whilst still receiving weekly wages, he practised a economy. He was anxious to improve his condition, and he took the only effectual means to do it by saving as much as he could of the fruits of his industry. His tastes were simple, his habits , and his companionships p. 149virtuous. Always maintaining respectability of appearance, he was superior to personal display. He with a family; but on a scale of expense suited to his circumstances.” An early marriage seems to have increased his business energy. “At five o’clock in the morning, and, when occasion required, at four or three, was the young printer out of bed; and whatever neighbour rose early was sure to find him in his office. He was above no kind of work that belonged to his trade. He not only directed others, but worked himself at case and press. He kept his own books, and they still remain to the and neatness with which he kept them, though he had no training in that department. Not a penny went or came but had its record, either in his office or his domestic account-books. In consequence, he always knew the exact position of his affairs. His customers and friends increased; for it was found that he was to be depended upon for whatever he undertook. With a spirit that stooped to no meanness, but with a nature that cheerfully yielded all respect and courtesy; with a temper as steady as it was and happy; with constant and unfailing attention to duty, he won the confidence of every one that knew him. His punctuality and method were exemplary; he conducted his business, in all respects, in the best way. He not only took any employment for his press, however , that came, but he devised and suggested publications, and joined others in executing them. But,” adds the son, “it was necessary that energy in business should be seconded by economy at home. He began by laying down the rule that he would not spend more than half his income; and he acted upon it. Great was his resolution, and many the contrivances to carry out his purpose; but husband and wife being of the same mind, assiduous and equally prudent, the thing was done. For some time they kept but one servant. A main secret of his was, that he created no artificial wants. He always drank water. He never smoked, justly thinking it a waste of time and money to gratify a taste which does not exist naturally, but has to be formed. He took no snuff. Neither nor theatre saw his face. The circle of his visiting acquaintance was small and select. Yet he was not an earth-worm. He took an active part in the or Strangers’ Friend Society, and was a man of public spirit. The pure joys of domestic p. 150life, the pleasures of industry, and the satisfaction of doing good, combined to make him as happy as he was useful.”
Thus it will be seen that the foundation of Mr. Baines’s success in life, and of his usefulness, was laid in those which are too often despised by the young and , but which are of incomparably greater value than the most shining qualities—in integrity, industry, , prudence, frugality, temperance, self-denial, and courtesy. The young man who would use his harvest must plough with his heifer.
If there is a passage in all his life of which his descendants are and ought to be most proud, it is that lowly commencement, when habits were formed; when the temptations of youth were resisted; when life-long friendships were won; when domestic life began in love, and , and prudence; when a venerable neighbour, Mr. Abraham Dickinson, used to remark, “Those young people are sure to get on, they are so industrious;” and when the same good man said to a young friend at his elbow—“C—, thou seest an example in thy neighbour Edward.”
“All’s well that ends well,” says the proverb. It is true; yet it is also of immense importance to begin well. Mr. Baines, some years since, was watching an apprentice, whose habits were not steady, fold up a newspaper. At the first fold there was a wrinkle, and at every succeeding fold the wrinkle grew worse, and more unmanageable. Mr. Baines said significantly to the lad—“Jim, its a bad thing to begin wrongly.” The poor fellow found it so; for he soon fell a victim to his . His master had begun right, and every succeeding fold in life was easy and straight. The lesson is worth remembering.
Another illustration of money-making is to be found in the case of William James Chaplin, a native of Rochester, in Kent, whose history affords a example of the way in which a man rises from the humblest ranks, by talent and energy, to a place amongst the most and wealthy men of the day. Before railways were in operation, Mr. Chaplin had succeeded in becoming one of the largest coach in the kingdom. His establishment grew from small beginnings, until, just before the opening of the London and North-Western Railway, he was proprietor of sixty-four stage-coaches, worked by 1,500 horses, and returning p. 151yearly more than a million . A man who could build up such a business was not likely to let it sink under him; and, accordingly, we find that he moved his large capital from four-horse coaches into railway shares, and entered largely in foreign railways, especially in France and Holland. His greatest stake, however, was invested in the London and South-Western, of which he became director, and afterwards chairman. In 1845, he was Sheriff of London, when he took some pains to promote prison reform; and, in 1847, was elected M.P. for Salisbury, as a supporter of free trade and the . He was also a deputy-lieutenant of the county of Hants.
In 1825, a country lad arrived in London on the day before Good Friday. As he was born in 1806, he was about twenty years of age. He had served his with a linendraper at Wigton, where his master did not , and the young man to come to London in search of a fortune. It was a wearisome ride then from Carlisle to London, and took the coaches at least a couple of days; but it is a long journey that has no end to it. In due time the coach reached the “Swan with Two Necks,” in Lad Lane, Wood Street, and, after paying the coachman, the young man from the country took up his residence at the “Magpie and Platter.” As may be supposed, he felt rather lonely, and did not know what to do with himself. He was too much , besides, to look after a situation; so on Good Friday, as he knew the Cumberland men held their annual wrestling match on that day, he made his way to Chelsea to observe the sports. When he arrived there he found a young Quaker friend from Torpenbow, who had won the belt at Keswick a few years before. The new-comer, inspired by the event, entered his name as a . He was described by some, who were present on the occasion, “as very strong-looking, middle-sized, with a broad chest, and strongly-developed muscles;” his hair was dark and curly, and almost black; his eyes were brown, and glowed under excitement to a deeper brown; his face was redolent of health. The new-comer “peeled” and stepped into the ring. The first man he came against was a little bigger than himself; but he threw him so cleverly, that the questions were asked on every side—“Who’s that?” “Where does he come from?” “What’s his name?” His name was soon known; and as he again, and threw his man, he was hailed with cries of, “Weel done.” Again he succeeded; and though p. 156beaten at length by a champion wrestler from Cumberland, the young man from the country was hailed as the winner of the third prize. His name was George Moore, and it was thus he made his débût in London in the year 1825. It is needless to say that he was recognised by his countrymen, and treated to drink. It was the wish that he should have another wrestling , and were made on the subject; but to the credit of George Moore it must be stated, that when he saw some of the lads around him were taking more drink than was good for them, he made up his mind not to in the proposed match, and left his admirers indignant at his decision.
On his return, Moore learned that the inn—indeed, the very bed in which he had slept—had become notorious; for Thurtell, the well-known murderer, had been taken from it by the police some time before. Moore was horror-struck, and determined to seek fresh . He was fortunate in finding very suitable ones in Wood Street, and thence he set out to find a situation. It was hard work the search. People laughed at his north-count............