CHAPTER IX.

_CONFLICT--LICENSE-LAW--ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM._

We turn from these peaceful contemplations to scenes of a different kind. Gentle as Mr. Balfour was, there was no lack of backbone within his gentleness. He was capable, on occasion, of overpowering severity. It is reported of him that he once witnessed a cowardly trick played upon a little child. His indignation was kindled, and the weight of his riding-whip left a sharp and long lesson on the memory of the offender.

This element of indignation, even of wrath, at that which he considered wilful wrong, sometimes led him very far. In one instance, a journalist had taken up a position which he deemed not only baseless but mean. For years after, he could scarcely hear the name of the journal or the journalist without an explosion of keen displeasure. There were some instances in which an unfavourable judgment was too persistently adhered to; but these cases were few and far between. Now it was a statesman whose conduct he thought void of principle, now it was a town-councillor. Such impressions once made seemed all but indelible. The intensity of his nature asserted itself, whether the judgment he formed was right or wrong. If he believed the path of honour had been left, under the cloak of some fair semblance, his thoughts and words were anything but mild. But he was slow to be convinced of wrongdoing in any man.

On one occasion a manservant in his household, who had been implicitly trusted, proved himself wholly and basely unworthy of such confidence. Mr. Balfour summoned him to his presence and gave him his dismissal. He made no charge, he said no word, but fixed his bright eye on the man with stern and withering condemnation. The culprit burst into tears, and left the room more abashed, than if ever so weighty a charge had been formulated against him.

Another phase of the same characteristic may be mentioned here. When Mr. Balfour had formed a fixed judgment on a matter affecting the welfare of the people, and had come to his own conclusions about the right way of dealing with it, he seemed to find it difficult to understand how any one could fail to see the subject as he saw it. He would meet a friend and pour his views and convictions into his ear, holding him fast the while with his penetrating eye. It seemed as though he could not leave him till he had swept away his objections, carried his judgment, and won his sympathy. If there was fault in this commanding, almost intolerant impetuosity, it was the fault of a noble nature, and committed in a noble cause.

When sallying forth on some errand which must bring him into conflict with fellow-citizens who, in his judgment, were the doers or the defenders of wrong, we have heard him nerve himself for the distasteful task, by quoting the words of the Apostle, “For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that He might destroy the works of the devil.” “We have got that to do too,” he would say, “as well as to build up the cause of righteousness.” And thus this man of peace prepared for war; this man of tender heart found himself not infrequently in the thick of heated controversy, and amid the din of stern conflict. “Well,” he would often repeat, “we are to destroy the works of the devil.”

“Christians are too _mealy-mouthed_ now-a-days,” he sometimes said. “Look at our Saviour; He spoke right out, and told in plain words what He meant. See with what blighting words He condemned the subterfuges and pretences of the Pharisees. His servants must have the courage to follow in His steps.”

Mr. Balfour felt as the heroic General Gordon felt when he penned these words, “There would be no one so unwelcome to come and reside in this world as our Saviour, while the world is in the state it now is. He would be dead against all our pursuits, and be altogether _outré_.” So Mr. Balfour was ready to be counted _outré_, ready to stand alone if need were, with his Master’s smile to cheer him. With that encouragement he buckled on his armour for the fight, fearing no foe, and deterred by no danger. He seemed ever to hear the counsel sounding in his ear, “Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them.”

In the years 1861, 1862, 1863, a policy, in reference to the licensing question, was in the ascendant among the Magistrates of Liverpool, the fatal consequences of which are bitterly felt and deplored to this day. It was the policy of free-trade in licenses. This policy wrought such mischief that it was found necessary, in answer to the protests of an injured and indignant people, speedily to put an end to it. But in the meantime a large number of public-houses had been added, in a town already groaning under an excessive supply. The grants were made in a few months: the labours of many years have only partially succeeded in cancelling them. No doubt the intention of the Justices was good, but their ill-considered action brought a blight upon the city. Drunkenness increased, crime increased, mortality increased. The free-trade policy in licensing was not the only factor, but it was a powerful factor. The drink-interest gained a dangerous ascendency in the affairs of the town; and the fears of a hundred and twenty-three medical men of the borough, who, in the crisis of the free-trade policy, had memorialised the Bench of Magistrates, were more than justified. The brief but weighty words they used were these:--“Your memorialists regard with alarm and regret the increase, of late years, in the number and magnitude of public-houses in the borough, believing, from personal observation, that thereby disease and death are greatly increased.”

