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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:08 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1420-0.txt b/1420-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5cdfb0 --- /dev/null +++ b/1420-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6872 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1420 *** + +LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + +by Thomas Holmes + +(Secretary of the Howard Association) + +1912 + + + + +PREFACE + +I am hopeful that some of the experiences given in the following +chapters may throw a little light upon some curious but very serious +social problems. Corporate humanity always has had, and always will +have, serious problems to consider. + +The more civilised we become the more complex and serious will be our +problems--unless sensible and merciful yet thorough methods are adopted +for dealing with the evils. I think that my pages will show that the +methods now in use for coping with some of our great evils do not +lessen, but considerably increase the evils they seek to cure. + +With great diffidence I venture to point out what I conceive to be +reasons for failure, and also to offer some suggestions that, if +adopted, will, I believe, greatly minimise, if not remove, certain +evils. + +I make no claim to prophetic wisdom; I know no royal road to social +salvation, nor of any specific to cure all human sorrow and smart. + +But I have had a lengthened and unique experience. I have closely +observed, and I have deeply pondered. I have seen, therefore I ask that +the experiences narrated, the statements made, and the views expressed +in this book may receive earnest consideration, not only from those who +have the temerity to read it, but serious consideration also from our +Statesmen and local authorities, from our Churches and philanthropists, +from our men of business and from men of the world. + +For truly we are all deeply concerned in the various matters which are +dealt with in "London's Underworld." + + THOMAS HOLMES. +12, Bedford Road, + +Tottenham, N. + + +CONTENTS + + CHAP. + + I MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + II LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + III THE NOMADS. + IV LODGING-HOUSES + V FURNISHED APARTMENTS + VI THE DISABLED + VII WOMEN IN THE UNDERWORLD + VIII MARRIAGE IN THE UNDERWORLD + IX BRAINS IN THE UNDERWORLD + X PLAY IN THE UNDERWORLD + XI ON THE VERGE OF THE UNDERWORLD + XII IN PRISONS OFT + XIII UNEMPLOYED AND UNEMPLOYABLE + XIV SUGGESTIONS. + + + + +LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + + + +CHAPTER I. MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + +The odds and ends of humanity, so plentiful in London's great city, +have for many years largely constituted my circle of friends and +acquaintances. + +They are strange people, for each of them is, or was, possessed of some +dominating vice, passion, whim or weakness which made him incapable of +fulfilling the ordinary duties of respectable citizenship. + +They had all descended from the Upper World, to live out strange lives, +or die early deaths in the mysterious but all pervading world below the +line. + +Some of them I saw, as it were, for a moment only; suddenly out of the +darkness they burst upon me; suddenly the darkness again received them +out of my sight. + +But our acquaintance was of sufficient duration to allow me to acquire +some knowledge, and to gain some experience of lives more than strange, +and of characters far removed from the ordinary. + +But with others I spent many hours, months, or years as circumstances +warranted, or as opportunities permitted. Some of them became my +intimates; and though seven long years have passed since I gave up +police-court duties, our friendship bears the test of time, for they +remain my friends and acquaintances still. + +But some have passed away, and others are passing; one by one my list +of friends grows less, and were it not that I, even now, pick up a new +friend or two, I should run the risk of being a lonely old man. Let me +confess, however, that my friends have brought me many worries, have +caused me much disappointment, have often made me very angry. Sometimes, +I must own, they have caused me real sorrow and occasionally feelings +of utter despair. But I have had my compensations, we have had our happy +times, we have even known our merry moments. + +Though pathos has permeated all our intercourse, humour and comedy have +never been far away; though sometimes tragedy has been in waiting. + +But over one and all of my friends hung a great mystery, a mystery that +always puzzled and sometimes paralysed me, a mystery that always set me +to thinking. + +Now many of my friends were decent and good-hearted fellows; yet they +were outcasts. Others were intelligent, clever and even industrious, +quite capable of holding their own with respectable men, still they were +helpless. + +Others were fastidiously honest in some things, yet they were persistent +rogues who could not see the wrong or folly of dishonesty; many of them +were clear-headed in ninety-nine directions, but in the hundredth they +were muddled if not mentally blind. + +Others had known and appreciated the comforts of refined life, yet +they were happy and content amidst the horror and dirt of a common +lodging-house! Why was it that these fellows failed, and were content to +fail in life? + +What is that little undiscovered something that determines their lives +and drives them from respectable society? + +What compensations do they get for all the suffering and privations they +undergo? I don't know! I wish that I did! but these things I have never +been able to discover. + +Many times I have put the questions to myself; many times I have put the +questions to my friends, who appear to know about as much and just as +little upon the matter as myself. + +They do not realise that in reality they do differ from ordinary +citizens; I realise the difference, but can find no reason for it. + +No! it is not drink, although a few of them were dipsomaniacs, for +generally they were sober men. + +I will own my ignorance, and say that I do not know what that little +something is that makes a man into a criminal instead of constituting +him into a hero. This I do know: that but for the possession of a +little something, many of my friends, now homeless save when they are +in prison, would be performing life's duties in settled and comfortable +homes, and would be quite as estimable citizens as ordinary people. + +Probably they would prove better citizens than the majority of people, +for while they possess some inherent weakness, they also possess in a +great degree many estimable qualities which are of little use in their +present life. + +These friends of mine not only visit my office and invade my home, but +they turn up at all sorts of inconvenient times and places.--There is my +friend the dipsomaniac, the pocket Hercules, the man of brain and iron +constitution. + +Year after year he holds on to his own strange course, neither poverty +nor prison, delirium tremens nor physical injuries serve to alter him. +He occupies a front seat at a men's meeting on Sunday afternoon when the +bills announce my name. But he comes half drunk and in a talkative +mood, sometimes in a contradictory mood, but generally good tempered. +He punctuates my speech with a loud and emphatic "Hear! hear!" and often +informs the audience that "what Mr. Holmes says is quite true!" The +attendants cannot keep him silent, he tells them that he is my friend; +he makes some claim to being my patron. + +Poor fellow! I speak to him kindly, but incontinently give him the slip, +for I retire by a back way, leaving him to argue my disappearance in no +friendly spirit with the attendants. Yet I have spent many happy hours +with him when, as sometimes happened, he was "in his right mind." + +I, would like to dwell on the wonders of this man's strange and fearsome +life, but I hasten on to tell of a contrast, for my friends present many +contrasts. + +I was hurrying down crowded Bishopsgate at lunch time, lost in thought, +when I felt my hand grasped and a well-known voice say, "Why! Mr. +Holmes, don't you know me?" + +Know him! I should think I do know him; I am proud to know him, for I +venerate him. He is only a french polisher and by no means handsome, his +face is furrowed and seamed by care and sorrow, his hands and clothing +are stained with varnish. Truly he is not much to look at, but if any +one wants an embodiment of pluck and devotion, of never-failing patience +and magnificent love, in my friend you shall find it! + +Born in the slums, he sold matches at seven years of age; at eight he +was in an industrial school; his father was dead, his mother a drunkard; +home he had none! + +Leaving school at sixteen he became first a gardener's assistant, then +a gentleman's servant; in this occupation he saved some money with +which he apprenticed himself to french polishing. From apprentice +to journeyman, from journeyman to business on his own account, were +successive steps; he married, and that brought him among my many +acquaintances. + +He had a nice home, and two beautiful children, and then that great +destroyer of home life, drink! had to be reckoned with. So he came to +consult me. She was a beautiful and cultured woman and full of remorse. + +The stained hands of the french polisher trembled as he signed +a document by which he agreed to pay L1 per week for his wife's +maintenance in an inebriate home for twelve months where she might have +her babe with her. Bravely he did his part, and at the end of the year +he brought her back to a new and better home, where the neighbours knew +nothing of her past. + +For twelve months there was joy in the home, and then a new life came +into it; but with the babe came a relapse; the varnish-stained man was +again at his wits' end. Once more she entered a home, for another year +he worked and toiled to pay the charges, and again he provided a new +home. And she came back to a house that he had bought for her in a new +neighbourhood; they now lived close to me, and my house was open to +them. The story of the following years cannot be told, for she almost +ruined him. Night after night after putting the children to bed, he +searched the streets and public-houses for her; sometimes I went with +him. She pawned his clothes, the children's clothing, and even the +boy's fiddle. He cleaned the house, he cooked the food, he cared for the +children, he even washed and ironed their clothing on Saturday evening +for the coming Sunday. He marked all the clothing, he warned all the +pawnbrokers. At length he obtained a separation order, but tearing it up +he again took her home with him. She went from bad to worse; even down +to the deepest depths and thence to a rescue home. He fetched her out, +and they disappeared from my neighbourhood. + +So I lost them and often wondered what the end had been. To-day he +was smiling; he had with him a youth of twenty, a scholarship boy, the +violinist. He said, "I am just going to pay for his passage to Canada; +he is going to be the pioneer, and perhaps we shall all join him, she +will do better in a new country!" On further inquiry I found that she +was trying hard, and doing better than when I lost them. + +Thinking she needed greater interest in life, he had bought a small +business for her, but "Mr. Holmes, she broke down!" + +Alas! I knew what "breaking down" meant to the poor fellow, the heroic +fellow I ought to have said. And so for her he will leave his kindred, +home and friends; he will forsake the business that he has so slowly and +laboriously built up, he will sacrifice anything in the hope that the +air of Canada "will do her good." let us hope that it may, for her good +is all he lives for, and her good is his religion. + +Twenty years of heartbreaking misery have not killed his love or +withered his hope. Surely love like his cannot fail of its reward. And +maybe in the new world he will have the happiness that has been denied +him in the old world, and in the evening of his life he may have the +peaceful calm that has hitherto been denied him. For this he is seeking +a place in the new world where the partner of his life and the desire +of his eyes may not find it easy to yield to her besetting temptation, +where the air and his steadfast love will "do her good." + +But all my acquaintances are not heroes, for I am sorry to say that +my old friend Downy has served his term of penal servitude, and is at +liberty once more to beg or steal. He is not ashamed to beg, but I know +that he prefers stealing, for he richly enjoys anything obtained "on the +cross," and cares little for the fruits of honest labour. + +Downy therefore never crosses my doorstep, and when I hold communication +with him he stands on the doorstep where I bar his entrance. + +Yet I like the vagabond, for he is a humorous rascal, and though I know +that I ought to be severe with him, I fail dismally when I try to exhort +him. "Now, look here, old man," he will say, "stop preaching; what are +you going to do to help a fellow; do you think I live this life for fun" +and his eyes twinkle! When I tell him that I am sure of it, he roars. +Yes, I am certain of it, Downy is a thief for the fun of it; he is the +worst and cleverest sneak I have the privilege of knowing; and yet +there is such audacity about him and his actions that even his most +reprehensible deeds do not disgust me. + +He is of the spare and lean kind, but were he fatter he might well pose +as a modern Jack Falstaff, for his one idea is summed up in Falstaff's +words: "Where shall we take a purse to-night?" Downy, of course, +obtained full remission of his sentence; he did all that was required +of him in prison, and so reduced his five years' sentence by fifteen +months. But I feel certain that he did nor spend three years and nine +months in a convict establishment without robbing a good many, and the +more difficult he found the task, the more he would enjoy it. + +I expect his education is now complete, so I have to beware of Downy, +for he would glory in the very thought of "besting" me, so I laugh and +joke with the rascal, but keep him at arm's length. We discuss matters +on the doorstep; if he looks ill I have pity on him, and subsidise him. +Sometimes his merry look changes to a half-pathetic look, and he goes +away to his "doss house," realising that after all his "besting" he +might have done better. + +Some of my friends have crossed the river, but as I think of them they +come back and bid me tell their stories. Here is my old friend the +famous chess-player, whose books are the poetry of chess, but whose life +was more than a tragedy. I need not say where I met him; his face was +bruised and swollen, his jawbone was fractured, he was in trouble, so we +became friends. He was a strange fellow, and though he visited my house +many times, he would neither eat nor drink with us. He wore no overcoat +even in the most bitter weather, he carried no umbrella, neither would +he walk under one, though the rains descended and the floods came! + +He was a fatalist pure and simple, and took whatever came to him in a +thoroughly fatalist spirit. "My dear Holmes," he would say, "why do you +break your heart about me? Let me alone, let us be friends; you are what +you are because you can't help it; you can't be anything else even if +you tried. I am what I am for the same reason. You get your happiness, I +get mine. Do me a good turn when you can, but don't reason with me; let +us enjoy each other's company and take things as they are." + +I took him on his own terms; I saw much of him, and when he was in +difficulties I helped him out. + +For a time I became his keeper, and when he had chess engagements to +fulfil I used to deliver him carriage paid to his destination wherever +it might be. He always and most punctiliously repaid any monetary +obligation I had conferred upon him, for in that respect I found him the +soul of honour, poor though he was! As I think of him I see him dancing +and yelling in the street, surrounded by a crowd of admiring East +Enders, I see him bruised and torn hurried off to the police station, +I see him standing before the magistrate awaiting judgment. What +compensation dipsomania gave him I know not, but that he did get some +kind of wild joy I am quite sure. For I see him feverish from one +debauch, but equally feverish with the expectation of another. + +With his wife it was another story, and I can see her now full of +anxiety and dread, with no relief and no hope, except, dreadful as it +may seem, his death! For then, to use her own expression, "she would +know the worst." Poor fellow! the last time I saw him he was nearing the +end. In an underground room I sat by his bedside, and a poor bed it was! + +As he lay propped up by pillows he was working away at his beloved +chess, writing chess notes, and solving and explaining problems for very +miserable payments. + +I knew the poverty of that underground room; and was made acquainted +with the intense disappointment of both husband and wife when letters +were received that did not contain the much-desired postal orders. And +so passed a genius; but a dipsomaniac! A man of brilliant parts and a +fellow of infinite jest, who never did justice to his great powers, but +who crowded a continuous succession of tragedies into a short life. I am +glad to think that I did my best for him, even though I failed. He has +gone! but he still has a place in my affections and occupies a niche in +the hall of my memory. + +I very much doubt whether I am able to forget any one of the pieces of +broken humanity that have companied with me. I do not want to forget +them, for truth to tell they have been more interesting to me than +merely respectable people, and infinitely more interesting than some +good people. + +But I am afraid that my tastes are bad, and my ideals low, for I am +always happier among the very poor or the outcasts than I am with the +decent and well behaved. + +A fellow named Reid has been calling on me repeatedly; an Australian +by birth, he outraged the law so often that he got a succession of +sentences, some of them being lengthy. He tried South Africa with a like +result; South Africa soon had enough of him, and after two sentences he +was deported to England, where he looked me up. + +He carries with him in a nice little case a certified and attested copy +of all his convictions, more than twenty in number. He produces +this without the least shame, almost with pride, and with the utmost +confidence that it would prove a ready passport to my affection. + +I talk to him; he tells me of his life, of Australia and South Africa; +he almost hypnotises me, for he knows so much. We get on well together +till he produces the "attested copy," and then the spell is broken, and +the humour of it is too much for me, so I laugh. + +He declares that he wants work, honest work, and he considers that his +"certificate" vouches for his bona fides. This is undoubtedly true, but +nevertheless I expect that it will be chiefly responsible for his free +passage back to Australia after he has sampled the quality of English +prisons. + +My friends and acquaintances meet me or rather I meet them, in +undesirable places; I never visit a prison without coming across one or +more of them, and they embarrass me greatly. + +A few Sundays ago I was addressing a large congregation of men in a +London prison. As I stood before them I was dismayed to see right in +the front rank an old and persistent acquaintance whom I thoroughly and +absolutely disliked, and he knew it, for on more than one occasion I +had good reason for expressing a decided opinion about him. A smile of +gleeful but somewhat mischievous satisfaction spread over his face; he +folded his arms across his breast, he looked up at me and quite held me +with his glittering eye. + +I realised his presence, I felt that his eye was upon me, I saw that he +followed every word. He quite unnerved me till I stumbled and tripped. +Then he smiled in his evil way. + +I could not get rid of his eyes, and sometimes I half appealed to him +with a pitiful look to take them off me. But it was no use, he still +gazed at me and through me. So thinking of him and looking at him I grew +more and more confused. + +The clock fingers would not move fast enough for me. I had elected to +speak on sympathy, brotherhood and mutual help. And this fellow to whom +I had refused help again and again knew my feelings, and made the most +of his opportunity. + +But my friend will come and see me when he is once more out of prison. +He will want to discuss my address of that particular Sunday afternoon. +He will quote my words, he will remind me about sympathy and mutual +help, he will hope to leave me rejoicing in the possession of a few +shillings. + +But that will be the hour of my triumph; for then I will rejoice in the +contemplation of his disappointment as my door closes upon him. But if I +understand him aright his personal failure will not lead him to despair, +for he will appear again and again and sometimes by deputy, and he will +put others as cunning as himself on my track. + +Some time ago I was tormented with a succession of visitors of this +description; my door was hardly free of one when another appeared. They +all told the same tale: "they had been advised to come to me, for I was +kind to men who had been in prison." + +They got no practical kindness from me, but rather some wholesome +advice. I found afterwards from a lodging-house habitue that this man +had been taking his revenge by distributing written copies of my name +and address to all the lodging-house inmates, and advising them to call +on me. And I have not the slightest doubt that the rascal watched +them come to my door, enjoyed their disappointment, and gloried in my +irritation. + +Yes, I have made the acquaintance of many undesirable fellows, and our +introduction to each other has sometimes been brought about in a very +strange manner. Sometimes they have forced themselves upon me and +insisted upon my seeing much of them, and "knowing all about them" they +would tell me of their struggles and endeavours to "go straight" and +would put their difficulties and hopes before me. Specious clever +rascals many of them were, far too clever for me, as I sometimes found +out to my cost. One young fellow who has served a well-earned and richly +merited sentence of five years' penal servitude, quite overpowered me +with his good intentions and professions of rectitude. "No more prison +for me," he would say; he brought his wife and children to see me, +feeling sure that they would form a passport to my sympathy and pocket. + +He was not far wrong, for I substantially and regularly helped the wife. +I had strong misgivings about the fellow, consequently what help I gave +I took care went direct to his wife. + +Sometimes he would call at my office, and with tears would thank me +for the help given to his wife and children. I noticed a continual +improvement in his clothing and appearance till he became quite a +swell. I felt a bit uneasy, for I knew that he was not at work. I soon +discovered, or rather the police discovered that he had stolen a lot of +my office note-paper of which he had made free use, and when arrested on +another charge several blank cheques which had been abstracted from my +cheque book were found upon him. He had made himself so well known to +and familiar with the caretaker of the chambers, that one night when +he appeared with a bag of tools to put "Mr. Holmes' desk right," no +questions were asked, and he coolly and quite deliberately, with the +office door open, operated in his own sweet way. Fortunately, when +trying the dodge in another set of chambers, he was arrested in the act, +and my blank cheques among many others were found upon him. + +Another term of penal servitude has stopped his career and put an end +to, I will not say a friendship but an acquaintance, that I am not at +any rate anxious to renew. + +They come a long way to see me do some of my friends, and put themselves +to some trouble in the matter, and not a little expense if they are to +be believed. Why they do so I cannot imagine, for sometimes after a long +and close questioning I fail to find any satisfactory reason for their +doing so. I have listened to many strange stories, and have received not +a few startling confessions! Some of my friends have gone comforted +away when they had made a clean breast and circumstantially given me +the details of some great crime or evil that they had committed. I never +experienced any difficulty, or felt the least compunction in granting +them plenary absolution; I never betrayed them to the police, for I knew +that of the crime confessed they were as guiltless as myself. Of course +there is a good deal of pathos about their actions, but I always felt a +glow of pleasure when I could send poor deluded people away comforted; +and I am sure that they really believed me when I told them that under +no circumstances would I betray their confidence, or acquaint the police +without first consulting them. I never had any difficulty in keeping my +promise, though sometimes my friends would, after a long absence, remind +me of it. + +But occasionally one of my friends has compelled me to seek the advice +of an astute detective, for very clever rogues, real and dangerous +criminals, have been my companions and have boasted of my friendship, +whilst pursuing a deplorably criminal course. But I never had the +slightest compunction with regard to them when I knew beyond doubt what +they were at. Friends and associates of criminals have more than once +waited on me for the purpose of enlisting my sympathy and help for one +of their colleagues who was about to be released from prison, and the +vagabonds have actually informed detectives that "Mr. Holmes was going +to take him in hand." What they really meant was, that they had taken +Mr. Holmes in hand for the purpose of lulling the just suspicions of the +police. One day not long ago a woman, expensively dressed and possessed +of a whole mass of flaxen hair, burst into my office. She was very +excited, spoke good English with an altogether exaggerated French +accent, and her action was altogether grotesque and stereotyped. She +informed me that she had that morning come from Paris to consult me. +When I inquired what she knew about me and how she got my address, she +said that a well-known journalist and a member of Parliament whom she +had met in Paris had advised her to consult with me about the future of +a man shortly to be discharged from prison. As during the whole of my +life I had not met or corresponded with the brilliant gentleman she +referred to, I felt doubtful, but kept silent. So on she went with her +story, first, however, offering me a sum of money for the benefit of as +consummate a villain as ever inhabited a prison cell. + +I declined the money and refused to have anything to do with the matter +till I had had further information. Briefly her story was as follows: +The man in whom she and others were interested was serving a term of +three years for burglary. He was an educated man, married, and father +of two children. His wife loved him dearly, and his two children were +"pretty, oh, so pretty!" They were afraid that his wife would receive +him back again with open arms, and that other children might result. +They were anxious that this should be prevented, for they felt, she +was sorry to say, that he might again revert to crime, that other +imprisonments might ensue, and that "the poor, poor little thing," +meaning the wife, might be exposed to more and worse suffering than she +had already undergone. + +Would I receive a sum of money on his account and arrange for him to +leave England? They felt that to be the wisest course, for "he is so +clever, and can soon build up a home for her when he is away from his +companions." Of his ability I had subsequently plenty of proof, and I +have no reason to doubt her statement that he could soon "build up a +home." He could very quickly--and a luxurious home, too! + +The wife was not to be considered at all in the matter, but money would +be sent to me from time to time to help the "poor little thing and her +children!" I was interested, but I said to myself, "This is much too +good," and the ready journey from Paris rather staggered me. I put a few +simple questions, she pledged me to secrecy. I told her that I would ask +the prison authorities to send him to me on his discharge. + +"I so please, I now go back to Paris; I come again and I bring you +money," she said, as she shook her furs and took herself and her flaxen +hair to somewhere else than Paris, so I felt persuaded. + +Two days before the prisoner's discharge she burst in again, huffy head, +furs and gesticulation as before. "I come from Paris this morning, I +bring you money." I was not present, but I had previously warned my +assistant not to receive any money. The gay Parisian was informed that +no money could be received, but she promptly put two sovereigns on the +desk and disappeared---but not to Paris! + +He stood before me at last, a little fellow, smart looking, erect, +self-satisfied and self-reliant. I told him of the two sovereigns and +the fluffy hair, of the good intentions of his Parisian friend. I spoke +hopefully of a new life in a new country and of the future of his wife +and children; he never blanched. He was quite sure he knew no French +lady with fluffy hair; he had no friends, no accomplices; he wanted +work, honest work; he intended to make amends for the past; he "would +build up a home" for his wife and children. + +I saw much of him; we lunched together and we smoked together, and he +talked a good deal. His wife fell ill owing to very hard work, and I +befriended her. He accepted the two pounds and asked for more! He was +a citizen of the world, and spoke more than one language. Our +companionship continued for some months, and then my friend and myself +had to sever our connection. + +He was one of a gang of very clever thieves, who operated on a large +scale, and who for cool audacity and originality were, I think, almost +unequalled! + +They engaged expensive suites of rooms or flats, furnished them most +expensively on credit or the hire system, insured the goods against +burglary, promptly burgled themselves, sold the goods, realised the +insurance, and then vanished to repeat their proceedings elsewhere. + +So clever were they at the business that costly but portable goods were +freely submitted to their tender mercies. They invariably engaged rooms +that possessed a "skylight." It was my friend's business to do the +burgling, and this he did by carefully removing the glass from the +skylight, being careful not to break it; needless to say, he removed +the glass from the inside and carefully deposited it on the roof, the +valuables making their exit through the room door and down the staircase +in broad daylight. + +My friend, who spoke Dutch fluently and accurately, has, I understood, +sold to English merchants whose probity was beyond dispute the proceeds +of some of his "firm's" operations. This game went on for a time, the +Parisian lady with the false hair being one of the confederates. He +disappeared, however, and I am glad to think that for some considerable +time society will be safeguarded from the woman with the flaxen hair, +and the operations of a clever scoundrel. + +I am glad to say that the number of my friends and acquaintances who +have seriously tried to "best" me form but a small proportion of +the whole. Generally they have, I believe, been animated with good +intentions, though the failure to carry them out has frequently been +manifest and deplorable. + +I am persuaded that weakness is more disastrous to the world than +absolute wickedness, for nothing in the whole of my life's experience +has taken more out of me, and given me so much heartbreaking +disappointment as my continued efforts on behalf of really +well-intentioned individuals, who could not stand alone owing to their +lack of grit and moral backbone. For redemptive purposes I would rather, +a hundred times rather, have to deal with a big sinner than with a human +jellyfish, a flabby man who does no great wrong, but on the other hand +does not the slightest good. + +But, as I have already said, though all my friends and acquaintances +were dwellers in a dark land, not all of them were "known to the +police"; indeed, many of them ought to be classified as "known to +the angels," for their real goodness has again and again rebuked and +inspired me. + +Oh the patience, fortitude and real heroism I have met with in my +acquaintances among the poor. Strength in time of trial, virtue amidst +obscenity, suffering long drawn out and perpetual self-denial are +characteristics that abound in many of my poorest friends, and in some +of the chapters that are to follow I shall tell more fully of them, but +just now I am amongst neither sinners nor saints, but with my friends +"in motley." I mean the men and women who have occupied so much of my +time and endeavours, but whose position I knew was hopeless. + +How they interested me, those demented friends of mine! they were a +perpetual wonder to me, and I am glad to remember that I never passed +hard judgment upon them, or gave them hard words. And I owe much to +them, a hundred times more than the whole of them are indebted to me; +for I found that I could not take an interest in any one of them, nor +make any fruitless, any perhaps foolish effort to truly help them, +without doing myself more good than I could possibly have done to them. +Fifteen years I stood by, and stood up for demented Jane Cakebread, and +we became inseparably connected. She abused me right royally, and her +power of invective was superb. When she was not in prison she haunted my +house and annoyed my neighbours. She patronised me most graciously when +she accepted a change of clothing from me; she lived in comparative +luxury when I provided lodgings for her; she slept out of doors when I +did not. + +She bestowed her affections on me and made me heir to her non-existent +fortune; she proposed marriage to me, although she frequently met and +admired my good wife. All this and more, year after year! + +Poor old Jane! I owe much to her, and I am quite willing, nay, anxious, +to say that in a great measure Jane Cakebread was the making of Thomas +Holmes. + +Years have passed since we laid Jane gently to rest, but she comes back +to me and dominates me whenever I mentally call my old friends together. +Her voice is the loudest, her speech the most voluble, and her manner +the most assertive of all my motley friends. They are all gathering +around me as I write. My friend who teaches music by colour is here, +my friend with his secret invention that will dispense with steam and +electricity is here too; "Little Ebbs" the would-be policeman is here +too; the prima donna whose life was more than a tragedy, the architect +with his wonderful but never accepted designs, the broken artist with +his pictures, the educated but non-sober lady who could convert plaster +models into marble statuary are all with me. The unspeakably degraded +parson smoking cigarettes, his absence of shirt hidden by a rusty +cassock, lolls in my easy-chair; my burglar friend who had "done" forty +years and was still asking for more, they are all around me! And my +dipsomaniac friends have come too! I hear them talking and arguing, when +a strident voice calls out, "No arguing! no arguing! argument spoils +everything!" and Jane stops the talk of others by occupying the platform +herself and recites a chapter from the book of Job. I am living it all +over again! + +And now troop in my suffering friends. Here is the paralysed woman of +thirty-five who has for twenty years lain in bed the whiles her sister +has worked incessantly to maintain her! Here is my widow friend who +after working fifteen hours daily for years was dragged from the Lea. As +she sits and listens her hands are making matchboxes and throwing them +over her shoulder, one, two, three, four! right, left! they go to the +imaginary heaps upon the imaginary beds. While blighted children are +crawling upon the floor looking up at me with big eyes. Here is my +patient old friend who makes "white flowers" although she is eighty +years of age, and still keeps at it, though, thank God, she gets the +old-age pension. + +Now come in the young men and maidens, the blighted blossoms of humanity +who wither and die before the time of fruition, for that fell disease +consumption has laid its deadly hand upon them. + +Oh! the mystery of it all, the sorrow and madness of it all! I open my +door and they file out. Some back to the unseen world, some back to the +lower depths of this world! Surely they are a motley lot, are my friends +and acquaintances; they are as varied as humanity itself. So they +represent to me all the moods and tenses of humanity, all its personal, +social and industrial problems. I have a pitiful heart; I try to keep a +philosophic mind; I am cheery with them; I am doubtful, I am hopeful! + +I never give help feeling sure that I have done wisely, I never refuse +the worst and feel sure that I have done well. I live near the heart of +humanity, I count its heart-beats, I hear its throbs. + +I realise some of the difficulties that beset us, I see some of the +heights and depths to which humanity can ascend or descend. I have +learned that the greatest factors in life are kindly sympathy, brotherly +love, a willingness to believe the best of the worst, and to have an +infinite faith in the ultimate triumph of good! + + + +CHAPTER II. LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + +London's great underworld to many may be an undiscovered country. To +me it is almost as familiar as my own fireside; twenty-five years of +my life have been spent amongst its inhabitants, and their lives and +circumstances have been my deep concern. + +Sad and weary many of those years have been, but always full of +absorbing interest. Yet I have found much that gave me pleasure, and it +is no exaggeration when I say that some of my happiest hours have been +spent among the poorest inhabitants of the great underworld. + +But whether happy or sorrowful, I was always interested, for the +strange contrasts and the ever-varying characteristics and lives of the +inhabitants always compelled attention, interest and thought. There is +much in this underworld to terrorise, but there is also much to inspire. + +Horrible speech and strange tongues are heard in it, accents of sorrow +and bursts of angry sound prevail in it. + +Drunkenness, debauchery, crime and ignorance are never absent; and in it +men and women grown old in sin and crime spend their last evil days. +The whining voice of the professional mendicant is ever heard in its +streets, for its poverty-stricken inhabitants readily respond to every +appeal for help. + +So it is full of contrasts; for everlasting toil goes on, and the hum +of industry ever resounds. Magnificent self-reliance is continually +exhibited, and self-denial of no mean order is the rule. + +The prattle of little children and the voice of maternal love make +sweet music in its doleful streets, and glorious devotion dignifies and +illumines the poorest homes. + +But out of the purlieus of this netherworld strange beings issue when +the shades of evening fall. + +Men whose hands are against every man come forth to deeds of crime, like +beasts to seek their prey! Women, fearsome creatures, whose steps lead +down to hell, to seek their male companions. + +Let us stand and watch! + +Here comes a poor, smitten, wretched old man; see how he hugs the rags +of his respectability; his old frayed frock-coat is buttoned tightly +around him, and his outstretched hands tell that he is eager for the +least boon that pity can bestow. He has found that the way of the +transgressor is hard; he has kissed the bloom of pleasure's painted +lips, he has found them pale as death! + +But others follow, and hurry by. And a motley lot they are; figure and +speech, complexion and dress all combine to create dismay; but they have +all one common characteristic. They want money! and are not particular +about the means of getting it. Now issue forth an innumerable band +who during the day have been sleeping off the effects of last night's +debauch. With eager steps, droughty throats and keen desire they seek +the wine cup yet again. + +Now come fellows, young and middle-aged, who dare not be seen by day, +for whom the police hold "warrants," for they have absconded from wives +and children, leaving them chargeable to the parish. + +Here are men who have robbed their employers, here young people of both +sexes who have drained Circe's cup and broken their parents' hearts. + +Surely it is a strange and heterogeneous procession that issues evening +by evening from the caves and dens of London's underworld. But notice +there is also a returning procession! For as the sun sinks to rest, +sad-faced men seek some cover where they may lie down and rest their +weary bones; where perchance they may sleep and regain some degree of +passive courage that will enable them, at the first streak of morning +light, to rise and begin again a disheartening round of tramp, tramp, +searching for work that is everlastingly denied them. Hungry and +footsore, their souls fainting within them, they seek the homes +where wives and children await their return with patient but hopeless +resignation. + +Take notice if you will of the places they enter, for surely the +beautiful word "home" is desecrated if applied to most of their +habitations. Horrid places within and without, back to back and face to +face they stand. + +At their doorway death stands ready to strike. In the murky light +of little rooms filled with thick air child-life has struggled into +existence; up and down their narrow stairs patient endurance and passive +hopelessness ever pass and repass. + +Small wonder that the filthy waters of a neighbouring canal woo and +receive so many broken hearts and emaciated bodies. + +But the procession now changes its sex, for weary widowed women are +returning to children who for many hours have been lacking a mother's +care, for mothers in the underworld must work if children must eat. + +So the weary widows have been at the wash-tubs all day long, and are +coming home with two shillings hardly earned. They call in at the dirty +general shop, where margarine, cheese, bread, tinned meat and firewood +are closely commingled in the dank air. + +A loaf, a pennyworth of margarine, a pennyworth of tea, a bundle of +firewood, half a pound of sugar, a pint of lamp-oil exhaust their list +of purchases, for the major part of their earnings is required for the +rent. + +So they climb their stairs, they feed the children, put them unwashed to +bed, do some necessary household work, and then settle down themselves +in some shape, without change of attire, that they may rest and be ready +for the duties of the ensuing day. Perhaps sweet oblivion will come even +to them. "Blessings on the man who invented sleep," cried Sancho Panza, +and there is a world of truth in his ecstatic exclamation, "it wraps him +round like a garment." + +Aye, that it does, for what would the poor weary women and men of +London's underworld do without it? What would the sick and suffering be +without it? In tiny rooms where darkness is made visible by penny-worths +of oil burned in cheap and nasty lamps, there is no lack of pain and +suffering, and no lack of patient endurance and passive heroism. + +As night closes in and semi-darkness reigns around, when the streets are +comparatively silent, when children's voices are no longer heard, come +with me and explore! + +It is one o'clock a.m., and we go down six steps into what is +facetiously termed a "breakfast parlour"; here we find a man and woman +about sixty years of age. The woman is seated at a small table on which +stands a small, evil-smelling lamp, and the man is seated at another +small table, but gets no assistance from the lamp; he works in +comparative gloom, for he is almost blind; he works by touch. + +For fifty years they have been makers of artificial flowers; both are +clever artists, and the shops of the West End have fairly blazed with +the glory of their roses. Winsome lassie's and serene ladies have made +themselves gay with their flowers. + +There they sit, as they have sat together for thirty years. Neither can +read or write, but what can be done in flowers they can do. Long hours +and dark rooms have made the man almost blind. + +He suffers also from heart disease and dropsy. He cannot do much, but he +can sit, and sit, while his wife works and works, for in the underworld +married women must work if dying husbands are to be cared for. + +So for fifteen hours daily and nightly they sit at their roses! Then +they lie down on the bed we see in the corner, but sleep does not come, +for asthma troubles him, and he must be attended and nursed. + +Shall we pay another visit to that underworld room? Come, then. Two +months have passed away, the evil-smelling lamp is still burning, the +woman still sits at the table, but no rose-leaves are before her; she +is making black tulips. On the bed lies a still form with limbs decently +smoothed and composed; the poor blind eyes are closed for ever. He is +awaiting the day of burial, and day after day the partner of his life +and death is sitting, and working, for in this underworld bereaved wives +must work if husbands are to be decently buried. The black tulips she +will wear as mourning for him; she will accompany his poor body to the +cemetery, and then return to live alone and to finish her work alone. + +But let us continue our midnight explorations, heedless of the men and +women now returning from their nightly prowl who jostle us as they pass. + +We enter another room where the air is thick and makes us sick and +faint. We stand at the entrance and look around; we see again the +evil-smelling lamp, and again a woman at work at a small table, and she +too is a widow! + +She is making cardboard boxes, and pretty things they are. Two beds are +in the room, and one contains three, and the other two children. On the +beds lie scores of dainty boxes. The outside parts lie on one bed, and +the insides on the other. They are drying while the children sleep; by +and by they will be put together, tied in dozens, and next morning taken +to the factory. But of their future history we dare not inquire. + +The widow speaks to us, but her hands never rest; we notice the celerity +of her movements, the dreadful automatic certainty of her touch is +almost maddening; we wait and watch, but all in vain, for some false +movement that shall tell us she is a human and not a machine. But no, +over her shoulder to the bed on the left side, or over her shoulder to +the bed on her right side, the boxes fly, and minute by minute and hour +by hour the boxes will continue to grow till her task is completed. Then +she will put them together, tie them in dozens, and lay herself down on +that bed that contains the two children. + +Need we continue? I think not, but it may give wings to imagination when +I say that in London's underworld there are at least 50,000 women whose +earnings do not exceed three halfpence per hour, and who live under +conditions similar to those described. Working, working, day and night, +when they have work to do, practically starving when work is scarce. + +The people of the underworld are not squeamish, they talk freely, and as +a matter of course about life and death. Their children are at an early +age made acquainted with both mysteries; a dead child and one newly born +sometimes occupy a room with other children. + +People tell me of the idleness of the underworld and there is plenty of +it; but what astonishes me is the wonderful, the persistent, but almost +unrewarded toil that is unceasingly going on, in which even infants +share. + +Come again with me in the day-time, climb with me six dark and greasy +flights of stairs, for the underworld folk are sometimes located near +the sky. + +In this Bastille the passages are very narrow, and our shoulders +sometimes rub the slimy moisture from the walls. On every landing in the +semi-darkness we perceive galleries running to right and to left. On the +little balconies, one on every floor, children born in this Bastille are +gasping for air through iron bars. + +There are three hundred suites of box rooms in this Bastille, which +means that three hundred families live like ants in it. Let us enter No. +250. Time: 3.30 p.m. Here lives a blind matchbox-maker and his wife with +their seven children. The father has gone to take seven gross of boxes +to the factory, for the mother cannot easily climb up and down the stone +stairs of the Bastille. So she sits everlastingly at the boxes, the beds +are covered with them, the floor is covered with them, and the air is +thick with unpleasant moisture. + +One, two, three, four, there they go over her shoulder to the bed or +floor; on the other side of the table sits a child of four, who, with +all the apathy of an adult if not with equal celerity, gums or pastes +the labels for his mother. The work must be "got in," and the child has +been kept at home to take his share in the family toil. + +In this Bastille the children of the underworld live and die, for death +reaps here his richest harvest. Never mind! the funeral of one child +is only a pageant for others. Here women work and starve, and here +childhood, glorious childhood, is withered and stricken; but here, too, +the wicked, the vile, the outcast and the thief find sanctuary. + +The strange mixture of it all bewilders me, fascinates me, horrifies +me, and yet sometimes it encourages me and almost inspires me. For I see +that suffering humanity possesses in no mean degree those three great +qualities, patience, fortitude and endurance. + +For perchance these three qualities will feel and grope for a brighter +life and bring about a better day. + +Though in all conscience funerals are numerous enough in this bit of +the underworld, and though the conditions are bad enough to destroy +its inhabitants, yet the people live on and on, for even death itself +sometimes seems reluctant to befriend them. + +Surely there is nothing in the underworld so extraordinary as the +defiance flung in the face of death by its poor, feeble, ill-nourished, +suffering humanity. + +According to every well-known rule they ought to die, and not to +linger upon the order of their dying. But linger they do, and in their +lingering exhibit qualities which ought to regenerate the whole race. It +is wonderful upon what a small amount of nourishment humanity can exist, +and still more wonderful under what conditions it can survive. + +Shall we look in at a house that I know only too well? Come again, then! + +Here sits an aged widow of sixty-four at work on infants' shoes, a +daughter about twenty-six is at work on infants' socks. Another daughter +two years older is lying on her back in an invalid's chair, and her deft +fingers are busily working, for although paralysis has taken legs, the +upper part of her body has been spared. The three live together and pool +their earnings; they occupy two very small rooms, for which they pay +five shillings weekly. + +After paying twopence each to avoid parish funerals, they have five +shillings left weekly for food, firing, clothing and charity. Question +them, and you will learn how they expend those five shillings. "How much +butter do you allow yourselves during the week?" The widow answers: "Two +ounces of shilling butter once a week." "Yes, mother," says the invalid, +"on a Saturday." She knew the day of the week and the hour too, when her +eyes brightened at the sight of three-halfpenny worth of butter. +Truly they fared sumptuously on the Sabbath, for they tasted "shilling +butter." + +But they refuse to die, and I have not yet discovered the point at +which life ebbs out for lack of food, for when underworld folk die +of starvation we are comforted by the assurance that they died "from +natural causes." + +I suppose that if the four children all over eight years of age, +belonging to a widow machinist well known to me, had died, their death +would have been attributed to "natural causes." She had dined them upon +one pennyworth of stewed tapioca without either sugar or milk. Sometimes +the children had returned to school without even that insult to their +craving stomachs. But "natural causes" is the euphonious name given +by intelligent juries to starvation, when inquests are held in the +underworld. Herein is a mystery: in the land of plenty, whose granaries, +depots, warehouses are full to repletion, and whose countless ships are +traversing every ocean, bringing the food and fruits of the earth to its +shores, starvation is held to be a natural cause of death. + +Here let me say, and at once, that the two widows referred to are +but specimens of a very large company, and that from among my own +acquaintances I can with a very short notice assemble one thousand women +whose lives are as pitiful, whose food is as limited, whose burdens are +as heavy, but whose hearts are as brave as those I have mentioned. + +The more I know of these women and their circumstances, the more and +still more I am amazed. How they manage to live at all is a puzzle, but +they do live, and hang on to life like grim death itself. I believe I +should long for death were I placed under similar conditions to those my +underworld friends sustain without much complaining. + +They have, of course, some interests in life, especially when the +children are young, but for themselves they are largely content to be, +to do, and to suffer. + +Very simple and very limited are their ambitions; they are expressed in +the wish that their children may rise somehow or other from the world +below to the world above, where food is more plentiful and labour more +remunerative. But my admiration and love for the honest workers below +the line are leading me to forget the inhabitants that are far removed +from honesty, and to whom industry is a meaningless word. + +There are many of them, and a mixed lot they are. The deformed, the +crippled and the half-witted abound. Rogues and rascals, brutes in human +form, and human forms that are harking back to the brute abound also. +With some we may sound the lowest depths, with others we may ascend +to glorious heights. This is the wonder of underworld. Some of its +inhabitants have come down, and are going lower still. Others are +struggling with slippery feet to ascend the inclined plane that leads to +the world above. Some in their misery are feebly hoping for a hand that +will restore them to the world they have for ever lost! + +And there are others who find their joy in this netherworld! For here +every restraint may be abandoned and every decency may be outraged. Here +are men and women whose presence casts a blight upon everything fresh +and virtuous that comes near them. + +Here the children grow old before their time, for like little cubs they +lie huddled upon each other when the time for sleep comes. Not for them +the pretty cot, the sweet pillow and clean sheets! but the small close +room, the bed or nest on the floor, the dirty walls and the thick +air. Born into it, breathing it as soon as their little lungs begin to +operate, thick, dirty air dominates their existence or terminates their +lives. + +"Glorious childhood" has no place here, to sweet girlhood it is fatal, +and brave boyhood stands but little chance. + +Though here and there one and another rise superior to environment +and conditions, the great mass are robbed of the full stature of their +bodies, of their health, their brain power and their moral life. + +But their loss is not the nation's gain, for the nation loses too! For +the nation erects huge buildings falsely called workhouses, tremendous +institutions called prisons. Asylums in ever-increasing numbers are +required to restrain their feeble bodies, and still feebler minds! + +Let us look at the contrasts! Their houses are so miserably supplied +with household goods that even a rash and optimistic man would hesitate +before offering a sovereign for an entire home, yet pawnshops flourish +exceedingly, although the people possess nothing worth pawning. Children +are half fed, for the earnings of parents are too meagre to allow a +sufficient quantity of nourishing food; but public-houses do a roaring +trade on the ready-money principle, while the chandler supplies scraps +of food and half-ounces of tea on very long credit. + +Money, too, is scarce, very scarce, yet harpies grow rich by lending +the inhabitants small sums from a shilling up to a pound at a rate of +interest that would stagger and paralyse the commercial world. Doctors +must needs to content with a miserable remuneration for their skilled +and devoted services, when paid at all! but burial societies accumulate +millions from a weekly collection of ill-spared coppers. Strangest of +all, undertakers thrive exceedingly, but the butcher and baker find it +hard work to live. + +Yes, the underworld of London is full of strange anomalies and queer +contradictions. When I survey it I become a victim to strange and +conflicting emotions. + +Sometimes I am disgusted with the dirt and helplessness of the people. +Sometimes I burn with indignation at their wrongs. But when I enter +their houses I feel that I would like to be an incendiary on a wholesale +scale. Look again! I found the boot-machinist widow that I have +mentioned, in Bethnal Green; she was ill in bed, lying in a small room; +ill though she was, and miniature as the room was, two girls aged twelve +and fourteen slept with her and shared her bed, while a youth and a boy +slept in a coal-hole beneath the stairs. Nourishment and rest somewhat +restored the woman, and to give her and the children a chance I took for +them a larger house. I sent them bedding and furniture, the house being +repaired and repainted, for the previous tenant had allowed it to take +fire, but the fire had not been successful enough! I called on the +family at midday, and as I stood in the room, bugs dropped from the +ceiling upon me. The widow's work was covered with them; night and day +the pests worried the family, there was no escaping them; I had to +fly, and again remove the family. How can the poor be clean and +self-respecting under such conditions! + +For be it known this is the normal condition of thousands of human +habitations in London's great underworld. How can cleanliness and +self-respect survive? Yet sometimes they do survive, but at a terrible +cost, for more and still more of the weekly income must go in rent, +which means less and still less for food and clothing. Sometimes the +grossness and impurity, the ignorance and downright wickedness of the +underworld appal and frighten me. + +But over this I must draw a veil, for I dare not give particulars; I +think, and think, and ask myself again and again what is to be the end +of it all! Are we to have two distinct races! those below and those +above? Is Wells' prophecy to come true; will the one race become +uncanny, loathsome abortions with clammy touch and eyes that cannot face +the light? Will the other become pretty human butterflies? I hope not, +nay, I am sure that Wells is wrong! For there is too much real goodness +in the upper world and too much heroism and endurance in the underworld +to permit such an evolution to come about. + +But it is high time that such a possibility was seriously considered. +It is high time, too, that the lives and necessities, the wrongs and the +rights of even the gross poor in the underworld were considered. + +For the whole social and industrial system is against them. Though many +of them are parasites, preying upon society or upon each other, yet +even they become themselves the prey of other parasites, who drain their +blood night and day. + +So I ask in all seriousness, is it not high time that the exploitation +of the poor, because they are poor, should cease. See how it operates: +a decent married woman loses her husband; his death leaves her dependent +upon her own labour. She has children who hitherto have been provided +with home life, food and clothing; in fact the family had lived a little +above the poverty line, though not far removed from it. + +She had lived in the upper world, but because her husband dies, she +is precipitated into the lower world, to seek a new home and some +occupation whereby she and her children may live. + +Because she is a widow, and poor and helpless, she becomes the prey +of the sweater. Henceforth she must work interminable hours for a +starvation wage. Because she is a mother, poor and helpless, she becomes +the prey of the house farmer. Henceforward half her earnings must go in +rent, though her house and its concomitants are detestable beyond words. + +But though she is poor, her children must be fed, and though she is a +widowed mother, she, even she, must eat sometimes. Henceforward she must +buy food of a poor quality, in minute quantities, of doubtful weight, at +the highest price. She is afraid that death may enter her home and find +her unprepared for a funeral, so she pays one penny weekly for each of +her children and twopence for herself to some collection society. + +All through this procedure her very extremities provide opportunities +to others for spoliation, and so her continued life in the underworld is +assured. But her children are ill-nourished, ill-clothed, ill-lodged +and ill-bathed, and the gutter is their playground. They do not +develop properly in mind or body, when of age they are very poor assets +considered financially or industrially. They become permanent residents +of the underworld and produce after their kind. + +So the underworld is kept populated from many sources. Widows with their +children are promptly kicked into it, others descend into it by a +slow process of social and industrial gravitation. Some descend by +the downward path of moral delinquency, and some leap into it as if to +commit moral and social death. + +And surely 'tis a mad world! How can it be otherwise with all this +varied and perplexed humanity seething it, with all these social and +industrial wrongs operating upon it. But I see the dawn of a brighter +day! when helpless widow mothers will no longer be the spoil of the +sweater and the house "farmer." The dawn has broke! before these words +are printed thousands of toiling women in London's underworld will +rejoice! for the wages of cardboard box-makers will be doubled. The sun +is rising! for one by one all the terrible industries in which the +women of the underworld are engaged will of a certainty come within the +operations of a law that will stay the hand of the oppressors. And there +will be less toil for the widows and more food for the children in the +days that are to be. + +But before that day fully comes, let me implore the women of the upper +world to be just if not generous to the women below. Let me ask them +not to exact all their labours, nor to allow the extremities of +their sisters to be a reason for under-payment when useful service is +rendered. Again I say, and I say it with respect and sorrow, that many +women are thoughtless if not unjust in their business dealings with +other women. + +I am more concerned for the industrial and social rights of women than I +am for their political rights; votes they may have if you please. But +by all that is merciful let us give them justice! For the oppression of +women, whether by women or men, means a perpetuation of the underworld +with all its sorrows and horrors; and the under-payment of women has a +curse that smites us all the way round. + +And if a word of mine can reach the toiling sisters in the netherworld, +I would say to them: Be hopeful! Patient I know you to be! enduring you +certainly are! brave beyond expression I have found you. Now add to your +virtues, hope! + +For you have need of it, and you have cause for it. I rejoice that so +many of you are personally known to me! You and I, my sisters, have had +much communion, and many happy times together; for sometimes we have had +surcease from toil and a breath of God's fresh air together. + +Be hopeful! endure a little longer; for a new spirit walks this old +world to bless it, and to right your long-continued wrongs. + +Oh! how you have suffered, sisters mine! and while I have been writing +this chapter you have all been around me. But you are the salt of the +underworld; you are much better than the ten just men that were not +found in Sodom. And when for the underworld the day of redemption +arrives, it will be you, my sisters, the simple, the suffering, enduring +women that will have hastened it! + +So I dwell upon the good that is in the netherworld, in the sure and +certain hope, whether my feeble words and life help forward the time +or not, that the day is not far distant when the dead shall rise! When +justice, light and sweetness will prevail, and in prevailing will purify +the unexplored depths of the sad underworld. + +I offer no apology for inserting the following selections from London +County Council proceedings. Neither do I make any comment, other than +to say that the statements made present matters in a much too favourable +light. + +"LONDON'S CHILD SLAVES + +"OVERWORK AND BAD NUTRITION + +"Disclosures in L.C.C. Report. + +(From the Daily Press, December 1911) + +"The comments passed by members of the L.C.C. at the Education Committee +meeting upon the annual report of the medical officer of that committee +made it clear that many very interesting contents of the report had not +been made public. + +"The actual report, which we have now seen, contains much more that +deserves the serious attention of all who are interested in the problem +of the London school child. + +"There is, for example, a moving page on child life in a north-west +poverty area, where, among other conditions, it is not uncommon to find +girls of ten doing a hard day's work outside their school work; they are +the slaves of their mothers and grandmothers. + +"The great amount of anaemia and malnutrition among the children in this +area (says the report) is due to poverty, with its resultant evils of +dirt, ill-feeding and under-feeding, neglect and female labour. + +"Cheap food.