Law -- England; Poor -- England; Poor laws -- England; Working class -- England
One can, after many years of it, learn to love even the County Court. You
have much the same outlook and experience of life and human nature as the
old bus driver. Every day brings you new passengers who accompany you for
a few minutes on the journey of life, and you get to know many old ones
and have a friendly crack with them over their domestic troubles.
Moreover, at moments your daily job brings you in near touch with the joys
and sorrows and trials and daily efforts of poor people, and once in a way
perhaps you can be of use, which to a child and to a grown-up who has any
of the child left in him is always a jolly thing. When you have really got
quite accustomed to enjoying your work the natural garrulity which your
friends lovingly attribute to senile decay stimulates you to make them
partners in your joy. The narrow circle in which you spend your daily life
has become your only world. You find yourself quoting with approval "with
aged men is wisdom, and in length of days understanding," and you begin to
believe you are the only person who really does understand. Childlike, you
find dragons in your path that you want to slay, pure and beautiful souls
are oppressed, and you fancy that you can release them from bondage; there
are giants of injustice and persecution in the land whose castles you mean
to turn into peoples' palaces. Then you sit down to write your fairy tales
again--but no longer for the children nowadays, since they are all grown
up. These fairy tales are for journalists, philanthropists and politicians
who make fairy tales and live on fairy tales; and believe me, there are no
more essential fairy tales than stories about legal reform. Only to the
writer are they real, and to one or two choice child spirits who never
grow old and still believe in a world where everyone is going to live
happily ever afterwards. The way in which Master Ogre, the Law, swallows
up the poor is quite like a real fairy tale, and it would have even a
happier likeness to the fiction of the nursery if we could tell of a Jack
the Giant Killer cutting off the wicked monster's head and rescuing his
victims.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account