In the year 1874 matters had reached such a pitch that public indignation could no longer be repressed. At that period the _Times_ referred to the state of the town in the following terms:--“The condition of Liverpool, whether from a sanitary or moral point of view, is as far as possible from satisfactory. The death-rate of the town has for many years past exceeded the average of English mortality, and by the last return of the Registrar-General it is absolutely the highest of any of the eighteen large English towns of which particulars are supplied.... We should incline to infer that the increase in crimes of drunkenness has been very closely connected with the increase in crimes of violence.... It would seem, upon a review of the whole evidence, that the criminal statistics and the health statistics of Liverpool point to the same conclusion: Liverpool is a town whose leading inhabitants are negligent of their duties as citizens.”

This indictment was but the echo of what was being said in Liverpool itself. It may be inferred what were the convictions, and what the feelings, of men like Mr. Balfour under such a state of things. It was felt that all veils and disguises must be torn aside, that daylight must be let in upon many indefensible practices, and that the moral sentiment of the community must be invoked to overbear the self-interest of those--rich or poor--who were preying, like vultures, on the vitals of the community. His spirit was stirred within him, and along with like-minded citizens he resolved at all hazards and at any cost, “to battle against banded wrong.”

“Thrice blest is he to whom is given The instinct that can tell That God is in the field, when He Is most invisible.

Blest too is he who can divine Where real right doth lie, And dares to take the side that seems Wrong to man’s blindfold eye.”

One autumn afternoon in 1874, when the present writer was riding in company with Mr. Balfour from Mount Alyn to Hawarden, this subject was the theme of conversation. The condition of our city was discussed; the degraded poverty of portions of it, to which we had been able to find no parallel on the continent of Europe, from Hammerfest to Palermo, from Moscow to Madrid. We spoke of the crime and pauperism which have so largely their root in strong drink. We spoke of our jails and police-establishments, which, with the taxes they necessitate, might be reduced by one-half, if excessive drinking were restrained. We spoke of the children of the drunkard made orphans, or worse than orphans. We spoke of the weird fact that every year in our Christian city there is a sacrifice, to the god of strong drink, of infants whose number cannot be accurately ascertained, but the source of whose suffocation is clearly indicated by the fact that infants are “overlaid” by their mothers most freely on Saturday and Sunday nights, after wages are paid, and that they are less exposed to this peril on Thursday and Friday, when wages are exhausted:--the slaughter of the innocents. We spoke of the preparations which may be witnessed in certain charity-supported institutions in Liverpool, to receive the wounded and the bleeding who appear after the public-houses close, between eleven at night and one in the morning, especially on Saturday nights, with as much certainty as if we lived on the edge of a battlefield;--the row of bandages hung up in readiness, the lint to stanch the wounds, the surgeon waiting to minister to persons of either sex and every age, bruised with the fist of the drunkard, mauled with the poker of the city savage, or hacked with the broken bottle of the sunken sot, in the midnight brawl. We spoke of the undeniable fact that the police, who are appointed to restrain drunkenness, crime, and violence, are too often tampered with, “free drinks” being copiously put at their disposal, by keepers of public-houses, where close inspection might lead to heavy penalties.

We knew it; we had seen it all. And we knew that the depths of the moral degradation of our brothers and sisters, fed from the same poisoned source, had never been penetrated by human eye. Were we to take our ease while all this was going on? Were we to speak of such horrors with bated breath while a malign influence, which had gradually worked its way to power among us, was exerted to stifle inquiry and to gather godless gain from the headlong ruin of men, women, and children? As we looked on Mr. Balfour’s countenance, determined and intense, we were reminded of the words of the prophet: “His word was in my heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not stay.”