--The necessity for buying cheap food results in the +purchasing of foodstuffs which are deficient in nutrient properties. The +main articles of diet are indifferent bread and butter, the fag ends +of coarse meat, the outside leaves of green vegetables, and tea, and +an occasional pennyworth of fried fish and potatoes. Children who are +supplied with milk at school, or who are given breakfast and dinner, +respond at once to the better feeding, and show distinct improvement in +their class work. The unemployment among the men obliges the women to +seek for work outside the home, and the under-payment of female labour +has its effect upon the nutrition of the family. + +"'Investigation in the senior departments of one school showed that 144 +children were being supported by their mothers only, 57 were living on +their sisters, 68 upon the joint earnings of elder brothers and +sisters, while another 130 had mothers who went out to work in order to +supplement the earnings of the father. + +"'Approximately one-third of the children in this neighbourhood are +supported by female labour. With the mother at work the children rapidly +become neglected, the boys get out of control, they play truant, they +learn to sleep out, and become known to the police while they are still +in the junior mixed department.' + +"The Girl Housewife.--The maintenance of the home, the cooking and +catering, is done by an elderly girl who sometimes may not be more than +ten years of age. The mother's earnings provide bread and tea for the +family and pay the rent, but leave nothing over for clothing or boots. + +"Many of the boys obtain employment out of school hours, for which they +are paid and for which they may receive food; others learn to hang about +the gasworks and similar places, and get scraps of food and halfpence +from the workmen. In consequence they may appear to be better nourished +than the girls 'who work beyond their strength at domestic work, +step cleaning, baby minding, or carrying laundry bundles and running +errands.' For this labour they receive no remuneration, since it is done +for the family. + +"A remarkable paragraph of the report roundly declares-- + +"'The provision generally at cost price of school meals for all who +choose to pay for them would be a national economy, which would do +much to improve the status of the feeding centres and the standard of +feeding. This principle is applied most successfully in schools of +a higher grade, and might well be considered in connection with the +ordinary elementary schools of the Council. Such a provision would +probably be of the greatest benefit to the respectable but very poor, +who are too proud to apply for charity meals, and whose children are +often penalised by want, and the various avoidable defects or ailments +that come in its train.' + +"Feeding wanted.--Of the children of a Bethnal Green school, the school +doctor is quoted as reporting that 'it was not hospital treatment but +feeding that was wanted.' + +"Among curious oddments of information contained in the report, it is +mentioned that the children of widows generally show superior physique. + +"The teeth are often better in children from the poorer homes, 'perhaps +from use on rougher food materials which leaves less DEBRIS to undergo +fermentation.' + +"'Children of poorer homes also often have the advantage of the fresh +air of the streets, whilst the better-off child is kept indoors and +becomes flabby and less resistant to minor ailments. The statistics of +infantile mortality suggest that the children of the poorer schools +have also gone through a more severe selection; disease weeding out by +natural selection, and the less fit having succumbed before school age, +the residue are of sturdier type than in schools or classes where such +selection has been less intense.'" + + + +CHAPTER III. THE NOMADS + +A considerable portion of the inhabitants of the world below the line +are wanderers, without home, property, work or any visible means of +existence. For twenty years it has been the fashion to speak of them +as the "submerged," and a notable philanthropist taught the public to +believe that they formed one-tenth of our population. + +It was currently reported in the Press that the philanthropist I have +referred to offered to take over and salve this mass of human wreckage +for the sum of one million pounds. His offer was liberally responded to; +whether he received the million or not does not matter, for he has at +any rate been able to call to his assistance thousands of men and women, +and to set them to work in his own peculiar way to save the "submerged." + +From a not unfriendly book just published, written by one who was for +more than twenty years intimately associated with him, and one of +the chief directors of his salvage work, we learn that the result has +largely been a failure. + +To some of us this failure had been apparent for many years, and though +we hoped much from the movement, we could not close our eyes to facts, +and reluctantly had to admit that the number of the "submerged" did not +appreciably lessen. + +True, shelters, depots, bridges, homes and labour homes were opened +with astonishing celerity. Wood was chopped and paper sorted in immense +quantities, but shipwrecked humanity passed over bridges that did +not lead to any promised land, and abject humanity ascended with the +elevators that promptly lowered them to depths on the other side. + +Stimulated by the apparent success or popularity of the Salvation Army, +the Church Army sprang into existence, and disputed with the former the +claim to public patronage, and the right to save! It adopted similar +means, it is certain with similar results, for the "submerged" are still +with us. + +I say that both these organisations pursued the same methods and worked +practically on the same lines, for both called into their service a +number of enthusiastic young persons, clothed them in uniforms, horribly +underpaid them, and set them to work to save humanity and solve social +and industrial problems, problems for which wiser and more experienced +people fail to find a solution. It would be interesting to discover what +has become of the tens of thousands of enthusiastic men and women who +have borne the uniform of these organisations for periods longer or +shorter, and who have disappeared from the ranks. + +How many of them are "submerged" I cannot say, but I know that some have +been perilously near it. + +I am persuaded that this is a dangerous procedure, very dangerous +procedure, and the subscribing public has some right to ask what has +become of all the "officers" who, drawn from useful work to these +organisations, have disappeared. + +But as a continual recruiting keeps up the strength, the subscribing +public does not care to ask, for the public is quite willing to part +with its vested interests in human wreckage. All this leads me to say +once more that the "submerged" are still with us. Do you doubt it? Then +come with me; let us take a midnight walk on the Thames Embankment; any +night will do, wet or dry, winter or summer! + +Big Ben is striking the hour as we commence our walk at Blackfriars; we +have with us a sack of food and a number of second-hand overcoats. The +night is cold, gusty and wet, and we think of our warm and comfortable +beds and almost relinquish our expedition. The lights on Blackfriars +Bridge reveal the murky waters beneath, and we see that the tide is +running out. + +We pass in succession huge buildings devoted to commerce, education, +religion and law; we pass beautiful gardens, and quickly we arrive at +the Temple. The lamps along the roadway give sufficient light for our +purpose, for they enable us to see that here and there on the seats and +in the recesses of the Embankment are strange beings of both sexes. + +Yonder are two men, unkempt and unshaven, their heads bent forward +and their hands thrust deep into their trousers pockets and, to all +appearance, asleep. + +Standing in a sheltered corner of the Temple Station we see several +other men, who are smoking short pipes which they replenish from time to +time with bits of cigars and cigarettes that they have gathered during +the day from the streets of London. + +I know something of the comedy and tragedy of cigar ends, for times and +again I have seen a race and almost a struggle for a "fat end" when some +thriving merchant has thrown one into the street or gutter. Suddenly +emerging from obscurity and showing unexpected activity, two half-naked +fellows have made for it; I have seen the satisfaction of the fellow who +secured it, and I have heard the curse of the disappointed; but there! +at any time, on any day, near the Bank, or the Mansion House, in +Threadneedle Street, or in Cheapside such sights may be seen by those +who have eyes to see. + +These two fellows have been successful, for they are assuaging the pangs +of hunger by smoking their odds and ends. They look at us as we pass to +continue our investigation. Here on a seat we find several men of motley +appearance; one is old and bent, his white beard covers his chest, he +has a massive head, he is a picturesque figure, and would stand well +for a representation of Old Father Thames, for the wet streams from his +hair, his beard and his ample moustache. Beside him sits a younger +man, weak and ill. His worn clothing tells us of better days, and we +instinctively realise that not much longer will he sit out the midnight +hours on the cold Embankment. + +Before we distribute our clothes and food, we continue our observation. +What strikes us most is the silence, for no one speaks to us, no hand is +held out for a gift, no requests are made for help. + +They look at us unconcernedly as we pass; they appear to bear their +privations with indifference or philosophy. Yonder is a woman leaning +over the parapet looking into the mud and water below; we speak to her, +and she turns about and faces us. Then we realise that Hood's poem +comes into our mind; we offer her a ticket for a "shelter," which she +declines; we offer her food, but she will have none of it; she asks us +to leave her, and we pass on. + +Here is a family group, father and mother with two children; their +attire and appearance tell us that they are tramps; the mother has a +babe close to her breast, and round it she has wrapt her old shawl; a +boy of five sits next to her, and the father is close up. + +The parents evidently have been bred in vagrancy, and the children, and, +unless the law intervenes, their children are destined to continue the +species. The whining voice of the woman and the outstretched hands of +the boy let us know that they are eager and ready for any gift that pity +can bestow. + +But we give nothing, and let me say that after years of experience, +I absolutely harden my heart and close my pocket against the tramping +beggar that exploits little children. And to those who drag children, +droning out hymns through our quiet streets on Sunday, my sympathies +extend to a horsewhip. + +We leave the tramps, and come upon a poor shivering wretch of about +thirty-five years; his face presents unmistakable signs of disease more +loathsome than leprosy; he is not fit to live, he is not fit to die; he +is an outcast from friends, kindred and home. He carries his desolation +with him, and the infirmary or the river will be the end of him. + +Here are two stalwart fellows, big enough and strong enough to do useful +work in the world. But they are fresh from prison, and will be back in +prison before long; they know us, for it is not the first time we have +made their acquaintance. + +They are by no means backward in speaking and telling us that they want +"just ten shillings to buy stock in Houndsditch which they can sell +in Cheapside." As we move away they beg insistently for "just a few +shillings; they don't want to get back to prison." + +Now we come to a youth of eighteen; he seems afraid, and looks at us +with suspicious eyes; what is he doing here? We are interested in him, +so young, yet alone on the Embankment. We open our bag and offer him +food, which he accepts and eats; as we watch him our pity increases: +he is thinly clad, and the night air is damp and cold; we select an old +coat, which he puts on. Then we question him, and he tells us that his +mother is dead, his father remarried; that his stepmother did not like +him, and in consequence his father turned him out; that he cannot get +work. And so on; a common story, no originality about it, and not much +truth! + +We suddenly put the question, "How long have you lived in +lodging-houses?" "About three years, sir." "What did you work at?" +"Selling papers in the streets." "Anything else?" "No, sir." "You had +not got any lodging money to-night.?" "No." "Ever been in prison?" +"Only twice." "What for?" "Gambling in the streets," and we leave him, +conscious that he is neither industrious, honest nor truthful. + +We come at length to Waterloo Bridge, and here in the corners and +recesses of the steps we find still more of the submerged, and a pitiful +lot they are. + +We look closely at them, and we see that some are getting back to +primeval life, and that some are little more than human vegetables. We +know that their chief requirements are food, sleep and open air; and +that given these their lives are ideal, to themselves! But we distribute +our food amongst them, we part with our last old coat, we give tickets +for free shelters, but we get no thanks, and we know well enough +that the shelter tickets will not be used, for it is much easier for +philosophic vagabondage to remain curled up where it is than to struggle +on to a shelter. + +So we leave them, and with a feeling of hopelessness hurry home to our +beds. + +But let us revisit the Embankment by day at 11 a.m. We take our stand +right close to Cleopatra's Needle; we see that numbers of wretched +people, male and female, are already there, and are forming themselves +into a queue three deep, the males taking the Westminster side of the +Needle, the females the City side. + +While this regiment of a very dolorous army is gathering together, +and forming silently and passively into the long queue, we look at the +ancient obelisk, and our mind is carried backward to the days of old, +when the old stone stood in the pride of its early life, and with its +clear-cut hieroglyphics spoke to the wonderful people who comprised the +great nation of antiquity. + +We almost appeal to it, and feel that we would like to question it, +as it stands pointing heavenwards beside our great river. Surely the +ancient stone has seen some strange sights, and heard strange sounds in +days gone by. + +Involuntarily we ask whether it has seen stranger sights, and heard more +doleful sounds than the sights to be seen under its shadow to-day, and +the sounds to be heard around it by night. Could it speak, doubtless +it would tell of the misery, suffering, slavery endured by the poor +in Egypt thousands of years ago. Maybe it would tell us that the great +empire of old had the same difficulties to face and the same problems to +solve that Great Britain is called upon to face and to solve to-day. + +For the poor cried for bread in the days of the Pharaohs, and they were +crowded into unclean places, but even then great and gorgeous palaces +were built. + +"Can you tell us, Ancient Stone, has there been an onward march of good +since that day? Are we much better, wiser, happier and stronger than the +dusky generations that have passed away?" But we get no response from +the ancient stone, as grim and silent it stands looking down upon us. So +we turn to the assembled crowd. See how it has grown whilst we have been +speculating. Silently, ceaselessly over the various bridges, or through +the various streets leading from the Strand they have come, and are +still coming. + +There is no firm footstep heard amongst them as they shufflingly take +their places. No eager expectation is seen on any face, but quietly, +indifferently, without crushing, elbowing, they join the tail-end of the +procession and stand silently waiting for the signal that tells them to +move. + +Let us walk up and down to count them, for it is nearly twelve o'clock, +and at twelve o'clock the slow march begins. So we count them by threes, +and find five hundred men to the right and one hundred women to the +left, all waiting, silently waiting! Stalwart policemen are there to +keep order, but their services are not required. + +In the distance the whirl of London's traffic raises its mighty voice; +nearer still, the passing tramcars thunder along, and the silence of the +waiting crowd is made more apparent by these contrasts. + +Big Ben booms the hour! it is twelve o'clock! and the slow march begins; +three by three they slowly approach the Needle, and each one is promptly +served with a small roll of bread and a cup of soup; as each one +receives the bread and soup he steps out of the ranks, promptly and +silently drinks his soup, and returns the cup. Rank follows rank till +every one is served, then silently and mysteriously the crowd melts +away and disappears. The police go to other duties, the soup barrows are +removed; the grim ancient stone stands once more alone. + +But a few hours later, even as Big Ben is booming six, the "Miserables" +will be again waiting, silently waiting for the rolls of bread and +the cups of soup, and having received them will again mysteriously +disappear, to go through the same routine at twelve o'clock on the +morrow. Aye! and to return on every morrow when soup and rolls are to be +had. + +It looks very pitiful, this mass of misery. It seems very comforting to +know that they are fed twice a day with rolls and soup, but after all +the matter wants looking at very carefully, and certain questions must +be asked. + +Who are these miserables? How comes it that they are so ready to receive +as a matter of course the doles of food provided for them? Are they +really helped, and is their position really improved by this kind of +charity? I venture to say no! I go farther, and I say very decidedly +that so long as the bulk of these people can get food twice a day, and +secure some kind of shelter at night, they will remain content to be +as they are. I will go still farther and say, that if this provision +becomes permanent the number of the miserables will increase, and the +Old Needle will continue to look down on an ever-growing volume of +poverty and wretchedness. + +For after receiving the soup and bread, these nomads disappear into the +streets and by-ways of London, there by hook or crook, by begging or +other means, to secure a few coppers, to pick up scraps of food, and to +return to the Embankment. + +I have walked up and down the Embankment, I have looked searchingly +at the people assembled. Some of them I have recognised as old +acquaintances; many of them, I know, have no desire to be other than +what they are. To eat, to sleep, to have no responsibility, to be free +to live an uncontrolled life, are their ambitions; they have no other. +Some of them are young men, only twenty years of age, who have seen +the inside of prison again and again. Some of them are older, who have +tramped the country in the summer time and have been drawn to London by +the attraction of an easy feeding in the winter. Search their ranks! and +you will find very little genuine, unfortunate, self-respecting poverty. +They are what they are, and unless other means are adopted they will, +remain what they are! + +And so they will eat the bread and drink the soup; they will come at +twelve o'clock noon; they will come at six o'clock in the evening. They +will sleep where they can, and to-morrow will be as to-day; and the next +day as to-morrow, unless some compulsion is applied to them. + +All this is very sad, but I venture to say it is true, and it seems to +be one of the evils almost inseparable from our present life. Probably +in every clime and every age such women and men have existed. The savage +lives in all of us, and the simple life has its attractions. To be free +of responsibility is, no doubt, a natural aspiration. But when I see how +easy it is for this class of people to obtain food, when I see how easy +it is for them to obtain shelter, when I see and know how thousands of +the poor are unceasingly at work in order to provide a modicum of food +and the semblance of a shelter, then it occurs to me, and I am sure it +will to any one who thinks seriously upon the matter, that these men and +women, who are harking back to the life of the idle savage, are treated +better in Christian England than the industrious, self-respecting but +unfortunate poor. But come with me to see another sight! It is again +afternoon, and we take our stand at 3.30 p.m. outside a shelter for +women which every night receives, for fourpence each, some hundreds of +submerged women. + +The doors will not be opened till six o'clock, so we are in time to +watch them as they arrive to take their places in the waiting queue. A +policeman is present to preserve order and keep the pavement clear; but +his service is not required, for the women are very orderly, and allow +plenty of room for passers-by. + +As the time for opening approaches, the number of waiting women +increases until there is a waiting silent crowd. No photograph could +give the slightest idea of their appearance, for dirt and misery are not +revealed by photography. + +Let us look at them, for the human eye sees most! What do we see? +Squalor, vice, misery, dementia, feeble minds and feeble bodies. Old +women on the verge of the grave eating scraps of food gathered from the +City dustbins. Dirty and repulsive food, dirty and repulsive women! who +have begged during the day enough coppers to pay for their lodging +by night. Girls of twenty, whose conduct in their homes has been +outrageous, and whose life in London must be left to imagination. +Middle-aged women, outcasts, whose day has past, but who have still +capabilities for begging and stealing. The whole company presents an +altogether terrible picture, and we are conscious that few of the women +have either the ability or the desire to render decent service to the +community, or to live womanly lives. + +At length the door opens, and we watch them pass silently in, to sleep +during the night in the boxes arranged on the floors, their bodies +unwashed, and their clothing unchanged. Happy are such women when some +trumpery theft lands them in prison, for there at any rate a change of +clothing is provided, and a bath is compulsory. + +If we stand outside a men's shelter, we see a similar state of things, a +waiting crowd. A passive, content, strange mixed lot of humans. Some of +them who have been well educated, but are now reaping the harvest that +follows the sowing of wild oats. The submerged males are, on the whole, +less repulsive than the women; dirt is less in evidence, and they +exhibit a better standard of health. But many of them are harking back +to nature, and remind us of the pictures we have seen of primeval man. + +I want to say a few words about the submerged that congregate on +the Thames Embankment, and the humanity we have seen enter the cheap +shelters. + +My experience has shown me that they constitute the lowest grade and the +least hopeful class of the submerged. Amongst them there are very few +decent and helpable men and women who are capable of rising to a higher +life. Say what we will, be as pitiful as we may, those of us who have +much experience of life know perfectly well that there exists a large +class of persons who are utterly incapable of fulfilling the duties of +decent citizenship. It may be that they are wicked, and it is certain +that they are weak, but whether wicked or weak, they have descended by +the law of moral gravitation and have found their level in the lowest +depths of civilised life. + +And they come from unexpected quarters, for some who have known comfort +and refinement are now quite content with their present conditions. +Whether born of refined parents, or of rude and ignorant parents, +whether coming from a tramping stock, or from settled home life, they +have one thing in common. It is this--the life they live has a powerful +attraction for them; they could not if they would, and would not if they +could, live lives that demand decency, discipline and industry. Nothing +but compulsion will ever induce them to submit themselves to disciplined +life. But let it be clearly understood that I am now speaking only of +the lowest class of the submerged. While my experience has taught me +that they, humanly speaking, are a hopeless lot, I have learned that +they have their qualities. They can endure if they cannot work; they can +suffer if they cannot strive. After all I am persuaded that they get a +fair amount of happiness. Simple pleasures are the greatest, perhaps the +only real pleasures. We all like to be free of responsibilities. There +is no rent-day coming round with dread certainty and irritating monotony +to the nomads. No rate collector irritates them with his imperious +"demand note." No school-board officer rouses them to a sense of duty by +his everlasting efforts to force their children to school. No butcher, +no baker, no milkman duns them for payment of bills long overdue! +They escape the danger of furniture on the "hire system." For them no +automatic gas meter grudgingly doles out its niggardly pennyworths of +gas. They are not implored to burden themselves with the ENCYCLOPAEDIA +BRITANNICA. + +They are free from the seductions of standard bread; paper-bag cookery +causes them no anxious thought. Even "sweet peas" do not enter into +their simple calculations. Finally no life assurance agent marks them +for his prey, and no income-tax tempts them to lie! From all these +things they are free, and I would like to know who would not wish to +be free of them and a thousand other worries I would escape them if I +could, but alas I cannot. + +Decidedly there is much to be said for the life of a nomad, but whether +or not I should place him among the inhabitants of the underworld I +am not sure; for he toils not, neither does he spin, and his bitterest +enemies cannot accuse him of taking thought for the morrow. I had almost +forgotten one great advantage he possesses: he need not wash; and when +this distasteful operation becomes, for sanitary reasons, absolutely +necessary, why then he can take a month in one of our great sanatoria, +either prison or workhouse will do, and be thoroughly cleansed! + +The idea of such free and easy folk being saved by a shelter and +wood-chopping is very funny. + +But we are all tramps, more or less; it is only a question of degree! +Who would not like to tramp with George Borrow through Spain or Wales +I would like the chance! Who does not feel and hear the "call of the +wild"? Most certainly all Britons thrill with it. Who does not like to +feel the "wind on the heath" beat on his face and fill his nostrils! +Who does not love the sweetness of country lanes, or the solitude of +mountains, or the whispering mystery of the wood, or the terrors of the +sea, or the silence of midnight? + +All these things are ingrained in us, part and parcel of our very +selves; we cannot get away from them if we would, and woe betide us if +we did! For this is a grand quality in itself, one that has made our +nation and our empire. But couple it with idleness, inertia, feebleness, +weak minds, and weaker bodies; why, then you get the complete article, +the vegetable human! the guinea-pig man; if you will, the "submerged," +or at any rate a portion of them. + +Originally I have no doubt the human family were nomads, and many of our +good old instincts still survive, but civilisation has killed others. +In every cross-bred species of animals or plants there are "reverts" +or "throwbacks," and the human family produces plenty of them. Every +civilised country has its "throwbacks," and the more monotonous +civilisation becomes, the more cast-iron its rules, and the more +scientific and educated its people, the more onerous and difficult +become the responsibilities and duties of citizenship; and the greater +the likelihood of in increased number of reverts to undisciplined and +wild life. In this direction the sea and our colonies are the safeguard +of England. But to-day we pay in meal or malt for our civilisation, +for many brave lads, with thews and muscles, are chafing, fretting and +wearing out their hearts in dull London offices or stores, where they +feel choked, hampered, cabined and confined, for civilisation chains +them to their desks. + +But I am wandering too! I will hark back. Another cause, and a fruitful +cause, of nomadic life is to be found in the ever-increasing number +of young incapables that our present-day life produces. Characterless, +backboneless, negative kind of fellows with neither wisdom nor stature +abound. Up to eighteen years they pass muster, but after that age they +are useless; in reality they need caring for all their lives. They +possess no initiative, no self-reliance, and little capability for +honest work, unless it be simple work done under close supervision. Our +industrial life is too strenuous for these young men; they are laggards +in life's race, they quickly fall behind, and ultimately become +disqualified altogether. + +Many of their parents refuse them shelter, the streets become their +home; absolute idleness supervenes; their day is past. Henceforward they +are lodging-house habitues, or wanderers on the face of the earth. + +More pitiable still is the case of those that may be classed as +feeble-minded, and who are just responsible enough to be quite +irresponsible. Idiots and imbeciles have largely disappeared from +country villages and small towns. They are well taken care of, for our +large asylums are full of them; they have good quarters, good food, +every attention, so they live long in the land. + +But the case is very different with the half imbeciles or the half mad. +Short terms of imprisonment with short periods of hopeless, useless +liberty and an occasional spell in the workhouse constitute the circle +of their lives; and a vicious circle it is. Can any life be more +pitiable? Sane enough to know that they are not quite sane, insane +enough to have no wish to control their animal or vicious instincts. +Possessing no education, strength or skill, of no possible use in +industrial life, with no taste for decency or social life; sleeping by +day in our parks, and by night upon the Embankment. But they mate; and +as like meets with like the result may be imagined! Here again we +are paying for our neglect of many serious matters. Bad housing, +overcrowding, incessant work by the mothers whilst bearing children, +drinking habits among the parents, insufficient food for the children, +endless anxieties and worries. All these things and more amongst that +portion of the nation which produces the largest families; what wonder +that many incapable bodies and minds result! + +But if civilisation allows all this, civilisation must pay the penalty, +which is not a light one, and continue to have the miserables upon the +Embankment. + +Have we no pity! no thought for the next generation, no concern for +ourselves! No! I do not recommend a lethal chamber, but I do strongly +advise permanent detention and segregation for these low types of +unfortunate humanity. Nothing less will avail, and expensive though it +might be for a time, it would pay in the near future, and would be at +once an act of mercy and justice. + +Yes, on the Thames Embankment extremes meet, the ages are bridged over, +for the products of our up-to-date civilisation stand side by side with +the products of primeval habits and nomadic life. + + + +CHAPTER IV. LODGING-HOUSES + +The inmates of the underworld lodging-houses are a queer and +heterogeneous lot; but they are much to be preferred to the sleepers +out; because rascally though many of them are, there is a good deal +of self-reliance and not a little enterprise amongst them. By hook and +crook, and, it is to be feared, mostly by crook, they obtain sufficient +money for food and lodging, and to this extent they are an improvement +upon the sleepers out. They have, too, some pluck, perseverance and +talents that, rightly applied, might be of considerable benefit to +the community. But having got habituated to the liberty of common +lodging-houses, and to the excitement of getting day by day just enough +for each day's need, though sometimes fasting and sometimes feasting, +the desire for settled home life and for the duties of citizenship has +vanished. For with the money to pay night by night for their lodgings, +responsibility to rent and tax collector ends. + +I must allow some exceptions, for once every year there comes upon +thousands of them the burden of finding five shillings to pay for the +hawker's licence that provides them with the semblance of a living, or +an excuse for begging. After much experience of this class, including +many visits to common lodging-houses, and some friendships with the +inmates, I am sure that the desire to be untrammelled with social and +municipal obligation leads a great percentage of the occupants to prefer +the life to any other. They represent to some extent in this modern and +industrial age the descendants of Jonadab, the son of Rechab, with this +exception, they are by no means averse to the wine-cup. It is to be +feared that there is a growth in this portion of our community, for +every scheme for providing decent lodgings for casually homeless men +is eagerly taken advantage of by men who might and who ought to live in +homes of their own, and so fulfil the duties of decent citizenship. In +this respect even Lord Rowton's estimable lodging-houses, and those, +too, of our municipal authorities prove no exception, for they attract +numbers of men who ought not to be there, but who might, with just a +little more self-reliance and self-respect, live comfortably outside. + +But I pass on to the common lodging-houses that accommodate a lower +class than is found in municipal or Rowton houses. Probably none, or +at any rate very few, of my readers have had a practical experience of +common lodging-houses. I have, so therefore I ask them to accompany me +to one of them. + +In a dingy slum stand a number of grimy houses that have been converted +into one big house. The various doorways have been blocked and one +enlarged entrance serves. + +As we enter, the money-taker in his office demands our business. We tell +him that we are anxious to have a look round, and he tells us that he +will send for the deputy. The deputy is the autocrat that governs with +undisputable sway in this domain of semi-darkness and dirt. We stand +aside in the half-lit passage, taking good care that we have no contact +with the walls; the air we breathe is thick with unpleasant odours, +and we realise at once, and to our complete satisfaction, the smell and +flavour of a common lodging-house. We know instinctively that we have +made its acquaintance before, it seems familiar to us, but we are +puzzled about it until we remember we have had a foretaste of it given +to us by some lodging-house habitues that we met. The aroma of a common +lodging-house cannot be concealed, it is not to be mistaken. The hour +is six o'clock p.m., the days are short, for it is November. The lodgers +are arriving, so we stand and watch them as they pass the little office +and pay their sixpences. Down goes the money, promptly a numbered ticket +takes its place; few words are exchanged, and away go the ticket-holders +to the general kitchen. + +Presently the deputy comes to interview us, and he does not put us at +our ease; he is a forbidding fellow, one that evidently will stand no +nonsense. Observe, if you please, that he has lost his right hand, and +that a formidable iron hook replaces it. Many a time has that hook been +serviceable; if it could speak, many tales would it tell of victories +won, of rows quelled, and of blood spilled. + +We have seen the fellow previously, and more than once, at the local +police-court. Sometimes he came as prosecutor, sometimes as prisoner, +and at other times as witness. When the police had been required to +supplement the power of his iron hand in quelling the many free fights, +he appeared sometimes in the dual capacity of prisoner and prosecutor. + +We know that he retains his position because of his strength and the +unscrupulous way in which he uses it. He knows us too, but he is not +well pleased to see us! Nevertheless, he accedes to our request for +"just a look round." So through a large passage we pass, and he ushers +us into the lodging-house kitchen. As the door opens a babel of many +voices greets us, a rush of warm air comes at us, and the evidence of +our noses proclaims that bloaters and bacon, liver and onions, sausages +and fresh fish are being cooked. We look and see, we see and taste! +Strange eyes are turned upon us just for a moment, but we are not +"'tecs," so the eyes are turned back to the different frying-pans or +roasting-forks, as the case may be. See how they crowd round the huge +and open fire, for there is no cooking range. See how they elbow each +other as they want space for this pan or that fork. See how the bloaters +curl and twist as if trying to escape from the forks and the fire. See +how the sausages burst and splutter in their different pans. See how +stolidly the tough steaks brown, refusing either to splutter, yield fat, +or find gravy to assist in their own undoing. + +Listen to the sizzling that pervades the place, acting as an orchestral +accompaniment to the chorus of human voices. Listen to it all, breathe +it all, let your noses and your ears take it all in. Then let your eyes +and your imagination have their turn before the pungency of rank tobacco +adds to the difficulty of seeing and breathing. And so we look, and we +find there are sixty human beings of both sexes and various ages in that +kitchen. Some of them we know, for have we not seen them in Cheapside, +St. Paul's Churchyard, or elsewhere acting as gutter merchants. Yonder +sit an old couple that we have seen selling matches or laces for many +years past! It is not a race day, and there being no "test match" or +exciting football match, a youth of sixteen who earns a precarious +living by selling papers in the streets sits beside them. To-day papers +are at a discount, so he has given up business for the day and sought +warmth and company in his favourite lodging-house. + +Ah! there is our old friend, the street ventriloquist! You see the back +of his hand is painted in vivid colours to resemble the face of an old +woman. We know that he has a bundle that contains caps and bonnets, +dresses and skirts that will convert his hand and arm into a quaint +human figure. Many a droll story can he tell, for he has "padded the +hoof" from one end of England to the other; he knows every lodging-house +from Newcastle-on-Tyne to Plymouth. He is a graceless dog, fond of a +joke, a laugh and a story; he is honest enough and intelligent enough +for anything. But of regular life, discipline and work he will have +none. By and by, after the cooking is all done, he will want to give a +performance and take up a collection. + +There are a couple, male and female, who tramp the country lanes; the +farm haystacks or outbuildings have been their resting-places during the +summer, but approaching winter has sent them back to London. + +You see that they have got a tattered copy of Moody and Sankey's hymns, +which is their stock-in-trade. They have at different lodging-house +"services" picked up some slight knowledge of a limited number of tunes, +now they are trying to commit the words to memory. + +To-morrow they will in quiet streets be whining out "Oh, where is my boy +to-night?" or "Will you meet me at the Fountain?" + +Look again--here is a shabby-genteel man who lives by his wits. He is +fairly educated and can write a plausible letter. He is dangerous; his +stock-in-trade comprises local directories, WHO'S WHO, annual reports +of charitable societies, clergymen's lists, etc. He is a begging-letter +writer, and moves from lodging-house to lodging-house; he writes letters +for any of the inmates who have some particular tale of woe to unfold, +or some urgent appeal to make, and he receives the major part of the +resultant charity. + +He is drunken and bestial, he is a parasite of the worst description, +for he preys alike on the benevolent and upon the poor wretches whose +cause he espouses. + +He assumes many names, he changes his addresses adroitly, and ticks off +very carefully the names and addresses of people he has defrauded. +In fact, he is so clever and slippery that the police and the Charity +Organisation Society cannot locate him. So he thrives, a type of many, +for every one of London's common lodging-houses can provide us with one +or more such cunning rogues. + +Yonder sits a "wandering boy" about twenty-eight years of age. He is not +thriving, and he must needs be content with simple bread and cheese. A +roll of cheap "pirated" music lies on his knee and proclaims his method +of living. His life has its dangers, for he has great difficulty in +providing five shillings for his pedlar's licence, and he runs great +risk of having his stock seized by the police, and being committed to +prison for a fine he cannot pay. + +He has brought sorrow and disgrace upon his parents, no eye brightens at +the mention of his name. Alas! he is a specimen of the "homeless boy" of +whom his neighbours the minstrels will sing to-morrow. He is silent and +moody, for he is not in funds. Are there none among the company whom +sheer misfortune has brought down into this underworld? we ask. Aye, +there are, for in this kitchen there are representatives of all sorts +and conditions. See that man in the corner by himself, speaking to no +one, cooking nothing, eating nothing; he is thinking, thinking! This +is his first night in a common lodging-house; it is all new to him, he +thinks it all so terrible and disgusting. + +He seems inclined to run and spend his night in the streets, and perhaps +it will be well for him to do so. He looks decent, bewildered and +sorrowful; we know at a glance that some misfortune has tripped him +up, we see that self-respect is not dead within him. We know that if he +stays the night, breathing the foul air, listening to the horrid talk, +seeing much and realising more, feeling himself attacked on every side +by the ordinary pests of common lodging-houses, we know that tomorrow +morning his self-respect will be lessened, his moral power weakened, and +his hope of social recovery almost gone. Let him stay a few weeks, then +the lodging-house will become his home and his joy. So we feel inclined +to cry out and warn him to escape with his life. This is the great evil +and danger of common lodging-houses; needful as they undoubtedly are for +the homeless and the outcast, they place the unfortunate on an inclined +plane down which they slide to complete demoralisation. + +I am told that there are four hundred large common lodging-houses in +London, many of them capable of holding several hundred lodgers, and +which night after night are filled with a weird collection of humanity. +And they cast a fatal spell upon all who get accustomed to them. Few, +very few who have become acclimatised ever go back to settled home +life. For the decencies, amenities and restraints of citizenship +become distasteful. And truly there is much excitement in the life for +excitement, at any rate, abounds in common lodging-houses. + +Nothing happens in them but the unexpected, and that brings its joys and +terrors, its laughter and its tears. Here a great deal of unrestrained +human nature is given free play, and the results are exciting if not +edifying. Let us spend an evening, but not a night--that is too much to +ask-with the habitues. + +We sit apart and listen to the babel of voices, but we listen in vain +for the lodging-house slang of which we are told so much. They speak +very much like other people, and speak on subjects upon which other +people speak. They get as excited as ordinary people, too. + +Yonder is a lewd fellow shouting obscenities to a female, who, in an +equally loud voice and quite as unmistakable language, returns him a +Roland for every Oliver. + +Here are a couple of wordy excitable fellows who are arguing the pros +and cons of Free Trade and Tariff Reform. They will keep at it till the +lights are put out, for both are supplied with a plentiful supply of +contradictory literature. Both have fluent tongues, equally bitter, +and, having their audience, they, like other people, must contend for +mastery. Not that they care for the rights or wrongs of either question, +for both are prepared, as occasion serves, to take either side. +Religion, too, is excitedly discussed, for an animated couple are +discussing Christian Evidences, while the ventriloquist gives parsons +generally and bishops in particular a very warm time; even the Pope and +General Booth do not escape his scurrilous but witty indictments. + +Meanwhile the street singers are practising songs, sacred and secular, +and our friend the street minstrel produces an old flute and plays an +obbligato, whilst the quivering voice of his poor old wife again wants +to know the whereabouts of her wandering boy. + +There will be a touching scene when they do meet--may I be there! but +I hope they will not meet in a common lodging-house. Another street +minstrel is practising new tunes upon a mouth-organ, wherewith to soften +the hearts of a too obdurate public. + +What a babel it all makes; now groups of card-players are getting +quarrelsome, for luck has been against some, or cheating has been +discovered; blows are exchanged, and blood flows! As the night advances, +men and women under the influence of drink arrive. Some are merry, +others are quarrelsome, some are moody and lachrymose. The latter become +the butt of the former, the noise increases, confusion itself becomes +confounded, and we leave to avoid the general MELEE, and to breathe the +night air, which we find grateful and reviving. Phew! but it was hot and +thick, we don't want to breathe it again. It is astonishing that people +get used to it, and like it too! But it leaves its taint upon them, for +it permeates their clothing; they carry it about with them, and any +one who gets a whiff of it gets some idea of the breath of a common +lodging-house. And its moral breath has its effect, too! Woe to all that +is fresh and fair, young and hopeful, that comes within its withering +influence. Farewell! a long farewell to honour, truth and self-respect, +for the hot breath of a common lodging-house will blast those and every +other good quality in young people of either sex that inhale it. Its +breath comes upon them, and lo! they become foul without and vile +within, carrying their moral and physical contagion with them wherever +they go. + +A moral sepulchre, or rather crematorium, is the common lodging-house, +for when its work is done, nothing is left but ashes. For the old +habitues I am not much concerned, and though generally I hold a brief +for old sinners, criminals and convicts, I hold no brief for the old and +middle-aged habitues of a common lodging-house. + +Can any one call the dead to life? Can any one convert cold flesh into +warm pulsing life? Nay, nay! Talk about being turned into a pillar of +salt! the common lodging-house can do more and worse than that! It can +turn men and women into pillars of moral death, for even the influence +of a long term of penal servitude, withering as it is, cannot for one +moment be compared with the corrupting effect of common lodging-house +life. + +So the old minstrels may go seeking their wandering boy! and the +begging-letter writers may go hang! + +The human vultures that prey upon the simple and good-natured may, if +middle-aged, continue in their evil ways. But what of the young people +of whom there ought to be hope? What of them? how long are these "lazar +houses" to stand with open door waiting to receive, swallow, transform +and eject young humanity? But there is money in them, of course there +is; there always is money to be made out of sin and misery if the +community permits. + +Human wreckage pays, and furnishes a bigger profit than more humdrum +investments. I am told by an old habitue with whom I have had endless +talks and who has taught me much, although he is a graceless rascal, +that one man owns eight of these large establishments, and that he and +his family live in respectability and wealth. + +I have no reason to doubt his statement, for these places are mines of +wealth, but the owners take precious good care not to live in them. And +infinite care that their families do not inhabit them. Some day when we +are wise--but wisdom comes so slowly--these things will not be left to +private enterprise, for municipalities will provide and own them at no +loss to the ratepayers either. + +Then decency, though homeless, will have a chance of survival, and +moral and physical cleanliness some chance to live, even in a common +lodging-house. + +Sadly we need a modern St. George who will face and destroy this +monstrous dragon with the fiery breath. + +Let it not be said that I am unduly hard upon them who from choice or +misfortune inhabit these places. From my heart I pity them, but one +cannot be blind to the general consequences. And these things must be +taken into consideration when efforts are made, as undoubtedly efforts +will some day be made, to tackle this question in a reasonable way. + +It is high time, too, that the public understood the difficulties that +attend any effort to lift lodging-house habitues to a higher form of +existence. + +I am bold enough to hazard the statement that the number of these +people increases year by year, and that no redemptive effort has had the +slightest effect in checking the continual increase. As Secretary of +the Howard Association, it is my business year by year to make myself +acquainted with the criminal statistics, and all matters connected with +our prisons. These statistics more than confirm my statement, for they +tell us that while drunkenness, brutality, crimes of violence show +a steady decrease, vagabondage, sleeping out, begging, etc., show a +continual increase as years roll by. + +Of course many of them appear again and again in the prison statistics, +nevertheless they form a great and terrible army, whose increase bodes +ill for dear and fair old England. + +Like birds they are migratory, but they pour no sweetness on the morning +or evening air. Like locusts they leave a blight behind. + +Like famished wolves when winter draws near they seek the habitations of +men. Food they must have! There is corn in Egypt! + +When gentle spring returns, then heigho! for the country lanes, villages +and provincial towns, and as they move from place to place they leave +their trail behind them. + +And what a trail it is! ask the governors of our local prisons, ask the +guardians of any country districts, ask the farmers, aye, and ask the +timid women and pretty children, and, my word for it, they will be able +to tell you much of these strange beings that returning summer brings +unfailingly before them. Their lodging is sometimes the cold hard +ground, or the haystack, or perchance, if in luck, an outbuilding. + +The prisons are their sanatoria, the workhouses their homes of rest, and +the casual ward their temporary conveniences. But always before them +is one objective, for a common lodging-house is open to them, and its +hypnotism draws them on and on. + +So on they go, procreating as they go. Carrying desolation with them, +leaving desolation behind them. The endurance of these people--I suppose +they must be called people--is marvellous and their rate of progression +is sometimes astonishing; weary and footsore, maimed, halt or blind they +get over the ground at a good uniform pace. + +Look at that strange being that has just passed us as we sat on the bank +of a country lane; he goes along with slouching gait and halting steps; +he has no boots worthy of the name, his tattered trousers, much too +long, give us glimpses of his flesh. He wears an old frock-coat that +hangs almost to his heels, and a cloth cap, greasy and worn, upon +his head. His beard is wild and abundant, and his hair falls upon his +shoulders in a way worthy of an artist or poet. + +Follow him, but not too closely, and you will find it hard to keep up +with him, he knows what he is making for. Neither George Borrow nor +Runciman would hold him for a week, for George would want to stop and +talk, but this fellow is silent and grim. A lazar house draws him on, +and he needs must reach it, weak and ill-fed though he is! And he will +reach others too, for he is on a circular tour. But next winter +will find him in a Westminster lodging-house if he has luck, on the +Embankment if he has not. + +He has an easy philosophy: "All the things in the world belong to all +the men in the world," is his outspoken creed, so he steals when he can, +and begs when he cannot steal. + +But think of this life when women share it, and children are born into +it, and lads and lassies are on the tramp. Dare we think of it? We dare +not! If we did, it would not be tolerated for a day. Neither dare I +write about it, for there are many things that cannot be written. So I +leave imagination to supply what words must not convey. + +But it is all so pitiful, it is too much for me, for sometimes I feel +that I am living with them, tramping with them, sleeping with them, +eating with them; I am become as one of them. I feel the horror, yet I +do not realise the charms. + +I am an Englishman! I love liberty! I must be free, or die! I want to +order my own life, to control my own actions, to run on my own lines; +I would that all men should have similar rights. But, alas! it cannot +be--civilisation claims and enchains us; we have to submit to its +discipline, and it is well that it should be so. We do not, cannot live +to ourselves, and for ourselves. Those days have long passed, and for +ever. Orderly life and regular duties are good for us, and necessary for +the well-being of the nation. + +A strong robust: nation demands and requires a large amount of freedom, +and this it must have, or perish! The individual man, too, requires a +fair amount if he is to be a man. But we may, and we do in some things +extend freedom beyond the legitimate bounds. For in a country of limited +area where the bulk of the people live onerous lives, and manfully +perform their duties, we allow a host of parasites to thrive and swarm. + +The more this host increases, the weaker the nation becomes, and its +existence may ultimately become not a sign of freedom but a proof of +national decay. For parasites thrive on weakly life, be it individual +or national. So while we have a profound pity for the nomads, let us +express it with a strong hand. They cannot care for themselves in any +decent way. Let us care for them, and detain them in places that will +allow permanent detention and segregation. And the results will be +surprising, for prisons will be less numerous, workhouses, casual wards +and asylums less necessary, lazar houses with their pestilential breath +will pass away, and England will be happier, sweeter and more free! + + + +CHAPTER V. FURNISHED APARTMENTS + +What fell power decreed that certain streets in London should be devoted +to the purpose of providing "furnished apartments" for the submerged +I do not know. But I do know that some streets are entirely devoted to +this purpose, and that a considerable amount of money is made out of +such houses. + +I ask my readers to accompany me for a visit to one of these streets, +and make some acquaintance with the houses, the furniture and the +inhabitants. + +The particular streets we select run at a right-angle from a main +thoroughfare, a railway divides them from a beautiful park, and on this +railway City merchants pass daily to and from their suburban homes. + +I question whether in the whole of London more misery, vice and poverty +can be found located in one limited area than in the streets we are +about to visit. I know them, and I have every reason for knowing them. +We make our visit in summer time, when poverty is supposed to be less +acute. As we enter the street we notice at once that a commodious +public-house stands and thrives at the entrance. We also notice +that there are in the street several "general" shops, where tea and +margarine, firewood, pickles, paraffin oil and cheese, boiled ham and +vinegar, corned beef and Spanish onions, bread and matches are to be +obtained. + +We stand in the middle of the roadway, in the midst of dirt and refuse, +and look up and down the street. Innumerable children are playing in +the gutter or on the pavements, and the whole place teems with life. We +observe that the houses are all alike, the shops excepted. They stand +three-storey high; there are nine rooms in each house. We look in vain +for bright windows and for clean and decent curtains. + +Every room seems occupied, for there is no card in any window announcing +"furnished apartments." The street is too well known to require +advertisement, consequently the "furnished apartments" are seldom +without tenants. + +The street is a cave of Adullam to which submerged married couples +resort when their own homes, happy or otherwise, are broken up. + +We notice that it is many days since the doors and window-frames of the +different houses made acquaintance with the painter. We notice that +all doors stand open, for it is nobody's business to answer a knock, +friendly or otherwise. We look in the various doorways and see in each +case the same sort of staircase and the same unclean desolation. + +Who would believe that Adullam Street is a veritable Tom Tiddler's +Ground? Would any one believe that a colony of the submerged could prove +a source of wealth? + +Let us count the houses on both sides of the street. Forty-five houses! +Leave out the two "general" shops, the greengrocer's and the "off +licence"; leave out also the one where the agent and collector lives, +that leaves us forty-one houses of nine rooms let out as furnished +apartments. + +If let to married couples that means a population of seven hundred +and thirty-eight, if all the rooms are occupied, and supposing that no +couple occupies more than one room. As for the children--but we dare not +think of them--we realise the advantage of the open street of which we +freely grant them the freehold. But we make the acquaintance of a tenant +and ask some questions. We find that she has two children, that they +have but one furnished room, for which they pay seven shillings and +sixpence weekly in advance! Always in advance! + +She further tells us that their room is one of the best and largest; it +faces the street, and is on the first floor. She says that some rooms +are let at six shillings, others at six shillings and sixpence, and some +at seven shillings. We ask her why she lives in Adullam Street, and she +tells us that her own furniture was obtained on the "hire system," and +when it was seized they came to Adullam Street, and they do not know how +they are to get out of it. + +That sets us thinking and calculating; three hundred and sixty-nine +rooms, rent always payable in advance--from the submerged, +too!