But away with this question! I find I am getting
the whip out, although I promised not to thrash this
wretched old economic hack. Only just one little
parting crack of the lash. Dealing with “unearned
increment” being an impracticability, perhaps
it would be well for landlords who benefit immensely
by the accident of circumstances to recognise the fact
that they do pocket a great “unearned
increment,” and be ungrudgingly generous in
return for benefits received. If this were done
the names of suburban landlords would not be received
with such derision and contempt as they are sometimes
now, and “unearned increment” would become
all but an obsolete phrase.
Then and now.
Great indeed are the changes that have taken place
in Birmingham during the past forty or fifty years.
I do not speak merely in regard to the growth, appearance,
and the commercial progress of the town and city,
but in respect to the life and habits of the people—especially
the better class of the inhabitants.
Half a century ago many of the well-to-do prosperous
manufacturers were practical men—men who
had worked at the bench and the lathe, and, from being
workmen, had become masters. There were not so
many manufactories then as now, and the leading manufacturers
found themselves in the happy position of men who
were “getting on” and becoming rich.
Men as a rule are, perhaps, more happy when they find
they are making money than when they have made it,
and have nothing to do but to spend it, or to puzzle
their brains as to how they shall do so. “Oh!
Jem,” piteously said a man I knew, to his nephew,
“what am I to do with that ten thousand pounds
a-lying at the bank?”
When “getting on,” men go to their various
businesses day after day and find orders rolling in
and goods going out, and themselves prospering and
becoming better and better off, they are disposed to
be contented, well pleased with their neighbours,
and well satisfied with themselves. So with these
old Birmingham manufacturers. They were well content,
genial, and hospitable. They did not give themselves
any fine airs or pretensions; indeed, they were often
proud of their success and prosperity, and would sometimes
delight in openly boasting of their humble beginnings,
not always to the joy and delight of their children
who might hear them. They were sociable, hospitable,
generous-hearted, open-handed men. They gave
bountiful entertainments, not of a mere formal give-and-take
character in which the feast largely consists of plate,
fine linen, and flowers, the eatables on the side table,
and too much remaining there. They delighted
in welcoming their friends; they liked to put a good
spread on the board, and to see their guests eat,
drink, and be merry.
In my younger days I knew what it was to enjoy the
hospitalities of some of these wealthy manufacturers,
and I can call to mind some little—I should
say large—dinners, in which I have participated,
the like of which are, I fancy, rarely seen now.
Let me briefly describe one of these informal, old-fashioned,
friendly feasts.