Our pace quickened and our blood quickened as we rode in the keen air and dwelt on the keen topic. What was to be done? What step was to be taken? Various schemes were suggested, and that evening, ere our horses were stabled, it was resolved that, with the concurrence of parties concerned, a Clerical Conference should be summoned in Liverpool to consider the whole position. A general Clerical Conference had recently been held in Manchester: that in Liverpool was to be local. Such a Conference, consisting of ministers of religion of all denominations in Liverpool, was speedily summoned. It proved to be a most influential meeting. Among other resolutions, one was adopted calling upon the Mayor, in view of the circumstances above adverted to, to summon a public meeting of the inhabitants “to consider the causes of these evils, and the remedies that may be applied.”

Such was the character of the dominant influence at that time, that the Mayor refused to call a town’s meeting. As might have been anticipated, this attempt at repression only impelled the memorialists to take further steps in the same direction. Accordingly a careful canvass of Liverpool was undertaken. The householders were asked whether they were in favour of the effective control of public-houses and beer-houses by an adequate staff of inspectors; of lessening the number of houses, especially by withdrawal of licenses after convictions; of shortening the hours of sale; of entire Sunday closing. These questions were answered in the affirmative by varying but vast majorities.[G]

A great meeting was held in the Philharmonic Hall, under the presidency of Thomas Matheson, Esq., to declare the result of the canvass, and to take action upon it. It was felt that the juncture demanded the appointment of a Vigilance Committee to watch over the matter; this accordingly was done.

Mr. Balfour was made a member of the Vigilance Committee, and his whole soul went along with the movement. Results of the greatest value flowed from the action described; and there can be no doubt that the Mayor’s refusal to call a town’s meeting supplied the necessary impulse to the movement.

The need for such an effort as that rapidly sketched may be inferred from the fact that in 1874 there were 23,303 cases of drunkenness reported in the Chief-Constable’s annual statement, while the number of publicans convicted for permitting drunkenness was only three. In 1875 the number of publicans convicted for permitting drunkenness rose to fifty-seven. This is but one evidence of the necessity which existed, for demanding from the authorities, a firmer and more faithful administration of the laws bearing on intemperance.

While others were labouring outside, Mr. Balfour felt compelled to carry on the battle in his place in the Town Council, of which he was at that time a member. The Watch Committee of the Council in particular, came in for severe criticism. A great point had been scored in the direction of sobriety and order by the town’s canvass; and Mr. Balfour was not the man to leave the weapon furnished, unemployed.

The following extracts may suffice to show the intensity of his convictions and the earnestness of his pleadings. He laid before the Watch Committee a “memorandum” bearing date the 24th June 1875. In it he says:--“The facts must be brought to light, and an honest judgment on these must be formed and expressed, however unpleasant the duty may be. The mind of the people of our town has now been ascertained, and it is declared _against_ the abounding temptations to intemperance. Our authorities are bound to respect that expression of opinion and those wishes, and to take the necessary steps to have these abounding temptations diminished.

“These temptations have been multiplied in Liverpool to such an extent, as is on all hands admitted to be unjustifiable. Round the Sailors’ Home, where my own men are paid their wages, within a radius of a hundred and fifty yards, the Magistrates have licensed forty-six public-houses. Now one would have thought that the Magistrates, both in their individual and corporate capacity, would have been anxious to encourage the establishment, near the Sailors’ Home, only of places to promote temperance and sobriety and good conduct, and to discourage every enticement to immorality; but, instead of this, house after house has been licensed for the sale of spirits, in most of which prostitutes are allowed to entice seamen to their ruin; and at these houses not only is there drinking, but also music, and in several of them, dancing.

“As a shipowner, I feel bound to say, the Magistrates in licensing such an undue number of public-houses round the Sailors’ Home, and the Watch Committee in leaving these public-houses and music saloons practically uncontrolled, have betrayed the interests of my men; and I must point out that we, as a firm, suffer grievous prejudice from the losses brought upon our seamen through these manifold temptations, as our men, instead of getting to their families with their money in their pockets, are entrapped in public-houses, where they too often spend all their hard-won earnings, and do not have a penny left for the purchase of their outfit for a new voyage....

“The present condition of matters is, I deeply grieve to say, fraught with disgrace to our authorities, and beyond all other evils is causing this most grave one, that the community feel distrust at the manner in which the authorities have dealt, and are dealing, with the besetting evil and crime of our town, and that the well-disposed inhabitants do not enjoy the protection which the law provides.”