--average six shillings and sixpence per week per room, why, that +is L120 per week, or L6,240 annually from forty-one houses, if they are +regularly occupied. Truly furnished apartments specially provided for +the submerged are extra specially adapted to the purpose of keeping them +submerged. + +As no deputy disputes our entrance, we enter and proceed to gain +some knowledge of the tenants, and take some stock of their rooms and +furniture. + +The rooms are simply but by no means sweetly furnished! Here is an +inventory and a mental picture of one room. A commodious bed with dirty +appointments that makes us shudder! A dirty table on which are some +odds and ends of unclean crockery, a couple of cheap Windsor chairs, a +forbidding-looking chest of drawers, a rusty frying-pan, a tin kettle, +a teapot and a common quart jug. He would be a bold man that bid ten +shillings for the lot, unless he bought them as a going concern. A cheap +and nasty paper covers the wall, excepting where pieces have been torn +away, and the broken walls are made of lath and plaster, to provide +splendid cover for innumerable insects which remain in undisputed +possession. + +One floor much resembles another, but the basement and the top storey +rooms are the worst of all. We look through the window of a second floor +back room, and see the out premises, but one look is sufficient. + +We want to know something of the tenants, so we enter into conversation +with them, and find them by no means reserved. + +Room 1. Husband and wife about thirty-five years of age, no children; +husband has been ill for some months, during which the rent got behind. +When he was taken to the infirmary they lost their home altogether; she +did washing and charing for a time, but ultimately got into the "House." + +When her husband got better, and was discharged from the infirmary, his +old mates collected ten shillings for him, he took the room in which +they now lived, and of course she joined him. + +How did they live? Well, it was hardly living; her husband looked round +every day and managed to "pick up something," and she got a day or +two days' work every week--their rent was always paid in advance. What +happened when her husband did not "pick up something" she did not say, +but semi-starvation seemed the only alternative. + +No. 2. Husband, wife and a girl of seven engaged in making coarse paper +flowers of lurid hue. They had been in that room for six months; they +sold the paper flowers in the streets, but being summer time they did +not sell many. At Christmas time people bought them for decorations; +sometimes people gave the girl coppers, but did not take the flowers +from her. The police watched them very closely, as they required a +licence for selling, and if they took the girl out in the wet or dark +the police charged them. + +It was very difficult to live at all, owing to police interference. The +girl did not go to school, but they had been warned that she must go; +they did not know what they should do when she could not help them. + +Room 3. A strong man about thirty, his wife and two young children. The +remains of a meal upon the table, a jug of beer and a smell of tobacco. +The man looks at us, and a flash of recognition is exchanged. He had +been released from prison at 8.30 that morning after serving a sentence +of nine months for shop robbery. + +We asked how much gratuity he had earned. Eight shillings, he told us. +His wife and children had met him at the prison gate; they had come +straight to that room, for which the wife had previously arranged; +they had paid a week in advance. "What was he going to do?" "He did not +know!" He did not appear to care, but he supposed he "must look round, +he would get the rent somehow." We felt that he spoke the truth, and +that he would "get the rent somehow" till the police again prevented +him. + +We know that prison will again welcome him, and that the workhouse gates +will open to receive his wife and children, the number of which will +increase during his next detention in prison. + +Room 4. Two females under thirty. No signs of occupation; they are not +communicative, neither are they rude, so we learn nothing from them +except that they were not Londoners. + +Room 5. A family group, father, mother and four children; they had come +to Adullam Street because they had been ejected from their own home. +Their goods and chattels had been put on the street pavement, whence the +parish had removed them to the dust destructor, probably the best thing +to do with them. + +The family were all unhealthy and unclean. The parents did not seem to +have either strength, grit or intelligence to fit them for any useful +life. But they could creep forth and beg, the woman could stand in the +gutter with a little bit of mortality wrapped in her old shawl, for +tender-hearted passers-by to see its wizened face, and the father could +stand not far away from her with a few bootlaces or matches exposed, as +if for sale. They managed to live somehow. + +Room 6. An elderly couple who had possessed no home of their own for +years past, but who know London well, for the furnished lodgings of the +east, west, north and south are familiar to them. + +He sells groundsel, she sells water-cress, at least they tell us so, +and point to baskets as evidence. But we know that groundsel business +of old. We have seen him standing in a busy thoroughfare with his +pennyworth of groundsel, and we know that though he receives many +pennies his stock remains intact, and we know also that pennyworths +of water-cress in the dirty hands of an old woman serve only the same +purpose. + +Room 7. Here we find a younger but not more hopeful couple; she is +fairly well dressed, and he is rather flashy. They have both food +and drink. We know that when the shades of night fall she will be +perambulating the streets, and he like a beast of prey will be watching +not far away. So we might go through the whole of the colony. There is +a strange assortment of humanity in Adullam Street. Vice and misery, +suffering and poverty, idleness and dishonesty, feeble-mindedness and +idiocy are all blended, but no set-off in virtue and industry is to be +found. + +The strong rogue lives next to the weak and the unfortunate, the +hardened old sinner next door to some who are beginning to qualify for a +like old age. The place is coated with dirt and permeated with sickening +odours. And to Adullam Street come young couples who have decided to +unite their lives and fortunes without any marriage ceremony; for in +Adullam Street such unions abound. + +Young fellows of nineteen earning as much as twelve shillings a week +couple with girls of less age earning ten shillings weekly. It looks so +easy to live on twenty-two shillings a week and no furniture to buy, and +no parson to pay. + +So a cheap ring is slipped on, and hand in hand the doomed couple go +to Adullam Street, which receives them with open arms, and hugs them +so long as six shillings and sixpence weekly is forthcoming in advance. +Their progress is very rapid; when the first child arrives, the woman's +earnings cease, and Adullam Street knows them no more. + +Ticket-of-leave men, ex-convicts, heroes of many convictions, come +to Adullam Street and bring their female counterparts with them. +They flourish for a time, and then the sudden but not unexpected +disappearance of the male leads to the disappearance of the female. She +returns to her former life; Adullam Street is but an incident in her +life. + +So there is a continual procession through Adullam Street; very little +good enters it, and it is certain that less good passes out. + +Where do its temporary inhabitants go? To prisons, to workhouses, to +hospitals, to common lodging-houses, to shelters, to the Embankment and +to death. + +Although those who seek sanctuary in Adullam Street are already +inhabitants of the underworld, a brief sojourn in it dooms them to lower +depths. I suppose there must be places of temporary residence for the +sort of people that inhabit it, for they must have shelter somewhere. +But I commend this kind of property to the searching eyes of the local +authorities and the police. + +But furnished apartments can tell another tale when they are not +situated in Adullam Street. For sometimes a struggling widow, or wife +with a sick husband, or a young married couple seek to let furnished +apartments as a legitimate means of income. When they do so, let them +beware of the underworld folk who happen to be better clothed and more +specious than their fellows, or they will bitterly rue it. + +Very little payment will they get. Couples apparently married and +apparently respectable, but who are neither, are common enough, who are +continually on the look-out for fresh places of abode, where they may +continue their depredation. + +They are ready enough with a deposit, but that is all the money they +mean to part with, and that has probably been raised by robbing their +last landlady. They can give references if required, and show receipts, +too, from their last lodgings, for they carry rent-books made out +by themselves and fully paid up for the purpose. They are adepts at +obtaining entrance, and, once in, they remain till they have secured +another place and marked another prey. + +Meanwhile their poor victims suffer in kind and money, and are brought +nearer destitution. I have frequently known a week's rent paid with the +part proceeds of articles stolen from either the furnished apartments, +or some other part of the house just entered. + +I could tell some sad stories of suffering and distress brought to +struggling and decent people by these pests, of whom a great number are +known to the police. + +And so the merry game goes on, for while vampires are sucking the impure +blood of the wretched dwellers in Adullam Street lodgings, the dwellers +in Adullam Street in their turn prey on the community at large. + +Meanwhile the honest and unfortunate poor can scarcely find cover, and +when they do, why, then their thin blood is drained, for they have to +pay exorbitantly. + +It is apparently easy to transmute wretched humanity into gold. But who +is going to call order out of this horrid chaos? No one, I am thinking, +for no one seems to dare attempt in any thorough way to solve the +question of housing the very poor, and that question lies at the root of +this matter. + +Let any one attempt it, and a thousand formidable vested interests rise +up and confront him, against which he will dash himself in vain. As to +housing the inhabitants of the underworld at a reasonable rental, no one +seems to have entertained the idea. + +Lease holders and sub-lease holders, landlords and ground landlords, +corporations and churches, philanthropists and clergymen have all got +vested interests in house property where wretchedness and dirt are +conspicuous. "But," said a notable clergyman in regard to some horrid +slum, "I cannot help it, I have only a life-interest in it," as if, +forsooth, he could have more; did he wish to carry his interests beyond +the grave? I would give life-interest in rotten house property short +shrift by burning the festering places. But such places are not burned, +though sometimes they are closed by the order of the local authorities. +But oftener still they are purchased by local authorities at great +public cost, or by philanthropic trusts. Then the human rabbits are +driven from their warrens to burrow elsewhere and so leave room for +respectability. + +Better-looking and brighter buildings are erected where suites of rooms +are to let at very high prices. Then a tax is placed upon children, and +a premium is offered to sterility. Glowing accounts appear in the Press, +and royalty goes to inspect the new gold mine! We rub our hands with +complacent satisfaction and say, "Ah! at last something is being done +for housing the very poor!" But what of the rabbits! have they ascended +to the seventh heaven of the new paradise? Not a bit; they cannot offer +the required credentials, or pay the exorbitant rent! not for them seven +flights of stone stairs night and morning; it is so much easier for +rabbits to burrow underground, or live in the open. So away they +scuttle! Some to dustheaps, some back to Adullam Street, some to nomadic +life. But most of them to other warrens, to share quarters with other +rabbits till those warrens in their turn are converted into "dwellings," +when again they must needs scuttle and burrow elsewhere. + +Can it be wondered at that these people are dirty and idle; and that +many of them ultimately prefer the settled conditions of prison or +workhouse life, or take to vagrancy? + +I cannot find a royal specific for this evil; humanity will, under any +conditions, have its problems and difficulties. Vagrants have always +existed, and probably will continue to exist while the human race +endures. But we need not manufacture them! Human rookeries and rabbit +warrens must go; England, little England, cannot afford them, and +ought not to tolerate them. But before we dispossess the rooks and the +rabbits, let us see to it that, somewhere and somehow, cleaner nests and +sweeter holes are provided for them. The more I think upon this question +the more I am convinced that it is the great question of the day, and +upon its solution the future of our country depends. + +See what is happening! Thousands of children born to this kind of +humanity become chargeable to the guardians or find entrance to the +many children's homes organised by philanthropy. One course is taken the +bright and healthy, the sound in body and mind, are emigrated; but the +smitten, the afflicted, the feeble and the worthless are kept at home +to go through the same life, to endure the same conditions as their +parents, and in their turn to produce a progeny that will burrow in +warrens or scuttle out of them even as their parents did before them. + +But the feebler the life, the greater the progeny; this we cannot +escape, for Nature will take care of herself. We, may drive out the +rabbits, we may imprison and punish them, we may compel them to live +in Adullam Street or in lazar houses, we may harry them and drive them +hither and thither, we may give them doles of food on the Embankment or +elsewhere. We may give them chopping wood for a day, we may lodge them +for a time in labour homes; all this we may do, but we cannot uplift +them by these methods. We cannot exterminate them. But by ignoring them +we certainly give them an easy chance of multiplying to such a degree +that they will constitute a national danger. + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE DISABLED + +In this chapter I want to speak of those who suffer from physical +disabilities, either from birth, the result of accident, or disease. +If this great army of homeless afflicted humanity were made to pass in +procession before us, it would, I venture to say, so touch our hearts +that we should not want the procession repeated. + +Nothing gives us more pleasure than the sight of a number of people who, +suffering from some one or other physical deprivation, are being taught +some handicraft by which they will be able to earn a modest living. + +Probably nothing causes us greater sadness than the sight of deformed +and crippled men and women who are utterly unable to render any useful +service to the community, and who consequently have to depend upon +their wits for a miserable living. It is a very remarkable thing that an +accident which deprives a man of a leg, of an arm, or of eyesight, +not only deprives him of his living, but also frequently produces a +psychological change. And unless some counterbalancing conditions serve +to influence in an opposite direction he may become dangerous. It was +not without reason that our older novelists made dwarfs and hunchbacks +to be inhuman fiends. Neither was it without reason that Dickens, our +great student of human nature, made of Quilp a twisted dwarf, and Stagg +a blind man his most dangerous characters. Some years ago I was well +acquainted with a very decent man, a printer; he had lived for years +beyond reproach; he was both a good workman, husband and father. But +he lost his right arm, the result of an accident at his work, and his +character changed from that day. He became morose, violent and cruel, +and obsessed with altogether false ideas. He could not reason as other +men, and he became dangerous and explosive. Time after time I have seen +him committed to prison, until he became a hopeless prison habitue. +My experience has also shown me that physical deprivations are equally +likely to lead to sharpened wits and perverted moral sense as to +explosive and cruel violence. Probably this is natural, for nature +provides some compensation to those who suffer loss. + +This is what makes the army of the physically handicapped so dangerous. +The disabled must needs live, and their perverted moral sense and +sharpened wits enable them to live at the expense of the public. + +Very clever, indeed, many of these men are; they know how to provoke +pity, and they know how to tell a plausible tale. Many of them can get +money without even asking for it. They know full well the perils that +environ the man who begs. I am not ashamed to say that I have been +frequently duped by such fellows, and have learned by sad experience +that my wits cannot cope with theirs, and that my safety lies in +hasty retreat when they call upon me, for I have always found that +conversation with them leads to my own undoing. + +Witness the following. One winter night my eldest son, who lives about +a mile away, went out to post a letter at midnight. After dropping his +letter in the pillar-box, he was surprised to hear a voice say, "Will +you kindly show me the way to Bridlington?" "Bridlington! why, it is +more than two hundred miles away." The request made my son gasp, for, as +I have said, it was winter and midnight. + +The audacity of the request, however, arrested his attention, and that +doubtless was the end to be secured. So a conversation followed. The +inquirer was a Scotchman about thirty years of age; he wore dark glasses +and was decently clad; he had been discharged from St. Bartholomew's +Hospital. He was a seaman, but owing to a boiler explosion on board he +had been treated in the hospital. Now he must walk to Bridlington, where +an uncle lived who would give him a home. He produced a letter from his +uncle, but he had either lost or torn up the envelope. All this and more +he told my son with such candour and sincerity, that he was soon the +poorer by half-a-crown. Then, to improve the fellow's chance of getting +to Bridlington, he brought him to me. I was enjoying my beauty sleep +when that ill-fated knock aroused me. Donning a warm dressing-gown and +slippers, I went down to the front door, and very soon the three of us +were shivering round the remains of a fire in my dining-room. + +Very lucidly and modestly Angus repeated the above story, not once did +he falter or trip. He showed me the letter from his uncle, he pointed +out the condition of his eyes and the scars on his face; with some demur +he accepted my half-crown, saying that he did not ask for anything, and +that all he wanted was to get to Bridlington. + +In my pyjamas and dressing-gown I explored the larder and provided him +with food, after which my son escorted him to the last tramcar, saw him +safely on his way to the Seamen's Institute with a note to the manager +guaranteeing the expense of his bed and board for a few days. + +Next day my son visited the Seamen's Institute, but alas! Angus was not +there, he had not been there. Nevertheless the manager knew something of +him, for three separate gentlemen had sent Angus to the institute. One +had found him in the wilds of Finchley looking for Bridlington! Another +had found him pursuing the same quest at Highgate, while still another +had come on him, with his dark glasses, bundle and stick, looking for +Bridlington on the road to Southgate. + +I do not know whether the poor fellow ever arrived at Bridlington, but +this I do know, that he has found his way northwards, and that he is now +groping and inquiring for Dawlish in Devonshire. + +The Manchester Guardian tells us that one silent evening hour poor +Angus was discovered in several different places in the vicinity of +Manchester. The same paper of the next day's date stated that eleven out +of the twelve who met poor Angus were so overcome by the poignancy +of his narrative and the stupendous character of his task, that they +promptly gave him financial assistance. I am strongly of the opinion +that the twelfth man was entirely without money at the time he met +Angus, or I feel that he would have proved no exception to the rule. In +my heart I was glad to find that the hard-headed citizens of Manchester +are just as kind-hearted and likely to be imposed upon as we are in +London. + +But Angus has been playing his fame for six years at least, for one +gentleman who gave him explicit directions more than five years ago +writes to the Manchester Guardian saying, "I am afraid he took a wrong +turning." + +It is evident that Angus has done fairly well at his business, and yet +it would appear that he never asked for a single penny since he first +started on his endless search. He always accepts money reluctantly, +and I much question whether the police have right to arrest him, or the +gulled public any ground to complain. + +But if Angus should ever get to his kind uncle at Bridlington, and that +respected gentleman should return the five shillings we gave to help his +unfortunate nephew, I will promise to be more careful in pressing money +upon strangers in future. But whether the money comes to hand or not I +have made myself a promise, and it is this: never more to get out of a +warm bed on a cold night to open the house and entertain a half-blind +man that speaks with a rich Scotch accent. + +But how clever it all is! Why, its very audacity ensures its success, +and Angus, for aught I know, has many fellow-craftsmen. Certainly if he +is alone he must be almost ubiquitous. But Angus and such-like are not +to be wondered at, for Nature herself endows all living things with +the powers to adapt themselves to circumstances and obtain the means +of defence and offence from their conditions. So Nature deals with +the human family, in whom the struggle for existence develops varied, +powerful and maybe dangerous characteristics. + +At present it is nobody's business to see that the maimed, the halt, +the blind are taught and trained to be of some service, and made able +in some way to earn a subsistence. Philanthropy, it is true, does +something, and also those blessed institutions, the schools for +the blind, and training homes for the crippled. I never see such +institutions without experiencing great gladness, for I know how much +evil they avert. But the great body of the physically afflicted are +without the walls and scope of these institutions, consequently tens of +thousands of men and women, because of their afflictions, are enabled to +prey upon the community with a cunning that other people cannot emulate. + +We hear daily of accidents. We learn of men and women losing arms, legs +and hands; our hearts are touched for a brief moment, then we remember +the particulars no more. The ultimate consequences are unseen, but they +are not to be avoided, for every cripple left uncared for may become a +criminal of dangerous type. + +Their elemental needs and passions still exist, notwithstanding their +physical deprivations. They claim the right to eat and drink, they claim +the right of perpetuating their kind. + +Some day perhaps the community will realise what the exercise of the +latter right means. Some day, and Heaven send that day soon, we shall be +horrified at the thought that a vast number of unfortunates exist among +us who, demanding our pity and our care, are going down to the grave +without that care to which their physical disabilities entitle them. + +As we look at these unfortunates, feelings of pity, disgust or amusement +may be aroused, but one moment's reflection would convince us that these +afflicted homeless creatures manage to exist and extort an expensive +living from the community. + +I have said that every disabled man is a potential criminal, and that +unless he receives some compensation giving him the means of earning +honestly his living, he is certain to be a danger or a parasite. This is +but natural, for in the first place his physical nature has received a +shock, has sustained an outrage, Nature strikes back, and some one has +to suffer. The loss of a limb means severed muscles, bones and nerves. +Nature never forgets that they ought to be there, but as they are +not there she does without them; but none the less she feels for them +instinctively, and becomes disappointed and bitter because she is +refused the use of them. + +Add to this the anxiety, the sufferings the amputated man feels when he +is also deprived of his means of livelihood, as well as his limb, and +from comfort comes down to penury. Perhaps he has been able hitherto +to keep his wife and children with a fair amount of comfort; now he is +helpless and has to depend upon them. + +He may be of proud spirit, but he has to endure mortification by seeing +his wife labour and slave for him. He becomes moody, then passionate, a +little drink maddens him, then comes the danger. He does something, +then the police are required, and prison awaits him. There he thinks and +broods over his wrong, with bitterness and revengeful spirit. Perhaps +his wife has been compelled to give evidence against him; he remembers +that, he scores it up, and henceforth there is no peace for either of +them! + +Frequent convictions follow, ultimately the wife has to claim the +protection of the law, and gets a separation order on account of his +cruelty. Henceforward he is an outcast, his children and friends cast +him off, for they are afraid of him. But he lives on, and many have to +suffer because he has lost a limb. + +We read a great deal about the development of character through +suffering, and well I know the purifying effects suffering has upon our +race; but it is well sometimes to look at the reverse side, and consider +what evil follows in the wake of suffering. + +Blind men, the deaf and the dumb and the physically disabled need our +pitiful consideration. Some of the sweetest, cleverest, bravest men I +know suffer from great physical disabilities, but they have pleasures +and compensations, they live useful lives, their compensations have +produced light and sweetness, they are not useless in a busy world, they +are not mere cumberers of the ground. They were trained for usefulness +whilst they were young. + +But a far different case is presented with the disabled among the very +poor. What chance in life is there for a youth of twenty who loses an +arm or leg? He has no friends whose loving care and whose financial +means can soften his affliction and keep him in comfort while training +for service. Who in this rich, industrial England wants such service as +he can render? Very few! and those who do make use of him naturally feel +that his service is not worth much. + +Numbers of my acquaintances like Angus half lose their sight! Who +requires their service? No one! But these men live on, and they mean to +live on, and Nature furnishes them with the means by giving them extra +cunning. Many of these fellows, poor disabled fellows, inhabit the dark +places of the underworld. Let us call them out of their dark places and +number them, classify them, note their disabilities! + +Truly they came down to the underworld through great afflictions. They +form the disabled army of civilisation's industrial world who have been +wounded and crippled in the battle. All sorts of accidents have happened +to them: explosions have blinded them, steam has scalded them, buffers +have crushed them, coal has buried them, trains have run over them, +circular saws have torn them asunder. They are bent and they are +twisted, they are terrible to look at; as we gaze at them we are +fascinated. March! now see them move! Did you ever see anything like +this march of disabled men from the gloom of the underworld? + +How they shuffle and drag along; what strange, twisted and jerky +movements they have; what sufferings they must endure, and what pain +they must have had. All these thoughts come to us as we look at the +march of the disabled as they twist and writhe past us. + +The procession is endless, for it is continually augmented by men and +women from the upperworld, who as conscripts are sent to the army below, +because they have sustained injuries in the service of the world above. + +So they pass! But the upperworld has not done with them; it does not get +rid of its natural obligations so easily. It suffers with them, and pays +dearly for its neglect of them. The disabled live on, they will not die +to please us, and they extract a pretty expensive living from the world +above. The worst of it is that these unfortunates prey also upon those +who have least to spare, the respectable poor just above the line. They +do not always sit at the gates of the rich asking for crumbs, for the +eloquence of their afflictions and the pity of their woes strike home +to the hearts and pockets of the industrious poor who have so little to +spare. But it is always much easier to rob the poor! + +It is our boast that Englishmen love justice, and it is a true boast! +But when we read of accidents and of surgical operations, does our +imagination lead us to ask: What about the future of the sufferers? Very +rarely, I expect. + +The fact is, we have got so used to this sight of maimed manhood that it +causes us but little anxious thought, though it may cause some feelings +of revulsion. + +But there is the Employers' Liability Act! Yes, I admit it, and a +blessed Act it is. But the financial consideration given for a lost limb +or a ruined body is not a fortune; it soon evaporates, then heigho! for +the underworld, for bitterness and craft. + +But all accidents do not come within the scope of that Act, not by any +means. If a married woman about to become a mother falls or rolls +down the stairs, when climbing to her home in the seventh heaven of +Block-land, if she sustains long injuries, who compensates her? If the +child is born a monstrosity, though not an idiot, who compensates for +that? If the poor must be located near the sky, how is it that "lifts" +cannot be provided for them? Who can tell the amount of maimed child, +middle-aged and elderly life that has resulted from the greasy stairs +and dark landings of London dwellings. Industrial life, commercial life +and social life take a rare toll of flesh and blood from the poor. For +this civilisation makes no provision excepting temporary sustentation in +hospitals, workhouses or prisons. Even our prison commissioners tell us +that "our prisons are largely filled with the very poor, the ignorant, +the feeble, the incapable and the incapacitated." + +It would appear that if we can make no other provision for the disabled, +we can make them fast in prison for a time. But that time soon passes, +and their poor life is again resumed. But the disabled are not the only +suffering unfortunates in the netherworld who, needing our pity, receive +the tender mercies of prison. For there epileptics abide or roam in +all the horror of their lives "oft-times in water and oft-times in +the fire," a burden to themselves, a danger to others. Shut out from +industrial life and shut out from social life. Refused lodgings here +and refused lodgings there. Sometimes anticipating fits, sometimes +recovering from fits; sometimes in a semi-conscious state, sometimes in +a state of madness. Never knowing what may happen to them, never knowing +what they may do to others. Always suffering, always hopeless! Treated +as criminals till their deeds are fatal, then certified to be "criminal +lunatics." Such is the life of the underworld epileptic. Life, did I +call it?--let me withdraw that word; it is the awful, protracted agony +of a living death, in which sanity struggles with madness, rending and +wounding a poor human frame. Happy are they when they die young! but +even epileptics live on and on; but while they live we consign them to +the underworld, where their pitiful cry of "Woe! woe!" resounds. + +Do not say this is an exaggeration, for it is less than truth, not +beyond it. Poe himself, with all his imagination and power, could not do +full justice to this matter. + +Mendicity societies in their report tell of cunning rascals who impose +on the public by simulating "fits"; they tell of the "king of fits," the +"soap fits king," and others. They point with some satisfaction to the +convictions of these clever rogues, and claim some credit in detecting +them. + +Their statements are true! But why are they true? Because real +epileptics are so common in the underworld, and their sufferings so +palpable and striking, that parasites, even though afflicted themselves, +nay, because of their own disabilities, can and do simulate the weird +sufferings of epileptics. Will mendicity societies, when they tell us +about, enumerate for us, and convict for us the hoary impostors, also +tell us about and enumerate for us the stricken men and women who are +not impostors, and whose fits are unfortunately genuine? + +If some society will do this, they will do a great public service; +but at present no one does it, so this world of suffering, mystery and +danger remains unexplored. + +I do not wonder that the ancients thought that epileptics suffered from +demoniacal possessions; perhaps they do, perhaps we believe so still. +At any rate we deal with them in pretty much the same way as in days +of old. The ancients bound them with chains; we are not greatly +different--we put them in prison. The ancients did allow their +epileptics to live in the tombs, but we allow them no place but prison, +unless their friends have money! + +But let me end the subject by stating that the non-provision for +epileptics is a national disgrace and a national danger. That +incarceration of epileptics in prison and their conviction as criminals +is unjust and cruel. That it is utterly impossible for philanthropy to +restrain, detain and care for epileptics. That the State itself must see +to the matter! + +But just another word: epileptics marry! Imagine if you can the life of +a woman married to an epileptic. + +Epileptics have children of a sort! Can you imagine what they are likely +to be? You cannot! Well, then, I will tell you. Irresponsible beings, +with abnormal passions, but with little sense of truth and honour, with +no desire for continuous labour, but possessed of great cunning. The +girls probably immoral, the boys feckless and drunken. + +We have to pay for our neglect; we have no pity upon epileptics. He and +his children have no pity for us! + + + +CHAPTER VII. WOMEN IN THE UNDERWORLD + +The women of the underworld may be divided into three great classes. +Those who by reason of their habits or mental peculiarities prefer to +live homeless lives. Secondly, those whom misfortune has deprived of +settled home life. Thirdly, those who, having settled homes, live at +starvation point. + +In London there is a great number of each class. With class one I shall +deal briefly, for they do not form a pleasant theme. The best place to +study these wild homeless women is Holloway Prison, for here you will +find them by the hundreds any day you please. In Holloway Prison during +one year 933 women who had been in that gaol more than ten times were +again received into it. + +I am privileged sometimes to address them. As I write I see them sitting +before me. After one of my addresses I was speaking to one of the +wardresses about their repeated convictions, when the wardress said-- + +"Oh, sir, we are glad to see them come back again, for we know that they +are far better off with us than they are at liberty. They go out clean +and tidy with very much better health than they came in. It seems cruel +to let them out, to live again in dirt and misery, and though we have an +unpleasant duty to perform in cleansing them when they return, we feel +some comfort in the thought that for a short time they will be cared +for. Why, sir, it is prison and prison alone that keeps them alive." + +Now this army of women is a dolorous army in all truth, for their faces, +their figures are alike strange and repulsive, and many of them seem +to be clothed with the cerements of moral and spiritual death. They are +frequently charged with drunkenness, stealing, begging, or sleeping out. + +Their names appear on the "Black List," for the law says they are +"habitual inebriates," yet drink has little or nothing to do with their +actual condition. + +Let any one look them in the face as I have looked them in the face, +study their photographs as I have studied them, and I venture to affirm +that they will say with me, "These women are not responsible beings." +For years I have been drumming this fact into the ears of the public, +and at length the authorities acknowledged it, for in 1907 the Home +Office Inspector issued a report on inebriate reformatories, and gave +the following account of those who had been in such institutions: 2,277 +had been treated in reformatories; of these he says 51 were insane +and sent to lunatic asylums, 315 others were pronounced defectives or +imbeciles. Altogether he tells us that 62 out of every hundred were +irresponsible women and unfit for social and industrial life. + +My many years' experience of London's underworld confirms the testimony +of the Home Office, for I am persuaded that a very large proportion +of homeless women on our streets are homeless because they are quite +unfitted for, and have no desire for decent social life. + +Should I be asked about the birth and parentage of these women, I reply +that they come from all classes. Born of tramps and of decent citizens, +born in the slums and sometimes in villas, almost every rank and station +contributes its quota to this class of wild, hopeless women. + +But I pass on to the second class, those who by misfortune have become +submerged. This, too, is a large class, and a class more worthy of +sympathy and consideration than the others, for amongst them, in spite +of misfortune and poverty, there is a great deal of womanliness and +self-respect. Misfortune, ill-health, sorrow, loss of money, position or +friends, circumstances over which they have had but little or no control +have condemned them to live in the underworld. Such women present a +pitiful sight and a difficult problem. They cling to the relics of their +respectability with a passionate devotion, and they wait, hope, starve +and despair. + +Often misfortune has come upon them when the days of youth were passed, +and they found themselves in middle age faced with the grim necessity of +earning a living. I have seen many of them struggle with difficulty, and +exhibit rare courage and patience; I have watched them grow older and +feebler. Sometimes I have provided glasses that their old eyes might be +strengthened for a little needlework, but I have always known that it +was only helping to defer the evil day, when they would no longer be +able to pay the rent for a little room in a very poor neighbourhood. My +mind is charged with the memory of women who have passed through this +experience, who from comfortable homes have descended to the underworld +to wander with tired feet, weary bodies and hopeless hearts till they +lie down somewhere and their wanderings cease for ever. + +But before we consider these women, let us take a peep at the lower +depths. Come, then! Now we are in a charnel house, for we are down +among the drunken women, the dissolute women that stew and writhe in the +underworld, for whom there is no balm in Gilead and no physician. Now we +realise what moral death means. + +Like the horde of Comus they lie prone, and wallow in their impurity. +Hot as the atmosphere is, feverish though their defiled bodies be, +they call for no friendly hand to give them water to cool their parched +throats. The very suggestion of water makes them sick and faint. + +But a great cry smites us: "Give us drink! and we will forget our +misery; give us drink, and we will sing and dance before you! give us +drink, and you may have us body and soul! Drink! drink!" A passionate, +yearning, importunate cry everlastingly comes from them for drink. + +Now with Dante we are walking in Hell; see, there is a form, half human +and half animal, creeping towards us with lewd look and suggestion. +Yonder is an old hag fearful to look upon. Here a group of cast-off +wives, whom the law has allowed outraged husbands to consign to this +perdition; but who, when sober enough, come back to the upperworld and +drag others down to share their fate. + +Does any one want to know what becomes of the wives who, having +developed a love of drink, have been separated from their husbands, and +cast homeless into the streets? Here in this circle of Hell you may find +them, consigned to a moral death from which there is no resurrection. + +And the idle, the vicious, the lustful and the criminal are here too. +But we leave them, and get back to the everlasting workers, the +sober and virtuous women of whom I have told. What a contrast is here +presented! Drunkenness, vice, bestiality and crime! Virtue, industry, +honesty and self-respect condemned to live together! But let us look and +listen; we hear a voice speaking to us-- + +"Dear Mr. Holmes, I am deeply interested in your work, and feel one with +you in mind and heart in the different troubles of human life, and of +their causes and consequences. I feel that if only my health was better, +and I was placed in some other sphere of life, that I would do something +to help on your good work. But, alas! I shall never be strong again; +the hard grinding for a miserable pittance gives me no chance to get +nourishing food and recover my strength. Some people say to me, 'Why +don't you go into the workhouse or the infirmary?' This I bear in +silence, but it is simply killing me in a slow way. Oh! that it should +take so long to kill some of us. It makes me sad to think that so many +lives are wrecked in this way, that so many are driven to wrong, that +so many others should drift away into lives of hopelessness. I have been +stripped of all, and I am waiting for the worst." + +Can any language beat that for lucidity and pathos? My readers will, I +am sure, recognise that those are the words of an educated woman. Yes, +her education was begun in England and finished on the Continent. Were I +to mention the name of the writer's mother, hearts would leap, for that +name lives in story and song. + +But her parents died and left no competence, her health failed, and +teaching became impossible. All she now requires is an out-patient's +ticket for a chest hospital. + +She is a "trouser finisher," and earns one penny per hour; sometimes +she lies on her bed while at work. But by and by she will not be able to +earn her penny per hour; then there will be "homelessness," but not the +workhouse for her. + +But the voice speaks again: "Dear Mr. Holmes, please excuse me not +thanking you sooner for offering me a hospital letter. I shall, indeed, +be very grateful for one when able to get about, for I shall need +something to set me up a bit. + +"At present I am very sadly indeed; my foot seems very much better, yet +not right, the sister thinks. To make matters worse, I have a very bad +gathered finger, and this week I have not been able to do a stitch of +work; indeed, it is very little that I have been able to do this last +ten weeks. Oh, the cruel oppression of taking advantage and putting +extra work for less pay, because I cannot get out to fetch it myself! + +"The most I get is a penny per hour; it is generally less. Sister Grace +was so vexed by the rude message he sent to-day while she was here, +because I could not do the work, that she sent a letter to him telling +him the fact of my suffering. She thinks I am in a very bad state +through insufficient food, and, Mr. Holmes, it is true! for no one but +God and myself really know how I have existed. I rarely know what it is +to get a proper meal, for often I do not expend a sixpence on food in a +week when I pay my way, and thank God I have been able to do this up to +the present somehow or other; but all my treasures are gone, and I look +round and wonder what next! + +"My eyes rest on my dear old violin, which is a memory of the past, +although long silent. It has been a great grief to me the parting with +one thing after another, but I go on hoping for better days that I may +regain them; alas! many are now beyond recall. + +"The parish doctor has been suggested again, but I feel I would +rather die than submit, after all this long struggle and holding out, +especially, as I have been able to keep things a little near the mark; +when they get beyond me, rather than debt I must give in! + +"Still, I hope for better days, and trust things will brighten for me +and others, for God knows there are many silent sufferers ebbing their +lives away, plodding and struggling with life's battle. My heart bleeds +for them, yet I am powerless to help them or myself." + +Time and space do not avail, or I could tell story after story of such +lives, for in the underworld they are numerous enough. Who can wonder +that some of them "are made bitter by misfortune"? Who can wonder that +others "are driven to wrong"? Who can be surprised that "many drift +into lives of hopeless uselessness"? Surely our friend knew what she was +talking about, in the underworld though she be. She sees that there are +deeps below the depths, that she herself is in. Though ill, starving and +hopeless about her own future, she is troubled for others, for she adds, +"since I have known the horror of this life, my heart goes out to others +that are enduring it." + +Now this class of woman is not much in evidence till the final +catastrophe comes, when the doors of a one-roomed home are closed +against them. Even then they do not obtrude themselves on our +observation, for they hide themselves away till the river or canal gives +up its dead. + +But it is not every woman that maintains such a high tone, for once in +the underworld the difficulty of personal cleanliness confronts them, +and dirt kills self-respect. Poverty makes them acquainted with both +physical and moral dirt, and the effect of one night in a shelter or +lodging-house is often sufficient to destroy self-respect and personal +cleanliness for life. + +I am quite sure that I am voicing the opinion of all who have knowledge +of the underworld in which such women are compelled to live, when I say +that the great want in London and in all our large towns is suitable +and well-managed lodging-houses under municipal control and inspection, +where absolute cleanliness and decency can be assured. Lodging-houses to +which women in their hour of sore need may turn with the certainty +that their self-respect will not be destroyed. But under the present +conditions decent women have no chance of retaining their decency or +recovering their standing in social life. + +Listen again! a widowed tooth-brush maker speaks to us: "Dear Mr. +Holmes, I feel that I must thank you for still allowing me a pension, +and I do thank you so much in increasing it. When I received it my heart +was so full of joy that I could not speak. My little boys are growing, +and they require more than when my husband died six years ago. I am sure +it has been a great struggle, but I have found such a great help in you, +I do not know how to thank you for all that you have done for me and +many poor workers. + +"I do hope that God will still give you health and strength to carry +on the good work which you are doing for us. When I last spoke to you I +thought my little boys were much better, but I am sorry to say that when +I took them to Great Ormond Street Hospital, they said they were both +suffering from heart disease, and I was to keep them from school for a +time; and they also suffer from rheumatics. They are to get out all they +can. I have been taking them to the hospital for over two years, and +sometimes I feel downhearted, as I had hoped they would have improved +before this. + +"The eldest boy does not have fits now, and this I am thankful for. But +I feel that I am wasting a lot of your time reading this letter, so I +must thank you very much for all your great goodness to me." + +But one of the boys is now dead, to the other "fits" have returned, and +the widow still sits, sits and sits at her tooth-brushes in poverty and +hunger. + +Listen to an old maid's story; she is a shoe machinist: "Yes, sir, I +have kept them for six years, and I hope to keep them till they can keep +themselves, and then perhaps they will help to keep me." + +The speaker was a worn and feeble woman of fifty-five years, at least +that was the age she gave me, and most certainly she did not look less. +We were talking about her two boys, her nephews, whose respective ages +were eleven and thirteen. + +"Both their parents died six years ago; their father was my only +brother, and their mother had neither brothers nor sisters! Of course I +took them; what else could I do? What! Send them to the workhouse? Not +while I can work for them. Ah, sir! you were only joking!" In this she +was partly right, for I had merely offered the suggestion in order to +draw her out. + +"So after the double funeral they came to live with you?" "Yes." "Did +their parents leave any money?" "Money, no! How can poor people leave +any money? their club money paid for the funeral and the doctor's bill." +"So they owed nothing?" "Not a penny; if they had, I should have paid it +somehow." + +And doubtless she would, though how, it passes my wit to conceive. But +there, it would have meant only a few more hours' work daily for the +brave old spinster, but not for the boys, for they would have been fed +while she fasted, they would have slept while she worked. + +"Yes," she continued, "I am a boot machinist, and it is pretty hard +work; we had a tough time when I had to pay two shillings weekly for +that machine, but we managed, and now you see it is paid for, it is my +own; but really, times are harder for us. The boys are growing and want +more food and clothing; they go to school, and must have boots; it's the +boots that floor me, they cost a lot of money." + +I called the boys to me and examined their boots; their old aunt looked +as if she was going to prevent me, but presently she said, "I had no +work last week, or I should have got him a pair." "Him" was the younger +boy, whose boots, or the remains of them, presented a deplorable +appearance; and, truth to tell, the elder boy's were not much better. So +I said to the brave old soul, "Look here, I will give these boys a good +new pair of boots each on one condition!" "What is that." "That you +allow me to buy you a pair." Again there was a look of resentment, but +I continued, "I am quite sure that you require boots as badly as +your boys, and I cannot think of them having nice boots and you going +without, so I want you to all start equal; kindly put out your foot +and let me look." In a shamefaced sort of a way she put her left foot +forward; a strange, misshapen, dilapidated apology of a boot covered the +left foot. "Now the right," I said. "Never mind looking at the other, it +does not matter, does it?" she said. "Yes, it does," so the right foot +was presented; one glance was enough! "That will do; come along for +three pairs of boots." + +They returned home, the boys rejoicing in their new boots, and their +feeble old aunt tolerating hers for the sake of her boys. Dear, brave, +self-denying, indomitable old maid. She had visited the fatherless in +their afflictions, she had toiled unceasingly for six long years, she +had taken willingly upon her weak shoulders a heavy burden; a burden +that, alas! many strong men are only too willing to cast upon others. +She had well earned her pair of boots, and sincerely do I hope that +when her poor feet get accustomed to their circumscribed area, and the +pressure of well-made boots has become comforting, that she will derive +pleasure from them, even though they represent "the first charity that I +have ever received." + +But is it not wonderful, this marvellous self-denial of the very poor! +Other spheres of life doubtless produce many noble lives and heroic +characters, but was ever a braver deed done than this feeble and weary +old maid did? + +And it was all so natural, so commonplace, so very matter-of-fact, for +when I spoke warmly of her deed she said very simply, "Well, what else +could I do!" + +And in the underworld, amidst the dirt and squalor, the poverty, the +high rents, and the poor, poor earnings of poor, poor women, there are +plenty like her. + +God grant that when the lads can work they will lighten her burdens and +cheer her heart by working for her who had worked so hard for them. + +Listen also to the story of the blouse-makers disclosed to the upper +world by the Press. + +"A pathetic story of poverty was told to the Hackney coroner, who held +an inquiry into the death of Emily Langes, 59, a blouse-maker of Graham +Road, Dalston. Death was due to starvation. + +"Annie Marie, an aged sister, said they had both been in great poverty +for a very long time. They had worked at blouse-making as long as they +could, but that work had fallen off so much that really all they had got +to live on was by selling off their home. + +"They had not enough to live on, and had to pay four shillings and +sixpence rent. + +"The coroner: 'Selling your home will soon come to an end. You had best +apply in the proper direction for help; the parish must bury her. Don't +go on ruining yourself by selling off things.' + +"Mr. Ingham, relieving officer for the No. 7 ward at Hackney, said that +he knew the old couple. He remembered giving relief to both sisters +about two months ago, but had had no application since. He offered the +'House' to the living sister. + +"A juror: 'Are questions put which might upset a proud respectable old +couple when they ask for relief?' + +"Witness: 'Of course we have to inquire into their means pretty +closely.' + +"The coroner: 'It seems pretty clear that the old couple were too proud +to ask for help.' + +"The jury returned a verdict that Emily Langes died from exhaustion +caused by want of food." + +But listen again! as we stand in the land of crushed womanhood and +starving childhood. We hear a gentle voice, "Mother, it is nearly one +o'clock, the men have gone by from the public-house; you go to bed, +dear, and I will finish the work." A feeble woman, with every nerve +broken, rises from her machine, shakes her dress and lies down on her +bed, but her daughter sits on and on. + +Oh the sighs and groans and accents of sorrow that come upon our +listening ears! Oh the weariness, the utter weariness of this land below +the line! + +Midnight! and thousands of women are working! One o'clock, and thousands +are still at it! Two o'clock, the widows are still at work! Thank God +the children are asleep. Three o'clock a.m., the machines cease to +rattle, and in the land of crushed womanhood there is silence if not +peace. But who is to pay? Shall we ultimately evolve a people that +require no sleep, that cannot sleep if they would? Is crushed womanhood +to produce human automatic machines? Or is civilisation generally to pay +the penalty for all this grinding of human flesh and blood? Let me tell +the story of an old machinist! I have told part of it before, but the +sequel must be told. I had made the acquaintance and friendship of three +old women in Bethnal Green who lived together, and collaborated in their +work. They made trousers for export trade; one machined, one finished, +and one pressed, brave old women all! They all worked in the machinist's +room, for this saved gas and coal, and prevented loss of time. At night +they separated, each going to her own room. The machinist was a widow, +and her machine had been bought out of her husband's club and insurance +money when he died twenty-one years before. I had often seen it, heard +its rattle, and witnessed its whims. + +She once told me that it required a new shuttle, and I offered to pay +for one; but she said, "I cannot part with it; it will last my time, for +I