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THE TAXES ON KNOWLEDGE—AMERICAN EXPERIENCES

Two important phases of Cassell's life fell in the 'fifties. One was his share in the great fight to rid the country of the "Taxes on Knowledge." The other was his exploration of social life and business possibilities in the United States.

Cassell had made his appearance as a campaigner against the newspaper advertisement duty as early as 1849, when John Francis formed his London Committee for the repeal of that odious impost. Cassell, representing his Standard of Freedom on the committee, was associated with Peter Borthwick, of the Morning Post; Herbert Ingram, of the Illustrated London News, who afterwards became M.P. for Boston; and the celebrated Edward Miall, of the Nonconformist. They won their battle, after four years' fighting, in 1853. But before that date Cassell had earnestly taken up two other causes, which were of far greater professional and financial consequence to him—the repeal of the Newspaper Stamp Duty and the abolition of the Paper Tax. He gave evidence before the Government Committee on the stamp duty in 1851, and joined Milner Gibson's Association for Repealing the Taxes on Knowledge, in company with Cobden, Bright, Joseph Hume, Holyoake, and Passmore Edwards. Seven years later he was chairman of the committee of a new association which took over the organization of the final attack on these taxes, the Newspaper and Periodical Press Association for Obtaining the Repeal of the Paper Duty.

Cassell's eagerness to free paper and periodical publications from the burden that oppressed them can easily be understood. They interfered with his ideal—the ​widest possible circulation of "educational" books and papers—and they were an enormous drain upon his pocket. The taxes on the paper used in printing "The Family Bible" amounted to £3,000 a year. In 1858 the paper duty cost Cassell altogether between seven and eight thousand pounds. He entered vigorously into the work of the new association. With Francis and Henry Vizetelly (who was secretary) he went on a mission to Ireland and Scotland to set up local branches.

His opening meeting in Ireland was notable for a speech in which he lucidly set out the case for repeal. He lamented the absence of educational chances for the Children of the poor; in England and Wales, the child population between the ages of eight and fifteen was estimated at 4,900,000, of whom only 2,040,000 attended school; the other 2,860,000 had no instruction whatever. "I myself," he said, "although largely engaged in publishing, am not a publisher by trade and profession, but took it up actuated by the desire to educate the class from which I myself sprung. I know that in the manufacturing districts of England there are thousands and thousands of uneducated individuals—so uneducated that they cannot read. I know that when I arrived at the period of manhood I could not tell what a noun or a verb was, but I could read and be guided by my own experience. I know that if he can simply read, every working man thus possesses the key to the temple of knowledge, by which he can open its portals and penetrate into its innermost recesses and most secret cabinets."

Cassell was one of the speakers when Milner Gibson led his deputation to Lord Derby on the subject in February, 1859. With all our boasted advances in civilization, he told the Minister, with all our educational societies and social science conferences, and with the efforts of all our leading Statesmen for the elevation of the nation, we were "the only nation which imposed a tax on the great medium of communicating knowledge to the people."

​He used his pen in the cause, as well as his voice. And there was bite in his writing, as these sentences from an article in the Working Man's Friend will show. "What," he asks, "can be more ridiculously grotesque than for a Government to weep over the ignorance of its subjects, and tax knowledge to the tune of a million? Were it not for the cruelty and wickedness of the thing, its bare mention would make us laugh for a month. The clergy are, forsooth, in throes over the ignorance of the masses; the dissenters, too, cry day and night because of the deplorable degradation of the masses; my Lord Ashley and the Ragged School folks cannot sleep for the horror that these 'untutored savages' excite. Some of them are so deeply moved that they are even asking whether it might not be worth while to have fewer hounds and puppies and more schools; still, so tremendous a sacrifice must not be made without due deliberation. Parliament is touched to its very core on this momentous point, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer is full of sympathy and benevolence; and the glorious result is that knowledge is taxed upwards of a million a year, and less than one-tenth of the ill-gotten treasure is given back to the people. This conduct on the part of the Government, clergy, dissenters, patriots, and philanthropists is not only inconsistent, but it is very oppressive, irreligious, and cruel."

