Such are the ultimate objects of my present labours: the result of them is given to the world with an earnest desire to better the condition of the wretched social outcasts of whom I have now to treat, and to contribute, if possible, my mite of good towards the common weal.
But though such be my ultimate object, let me here confess that my immediate aim is the elimination of the truth; without this, of course, all other principles must be sheer sentimentality -- sentiments being, to my mind, opinions engendered by the feelings rather than the judgment. The attainment of the truth, then, will be my primary aim; but by the truth. I wish it to be understood, I mean something more than the bare facts. Facts, according to my ideas, are merely the elements of truths, and not the truths themselves; of all matters there are none so utterly useless by themselves as your mere matters of fact. A fact, so long as it remains an isolated fact, is a dull, dead, uninformed thing; no object nor event by itself can possibly give us any knowledge, we must compare it with some other, even to distinguish it; and it is the distinctive quality thus developed that constitutes the essence of a thing -- that is to say, that point by which we cognize and recognize it when again presented to us. A fact must be assimilated with, or discriminated fromm, some other fact or facts, in order to be raised to the dignity of a truth, and made to convey the least knowledge to the mind. To say, for instance, that in the year 1850 there were 26,813 criminal offenders in England and Wales, is merely to oppress the brain with the record of a fact that, per se, is so much mental lumber. This is the very mummery of statistics; of what rational good can such information by itself be to any person? who can tell whether the number of offenders in that year be large or small, unless they compare it with the number of some other year, or in some other country? but to do this will require another fact, and even then this second fact can give us but little real knowledge. It may teach us, perhaps, that the past year was more or less criminal than some other year, or that the people of this country, in that year, were more or less disposed to the infraction of the laws than some other people abroad; still, what will all this avail us? If the year which we select to contrast criminally with that of 1850 be not itself compared with other years, how are we to know whether the number of criminals appertaining to it be above or below the average? or, in other words, how can the one be made a measure of the other?
To give the least mental value to facts, therefore, we must generalize them, that is to say, we must contemplate them in connection with other facts, and so discover their agreements and differences, their antecedents, concomitants, and consequences. It is true we may frame erroneous and defective theories in so going; we may believe things which are similar in appearance to be similar in their powers and properties also; we may distinguish between things having no real difference; we may mistake concomitant events for consequences; we may generalize with too few particulars, and hastily infer that to be common to all which is but the special attribute of a limited number; nevertheless, if theory may occasionally teach us wrongly, facts without theory or generalization cannot possibly teach us at all. What the process of digestion is to food, that of generalizing is to fact; for as it is by the assimilation of the substances we eat with the elements of our bodies that our limbs are enlarged and our whole frames strengthened, so is it by associating perception with perception in our brains that our intellect becomes at once expanded and invigorated. Contrary to the vulgar notion, theory, that is to say, theory in its true baconian sense, is not opposed to fact, but consists rather of a large collection of facts; it is not true of this or that thing alone, but of all things belonging to the same class -- in a word, it consists not of one fact but an infinity. The theory of gravitation, for instance, expresses not only what occurs when a stone falls to the earth, but when every other body does the same thing; it expresses, moreover, what takes place in the revolution of the moon round our planet, and in the revolution of our planet and of all the other planets round the sun, and of all other suns round the centre of the universe; in fine, it is true not of one thing merely, but of every material object in the entire range of creation.
There are, of course, two methods of dealing philosophically with every subject -- deductively and inductively. We may either proceed from principles to facts, or recede from facts to principles. The one explains, the other investigates; the former applies known general rules to the comprehension of particular phenomena, and the latter classifies the particular phenomena, so that we may ultimately come to comprehend their unknown general rules. The deductive method is the mode of using knowledge, and the inductive method the mode of acquiring it.
In a subject like the crime and vice of the metropolis, and the country in general, of which so little is known -- of which there are so many facts, but so little comprehension -- it is evident that we must seek by induction, that is to say, by a careful classification of the known phenomena, to render the matter more intelligible; in fine, we must, in order to arrive at a comprehensive knowledge of its antecedents, consequences, and concomitants, contemplate as large a number of facts as possible in as many different relations as the statistical records of the country will admit of our doing.