want a new shuttle too!" + +Six months after she was found dead in her bed by her partners when they +came to resume work. + +Her words had come true! The old machine stood silent under the little +window; its old shuttle no longer whirred and rattled with uncertain +movements. It was motionless and cold. On a little bed the poor old +brave woman lay cold and motionless too! for the shuttle of her life had +stopped, never to move again. + +The heroic partnership of the old women was broken, never in this world +to be resumed, and so two old hearts sorrowed and two troubled minds +wondered how they would be able to live without her. + +I knew her well; it was my privilege to give her some happiness and some +change from grime and gloom, to take her away sometimes from the wayward +shuttle and rattling machine. I knew that she would have selected such +a death could she have chosen, for she dreaded the parish. I think, too, +that she would have wished for her old machine to be buried with her, +and for its silent shuttle to be beside her in her coffin. To her it was +a companion, and for it her husband died. Twenty-one years the machine +and herself had lived with each other and for each other. Sharing +with each other's toil, if not each other's hopes and fears! Working! +working! unceasingly through life--in death and rest they were not +divided. + +It was a blessed thing that her machine partner required no food, or +life would have been even more serious than it was. But it had its +whims and its moods, sometimes it resented everlasting work at +three-half-pence per hour for the pair of them, and it "jibbed." But a +little oil and a soothing word, and, it must be feared, sometimes with a +threat, and the old thing went again. + +Surely it will be sacrilege for any one else to sit upon that old chair +and try to renew the life and motion of the old machine! + +It is strange that this oppression of women which is the cause of my +greatest sorrow should also be the cause of my keenest joy. But it is +so! And why? Because I number two thousand of these underworld women +slaves among my personal friends, and I am proud of it! The letters I +have given are a few out of hundreds that I have received. I know these +women as few know them. I know their sufferings and their virtues, their +great content and their little requirements. I know that they have the +same capabilities for happiness as other people, and I know that they +get precious little chance of exercising those capabilities. Strange +again, I get no begging letters from them, though I do from others who +are better placed. I declare it to be wonderful! This endurance and +patience of London's miserably paid women. I tell you that I am the +happiest man alive! Why? Because during the present year a thousand +of my poor friends from the underworld came up for a time and had a +fortnight, a whole fortnight's rest each with food and comfort in a +beautiful rest home by the sea. For kind friends have enabled me to +build one for them and for them alone! + +And I was there sometimes to see, and it was good for me. So Mrs. Holmes +and myself make frequent visits to the rest home, and every time we +visit it we become more and more convinced that not only is it a "Palace +Beautiful," but that it is also a joy to the slave women who have the +good fortune to spend a holiday (all too short) in it. + +Gloom cannot enter "Singholm" or, if it does enter, it promptly and +absolutely disappears. Ill-temper cannot live there, the very flowers +smile it away. The atmosphere itself acts like "laughing gas." So the +house fairly rings with merry laughter from elderly staid women equally +as from the younger ones, whose contact with serious and saddening life +has not been so paralysing to joyous emotions. + +It did us good to hear such jolly laughter from throats and organs that, +but for Singholm, must have rusted and decayed. + +One of our trustees was with us, it being his first visit to the home. +I know that he was surprised at the size, the beauty, the comfort and +refinement of the whole place. The garden filled him with delight, +the skill of the architect in planning the building, together with the +style, gave him increased pleasure. + +The great drawing-room and the equally large dining-room rather +astonished him. The little bedrooms he declared perfect. But what +astonished him most of all was the unaffected happiness of the women; +for this I do not think he was prepared. Well, as I have said, +gloom cannot live in Singholm, and this I have found out by personal +experience, for if I am quite cross and grumpy in London, I cannot +resist the exhilaration that prevails at Singholm among London's +underworld women. + +I think I may say that our trustee was surprised at something else! But +then he is a bachelor, and so of course does not understand the infinite +resources of femininity. + +"How nice they look," he said. "How well they dress"; and, once again, +"How clean and tidy they are; how well their colours blend!" + +Thank God for this! we hold no truce with dirt at Singholm; we bid +dowdyism begone! avaunt! I will tell you a secret! Singholm demands +respect for itself and self-respect for its inmates. + +Our trustee's testimony is true; the women belonging to our association +do look nice; when they are at Walton they rise to the occasion as if +they were to the manner born. + +When, with their cheap white or blue blouses, they sit under the palms +in our drawing-room, all, even the oldest and poorest, neat--nay, smart +if you will--they present a picture that can only be appreciated by +those who know their lives. Some people might find fault, but to me the +colour and tone of the picture is perfect. + +As there were seventy of them, there was room for variety, and they gave +it! Look at them! There they sit as the shades of night are falling. +They have been out all day long, and have come in tired. Are they +peevish? Not a bit! Are they downhearted? No! + +There is my friend who makes no secret about it, and tells us that she +is forty-six years of age; this is the first time she has ever seen the +sea, and she laughs at the thought. The sun has browned, reddened and +roughened her face, and when I say, "How delicate you look," she bursts +again into merry laughter, and the whole party join her. Mrs. Holmes and +myself join in, and our worthy trustee, bachelor and Quaker though he +be, laughs merriest of all. + +Aye! but this laughter was sweet music, but somehow it brought tears to +my eyes. + +Now just look at my friend over there beside one of the palms, her +feet resting so naturally on the Turkey carpet! You observe she sits +majestically in a commodious chair; she needs one! For she is five +feet eleven inches in height, and weighs sixteen stone. I call her "The +Queen," for when she stands up she is erect and queenly with a noble +head and pleasing countenance. + +She makes no secret about her age; "I am sixty, and I have been here +four times, and, please God, I'll come forty-four more times," and she +looks like it. But what if there had been no Singholm to look forward to +year by year? Why, then she would have been heavy in heart as well as in +body, and her erect form would have been bent, for she is a hard worker +from Bethnal Green. + +The idea of coming forty-four more times to Singholm, and she sixty-six, +was the signal for more laughter, and again Singholm was tested; but our +builder had done his work well. + +"Turn on the electric light, matron!" There is a transformation scene +for you! Now you see the delicate art colours in the Turkey carpets, and +the subdued colours in the Medici Society's reproduced pictures. + +See how they have ranged their chairs all round by the walls, and the +centre of the room is unoccupied, saving here and there maidenhair ferns +and growing flowers. Now look at the picture in its fulness! and we see +poor old bent and feeble bodies bowed with toil, and faces furrowed by +unceasing anxiety; but the sun, the east wind, the sea air and Singholm +have brightened and browned them. + +There is my poor old friend, long past threescore and ten, to whom +Singholm for a time is verily Heaven; but--"Turn on the gramophone, +please, matron." Thanks to a kind friend, we have a really good one, +with a plentiful supply of records. The matron, in the wickedness of +her heart, turns on an orchestral "cakewalk." The band plays, old bodies +begin to move and sway, and seventy pair of feet begin unconsciously to +beat the floor. Laughter again resounds; our Quaker himself enters into +the spirit of it, so I invite him to lead off with the "Queen" for his +partner, at which he was dismayed, although he is a veritable son of +Anak. + +But to my dismay the bent and feeble septuagenarian offered to lead off +with myself as partner, at which I collapsed, for alas, I cannot +dance. Then our trustee led the roars of laughter that testified to my +discomfiture. + +So we had no dancing, only a cakewalk. But we had more merriment and +music, and then our little evening service. "What hymn shall we have?" +Many voices called out, "Sun of my soul," so the matron went to the +piano, and I listened while they sang "Watch by the sick, enrich the +poor," which for me, whenever the poor, the feeble and aged sing it, +has a power and a meaning that I never realise when the organ leads a +well-trained choir and a respectable church congregation to blend their +voices. + +Then I read to them a few words from the old, but ever new, Book, and +closed with a few simple, well-known prayers, and then--as old Pepys has +it--"to bed." + +We watch them file up the great staircase one by one, watch them +disappear into their sweet little rooms and clean sheets. To me, at any +rate, the picture was more comforting and suggestive than Burne Jones's +"Golden Stairs." In fifteen minutes the electric light was switched off, +and Singholm was in darkness and in peace. But outside the stars were +shining, the flowers still blooming, the garden was full of the mystery +of sweet odours; close by the sea was singing its soothing lullaby, and +God was over all! + +But let us get back to the underworld! + +"How long have we lived together, did you ask? well, ever since we were +born, and she is sixty-seven," pointing to a paralysed woman, who was +sitting in front of the window. "I am two years younger," she continued, +"and we have never been separated; we have lived together, worked +together, and slept together, and if ever we did have a holiday, we +spent it together. And now we are getting old, just think of it! I am +sixty-five, isn't it terrible? They always used to call us 'the girls' +when mother, father and my brothers were alive, but they have all +gone--not one of them left. But we 'girls' are left, and now we are +getting old--sixty-five--isn't it terrible? We ought to be ashamed of +it, I suppose, but we are not, are we, dear? For we are just 'the girls' +to each other, and sometimes I feel as strong and as young as a girl." + +"How long have you lived in the top of this four-storey house?" I asked. +"Sixteen years," came the reply. "All alone?" "No, sir, we have been +together." "And your sister, how long has she been paralysed?" "Before +we came to this house." "Does she ever go out?" "Of course she does; +don't I take her out in the bath-chair behind you?" "Can she wash and +dress herself, do her hair, and make herself as clean and tidy as she +is?" "I do it for her." + +"But how do you get her down these interminable stairs?" I asked. + +"She does that herself, sitting down and going from step to step," she +said, and then added, "but it is hard work for her, and it takes her a +very long time." + +"Now tell me," I said, "have you ever had a holiday?" "Yes, we have had +one since my sister became paralysed, and we went to Herne Bay." "Did +you take the bath-chair with you?" "Of course we did; how could she go +without it?" "And you pushed her about Herne Bay, and took her on the +sands in it?" I said. "Of course," she said quite naturally, as if she +was surprised at my question. "Now tell me how much rent do you pay for +these two rooms?" "Seven shillings and sixpence per week; I know it is +too much, but I must have a good window for her, where she can sit and +look out." "How do you do your washing?" "I pay the landlady a shilling +a week to do it." "How long have you worked at umbrella covering?" "Ever +since we left school, both of us; we have never done anything else." +"How long have your parents been dead" "More than forty years," was the +answer. + +To every one of the replies made by the younger sister, the paralytic +at the window nodded her head in confirmation as though she would say, +"Quite true, quite true!" + +"Forgive me asking so many questions, but I want to understand how you +live; you pay seven-and-six rent, and one shilling for washing every +week; that comes to eight shillings and sixpence before you buy food, +coal, and pay for gas; and you must burn a lot of gas, for I am sure +that you work till a very late hour," and the elder sister nodded her +head. "Yes, gas is a big item, but I manage it," and then the elder one +spoke. "Yes, she is a wonderful manager! a wonderful manager! she is +better than I ever was." "Well, dear, you managed well, you know you +did, and we saved some money then, didn't we!" + +"Ah! we did, but mine is all gone, and I can't work now; but you are a +good manager, better than I ever was." + +I looked at the aged and brave couple, and took stock of their old but +still good furniture that told its own story, and said, "You had two +accounts in the Post-Office Savings Bank, and when you both worked +you saved all you could?" "Yes, sir, we worked hard, and never wasted +anything." Again the sixty-seven old girl broke in: "But mine is all +gone, all gone, but she is a wonderful manager." "And mine is nearly all +gone, too," said the younger, "but I can work for both of us," and the +elder sister nodded her head as if she would say, "And she can, too!" I +looked at the dozen umbrellas before me, and said, "What do you get for +covering these?" "Ah! that's what's called, vulgarly speaking, a bit of +jam! they are gents' best umbrellas, and I shall get three shillings for +them. I got them out yesterday from the warehouse, after waiting there +for two hours. I shall work till twelve to-night and finish them by +midday to-morrow; they are my very best work." Three shillings for +a dozen! her very best work! and she finding machine and thread, and +waiting two hours at the factory! + +"Come," I said, "tell me what you earned last week, and how many hours +you worked?" "I earned ten shillings and sixpence; but don't ask me how +many hours I worked, for I don't know; I begin when it is light, because +that saves gas, and I work as long as I can, for I am strong and have +good health." "But," I said, "you paid eight shillings and sixpence for +rent and washing; that left you with two shillings. Does your sister +have anything from the parish?" I felt sorry that I had put the +question, for I got a proud "No, sir," followed by some tears from the +sixty-five-year-old "girl." Presently I said, "However do you spend +it?" "Didn't I tell you that I had saved some, and was drawing it? But +I manage, and get a bit of meat, too!" Again from the window came the +words, "She is a good manager." + +"What will you do when you have drawn all your savings?" "Oh! I shall +manage, and God is good," was all I could get. + +A brave, heroic soul, surely, dwells in that aged girl, for in her I +found no bitterness, no repining; nay, I found a sense of humour and +the capability of a hearty laugh as we talked on and on, for I was in +wonderland. + +When I rose to leave, she offered to accompany us--for a friend was with +me--downstairs to the door; I said, "No, don't come down, we will find +our way; stop and earn half-a-crown, and please remember that you are +sixty-five." "Hush!" she said, "the landlady will hear you; don't tell +anybody, isn't it awful? and we were called the girls," and she burst +into a merry laugh. During our conversation the paralysed sister had +several times assured me that she "would like to have a ride in a +motor-car." This I am afraid I cannot promise her, much as I would like +to do so; but the exact object of my visit was to make arrangements for +"the girls" to go to our home of rest for a whole fortnight. + +And they went, bath-chair as well. For sixteen long years they had not +seen the sea or listened to its mighty voice, but for a whole fortnight +they enjoyed its never-ending wonder and inhaled its glorious breath. +And the younger "girl" pushed the chair, and the older "girl" sat in it +the while they prattled, and talked and managed, till almost the days of +their real girlhood came back to them. Dull penury and sordid care were +banished for a whole fortnight and appetite came by eating. The older +"girl" said, "If I stop here much longer, I know I shall walk," and she +nearly managed it too, for when helped out of her chair, she first began +to stand, and then to progress a little step by step by holding on +to any friendly solid till she almost became a child again. But the +fortnight ended all too soon, and back to their upper room, the window +and the umbrellas they came, to live that fortnight over and over again, +and to count the days, weeks and months that are to elapse before once +again the two old girls and an old--so old--bath-chair will revel and +joy, eat and rest, prattle and laugh by the sea. + +But they have had their "motor ride," too! and the girls sat side by +side, and although it was winter time they enjoyed it, and they have a +new theme for prattle. + +I have since ascertained that the sum of ten shillings, and ten +shillings only, remained in the Post-Office Savings Bank to the credit +of the managing sister. + +But I have also learned something else quite as pitiful--it is this: the +allowance of coal during the winter months for these heroic souls +was one half-hundredweight per week, fifty-six lb., which cost them +eightpence-halfpenny. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. MARRIAGE IN THE UNDERWORLD + +Young folk marry and are given in marriage at a very early age in the +underworld. Their own personal poverty and thousands of warning examples +are not sufficient to deter them. Strange to say, their own parents +encourage them, and, more strange still, upperworld people of education +and experience lend a willing hand in what is at the best a deplorable +business. + +Under their conditions it is perhaps difficult to say what other +course can or ought to be taken, for their homes are like beehives, +and "swarming" time inevitably comes. That oftentimes comes when young +people of either sex are midway in their "teens." The cramped little +rooms or room that barely sufficed for the parents and small children +are altogether out of the question when the children become adolescent. +The income of the family is not sufficient to allow the parents, even +if they were desirous of doing so, taking larger premises with an extra +bedroom. Very few parents brace themselves to this endeavour, for it +means not only effort but expense. So the young folks swarm either to +lodgings, or to marriage, and the pretence of home life. + +Private lodgings for girls are dangerous and expensive, while public +lodgings for youths are probably a shade worse. So marriage it is, and +boys of nineteen unite with girls one or two years younger. + +I have no doubt that the future looks very rosy to the young couple +whose united earnings may amount to as much as thirty shillings weekly, +for it is an axiom of the poor that two can live cheaper than one. + +It is so easy to pay a deposit on a single room, and so easy, so very +easy, to purchase furniture on the hire system. Does not the youth give +his mother ten shillings weekly? Why not give it to a wife? Does not the +girl contribute to her mother's exchequer? Why may not she become a wife +and spend her own earnings? Both are heartily sick of their present home +life, any change must be for the better! So marriage it is! But they +have saved nothing, they are practically penniless beyond the current +week's wages. Never mind, they can get their wedding outfit on the pay +weekly rule, the parson will marry them for nothing. "Here's a church, +let's go in and get married." Christmas, Easter or Bank Holiday comes to +their aid, and they do it! and, heigho! for life's romance. + +The happy bride continues at the factory, and brings her shillings to +make up the thirty. They pay three shillings and sixpence weekly for +their room, one-and-six weekly for their household goods, two more +shillings weekly are required for their wedding clothes, that is all! +Have they not twenty-three shillings left! + +They knew that they could manage it! All goes merrily as a marriage +bell! Hurrah! They can afford a night or two a week at a music-hall; why +did they not get married before? how stupid they had been! + +But something happens, for the bride becomes a mother. Her wages cease, +and thirty shillings weekly for two is a very different matter to twenty +shillings for three! + +They had to engage an old woman for nurse for one week only. But +that cost seven shillings and sixpence. A number of other extras are +incurred, all to be paid out of his earnings. They have not completed +the hire purchase business; they have even added to that expense by +the purchase of a bassinet at one shilling weekly for thirty weeks. The +bassinet, however, serves one useful purpose, it saves the expense of a +cradle. + +In less than a fortnight the girl mother is again knocking at the +factory door. She wishes to become an "out-worker"; the manager, knowing +her to be a capable machinist, gives her work, and promises her a +constant supply. + +Now they are all right again! Are they? Why, she has no sewing-machine! +Stranded again! not a bit of it. The hire purchase again comes to her +help. Eighteenpence deposit is paid, a like weekly payment promised, +signed for and attended to; and lo! a sparkling new sewing-machine is +deposited in their one room. Let us take an inventory of their goods: +one iron bedstead, flock mattress, two pairs of sheets, two blankets and +a common counterpane, a deal chest of drawers, a deal table, two Windsor +chairs, a bassinet carriage, a sewing-machine, fire-shovel, fender and +poker, some few crocks, a looking-glass, a mouth-organ and a couple of +towels, some knives, forks and spoons, a tea-pot, tea-kettle, saucepan +and frying-pan. But I have been very liberal! They stand close together, +do those household goods; they crowd each other, and if one moves, it +jostles the other. The sewing-machine stands in front of the little +window, for it demands the light. It took some scheming to arrange this, +but husband and wife ultimately managed it. The bassinet stands close to +the machine, that the girl mother may push it gently when baby is cross, +and that she may reach the "soother" and replace it when it falls from +baby's mouth. + +Now she is settled down! off she goes! She starts on a life of toil, +compared to which slavery is light and pleasant. Oh, the romance of it; +work from morn till late at night. The babe practically unwashed, the +house becomes grimy, and the bed and bassinet nasty. The husband's wages +have not risen, though his expenses have; other children come and some +go; they get behind with their rent; an "ejectment order" is enforced. +The wretched refuse of the home is put on the street pavement, the door +is locked against them, and the wretched couple with their children +are on the pavement too! The only thing to survive the wreck is the +sewing-machine. The only thing that I know among the many things +supplied to the poor on the hire system that is the least bit likely to +stand the wear and tear is the machine. Doubtless the poor pay highly +for it; still it is comforting to know that in this one direction +the poor are supplied with good articles. And the poor respect their +machines, as the poor always respect things that are not shoddy. + +I have drawn no fancy picture, but one that holds true with regard to +thousands. Evils that I cannot enumerate and that imagination cannot +exaggerate wait upon and attend these unfortunate, nay, criminal +marriages; which very largely are the result of that one great +all-pervading cause--the housing of the poor. + +But in the underworld there are much worse kinds of married life than +the one I have pictured, for those young people did start life with +some income and some hopes. But what can be said about, and what +new condemnation can be passed upon, the marriage of feeble-minded, +feeble-bodied, homeless wanderers? United in the bonds of holy matrimony +by an eager clergy, and approved in this deplorable step by an all-wise +State, thousands of crazy, curious, wretched, penniless individuals, to +whom even the hire system is impossible, join their hopeless lives. + +Half idiots of both sexes in our workhouses look at each other, and then +take their discharge after a mutual understanding. They experience no +difficulty in finding clergymen ready to marry them and unite them in +the bonds of poverty and the gall of wretchedness. The blessing of the +Church is pronounced upon this coupling, and away they go! + +Over their lives and means of living I will draw a veil, for common +decency forbids me to speak, as common decency ought to have forbidden +their marriage. + +But down in the underworld, and very low down, too, are numberless +couples whose plight is perhaps worse, for they have at any rate known +the refined comfort of good homes, but remembrance only adds poignancy +to suffering and despair. + +Read the following story, and after condemnation upon condemnation has +been passed upon the thoughtless or wicked marriages of the poor, tell +me, if you will, what condemnation shall be passed upon the educated +when they, through marriage, drag down into this inferno innocent, +loving and pure women? + +It was Boxing Day in a London police-court. Twenty-five years have +passed, but that day is as fresh in my memory as though it were +yesterday. The prisoners' rooms were filled, the precincts of the court +were full, and a great crowd of witnesses and friends, or of the curious +public, were congregated in the street. + +Yesterday had been the great Christian festival, the celebration of the +birth of the Prince of Peace, when the bells had rang out the old story +"Peace on earth, good-will to men." To-day it looked as though Hell had +been holding carnival! + +Nearly one hundred prisoners had to come before the magistrate. I can +see them now! as one by one they passed before him, for time has not +dimmed the vivid picture of that procession. I remember their stories, +and think still of their cuts and wounds. Outside the court the day was +dull, and inside the light was bad and the air heavy with the fumes of +stale debauch and chloride of lime. And yesterday had been Christmas Day +in the metropolis of Christendom. + +Hours passed, and the kindly magistrate sat on apportioning punishment, +fitting the sentence as it were by instinct. At two o'clock he rose for +a short recess, a hasty luncheon, and then back to his task. + +At the end of the long procession came a smitten woman. Darkness and +fog now enveloped the court as the woman stood in the dock. Her age +was given as twenty-eight; her occupation pickle-making. First let me +picture that woman and then tell her story, for she represents a number +of women into whose forlorn faces I have looked and of whose hopeless +hearts I have an intimate knowledge. + +Some men have conquered evil habits, helped by the love of a pure +woman, without which they would have vainly struggled or have readily +succumbed. But while I know this, I think of the women who have fastened +the tendrils of their heart's affection round unworthy men, and have +married them, hoping, trusting and believing that their love and +influence would be powerful enough to win the men to sobriety and +virtue. Alas! how mistaken they have been! What they have endured! Of +such was this woman! There she stood, the embodiment of woe. A tall, +refined woman, her clothing poor and sparse, her head enveloped in +surgical bandages. + +In the darkness of the Christmas night she had leaped from the wall of a +canal bridge into the murky gloom, her head had struck the bank, and she +rolled into the thick, black water. + +It was near the basin of the Surrey Canal, and a watchman on duty had +pulled her out; she had been taken to a hospital and attended to. Late +in the afternoon the policeman brought her to the court, where a charge +of attempted suicide was brought against her. But little evidence was +taken, and the magistrate ordered a week's remand. In the cells I had a +few moments' conversation with her, but all I could get from her was the +pitiful moan, "Why didn't they let me die? why didn't they let me die?" + +In a week's time I saw her again; surgical bandages were gone, medical +attention and a week's food and rest had done something for her, but +still she was the personification of misery. + +I offered to take charge of her, and as she quietly promised not to +repeat the attempt, the magistrate kindly committed her to my care. +So we went to her room: it was a poor place, and many steps we climbed +before we entered it. High up as the room was, and small as were its +dimensions, she, out of the nine shillings she earned at the pickle +factory paid three and sixpence weekly for it. I had gathered from what +she had told me that she was in poverty and distress. So on our way I +brought a few provisions; leaving these and a little money with her, I +left her promising to see her again after a few days. But before leaving +she briefly told me her story, a sad, sad story, but a story to be read +and pondered. + +She was the only daughter of a City merchant, and had one brother. While +she was quite a child her mother died, and at an early age she managed +her father's household. She made the acquaintance of a clever and +accomplished man who was an accountant. He was older than she, and +of dissipated habits. Her father had introduced him to his home and +daughter, little thinking of the consequences that ensued. She had no +mother to guide her, she was often lonely, for her father was immersed +in his business. + +In a very short time she had fixed her heart on to the man, and when +too late her father expostulated, and finally forbade the man the house. +This only intensified her love and led to quarrels with her father. +Ultimately they married, and had a good home and two servants. In a +little over three years two children added to her joys and sorrows. +Still her husband's faults were not amended, but his dissipation +increased. Monetary difficulties followed, and to avoid disgrace her +father was called upon to provide a large sum of money. + +This did not add to his sympathy, but it estranged the father and child. + +Then difficulties followed, and soon her husband stood in the dock +charged with embezzlement. Eighteen months' imprisonment was awarded +him, but the greater punishment fell upon the suffering wife. Her father +refused to see her, so with her two little ones she was left to face the +future. Parting with most of her furniture, jewellery, servant, she gave +up her house, took two small rooms, and waited wearily for the eighteen +months to pass. + +They passed, and her husband came back to her. But his character was +gone, the difficulty of finding employment stared him in the face. + +He joined the ranks of the shabby-genteel to live somehow by bits of +honest work, mixed with a great deal of dishonest work. Four years of +this life, two more children for the mother, increasing drunkenness, +degenerating into brutality on her husband's part. Her father's death +and some little money left to her gave momentary respite. But the money +soon went. Her brother had taken the greater portion and had gone into +a far country. This was the condition of affairs when her husband was +again arrested; this time for forgery. There was no doubt about his +guilt, and a sentence of five years' penal servitude followed. Again she +parted with most of her home, reducing it to one room. + +With her four children round her she tried to eke out an existence. She +soon became penniless, and ultimately with her children took refuge in +a London workhouse. After a time the guardians sent the four children +to their country school and nursing home, when she was free to leave the +workhouse and get her own living. + +She came out with a letter of introduction to the pickle factory, and +obtained employment at nine shillings a week. The weeks and months +passed, her daily task and common round being a mile walk to the +factory, ten hours' work, and then the return journey. One week-end on +her homeward journey she was attracted and excited by a fire; when she +resumed her journey she was penniless, her week's wages had been stolen +from her. Her only warm jacket and decent pair of boots then had to +be pawned, for the rent must be paid. Monday found her again at the +monotonous round, but with added hardships. + +She missed the jacket and the boots, and deprived herself of food +that she might save enough money wherewith to take them out of pawn. +Christmas Eve came, and she had not recovered them. She sat in her room +lonely and with a sad heart, but there was mirth and noise below her, +for even among the poor Bacchus must be worshipped at Christmas time. + +One of the women thought of the poor lone creature up at the top of the +house, and fetched her down. They had their bottles of cheap spirits, +for which they had paid into the publican's Christmas club. She drank, +and forgot her misery. Next morning, when the bells of a neighbouring +church were ringing out, they awoke her as she lay fully dressed on her +little bed. She felt ill and dazed, and by and by the consciousness came +to her of fast night's drinking. Christmas Day she spent alone, ill, +miserable and ashamed. "I must have been drunk!" she kept repeating to +herself, and on Christmas night she sought her death. + +I wrote to kind friends, and interested some ladies in her welfare. +Plenty of clothing was sent for her; a better room, not quite so +near the sky, was procured for her. Her daily walk to the factory was +stopped, for more profitable work was given to her. Finally I left her +in the hands of kind friends that I knew would care for her. + +Two years passed, and on Christmas Eve I called with a present and a +note sent her by a friend. She was gone--her husband had been released +on ticket-of-leave, had found her and joined her, and for a time she +kept him as well as herself. He was more brutal than before, and in his +fury, either drunk or sober, he frequently beat her, so that the people +of the house had to send them away. Where they had moved to, I failed to +find out, but they had vanished! + +Fourteen months passed, and one bitterly cold day in February at the +end of a long row of prisoners, waiting their turn to appear before +the magistrate, stood the woman wretched and ill, with a puling bit of +mortality in her arms. + +She was a "day charge," having been arrested for stealing a pot of +condensed milk. At length she stood before the magistrate, and the +evidence was given that she was seen to take the milk and hurry away. +She was arrested with the milk on her. + +It was believed that she had taken milk from the same place at other +times. When asked what she had to say in extenuation, she held her child +up and said, "I did not take it for myself, I took it for this!" She did +not call it her child. The magistrate looked, shuddered, and sentenced +her to one day. + +So once again I stood face to face with her, and face to face with a big +man who had been waiting for her, who insolently asked me what I wanted +with his wife. I turned from him to the woman, and asked if she would +leave him, for if so I would provide for her. + +Mournfully she shook her head; leave him, no!--to the bitter end she +stood by him. + +So they passed from my view, the educated brute and the despairing, +battered, faithful drudge of a woman, to migrate from lodging-house to +lodging-house, to suffer and to die! + +If all the girls of England could see what I have seen, if they could +take, as I have taken, some measure of the keen anguish and sorrow that +comes from such a step, they would never try the dangerous experiment +of marrying a man in the hope of reforming him. Should, perchance, young +women read this story, let me tell them it is true in every particular, +but not the whole truth, for there are some things that cannot be told. + +Again and again I have heard poor stricken women cry: "How can you! how +can you!" More than once my manhood has been roused, and I have struck a +blow in their defence. + +If there is one piece of advice that, in the light of my experience, +I would like to burn into the very consciousness of young women, it is +this: if they have fastened their heart's love about a man, and find +that thorough respect does not go with that love, then, at whatever +cost, let them crush that love as they would crush a serpent's egg. + +And the same holds good with men: I have known men in moments of passion +marry young women, trusting that a good home and an assured income would +restore them to decency and womanhood--but in vain! I saw a foul-looking +woman far from old sent again to prison, where she had been more than +a hundred times. She had also served two years in an inebriate +reformatory. Fifteen years ago, when I first met her, she was +a fair-looking young woman. Needless to say, I met her in the +police-court. A short time afterwards she came to tell me that she was +married. She had a good home, her husband was in good circumstances, and +knew of her life. A few years of home life, two little children to +call her mother; then back to her sensual ways. Prisons, rescue homes, +workhouses, inebriate reformatories, all have failed to reclaim her, and +she lives to spread moral corruption. + + + +CHAPTER IX. BRAINS IN THE UNDERWORLD + +I hope that, in some of my chapters, I have made it clear that a large +proportion of the underworld people are industrious and persevering. +I want in this chapter to show that many of them have also ability and +brains, gifts and graces. This is a pleasant theme, and I would revel in +it, but for the sorrowful side of it. + +It may seem strange that people living under their conditions should +possess these qualities, but in reality there is nothing strange +about it, for Nature laughs at us, and bestows her gifts upon whom she +pleases, though I have no doubt that she works to law and order if we +only understood. + +But we do not understand, and therefore she appears whimsical and +capricious. I rather expect that even when eugenists get their way and +the human race is born to order, that Dame Nature, the mother of us all, +will not consent to be left out of the reckoning. Be that as it may, it +is certain she bestows her personal gifts among the very poor equally +with the rich. She is a true socialist, and, like Santa Claus, she +visits the homes of the very poor and bestows gifts upon their children. + +Some of the most perfect ladies I have ever met have been uneducated +women living in poverty and gloom. I do not say the most beautiful, for +suffering and poverty are never beautiful. Neither can rings of care +beneath the eyes, and countless furrows upon the face be considered +beautiful. But, apart from this, I have found many personal graces +and the perfection of behaviour among some of the poorest. All this I +consider more wonderful than the possession of brains, though of brains +they are by no means deficient. + +Have you ever noticed how pretty the healthy children of the very poor +are? I am not speaking of unhealthy and feeble children, who are all too +numerous, but of the healthy; for, strange as it may appear, there are +many such, even in the underworld. Where do you find such beautiful +curly hair as they possess? in very few places! It is perfect in its +freedom, texture, colour and curl. Dame Nature has not forgotten +them! Where do you find prettier faces, more sparkling eyes and eager +expressions? Nowhere! And though their faces become prematurely old, +and their eyes become hard, still Dame Nature had not forgotten them at +birth; she, at any rate, had done her best for them. + +Search any families, bring out the hundreds of pretty children, and I +will bring hundreds of children from below the line that will compare +with them in beauty of body, face and hair. But they must be under four +years of age! No! no! the children of the upperworld have not a monopoly +of Dame Nature's gifts. + +And it is so with mental gifts and graces; the poor get a good share of +them, but the pity is they get so little chance of exercising them. +For many splendid qualities wither from disuse or perish from lack of +development. But some survive, as the following stories will prove. + +It was a hot day in June, and, in company with a friend who wished to +learn something about the lives of the very poor, I was visiting in the +worst quarters of East London. + +As we moved from house to house, the thick air within, and the dirt +within and without were almost too much for us. The box-like rooms, the +horrible backyards, the grime of the men, women and children, combined +with the filth in the streets and gutters, made us sick and faint. We +asked ourselves whether it was possible that anything decent, virtuous +or intelligent could live under such conditions? + +The "place" was dignified by the name of a street, although in reality +it was a blind alley, for a high wall closed one end of it. It was very +narrow, and while infants played in the unclean gutters, frowsy women +discussed domestic or more exciting matters with women on the opposite +side. + +They discussed us too as we passed, and audibly commented, though not +favourably, on our business. I had visited the street scores of times, +and consequently I was well known. Unfortunately my address was also +well known, for every little act of kindness that I ventured to do +in that street had been followed by a number of letters from jealous +non-recipients. + +I venture to say that from every house save one I had received begging +or unpleasant letters, for jealousy of each other's benefits was a +marked characteristic of that unclean street. As we entered the house +from which no letter had been received, we heard a woman call to her +neighbour, "They are going to see the old shoemaker." She was correct in +her surmise, and right glad we were to make the old man's acquaintance; +not that he was very old, but then fifty-nine in a London slum may +be considered old age. He sat in a Windsor arm-chair in a very small +kitchen; a window at his back revealed that abomination of desolation, a +Bethnal Green backyard. He sat as he had sat for years, bent and doubled +up, for some kind of paralysis had overtaken him. + +He had a fine head and a pointed beard, his thin and weak neck seemed +hardly able to bear its heavy burden. He was not overclean, and his +clothes were, to say the least, shabby. But there he sat, his wife at +work to maintain him. We stood, for there was no sitting room for us. +Grime, misery and poverty were in evidence. + +He told us that his forefathers were Huguenots, who fled from France +and settled as silk weavers in Spitalfields. He had been apprenticed to +boot- and shoe-making, his particular branch of work having been boots +and shoes for actresses and operatic singers. That formerly he had +earned good money, but the trade declined as he had grown older, and now +for some years he had been crippled and unable to work, and dependent +upon his wife, who was a machinist. + +There did not seem much room for imagination and poetry in his home and +life, but the following conversation took place-- + +"It is a very hard life for you sitting month after month on that chair, +unable to do anything!" "It is hard, I do not know what I should do if +I could not think." "Oh, you think, do you well, thinking is hard +work." "Not to me, it is my pleasure and occupation." "What do you think +about?" "All sorts of things, what I have read mostly." "What have you +read" "Everything that I could get hold of, novelists, poetry, history +and travel." "What novelist do you like best" The answer came prompt +and decisive: "Dickens," "Why?" "He loved the poor, he shows a greater +belief in humanity than Thackeray." "How do you prove that?" "Well, take +Thackeray's VANITY FAIR, it is clever and satirical, but there is only +one good character, and he was a fool; but in Dickens you come across +character after character that you can't help loving." + +"Which of his books do you like best?" "A TALE OF TWO CITIES." "Why?" +"Well, because the French Revolution always appeals to me, and secondly +because I think the best bit of writing in all his books is the +description of Sydney Carton's ride on the tumbrel to the guillotine." +"Have you ever read Carlyle's FRENCH REVOLUTION?" "No" "I will lend it +to you." "If you do, I will read it." + +"How about poetry, what poets do you like?" "The minor poets of two +hundred years ago, Herrick, Churchill, Shenstone and others." "Why do +you like them?" "They are so pretty, so easy to understand, you know +what they mean; they speak of beauty, and flowers and love, their +language is tuneful and sweet." Thus the grimy old shoemaker spoke, but +I continued: "What about the present-day poets?" Swift came the reply, +"We have got none." This was a staggerer, but I suggested: "What about +Kipling?" "Too slangy and Coarse!" "Austin?" "Don't ask me." "What of +Wordsworth, Tennyson and Browning?" "Well, Wordsworth is too prosy, you +have to read such a lot to get a little; Tennyson is a bit sickly +and too sentimental, I mean with washy sentiment; Browning I cannot +understand, he is too hard for me." + +"Now let us talk: about dramatists; you have read Shakespeare?" "Yes, +every play again and again." "Which do you like best?" "I like them all, +the historical and the imaginative; I have never seen one acted, but to +me King Lear is his masterpiece." + +So we left him doubled up in his chair, in his grime and poverty, +lighting up his poor one room with great creations, bearing his heavy +burdens, never repining, thinking great thoughts and re-enacting great +events, for his mind to him was a kingdom. + +The next day my friend sent a dozen well-selected books, but the old +shoemaker never sought or looked for any assistance. + +Only a few doors away we happened on a slum tragedy. We stood in a queer +little house of one room up and one down stairs. Let me picture +the scene! A widow was seated at her machine sewing white buckskin +children's boots. Time, five o'clock in the afternoon; she had sat there +for many hours, and would continue to sit till night was far advanced. + +Suddenly a girl of twelve burst in and threw herself into her mother's +arms, crying, "Oh, mother, mother, I have lost the scholarship! Oh, +mother, the French was too hard for me!" To our surprise the mother +seemed intensely relieved, and said, "Thank God for that!" + +But the girl wept! After a time we inquired, and found that the girl, +having passed the seventh standard at an elementary school, had been +attending a higher grade school, where she had been entered for a +competitive examination at a good class secondary school. If she +obtained it, the widow would have been compelled to sign an agreement +for the girl to remain at school for at least three years. But the widow +was practically starving, although working fourteen hours daily. Verily, +the conflict of duties forms the tragedy of everyday life. The widow was +saved by the advanced French; poor mother and poor girl! + +By and by the girl was comforted as we held the prospective of a bright +future before her, and got her to talk of her studies; she recited for +us a scene from AS YOU LIKE IT, and also Portia's speech, "The quality +of mercy is not strained." + +Standing near was a boy of not more than ten years, who looked as if he +would like to recite for us, and I asked him what standard he was in. +"The sixth, sir." "And do you like English Literature?" He did not +answer the question exactly, but said, "I know the 'Deserted Village,' +by Oliver Goldsmith." + +"Where was the 'Deserted Village'?" "Sweet Auburn was supposed to be +in Ireland, but it is thought that some of the scenes are taken from +English villages." + +"Can you give us the 'Village Schoolmaster'?" And he did, with point +and emphasis. "Now for the 'Village Parson.'" His memory did not fail +or trip, and the widow sat there machining; so we turned to her for more +information, and found that she was a Leicester woman, and her parents +Scots; she had been a boot machinist from her youth. + +Her husband was a "clicker" from Stafford; he had been dead eight years. +She was left with four children. She had another daughter of fourteen +who had done brilliantly at school, having obtained many distinctions, +and at twelve years had passed her "Oxford Local." This girl had picked +up typewriting herself, and as she was good at figures and a splendid +writer, she obtained a junior clerk's place in the City at seven +shillings and sixpence per week. Every day this girl walked to and from +her business, and every day the poor widow managed to find her fourpence +that the girl might have a lunch in London City. + +I felt interested in this girl, so I wrote asking her to come to lunch +with me on a certain day. She came with a book in her hand, one of +George Eliot's, one of her many prizes. A fourpenny lunch may be +conducive to high thinking, may even lead to an appreciation of great +novels: it certainly leaves plenty of time for the improvement of the +mind, though it does not do much for nourishing the body. I found +her exceedingly interesting and intelligent, with some knowledge of +"political economy," well up in advanced arithmetic, and quite capable +of discussing the books she had read. Yet the family had been born in +an apology of a house, they had graduated in the slums, but not in the +gutter. Their widowed mother had worked interminable hours and starved +as she worked, but no attendance officer had ever been required to +compel her children to school. It would have taken force to keep them +away. But what of their future? Who can say? But of one thing I am very +sure, and it is this: that, given fair opportunity, the whole family +will adorn any station of life that they may be called to fill. + +But will they have that opportunity? Well, the friend that was with me +says they will, and he has commissioned me to act for him, promising +me that if I am taken first and he is left, the cultured family of the +slums shall not go uncared for. And amidst the sordid life of our mean +streets, there are numbers of brilliant children whose God-given talents +not only run to waste, but are actually turned into evil for lack of +opportunity. + +Here and there one and another rise superior to their environment, and +with splendid perseverance fight their way to higher and better life. +And some of them rise to eminence, for genius is not rare even in +Slumdom. + +One of our greatest artists, lately dead, whose work all civilisation +delights to honour, played in a slum gutter, and climbed a lamp-post +that he might get a furtive look into a school of art. + +All honour and good wishes to the rising young, but all glory to the +half-starved widows who shape their characters and form their tastes. +To the old shoemaker good wishes; may the small pension that a friend +of mine has settled on him add to his comfort and his health, may his +beloved minor poets with Dickens and Shakespeare long be dear to him, +and may his poor little home long continue to be peopled with bright +creations that defy the almost omnipotent power of the underworld. + +If any who may read these words would like to do a kind action that will +not be void of good results and sure reward, I would say lend a +helping hand to some poor family where, in spite of their poverty and +surroundings, the children are clean and intelligent, and have made +progress at school. For they are just needing a hand, it may be to help +with their education, or it may be to give them a suitable start in +life. If the mother happens to be a widow, you cannot do wrong. + +If one half of the money that is spent trying to help unhelpable people +was spent in helping the kind of families I refer to in the manner I +describe, the results would be surprising. + +If there is any difficulty in finding such families, I would say apply +to the head mistress or master of a big school in a poor neighbourhood, +they can find them for you. If they cannot, why then I will from among +my self-supporting widow friends. + +But do not, I beseech you, apply to the clergyman of the parish, for he +will naturally select some poor family to whom he has charitably acted +the part of relieving officer. Remember it is brains and grit that you +are in search of, and not poor people only. + +If in every neighbourhood a few people would band themselves together +for this purpose and spend money for this one charitable purpose, it +would of itself, and in reasonable time, effect mighty results. Believe +me, there is plenty of brain power and grit in the underworld that +never gets a chance of developing in a useful direction. Boys and girls +possessing such talents are doomed, unless a miracle happens, for they +have to start in life anyhow and anywhere. + +Nothing is of more importance than a correct start in life for any boy +or girl; but a false start, a bad beginning for the children of the very +poor who happen to possess brain power is fatal. Their talents get no +chance, for they are never used, consequently they atrophy, or, worse +still, are used in a wrong direction and possibly for evil. Good is +changed into evil, bright and useful life is frustrated, and the State +loses the useful power and influence that should result from brains and +grit. + +How can my widow friends, who are unceasingly at work, have either +the time, opportunity or knowledge to find proper openings for their +children? The few shillings that a boy or girl can earn at anything, +or anyhow that is honest, are a great temptation. The commencement +dominates the future! Prospective advantage must needs give place to +present requirements. + +So we all lose! The upperworld loses the children's gifts, character and +service. The underworld retains their poor service for life. + +"It is better," said Milton, "to kill a man than a book." Which may be +true, but probably the truth depends upon the quality of the man and the +book. But what about killing mind, soul, heart, aspirations and every +quality that goes to make up a man? "Their angels do always behold the +face of my Father"; yes, but we compel them to withdraw that gaze, and +look contentedly into the face of evil. + +I am now pleading for the gifted boys and girls of the underworld, not +the weaklings, for of them I speak elsewhere. But I will say, that while +the weaklings are the more hopeless, it is the talented that are the +most dangerous. Let us see to it that their powers have some chance of +developing in a right direction. When by some extraordinary concurrence +of circumstances a Council School boy passes on to a university and +takes a good degree, it is chronicled all over the world; the school, +the teacher, the boy and his parents are all held up for show and +admiration. I declare it makes me ill! Why? Because I know that in the +underworld thousands of men are grubbing, burrowing and grovelling who, +as boys, possessed phenomenal abilities, but whose parents were poor, so +poor that their gifted children had no chance of developing the talent +that was in them. Let us give them a chance! Sometimes here and there +one and another bursts his bonds, and, rejoicing in his freedom, does +brilliant things. But in spite of Samuel Smiles and his self-help they +are but few, though, if the centuries are searched, the catalogue will +be impressive enough. + +Of course there must be self-help. But there must be opportunity also. +There is a great deal of talk about the children of the poor being +"over-educated," and the delinquencies of the youthful poor are +attributed to this bogy. It is because they are under-educated, not +over-educated, that the children of the very poor so often go wrong. + +But the attempt to cast them all in the same mould is disastrous; there +is an over-education going on in this direction. Not all the children of +the poor can be great scholars, but some of them can! Let us give them a +chance. Not all of them can be scientists and engineers, etc., but some +of them have talents for such things! Give them a chance! A good many of +them have unmistakably artistic gifts! Why not give them a chance too! +And the mechanically inclined should have a chance! Why can we not +differentiate according to their tastes and gifts? + +For even then we shall have enough left to be our hewers of wood and +carriers of water; an abundance will remain to do all the work that +requires neither brains nor gifts. + +But let us stop at once and for ever trying to cram thick heads and poor +brains with stuff that cannot possibly be appreciated or understood. Let +us teach their mechanical fingers to do something useful, and give them, +even the degenerates, some chance! + +And we must stop our blind alley occupation for growing lads, for at the +end of the alley stands an open door to the netherworld, and through it +youthful life passes with little prospect of return. + + + +CHAPTER X. PLAY IN THE UNDERWORLD + +It may seem a strange thing, but children do play in the underworld. +They have their own games and their times and seasons too! + +Yet no one can watch them as they play without experiencing feelings +more or less pathetic. There is something incongruous about it that may +cause a smile, but there is also something that will probably cause a +tear. + +For their playgrounds are the gutters or the pavements. Happy are +the children when they can procure a spacious pavement, for in the +underworld wide pavements are scarce; still narrow pavements and gutters +are always to hand. + +It is summer time, the holidays have come! No longer the hum, babble +and shouts of children are heard in and around those huge buildings, the +County Council schools. + +The sun pours its rays into the unclean streets, the thermometer +registers eighty in the shade. Down from the top storey and other +storeys of the blocks the children come, happy in the consciousness that +for one month at least they will be free from school, without dodging +the school attendance officer. + +"Hop-scotch" season has commenced, and as if by magic the pavements of +the narrow streets are covered with chalked lines, geometrical figures +and numerals, and the mysterious word "tod" confronts you, stares at +you, and puzzles you. + +Who can understand the intricacies of "hop-scotch" or the fascination +of "tod"? None but the girls of the underworld. Simple pleasures please +them--a level pavement, a piece of chalk, a "pitcher," the sun overhead, +dirt around, a few companions and non-troublesome babies, are their +chief requirements; for few of these girls come out to play without the +eternal baby. + +Notice first, if you will, how deftly these foster-mothers handle the +babies; their very method tells of long-continued practice. What slaves +these girls are! But they have brought the baby's feeding-bottle, and +also that other fearsome indispensable of underworld infant life, "the +comforter." + +They are going to make a day of it, a mad and merry day, for they have +with them some pieces of bread and margarine to sustain them in the toil +of nursing and the exhaustion of "hop-scotch." + +The "pitcher" is produced, and we notice how punctiliously each girl +takes her proper turn and starts from the correct place; we notice also +the dilapidated condition of their boots, that act as golf clubs and +propel the "pitcher." We wonder how with such boots, curled and twisted +to every conceivable shape, they can strike the "pitcher" at all. There +is some skill in "hop-scotch" played as these girls play it, and with +their "boots" too! + +A one-legged game is "hop-scotch," for the left foot must be held clear +of the pavement, and the "pitcher" must be propelled with the right foot +as the girl "hops." + +If she hops too high and misses it, she is "out"; if she strikes too +hard, and it travels beyond one of the boundaries, she is "out" too; if +she does not propel it far enough, again "out." + +Why, of course