When Gladstone abolished the Paper Duty in 1861, the work of the associations came to a glad end. Cassell was with them to the close, and subscribed to the fund for winding up the accounts and to the testimonial to Milner Gibson.

Cassell first went to America on Temperance business. In 1853 he represented the National Temperance Society at the World's Temperance Convention in New York, and, though he stayed only a few weeks, was there long enough to be stirred by the anti-slavery agitation. He went across again in the spring of 1854 to investigate the conditions of the publishing trade in the United States. This ​time he was the guest of Henry Ward Beecher, and during his stay was introduced to Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. The authoress gave him a copy of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" to read, with a view to its publication in England. Cassell, with his anti-slavery opinions, was a sympathetic and interested reader, but he could not make up his mind how the classic of the anti-slavery campaign would strike the general reader in England. He hit upon the ingenious idea of testing the question through his own daughter. Having read the book, she pronounced it "splendid." That settled Cassell's doubts. He then and there determined to bring out an English edition with illustrations by George Cruikshank. It scored a huge success, and was followed by another bit of Abolitionist propaganda—the publication of an "Uncle Tom's Cabin Almanack," which adorned the walls of thousands of English homes the next year.

The slave controversy moved Cassell's warmest feelings. He went deeply into the case on each side, and from his notes on these inquiries compiled a series of articles which he published on his return. One characteristic incident came under his personal notice. It was concerned with the "underground railway" by which slaves escaped from their masters. In Cincinnati he called upon a leading citizen and found him enclosing a five-dollar bill in an envelope. "You could scarcely conjecture," said the citizen, "for what purpose this is intended. Well, I will tell you. This is a contribution towards helping a poor fellow along the underground railroad. The person to whom I send it will not know whence it comes. There will be no address on the envelope, nor will there be any name or sign to signify the sender. Why, my dear sir, if it could be proved that I had assisted this piece of property to carry itself off, the owner would at once sue me in the United States Circuit Court for the full value of his chattel." "And where is this poor fugitive?" Cassell inquired. "Oh, he is safe," was the reply, "but his owner is in the city, and he ​declares, by all the powers in the world above and the world below, that he will have him. But he won't!" "'Is it possible for me to see this man in his hiding-place?" asked Cassell. "For that matter, I hardly know," was the reply; "for though I have contributed some hundreds of dollars to aid in the transit of these men who have fled from bondage, I have never seen one of their secret places of refuge, but, as you are an Englishman, I think you may be able to see the man to aid whose escape I send these five dollars."

"We set out accordingly," wrote Cassell, "passing up and down many streets until we stood before a door. My friend knocked, and presently a coloured man appeared. He was a servant, and in answer to our inquiries he said his master was out. A little whispering took place, the negro rolled his dark, bright eyes, apparently assenting to what was said by sundry serious nods, and at the same time bestowed upon me one of the most searching glances I have ever encountered. At length the man took upon himself the serious responsibility of revealing to us the fugitive's hiding-place, which I must leave to the reader's imagination, for the Fugitive Slave Act is still law, and the underground railway still in operation.

"Following the direction given to us, we found ourselves once more at a door. My friend knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. Probably he did not give the precise number of taps agreed upon by the fugitive and his protector, for no response was made.

"A few more taps followed, but elicited no sign of life. 'Come,' said my friend, a little out of patience, 'open the door; don't be afraid; we are your friends.' A movement was heard within, and very gently the door was opened by the width of an inch. Again my friend spoke: 'Do not be afraid, here is an Englishman; surely he will not scare you.'

"That name was the Open Sesame of the Arabian tale. ​I confess that my emotion overcame me as I looked upon this hunted fellow-being, who had committed no crime, but who, in this so-called land of liberty, had shown himself worthy of his freedom by the intelligence, the courage, and the fortitude he had displayed in his endeavour to obtain it. I conversed with him and found him a most valuable piece of property, whether owned by himself or another. He was a blacksmith, and had fled from Tennessee. His anxiety was great, owing to the fact that his master was on his track, and he had only escaped capture by the perilous feat of swimming across the Ohio. I am happy to say that this man afterwards got clear off to British territory."