After pleading for the appointment of a staff of well-paid inspectors of public-houses, he continues:--

“As matters now exist, the cost to the town of police and jails is enormous, and wholly unjustifiable, seeing that by energetic steps and effective execution of the Habitual Criminals Act, and of the Acts relating to public-houses, crime would be prevented, and a great saving effected in the sum now expended merely to punish crime. I cannot help saying that it is intolerable that the crime of causing people to become drunk, and of supplying drink to young children, should be committed every day with impunity by persons deriving pecuniary gain from the transaction, and that the whole weight of punishment should fall on the drunkard, who too often is merely the victim.

“I ought not to conclude without expressing the gratification I feel that, as the result of an impartial canvass of the householders of Liverpool, 41,079 replies are given in favour of the effective control of public-houses and beer-houses by an adequate staff of inspectors, against 6633 who have expressed a contrary opinion; and it will be my hope that the representatives of the inhabitants may carry out the request, so generally and so earnestly made.”

At a subsequent meeting of the Town Council, when the same question was under discussion, Mr. Balfour spoke as follows:--

“With reference to the extraordinary palliations urged by the Watch Committee for the frightful condition of our community, I will only remark that the Committee seem to make no account of the fact that at the last assizes there were seven persons tried for murder, all of whose offences arose more or less directly, from excessive drinking. I feel that if a record of agrarian crime equal to that had occurred in Ireland, the whole country would have been in agitation, and the Imperial Government would at once have interfered, and placed the districts where it occurred under something like martial law.... The Watch Committee dwell upon the importance of moral means towards reducing drunkenness, but those with whom I act point out, that moral means have no chance alongside of the immoral agencies which our authorities have planted and fostered in our town.... I am a farmer, and know very well that before I can get a field to produce a proper crop of good grain, it is necessary for me to dig out the thistles and the thorns.... I do most fervently desire that the authorities of Liverpool shall deal with the unparalleled condition of our town through drunkenness, as the greatness of the evil demands, and that now, when we to some degree apprehend its extent, we shall apply remedies in due proportion to the exigencies of the case.”

The result of this controversy was the appointment of a staff of public-house inspectors, but not on a scale at all adequate, in the opinion of Mr. Balfour and his friends, nor under such conditions as to give security against the obvious danger of the inspectors being tampered with, by the men whom they are appointed to watch.

We do not purpose entering further into detail on the questions raised above. Enough has been said to indicate the energy and fervour which Mr. Balfour threw into the discharge of his difficult duties. How difficult those duties were, and how much strain they threw upon his strength, may be imagined by those who consider the love of the man for all gentleness and goodness, and the delight he had in living in peace and harmony with those with whom he associated. But where duty called him he would go, and what principle demanded he would do. He translated into action the stirring words of the poet:--

“Perish policy and cunning, Perish all that fears the light, Whether losing, whether winning, Trust in God and do the right.

Some will hate thee, some will love thee, Some will flatter, some will slight; Cease from man and look above thee, Trust in God and do the right.”

Many branches of the temperance reform, for which Mr. Balfour laboured, brought him into sharp conflict with some wealthy citizens interested in the traffic in strong drink. He made, for instance, a heavy onslaught upon a practice which prevailed on the sale of licensed premises, required for public improvements. A large price was paid for such premises by the Corporation because they were licensed; and then a demand was made for the removal to another district, of the license attached to such premises. Men had grown rich on practices like these. Mr. Balfour’s moral sense was outraged; he took in hand some leading and notorious cases of the kind, and, with the dogged persistence and dauntless courage which were in him, he fought the battle. With a ruthless hand he tore away the disguises under which such proceedings had been veiled, and laid the community under lasting obligation, for the work he did. Such a task cannot be achieved without incurring the enmity of some. But so evident was the righteousness of his purpose and the simplicity of his heart, that he was honoured for his work by his fellow-citizens in general, and credited with the purest motives even by those of his colleagues in the Council who differed from him.

He would have been more than human if, amid the contendings of the Town Council, with a heart burning with desire for the redress of the wrongs under which thousands in his own loved town were groaning, and with a lofty nature incapable of the faintest shadow of sympathy with meanness or unrighteousness, though perpetrated by men of wealth and position, he had always spoken with unruffled calmness, or preserved a temper in perfect balance, or proposed measures at once the wisest and most practical. We claim for him no such perfection; but this we venture to affirm, on the authority of some who have the best means of judging, that the unquestionable purity of his motives, and the unvarying loftiness of his aims, did not a little to elevate the tone of the Town Council, and in the most salutary way to affect the community at large.