there is skill and fascination in it, for it combines the +virtues of golf and baseball, and "tod" is quite as good as a football +goal. And there is good fellowship and self-denial going on, too; not +quite every girl, thank Heaven, is hampered or blessed with a baby, +and we notice how cheerfully they take their turn in nursing while the +foster-mother arrives at "tod." + +The substitute, too, understands the use of the "comforter," for should +it roll in the dirty gutter she promptly returns it to its proper +place, the baby's mouth. Untidy, slatternly girls, not over-clean, not +over-dressed, and certainly not over-fed, we leave them to their play +and their babies. + +Here are a lot of half-naked boys, some standing, some sitting on the +hot pavement; they are playing "cherry hog"; why "hog" I don't know! +Their requisites are a pocketful of cherry stones and a small screw, not +an expensive outfit, for they save the "hogs" when they are permitted +to eat cherries, as sometimes, by the indulgence of a kindly fruiterer, +they are, for he kindly throws all his rotten or unsaleable fruit into +the gutter. + +If these are not to hand, there are plenty of "hogs" to be picked up. As +to the little screw, well, it is easy to get one or steal one. + +The advantage of a screw is that it possesses a flat end, on which it +will stand erect. In this position it is delicately placed so that when +struck by a cherry "hog" it falls. Each boy in turn throws a certain +number of "hogs" at the screw, the successful thrower gathers in the +spoil and goes home with his pocket bursting with cherry "hogs." + +It's an exciting game, but it is gambling nevertheless; why do not the +police interfere? + +Here are some boys playing "buttons"--gambling again! This game is +good practice, too, and a capital introduction to that famous game of +youthful capitalists, "pitch and toss," for it is played in precisely +the same way, only that buttons take the place of half-pennies. + +The road, gutter or pavement will do for "buttons"; a small mark +or "jack" is agreed upon, a line is drawn at a certain distance; +alternately the lads pitch their buttons towards the "jack," three +buttons each. When all have "pitched," the boy whose button is nearest +the "jack" has first toss, that is, he collects all the pitched buttons +in his hand and tosses them; as the buttons lie again on the ground the +lads eagerly scan them, for the buttons that lie with their convex side +upwards are the spoil of the first "tosser." The remaining buttons are +collected by the second, who tosses, and then collects his spoil, and +so on till the buttons are all lost and won. The boy whose buttons are +farthest from "jack" of course gets the last and least opportunity. When +playing for halfpence, "heads or tails" is the deciding factor. + +Why, you say, of course it is a game of skill, just as much as bowls or +quoits; but there are also elements of luck about "pitch and toss" which +gives it an increased attraction. + +Sunday in the underworld is the great day for "pitch and toss," for many +boys have halfpence on that day. They have been at work during the week, +and, having commenced work, their Sunday-school days are at an end. And +having a few halfpence they can indulge their long-continued and fervent +hope of discarding "buttons" and playing the man by using halfpence. + +But how they enjoy it! how intent they are upon it. Sunday morning will +turn to midday, and midday to evening before they are tired of it! Meal +times, or the substitute for meal times, pass, and they remain at it! +always supposing their halfpence last, and the police do not interfere, +the latter being the most likely. + +It takes an interminably long time to dispossess a lad of six halfpence +at this game; fortune is not so fickle as may be supposed. The unskilled +"pitcher" may have luck in "tossing," while the successful "pitcher" may +be an unlucky "tosser." If at the end of a long day they come off pretty +equal, they have had an ideal day. + +But they have had their ups and downs, their alternations of joy and +despair. Sometimes a boy may win a penny; if so, it is evident that +another boy has lost one, and this is sad, though I expect they lose +more coppers to the police than they do to their companions, for the +police harry them and hunt them. Special constables are put on to detect +them, and they know the favourite resorts of the incipient gamblers. +They hunt in couples, too, and they enter the little unclean street at +each end. + +Now for the supreme excitement; they are observed by the watchful eye of +a non-player, who is copperless. There is a rush for the halfpence, +some of which the non-player secures. There's a scamper, but there is no +escape; the police bag them, and innocent boys who join in the scamper +are bagged too. The police search the ground for halfpence, find a few +which they carefully pack in paper, that they may retain some signs +of dirt upon them, for this will be invaluable legal evidence on the +morrow. There is a procession of police, prisoners and gleeful lads who +are not in custody to the nearest police-station. + +On Monday they stand in the dock, when the police with the halfpence and +the dirt still upon them give evidence against them. + +One worthy magistrate will ask them why they were not at home or school. +Another will sternly admonish them upon the evils of street gambling. A +third will tell them that it would have paid them better in health and +pocket to have taken a country walk. But all agree on one point, "that +this street gambling must be put down," and they "put it down," or +attempt to do so, by fining the young ragamuffins five shillings each. + +The excitement of the cells then awaits them, to be followed by a free +ride in "Black Maria," unless "muvver" can pawn something and raise the +money, But many mothers cannot do this, others do not trouble; as to +"farver," well, he does not come in at all, unless it is to give a +"licking" to the boy when he comes out of prison for losing his job and +his wages. + +Truly, the play of the underworld children is exciting enough: there is +danger attaching to it; perhaps that gives a piquancy to it. + +The fascination of "pitch and toss" is felt not only all over England, +where it holds undisputed sway, for it has no real rival, but in America +too! Whilst in America last summer I explored the mean streets of New +York, and not far from the Bowery I found lots of lads at the game. It +was Sunday morning, too, and having some "nickels," I played several +games with them. I was but a poor pitcher, the coins were too light for +me--perhaps I could do better with solid English pennies--but what I +lost in pitching I gained in tossing, so I was not ruined, neither did +the Bowery lads sustain any loss. + +But I found the procedure exactly the same as in England, and I felt the +fascination of it; and some day when I can afford it, I will have a lot +of metal counters made, and I will organise lads into a club; I will +give them "caps," and they shall play where the police won't interfere. + +I will give them trophies to contend for, and Bethnal Green shall +contend with Holloway; a halfpenny "gate" would bring its thousands, and +private gain would give place to club and district "esprit de corps," +for the lads want the game, not the money; the excitement, not the +halfpence. There is nothing intrinsically wrong about "pitch and toss," +only the fact that ragamuffins play it. + +There is a great deal of nonsense talked about the game by superior +people who pose as authorities upon the delinquencies of ragamuffin +youth, and who declaim upon the demoralisation attending this popular +game of poor lads. + +I heard at a meeting of a rich Christian Church, held in a noble hall +in the heart of London's City, one gentleman declare that a smart +ragamuffin youth of his acquaintance possessed a penny with a "head" on +each side for the purpose of enabling him to cheat at this game. + +He did not know what he was talking about, for such pennies would be +as useless for this game as the stones in the streets, for "heads and +tails" are the essence of the game. The boys of the underworld must +play, and ought to play; if those above them do not approve of their +games, well, it is "up to them," as the Americans have it, to find +them better games than pitch and toss, and better playing grounds than +unclean streets. + +Of public parks we have enough; they are very well for sedate and +elderly people. They are useful to foster-mothers, slave girls hugging +babies about, and a boon for nurses with perambulators. But what of +Tom, Dick and Harry, who have just commenced work; what of them? "Boy +Scouting," even with royal patronage, is not for them, for they have +no money to buy uniforms, nor time to scour Epping Forest and Hampstead +Heath for a non-existent enemy. + +Church Lads' Brigade with bishops for patrons, did I hear some one +say? Well, blowing a bugle, no matter how discordantly, is certainly +an attraction for a boy; and wearing a military cap set jauntily on +one side of the head is attractive, too, while the dragging of a +make-believe cannon through the streets may perhaps please others. But +Tom, Dick and Harry from below care for none of these things, for they +are "make-believes," and Tom, Dick and Harry want something real, even +if it is vulgar, something with a strong competitive element in it, even +if it is a little bit rough or wicked. + +Besides Tom, Dick and Harry are not over-clean in person, nor nice +in speech, so they are not wanted. Boy Scouts and Boys' Brigades are +preached at, but Tom, Dick and Harry do not want to be preached at by a +parson, or coddled by a curate. + +They want something real, even though it be punching each other's head, +for that at any rate is real. Give us play, play, real play! is the +cry that is everlastingly rising from the underworld youth. But +the overworld gives them parks and gardens, which are closed at a +respectable hour. But the lads do not go to bed at respectable hours, +for their mothers are still at work and their fathers have not arrived +home. So they play in the streets; then we call them "hooligans," and of +course they must be "put down." + +There is a good deal of "putting down" for the underworld, but it is all +of the wrong sort. For there is no putting down of public playgrounds +for lads of fifteen and upwards open in the evening, lighted by +electricity, and under proper control. Not one in the whole underworld. +So they play in the streets, or rather indulge in what is called +"horse-play." + +But there are youths' clubs! Yes, a few mostly in pokey places, yet they +are useful. But Tom, Dick and Harry want space, room and air, for they +get precious little of these valuable commodities at their work, and +still less in their homes. Watch them if you will, as I have watched +them scores of times in the streets, how foolish, yet how pitiable their +conduct is; you will see that they walk for about two hundred yards and +then walk back again, and then repeat the same walk, till the hours have +passed; they seem to be as circumscribed as caged animals. They walk +within bounds up and down the "monkey's parade." + +How inane and silly their conversation is! Sometimes a whim comes upon +them, and one runs for a few yards; the whim takes possession of others, +and they do exactly the same. One seizes another round the body and +wrestles with him. Immediately the others begin to wrestle too; their +actions are stereotyped, silly and objectionable, even when they do not +quarrel. + +They bump against the people, women included, especially young women. +They push respectable people into the gutters, and respectable people +complain to the police. An extra force is told off to keep order, and to +put Tom, Dick and Harry down. + +Sunday night is the worst night of all! for now these youths are out +in their thousands; certain streets are given up to them, and become +impassable for others. Respectable folk are shocked, and church-going +folk are scandalised! Surely the streets are the property of respectable +people! and yet they cannot pass through them without annoyance. + +At length the street is cleared and patrolled, for respectability must +be protected, not that there has been either violence or robbery. Oh +dear, no! There has only been foolish horse-play by the Toms, Dicks and +Harrys who, having nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do, having, +moreover, been joined by their female counterparts, have been enjoying +themselves in their own way, for they have been "at play." + +It is astonishing how fond of water the unwashed children of the +underworld are! It has an attraction for them, often a fatal attraction, +even though it be thick with dirt and very malodorous. During the summer +time the boys' bathing lakes in Victoria Park are crowded and alive with +youngsters, who splash and flounder and choke, splutter and laugh +in them. They present a sight worth seeing, and teach a lesson worth +remembering. + +The canals of Hoxton, Haggerston and Islington, too, dirty and dangerous +as they are, prove seductive to the boys who live close to them. Now the +police have an anxious time. Again they must look after Tom, Dick and +Harry, for demure respectability must not be outraged by a sight of +their naked bodies. + +So the police keep a sharp outlook for them. Some one kindly informs +them that a dozen boys are bathing in the canal near a certain bridge, +and quickly enough they find them in the very act. There the little +savages are! Some can swim, and some cannot; those that cannot are +standing in the slime near the side, stirring up its nastiness. They see +the policeman advancing, and those that can swim get ashore and run +for their little bits of clothing, tied up in a bundle ready for +emergencies. Into the water again they go for the other side! But, alas! +another policeman is waiting on the other side at the place where they +expected to land, so they must needs swim till another landing place +offers security. But even here they find that escape is hopeless, for +yet another policeman awaits them. + +Those who cannot swim seize their bundles, and, without waiting to +dress, run naked and unashamed along the canal, side, to the merriment +of the bargees, and the joy of the women and girls who happen to have no +son or brother amongst them, for the underworld is not so easily shocked +as the law and its administrators imagine. + +Ultimately they, too, find a policeman waiting for them, and a "good +bag" results. But the magistrate is very lenient; with a twinkle in his +eye he reproves them, and fines them one shilling each, which with great +difficulty their "muvvers" pay. + +But it has been a good day for the police, for four of them have helped +to convey six shillings from the wretchedly poor to the coffers of the +police-court receiver. But when the school holidays come round, that is +the time for the dirty canal to tell its tale, and to give up its dead, +too! + +Read this from the Daily Press, July 16th, 1911-- + +"A remarkable record in life-saving was disclosed at a Bethnal Green +inquest to-day on a child of six, named Browning, who was drowned in the +Regent's Canal on Bank Holiday. + +"Henry H. Terry, an out-of-work carman, said he was called from his +home near by, and raced down to the canal. There was a youth on the bank +holding a stick over the water, apparently waiting for the child to come +up to the surface. + +"The coroner: 'How old was the youth?' 'Well, he stood five feet six +inches, and might have gone in without getting out of his depth. I heard +a woman cry, "Why don't you go in!" I dived in five or six times, but +did not bring up the body.' The witness added that he and his brother +had saved many lives at this spot, the latter having effected as many +as twenty-five rescues in a year. Alfred Terry, a silk weaver, described +the point at which the child was drowned as a veritable death-trap, and +mentioned that he had been instrumental during the past twelve years in +saving considerably over one hundred lives at that spot. + +"'One hot July afternoon in 1900,' he added,'my mother and I had five of +them in the kitchen at one time with a roaring fire to bring them round. +That was during the school holidays; they dropped in like flies.' + +"Accidental death was the verdict." + +But when the little ones play in the gutter, danger lurks very near, as +witness the extract of the same date-- + +"At an inquest at the Poplar coroner's court to-day, on a +three-years'-old girl named Bertiola, it was stated that while playing +with other children she was struck on the head with a tin engine. Three +weeks later she was playing with the same children, and one of them hit +her on the head with the wooden horse. + +"The coroner: 'Two similar blows in a few days, that is very strange.' + +"Dr. Packer said that death was due to cerebral meningitis, the result +of a blow on the head. + +"The coroner: 'I suppose you can't tell which blow caused the trouble' +'No, sir, I am afraid not.' + +"The jury returned a verdict of accidental death." + +But sometimes the boys and girls of the underworld collaborate in their +play, for just now (July) "Remember the grotto! please to remember the +grotto!" is a popular cry. Who has not seen the London grottos he who +knows them not, knows nothing of the London poor. + +I was watching some girls play "hop-scotch" when a boy and girl with +oyster shells in their hands came up to me preferring the usual request, +"Please to remember the grotto!" Holding out their shells as they spoke. + +"Where is your grotto?" I said. "There, sir, over there; come and see +it." Aye! there is was, sure enough, and a pretty little thing it was +in its way, built up to the wall in a quiet corner, glistening with its +oyster shells, its bits of coloured china and surmounted with a little +flag. + +"But where are the candles?" "Oh, sir, we haven't got any yet; we shall +get candles when we get some money, and light them to-night; we have +only just finished it." "Where did you get your shells?" "From the +fish-shops." "Where did you get the pretty bits of china from?" "We +saved them from last year." "Does grotto time come the same time every +year, then" "Oh yes, sir." "How is that?" "'Cos it's the time for it." +"Why do you build grottos" "To get money." "Yes, but why do people give +you money; what do grottos commemorate, don't you know?" "No, sir." + +I looked at a poor half-paralysed boy with sharp face and said, "Well, +my boy, you ought to know; do you go to Sunday School?" "Yes, sir, both +of us; St. James the Less." "Well, I shall not tell you the whole story +to-day, but here is sixpence for you to buy candles with; and next +Sunday ask your teacher to tell you why boys and girls build grottos; +I shall be here this day week, and if you can tell me I will give you a +shilling." + +There were at least six grottos in that street when I got there on +the appointed day. A large crowd of children with oyster shells were +waiting; evidently the given sixpence and the promised shilling had +created some excitement in that corner of Bethnal Green. + +They were soon all round me, and a general chorus arose with hands +outstretched, "Please to remember the grotto! please to remember the +grotto!" I called them to silence, and said, "Can any one tell me why +you build grottos?" There was a general chorus, "To get money, sir." +That was all they knew, and it seemed to them a sufficient reason. + +Turning to the little cripple, I said, "Did you ask your teacher?" +"Yes, sir, but she said it was only children's play; but I bought some +candles, and they are lighted now." + +I said, "Now, children, listen to me, for I am going to tell you about +the beginning of grottos. + +"A good many hundred years ago, when Jesus was on earth, He had two +disciples named James; in after years one was called 'James the Greater' +and the other 'James the Less.' After the death of Jesus, James the +Greater was put to death, and the disciples were scattered, and wandered +into many far countries. James the Less wandered into Spain, telling the +people about Jesus. He lived a good and holy life, helping the poor and +the afflicted. + +"When he died, the people who loved him and reverenced him made a +great funeral, and built him a costly tomb, but instead of putting up a +monument to him, they built a large and beautiful grotto over the place +where his body lay. They lined it with beautiful and costly shells and +other rich things, and lit it with many candles. + +"Thousands of people came to see the grotto, and gave money to buy +candles that it might always be lighted. + +"Every year, on the anniversary of St. James's death, the people came +by thousands to the grotto. One year it was said that a crippled man had +been made quite well while praying at the grotto. This event was told +everywhere, and from that day forth on St. James's Day people came from +many countries, many of them walking hundreds of miles to the grotto. + +"Some of these people were ill and diseased, and others were sick and +blind, and some were cripples. + +"It is said that a good many of them were cured of their afflictions. + +"Now all these poor people that walked slowly and painfully to St. +James's tomb carried big oyster shells, in which they made holes for +cords to pass through, and they placed the cords round their necks. + +"When they came near to people they would hold out their shells and say, +'Please to remember the grotto!' And people gave them money to help them +on their way and to buy candles for the grotto, hoping that the poor +people would get there safely and come back cured. + +"So it came to pass that whenever people saw a man with an oyster shell, +they knew he was going or returning from St. James's tomb in Spain, +and they helped him. The custom of building grottos on St. James's Day +spread to many countries besides Spain. In Russia they build very fine +grottos. At length the custom came to England, and you boys and girls do +what other boys and girls have done for many years in other countries, +and in reality you celebrate the death of a great and good man." + +The children were very silent for a while; the cripple boy looked at me +with tears in his eyes, and I knew what his tears expressed. I gave +him a shilling, but he did not speak; to all the other children who had +built grottos I gave threepence each, and there was joy in that corner +of Bethnal Green. + +There is always something pathetic about play in the underworld. We feel +that there is something wanting in it, perhaps that something would come +into it, if there were more opportunities of real and competitive play. +Keeping shops, or teaching schools may do for girls to play at, but a +lad, if he is any good, wants something more robust. + +I often find cripple boys playing "tip-cat," another game upon which +the law has its eye, or hurrying along on crutches after something that +serves as a football, and getting there in time, too, for a puny kick. +But that kick, little as it is, thrills the poor chap, and he feels that +he has been playing. I am sure that football is going to play a great +part in the physical salvation of Tom, Dick and Harry, but they must +have other places than the streets in which to learn and practise the +game. + +We have heard a great deal about the playing-fields of public schools; +we are told that we owe our national safety to them; perhaps it +is correct, but I really do not know. But this I do know, that the +non-provision of playing-fields, or grounds for the male youthful poor, +is a national danger and a menace to activity, endurance, health and +pluck. + +Nothing saves them now but the freehold of the streets. Rob them of this +without giving them something better, and we shall speedily have a race +of flat-footed, flat-chested, round-shouldered poor, with no brains for +mental work, and no strength for physical work. A race exactly qualified +for the conditions to which we so freely submit it in prison. And above +those conditions that race will have no aspirations. So give them play, +glorious play, manly strife; let their hearts beat, and their chests +expand that they may breathe from their bottom lungs, that their limbs +may be supple and strong, for it will pay the nation to give Tom, Dick +and Harry healthy play. + +And they long for it, do Tom, Dick and Harry! Did you ever see hundreds +of them on a Sunday morning coming up from their lairs in Hoxton, +Shoreditch, Spitalfields and Bethnal Green, to find a field or open +space in the suburbs where they might kick a football? I have seen it +scores of times. A miserable but hopeful sight it is; hopeful because +it bears testimony to the ingrained desire that English lads have for +active healthy play. Miserable because of their appearance, and because +of the fact that no matter what piece of open ground or fields they +may select, they are trespassers, and may be ejected, or remain on +sufferance only. + +Happy are they if they can find a piece of land marked for sale, where +the jerry-builder has not yet commenced a suburban slum. Like a swarm +of locusts they are down on it, and quickly every blade of grass +disappears, "kicked off" as if by magic. + +Old walking-sticks, pieces of lath or old coats and waistcoats serve as +goal-posts. Touch-lines they have none, one playing-ground runs across +the other, and a dozen teams are soon hard at it. They have no caps to +distinguish them, no jerseys or knickers of bright hues. There are no +"flannelled fools" among them, but quickly there are plenty of "muddied +oafs." Trousers much too long are rolled up, coats and vests are +dispensed with, braces are loosed and serve as belts. There is running +to and fro, mud, and poor old footballs are kicked hither and thither. +They knock, kick and shoulder each other, their bare arms and faces are +coated with mud, they fall over the ball and over each other. If they +cannot kick their own ball, they kick one that belongs to another team. +There is much shouting, much laughter and some bad language! and so they +go at it till presently there is a great cheer, for Hoxton has got a +second goal, and Haggerston is defeated. And they keep at it for two +long hours, if they are not interfered with, then back to their lairs +and food. + +All this time good people have been in the churches close by, and the +shouting of the Hoxtonians has disturbed them, and the gentle whisper of +the Haggerstonians has annoyed them. Some of them are scandalised, and +say the police ought to stop such nuisances; perhaps they are right, for +there is much to be said against it. But there is something to be said +on the other side, too; for the natural instinct of English boys must +have an outlet or perish. If it perish they perish too, and then old +England would miss them. + +So let them play, but give them playgrounds! For playgrounds will pay +better than nice, respectable parks. The outlay will be returned in +due time in a big interest promptly paid from the increased vitality, +energy, industry and honesty of our Toms, Dicks and Harrys. So let them +play! + +With much pleasure I quote from the Daily Press, November 24th, the +following-- + +"LEARNING TO PLAY + +"ORGANISED GAMES IN HYDE PARK IN SCHOOL HOURS + +"It is good news that arrangements are being made by the Office of +Works for the use of a part of Hyde Park for organised games under the +direction of the London County Council. Hitherto the only royal parks +in which space has been allotted for this purpose are Regent's Park and +Greenwich Park. But the King, as is well known, takes a keen interest in +all that concerns the welfare of the children, and has gladly sanctioned +the innovation. + +"During the year an increasing number of the elementary schools in +London have taken advantage of the article in the code of regulations +which provides that, under certain conditions, organised games may, if +conducted under competent supervision and instruction, be played during +school hours. Up to the present the London County Council has authorised +the introduction of organised games by 580 departments, 295 boys', 225 +girls', and 60 mixed. + +"The games chiefly played by boys are football, cricket and rounders, +according to the season. Girls enjoy a greater variety, and in addition +to cricket and rounders, are initiated into the mysteries of hockey, +basket ball, target ball, and other ball games. + +"The advantages of the children being taught to get the best exercise +out of the games, and to become skilful in them, are obvious. + +"Arrangements have been made with the various local athletic +associations and consultative committees whereby in each metropolitan +borough there are hon. district representatives (masters and mistresses) +in connection with organised games. Pitches are reserved in over +thirty of the L.C.C. parks and open spaces for the use of schools. The +apparatus required is generally stored at the playing-fields for the +common use of all schools attending, but small articles such as balls, +bats, sticks are supplied to each school. + +"The Council has decided that, so far as practicable, the apparatus for +organised games shall be made at the Council's educational institutes, +and, as a result of this decision, much of it is fashioned at the +handicraft centres." + +This is all for good. But I am concerned for adolescent youth that +has left school--the lads whose home conditions absolutely prevent the +evening hours being spent indoors. Is there to be no provision for them? + + + +CHAPTER XI. ON THE VERGE OF THE UNDERWORLD + +Charles Dickens has somewhere said, "The ties that bind the rich to +their homes may be made on earth, but the ties that bind the poor to +their homes are made of truer metal and bear the stamp of Heaven." And +he adds that the wealthy may love their home because of the gold, silver +and costly things therein, or because of the family history. But that +when the poor love their homes, it is because their household gods +are gods of flesh and blood. Dickens's testimony is surely true, for +struggle, cares, sufferings and anxieties make their poor homes, even +though they be consecrated with pure affection, "serious and solemn +places." + +To me it has always been evident that the heaviest part of the burden +inseparable from a poor man's home falls upon the wife. + +Blessed is that home where the wife is equal to her duties, and doubly +blessed is the home where the husband, being a true helpmate, is anxious +to carry as much of the burden as possible. For then the home, even +though it be small and its floors brick, becomes in all truth "a sweetly +solemn place." It becomes a good training ground for men and women that +are to be. But I am afraid the working men do not sufficiently realise +what heavy, onerous and persistent duties fall upon the wife. With +nerves of brass they do not appreciate the fact that wives may be, and +are, very differently constituted to themselves. Many wives are lonely; +but the husbands do not always understand the gloomy imaginations that +pervade the lonely hours. The physical laws that govern women's personal +health make periods of depression and excitement not only possible, but +certain. + +Let us consider for a moment the life of a poor man's wife in London, +where her difficulties are increased by high rent and a long absence +of the husband. She has the four everlasting walls to look at, eternal +anxieties as to the future, the repeated weekly difficulties of making +ends meet, and too often the same lack of consideration from the +husband. + +The week's washing for the family she must do, the mending and darning +for the household is her task, the children must be washed and clothed +and properly cared for by her. Of her many duties there is no end. + +Sickness in the family converts her into a nurse. She herself must bear +the pangs and sufferings of motherhood, and for that time must make +preparation. For death in the family she must also provide, so the +eternities are her concern. Things present and things to come leave her +little time to contemplate the past. + +Ask me the person of many duties, and I point to the wife of a poor man. + +Thank God, the law of compensation rules the universe, and she is not +exempt from its ruling. She has her compensations doubtless, but I am +seriously afraid not to the extent to which she is entitled, though, +perhaps, they are greater than we imagine. + +Her duties are not always pleasant, for when her husband falls out of +work the rent must be paid, or she must mollify a disappointed landlord. +In many of our London "model" dwellings, if she is likely to have a +fourth child, three being the limit, she must seek a new home. And it +ought to be known that on this account there is a great exodus every +year from some of our London "dwellings." + +It seems scarcely credible, but it is nevertheless a fact, that in some +dwellings she may not keep a cat, a dog, or even a bird, neither may +she have flowers in pots on her window-sills. She is hedged round with +prohibitions, but she is expected to be superior and to abide in staid +respectability on an income of less than thirty shillings per week. And +she does it, though how she does it is a marvel. + +Come with me to visit Mrs. Jones, who lives at 28, White Elephant +Buildings. Mr. Jones is a painter at work for eight months in the year, +if he has good luck, but out of work always at that time of the year +when housekeeping expenses are highest. For every working man's wife +will tell you that coal is always dearer at the time of the year when it +is most required. In White Elephant Buildings there is no prohibition as +to the number of children, or the Jones family would not be there, for +they number eight all told. It is dinner time, and the children are all +in from school, and, being winter time, Jones is at home too! He has +been his wearying round in search of work earlier in the day, and has +just returned to share the midday meal which the mother serves. In all +conscience the meal is limited enough, but we notice that Jones gets an +undue proportion, and we wonder whether the supply will go round. + +We see that the children are next served in their order, the elder +obtaining just a little more food than the younger, and, last of +all--Mrs. Jones. + +It is true that self-denial brings its own reward, for in her case there +is little to reward her in the shape of food. + +To me it is still astonishing, although I have known it for years, +that thousands of poor men's wives go through years of hard work, +and frequent times of motherhood on an amount of food that must be +altogether inadequate. + +Brave women! Aye, brave indeed! for they not only deny themselves food, +but clothing, and all those little personal adornments that are so dear +to the heart of women. There is no heroism to equal it. It only ends +when the children have all passed out of hand, and then it is too late, +for in her case appetite has not been developed with eating, so that +when the day comes that food is more plentiful, the desire for it is +lacking. + +It is small wonder, then, that Mrs. Jones has a careworn look, and does +not look robust. She has been married twelve years, so that every second +year she has borne a child. The dark rings beneath her eyes tell of +protracted hours of work, and the sewing-machine underneath the window +tells us that she supplements the earnings of her husband by making old +clothes into new, and selling them to her neighbours, either for their +children's wear or their own. This accounts for the fact that her +own children are so comfortably clothed. The dinner that we have seen +disappear cost ninepence, for late last evening, just before the cheap +butchers close by shut up for the night, Mrs. Jones bought one pound +and a half of pieces, and, with the aid of two onions and some potatoes, +converted them into a nourishing stew. + +Many times near midnight I have stood outside the cheap butchers' and +watched careful women make their purchases. It is a pitiful sight, and +when one by one the women have made their bargains, we notice that the +shopboard is depleted of its heap of scrags and odds and ends. + +So day by day Mrs. Jones feeds her family, limiting her expenditure to +her purse. And, truth to tell, Jones and the little Joneses look well +on it. But two things in addition to the rent test her managing powers. +Boots for the children! and coal for the winter! The latter difficulty +she gets over by paying one shilling per week into a coal club all the +year through. When Jones is in work she buys extra coal, but when the +winter comes she draws upon her reserves at the coal merchant's. + +But the boots are more difficult. To his credit let it be said that +Jones mends the family's boots. That is, he can "sole and heel," though +he cannot put on a patch or mend the uppers. But with everlasting +thought for the future, Mrs. Jones makes certain of boots for the +family. Again a "club" is requisitioned, and by dint of rigid management +two shillings weekly pass into a shoemaker's hands, and in their turn +the family gets boots; the husband first, the children one by one, +herself last--or never! + +Week by week she lives with no respite from anxiety, with no surcease +from toil. By and by the eldest boy is ready for work, and Mrs. Jones +looks forward to the few shillings he will bring home weekly, and builds +great things upon it. Alas! it is not all profit; the boy must have +a new suit, he requires more food, and he must have a little spending +money, "like other boys"; and though he is a good lad, she finds +ultimately that there is not much left of Tom's six shillings. + +Never mind! on she goes, for will he not get a rise soon and again +expectation encourages her. + +So the poor woman, hampered as she is with present cares, looks forward +to the time when life will be a bit easier, when the united earnings of +the children will make a substantial family income. Oh, brave woman! it +is well for her to live in hope, and every one who knows her hopes too +that disappointment will not await her, and that her many children will +"turn out well." + +Mrs. Jones is typical of thousands of working men's wives, and such +women demand our admiration and respect. What matter though some of them +are a bit frowsy and not over-clean? they have precious little time +to attend to their personal adornment. I ask, who can fulfil all their +duties and remain "spick-and-span"? + +"Nagging," did I hear some one say? My friend, put yourself in her +place, and imagine whether you would remain all sweetness and courtesy. +Again I say, that I cannot for the life of me understand how she can +bear it all, suffering as she does, and yet remain so patient and so +hopeful. + +Add to the duties I have enumerated the time when sickness and death +enter the home. Mrs. Grundy has declared that even poor people must put +on "mourning," and must bury their dead with excessive expenditure, and +Mrs. Grundy must be obeyed. + +But what struggles poor wives make to do it! but a "nice" funeral is +a fascinating sight to the poor. So thousands of poor men's wives deny +themselves many comforts, and often necessaries, that they may for +certain have a few pounds, should any of their children die. Religiously +they pay a penny or twopence a week for each of their children to some +industrial insurance company for this purpose. + +A few pounds all at once loom so large that they forget all the toil, +stress and self-denial they have undergone to keep those pence regularly +paid. Decent "mourning" and "nice funerals" are greatly admired, for if +a working man's wife accepts parish aid at such time, why then she has +fallen low indeed. + +And for the time when a new life comes into light, the poor man's wife +must make provision. At this time anxiety is piled upon anxiety. There +must be no parish doctor, no parish nurse; out of her insufficient +income she makes weekly payments to a local dispensary that during +sickness the whole household may be kept free of doctor's bills. An +increased payment for herself secures her, when her time comes, from +similar worry. But the nurse must be paid, so during the time of her +"trouble" the poor woman screws, schemes and saves a little money; money +that ought in all truth to have been spent upon herself, that a weekly +nurse may attend her. But every child is dearer than the last, and the +wonderful love she has for every atom of humanity born to her repays all +her sufferings and self-denial. + +So I ask for the poor man's wife not only admiration and consideration, +but, if you will, some degree of pity also. I would we could make her +burdens easier, her sorrows less, and her pleasures more numerous. Most +devoutly I hope that the time may soon arrive when "rent day" will +be less dreaded, and when the collector will be satisfied with a less +proportion of the family's earnings. For this is a great strain upon +the poor man's wife, a strain that is never absent! for through times +of poverty and sickness, child birth and child death, persistently and +inexorably that day comes round. Undergoing constant sufferings and +ceaseless anxieties, it stands to the poor man's wife's credit that +their children fight our battles, people our colonies, uphold the credit +of our nation, and perpetuate the greatness of the greatest empire the +world has ever known. + +But Mrs. Jones' eldest girl has a hard time too! for she acts as nurse +and foster-mother to the younger children. It was well for her that Tom +was born before her or she would have nursed him. Perhaps it was well +for Tom also that he got the most nourishment. As it is the girl has her +hands full, and her time is more than fully occupied. She goes to +school regularly both Sunday and week-day. She passes all her standards, +although she is not brilliant. She washes the younger children, she +nurses the inevitable baby, she clears the "dinner things" away at +midday, and the breakfast and tea-cups in their turn. She sits down to +the machine sometimes and sews the clothing her mother has cut out and +"basted." She is still a child, but a woman before her time, and Mrs. +Jones and all the young Joneses will miss her when she goes "out." + +When that time comes, Mrs. Jones will not be so badly put to it as +she was when Tom went "out." For she has been paying regularly into a +draper's club, and with the proceeds a quantity of clothing material +will be bought. So Sally's clothing will be made at home, and Sally and +her mother will sit up late at night to make it. + +It is astonishing how "clubs" of all descriptions enter into the lives +of the poor. There is, of course, the "goose club" for Christmas, for +the poor make sure of one good meal during the year. Some of them are +extravagant enough to join "holiday clubs," but this Mrs. Jones cannot +afford, so her clubs are limited to her family's necessities, excepting +the money club held at a neighbour's house into which she pays one +shilling weekly. This club consists of twenty members, who "draw" +for choice. Thus once in twenty weeks, sooner or later, Mrs. Jones is +passing rich, for she is in possession of twenty shillings all at once. + +There is some discussion between Sally and her mother as to the spending +of it; Tom's first suit was bought by this means, and Jones himself is +not forgotten; but for Mrs. Jones no thought is given. + +The planning, scheming and contrivance it takes to run a working man's +home, especially when the husband has irregular work, is almost past +conception, and the amount of self-denial is extraordinary. + +But it is the wife who finds the brains and exercises the self-denial. +Her methods may be laughed at by wiser people, for there is some +wastage. The friendly club-keeper must have a profit, and the possession +of wealth represented by a whole sovereign costs something. But when +Mrs. Jones gets an early "draw," she exchanges her "draw" for a later +one, and makes some little profit. + +Oh, the scheming and excitement of it all, for even Mrs. Jones cannot do +without her little "deal." But what will Sally settle down to? Now comes +the difficulty and deciding point in her life, and a critical time it +is. + +Mrs. Jones has not attended a mother's meeting, she has been too busy; +church has not seen much of her except at the christenings; district +visitors and clergymen have not shown much interest in her; Jones +himself is almost indifferent, and quite complacent. + +So Sally and her mother discuss the matter. The four shillings weekly +to be obtained in a neighbouring factory are tempting, but the girls are +noisy and rude; yet Sally will be at home in the evenings and have +time to help her mother, and that is tempting too! A neighbouring +blouse-maker takes girls to teach them the trade, and Sally can machine +already, so she will soon pick up the business; that looks nice too, but +she would earn nothing for the first three months, so that is ruled out. +Domestic service is thought of, but Sally is small for her age, and +only fourteen; she does not want to be a nurse girl; she has had enough +nursing--she has been a drudge long enough. + +So to the factory she goes, though Mrs. Jones has her misgivings, and +gives her strong injunctions to come straight home, which of course +Sally readily promises, though whether that promise will be strictly +kept is uncertain. But her four shillings are useful in the family +exchequer; they are the deciding factor in Sally's life! + +So on through all the succeeding years of the developing family life +comes the recurring anxiety of getting her children "out." These +anxieties may be considered very small, but they are as real, as +important, and as grave as the anxieties that well-to-do people +experience in choosing callings or professions for sons and daughters to +whom they cannot leave a competency. + +And all this time the family are near, so very near to the underworld. +The death of Jones, half-timer as he is, would plunge them into it; and +the breakdown or death of Mrs. Jones would plunge them deeper still. + +What an exciting and anxious life it really is! Small wonder that +many descend to the underworld when accident overtakes them. But for +character, grit, patience and self-denial commend me to such women. All +honour to them! may their boys do well! may their girls in days to come +have less anxieties and duties than fall to the lot of working men's +wives of to-day. + + + +CHAPTER XII. IN PRISONS OFT + +If every chapter in this book is ignored, I hope that this one will be +read thoughtfully. For I want to show that a great national wrong, a +stupidly cruel wrong, exists. + +Probably all injustice is stupid, but this wrong is so foolish, that +any man who thinks for one moment upon it will wonder how it came into +existence. + +I have written and spoken about it so often that I am almost ashamed of +returning to the subject. Yet all our penal authorities, from the Home +Secretary downwards, know all there is to be known about it. + +I am going, then, to reiterate a serious charge! It is this: no boy from +eight years of age up to sixteen, unless sound in mind and body, can +find entrance into any reformatory or industrial school! No matter how +often he falls into the hands of the police, or what charges may be +brought against him, not even if he is friendless and homeless. Again, +no youthful prisoner under twenty-one years of age, no matter how bad +his record, is allowed the benefit of Borstal training unless he, too, +be sound in mind and body. This is not only an enormity, but it is also +a great absurdity; for it ultimately fills our prisons with weaklings, +and assures the nation a continuous prison population. + +It seems very extraordinary that prison and prison alone should be +considered the one and only place suitable for the afflicted children of +the poor when they break any law, but so it is. + +The moral hump is tolerated, even patronised in reformative +institutions, but the physical hump, never! + +Cunning, dishonesty and rascality generally may be tolerated, but +feebleness of mind or infirmity of body never! All through our penal +administration and prison discipline this principle prevails, and is +strictly acted upon. + +Let me put it briefly; prison, and prison only, is the one and only +place for afflicted youth when it happens to break one or the other of +our laws. + +We have numerous institutions, half penal and half educative, that exist +absolutely for the purpose of receiving homeless, wayward or criminally +inclined youthful delinquents. + +These institutions, I say, although kept going from public funds, +refuse, absolutely refuse, to give training to any youthful delinquent +who suffers from physical infirmity or mental weakness. + +Think of it again! all youthful delinquents suffering from any infirmity +of body or mind, are refused reformative treatment or training in all +publicly supported institutions established for delinquent youth. + +He may be a thief, but if he is a hunchback they will have none of him. +He may be a danger to other children, if he has fits he will not be +received. He may rob the tills of small shopkeepers, but if he is lame, +half-blind, has heart disease, or if his brain is not sound and his body +strong, if he has lost a hand, got a wooden leg, if he suffers from any +disease or deprivation, prison, and prison only, is the place for him. +So to prison the afflicted one goes if over fourteen; if under fourteen +back to his home, to graduate in due time for prison. + +This is no exaggeration, it is a true picture, and this procedure has +gone on till our prisons have become filled with broken and hopeless +humanity. + +Could any one ever suggest a more disastrous course than this? Why, +decency, pity, or just a grain of common sense ought to teach us, and +would teach us if we thought for a moment, that it is not only wrong but +supremely foolish. + +For there is a very close connection between neglected infirmity, mental +or physical, and crime, a connection that ought to be considered, and +few questions demand more instant attention. Yet no question is more +persistently avoided and shelved by responsible authorities, for no +means of dealing with the defective in mind or body when they commit +offences against the law, other than by short terms of useless +imprisonment, have at present been attempted or suggested. It seems +strange that in Christianised, scientised England such procedure should +continue even for a day, but continue it does, and to-day it seems as +little likely to be altered as it was twenty years ago. Let me +then charge it upon our authorities that they are responsible for +perpetuating this great and cruel wrong. They are not in ignorance, +for the highest authorities know perfectly well that every year +many hundreds of helpless and hopeless degenerates or defectives are +committed to prison and tabulated as habitual criminals. Our authorities +even keep a list on which is placed the names of these unfortunates who, +after prolonged experience and careful medical examinations, are found +to be "unfit for prison discipline." + +This list is of portentous length, and to it four hundred more names are +added every year. This is of itself an acknowledgment by the State that +every year four hundred unfortunate human beings who cannot appreciate +the nature and quality of the acts they have committed, are treated, +punished and graded as criminals. Now the State knows perfectly well +that these unfortunates need pity, not punishment; the doctor, not the +warder; and some place where mild, sensible treatment and permanent +restraint can take the place of continual rounds of short imprisonment +alternated with equally senseless short spells of freedom. + +No! not freedom, but a choice between starvation, prison or workhouse. +Now this list grows, and will continue to grow just so long as the +present disastrous methods are persisted in! + +Why does this list grow? Because magistrates have no power to order +the detention of afflicted youthful offenders in any place other than +prison; they cannot commit to reformatory schools only on sufferance and +with the approval of the school managers, who demand healthy boys. + +So ultimately to prison the weaklings go, and an interminable round +of small sentences begins. But even in prison they are again punished +because of their afflictions, for only the sound in mind and body are +given the benefit of healthy life and sensible training. + +Consequently in prison they learn little that can be of service to +them; they only graduate in idleness, and prison having comforts but +no terrors, they quickly join the ranks of the habitues. When it is too +late they are "listed" as not suitable for prison treatment. Year by +year in a country of presumably sane people this deplorable condition +of things continues, and I am bold enough to say that there will be no +reduction in the number of our prison population till proper treatment, +training, and, if need be, detention, is provided in places other than +prison for our afflicted youthful population when they become offenders +against the law. + +But reformatory and industrial schools have not only power to refuse +youthful delinquents who are unsound in mind or body; they have also the +power to discharge as "unfit for training" any who have managed to +pass the doctor's examination, whose defects become apparent when under +detention. + +From the last Official Report of Reformatory Schools in England and +Wales I take the following figures-- + +During the years 1906-7-8 14 imbeciles (males) were discharged on +licence from reformatory schools; and during the same three years no +less than 93 (males) were discharged by the Home Secretary's permission +as "unfit for physical training." The 14 imbeciles in the Official +Report are classified as dead, and the 93 physically unfit are included +among them "not in regular employment." + +For the same period of years I find that 28 (girls) were discharged from +English reformatory schools as being physically unfit. + +The Official Report of Industrial Schools includes England, Wales and +Scotland, and for the same three years I find that 13 (males) were +discharged from industrial schools as being imbeciles, and 116 (males) +as being "unfit for physical training." + +Strange to say, in the Annual Report the physically unfit are included +among those "in casual employment," and the imbeciles are included among +the "dead." + +From the same Official Report we have the statement that in one year, +1909, in England and Scotland 991 (males) and 20 (females) who had been +discharged from reformatory schools were re-convicted and committed to +prison. + +How many of them were mentally or physically defective we have no means +of knowing, for no information is given upon this point; but there is +not the slightest doubt that a large number of them were weak-minded, +though not sufficiently so to allow them being classified as imbeciles. + +The terrible consequence of this procedure may also be gathered from +the Report of the Prison Commissioners for England and Wales 1910, from +which it appears that during the year 157 persons were certified +insane among the prisoners in the local and convict prisons, Borstal +institutions and of State reformatories, during the year ending March +31, 1910. + +In addition to the above there were 290 (213 males and 77 females) +cases of insanity in remanded and other unconvicted prisoners dealt +with during the year, including 14 males and 2 females found "insane on +arraignment," and 173 males and 65 females found insane on remand +from police or petty sessional courts. There were 30 (20 males and 10 +females) prisoners found "guilty" but "insane" at their trial. + +But the most illuminating report comes from the medical officer at +Parkhurst Convict Prison; these are his words-- + +Weak-minded convicts and others whose mental state is doubtful continue +to be collected here. The special rules for their management are adhered +to. The number classified as weak-minded at the end of the year was +117, but in addition there were 34 convicts attached to the parties of +weak-minded for further mental observation. + +"The conduct and tractability of these prisoners naturally vary with the +individual; a careful consideration of the history of each of the 117 +classified weak-minded convicts indicates that about 64 are fairly +easily managed, the remainder difficult to deal with, and a few are +dangerous characters. + +CLASSIFICATION OF WEAK-MINDED CONVICTS:-- + + (a) Congenital deficiency:- + 1. With epilepsy . . . . . . 9 + 2. Without epilepsy. . . . . . 46 + (b) Imperfectly developed stage of insanity 18 + (c) Mental debility after attack of insanity 8 + (d) Senility . . . . . . 2 + (e) Alcohol . . . . . . 6 + (f) Undefined . . . . . . 28 + ----- + 117 + ===== + +"The following is a list of the crimes of the classified weak-minded for +which they are undergoing their present sentences of penal servitude, +and the number convicted for each type of crime-- + + False pretences . . . . . . . 3 + Receiving stolen property . . . . . 3 + Larceny . . . . . . . 18 + Burglary . . . . . . . 7 + Shop-breaking, house-breaking, etc. . . . 19 + Uttering counterfeit coins . . . . . 1 + Threatening letters . . . . . . 4 + Threatening violence to superior officer. . 1 + Robbery with violence . . . . . . 3 + Manslaughter . . . . . . . 6 + Wounding with intent. . . . . . . 8 + Grievous bodily harm. . . . . . . 2 + Attempted murder . . . . . . . 1 + Wilful murder . . . . . . . . 7 + Rape . . . . . . . . . 5 + Carnal knowledge of little girls. . . . 8 + Arson . . . . . . . . . 15 + Cattle maiming . . . . . . . . 1 + Placing obstruction on railway . . . . 2 + Unnatural offences . . . . . . . 