With this brief preamble I will proceed to treat generally of the class that will not work, and then particularly of that portion of them termed prostitutes. But, first, who are those that will work, and who those that will not work? This is the primary point to be evolved.
But in the act of seeking for substances fitted to replace that which is lost in respiration, nerves must be excited and muscles moved; and recent discoveries have shown that such excitation and motion are attended with decomposition of the organs in which they occur. Muscular action gives rise to the destruction of muscular tissue, nervous action to a change in the nervous matter; and this destruction and decomposition necessarily involve a fresh supply of nitrogenous matter, in order that the loss may be repaired.
Now a tree, being inactive, has little or no waste. All the food that it obtains goes to the invigoration of its frame; not one atom is destroyed in seeking more: but the essential condition of animal life is muscular action; the essential condition of muscular action is the destruction of muscular tissue; and the essential condition of the destruction of muscular tissue is a supply of food fitted for the reformation of it, or -- death. It is impossible for an animal -- like a vegetable -- to stand still and not destroy. If the limbs are not moving, the heart is beating, the lungs playing, the bosom heaving. Hence an animal, in order to continue its existence, must obtain its subsistence either by its own exertions or by those of others -- in a word, it must be autobious or allobious.
The procuration of sustenance, then, is the necessary condition of animal life, and constitutes the sole apparent reason for the addition of the locomotive apparatus to the vegetative functions of sentient nature; but the faculties of comparison and volition have been further added to the animal nature of Man, in order to enable him, among othe things, the better to gratify his wants -- to give him such a mastery over the elements of material nature, that he may force the external world the more readily to contribute to his support. Hence the derangement of either one of those functions must degrade the human being -- as regards his means of sustenance -- to the level of the brute. If his intellect be impaired, and the faculty of perceiving "the fitness of things" be consequently lost to him -- or, this being sound, if the power of moving his muscles in compliance with his will be sufficient --then the individual becomes no longer capable, like his fellows, of continuing his existence by his own exertions.
Hence, in every state, we have two extensive causes of allobiism, or living by the labour of others; the one intellectual, as in the case of lunatics and idiots, and the other physical, as in the case of the infirm, the crippled, and the maimed -- the old and the young.
But a third, and a more extensive class, still remains to be particularized. The members of every community may be divided into the energetic and the an-ergetic; that is to say, into the hardworking and the non-working, the industrious and the indolent classes; the distinguishing characteristic of the anergetic being the extreme irksomeness of all labour to them, and their consequent indisposition to work for their subsistence. Now, in the circumstances above enumerated, we have three capital causes why, in every State, a certain portion of the community mut derive their subsistence from the exertions of the rest; the first proceeds from some physical defect, as in the case of the old and the young, the super-annuated and the sub-annuated, the crippled and the maimed; the second from some intellectual defect, as in the case of lunatics and idiots; and the third from some moral defect, as in the case of the indolent, the vagrant, the professional mendicant, and the criminal. In all civilized countries, there will necsesarily be a greater or less number of human parasites living on the sustenance of their fellows. The industrious must labour to spport the lazy, and the sane to keep the insane, and the able-bodied to maintain the infirm.
Still, to complete the social fabric, another class requires to be specified. As yet, regard has been paid only to those who must needs labour for their living, or who, in default of so doing, must prey on the proceeds of the industry of their more active or more stalwart breathren. There is, however, in all civilized society, a farther portion of the people distinct from either of those above mentioned, who, being already provided -- no matter how -- with a sufficient stock of sustenance, or what will exchange for such, have no occasion to toil for an additional supply.
Hence all society would appear to arrange itself into four different classes: --
I. Those that Will Work.
II. Those that Cannot Work.
III. Those that Will Not Work.
IV. Those that Need Not Work.
Under one or other section of this quadruple division, every member, not only of our community, but of every other civilized State, must necessarily be included; the rich, the poor, the industrious, the idle, the honest, the dishonest, the virtuous, and the vicious -- each and all must be comprised therein.
Let me now proceed specially to treat of each of these classes -- to distribute under one or other of these four categories the diverse modes of living peculiar to the members of our own community, and so to enunciate, for the first time, the natural history, as it were, of the industry and idleness of Great Britain in the nineteenth century.