In 1859, during the period of semi-partnership with Petter and Galpin, Cassell crossed the Atlantic for a longer business visit. Convinced that he could do a highly profitable trade with America, he had no hesitation in leaving La Belle Sauvage to the care of his associates for a considerable time while he developed the interests of the firm in the New World. His wife and daughter accompanied him on what proved to be a most interesting journey through the United States and Canada, fruitful not only of business but of much sagacious reflection and comparison.

New York had grown enormously in the five years since Cassell last saw it. But the great city did not impress him favourably. The municipal spirit, which even then was strong in England, seemed to have a frail existence in America, and the public amenities of an English town were nearly all absent. "The state of the streets," he said, "was so bad as to surpass ordinary powers of description. The arrangements for removing dust from the houses in the best part of the city would be ridiculous if not cruel. On rising in the morning and looking from my window in the hotel, I observed a number of carts passing to and fro, a man being in the shafts of each cart, and three dogs underneath. These carts were the recognized means by which rubbish was removed from the ​houses of the wealthy; its removal from the dwellings of the poor being considered unnecessary. During the first weeks of our stay our rest was continually disturbed by the fire-bells booming slowly through the still, clear air. I frequently got out of bed in the early hours to watch the firemen as they dragged their engines, with much toil and difficulty, through the miry streets, and shouted and urged each other on. During the day there were many volunteers to draw the engines, so that the firemen reached the scene with less fatigue, but it is evident that by day or night much valuable time must be lost by this primitive method of moving the engines from place to place."

Cassell's business placed him in close relation not alone with publishers and booksellers, but with authors and journalists, and with other and various types of trader and professional man. His letters strongly recall Dickens's earlier accounts of Uncle Sam's institutions in the time before the Civil War.

"So strong a feeling exists against exclusiveness in any form," he wrote, "that privacy is a luxury rarely to be enjoyed. There are no private offices, for instance, in the country; a man's place of business is a public thoroughfare. Beggars enter large establishments, walk round and solicit alms from each person without hindrance. In my own office I have interviews during the day with numerous unexpected visitors. An apple-woman insists upon selling me some of her fruit, and scarcely has she retired when a vendor of steel pens selects a vacant spot on your table for the display of his goods; a short interval occurs, and my quiet is invaded by a determined match-seller, and so on through the whole day. Some of my visitors who call on business are equally obtrusive and more difficult to get rid of. On one occasion a Yankee walked into my room, and after depositing some tobacco juice on the floor, seated himself at my agent's desk. I happened to be called away for a short time, and during my absence our Yankee friend observed, at one end of the room, ​a washing-stand with blacking brushes underneath. Desirous to occupy himself usefully, he took these articles from their hiding-place, and on my return I found him with one foot on a chair polishing off his boots. When he had completed that operation we proceeded to business."

Among the editors he met, Cassell specially notes Horace Greeley, of the New York Tribune, whose career was not unlike his own. "Popularly known as The Tribune Philosopher, he is one of the most remarkable men in America. Originally a journeyman printer, he has become by dint of great energy and ability one of the guiding spirits of American politics." But on the whole Cassell was not enamoured of American newspaper methods. No conservative and no stickler for convention, he yet caught his breath at "the light, dashing manner" in which the most important subjects were turned off, and complained of the "apparent absence of earnestness and sincerity in what is written."

American politics made hardly more appeal to him than American journalism, except on one side: its highly efficient "publicity" system appealed strongly to his business instinct. When he arrived in the country, having left England in November, 1859, the Lincoln election campaign was in full swing.

"One of the most remarkable scenes which I witnessed," he wrote, "was a torchlight procession of 'Wideawakes,' members of the Republican party, so called, I believe, from the kind of hats which they wear. They numbered 12,000, each man, in the costume and hat of the party, carrying a pole with a blazing lamp at the end of it. They assembled in Madison Square, which, together with the streets at the sides and the Fifth Avenue, became completely filled. So dazzling was the glare of light that the whole sky appeared illumined. Presently they formed a line six abreast and passed along the Broadway, Fifth Avenue, and Eighth Street. As the square gradually became empty the men from the side ​streets poured into it, and followed in the line. Proceeding down Broadway and round the City Park, the procession returned along the parallel thoroughfare, called the Bowery, and the van had reached a point opposite to where we stood before the rear had left us. The effect of such a multitude of lights passing through the crowded streets was very fine."