3 + +"During the year 35 convicts were certified insane; of these 27 were +removed to the criminal asylum at Parkhurst, 2 to Broadmoor asylum, 3 to +county or borough asylums, and 3 remained in the prison infirmary at the +end of the year. + +"The average length of the last sentences for which these unfortunates +were committed was seven years' penal servitude each. That their mental +condition was not temporary but permanent may be gathered from their +educational attainments, for 12 had no education at all, 18 were only in +Standard I, 29 in Standard II, 15 in Standard III, and 12 others were of +poor education." + +The statement that the average length of the last sentences of these +unfortunates was seven years' penal servitude is appalling. It ought to +astound us! But no one seems to care. Penal servitude is good enough +for them. Perhaps it is! But it ought to be called by another name, +and legally signify the inmates to be "patients," not criminals. Let us +visit a prison where we shall find a sufficient number of prisoners to +enable us to form an idea as to their physical and mental condition. + +Come, then, on Sunday morning into a famous prison that long stood as a +model to the world. We are going to morning service, when we shall have +an opportunity of seeing face to face eight hundred male prisoners. But +before we enter the chapel, let us walk round the hospital and see those +who are on the sick list. + +One look as we enter the ward convinced us that some are lying there +whose only chance of freedom is through the gates of death. + +In yonder corner lies a young man of twenty-one years; the governor +tells us that he is friendless, homeless, and a hopeless consumptive. He +says, "We would have sent him out, but he has nowhere to go, for he +does not know his parish, so he must lie here till he dies, unless his +sentence expires first." + +We speak to the young man a few kindly words, but he turns his face from +us, and of his history we learn nothing. + +On another bed we find an old man whose days also will be short; of +his history we learn much, for he has spent a great deal of his life in +prison, and now, aged, feeble and broken, there is nothing before him +but death or continued imprisonment. We pass by other beds on which +prisoners not so hopeless in health are lying. We see what is the matter +with most of them: they are not strong enough for ordinary prison work, +or indeed for any kind of vigorous labour. So they remain in prison well +tended in the hospital. But some of them pass into freedom without +the slightest ability or chance of getting a living otherwise than by +begging or stealing. + +What strikes us most about the inmates of the prison hospital is the +certainty that many of the prisoners have not sufficient health and +strength to enable them to be useful citizens. + +So we pass through the hospital into the chapel, and find eight hundred +prisoners before us. The organ plays, the morning service is read by the +chaplain; the prisoners sing, and as they sing there is such a volume of +sound that we cannot fail to be touched with it. + +We enter the pulpit, and as we stand and look down upon that sea of +upturned faces, we see a sight that is not likely to be forgotten. +There, in front of us, right underneath the pulpit, are rows of young +men under twenty-two years of age; we look at them; they are all clad in +khaki, and we take a mental sketch of them. + +One or two among them are finely developed young men, but the great +bulk we see are small in stature and weak in body. Some of them have +a hopeless expression of countenance that tells us of moral and mental +weakness. + +We note that most of them can have had but little chance in life, and +that their physical or mental infirmities come from no fault of their +own. They have all been to school; they have started in life, if it can +be called starting, as errand boys, paper sellers in the streets, or +as street merchants of some description. They have grown into early +manhood, but they have not increased in wisdom or stature. They have +learned no occupation, trade or handicraft; they have passed from school +age to early manhood without discipline, decent homes or technical +training. + +When at liberty their homes are lodging-houses or even less desirable +places. So they pass from the streets to the police, from police-courts +to prison, with positive regularity. + +They behave themselves in prison, they obey orders, they do the bit +of work that is required of them, they eat the food, and they sleep +interminable hours away. + +At the back of the young men we see row after row of older men, and +their khaki clothing and broad arrows produce a strange impression upon +us; but what impresses us most is the facial and physical appearance of +the prisoners. + +Cripples are there, twisted bodies are there, one-armed men are there, +and blind men are there. Here and there we see a healthy man, with +vigour and strength written on his face; but the great mass of faces +strikes us with dismay, and we feel at once that most of them are +handicapped In life, and demand pity rather than vengeance. + +We know that they are not as other men, and we realise that their +afflictions more than their sins are responsible for their presence in +that doleful assembly. + +Yet some of them are clever in crime, and many of them persistent in +wrong-doing, but their afflictions were neglected in days when those +afflictions should have been a passport to the pity and care of the +community. + +We see men who have grown old in different prisons, and we know that +position in social and industrial life is impossible for them. + +We see a number whom it is evident are not mentally responsible, for +whom there is no place but the workhouse or prison; yet we realise that, +old as they are, the day of liberty must come once more, and they will +be free to starve or steal! + +We know that there are some epileptics among them, and that their dread +complaint has caused them to commit acts of violence. + +We see among them men of education that have made war upon society. +Drunkards, too, are there, and we know that their overmastering passion +will demand gratification when once again the opportunity of indulging +in its presented to them. So we look at this strange mass of humanity, +and as we look a mist comes over our eyes, and we feel a choking +sensation in our throats. + +But we look again, and see that few throughout this great assembly show +any sense of sorrow or shame. As we speak to them of hope, gladness, of +manliness, and of the dignity of life, we feel that we are preaching to +an east wind. Come round the same prison with me on a week-day; in +one part we find a number of men seated about six feet from each other +making baskets; warders are placed on pedestals here and there to keep +oversight. + +We walk past them, and notice their slow movements and see hopelessness +written all over them. They are working "in association," they are +under "observation," which, the governor tells us, means that they are +suspected of either madness or mental deficiency. + +As we look at them we are quite satisfied that this suspicion is true, +and that, if not absolutely mad, they are mentally deficient. + +If absolute madness be detected, they will be sent to asylums. If +feeble-mindedness be proved, they will again be set at liberty. Their +names will be placed on a list, and they will be declared "unfit +for prison discipline," but nothing more will be done. They will be +discharged to prowl about in the underworld, to commit other criminal +acts and to be returned again and again to prison, to live out hopeless +lives. + +And there is another cause, almost as prolific in producing a prison +population. For while the State has been, and still is, ready to thrust +afflicted youth into prison, it has been, and still is, equally ready to +thrust into prison the half-educated, half-fed, and half-employed young +people who break its laws or by-laws. It is true that the State in its +irony allows them the option of a fine; but the law might as well ask +the youths of the underworld to pay ten pounds as ask them to pay ten +shillings; nor can they procure all at once the smaller sum, so to +prison hundreds of lads are sent. + +Does it ever occur to our esteemed authorities that this is a most +dangerous procedure! What good can possibly come either to the State or +to the youthful offender? + +What are the offences of these boys? Disorder in the streets, loitering +at railway stations, playing a game of chance called "pitch and toss," +of which I have something to say in another chapter, gambling with a +penny pack of cards, playing tip-cat, kicking a football, made of old +newspapers maybe, playing cricket, throwing stones, using a catapult, +bathing in a canal, and a hundred similar things are all deemed worthy +of imprisonment, if committed by the youngsters of the world below the +line. + +Thousands of lads have had their first experience of prison for +trumpery offences that are natural to the boys of the poor. But a first +experience of prison is to them a pleasant surprise. They are astonished +to find that prison is not "half a bad place." They do not object to +going there again, not they! Why? Because the conditions of prison life +are better, as they need to be, than the conditions of their own homes. +The food is better, the lodging is better, the bed is decidedly better, +and as to the work, why, they have none worthy of the name to do. They +lose nothing but their liberty, and they can stand that for a week or +two, what matters! + +Well, something does matter, for they lose three other things of +great moment to them if they only knew; but they don't know, and our +authorities evidently consider these three things of no moment. What do +they lose? First, their fear of prison; secondly, their little bit +of character; thirdly, their work, if they have any. What eventuates? +Idleness, hooliganism and repeated imprisonments for petty crime, until +something more serious happens, and then longer sentences. Such is the +progress of hundreds whom statisticians love to call "recidivists." + +Am I wrong when I say that the State has been too ready, too prompt in +sending the youths of the ignorant poor to prison? Am I wrong in saying +that the State has been playing its "trump ace" too soon, and that it +ought to have kept imprisonment up its sleeve a little longer? These +lads, having been in prison, know, and their companions know, too, the +worst that can happen to them when they commit real crime. Prison has +done its worst, and it cannot hurt them. + +If prisons there must be, am I wrong in contending that they should be +reserved for the perpetrators of real and serious crime; and that the +punishment, if there is to be punishment, should be certain, dignified +and severe, educational and reformative? At present it includes none of +these qualities. + +To such a length has the imprisonment of youths for trumpery offences +gone, not only in London, but throughout the country, that visiting +justices of my acquaintance have spent a great deal of money in part +paying the fines of youths imprisoned under such conditions, that they +might be released at once. Here we have a curious state of affairs, +magistrates generally committing youths to prison in default for +trumpery offences, and other magistrates searching prisons for +imprisoned youths, paying their fines, setting them free, and sending on +full details to the Home Secretary. + +It would be interesting to know how many "cases" of this kind have been +reported to the Home Secretary during the last few years. Time after +time the governors of our prisons have called attention to this evil in +their annual reports. They know perfectly well the disaster that attends +the needless imprisonment of boys, and it worries them. They treat +the boys very kindly, all honour to them! But even kindness to young +prisoners has its dangers, and every governor is able to tell of the +constant return of youthful prisoners. + +I do not like the "birch" or corporal punishment at all. I do not +advocate it, but I am certain that the demoralising effect of a few' +days' imprisonment is far in excess of the demoralisation that follows a +reasonable application of the birch. + +But the birch cannot be applied to lads over fourteen years of age, so +it would be well to abolish it altogether, except in special cases, +and for these the age might with advantage be extended. And, after all, +imprisonment itself is physical punishment and a continued assault +upon the body. But why imprison at all for such cases? We talk about +imprisonment for debt; this is imprisonment for debt with a vengeance. +Look! two lads are charged with one offence or two similar offences; +one boy is from the upperworld, the other from below the line. The same +magistrate fines the two boys an equal amount; the one boy pays, or +his friends pay; but the other goes of a certainty to prison. Is it not +absurd! rather, is it not unjust? + +But whether it is absurd or unjust the result is certain--mathematically +certain--in the development of a prison population. + +During my police-court days I have seen hundreds of youths sitting +crying in their cells consumed with fear, waiting their first experience +of prison; I have seen their terror when first entering the prison van, +and I know that when entering the prison portals their terror increased. +But it soon vanished, for I have never seen boys cry, or show any signs +of fear when going to prison for the second time. The reason for this +I have already given: "fear of the unknown" has been removed. This fear +may not be a very noble characteristic, but it is part of us, and it has +a useful place, especially where penalties are likely to be incurred. + +For many years I have been protesting against this needless imprisonment +of youths, and now it has become part of my duty to visit prisons and to +talk to youthful prisoners, I see the wholesale evil that attends this +method of dealing with youthful offenders. And the same evils attend, +though to perhaps a less degree, the prompt imprisonment of adults, who +are unable to pay forthwith fines that have been imposed upon them. + +It is always the poor, the very poor, the people below the line that +suffer in this direction. Doubtless they merit some correction, and the +magistrates consider that fines of ten shillings are appropriate, but +then they thoughtlessly add "or seven days." + +Think of the folly of it! because a man cannot pay a few shillings +down, the State conveys him to prison and puts the community to the +very considerable expense of keeping him. The law has fined him, but he +cannot pay then, so the law turns round and fines the community. + +What sense, decency, or profit can there possibly be in committing women +to prison, even for drunkenness, for three, five or seven days? How can +it profit either the State or the woman? It only serves to familiarise +her with prison. + +I could laugh at it, were it not so serious. Just look at this +absurdity! A woman gets drunk on Thursday, she is charged on Friday. +"Five shillings, or three days!" On Friday afternoon she enters prison, +for the clerk has made out a "commitment," and the gaoler has handed +her into the prison van. Her "commitment" is handed to the prison +authorities; it is tabulated, so is she; but at nine o'clock next +morning she is discharged from prison, for the law reckons every part of +a day to be a complete day; and the law also says that there must be no +discharge from prison on a Sunday, and to keep her till Monday would be +illegal, for it would be "four days." How small, how disastrous, and how +expensive it is! + +If offenders, young or old, must be punished, let them be punished +decently. If they ought to be sent to prison, to prison send them. +But if their petty offences can be expunged by the payment of a few +shillings, why not give them a little time to pay those fines? Such +a course would stop for ever the miserable, deadly round of short +expensive imprisonments. I have approached succeeding Home Secretaries +upon this matter till I am tired; succeeding Home Secretaries have sent +memorandums and recommendations to courts of summary jurisdiction till, +I expect, they are tired, for generally they have had no effect in +mitigating the evil. + +Magistrates have the power to grant time for the payment of fines, but +it is optional, not imperative. It is high time for a change, and surely +it will come, for the absurdity cannot continue. + +Surely every English man and woman who possesses a settled home ought +to have, and must have, the legal right of a few days' grace in which to +pay his or her fine. And every youthful offender ought to have the same +right, also, even if he paid by instalments. + +But at present it is so much easier, and therefore so much better, to +thrust the underworld, youthful and adult, into prison and have done +with them, than it is to pursue a sane but a little bit troublesome +method that would keep thousands of the poor from ever entering prison. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. UNEMPLOYED AND UNEMPLOYABLE + +My life has been one of activity; from an early age I have known what it +was to be constantly at work. To have the certainty of regular work, and +to have the discipline of constant duty, seem to me an ideal state +for mind and body. Labour, we are sometimes told, is one of God's +chastisements upon a fallen race; I believe it to be one of our choicest +blessings. I can conceive only one greater tragedy than the man who +has nothing to do, and that is the man who, earnestly longing for work, +seeks it day by day, and fails to find it. + +Imagine his position, and imagine also, if you possibly can, the great +qualities that are demanded if such a man is to go through a lengthened +period of unemployment without losing his dignity, his manhood and his +desire for work. + +I can tell at a glance the man who has had this experience. There is +something about his face that proclaims his hopelessness, the very +poise of his body and his peculiar measured step tell that his heart is +utterly unexpectant. To-morrow morning, and every morning, thousands +of men will rise early, even before the sun, and set out on their +weary tramp and hopeless search for work. To-morrow morning, and every +morning, thousands of men will be waiting at various dock-gates for a +chance of obtaining a few hours' hard work. And while these wait, others +tramp, seeking and asking for work. + +Wives may be ill at home, children may be wanting food and clothing, but +every day thousands of husbands set out on the interminable search for +work, and every day return disappointed. Small wonder that some of them +descend to a lower grade and in addition to being unemployed, become +unemployable. + +Look at those thousands of men clamouring daily at our dock-gates; about +one-half of them will obtain a few hours' hard work, but the other half +will go hopeless away. They will gather some courage during the night, +for the next morning they will find their way to, and be knocking once +more at, the same dock-gates. It takes sterling qualities to endure this +life, and there can be no greater hero than the man who goes through it +and still retains manhood. + +But it would be more than a miracle if tens of thousands of men could +live this life without many of them becoming wastrels, for it is certain +that a life of unemployment is dangerous to manhood, to character and +health. + +As a matter of fact the ranks of the utterly submerged are being +constantly recruited from the ranks of those who have but casual +work. During winter the existence of the unemployed is more amply +demonstrated, for then we are called upon to witness the most depressing +of all London's sights, a parade of the unemployed. I never see one +without experiencing strange and mixed emotions. Let me picture a +parade, for where I live they are numerous, and at least once a week one +will pass my window. + +I hear the doleful strains of a tin whistle accompanied with a +rub-a-dub-dub of a kettledrum that has known its best days, and whose +sound is as doleful as that of the whistle. I know what is coming, and, +though I have seen it many times, it has still a fascination for me, +so I stand at my window and watch. I see two men carrying a dilapidated +banner, on which is inscribed two words, "The Unemployed." The man with +the tin whistle and the man with the drum follow the banner, and behind +them is a company of men marching four abreast. Two policemen on the +pavement keep pace with the head of the procession, and two others +perform a similar duty at the end of it. + +On the pavement are a number of men with collecting boxes, ready to +receive any contribution that charitably inclined people may bestow. +They do not knock at any door, but they stand for a moment and rattle +their boxes in front of every window. + +The sound of the whistle and the drum, and the rattle of boxes is, +in all conscience, depressing enough, but one glimpse at the men is +infinitely more so. + +Most of them are below the average height and bulk. Their hands are in +their trousers pockets, their shoulders are up, but their heads are +bent downwards as if they were half ashamed of their job. A peculiar +slouching gait is characteristic of the whole company, and I look in +vain for a firm step, an upright carriage, and for some signs of alert +manhood. As they pass slowly by I see that some are old, but I also see +that the majority of them are comparatively young, and that many of them +cannot be more than thirty years of age. But whether young or old, I +am conscious of the fact that few of them are possessed of strength, +ability and grit. There are no artisans or craftsmen among them, and +stalwart labourers are not in evidence. + +Pitiful as the procession is, I know that it does not represent the +genuine and struggling unemployed. They pass slowly by and go from +street to street. So they will parade throughout the livelong day. The +police will accompany them, and will see them disbanded when the evening +closes in. The boxes will be emptied, the contents tabulated, and a pro +rata division will be made, after which the processionists will go home +and remain unemployed till the next weekly parade comes round. + +Unemployable! yes, but so much the greater pity; and so much more +difficult the problem, for they represent a very large class, and it is +to be feared a growing class of the manhood of London's underworld. + +We cannot blame them for their physical inferiority, nor for their lack +of ability and grit. To expect them to exhibit great qualities would +be absurd. They are what they are, and a wise country would ponder the +causes that lead to such decadent manhood. During my prison lectures +I have been frequently struck with the mean size and appearance of the +prisoners under twenty-two years of age, who are so numerous in our +London prisons. From many conversations with them I have learned that +lack of physical strength means also lack of mental and moral strength, +and lack of honest aspiration, too! I am confirmed in this judgment by +a statement that appeared in the annual report of the Prison +Commissioners, who state that some years ago they adapted the plan in +Pentonville prison of weighing and measuring all the prisoners under the +age of twenty-two. + +The result I will tell in their own words: "As a class they are +two-and-a-half inches below the average height of the general youthful +population of the same age, and weigh approximately fourteen pounds +less." + +Here, then, we have an official proof of physical decadence, and of its +connection with prison life. For these young men, so continuously +in prison, grow into what should be manhood without any desire or +qualification for robust industrial life. + +I never speak to them without feeling a deep pity. But as it is my +business to interest them, I try to learn something from them in return, +as the following illustration will show. + +I had been giving a course of lectures on industrial life to the young +prisoners in Wormwood Scrubbs, who numbered over three hundred. On my +last visit I interrogated them as follows-- + +"Stand up those of you that have had regular or continuous work." None +of them stood up! "Stand up those of you who have been apprentices." +None of them stood up! "Stand up those of you who sold papers in the +street before you left school." Twenty-five responded! "How many sold +other things in the streets before leaving school?" Thirty! Seventeen +others sold papers after leaving school, and thirty-eight sold various +articles. Altogether I found that nearly two hundred had been in street +occupations. + +To my final question: "How many of you have met me in other prisons?" +Thirty-five stood up! I give these particulars because I think my +readers will realise the bearing they have on unemployment. + +Surely it is obvious that if we continue to have a growing number of +physically inferior young men, who acquire no technical skill and have +not the slightest industrial training, that we shall continue to have an +increasing number of unemployed unemployables. + + +CHAPTER XIV. SUGGESTIONS + +I propose in this last chapter to make some suggestions, which, I +venture to hope, will be found worthy of consideration and adoption. + +The causes of so much misery, suffering and poverty in a rich and +self-governing country are numerous; and every cause needs a separate +consideration and remedy. + +There is no royal road by which the underworld people can ascend to +the upperworld; there can be no specific for healing all the sores from +which humanity suffers. + +Our complex civilisation, our industrial methods, our strange social +system, combined with the varied characteristics mental and physical +of individuals, make social salvation for the mass difficult and quite +impossible for many. + +I shall have written with very little effect if I have not shown what +some of these individual characteristics are. They are strange, powerful +and extraordinary. So very mixed, even in one individual, that while +sometimes they inspire hope, at others they provoke despair. + +If we couple the difficulties of individual character with the social, +industrial and economic difficulties, we see at once how great the +problem is. + +We must admit, and we ought frankly to admit the truth, and to face it, +that there exists a very large army of people that cannot be socially +saved. What is more important, they do not want to be saved, and will +not be saved if they can avoid it. Their great desire is to be left +alone, to be allowed to live where and how they like. + +For these people there must be, there will be, and at no far distant +date, detention, segregation and classification. We must let them +quietly die out, for it is not only folly, but suicidal folly to allow +them to continue and to perpetuate. + +But we are often told that "Heaven helps those who help themselves"; +in fact, we have been told it so often that we have come to believe it, +and, what is worse, we religiously or irreligiously act upon it when +dealing with those below the line. + +If any serious attempt is ever made to lessen the number of the homeless +and destitute, if that attempt is to have any chance of success, it +will, I am sure, be necessary to make an alteration in the adage and a +reversal of our present methods. + +If the adage ran, "Heaven helps those who cannot help themselves," and +if we all placed ourselves on the side of Heaven, the present abominable +and distressing state of affairs would not endure for a month. + +Now I charge it upon the State and local authorities that they avoid +their responsibilities to those who most sorely need their help, and +who, too, have the greatest claim upon their pity and protecting care. +Sometimes those claims are dimly recognised, and half-hearted efforts +are made to care for the unfortunate for a short space of time, and to +protect them for a limited period. + +But these attempts only serve to show the futility of the efforts, for +the unfortunates are released from protective care at the very time when +care and protection should become more effectual and permanent. + +It is comforting to know that we have in London special schools for +afflicted or defective children. Day by day hundreds of children are +taken to these schools, where genuine efforts are made to instruct them +and to develop their limited powers. But eight hundred children leave +these schools every year; in five years four thousand afflicted children +leave these schools. Leave the schools to live in the underworld of +London, and leave, too, just at the age when protection is urgently +needed. For adolescence brings new passions that need either control or +prohibition. + +I want my reader's imagination to dwell for a moment on these four +thousand defectives that leave our special schools every five years; +I want them to ask themselves what becomes of these children, and to +remember that what holds good with London's special schools, holds good +with regard to all other special schools our country over. + +These young people grow into manhood and womanhood without the +possibility of growing in wisdom or skill. Few, very few of them, +have the slightest chance of becoming self-reliant or self-supporting; +ultimately they form a not inconsiderable proportion of the hopeless. + +Philanthropic societies receive some of them, workhouses receive others, +but these institutions have not, nor do they wish to have, any power of +permanent detention, the cost would be too great. Sooner or later the +greater part of them become a costly burden upon the community, and +an eyesore to humanity. Many of them live nomadic lives, and make +occasional use of workhouses and similar institutions when the weather +is bad, after which they return to their uncontrolled existence. +Feeble-minded and defective women return again and again to the +maternity wards to deposit other burdens upon the ratepayers and to add +to the number of their kind. + +But the nation has begun to realise this costly absurdity of leaving +this army of irresponsibles in possession of uncontrolled liberty. The +Royal Commission on the Care and Control of the Feeble-minded, after +sitting for four years, has made its report. This report is a terrible +document and an awful indictment of our neglect. + +The commissioners tell us that on January 1st, 1906, there were in +England and Wales 149,628 idiots, imbeciles, and feeble-minded; in +addition there were on the same date 121,079 persons suffering from some +kind of insanity or dementia. So that the total number of those who came +within the scope of the inquiry was no less than 271,607, or 1 in every +120 of the whole population. + +Of the persons suffering from mental defect, i.e. feeble-minded, +imbeciles, etc., one-third were supported entirely at the public cost in +workhouses, asylums, prisons, etc. + +The report does not tell us much about the remaining two-thirds; but +those of us who have experience know only too well what becomes of them, +and are painfully acquainted with the hopelessness of their lives. + +Here, then, is my first suggestion--a national plan for the permanent +detention, segregation and control of all persons who are indisputably +feeble-minded. Surely this must be the duty of the State, for it is +impossible that philanthropic societies can deal permanently with them. + +We must catch them young; we must make them happy, for they have +capabilities for childlike happiness, and we must make their lives +as useful as possible. But we must no longer allow them the curse of +uncontrolled liberty. + +Again, no boy should be discharged from reformatory or industrial +schools as "unfit for training" unless passed on to some institution +suitable to his age and condition. If we have no such institutions, +as of course we have not, then the State must provide them. And the +magistrates must have the power to commit boys and girls who are charged +before them to suitable industrial schools or reformatories as freely, +as certainly, as unquestioned, and as definitely as they now commit them +to prison. + +At present magistrates have not this power, for though, as a matter +of course, these institutions receive numbers of boys and girls from +police-courts, the institutions have the power to Refuse, to grant +"licences" or to "discharge." So it happens that the meshes of the net +are large enough to allow those that ought to be detained to go free. + +No one can possibly doubt that a provision of this character would +largely diminish the number of those that become homeless vagrants. + +But I proceed to my second suggestion--the detention and segregation +of all professional tramps. If it is intolerable that an army of poor +afflicted human beings should live homeless and nomadic lives, it +is still more intolerable that an army of men and women who are not +deficient in intelligence, and who are possessed of fairly healthy +bodies should, in these days, be allowed to live as our professional +tramps live. + +I have already spoken of the fascination attached to a life of +irresponsible liberty. The wind on the heath, the field and meadow +glistening with dew or sparkling with flowers, the singing of the bird, +the joy of life, and no rent day coming round, who would not be a tramp! +Perhaps our professional tramps think nothing of these things, for +to eat, to sleep, to be free of work, to be uncontrolled, to have no +anxieties, save the gratification of animal demands and animal passions, +is the perfection of life for thousands of our fellow men and women. + +Is this kind of life to be permitted? Every sensible person will surely +say that it ought not to be permitted. Yet the number of people who +attach themselves to this life continually increases, for year by year +the prison commissioners tell us that the number of persons imprisoned +for vagrancy, sleeping out, indecency, etc., continues to increase, and +that short terms of imprisonment only serve as periods of recuperation +for them, for in prison they are healed of their sores and cleansed from +their vermin. + +With every decent fellow who tramps in search of work we must have the +greatest sympathy, but for professional tramps we must provide very +simply. Most of these men, women and children find their way into +prison, workhouses and casual wards at some time or other. When the man +gets into prison, the woman and children go into the nearest workhouse. +When the man is released from prison he finds the woman and children +waiting for him, and away they go refreshed and cleansed by prison and +workhouse treatment. + +We must stop for ever this costly and disastrous course of life. How? +By establishing in every county and under county authorities, or, if +necessary, by a combination of counties, special colonies for vagrants, +one for males and another for females. Every vagrant who could not give +proof that he had some definite object in tramping must be committed to +these colonies and detained, till such time as definite occupation or +home be found for him. + +Here they should live and work, practically earning their food and +clothing; their lives should be made clean and decent, and certainly +economical. For these colonies there must be of course State aid. + +The children must be adopted by the board of guardians or education +authorities and trained in small homes outside the workhouse gates this +should be compulsory. + +These two plans would certainly clear away the worst and most hopeless +tribes of nomads, and though for a short time they would impose +considerable pecuniary obligations upon us, yet we should profit even +financially in the near future, and, best of all, should prevent a +second generation arising to fill the place of those detained. + +The same methods should be adopted with the wretched mass of humanity +that crowds nightly on the Thames Embankment. Philanthropy is worse than +useless with the great majority of these people. Hot soup in the small +hours of a cold morning is doubtless comforting to them, and if the +night is wet, foggy, etc., a cover for a few hours is doubtless a +luxury. They drink the soup, they take advantage of the cover, and go +away, to return at night for more soup and still another cover. Oh, the +folly of it all! + +We must have shelters for them, but the County Council must provide +them. Large, clean and healthy places into which, night by night, the +human derelicts from the streets should be taken by special police. + +But there should be no release with the morning light, but detention +while full inquiries are made regarding them. Friends would doubtless +come forward to help many, but the remainder should be classified +according to age and physical and mental condition, and released only +when some satisfactory place or occupation is forthcoming for them. + +The nightly condition of the Embankment is not only disgraceful, but it +is dangerous to the health and wellbeing of the community. + +It is almost inconceivable that we should allow those parts of London +which are specially adapted for the convenience of the public to be +monopolised by a mass of diseased and unclean humanity. If we would +but act sensibly with these classes, I am sure we could then deal in an +effectual manner with that portion of the nomads for whom there is hope. + +If the vast amount of money that is poured out in the vain effort to +help those whom it is impossible to help was devoted to those that are +helpable, the difficulty would be solved. + +So I would suggest, and it is no new suggestion, that all philanthropic +societies that deal with the submerged should unite and co-ordinate +with the authorities. That private individuals who have money, time +or ability at their command should unite with them. That one great +all-embracing organisation, empowered and aided by the State, should +be formed, to which the man, woman or family that is overtaken or +overwhelmed by misfortune could turn in time of their need with the +assurance that their needs would be sympathetically considered and their +requirements wisely attended to. + +An organisation of this description would prevent tens of thousands from +becoming vagrants, and a world of misery and unspeakable squalor would +be prevented. + +The recent Report on the Poor Law foreshadows an effort of this +description, and in Germany this method is tried with undoubted success. + +Some day we shall try it, but that day will not come till we have +realised how futile, how expensive our present methods are. The Poor +Law system needs recasting. Charity must be divorced from religion. +Philanthropic and semi-religious organisations must be separated from +their commercial instincts and commercial greed. The workhouse, the +prison, the Church Army and the Salvation Army's shelters and labour +homes must no longer form the circle round which so many hopelessly +wander. + +No man or set of men must be considered the saviour of the poor, and +though much knowledge will be required, it perhaps will be well not to +have too much. + +Above all, the desire to prevent, rather than the desire to restore, +must be the aim of the organisation which should embrace every parish in +our land. + +Finally, and in a few words, my methods would be detention and +protective care for the afflicted or defective, detention and +segregation for the tramps, and a great charitable State-aided +organisation to deal with the unfortunate. + +Tramps we shall continue to have, but there need be nothing degrading +about them, if only the professional element can be eliminated. + +Labour exchanges are doing a splendid work for the genuine working man +whose labour must often be migratory. But every labour exchange should +have its clean lodging-house, in which the decent fellows who want +work, and are fitted for work, may stay for a night, and thus avoid the +contamination attending the common lodging-houses or the degradation and +detention attending casual wards. + +There exists, I am sure, great possibilities for good in labour +exchanges, if, and if only, their services can be devoted to the +genuinely unemployed. + +Already I have said they are doing much, and one of the most useful +things they do is the advancement of rail-fares to men when work is +obtained at a distance. A development in this direction will do much +to end the disasters that attend decent fellows when they go on tramp. +Migratory labour is unfortunately an absolute necessity, for our +industrial and commercial life demand it, and almost depend upon it. +The men who supply that want are quite as useful citizens as the men +who have permanent and settled work. But their lives are subject to +many dangers, temptations, and privations from which they ought to be +delivered. + +The more I reflect upon the present methods for dealing with +professional tramps, the more I am persuaded that these methods are +foolish and extravagant. But the more I reflect on the life of the +genuinely unemployed that earnestly desire work and are compelled +to tramp in search of it, the more I am persuaded that such life is +attended by many dangers. The probability being that if the tramp and +search be often repeated or long-continued, the desire for, and the +ability to undergo, regular work will disappear. + +But physical and mental inferiority, together with the absence of moral +purpose, have a great deal to say with regard to the number of our +unemployed. + +If you ask me the source of this stunted manhood, I point you to the +narrow streets of the underworld. Thence they issue, and thence alone. + +Do you ask the cause? The causes are many! First and foremost stands +that all-pervading cause--the housing of the poor. Who can enumerate +the thousands that have breathed the fetid air of the miserable +dwelling-places in our slums? Who dare picture how they live and sleep, +as they lie, unripe sex with sex, for mutual taint? I dare not, and if I +did no publisher could print it. + +Who dare describe the life of a mother-wife, whose husband and children +have become dependent upon her earnings! I dare not! Who dare describe +the exact life and doings of four families living in a little house +intended for one family? Who can describe the life, speech, actions +and atmosphere of such places? I cannot, for the task would be too +disgusting! + +For tens of thousands of people are allowed, or compelled, to live and +die under those conditions. How can vigorous manhood or pure womanhood +come out of them? Ought we to expect, have we any right to expect, +manhood and womanhood born and bred under such conditions to be other +than blighted? + +Whether we expect it or not matters but little, for we have this mass +of blighted humanity with us, and, like an old man of the sea, it is a +burden upon our back, a burden that is not easily got rid of. + +What are we doing with this burden in the present? How are we going +to prevent it in the future? are two serious questions that must be +answered, and quickly, too, or something worse will happen to us. + +The authorities must see to it at once that children shall have as much +air and breathing space in their homes by night as they have in the +schools by day. + +What sense can there be in demanding and compelling a certain amount +of air space in places where children are detained for five and a half +hours, and then allow those children to stew in apologies for rooms, +where the atmosphere is vile beyond description, and where they are +crowded indiscriminately for the remaining hours? + +This is the question of the day and the hour. Drink, foreign invasion, +the House of Lords or the House of Commons, Tariff Reform or Free Trade, +none of these questions, no, nor the whole lot of them combined, compare +for one moment in importance with this one awful question. + +Give the poor good airy housing at a reasonable rent, and half the +difficulties against which our nation runs its thick head would +disappear. Hospitals and prisons would disappear too as if by magic, for +it is to these places that the smitten manhood finds its way. + +I know it is a big question! But it is a question that has got to be +solved, and in solving it some of our famous and cherished notions will +have to go. Every house, no matter to whom it belongs, or who holds the +lease, who lets or sub-lets, every inhabited house must be licensed by +the local authorities for a certain number of inmates, so many and no +more; a maximum, but no minimum. + +Local authorities even now have great powers concerning construction, +drains, etc. Let them now be empowered to make stringent rules about +habitations other than their municipal houses. The piggeries misnamed +lodging-houses, the common shelters, etc., are inspected and licensed +for a certain number of inmates; it is high time that this was done with +the wretched houses in which the poor live. + +Oh, the irony of it! Idle tramps must not be crowded, but the children +of the poor may be crowded to suffocation. This must surely stop; if +not, it will stop us! Again I say, that local authorities must have +the power to decide the number of inhabitants that any house shall +accommodate, and license it accordingly, and of course have legal power +to enforce their decision. + +The time has come for a thorough investigation. I would have every room +in every house visited by properly appointed officers. I would have +every detail as to size of room, number of persons and children, rent +paid, etc., etc.; I would have its conditions and fitness for human +habitation inquired into and reported upon. + +I would miss no house, I would excuse none. A standard should be set as +to the condition and position of every house, and the number it might be +allowed to accommodate. This would bring many dark things into the light +of day, and I am afraid the reputation of many respectable people would +suffer, and their pockets too, although they tell us that they "have but +a life-interest" in the pestiferous places. But if we drive people out +of these places, where will they go? + +Well, out they must go! and it is certain that there is at present no +place for them! + +Places must be prepared for them, and local authorities must prepare +them. Let them address themselves to this matter and no longer shirk +their duty with regard to the housing of the poor. Let them stop for +ever the miserable pretence of housing the poor that they at present +pursue. For be it known that they house "respectable" people only, those +that have limited families and can pay a high rental. + +If local authorities cannot do it, then the State must step in and +help them, for it must be done. It seems little use waiting for private +speculation or philanthropic trusts to show us the way in this matter, +for both want and expect too high an interest for their outlay. But a +good return will assuredly be forthcoming if the evil be tackled in a +sensible way. + +Let no one be downhearted about new schemes for housing the poor not +paying! Why, everything connected with the poor from the cradle to the +grave is a source of good profit to some one, if not to themselves. + +Let a housing plan be big enough and simple enough, and I am certain +that it will pay even when it provides for the very poor. But old ideals +will have to be forsaken and new ones substituted. + +I have for many years considered this question very deeply, and from +the side of the very poor. I think that I know how the difficulty can +be met, and I am prepared to place my suggestions for housing the poor +before any responsible person or authority who would care to consider +the matter. + +Perhaps it is due to the public to say here that one of the greatest +sorrows of my life was my inability to make good a scheme that a rich +friend and myself formulated some years ago. This failure was due to the +serious illness of my friend, and I hope that it will yet materialise. + +But, in addition to the housing, there are other matters which affect +the vigour and virility of the poor. School days must be extended till +the age of sixteen. Municipal playgrounds open in the evening must be +established. If boys and girls are kept at school till sixteen, older +and weaker people will be able to get work which these boys have, but +ought not to have. The nation demands a vigorous manhood, but the nation +cannot have it without some sacrifice, which means doing without child +labour, for child labour is the destruction of virile manhood. + +Emigration is often looked upon as the great specific. But the +multiplication of agencies for exporting the young, the healthy, and +the strong to the colonies causes me some alarm. For emigration as at +present conducted certainly does not lessen the number of the unfit and +the helpless. + +It must be apparent to any one who thinks seriously upon this matter +that a continuance of the present methods is bound to entail disastrous +consequences, and to promote racial decay at home. The problem of the +degenerates, the physical and mental weaklings is already a pressing +national question. But serious as the question is at the present moment, +it is but light in its intensity compared with what it must be in +the near future, unless we change our methods. One fact ought to +be definitely understood and seriously pondered, and it is this: no +emigration agency, no board of guardians, no church organisation and no +human salvage organisation emigrates or assists to emigrate young +people of either sex who cannot pass a severe medical examination and +be declared mentally and physically sound. This demands serious thought; +for the puny, the weak and the unfit are ineligible; our colonies will +have none of them, and perhaps our colonies are wise, so the unfit +remain at home to be our despair and affliction. + +But our colonies demand not only physical and mental health, but moral +health also, for boys and girls from reformatory and industrial schools +are not acceptable; though the training given in these institutions +ought to make the young people valuable assets in a new country. + +The serious fact that only the best are exported and that all the +afflicted and the weak remain at home is, I say, worthy of profound +attention. + +Thousands of healthy working men with a little money and abundant grit +emigrate of their own choice and endeavour. Fine fellows they generally +are, and good fortune attends them! Thousands of others with no money +but plenty of strength are assisted "out," and they are equally good, +while thousands of healthy young women are assisted "out" also. All +through the piece the strong and healthy leave our shores, and the +weaklings are left at home. + +It is always with mixed feelings that I read of boys and girls being +sent to Canada, for while I feel hopeful regarding their future, I know +that the matter does not end with them; for I appreciate some of the +evils that result to the old country from the method of selection. + +Emigration, then, as at present conducted, is no cure for the evil it +is supposed to remedy. Nay, it increases the evil, for it secures to our +country an ever-increasing number of those who are absolutely unfitted +to fulfil the duties of citizenship. + +Yet emigration might be a beneficent thing if it were wisely conducted +on a comprehensive basis, which should include a fair proportion of +those that are now excluded because of their unfitness. + +Are we to go on far ever with our present method of dealing with those +who have been denied wisdom and stature? Who are what they are, but +whose disabilities cannot be charged upon themselves, and for whom there +is no place other than prison or workhouse? + +Yet many of them have wits, if not brains, and are clever in little +ways of their own. At home we refuse them the advantages that are +solicitously pressed upon their bigger and stronger brothers. Abroad +every door is locked against them. What are they to do? The Army and +Navy will have none of them! and industrial life has no place for them. +So prison, workhouse and common lodging-houses are their only homes. + +Wise emigration methods would include many of them, and decent fellows +they would make if given a chance. Oxygen and new environment, with +plenty of food, etc., would make an alteration in their physique, and +regular work would prove their salvation. But this matter should, and +must be, undertaken by the State, for philanthropy cannot deal with it; +and when the State does undertake it, consequences unthought-of will +follow, for the State will be able to close one-half of its prisons. + +It is the helplessness of weaklings that provides the State with more +than half its prisoners. Is it impossible, I would ask, for a Government +like ours, with all its resources of wealth, power and influence to +devise and carry out some large scheme of emigration? If colonial +governments wisely refuse our inferior youths, is it not unwise for our +own Government to neglect them? + +In the British Empire is there no idle land that calls for men and +culture? Here we in England have thousands of young fellows who, because +of their helplessness, are living lives of idleness and wrongdoing. + +Time after time these young men find their way into prison, and every +short sentence they undergo sends them back to liberty more hopeless +and helpless. Many of them are not bad fellows; they have some qualities +that are estimable, but they are undisciplined and helpless. Not all the +discharged prisoners' aid societies in the land, even with Government +assistance, can procure reasonable and progressive employment for them. + +The thought of thousands of young men, not criminals, spending their +lives in a senseless and purposeless round of short imprisonments, +simply because they are not quite as big and as strong as their +fellows, fills me with wonder and dismay, for I can estimate some of the +consequences that result. + +Is it impossible, I would ask, for our Government to take up this matter +in a really great way? Can no arrangement be made with our colonies for +the reception and training of these young fellows? Probably not so long +as the colonies can secure an abundance of better human material. But +has a bona-fide effort been made in this direction? I much doubt it +since the days of transportation. + +Is it not possible for our Government to obtain somewhere in the whole +of its empire a sufficiency of suitable land, to which the best of them +may be transplanted, and on which they may be trained for useful service +and continuous work? + +Is it not possible to develop the family system for them, and secure +a sufficient number of house fathers and mothers to care for them in a +domestic way, leaving their physical and industrial training to others? +Very few know these young fellows better than myself, and I am bold +enough to say that under such conditions the majority of them would +prove useful men. + +Surely a plan of this description would be infinitely better than +continued imprisonments for miserable offences, and much less expensive, +too! + +I am very anxious to emphasise this point. The extent of our prison +population depends upon the treatment these young men receive at the +hands of the State. + +So long as the present treatment prevails, so long will the State be +assured of a permanent prison population. + +But the evil does not end with the continuance and expense of prison. +The army of the unfit is perpetually increased by this procedure. +Very few of these young men--I think I may say with safety, none +of them--after three or four convictions become settled and decent +citizens; for they cannot if they would, there is no opportunity. They +would not if they could, for the desire is no longer existent. + +We have already preventive detention for older persons, who, having +been four times convicted of serious crime, are proved to be "habitual +criminals." But hopeless as the older criminals are, the country is +quite willing to adopt such measures and bear such expense as may be +thought requisite for the purpose of detaining, and perchance reforming +them. + +But the young men for whom I now plead are a hundred times more numerous +and a hundred times more hopeful than the old habitual criminals, whose +position excites so much attention. We must have an oversea colony for +these young men, and an Act of Parliament for the "preventive detention" +of young offenders who are repeatedly convicted. + +A third conviction should ensure every homeless offender the certainty +of committal to the colony. This would stop for ever the senseless short +imprisonment system, for we could keep them free of prison till their +third conviction, when they should only be detained pending arrangement +for their emigration. + +The more I think upon this matter the more firmly I am convinced that +nothing less will prevail. Though, of course, even with this plan, the +young men who are hopelessly afflicted with disease or deformity must +be excluded. For them the State must make provision at home, but not in +prison. + +A scheme of this character, if once put into active and thorough +operation, would naturally work itself out, for year by year the number +of young fellows to whom it would apply would grow less and less; but +while working itself out, it would also work out the salvation of many +young men, and bring lasting benefits upon our country. + +Vagrancy, with its attendant evils, would be greatly diminished, many +prisons would be closed, workhouses and casual wards would be less +necessary. The cost of the scheme would be more than repaid to the +community by the savings effected in other ways. The moral effect also +would be equally large, and the physical effects would be almost past +computing, for it would do much to arrest the decay of the race that +appears inseparable from our present conditions and procedure. + +But the State must do something more than this; for many young habitual +offenders are too young for emigration. For them the State reformatories +must be established, regardless of their physical condition. To these +reformatories magistrates must have the power of committal as certainly +as they have the power of committal to prison. There must be no "by your +leave," no calling in a doctor to examine the offender. But promptly +and certainly when circumstances justify the committal to a State +reformatory, the youthful offender should go. With the certainty that, +be his physique and intellect what they may, he would be detained, +corrected and trained for some useful life. Or, if found "quite unfit" +or feeble-minded, sent to an institution suitable to his condition. + +Older criminals, when proved to be mentally unsound, are detained in +places other than prisons till their health warrants discharge. But +the potential criminals among the young, no matter how often they are +brought before the courts, are either sent back to hopeless liberty or +thrust into prison for a brief period. + +I repeat that philanthropy cannot attempt to deal with the habitual +offenders, either in the days of their boyhood or in their early +manhood. For philanthropy can at the most deal with but a few, and those +few must be of the very best. + +I cannot believe that our colonies would refuse to ratify the +arrangement that I have outlined, if they were invited to do so by our +own Government, and given proper security. They owe us something; we +called them into existence, we guarantee their safety, they receive +our grit, blood and money; will they not receive, then, under proper +conditions and safeguards, some of our surplus youth, even if it be +weak? I believe they will! + +In the strictures that I have ventured to pass upon the methods of the +Salvation Army, I wish it to be distinctly understood that I make +no attack upon the character and intentions of the men and women who +compose it. I know that they are both earnest and sincere. For many of +them I have a great admiration. My strictures refer to the methods and +the methods only. + +For long years I have been watchful of results, and I have been so +placed in life that I have had plenty of opportunities for seeing and +learning. My disappointment has been great, for I expected great things. +Many other men and women whose judgment is entitled to respect believe +as I do. But they remain silent, hoping that after all great good may +come. But I must speak, for I believe the methods adopted are altogether +unsound, and in reality tend to aggravate the evils they set out to +cure. In 1900 I ventured to express the following opinion of shelters-- + +"EXTRACTS FROM 'PICTURES AND PROBLEMS' + +"I look with something approaching dismay at the multiplication of +these institutions throughout the length and breadth of our land. To +the loafing vagrant class, a very large class, I know, but a class not +worthy of much consideration, they are a boon. These men tramp from one +town to another, and a week or two in each suits them admirably, till +the warm weather and light nights arrive, and then they are off. + +"This portion of the 'submerged' will always be submerged till some +power takes hold of them and compels them to work out their own +salvation. + +"But there is such a procession of them that the labour homes, etc., get +continual recruits, and the managers are enabled to contract for a great +deal of unskilled work. + +"In all our large towns there are numbers of self-respecting men, men +who have committed no crime, save the unpardonable crime of growing +old. Time was when such men could get odd clerical work, envelope and +circular addressing, and a variety of light but irregular employment, +at which, by economy and the help of their wives, they made a sort of +living. But these men are now driven to the wall, for their poorly paid +and irregular work is taken from them." + +In 1911 A. M. Nicholl, in his not unfriendly book on GENERAL BOOTH +AND THE SALVATION ARMY, makes the following statement, which I make no +apology for reproducing. + +His judgment, considering the position he held with the Army for so many +years, is worthy of consideration. Here are some of his words-- + +"From an economic standpoint the social experiment of the Salvation +Army stands condemned almost root and branch. So much the worse for +economics, the average Salvation Army officer will reply. But at the +end of twenty years the Army cannot point to one single cause of social +distress that it has removed, or to one single act which it has promoted +that has dealt a death-blow at one social evil.... + +"A more serious question, one which lies at the root of all +indiscriminate charity, is the value to the community of these shelters. +So far as the men in the shelters are benefited by them, they do +not elevate them, either physically or morally. A proportion--what +proportion?