His diaries reveal him often bending in prayer for help and guidance in the difficult work to which, he believed, God had called him in the Town Council. With a faith that did not fail, and a courage that knew no wavering, he addressed himself to his stern task.

He was an active member, and for some years President, of “The Liverpool Popular Control and Sunday-Closing Association,” whose chief aim was to secure “the effective control of the liquor-traffic by the ratepayers,” and which sought meantime such objects as the following: viz., lessening the number of public-houses, shortening the hours of sale, Sunday-closing, thorough inspection, building up of back entrances to public-houses, and the like.

The eminently practical aims of this Society were exactly to his mind. His desire was to do as much as could be safely done at once, and with this object to unite all who were the enemies of excessive drinking.

A decided impulse was given to the cause in 1883 by the issue, under the auspices of this Association, of the “Drink-Map of the city of Liverpool,” in which each public-house was indicated by a red mark.[H] So blotted and blurred with scarlet spots were certain portions of the city, frequented by sailors or inhabited by the very poor, that the map was humorously described as “Liverpool in scarlet fever.” Persons who had not carefully examined the subject could scarcely believe that the map was not a caricature, or take in the fact that they dwelt in a city so pestilently drink-smitten. The silent appeal of the Drink-Map has not been without its influence in the great struggle that had to be waged. It was often employed by Mr. Balfour as an unanswerable argument.

Mr. Balfour’s vigilance, about everything bearing on Temperance Reform, continued to the end, and was not abated when he was sinking under the influence of a mortal malady. During his own last illness, the Recorder of Liverpool died. On the 8th of February 1886 Mr. Balfour wrote to us as follows:--“You will see that the Recorder has been taken away. I think we ought at once to appeal to the Mayor and Town Council, to urge that precautions be taken, respecting the appointment of his successor, so that he shall not practise as a barrister in the local courts, nor be a standing counsel for publicans. I would esteem it a favour if you would kindly consider the whole subject.... If you would arrange for the Committee of the Popular Control Association to meet some afternoon and consider a memorial, I should try to be present and give such aid as I can.” The meeting was held accordingly, and the sick man was there, as eager as in the days of highest health, to sweep away an unquestionable and most mischievous abuse. On the 22nd of February, as President of the Popular Control Association, he signed a memorial to the Town Council in which the evil is laid bare. The memorial contains these words:--“That the same person should, on one day, plead as a barrister, in favour of Publicans appealing from the City Bench to the County Bench, on the Transfer and Removal of Licenses, and should on another day, as Recorder, hear and adjudicate on appeals by Publicans (possibly his former clients), when convicted by the City Bench of violations of the Licensing Law--is calculated, in the judgment of this Association, to prejudice the interests of justice, and to bring discredit on the administration of law.” Mr. Balfour also signed an appeal to the Home Office on the same subject. The matter is of interest as showing with what tenacity the dying man pursued to the last, by every means in his power, the objects for which he lived. It may be mentioned that the end he sought has been practically attained.

It is pleasant to be able to close this recital by the statement, that since Mr. Balfour and his friends began this conflict in Liverpool, with drunkenness and death, many influences have conspired to bring about a better state of things. The number of public-houses has sensibly diminished, crimes of violence have abated, and the death-rate has largely decreased, being, at the time we write, lower than it has ever been since health statistics began to be tabulated.

An aged citizen who, in his boyhood, lived at the verge of “the old churchyard,” tells us of a quaint inscription on a gravestone, which he often pondered with awe as a child, but which has long since been effaced. It ran thus:--

“This town’s a Corporation Full of crooked streets; Death is the Market-place, Where all men meets. If life was merchandise That men could buy, The rich would surely live, The poor must die.”

If there ever was a time in Liverpool when the feelings of the rich toward the poor were such as are suggested in these lines, that time is passing, and must pass, away, as certainly as the old letters graven on the tombstone. The man we speak of in this volume--and he did not stand alone--spared neither pains nor fortune that he might elevate and bless the poor.