The Sun.
London, England, 1844-04-10 00:00:00

THE INCLOSURE BILL.

This is the ag6 of practical utilitarianism. Cui
bono? What will it fetch ? How much per cent.?
What profit will it yield ? is the interrogative reply
with which, virtually and in effect, if not in so many
words, every proposal is met, every scheme tested,
and the merits of, we really believe, every single
created thing beneath the sun be it what it may, as
far as possible, estimated, in this stirring and enlight-
ened generation. Times have been, it is true, when
the age has been more professedly :elfish—when the
surface has shown more unblushingly, and in deeper
colours, the external badge and symbol of the fashion-
able self philosophy which was current ; times have
indeed been,—we might point, in illustration of our
remark, to the latter part of the last century, with
its infidel "philosophy " and its universal laxity
of manners,—when, taking men individually,
society has been more thoroughly, as well as more
avowedly, imbued with the principles and practice
embodied in the belief that everything whatsoever is
convertible into pecuniary gain, and that all else—
health, happiness, morals, religion—is as nothing in
comparison with this. This, so far as general society
is concerned, must, we gladly acknowledge, be con-
ceded in favour of the present generation, or rather
against those which have preceded it ; but for legis-
lating upon utilitarian principles,—for embodying in
public enactments, made for the benefit (!) not of the
lawgivers but of others,—the detestable morality of
Hobbes and Hume and Gibbon ;—for realising in
practice that species of political morality which holds
that man is no more than an impersonation of capital

—a mere representative of so much "labour"--that
charity is only a falsification of economy—and that
that " benefit of the governed," which it is universally
conceded ought to be the object of every Government
—is nothing else than the highest possible state of
"productiveness" to which the aforesaid subject mul-
titude may be brought; for legislation of this sort,
we say, give us the days of King William and Queen
Victoria, for certainly, never before, since England
was a nation, has this sort of thing been more con-
sistently carried out within the walls of Parliament.
We might, of course, instance at once many and
many a case in which this school of political doctrine
has found only too practical an operation ; many such
cases will doubtless occur to our readers ; we will,
however, confine ourselves to-day to a single instance,
not perhaps the most prominent one, but which we
notice now in connexion with these remarks, because,
for one reason, it is a case where there is still hope,
or at least room, for change, inasmuch as it is still
pending ; and, for a second, because it is a case of
itself, and intrinsically, of no small moment to that
much abused class, whose nominal benefit it professes
to seek—videlicet, the poor.
We have, indeed, often already impugned Lord
Worsley's Enclosure Bill on other—perhaps more
substantial, as they are certainly the first and most
obvious—grounds of objection, viz. as being simply a
measure of spoliation—a wrong—an injustice—be its
other merits or demerits what they may.
We have impeached it, too, on its own grounds ;
we have shown that as a matter of pounds, shillings,
and pence—as a mere question of utilitarianism, and
nothing else—and supposing utilitarianism the best
thing in the world, this Bill must needs entail a loss
upon the poor owner (we call him the owner, for his
right of common is to him as valuable and as much
his own, as the fee-simple of the manor is the lord's),
as depriving him of his pasturage for the sake of
securing to the neighbouring landowners a few more
acres of park or game preserves.
We have argued the question on these grounds—
but there is yet another,—one indicated in our open-
ing remarks, and one, we think of no less weight, oe
which at least ought to be of no little weight, with
any one who has at heart the very vital health,
moral and mental, as well as bodily,—to say nothing
of the mere pleasure and relaxation,—of the poor
for whom he professes, or is supposed, to legislate.
The wide green common is the poor man's park ;
the heath is his garden ; the open fields are his
pleasure grounds. He has none other. Near large
towns especially, and, to come nearer home, in the
neighbourhood of the metropolis, Lord Worsley's
Inclosure Bill would be principally and especially
odious, not, or at least not so much, on account of
the mere loss to the neighbouring poor of the value
of the land, as on account of the deprivation to the
poor, pale, dingy inhabitants of the smoky brick in-
closures which spread far and wide in the no remote
distance, of their only outlets to health and enjoy-
ment. No amount of money, we boldly say, could,
even if the money went to them, recompense the poor
of this great city for the loss of Hampstead-heath,
Kennington, or Clapham-common. Lord Worsley's
Bill, indeed, is, as an inclosure of these and similar
grounds, diametrically opposed to the admitted prin-
ciple of the Legislature in sanctioning the Victoria
Park and the other metropolitan improvements which
have been set on foot within the last few years. It is
with unfeigned pleasure, therefore, that we see that
an effort at least is to be made to rescue these often-
assailed blessings—for blessings they are—and, if
once lost, irreparable ones—from Lord Worsley's
clutches. An amendment is proposed, and we ear-
nestly hope it will be conceded at once without op-
position, to the effect that the Act shall not " autho-
rise the inclosure of any common lands, fields, or
downs, within ten miles of London, or within four
miles of any other city having 4,000, or within two
miles of any other city having 2,000, inhabitants."
We say that the inclosure of the suburban (espe-
cially the metropolitan) heaths and commons would
be neither more nor less than the sacrifice to Mam-
mon of the lives, and healths, and property of
the multitude of the poor pent within the confines
of our large cities. It would be legislating for
them (or rather against them) upon principles
which no man would think for an instant tenable,
much less applicable, in his own case. Why do not
gentlemen put under tillage their own pleasure gar-
dens, or parks, or chases ? The proceeding would,
doubtless, be profitable—and the sum total of the
productive land of the country would be greatly en-
hanced—and the economists beyond measure de-
lighted. "Why, then, is it not done ? Simply, be-
cause gentlemen know very well, when the affair is
their own, that there are other things to be looked to
besides the mere maximum of production, and that
there are things to be sought besides money, and
which no money can purchase. -Why, then, we ask,
do they not apply this same rule to the case of the
poor ? The suburban commons are their gardens,
their parks, their pleasure-grounds. Why must they
be compelled to give these up to be turned into money
—and that, too, when the money, after all, will not
go to them ? " They must answer to me for these
things," poor Charles Lamb used to say, every time
he marked the loss, one by one, of the few and little
comforts and refreshments which the increasing rapa-
city of the age swallowed away from the unhappy
denizens of the brick alleys among which he was
born, and so long lived; and, assuredly, if Hamp-
stead-heath, or Epping-forest, or Wimbledon, or
Streatham commons, are allowed to be among the
things thus " to be answered for" to the helpless poor
of this great city, the account will be no light one.
We heartily wish Mr. Berkeley's amendment the
success which it so thoroughly deserves.—Times.