--are weeded out, entirely by the voluntary action of the +men themselves, and given temporary work, carrying sandwich-boards, +addressing envelopes, sorting paper, etc.; but the cause of their +social dilapidation remains unaltered. They enter the shelter, pay their +twopence or fourpence as the case may be (and few are allowed to enter +unless they do), they listen to some moral advice once a week, with +which they are surfeited inside and outside the shelter, they go to bed, +and next morning leave the shelter to face the streets as they came in, +The shelter gets no nearer to the cause of their depravity than it does +to the economic cause of their failure, or to the economic remedy which +the State must eventually introduce.... + +"The nomads of our civilisation wander past us in their fringy, dirty +attire night by night. If a man stops us in the streets and tells us +that he is starving, and we offer him a ticket to a labour home or a +night shelter, he will tell you that the chances are one out of ten if +he will procure admission. The better class of the submerged, or those +who use the provision for the submerged in order to gratify their own +selfishness, have taken possession of the vacancies, and so they wander +on. If a man applies for temporary work, the choice of industry +is disappointingly limited. One is tempted to think that the +whole superstructure of cheap and free shelters has tended to the +standardisation of a low order of existence in this netherworld that +attracted the versatile philanthropist at the head of the Salvation Army +twenty years ago.... + +"The general idea about the Salvation Army is, that the nearer it gets +to the most abandoned classes, the more wonderful and the more numerous +are the converts. It is a sad admission to pass on to the world that the +opposite is really the case. The results are fewer. General Booth would +almost break his heart if he knew the proportion of men who have been +'saved,' in the sense that he most values, through his social scheme. +But he ought to know, and the Church and the world ought to know, and in +order that it may I will make bold to say that the officials cannot put +their hands on the names of a thousand men in all parts of the world who +are to-day members of the Army who were converted at the penitent form +of shelters and elevators, who are now earning a living outside the +control of the Army's social work." + +But the public appear to have infinite faith in the multiplication and +enlargement of these shelters, as the following extract from a daily +paper of December 1911 will show-- + +"'Since the days of Mahomet, not forgetting St. Francis and Martin +Luther, I doubt if there is any man who has started, without help from +the Government, such a world-wide movement as this.' + +"This was Sir George Askwith's tribute to General Booth and the +Salvation Army at the opening of the new wing of the men's Elevators +in Spa Road, Bermondsey, yesterday afternoon. The task of declaring the +wing open devolved upon the Duke of Argyll, who had beside him on the +platform the Duchess of Marlborough, Lady St. Davids, Lord Armstrong, +Sir Daniel and Lady Hamilton, Alderman Sir Charles C. Wakefield, Sir +Edward Clarke, K.C., Sir George Askwith, and the Mayor of Bermondsey and +General Booth. + +"The General, who is just back from Denmark, spoke for three-quarters +of an hour, notwithstanding his great age and his admission that he was +'far from well.' The Elevator, as its name implies, seeks to raise men +who are wholly destitute and give them a fresh start. The new wing has +been erected at a cost of L10,000, and the Elevator, which accommodates +590 men and covers two-and-a-half acres, represents an expenditure of +L30,000, and is the largest institution of its kind in the world. + +"'The men,' said the General, 'are admitted on two conditions only, that +they are willing to obey orders, and ready to work. Before he has his +breakfast a man must earn it, and the same with each meal, the ticket +given him entitling him to remuneration in proportion to the work he has +done. If the men's conduct is good, they are passed on to another of +the Army's institutions, and ultimately some post is secured for them +through the employers of labour with whom the Army is in touch.'" + +I believe General Booth to be sincere, and that he believes exactly what +he stated. But even sincerity must not be allowed to mislead a generous +public. Employers of labour do not, cannot, and will not keep positions +open for General Booth or any other man. Employers require strong, +healthy men who can give value for the wages paid. Thousands of men who +have never entered shelters or prison are not only available but eager +for positions that show any prospect of permanence, whether the work be +heavy or skilled. For work that requires neither brains, skill or much +physical strength, thousands of men whose characters are good are also +available. I venture to say that General Booth cannot supply the public +with a reasonable list of men who, having passed through the shelters, +have been put into permanent work. + +For every man and woman who is seeking to uplift their fellows I have +heartfelt sympathy. For every organisation that is earnestly seeking to +alleviate or remove social evils I wish abundant success. Against the +organisations named I have not the slightest feeling. If they were +successful in the work they undertake, no one in England would rejoice +more than myself. But they are not successful, and because I believe +that their claim to success blinds a well-intentioned and generous +public, and prevents real consideration of deep-seated evils, I make +these comments and give the above extracts. + +I question whether any one in London knows better than myself the +difficulty of finding employment for a man who is "down," for I have +written hundreds of letters, I have visited numerous employers for this +one purpose; I have begged and pleaded with employers, sometimes I have +offered "security" for the honesty of men for whom I was concerned. + +Occasionally, but only occasionally, was I successful. I have advertised +on men's behalf frequently, but nothing worthy of the name of "work" has +resulted. I know the mind of employers, and I know their difficulties; I +have been too often in touch with them not to know. I have also been in +touch with many men who have been in the shelters, elevators, bridges, +labour homes and tents; I know their experience has been one +of disappointment. I have written on behalf of such men to the +"head-quarters," but nothing has resulted but a few days' work at +wood-chopping, envelope addressing, or bill distributing, none of which +can be called employment. + +Day after day men who have been led to expect work wait, and wait in +vain, in or about the head-quarters for the promised work that so +rarely comes. For these men I am concerned, for them I am bold enough to +risk the censure of good people, for I hold that it is not only cruel, +but wicked to excite in homeless men hopes that cannot possibly be +realised. + +This point has been driven home to my very heart, for I have seen +what comes to pass when the spark of hope is extinguished. Better, far +better, that a man who is "down" should trust to his own exertions and +rely upon himself than entertain illusions and rely upon others. + +And now I close by presenting in catalogue form some of the steps that +I believe to be necessary for dealing with the terrible problems of our +great underworld. + +First: the permanent detention and segregation of all who are classified +as feeble-minded. Second: the permanent detention and segregation of all +professional tramps. Third: proper provision for men and women who +are hopelessly crippled or disabled. Fourth: establishment by the +educational authorities, or by the State of reformatory schools, +for youthful delinquents and juvenile adults regardless of physical +weakness, deprivations or disease. Fifth: compulsory education, +physical, mental and technical, up to sixteen years of age. Sixth: the +establishment of municipal play-grounds and organised play for youths +who have left school. Seventh: national and State-aided emigration +to include the best of the "unfit." Eighth: the abolition of common +lodging-houses, and the establishment of municipal lodging-houses for +men and also for women. Ninth: the establishment of trade boards for all +industries. Tenth: proper and systematic help for widows who have young +children. Eleventh: thorough inspection and certification by local +authorities of all houses and "dwellings" inhabited by the poor. +Twelfth: housing for the very poor by municipal authorities, with +abolition of fire-places, the heating to be provided from one central +source. The housing to include a restaurant where nourishing but +simple food may be obtained for payment that ensures a small profit. +Thirteenth: more abundant and reasonable provision of work by the State, +local authorities and for the unemployed. Fourteenth: a co-ordination +of all philanthropic and charity agencies to form one great society with +branches in every parish. + +Give us these things, and surely they are not impossible, and half +our present expensive difficulties would disappear. Fewer prisons, +workhouses and hospitals would be required. The need for shelters and +labour homes would not exist. The necessity for the activities of +many charitable agencies whose constant appeals are so disturbing and +puzzling, but whose work is now required, would pass away too. + +But with all these things given, there would be still great need for the +practice of kindness and the development of brotherly love. For without +brotherly love and kindly human interest, laws are but cast-iron rules, +and life but a living death. What is life worth? What can life be worth +if it be only self-centred? To love is to live! to feel and take an +interest in others is to be happy indeed, and to feel the pulses thrill. + +And I am sure that love is abundant in our old country, but it is +largely paralysed and mystified. For many objects that love would fain +accomplish appear stupendous and hopeless. What a different old +England we might have, if the various and hopeless classes that I have +enumerated were permanently detained. For then love would come to +its own, the real misfortunes of life would then form a passport to +practical help. Widows would no longer be unceremoniously kicked into +the underworld; accidents and disablements would no longer condemn men +and women to live lives of beggary. Best of all, charitable and +kindly deeds would no longer be done by proxy. It is because I see how +professional and contented beggary monopolises so much effort and costs +so much money; because I see how it deprives the really unfortunate and +the suffering poor of the practical help that would to them be such a +blessed boon, that I am anxious for its days to be ended. May that day +soon come, for when it comes, there will be some chance of love and +justice obtaining deliverance for the oppressed and deserving poor who +abound in London's dark underworld. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of London's Underworld, by Thomas Holmes + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1420 *** diff --git a/1420-h/1420-h.htm b/1420-h/1420-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a489e6 --- /dev/null +++ b/1420-h/1420-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7992 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + London's Underworld, by Thomas Holmes + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1420 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Thomas Holmes + </h2> + <h4> + (Secretary of the Howard Association) + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h5> + 1912 + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + I am hopeful that some of the experiences given in the following chapters + may throw a little light upon some curious but very serious social + problems. Corporate humanity always has had, and always will have, serious + problems to consider. + </p> + <p> + The more civilised we become the more complex and serious will be our + problems—unless sensible and merciful yet thorough methods are + adopted for dealing with the evils. I think that my pages will show that + the methods now in use for coping with some of our great evils do not + lessen, but considerably increase the evils they seek to cure. + </p> + <p> + With great diffidence I venture to point out what I conceive to be reasons + for failure, and also to offer some suggestions that, if adopted, will, I + believe, greatly minimise, if not remove, certain evils. + </p> + <p> + I make no claim to prophetic wisdom; I know no royal road to social + salvation, nor of any specific to cure all human sorrow and smart. + </p> + <p> + But I have had a lengthened and unique experience. I have closely + observed, and I have deeply pondered. I have seen, therefore I ask that + the experiences narrated, the statements made, and the views expressed in + this book may receive earnest consideration, not only from those who have + the temerity to read it, but serious consideration also from our Statesmen + and local authorities, from our Churches and philanthropists, from our men + of business and from men of the world. + </p> + <p> + For truly we are all deeply concerned in the various matters which are + dealt with in "London's Underworld." + </p> + <p> + THOMAS HOLMES. + </p> + <p> + 12, Bedford Road, + </p> + <p> + Tottenham, N. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h4> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </h4> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE NOMADS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + LODGING-HOUSES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + FURNISHED APARTMENTS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DISABLED + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + WOMEN IN THE UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARRIAGE IN THE UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + BRAINS IN THE UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + PLAY IN THE UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + ON THE VERGE OF THE UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + IN PRISONS OFT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + UNEMPLOYED AND UNEMPLOYABLE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + SUGGESTIONS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + </h2> + <p> + The odds and ends of humanity, so plentiful in London's great city, have + for many years largely constituted my circle of friends and acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + They are strange people, for each of them is, or was, possessed of some + dominating vice, passion, whim or weakness which made him incapable of + fulfilling the ordinary duties of respectable citizenship. + </p> + <p> + They had all descended from the Upper World, to live out strange lives, or + die early deaths in the mysterious but all pervading world below the line. + </p> + <p> + Some of them I saw, as it were, for a moment only; suddenly out of the + darkness they burst upon me; suddenly the darkness again received them out + of my sight. + </p> + <p> + But our acquaintance was of sufficient duration to allow me to acquire + some knowledge, and to gain some experience of lives more than strange, + and of characters far removed from the ordinary. + </p> + <p> + But with others I spent many hours, months, or years as circumstances + warranted, or as opportunities permitted. Some of them became my + intimates; and though seven long years have passed since I gave up + police-court duties, our friendship bears the test of time, for they + remain my friends and acquaintances still. + </p> + <p> + But some have passed away, and others are passing; one by one my list of + friends grows less, and were it not that I, even now, pick up a new friend + or two, I should run the risk of being a lonely old man. Let me confess, + however, that my friends have brought me many worries, have caused me much + disappointment, have often made me very angry. Sometimes, I must own, they + have caused me real sorrow and occasionally feelings of utter despair. But + I have had my compensations, we have had our happy times, we have even + known our merry moments. + </p> + <p> + Though pathos has permeated all our intercourse, humour and comedy have + never been far away; though sometimes tragedy has been in waiting. + </p> + <p> + But over one and all of my friends hung a great mystery, a mystery that + always puzzled and sometimes paralysed me, a mystery that always set me to + thinking. + </p> + <p> + Now many of my friends were decent and good-hearted fellows; yet they were + outcasts. Others were intelligent, clever and even industrious, quite + capable of holding their own with respectable men, still they were + helpless. + </p> + <p> + Others were fastidiously honest in some things, yet they were persistent + rogues who could not see the wrong or folly of dishonesty; many of them + were clear-headed in ninety-nine directions, but in the hundredth they + were muddled if not mentally blind. + </p> + <p> + Others had known and appreciated the comforts of refined life, yet they + were happy and content amidst the horror and dirt of a common + lodging-house! Why was it that these fellows failed, and were content to + fail in life? + </p> + <p> + What is that little undiscovered something that determines their lives and + drives them from respectable society? + </p> + <p> + What compensations do they get for all the suffering and privations they + undergo? I don't know! I wish that I did! but these things I have never + been able to discover. + </p> + <p> + Many times I have put the questions to myself; many times I have put the + questions to my friends, who appear to know about as much and just as + little upon the matter as myself. + </p> + <p> + They do not realise that in reality they do differ from ordinary citizens; + I realise the difference, but can find no reason for it. + </p> + <p> + No! it is not drink, although a few of them were dipsomaniacs, for + generally they were sober men. + </p> + <p> + I will own my ignorance, and say that I do not know what that little + something is that makes a man into a criminal instead of constituting him + into a hero. This I do know: that but for the possession of a little + something, many of my friends, now homeless save when they are in prison, + would be performing life's duties in settled and comfortable homes, and + would be quite as estimable citizens as ordinary people. + </p> + <p> + Probably they would prove better citizens than the majority of people, for + while they possess some inherent weakness, they also possess in a great + degree many estimable qualities which are of little use in their present + life. + </p> + <p> + These friends of mine not only visit my office and invade my home, but + they turn up at all sorts of inconvenient times and places.—There is + my friend the dipsomaniac, the pocket Hercules, the man of brain and iron + constitution. + </p> + <p> + Year after year he holds on to his own strange course, neither poverty nor + prison, delirium tremens nor physical injuries serve to alter him. He + occupies a front seat at a men's meeting on Sunday afternoon when the + bills announce my name. But he comes half drunk and in a talkative mood, + sometimes in a contradictory mood, but generally good tempered. He + punctuates my speech with a loud and emphatic "Hear! hear!" and often + informs the audience that "what Mr. Holmes says is quite true!" The + attendants cannot keep him silent, he tells them that he is my friend; he + makes some claim to being my patron. + </p> + <p> + Poor fellow! I speak to him kindly, but incontinently give him the slip, + for I retire by a back way, leaving him to argue my disappearance in no + friendly spirit with the attendants. Yet I have spent many happy hours + with him when, as sometimes happened, he was "in his right mind." + </p> + <p> + I, would like to dwell on the wonders of this man's strange and fearsome + life, but I hasten on to tell of a contrast, for my friends present many + contrasts. + </p> + <p> + I was hurrying down crowded Bishopsgate at lunch time, lost in thought, + when I felt my hand grasped and a well-known voice say, "Why! Mr. Holmes, + don't you know me?" + </p> + <p> + Know him! I should think I do know him; I am proud to know him, for I + venerate him. He is only a french polisher and by no means handsome, his + face is furrowed and seamed by care and sorrow, his hands and clothing are + stained with varnish. Truly he is not much to look at, but if any one + wants an embodiment of pluck and devotion, of never-failing patience and + magnificent love, in my friend you shall find it! + </p> + <p> + Born in the slums, he sold matches at seven years of age; at eight he was + in an industrial school; his father was dead, his mother a drunkard; home + he had none! + </p> + <p> + Leaving school at sixteen he became first a gardener's assistant, then a + gentleman's servant; in this occupation he saved some money with which he + apprenticed himself to french polishing. From apprentice to journeyman, + from journeyman to business on his own account, were successive steps; he + married, and that brought him among my many acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + He had a nice home, and two beautiful children, and then that great + destroyer of home life, drink! had to be reckoned with. So he came to + consult me. She was a beautiful and cultured woman and full of remorse. + </p> + <p> + The stained hands of the french polisher trembled as he signed a document + by which he agreed to pay L1 per week for his wife's maintenance in an + inebriate home for twelve months where she might have her babe with her. + Bravely he did his part, and at the end of the year he brought her back to + a new and better home, where the neighbours knew nothing of her past. + </p> + <p> + For twelve months there was joy in the home, and then a new life came into + it; but with the babe came a relapse; the varnish-stained man was again at + his wits' end. Once more she entered a home, for another year he worked + and toiled to pay the charges, and again he provided a new home. And she + came back to a house that he had bought for her in a new neighbourhood; + they now lived close to me, and my house was open to them. The story of + the following years cannot be told, for she almost ruined him. Night after + night after putting the children to bed, he searched the streets and + public-houses for her; sometimes I went with him. She pawned his clothes, + the children's clothing, and even the boy's fiddle. He cleaned the house, + he cooked the food, he cared for the children, he even washed and ironed + their clothing on Saturday evening for the coming Sunday. He marked all + the clothing, he warned all the pawnbrokers. At length he obtained a + separation order, but tearing it up he again took her home with him. She + went from bad to worse; even down to the deepest depths and thence to a + rescue home. He fetched her out, and they disappeared from my + neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + So I lost them and often wondered what the end had been. To-day he was + smiling; he had with him a youth of twenty, a scholarship boy, the + violinist. He said, "I am just going to pay for his passage to Canada; he + is going to be the pioneer, and perhaps we shall all join him, she will do + better in a new country!" On further inquiry I found that she was trying + hard, and doing better than when I lost them. + </p> + <p> + Thinking she needed greater interest in life, he had bought a small + business for her, but "Mr. Holmes, she broke down!" + </p> + <p> + Alas! I knew what "breaking down" meant to the poor fellow, the heroic + fellow I ought to have said. And so for her he will leave his kindred, + home and friends; he will forsake the business that he has so slowly and + laboriously built up, he will sacrifice anything in the hope that the air + of Canada "will do her good." let us hope that it may, for her good is all + he lives for, and her good is his religion. + </p> + <p> + Twenty years of heartbreaking misery have not killed his love or withered + his hope. Surely love like his cannot fail of its reward. And maybe in the + new world he will have the happiness that has been denied him in the old + world, and in the evening of his life he may have the peaceful calm that + has hitherto been denied him. For this he is seeking a place in the new + world where the partner of his life and the desire of his eyes may not + find it easy to yield to her besetting temptation, where the air and his + steadfast love will "do her good." + </p> + <p> + But all my acquaintances are not heroes, for I am sorry to say that my old + friend Downy has served his term of penal servitude, and is at liberty + once more to beg or steal. He is not ashamed to beg, but I know that he + prefers stealing, for he richly enjoys anything obtained "on the cross," + and cares little for the fruits of honest labour. + </p> + <p> + Downy therefore never crosses my doorstep, and when I hold communication + with him he stands on the doorstep where I bar his entrance. + </p> + <p> + Yet I like the vagabond, for he is a humorous rascal, and though I know + that I ought to be severe with him, I fail dismally when I try to exhort + him. "Now, look here, old man," he will say, "stop preaching; what are you + going to do to help a fellow; do you think I live this life for fun" and + his eyes twinkle! When I tell him that I am sure of it, he roars. Yes, I + am certain of it, Downy is a thief for the fun of it; he is the worst and + cleverest sneak I have the privilege of knowing; and yet there is such + audacity about him and his actions that even his most reprehensible deeds + do not disgust me. + </p> + <p> + He is of the spare and lean kind, but were he fatter he might well pose as + a modern Jack Falstaff, for his one idea is summed up in Falstaff's words: + "Where shall we take a purse to-night?" Downy, of course, obtained full + remission of his sentence; he did all that was required of him in prison, + and so reduced his five years' sentence by fifteen months. But I feel + certain that he did nor spend three years and nine months in a convict + establishment without robbing a good many, and the more difficult he found + the task, the more he would enjoy it. + </p> + <p> + I expect his education is now complete, so I have to beware of Downy, for + he would glory in the very thought of "besting" me, so I laugh and joke + with the rascal, but keep him at arm's length. We discuss matters on the + doorstep; if he looks ill I have pity on him, and subsidise him. Sometimes + his merry look changes to a half-pathetic look, and he goes away to his + "doss house," realising that after all his "besting" he might have done + better. + </p> + <p> + Some of my friends have crossed the river, but as I think of them they + come back and bid me tell their stories. Here is my old friend the famous + chess-player, whose books are the poetry of chess, but whose life was more + than a tragedy. I need not say where I met him; his face was bruised and + swollen, his jawbone was fractured, he was in trouble, so we became + friends. He was a strange fellow, and though he visited my house many + times, he would neither eat nor drink with us. He wore no overcoat even in + the most bitter weather, he carried no umbrella, neither would he walk + under one, though the rains descended and the floods came! + </p> + <p> + He was a fatalist pure and simple, and took whatever came to him in a + thoroughly fatalist spirit. "My dear Holmes," he would say, "why do you + break your heart about me? Let me alone, let us be friends; you are what + you are because you can't help it; you can't be anything else even if you + tried. I am what I am for the same reason. You get your happiness, I get + mine. Do me a good turn when you can, but don't reason with me; let us + enjoy each other's company and take things as they are." + </p> + <p> + I took him on his own terms; I saw much of him, and when he was in + difficulties I helped him out. + </p> + <p> + For a time I became his keeper, and when he had chess engagements to + fulfil I used to deliver him carriage paid to his destination wherever it + might be. He always and most punctiliously repaid any monetary obligation + I had conferred upon him, for in that respect I found him the soul of + honour, poor though he was! As I think of him I see him dancing and + yelling in the street, surrounded by a crowd of admiring East Enders, I + see him bruised and torn hurried off to the police station, I see him + standing before the magistrate awaiting judgment. What compensation + dipsomania gave him I know not, but that he did get some kind of wild joy + I am quite sure. For I see him feverish from one debauch, but equally + feverish with the expectation of another. + </p> + <p> + With his wife it was another story, and I can see her now full of anxiety + and dread, with no relief and no hope, except, dreadful as it may seem, + his death! For then, to use her own expression, "she would know the + worst." Poor fellow! the last time I saw him he was nearing the end. In an + underground room I sat by his bedside, and a poor bed it was! + </p> + <p> + As he lay propped up by pillows he was working away at his beloved chess, + writing chess notes, and solving and explaining problems for very + miserable payments. + </p> + <p> + I knew the poverty of that underground room; and was made acquainted with + the intense disappointment of both husband and wife when letters were + received that did not contain the much-desired postal orders. And so + passed a genius; but a dipsomaniac! A man of brilliant parts and a fellow + of infinite jest, who never did justice to his great powers, but who + crowded a continuous succession of tragedies into a short life. I am glad + to think that I did my best for him, even though I failed. He has gone! + but he still has a place in my affections and occupies a niche in the hall + of my memory. + </p> + <p> + I very much doubt whether I am able to forget any one of the pieces of + broken humanity that have companied with me. I do not want to forget them, + for truth to tell they have been more interesting to me than merely + respectable people, and infinitely more interesting than some good people. + </p> + <p> + But I am afraid that my tastes are bad, and my ideals low, for I am always + happier among the very poor or the outcasts than I am with the decent and + well behaved. + </p> + <p> + A fellow named Reid has been calling on me repeatedly; an Australian by + birth, he outraged the law so often that he got a succession of sentences, + some of them being lengthy. He tried South Africa with a like result; + South Africa soon had enough of him, and after two sentences he was + deported to England, where he looked me up. + </p> + <p> + He carries with him in a nice little case a certified and attested copy of + all his convictions, more than twenty in number. He produces this without + the least shame, almost with pride, and with the utmost confidence that it + would prove a ready passport to my affection. + </p> + <p> + I talk to him; he tells me of his life, of Australia and South Africa; he + almost hypnotises me, for he knows so much. We get on well together till + he produces the "attested copy," and then the spell is broken, and the + humour of it is too much for me, so I laugh. + </p> + <p> + He declares that he wants work, honest work, and he considers that his + "certificate" vouches for his bona fides. This is undoubtedly true, but + nevertheless I expect that it will be chiefly responsible for his free + passage back to Australia after he has sampled the quality of English + prisons. + </p> + <p> + My friends and acquaintances meet me or rather I meet them, in undesirable + places; I never visit a prison without coming across one or more of them, + and they embarrass me greatly. + </p> + <p> + A few Sundays ago I was addressing a large congregation of men in a London + prison. As I stood before them I was dismayed to see right in the front + rank an old and persistent acquaintance whom I thoroughly and absolutely + disliked, and he knew it, for on more than one occasion I had good reason + for expressing a decided opinion about him. A smile of gleeful but + somewhat mischievous satisfaction spread over his face; he folded his arms + across his breast, he looked up at me and quite held me with his + glittering eye. + </p> + <p> + I realised his presence, I felt that his eye was upon me, I saw that he + followed every word. He quite unnerved me till I stumbled and tripped. + Then he smiled in his evil way. + </p> + <p> + I could not get rid of his eyes, and sometimes I half appealed to him with + a pitiful look to take them off me. But it was no use, he still gazed at + me and through me. So thinking of him and looking at him I grew more and + more confused. + </p> + <p> + The clock fingers would not move fast enough for me. I had elected to + speak on sympathy, brotherhood and mutual help. And this fellow to whom I + had refused help again and again knew my feelings, and made the most of + his opportunity. + </p> + <p> + But my friend will come and see me when he is once more out of prison. He + will want to discuss my address of that particular Sunday afternoon. He + will quote my words, he will remind me about sympathy and mutual help, he + will hope to leave me rejoicing in the possession of a few shillings. + </p> + <p> + But that will be the hour of my triumph; for then I will rejoice in the + contemplation of his disappointment as my door closes upon him. But if I + understand him aright his personal failure will not lead him to despair, + for he will appear again and again and sometimes by deputy, and he will + put others as cunning as himself on my track. + </p> + <p> + Some time ago I was tormented with a succession of visitors of this + description; my door was hardly free of one when another appeared. They + all told the same tale: "they had been advised to come to me, for I was + kind to men who had been in prison." + </p> + <p> + They got no practical kindness from me, but rather some wholesome advice. + I found afterwards from a lodging-house habitue that this man had been + taking his revenge by distributing written copies of my name and address + to all the lodging-house inmates, and advising them to call on me. And I + have not the slightest doubt that the rascal watched them come to my door, + enjoyed their disappointment, and gloried in my irritation. + </p> + <p> + Yes, I have made the acquaintance of many undesirable fellows, and our + introduction to each other has sometimes been brought about in a very + strange manner. Sometimes they have forced themselves upon me and insisted + upon my seeing much of them, and "knowing all about them" they would tell + me of their struggles and endeavours to "go straight" and would put their + difficulties and hopes before me. Specious clever rascals many of them + were, far too clever for me, as I sometimes found out to my cost. One + young fellow who has served a well-earned and richly merited sentence of + five years' penal servitude, quite overpowered me with his good intentions + and professions of rectitude. "No more prison for me," he would say; he + brought his wife and children to see me, feeling sure that they would form + a passport to my sympathy and pocket. + </p> + <p> + He was not far wrong, for I substantially and regularly helped the wife. I + had strong misgivings about the fellow, consequently what help I gave I + took care went direct to his wife. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes he would call at my office, and with tears would thank me for + the help given to his wife and children. I noticed a continual improvement + in his clothing and appearance till he became quite a swell. I felt a bit + uneasy, for I knew that he was not at work. I soon discovered, or rather + the police discovered that he had stolen a lot of my office note-paper of + which he had made free use, and when arrested on another charge several + blank cheques which had been abstracted from my cheque book were found + upon him. He had made himself so well known to and familiar with the + caretaker of the chambers, that one night when he appeared with a bag of + tools to put "Mr. Holmes' desk right," no questions were asked, and he + coolly and quite deliberately, with the office door open, operated in his + own sweet way. Fortunately, when trying the dodge in another set of + chambers, he was arrested in the act, and my blank cheques among many + others were found upon him. + </p> + <p> + Another term of penal servitude has stopped his career and put an end to, + I will not say a friendship but an acquaintance, that I am not at any rate + anxious to renew. + </p> + <p> + They come a long way to see me do some of my friends, and put themselves + to some trouble in the matter, and not a little expense if they are to be + believed. Why they do so I cannot imagine, for sometimes after a long and + close questioning I fail to find any satisfactory reason for their doing + so. I have listened to many strange stories, and have received not a few + startling confessions! Some of my friends have gone comforted away when + they had made a clean breast and circumstantially given me the details of + some great crime or evil that they had committed. I never experienced any + difficulty, or felt the least compunction in granting them plenary + absolution; I never betrayed them to the police, for I knew that of the + crime confessed they were as guiltless as myself. Of course there is a + good deal of pathos about their actions, but I always felt a glow of + pleasure when I could send poor deluded people away comforted; and I am + sure that they really believed me when I told them that under no + circumstances would I betray their confidence, or acquaint the police + without first consulting them. I never had any difficulty in keeping my + promise, though sometimes my friends would, after a long absence, remind + me of it. + </p> + <p> + But occasionally one of my friends has compelled me to seek the advice of + an astute detective, for very clever rogues, real and dangerous criminals, + have been my companions and have boasted of my friendship, whilst pursuing + a deplorably criminal course. But I never had the slightest compunction + with regard to them when I knew beyond doubt what they were at. Friends + and associates of criminals have more than once waited on me for the + purpose of enlisting my sympathy and help for one of their colleagues who + was about to be released from prison, and the vagabonds have actually + informed detectives that "Mr. Holmes was going to take him in hand." What + they really meant was, that they had taken Mr. Holmes in hand for the + purpose of lulling the just suspicions of the police. One day not long ago + a woman, expensively dressed and possessed of a whole mass of flaxen hair, + burst into my office. She was very excited, spoke good English with an + altogether exaggerated French accent, and her action was altogether + grotesque and stereotyped. She informed me that she had that morning come + from Paris to consult me. When I inquired what she knew about me and how + she got my address, she said that a well-known journalist and a member of + Parliament whom she had met in Paris had advised her to consult with me + about the future of a man shortly to be discharged from prison. As during + the whole of my life I had not met or corresponded with the brilliant + gentleman she referred to, I felt doubtful, but kept silent. So on she + went with her story, first, however, offering me a sum of money for the + benefit of as consummate a villain as ever inhabited a prison cell. + </p> + <p> + I declined the money and refused to have anything to do with the matter + till I had had further information. Briefly her story was as follows: The + man in whom she and others were interested was serving a term of three + years for burglary. He was an educated man, married, and father of two + children. His wife loved him dearly, and his two children were "pretty, + oh, so pretty!" They were afraid that his wife would receive him back + again with open arms, and that other children might result. They were + anxious that this should be prevented, for they felt, she was sorry to + say, that he might again revert to crime, that other imprisonments might + ensue, and that "the poor, poor little thing," meaning the wife, might be + exposed to more and worse suffering than she had already undergone. + </p> + <p> + Would I receive a sum of money on his account and arrange for him to leave + England? They felt that to be the wisest course, for "he is so clever, and + can soon build up a home for her when he is away from his companions." Of + his ability I had subsequently plenty of proof, and I have no reason to + doubt her statement that he could soon "build up a home." He could very + quickly—and a luxurious home, too! + </p> + <p> + The wife was not to be considered at all in the matter, but money would be + sent to me from time to time to help the "poor little thing and her + children!" I was interested, but I said to myself, "This is much too + good," and the ready journey from Paris rather staggered me. I put a few + simple questions, she pledged me to secrecy. I told her that I would ask + the prison authorities to send him to me on his discharge. + </p> + <p> + "I so please, I now go back to Paris; I come again and I bring you money," + she said, as she shook her furs and took herself and her flaxen hair to + somewhere else than Paris, so I felt persuaded. + </p> + <p> + Two days before the prisoner's discharge she burst in again, huffy head, + furs and gesticulation as before. "I come from Paris this morning, I bring + you money." I was not present, but I had previously warned my assistant + not to receive any money. The gay Parisian was informed that no money + could be received, but she promptly put two sovereigns on the desk and + disappeared—-but not to Paris! + </p> + <p> + He stood before me at last, a little fellow, smart looking, erect, + self-satisfied and self-reliant. I told him of the two sovereigns and the + fluffy hair, of the good intentions of his Parisian friend. I spoke + hopefully of a new life in a new country and of the future of his wife and + children; he never blanched. He was quite sure he knew no French lady with + fluffy hair; he had no friends, no accomplices; he wanted work, honest + work; he intended to make amends for the past; he "would build up a home" + for his wife and children. + </p> + <p> + I saw much of him; we lunched together and we smoked together, and he + talked a good deal. His wife fell ill owing to very hard work, and I + befriended her. He accepted the two pounds and asked for more! He was a + citizen of the world, and spoke more than one language. Our companionship + continued for some months, and then my friend and myself had to sever our + connection. + </p> + <p> + He was one of a gang of very clever thieves, who operated on a large + scale, and who for cool audacity and originality were, I think, almost + unequalled! + </p> + <p> + They engaged expensive suites of rooms or flats, furnished them most + expensively on credit or the hire system, insured the goods against + burglary, promptly burgled themselves, sold the goods, realised the + insurance, and then vanished to repeat their proceedings elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + So clever were they at the business that costly but portable goods were + freely submitted to their tender mercies. They invariably engaged rooms + that possessed a "skylight." It was my friend's business to do the + burgling, and this he did by carefully removing the glass from the + skylight, being careful not to break it; needless to say, he removed the + glass from the inside and carefully deposited it on the roof, the + valuables making their exit through the room door and down the staircase + in broad daylight. + </p> + <p> + My friend, who spoke Dutch fluently and accurately, has, I understood, + sold to English merchants whose probity was beyond dispute the proceeds of + some of his "firm's" operations. This game went on for a time, the + Parisian lady with the false hair being one of the confederates. He + disappeared, however, and I am glad to think that for some considerable + time society will be safeguarded from the woman with the flaxen hair, and + the operations of a clever scoundrel. + </p> + <p> + I am glad to say that the number of my friends and acquaintances who have + seriously tried to "best" me form but a small proportion of the whole. + Generally they have, I believe, been animated with good intentions, though + the failure to carry them out has frequently been manifest and deplorable. + </p> + <p> + I am persuaded that weakness is more disastrous to the world than absolute + wickedness, for nothing in the whole of my life's experience has taken + more out of me, and given me so much heartbreaking disappointment as my + continued efforts on behalf of really well-intentioned individuals, who + could not stand alone owing to their lack of grit and moral backbone. For + redemptive purposes I would rather, a hundred times rather, have to deal + with a big sinner than with a human jellyfish, a flabby man who does no + great wrong, but on the other hand does not the slightest good. + </p> + <p> + But, as I have already said, though all my friends and acquaintances were + dwellers in a dark land, not all of them were "known to the police"; + indeed, many of them ought to be classified as "known to the angels," for + their real goodness has again and again rebuked and inspired me. + </p> + <p> + Oh the patience, fortitude and real heroism I have met with in my + acquaintances among the poor. Strength in time of trial, virtue amidst + obscenity, suffering long drawn out and perpetual self-denial are + characteristics that abound in many of my poorest friends, and in some of + the chapters that are to follow I shall tell more fully of them, but just + now I am amongst neither sinners nor saints, but with my friends "in + motley." I mean the men and women who have occupied so much of my time and + endeavours, but whose position I knew was hopeless. + </p> + <p> + How they interested me, those demented friends of mine! they were a + perpetual wonder to me, and I am glad to remember that I never passed hard + judgment upon them, or gave them hard words. And I owe much to them, a + hundred times more than the whole of them are indebted to me; for I found + that I could not take an interest in any one of them, nor make any + fruitless, any perhaps foolish effort to truly help them, without doing + myself more good than I could possibly have done to them. Fifteen years I + stood by, and stood up for demented Jane Cakebread, and we became + inseparably connected. She abused me right royally, and her power of + invective was superb. When she was not in prison she haunted my house and + annoyed my neighbours. She patronised me most graciously when she accepted + a change of clothing from me; she lived in comparative luxury when I + provided lodgings for her; she slept out of doors when I did not. + </p> + <p> + She bestowed her affections on me and made me heir to her non-existent + fortune; she proposed marriage to me, although she frequently met and + admired my good wife. All this and more, year after year! + </p> + <p> + Poor old Jane! I owe much to her, and I am quite willing, nay, anxious, to + say that in a great measure Jane Cakebread was the making of Thomas + Holmes. + </p> + <p> + Years have passed since we laid Jane gently to rest, but she comes back to + me and dominates me whenever I mentally call my old friends together. Her + voice is the loudest, her speech the most voluble, and her manner the most + assertive of all my motley friends. They are all gathering around me as I + write. My friend who teaches music by colour is here, my friend with his + secret invention that will dispense with steam and electricity is here + too; "Little Ebbs" the would-be policeman is here too; the prima donna + whose life was more than a tragedy, the architect with his wonderful but + never accepted designs, the broken artist with his pictures, the educated + but non-sober lady who could convert plaster models into marble statuary + are all with me. The unspeakably degraded parson smoking cigarettes, his + absence of shirt hidden by a rusty cassock, lolls in my easy-chair; my + burglar friend who had "done" forty years and was still asking for more, + they are all around me! And my dipsomaniac friends have come too! I hear + them talking and arguing, when a strident voice calls out, "No arguing! no + arguing! argument spoils everything!" and Jane stops the talk of others by + occupying the platform herself and recites a chapter from the book of Job. + I am living it all over again! + </p> + <p> + And now troop in my suffering friends. Here is the paralysed woman of + thirty-five who has for twenty years lain in bed the whiles her sister has + worked incessantly to maintain her! Here is my widow friend who after + working fifteen hours daily for years was dragged from the Lea. As she + sits and listens her hands are making matchboxes and throwing them over + her shoulder, one, two, three, four! right, left! they go to the imaginary + heaps upon the imaginary beds. While blighted children are crawling upon + the floor looking up at me with big eyes. Here is my patient old friend + who makes "white flowers" although she is eighty years of age, and still + keeps at it, though, thank God, she gets the old-age pension. + </p> + <p> + Now come in the young men and maidens, the blighted blossoms of humanity + who wither and die before the time of fruition, for that fell disease + consumption has laid its deadly hand upon them. + </p> + <p> + Oh! the mystery of it all, the sorrow and madness of it all! I open my + door and they file out. Some back to the unseen world, some back to the + lower depths of this world! Surely they are a motley lot, are my friends + and acquaintances; they are as varied as humanity itself. So they + represent to me all the moods and tenses of humanity, all its personal, + social and industrial problems. I have a pitiful heart; I try to keep a + philosophic mind; I am cheery with them; I am doubtful, I am hopeful! + </p> + <p> + I never give help feeling sure that I have done wisely, I never refuse the + worst and feel sure that I have done well. I live near the heart of + humanity, I count its heart-beats, I hear its throbs. + </p> + <p> + I realise some of the difficulties that beset us, I see some of the + heights and depths to which humanity can ascend or descend. I have learned + that the greatest factors in life are kindly sympathy, brotherly love, a + willingness to believe the best of the worst, and to have an infinite + faith in the ultimate triumph of good! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + London's great underworld to many may be an undiscovered country. To me it + is almost as familiar as my own fireside; twenty-five years of my life + have been spent amongst its inhabitants, and their lives and circumstances + have been my deep concern. + </p> + <p> + Sad and weary many of those years have been, but always full of absorbing + interest. Yet I have found much that gave me pleasure, and it is no + exaggeration when I say that some of my happiest hours have been spent + among the poorest inhabitants of the great underworld. + </p> + <p> + But whether happy or sorrowful, I was always interested, for the strange + contrasts and the ever-varying characteristics and lives of the + inhabitants always compelled attention, interest and thought. There is + much in this underworld to terrorise, but there is also much to inspire. + </p> + <p> + Horrible speech and strange tongues are heard in it, accents of sorrow and + bursts of angry sound prevail in it. + </p> + <p> + Drunkenness, debauchery, crime and ignorance are never absent; and in it + men and women grown old in sin and crime spend their last evil days. The + whining voice of the professional mendicant is ever heard in its streets, + for its poverty-stricken inhabitants readily respond to every appeal for + help. + </p> + <p> + So it is full of contrasts; for everlasting toil goes on, and the hum of + industry ever resounds. Magnificent self-reliance is continually + exhibited, and self-denial of no mean order is the rule. + </p> + <p> + The prattle of little children and the voice of maternal love make sweet + music in its doleful streets, and glorious devotion dignifies and + illumines the poorest homes. + </p> + <p> + But out of the purlieus of this netherworld strange beings issue when the + shades of evening fall. + </p> + <p> + Men whose hands are against every man come forth to deeds of crime, like + beasts to seek their prey! Women, fearsome creatures, whose steps lead + down to hell, to seek their male companions. + </p> + <p> + Let us stand and watch! + </p> + <p> + Here comes a poor, smitten, wretched old man; see how he hugs the rags of + his respectability; his old frayed frock-coat is buttoned tightly around + him, and his outstretched hands tell that he is eager for the least boon + that pity can bestow. He has found that the way of the transgressor is + hard; he has kissed the bloom of pleasure's painted lips, he has found + them pale as death! + </p> + <p> + But others follow, and hurry by. And a motley lot they are; figure and + speech, complexion and dress all combine to create dismay; but they have + all one common characteristic. They want money! and are not particular + about the means of getting it. Now issue forth an innumerable band who + during the day have been sleeping off the effects of last night's debauch. + With eager steps, droughty throats and keen desire they seek the wine cup + yet again. + </p> + <p> + Now come fellows, young and middle-aged, who dare not be seen by day, for + whom the police hold "warrants," for they have absconded from wives and + children, leaving them chargeable to the parish. + </p> + <p> + Here are men who have robbed their employers, here young people of both + sexes who have drained Circe's cup and broken their parents' hearts. + </p> + <p> + Surely it is a strange and heterogeneous procession that issues evening by + evening from the caves and dens of London's underworld. But notice there + is also a returning procession! For as the sun sinks to rest, sad-faced + men seek some cover where they may lie down and rest their weary bones; + where perchance they may sleep and regain some degree of passive courage + that will enable them, at the first streak of morning light, to rise and + begin again a disheartening round of tramp, tramp, searching for work that + is everlastingly denied them. Hungry and footsore, their souls fainting + within them, they seek the homes where wives and children await their + return with patient but hopeless resignation. + </p> + <p> + Take notice if you will of the places they enter, for surely the beautiful + word "home" is desecrated if applied to most of their habitations. Horrid + places within and without, back to back and face to face they stand. + </p> + <p> + At their doorway death stands ready to strike. In the murky light of + little rooms filled with thick air child-life has struggled into + existence; up and down their narrow stairs patient endurance and passive + hopelessness ever pass and repass. + </p> + <p> + Small wonder that the filthy waters of a neighbouring canal woo and + receive so many broken hearts and emaciated bodies. + </p> + <p> + But the procession now changes its sex, for weary widowed women are + returning to children who for many hours have been lacking a mother's + care, for mothers in the underworld must work if children must eat. + </p> + <p> + So the weary widows have been at the wash-tubs all day long, and are + coming home with two shillings hardly earned. They call in at the dirty + general shop, where margarine, cheese, bread, tinned meat and firewood are + closely commingled in the dank air. + </p> + <p> + A loaf, a pennyworth of margarine, a pennyworth of tea, a bundle of + firewood, half a pound of sugar, a pint of lamp-oil exhaust their list of + purchases, for the major part of their earnings is required for the rent. + </p> + <p> + So they climb their stairs, they feed the children, put them unwashed to + bed, do some necessary household work, and then settle down themselves in + some shape, without change of attire, that they may rest and be ready for + the duties of the ensuing day. Perhaps sweet oblivion will come even to + them. "Blessings on the man who invented sleep," cried Sancho Panza, and + there is a world of truth in his ecstatic exclamation, "it wraps him round + like a garment." + </p> + <p> + Aye, that it does, for what would the poor weary women and men of London's + underworld do without it? What would the sick and suffering be without it? + In tiny rooms where darkness is made visible by penny-worths of oil burned + in cheap and nasty lamps, there is no lack of pain and suffering, and no + lack of patient endurance and passive heroism. + </p> + <p> + As night closes in and semi-darkness reigns around, when the streets are + comparatively silent, when children's voices are no longer heard, come + with me and explore! + </p> + <p> + It is one o'clock a.m., and we go down six steps into what is facetiously + termed a "breakfast parlour"; here we find a man and woman about sixty + years of age. The woman is seated at a small table on which stands a + small, evil-smelling lamp, and the man is seated at another small table, + but gets no assistance from the lamp; he works in comparative gloom, for + he is almost blind; he works by touch. + </p> + <p> + For fifty years they have been makers of artificial flowers; both are + clever artists, and the shops of the West End have fairly blazed with the + glory of their roses. Winsome lassie's and serene ladies have made + themselves gay with their flowers. + </p> + <p> + There they sit, as they have sat together for thirty years. Neither can + read or write, but what can be done in flowers they can do. Long hours and + dark rooms have made the man almost blind. + </p> + <p> + He suffers also from heart disease and dropsy. He cannot do much, but he + can sit, and sit, while his wife works and works, for in the underworld + married women must work if dying husbands are to be cared for. + </p> + <p> + So for fifteen hours daily and nightly they sit at their roses! Then they + lie down on the bed we see in the corner, but sleep does not come, for + asthma troubles him, and he must be attended and nursed. + </p> + <p> + Shall we pay another visit to that underworld room? Come, then. Two months + have passed away, the evil-smelling lamp is still burning, the woman still + sits at the table, but no rose-leaves are before her; she is making black + tulips. On the bed lies a still form with limbs decently smoothed and + composed; the poor blind eyes are closed for ever. He is awaiting the day + of burial, and day after day the partner of his life and death is sitting, + and working, for in this underworld bereaved wives must work if husbands + are to be decently buried. The black tulips she will wear as mourning for + him; she will accompany his poor body to the cemetery, and then return to + live alone and to finish her work alone. + </p> + <p> + But let us continue our midnight explorations, heedless of the men and + women now returning from their nightly prowl who jostle us as they pass. + </p> + <p> + We enter another room where the air is thick and makes us sick and faint. + We stand at the entrance and look around; we see again the evil-smelling + lamp, and again a woman at work at a small table, and she too is a widow! + </p> + <p> + She is making cardboard boxes, and pretty things they are. Two beds are in + the room, and one contains three, and the other two children. On the beds + lie scores of dainty boxes. The outside parts lie on one bed, and the + insides on the other. They are drying while the children sleep; by and by + they will be put together, tied in dozens, and next morning taken to the + factory. But of their future history we dare not inquire. + </p> + <p> + The widow speaks to us, but her hands never rest; we notice the celerity + of her movements, the dreadful automatic certainty of her touch is almost + maddening; we wait and watch, but all in vain, for some false movement + that shall tell us she is a human and not a machine. But no, over her + shoulder to the bed on the left side, or over her shoulder to the bed on + her right side, the boxes fly, and minute by minute and hour by hour the + boxes will continue to grow till her task is completed. Then she will put + them together, tie them in dozens, and lay herself down on that bed that + contains the two children. + </p> + <p> + Need we continue? I think not, but it may give wings to imagination when I + say that in London's underworld there are at least 50,000 women whose + earnings do not exceed three halfpence per hour, and who live under + conditions similar to those described. Working, working, day and night, + when they have work to do, practically starving when work is