The English observer, accustomed to election demonstrations on a lesser plan and in a milder tone, described with gusto how the public prints flowed over with panegyrics of their own candidates and violent diatribes against the opposite side, the "stumping" feats of public orators, the war of rival colours in the streets, the illuminated transparencies at the club-houses, the bonfires and the fireworks, and all the paraphernalia of a hot contest. Both parties expended "so much powder, fuss, and firing that the whole country became worked up into a fine pitch of excitement." Abraham Lincoln, however, Cassell observed, held aloof from it all.

Cassell's curiosity extended to every subject of popular interest or public controversy. He resumed his investigations into the slavery question; he touched the fringe of the "Woman's Rights" movement, then quite active in the States, but was not attracted to it; he became enthusiastic both for the American system of State education and for the public spirit of the individual citizens who endowed educational causes so generously. He met Peter Cooper, the founder of the Cooper Institution for "the instruction and improvement of the inhabitants of the United States in practical science and art," and expressed unstinted admiration of such work.

But his largest encomiums were reserved for the public school system; it was an honour to America that "every child is educated at the expense of the State" and that "to the children of America, knowledge is as free as the air they breathe." To all reforming Englishmen of sixty years ago the ideal of free and universal education, not realized in England for another forty years, was very ​dear; to Cassell, with his bitter memories of boyhood, it was a passion. He constantly inveighed against the sloth that delayed public action on this question; he constantly used our lamentable education statistics in his campaign for free paper and in his advocacy of private educational enterprise.

Among the American institutions Cassell did not like was the pirate publisher. At Washington, he endeavoured to put in an argumentative word or two for international copyright. He found that what international copyright wanted at Washington was not argument, but cash. When he pointed out to the politicians the justice and expediency of international copyright, they cut him off short: "If you English publishers will only subscribe a sum of so-and-so to work the lobby," he was told, "the measure could be carried. You know that there are certain houses here which are deeply interested in the reproduction of English books: what are a few thousand dollars to them, expended to defeat any attempt to interfere with a system by which they have become millionaires?"

When at last Cassell turned his face homeward, his mind full of new and sharp impressions and startling contrasts, with an overwhelming sense of the mighty potentialities of the American nation, he felt that one of his first duties was to warn his countrymen against the danger of passing judgment on communities they did not know, and the almost equally pernicious practice of criticizing a country on slight acquaintance.

"Had our observations of American manners and customs," he wrote, "extended no farther than New York, how erroneous would have been our views! … Although we saw much in that country which jarred with our English prejudices, yet upon the whole we left its shores filled with wonder and admiration. The surprisingly rapid progress of the North and North-West, the appearance of well-doing on every hand, and the moral and intellectual advancement of the people, keeping pace ​with their material prosperity, the numerous and costly places of public worship erected and sustained by voluntary effort, the national educational machinery by which the poorest child may obtain an equal education with the richest—these and many other characteristics of American civilization could not be regarded with any other feelings than those of very high gratification."

On his eastward voyage across the Atlantic, Cassell came into accidental touch with the Temperance movement again: he was a fellow-passenger with J. B. Gough, the teetotal orator, so famous in his day. Some of the passengers asked Cassell to persuade Gough to speak in the saloon. Gough had first to be satisfied that he was not thrusting his views forward where they would be unwelcome; then he agreed. "I never," wrote Cassell, "heard him address an assembly with greater power and effect—so much prudence displayed in bringing the subject for the first time before the audience. One gentleman who had been pointed out as very fond of cards and grog was deeply affected. … All were enchanted by the power of Mr. Gough's eloquence. … An impression was made upon numerous minds for the first time that it is to be hoped will prove lasting; several who had been in the habit of taking a nightcap in the shape of a glass of toddy went to their berths without their customary whisky and water."