It is no easy matter, however, to classify the different kinds of labour scientifically. To arrange the several varieties of work into "orders," and to group the manifold species of arts under a few comprehensive genera -- so that the mind may grasp the whole at one effort -- is a task of a most perplexing character. Moreover, the first attempt to bring any number of diverse phenomena within the rules of logical division is not only a matter of considerable difficulty, but one, unfortunately, that is generally unsuccessful. It is impossible, however, to proceed with the present inquiry without making some attempt at systematic arrangement; for of all scientific processes, the classification of the various phenomena, in connection with a given subject, is perhaps the most important; indeed, if we consider that the function of cognition is essentially discriminative, it is evident, that without distinguishing between one object and another, there can be no knowledge, nor, indeed, any perception. Even as the seizing of a particular difference causes the mind to apprehend the special character of an object, so does the discovery of the agreements and differences among the several phenomena of a subject enable the understanding to comprehend it. What the generalization of events is to the ascertainment of natural laws, the generalization of things is to the discovery of natural systems. But classification is no less dangerous than it is important to science; for in precisely the same proportion as a correct grouping of objects into genera and species, orders and varieties, expands and assists our understanding, so does any erroneous arrangement cripple and retard all true knowledge. The reduction of all external substances into four elements by the ancients -- earth, air, fire, and water --perhaps did more to obstruct the progress of chemical science than even a prohibition of the study could have effected.
But the branches of industry are so multifarious, the divisions of labour so minutes and manifold, that it seems at first almost impossible to reduce them to any system. Moreover, the crude generalizations expressed in the names of several arts, render the subject still more perplexing.
Some kinds of workmen, for example, are called after the articles they make -- as saddlers, hatters, boot-makers, dress- makers, breeches-makers, stay-makers, lace-makers, button-makers, glovers, cabinet-makers, artificial-flower-makers, ship-buildings, organ-builders, boat-builders, nailers, pin-makers, basket-makers, pump-makers, clock and watch makers, wheel-wrights, ship-wrights, and so forth.
Some operatives, on the other hand, take their names not from what they make, but from the kind of work they perform. Hence we have carvers, joiners, bricklayers, weavers, knitters, engravers, embroiderers, tanners, curriers, bleachers, thatchers, limeburners, glass-blowers, seamstresses, assayers, refiners, embossers, chasers, painters, paper-hangers, printers, book- binders, cabdrivers, fishermen, graziers, and so on.
Other artizans, again, are styled after the materials upon which they work, such as tinmen, jewellers, lapidaries, goldsmiths, braziers, plumbers, pewterers, glaziers, etc., etc.
And lastly, a few operatives are named after the tools they use; thus we have ploughmen, sawyers, and needlewomen.
But these divisions, it is evident, are as unscientific as they are arbitrary; nor would it be possible, by adopting such a classification, to arrive at any practical result.
1. Enrichers, as the Collectors, Extractors, or Producers of Exchangeable Commodities.II. Auxiliaries, as the Promoters of Production, or the Distributors of the Produce.
III. Benefactors, or those who confer some permanent benefit, as Educators and Curators engaged in promoting the physical, intellectual, or spiritual well-being of the people.
IV. Servitors, or those who render some temporary service, or pleasure, as Amusers, Protectors, and Servants.
V. Those who are provided for by some public Institution, as the Inmates of workhouses, prisons, hospitals, asylums, almshouses, dormitories, and refuges.VI. Those who are unprovided for, and incapacitated for labour, either from want of power, from want of means, or from want of employment.
VII. Vagrants.
VIII. Professional Beggars.
IX. Cheats.
X. Thieves.
XI. Prostitutes.
XII. Those who derive their income from rent.XIII. Those who derive their income from dividends.
XIV. Those who derive their income from yearly stipends.
XV. Those who derive their income from obsolete or nominal offices.
XVI. Those who derive their income from trades in which they do not appear.
XVII. Those who derive their income by favour from others.
XVIII. Those who derive their support from the head of the family.
[to Bracebidge Hemyng on Prostitution in London