scarce. + </p> + <p> + The people of the underworld are not squeamish, they talk freely, and as a + matter of course about life and death. Their children are at an early age + made acquainted with both mysteries; a dead child and one newly born + sometimes occupy a room with other children. + </p> + <p> + People tell me of the idleness of the underworld and there is plenty of + it; but what astonishes me is the wonderful, the persistent, but almost + unrewarded toil that is unceasingly going on, in which even infants share. + </p> + <p> + Come again with me in the day-time, climb with me six dark and greasy + flights of stairs, for the underworld folk are sometimes located near the + sky. + </p> + <p> + In this Bastille the passages are very narrow, and our shoulders sometimes + rub the slimy moisture from the walls. On every landing in the + semi-darkness we perceive galleries running to right and to left. On the + little balconies, one on every floor, children born in this Bastille are + gasping for air through iron bars. + </p> + <p> + There are three hundred suites of box rooms in this Bastille, which means + that three hundred families live like ants in it. Let us enter No. 250. + Time: 3.30 p.m. Here lives a blind matchbox-maker and his wife with their + seven children. The father has gone to take seven gross of boxes to the + factory, for the mother cannot easily climb up and down the stone stairs + of the Bastille. So she sits everlastingly at the boxes, the beds are + covered with them, the floor is covered with them, and the air is thick + with unpleasant moisture. + </p> + <p> + One, two, three, four, there they go over her shoulder to the bed or + floor; on the other side of the table sits a child of four, who, with all + the apathy of an adult if not with equal celerity, gums or pastes the + labels for his mother. The work must be "got in," and the child has been + kept at home to take his share in the family toil. + </p> + <p> + In this Bastille the children of the underworld live and die, for death + reaps here his richest harvest. Never mind! the funeral of one child is + only a pageant for others. Here women work and starve, and here childhood, + glorious childhood, is withered and stricken; but here, too, the wicked, + the vile, the outcast and the thief find sanctuary. + </p> + <p> + The strange mixture of it all bewilders me, fascinates me, horrifies me, + and yet sometimes it encourages me and almost inspires me. For I see that + suffering humanity possesses in no mean degree those three great + qualities, patience, fortitude and endurance. + </p> + <p> + For perchance these three qualities will feel and grope for a brighter + life and bring about a better day. + </p> + <p> + Though in all conscience funerals are numerous enough in this bit of the + underworld, and though the conditions are bad enough to destroy its + inhabitants, yet the people live on and on, for even death itself + sometimes seems reluctant to befriend them. + </p> + <p> + Surely there is nothing in the underworld so extraordinary as the defiance + flung in the face of death by its poor, feeble, ill-nourished, suffering + humanity. + </p> + <p> + According to every well-known rule they ought to die, and not to linger + upon the order of their dying. But linger they do, and in their lingering + exhibit qualities which ought to regenerate the whole race. It is + wonderful upon what a small amount of nourishment humanity can exist, and + still more wonderful under what conditions it can survive. + </p> + <p> + Shall we look in at a house that I know only too well? Come again, then! + </p> + <p> + Here sits an aged widow of sixty-four at work on infants' shoes, a + daughter about twenty-six is at work on infants' socks. Another daughter + two years older is lying on her back in an invalid's chair, and her deft + fingers are busily working, for although paralysis has taken legs, the + upper part of her body has been spared. The three live together and pool + their earnings; they occupy two very small rooms, for which they pay five + shillings weekly. + </p> + <p> + After paying twopence each to avoid parish funerals, they have five + shillings left weekly for food, firing, clothing and charity. Question + them, and you will learn how they expend those five shillings. "How much + butter do you allow yourselves during the week?" The widow answers: "Two + ounces of shilling butter once a week." "Yes, mother," says the invalid, + "on a Saturday." She knew the day of the week and the hour too, when her + eyes brightened at the sight of three-halfpenny worth of butter. Truly + they fared sumptuously on the Sabbath, for they tasted "shilling butter." + </p> + <p> + But they refuse to die, and I have not yet discovered the point at which + life ebbs out for lack of food, for when underworld folk die of starvation + we are comforted by the assurance that they died "from natural causes." + </p> + <p> + I suppose that if the four children all over eight years of age, belonging + to a widow machinist well known to me, had died, their death would have + been attributed to "natural causes." She had dined them upon one + pennyworth of stewed tapioca without either sugar or milk. Sometimes the + children had returned to school without even that insult to their craving + stomachs. But "natural causes" is the euphonious name given by intelligent + juries to starvation, when inquests are held in the underworld. Herein is + a mystery: in the land of plenty, whose granaries, depots, warehouses are + full to repletion, and whose countless ships are traversing every ocean, + bringing the food and fruits of the earth to its shores, starvation is + held to be a natural cause of death. + </p> + <p> + Here let me say, and at once, that the two widows referred to are but + specimens of a very large company, and that from among my own + acquaintances I can with a very short notice assemble one thousand women + whose lives are as pitiful, whose food is as limited, whose burdens are as + heavy, but whose hearts are as brave as those I have mentioned. + </p> + <p> + The more I know of these women and their circumstances, the more and still + more I am amazed. How they manage to live at all is a puzzle, but they do + live, and hang on to life like grim death itself. I believe I should long + for death were I placed under similar conditions to those my underworld + friends sustain without much complaining. + </p> + <p> + They have, of course, some interests in life, especially when the children + are young, but for themselves they are largely content to be, to do, and + to suffer. + </p> + <p> + Very simple and very limited are their ambitions; they are expressed in + the wish that their children may rise somehow or other from the world + below to the world above, where food is more plentiful and labour more + remunerative. But my admiration and love for the honest workers below the + line are leading me to forget the inhabitants that are far removed from + honesty, and to whom industry is a meaningless word. + </p> + <p> + There are many of them, and a mixed lot they are. The deformed, the + crippled and the half-witted abound. Rogues and rascals, brutes in human + form, and human forms that are harking back to the brute abound also. With + some we may sound the lowest depths, with others we may ascend to glorious + heights. This is the wonder of underworld. Some of its inhabitants have + come down, and are going lower still. Others are struggling with slippery + feet to ascend the inclined plane that leads to the world above. Some in + their misery are feebly hoping for a hand that will restore them to the + world they have for ever lost! + </p> + <p> + And there are others who find their joy in this netherworld! For here + every restraint may be abandoned and every decency may be outraged. Here + are men and women whose presence casts a blight upon everything fresh and + virtuous that comes near them. + </p> + <p> + Here the children grow old before their time, for like little cubs they + lie huddled upon each other when the time for sleep comes. Not for them + the pretty cot, the sweet pillow and clean sheets! but the small close + room, the bed or nest on the floor, the dirty walls and the thick air. + Born into it, breathing it as soon as their little lungs begin to operate, + thick, dirty air dominates their existence or terminates their lives. + </p> + <p> + "Glorious childhood" has no place here, to sweet girlhood it is fatal, and + brave boyhood stands but little chance. + </p> + <p> + Though here and there one and another rise superior to environment and + conditions, the great mass are robbed of the full stature of their bodies, + of their health, their brain power and their moral life. + </p> + <p> + But their loss is not the nation's gain, for the nation loses too! For the + nation erects huge buildings falsely called workhouses, tremendous + institutions called prisons. Asylums in ever-increasing numbers are + required to restrain their feeble bodies, and still feebler minds! + </p> + <p> + Let us look at the contrasts! Their houses are so miserably supplied with + household goods that even a rash and optimistic man would hesitate before + offering a sovereign for an entire home, yet pawnshops flourish + exceedingly, although the people possess nothing worth pawning. Children + are half fed, for the earnings of parents are too meagre to allow a + sufficient quantity of nourishing food; but public-houses do a roaring + trade on the ready-money principle, while the chandler supplies scraps of + food and half-ounces of tea on very long credit. + </p> + <p> + Money, too, is scarce, very scarce, yet harpies grow rich by lending the + inhabitants small sums from a shilling up to a pound at a rate of interest + that would stagger and paralyse the commercial world. Doctors must needs + to content with a miserable remuneration for their skilled and devoted + services, when paid at all! but burial societies accumulate millions from + a weekly collection of ill-spared coppers. Strangest of all, undertakers + thrive exceedingly, but the butcher and baker find it hard work to live. + </p> + <p> + Yes, the underworld of London is full of strange anomalies and queer + contradictions. When I survey it I become a victim to strange and + conflicting emotions. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes I am disgusted with the dirt and helplessness of the people. + Sometimes I burn with indignation at their wrongs. But when I enter their + houses I feel that I would like to be an incendiary on a wholesale scale. + Look again! I found the boot-machinist widow that I have mentioned, in + Bethnal Green; she was ill in bed, lying in a small room; ill though she + was, and miniature as the room was, two girls aged twelve and fourteen + slept with her and shared her bed, while a youth and a boy slept in a + coal-hole beneath the stairs. Nourishment and rest somewhat restored the + woman, and to give her and the children a chance I took for them a larger + house. I sent them bedding and furniture, the house being repaired and + repainted, for the previous tenant had allowed it to take fire, but the + fire had not been successful enough! I called on the family at midday, and + as I stood in the room, bugs dropped from the ceiling upon me. The widow's + work was covered with them; night and day the pests worried the family, + there was no escaping them; I had to fly, and again remove the family. How + can the poor be clean and self-respecting under such conditions! + </p> + <p> + For be it known this is the normal condition of thousands of human + habitations in London's great underworld. How can cleanliness and + self-respect survive? Yet sometimes they do survive, but at a terrible + cost, for more and still more of the weekly income must go in rent, which + means less and still less for food and clothing. Sometimes the grossness + and impurity, the ignorance and downright wickedness of the underworld + appal and frighten me. + </p> + <p> + But over this I must draw a veil, for I dare not give particulars; I + think, and think, and ask myself again and again what is to be the end of + it all! Are we to have two distinct races! those below and those above? Is + Wells' prophecy to come true; will the one race become uncanny, loathsome + abortions with clammy touch and eyes that cannot face the light? Will the + other become pretty human butterflies? I hope not, nay, I am sure that + Wells is wrong! For there is too much real goodness in the upper world and + too much heroism and endurance in the underworld to permit such an + evolution to come about. + </p> + <p> + But it is high time that such a possibility was seriously considered. It + is high time, too, that the lives and necessities, the wrongs and the + rights of even the gross poor in the underworld were considered. + </p> + <p> + For the whole social and industrial system is against them. Though many of + them are parasites, preying upon society or upon each other, yet even they + become themselves the prey of other parasites, who drain their blood night + and day. + </p> + <p> + So I ask in all seriousness, is it not high time that the exploitation of + the poor, because they are poor, should cease. See how it operates: a + decent married woman loses her husband; his death leaves her dependent + upon her own labour. She has children who hitherto have been provided with + home life, food and clothing; in fact the family had lived a little above + the poverty line, though not far removed from it. + </p> + <p> + She had lived in the upper world, but because her husband dies, she is + precipitated into the lower world, to seek a new home and some occupation + whereby she and her children may live. + </p> + <p> + Because she is a widow, and poor and helpless, she becomes the prey of the + sweater. Henceforth she must work interminable hours for a starvation + wage. Because she is a mother, poor and helpless, she becomes the prey of + the house farmer. Henceforward half her earnings must go in rent, though + her house and its concomitants are detestable beyond words. + </p> + <p> + But though she is poor, her children must be fed, and though she is a + widowed mother, she, even she, must eat sometimes. Henceforward she must + buy food of a poor quality, in minute quantities, of doubtful weight, at + the highest price. She is afraid that death may enter her home and find + her unprepared for a funeral, so she pays one penny weekly for each of her + children and twopence for herself to some collection society. + </p> + <p> + All through this procedure her very extremities provide opportunities to + others for spoliation, and so her continued life in the underworld is + assured. But her children are ill-nourished, ill-clothed, ill-lodged and + ill-bathed, and the gutter is their playground. They do not develop + properly in mind or body, when of age they are very poor assets considered + financially or industrially. They become permanent residents of the + underworld and produce after their kind. + </p> + <p> + So the underworld is kept populated from many sources. Widows with their + children are promptly kicked into it, others descend into it by a slow + process of social and industrial gravitation. Some descend by the downward + path of moral delinquency, and some leap into it as if to commit moral and + social death. + </p> + <p> + And surely 'tis a mad world! How can it be otherwise with all this varied + and perplexed humanity seething it, with all these social and industrial + wrongs operating upon it. But I see the dawn of a brighter day! when + helpless widow mothers will no longer be the spoil of the sweater and the + house "farmer." The dawn has broke! before these words are printed + thousands of toiling women in London's underworld will rejoice! for the + wages of cardboard box-makers will be doubled. The sun is rising! for one + by one all the terrible industries in which the women of the underworld + are engaged will of a certainty come within the operations of a law that + will stay the hand of the oppressors. And there will be less toil for the + widows and more food for the children in the days that are to be. + </p> + <p> + But before that day fully comes, let me implore the women of the upper + world to be just if not generous to the women below. Let me ask them not + to exact all their labours, nor to allow the extremities of their sisters + to be a reason for under-payment when useful service is rendered. Again I + say, and I say it with respect and sorrow, that many women are thoughtless + if not unjust in their business dealings with other women. + </p> + <p> + I am more concerned for the industrial and social rights of women than I + am for their political rights; votes they may have if you please. But by + all that is merciful let us give them justice! For the oppression of + women, whether by women or men, means a perpetuation of the underworld + with all its sorrows and horrors; and the under-payment of women has a + curse that smites us all the way round. + </p> + <p> + And if a word of mine can reach the toiling sisters in the netherworld, I + would say to them: Be hopeful! Patient I know you to be! enduring you + certainly are! brave beyond expression I have found you. Now add to your + virtues, hope! + </p> + <p> + For you have need of it, and you have cause for it. I rejoice that so many + of you are personally known to me! You and I, my sisters, have had much + communion, and many happy times together; for sometimes we have had + surcease from toil and a breath of God's fresh air together. + </p> + <p> + Be hopeful! endure a little longer; for a new spirit walks this old world + to bless it, and to right your long-continued wrongs. + </p> + <p> + Oh! how you have suffered, sisters mine! and while I have been writing + this chapter you have all been around me. But you are the salt of the + underworld; you are much better than the ten just men that were not found + in Sodom. And when for the underworld the day of redemption arrives, it + will be you, my sisters, the simple, the suffering, enduring women that + will have hastened it! + </p> + <p> + So I dwell upon the good that is in the netherworld, in the sure and + certain hope, whether my feeble words and life help forward the time or + not, that the day is not far distant when the dead shall rise! When + justice, light and sweetness will prevail, and in prevailing will purify + the unexplored depths of the sad underworld. + </p> + <p> + I offer no apology for inserting the following selections from London + County Council proceedings. Neither do I make any comment, other than to + say that the statements made present matters in a much too favourable + light. + </p> + <p> + "LONDON'S CHILD SLAVES "OVERWORK AND BAD NUTRITION + </p> + <p> + "Disclosures in L.C.C. Report. + </p> + <p> + (From the Daily Press, December 1911) + </p> + <p> + "The comments passed by members of the L.C.C. at the Education Committee + meeting upon the annual report of the medical officer of that committee + made it clear that many very interesting contents of the report had not + been made public. + </p> + <p> + "The actual report, which we have now seen, contains much more that + deserves the serious attention of all who are interested in the problem of + the London school child. + </p> + <p> + "There is, for example, a moving page on child life in a north-west + poverty area, where, among other conditions, it is not uncommon to find + girls of ten doing a hard day's work outside their school work; they are + the slaves of their mothers and grandmothers. + </p> + <p> + "The great amount of anaemia and malnutrition among the children in this + area (says the report) is due to poverty, with its resultant evils of + dirt, ill-feeding and under-feeding, neglect and female labour. + </p> + <p> + "Cheap food.—The necessity for buying cheap food results in the + purchasing of foodstuffs which are deficient in nutrient properties. The + main articles of diet are indifferent bread and butter, the fag ends of + coarse meat, the outside leaves of green vegetables, and tea, and an + occasional pennyworth of fried fish and potatoes. Children who are + supplied with milk at school, or who are given breakfast and dinner, + respond at once to the better feeding, and show distinct improvement in + their class work. The unemployment among the men obliges the women to seek + for work outside the home, and the under-payment of female labour has its + effect upon the nutrition of the family. + </p> + <p> + "'Investigation in the senior departments of one school showed that 144 + children were being supported by their mothers only, 57 were living on + their sisters, 68 upon the joint earnings of elder brothers and sisters, + while another 130 had mothers who went out to work in order to supplement + the earnings of the father. + </p> + <p> + "'Approximately one-third of the children in this neighbourhood are + supported by female labour. With the mother at work the children rapidly + become neglected, the boys get out of control, they play truant, they + learn to sleep out, and become known to the police while they are still in + the junior mixed department.' + </p> + <p> + "The Girl Housewife.—The maintenance of the home, the cooking and + catering, is done by an elderly girl who sometimes may not be more than + ten years of age. The mother's earnings provide bread and tea for the + family and pay the rent, but leave nothing over for clothing or boots. + </p> + <p> + "Many of the boys obtain employment out of school hours, for which they + are paid and for which they may receive food; others learn to hang about + the gasworks and similar places, and get scraps of food and halfpence from + the workmen. In consequence they may appear to be better nourished than + the girls 'who work beyond their strength at domestic work, step cleaning, + baby minding, or carrying laundry bundles and running errands.' For this + labour they receive no remuneration, since it is done for the family. + </p> + <p> + "A remarkable paragraph of the report roundly declares— + </p> + <p> + "'The provision generally at cost price of school meals for all who choose + to pay for them would be a national economy, which would do much to + improve the status of the feeding centres and the standard of feeding. + This principle is applied most successfully in schools of a higher grade, + and might well be considered in connection with the ordinary elementary + schools of the Council. Such a provision would probably be of the greatest + benefit to the respectable but very poor, who are too proud to apply for + charity meals, and whose children are often penalised by want, and the + various avoidable defects or ailments that come in its train.' + </p> + <p> + "Feeding wanted.—Of the children of a Bethnal Green school, the + school doctor is quoted as reporting that 'it was not hospital treatment + but feeding that was wanted.' + </p> + <p> + "Among curious oddments of information contained in the report, it is + mentioned that the children of widows generally show superior physique. + </p> + <p> + "The teeth are often better in children from the poorer homes, 'perhaps + from use on rougher food materials which leaves less DEBRIS to undergo + fermentation.' + </p> + <p> + "'Children of poorer homes also often have the advantage of the fresh air + of the streets, whilst the better-off child is kept indoors and becomes + flabby and less resistant to minor ailments. The statistics of infantile + mortality suggest that the children of the poorer schools have also gone + through a more severe selection; disease weeding out by natural selection, + and the less fit having succumbed before school age, the residue are of + sturdier type than in schools or classes where such selection has been + less intense.'" + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE NOMADS + </h2> + <p> + A considerable portion of the inhabitants of the world below the line are + wanderers, without home, property, work or any visible means of existence. + For twenty years it has been the fashion to speak of them as the + "submerged," and a notable philanthropist taught the public to believe + that they formed one-tenth of our population. + </p> + <p> + It was currently reported in the Press that the philanthropist I have + referred to offered to take over and salve this mass of human wreckage for + the sum of one million pounds. His offer was liberally responded to; + whether he received the million or not does not matter, for he has at any + rate been able to call to his assistance thousands of men and women, and + to set them to work in his own peculiar way to save the "submerged." + </p> + <p> + From a not unfriendly book just published, written by one who was for more + than twenty years intimately associated with him, and one of the chief + directors of his salvage work, we learn that the result has largely been a + failure. + </p> + <p> + To some of us this failure had been apparent for many years, and though we + hoped much from the movement, we could not close our eyes to facts, and + reluctantly had to admit that the number of the "submerged" did not + appreciably lessen. + </p> + <p> + True, shelters, depots, bridges, homes and labour homes were opened with + astonishing celerity. Wood was chopped and paper sorted in immense + quantities, but shipwrecked humanity passed over bridges that did not lead + to any promised land, and abject humanity ascended with the elevators that + promptly lowered them to depths on the other side. + </p> + <p> + Stimulated by the apparent success or popularity of the Salvation Army, + the Church Army sprang into existence, and disputed with the former the + claim to public patronage, and the right to save! It adopted similar + means, it is certain with similar results, for the "submerged" are still + with us. + </p> + <p> + I say that both these organisations pursued the same methods and worked + practically on the same lines, for both called into their service a number + of enthusiastic young persons, clothed them in uniforms, horribly + underpaid them, and set them to work to save humanity and solve social and + industrial problems, problems for which wiser and more experienced people + fail to find a solution. It would be interesting to discover what has + become of the tens of thousands of enthusiastic men and women who have + borne the uniform of these organisations for periods longer or shorter, + and who have disappeared from the ranks. + </p> + <p> + How many of them are "submerged" I cannot say, but I know that some have + been perilously near it. + </p> + <p> + I am persuaded that this is a dangerous procedure, very dangerous + procedure, and the subscribing public has some right to ask what has + become of all the "officers" who, drawn from useful work to these + organisations, have disappeared. + </p> + <p> + But as a continual recruiting keeps up the strength, the subscribing + public does not care to ask, for the public is quite willing to part with + its vested interests in human wreckage. All this leads me to say once more + that the "submerged" are still with us. Do you doubt it? Then come with + me; let us take a midnight walk on the Thames Embankment; any night will + do, wet or dry, winter or summer! + </p> + <p> + Big Ben is striking the hour as we commence our walk at Blackfriars; we + have with us a sack of food and a number of second-hand overcoats. The + night is cold, gusty and wet, and we think of our warm and comfortable + beds and almost relinquish our expedition. The lights on Blackfriars + Bridge reveal the murky waters beneath, and we see that the tide is + running out. + </p> + <p> + We pass in succession huge buildings devoted to commerce, education, + religion and law; we pass beautiful gardens, and quickly we arrive at the + Temple. The lamps along the roadway give sufficient light for our purpose, + for they enable us to see that here and there on the seats and in the + recesses of the Embankment are strange beings of both sexes. + </p> + <p> + Yonder are two men, unkempt and unshaven, their heads bent forward and + their hands thrust deep into their trousers pockets and, to all + appearance, asleep. + </p> + <p> + Standing in a sheltered corner of the Temple Station we see several other + men, who are smoking short pipes which they replenish from time to time + with bits of cigars and cigarettes that they have gathered during the day + from the streets of London. + </p> + <p> + I know something of the comedy and tragedy of cigar ends, for times and + again I have seen a race and almost a struggle for a "fat end" when some + thriving merchant has thrown one into the street or gutter. Suddenly + emerging from obscurity and showing unexpected activity, two half-naked + fellows have made for it; I have seen the satisfaction of the fellow who + secured it, and I have heard the curse of the disappointed; but there! at + any time, on any day, near the Bank, or the Mansion House, in Threadneedle + Street, or in Cheapside such sights may be seen by those who have eyes to + see. + </p> + <p> + These two fellows have been successful, for they are assuaging the pangs + of hunger by smoking their odds and ends. They look at us as we pass to + continue our investigation. Here on a seat we find several men of motley + appearance; one is old and bent, his white beard covers his chest, he has + a massive head, he is a picturesque figure, and would stand well for a + representation of Old Father Thames, for the wet streams from his hair, + his beard and his ample moustache. Beside him sits a younger man, weak and + ill. His worn clothing tells us of better days, and we instinctively + realise that not much longer will he sit out the midnight hours on the + cold Embankment. + </p> + <p> + Before we distribute our clothes and food, we continue our observation. + What strikes us most is the silence, for no one speaks to us, no hand is + held out for a gift, no requests are made for help. + </p> + <p> + They look at us unconcernedly as we pass; they appear to bear their + privations with indifference or philosophy. Yonder is a woman leaning over + the parapet looking into the mud and water below; we speak to her, and she + turns about and faces us. Then we realise that Hood's poem comes into our + mind; we offer her a ticket for a "shelter," which she declines; we offer + her food, but she will have none of it; she asks us to leave her, and we + pass on. + </p> + <p> + Here is a family group, father and mother with two children; their attire + and appearance tell us that they are tramps; the mother has a babe close + to her breast, and round it she has wrapt her old shawl; a boy of five + sits next to her, and the father is close up. + </p> + <p> + The parents evidently have been bred in vagrancy, and the children, and, + unless the law intervenes, their children are destined to continue the + species. The whining voice of the woman and the outstretched hands of the + boy let us know that they are eager and ready for any gift that pity can + bestow. + </p> + <p> + But we give nothing, and let me say that after years of experience, I + absolutely harden my heart and close my pocket against the tramping beggar + that exploits little children. And to those who drag children, droning out + hymns through our quiet streets on Sunday, my sympathies extend to a + horsewhip. + </p> + <p> + We leave the tramps, and come upon a poor shivering wretch of about + thirty-five years; his face presents unmistakable signs of disease more + loathsome than leprosy; he is not fit to live, he is not fit to die; he is + an outcast from friends, kindred and home. He carries his desolation with + him, and the infirmary or the river will be the end of him. + </p> + <p> + Here are two stalwart fellows, big enough and strong enough to do useful + work in the world. But they are fresh from prison, and will be back in + prison before long; they know us, for it is not the first time we have + made their acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + They are by no means backward in speaking and telling us that they want + "just ten shillings to buy stock in Houndsditch which they can sell in + Cheapside." As we move away they beg insistently for "just a few + shillings; they don't want to get back to prison." + </p> + <p> + Now we come to a youth of eighteen; he seems afraid, and looks at us with + suspicious eyes; what is he doing here? We are interested in him, so + young, yet alone on the Embankment. We open our bag and offer him food, + which he accepts and eats; as we watch him our pity increases: he is + thinly clad, and the night air is damp and cold; we select an old coat, + which he puts on. Then we question him, and he tells us that his mother is + dead, his father remarried; that his stepmother did not like him, and in + consequence his father turned him out; that he cannot get work. And so on; + a common story, no originality about it, and not much truth! + </p> + <p> + We suddenly put the question, "How long have you lived in lodging-houses?" + "About three years, sir." "What did you work at?" "Selling papers in the + streets." "Anything else?" "No, sir." "You had not got any lodging money + to-night.?" "No." "Ever been in prison?" "Only twice." "What for?" + "Gambling in the streets," and we leave him, conscious that he is neither + industrious, honest nor truthful. + </p> + <p> + We come at length to Waterloo Bridge, and here in the corners and recesses + of the steps we find still more of the submerged, and a pitiful lot they + are. + </p> + <p> + We look closely at them, and we see that some are getting back to primeval + life, and that some are little more than human vegetables. We know that + their chief requirements are food, sleep and open air; and that given + these their lives are ideal, to themselves! But we distribute our food + amongst them, we part with our last old coat, we give tickets for free + shelters, but we get no thanks, and we know well enough that the shelter + tickets will not be used, for it is much easier for philosophic + vagabondage to remain curled up where it is than to struggle on to a + shelter. + </p> + <p> + So we leave them, and with a feeling of hopelessness hurry home to our + beds. + </p> + <p> + But let us revisit the Embankment by day at 11 a.m. We take our stand + right close to Cleopatra's Needle; we see that numbers of wretched people, + male and female, are already there, and are forming themselves into a + queue three deep, the males taking the Westminster side of the Needle, the + females the City side. + </p> + <p> + While this regiment of a very dolorous army is gathering together, and + forming silently and passively into the long queue, we look at the ancient + obelisk, and our mind is carried backward to the days of old, when the old + stone stood in the pride of its early life, and with its clear-cut + hieroglyphics spoke to the wonderful people who comprised the great nation + of antiquity. + </p> + <p> + We almost appeal to it, and feel that we would like to question it, as it + stands pointing heavenwards beside our great river. Surely the ancient + stone has seen some strange sights, and heard strange sounds in days gone + by. + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily we ask whether it has seen stranger sights, and heard more + doleful sounds than the sights to be seen under its shadow to-day, and the + sounds to be heard around it by night. Could it speak, doubtless it would + tell of the misery, suffering, slavery endured by the poor in Egypt + thousands of years ago. Maybe it would tell us that the great empire of + old had the same difficulties to face and the same problems to solve that + Great Britain is called upon to face and to solve to-day. + </p> + <p> + For the poor cried for bread in the days of the Pharaohs, and they were + crowded into unclean places, but even then great and gorgeous palaces were + built. + </p> + <p> + "Can you tell us, Ancient Stone, has there been an onward march of good + since that day? Are we much better, wiser, happier and stronger than the + dusky generations that have passed away?" But we get no response from the + ancient stone, as grim and silent it stands looking down upon us. So we + turn to the assembled crowd. See how it has grown whilst we have been + speculating. Silently, ceaselessly over the various bridges, or through + the various streets leading from the Strand they have come, and are still + coming. + </p> + <p> + There is no firm footstep heard amongst them as they shufflingly take + their places. No eager expectation is seen on any face, but quietly, + indifferently, without crushing, elbowing, they join the tail-end of the + procession and stand silently waiting for the signal that tells them to + move. + </p> + <p> + Let us walk up and down to count them, for it is nearly twelve o'clock, + and at twelve o'clock the slow march begins. So we count them by threes, + and find five hundred men to the right and one hundred women to the left, + all waiting, silently waiting! Stalwart policemen are there to keep order, + but their services are not required. + </p> + <p> + In the distance the whirl of London's traffic raises its mighty voice; + nearer still, the passing tramcars thunder along, and the silence of the + waiting crowd is made more apparent by these contrasts. + </p> + <p> + Big Ben booms the hour! it is twelve o'clock! and the slow march begins; + three by three they slowly approach the Needle, and each one is promptly + served with a small roll of bread and a cup of soup; as each one receives + the bread and soup he steps out of the ranks, promptly and silently drinks + his soup, and returns the cup. Rank follows rank till every one is served, + then silently and mysteriously the crowd melts away and disappears. The + police go to other duties, the soup barrows are removed; the grim ancient + stone stands once more alone. + </p> + <p> + But a few hours later, even as Big Ben is booming six, the "Miserables" + will be again waiting, silently waiting for the rolls of bread and the + cups of soup, and having received them will again mysteriously disappear, + to go through the same routine at twelve o'clock on the morrow. Aye! and + to return on every morrow when soup and rolls are to be had. + </p> + <p> + It looks very pitiful, this mass of misery. It seems very comforting to + know that they are fed twice a day with rolls and soup, but after all the + matter wants looking at very carefully, and certain questions must be + asked. + </p> + <p> + Who are these miserables? How comes it that they are so ready to receive + as a matter of course the doles of food provided for them? Are they really + helped, and is their position really improved by this kind of charity? I + venture to say no! I go farther, and I say very decidedly that so long as + the bulk of these people can get food twice a day, and secure some kind of + shelter at night, they will remain content to be as they are. I will go + still farther and say, that if this provision becomes permanent the number + of the miserables will increase, and the Old Needle will continue to look + down on an ever-growing volume of poverty and wretchedness. + </p> + <p> + For after receiving the soup and bread, these nomads disappear into the + streets and by-ways of London, there by hook or crook, by begging or other + means, to secure a few coppers, to pick up scraps of food, and to return + to the Embankment. + </p> + <p> + I have walked up and down the Embankment, I have looked searchingly at the + people assembled. Some of them I have recognised as old acquaintances; + many of them, I know, have no desire to be other than what they are. To + eat, to sleep, to have no responsibility, to be free to live an + uncontrolled life, are their ambitions; they have no other. Some of them + are young men, only twenty years of age, who have seen the inside of + prison again and again. Some of them are older, who have tramped the + country in the summer time and have been drawn to London by the attraction + of an easy feeding in the winter. Search their ranks! and you will find + very little genuine, unfortunate, self-respecting poverty. They are what + they are, and unless other means are adopted they will, remain what they + are! + </p> + <p> + And so they will eat the bread and drink the soup; they will come at + twelve o'clock noon; they will come at six o'clock in the evening. They + will sleep where they can, and to-morrow will be as to-day; and the next + day as to-morrow, unless some compulsion is applied to them. + </p> + <p> + All this is very sad, but I venture to say it is true, and it seems to be + one of the evils almost inseparable from our present life. Probably in + every clime and every age such women and men have existed. The savage + lives in all of us, and the simple life has its attractions. To be free of + responsibility is, no doubt, a natural aspiration. But when I see how easy + it is for this class of people to obtain food, when I see how easy it is + for them to obtain shelter, when I see and know how thousands of the poor + are unceasingly at work in order to provide a modicum of food and the + semblance of a shelter, then it occurs to me, and I am sure it will to any + one who thinks seriously upon the matter, that these men and women, who + are harking back to the life of the idle savage, are treated better in + Christian England than the industrious, self-respecting but unfortunate + poor. But come with me to see another sight! It is again afternoon, and we + take our stand at 3.30 p.m. outside a shelter for women which every night + receives, for fourpence each, some hundreds of submerged women. + </p> + <p> + The doors will not be opened till six o'clock, so we are in time to watch + them as they arrive to take their places in the waiting queue. A policeman + is present to preserve order and keep the pavement clear; but his service + is not required, for the women are very orderly, and allow plenty of room + for passers-by. + </p> + <p> + As the time for opening approaches, the number of waiting women increases + until there is a waiting silent crowd. No photograph could give the + slightest idea of their appearance, for dirt and misery are not revealed + by photography. + </p> + <p> + Let us look at them, for the human eye sees most! What do we see? Squalor, + vice, misery, dementia, feeble minds and feeble bodies. Old women on the + verge of the grave eating scraps of food gathered from the City dustbins. + Dirty and repulsive food, dirty and repulsive women! who have begged + during the day enough coppers to pay for their lodging by night. Girls of + twenty, whose conduct in their homes has been outrageous, and whose life + in London must be left to imagination. Middle-aged women, outcasts, whose + day has past, but who have still capabilities for begging and stealing. + The whole company presents an altogether terrible picture, and we are + conscious that few of the women have either the ability or the desire to + render decent service to the community, or to live womanly lives. + </p> + <p> + At length the door opens, and we watch them pass silently in, to sleep + during the night in the boxes arranged on the floors, their bodies + unwashed, and their clothing unchanged. Happy are such women when some + trumpery theft lands them in prison, for there at any rate a change of + clothing is provided, and a bath is compulsory. + </p> + <p> + If we stand outside a men's shelter, we see a similar state of things, a + waiting crowd. A passive, content, strange mixed lot of humans. Some of + them who have been well educated, but are now reaping the harvest that + follows the sowing of wild oats. The submerged males are, on the whole, + less repulsive than the women; dirt is less in evidence, and they exhibit + a better standard of health. But many of them are harking back to nature, + and remind us of the pictures we have seen of primeval man. + </p> + <p> + I want to say a few words about the submerged that congregate on the + Thames Embankment, and the humanity we have seen enter the cheap shelters. + </p> + <p> + My experience has shown me that they constitute the lowest grade and the + least hopeful class of the submerged. Amongst them there are very few + decent and helpable men and women who are capable of rising to a higher + life. Say what we will, be as pitiful as we may, those of us who have much + experience of life know perfectly well that there exists a large class of + persons who are utterly incapable of fulfilling the duties of decent + citizenship. It may be that they are wicked, and it is certain that they + are weak, but whether wicked or weak, they have descended by the law of + moral gravitation and have found their level in the lowest depths of + civilised life. + </p> + <p> + And they come from unexpected quarters, for some who have known comfort + and refinement are now quite content with their present conditions. + Whether born of refined parents, or of rude and ignorant parents, whether + coming from a tramping stock, or from settled home life, they have one + thing in common. It is this—the life they live has a powerful + attraction for them; they could not if they would, and would not if they + could, live lives that demand decency, discipline and industry. Nothing + but compulsion will ever induce them to submit themselves to disciplined + life. But let it be clearly understood that I am now speaking only of the + lowest class of the submerged. While my experience has taught me that + they, humanly speaking, are a hopeless lot, I have learned that they have + their qualities. They can endure if they cannot work; they can suffer if + they cannot strive. After all I am persuaded that they get a fair amount + of happiness. Simple pleasures are the greatest, perhaps the only real + pleasures. We all like to be free of responsibilities. There is no + rent-day coming round with dread certainty and irritating monotony to the + nomads. No rate collector irritates them with his imperious "demand note." + No school-board officer rouses them to a sense of duty by his everlasting + efforts to force their children to school. No butcher, no baker, no + milkman duns them for payment of bills long overdue! They escape the + danger of furniture on the "hire system." For them no automatic gas meter + grudgingly doles out its niggardly pennyworths of gas. They are not + implored to burden themselves with the ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA. + </p> + <p> + They are free from the seductions of standard bread; paper-bag cookery + causes them no anxious thought. Even "sweet peas" do not enter into their + simple calculations. Finally no life assurance agent marks them for his + prey, and no income-tax tempts them to lie! From all these things they are + free, and I would like to know who would not wish to be free of them and a + thousand other worries I would escape them if I could, but alas I cannot. + </p> + <p> + Decidedly there is much to be said for the life of a nomad, but whether or + not I should place him among the inhabitants of the underworld I am not + sure; for he toils not, neither does he spin, and his bitterest enemies + cannot accuse him of taking thought for the morrow. I had almost forgotten + one great advantage he possesses: he need not wash; and when this + distasteful operation becomes, for sanitary reasons, absolutely necessary, + why then he can take a month in one of our great sanatoria, either prison + or workhouse will do, and be thoroughly cleansed! + </p> + <p> + The idea of such free and easy folk being saved by a shelter and + wood-chopping is very funny. + </p> + <p> + But we are all tramps, more or less; it is only a question of degree! Who + would not like to tramp with George Borrow through Spain or Wales I would + like the chance! Who does not feel and hear the "call of the wild"? Most + certainly all Britons thrill with it. Who does not like to feel the "wind + on the heath" beat on his face and fill his nostrils! Who does not love + the sweetness of country lanes, or the solitude of mountains, or the + whispering mystery of the wood, or the terrors of the sea, or the silence + of midnight? + </p> + <p> + All these things are ingrained in us, part and parcel of our very selves; + we cannot get away from them if we would, and woe betide us if we did! For + this is a grand quality in itself, one that has made our nation and our + empire. But couple it with idleness, inertia, feebleness, weak minds, and + weaker bodies; why, then you get the complete article, the vegetable + human! the guinea-pig man; if you will, the "submerged," or at any rate a + portion of them. + </p> + <p> + Originally I have no doubt the human family were nomads, and many of our + good old instincts still survive, but civilisation has killed others. In + every cross-bred species of animals or plants there are "reverts" or + "throwbacks," and the human family produces plenty of them. Every + civilised country has its "throwbacks," and the more monotonous + civilisation becomes, the more cast-iron its rules, and the more + scientific and educated its people, the more onerous and difficult become + the responsibilities and duties of citizenship; and the greater the + likelihood of in increased number of reverts to undisciplined and wild + life. In this direction the sea and our colonies are the safeguard of + England. But to-day we pay in meal or malt for our civilisation, for many + brave lads, with thews and muscles, are chafing, fretting and wearing out + their hearts in dull London offices or stores, where they feel choked, + hampered, cabined and confined, for civilisation chains them to their + desks. + </p> + <p> + But I am wandering too! I will hark back. Another cause, and a fruitful + cause, of nomadic life is to be found in the ever-increasing number of + young incapables that our present-day life produces. Characterless, + backboneless, negative kind of fellows with neither wisdom nor stature + abound. Up to eighteen years they pass muster, but after that age they are + useless; in reality they need caring for all their lives. They possess no + initiative, no self-reliance, and little capability for honest work, + unless it be simple work done under close supervision. Our industrial life + is too strenuous for these young men; they are laggards in life's race, + they quickly fall behind, and ultimately become disqualified altogether. + </p> + <p> + Many of their parents refuse them shelter, the streets become their home; + absolute idleness supervenes; their day is past. Henceforward they are + lodging-house habitues, or wanderers on the face of the earth. + </p> + <p> + More pitiable still is the case of those that may be classed as + feeble-minded, and who are just responsible enough to be quite + irresponsible. Idiots and imbeciles have largely disappeared from country + villages and small towns. They are well taken care of, for our large + asylums are full of them; they have good quarters, good food, every + attention, so they live long in the land. + </p> + <p> + But the case is very different with the half imbeciles or the half mad. + Short terms of imprisonment with short periods of hopeless, useless + liberty and an occasional spell in the workhouse constitute the circle of + their lives; and a vicious circle it is. Can any life be more pitiable? + Sane enough to know that they are not quite sane, insane enough to have no + wish to control their animal or vicious instincts. Possessing no + education, strength or skill, of no possible use in industrial life, with + no taste for decency or social life; sleeping by day in our parks, and by + night upon the Embankment. But they mate; and as like meets with like the + result may be imagined! Here again we are paying for our neglect of many + serious matters. Bad housing, overcrowding, incessant work by the mothers + whilst bearing children, drinking habits among the parents, insufficient + food for the children, endless anxieties and worries. All these things and + more amongst that portion of the nation which produces the largest + families; what wonder that many incapable bodies and minds result! + </p> + <p> + But if civilisation allows all this, civilisation must pay the penalty, + which is not a light one, and continue to have the miserables upon the + Embankment. + </p> + <p> + Have we no pity! no thought for the next generation, no concern for + ourselves! No! I do not recommend a lethal chamber, but I do strongly + advise permanent detention and segregation for these low types of + unfortunate humanity. Nothing less will avail, and expensive though it + might be for a time, it would pay in the near future, and would be at once + an act of mercy and justice. + </p> + <p> + Yes, on the Thames Embankment extremes meet, the ages are bridged over, + for the products of our up-to-date civilisation stand side by side with + the products of primeval habits and nomadic life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. LODGING-HOUSES + </h2> + <p> + The inmates of the underworld lodging-houses are a queer and heterogeneous + lot; but they are much to be preferred to the sleepers out; because + rascally though many of them are, there is a good deal of self-reliance + and not a little enterprise amongst them. By hook and crook, and, it is to + be feared, mostly by crook, they obtain sufficient money for food and + lodging, and to this extent they are an improvement upon the sleepers out. + They have, too, some pluck, perseverance and talents that, rightly + applied, might be of considerable benefit to the community. But having got + habituated to the liberty of common lodging-houses, and to the excitement + of getting day by day just enough for each day's need, though sometimes + fasting and sometimes feasting, the desire for settled home life and for + the duties of citizenship has vanished. For with the money to pay night by + night for their lodgings, responsibility to rent and tax collector ends. + </p> + <p> + I must allow some exceptions, for once every year there comes upon + thousands of them the burden of finding five shillings to pay for the + hawker's licence that provides them with the semblance of a living, or an + excuse for begging. After much experience of this class, including many + visits to common lodging-houses, and some friendships with the inmates, I + am sure that the desire to be untrammelled with social and municipal + obligation leads a great percentage of the occupants to prefer the life to + any other. They represent to some extent in this modern and industrial age + the descendants of Jonadab, the son of Rechab, with this exception, they + are by no means averse to the wine-cup. It is to be feared that there is a + growth in this portion of our community, for every scheme for providing + decent lodgings for casually homeless men is eagerly taken advantage of by + men who might and who ought to live in homes of their own, and so fulfil + the duties of decent citizenship. In this respect even Lord Rowton's + estimable lodging-houses, and those, too, of our municipal authorities + prove no exception, for they attract numbers of men who ought not to be + there, but who might, with just a little more self-reliance and + self-respect, live comfortably outside. + </p> + <p> + But I pass on to the common lodging-houses that accommodate a lower class + than is found in municipal or Rowton houses. Probably none, or at any rate + very few, of my readers have had a practical experience of common + lodging-houses. I have, so therefore I ask them to accompany me to one of + them. + </p> + <p> + In a dingy slum stand a number of grimy houses that have been converted + into one big house. The various doorways have been blocked and one + enlarged entrance serves. + </p> + <p> + As we enter, the money-taker in his office demands our business. We tell + him that we are anxious to have a look round, and he tells us that he will + send for the deputy. The deputy is the autocrat that governs with + undisputable sway in this domain of semi-darkness and dirt. We stand aside + in the half-lit passage, taking good care that we have no contact with the + walls; the air we breathe is thick with unpleasant odours, and we realise + at once, and to our complete satisfaction, the smell and flavour of a + common lodging-house. We know instinctively that we have made its + acquaintance before, it seems familiar to us, but we are puzzled about it + until we remember we have had a foretaste of it given to us by some + lodging-house habitues that we met. The aroma of a common lodging-house + cannot be concealed, it is not to be mistaken. The hour is six o'clock + p.m., the days are short, for it is November. The lodgers are arriving, so + we stand and watch them as they pass the little office and pay their + sixpences. Down goes the money, promptly a numbered ticket takes its + place; few words are exchanged, and away go the ticket-holders to the + general kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Presently the deputy comes to interview us, and he does not put us at our + ease; he is a forbidding fellow, one that evidently will stand no + nonsense. Observe, if you please, that he has lost his right hand, and + that a formidable iron hook replaces it. Many a time has that hook been + serviceable; if it could speak, many tales would it tell of victories won, + of rows quelled, and of blood spilled. + </p> + <p> + We have seen the fellow previously, and more than once, at the local + police-court. Sometimes he came as prosecutor, sometimes as prisoner, and + at other times as witness. When the police had been required to supplement + the power of his iron hand in quelling the many free fights, he appeared + sometimes in the dual capacity of prisoner and prosecutor. + </p> + <p> + We know that he retains his position because of his strength and the + unscrupulous way in which he uses it. He knows us too, but he is not well + pleased to see us! Nevertheless, he accedes to our request for "just a + look round." So through a large passage we pass, and he ushers us into the + lodging-house kitchen. As the door opens a babel of many voices greets us, + a rush of warm air comes at us, and the evidence of our noses proclaims + that bloaters and bacon, liver and onions, sausages and fresh fish are + being cooked. We look and see, we see and taste! Strange eyes are turned + upon us just for a moment, but we are not "'tecs," so the eyes are turned + back to the different frying-pans or roasting-forks, as the case may be. + See how they crowd round the huge and open fire, for there is no cooking + range. See how they elbow each other as they want space for this pan or + that fork. See how the bloaters curl and twist as if trying to escape from + the forks and the fire. See how the sausages burst and splutter in their + different pans. See how stolidly the tough steaks brown, refusing either + to splutter, yield fat, or find gravy to assist in their own undoing. + </p> + <p> + Listen to the sizzling that pervades the place, acting as an orchestral + accompaniment to the chorus of human voices. Listen to it all, breathe it + all, let your noses and your ears take it all in. Then let your eyes and + your imagination have their turn before the pungency of rank tobacco adds + to the difficulty of seeing and breathing. And so we look, and we find + there are sixty human beings of both sexes and various ages in that + kitchen. Some of them we know, for have we not seen them in Cheapside, St. + Paul's Churchyard, or elsewhere acting as gutter merchants. Yonder sit an + old couple that we have seen selling matches or laces for many years past! + It is not a race day, and there being no "test match" or exciting football + match, a youth of sixteen who earns a precarious living by selling papers + in the streets sits beside them. To-day papers are at a discount, so he + has given up business for the day and sought warmth and company in his + favourite lodging-house. + </p> + <p> + Ah! there is our old friend, the street ventriloquist! You see the back of + his hand is painted in vivid colours to resemble the face of an old woman. + We know that he has a bundle that contains caps and bonnets, dresses and + skirts that will convert his hand and arm into a quaint human figure. Many + a droll story can he tell, for he has "padded the hoof" from one end of + England to the other; he knows every lodging-house from Newcastle-on-Tyne + to Plymouth. He is a graceless dog, fond of a joke, a laugh and a story; + he is honest enough and intelligent enough for anything. But of regular + life, discipline and work he will have none. By and by, after the cooking + is all done, he will want to give a performance and take up a collection. + </p> + <p> + There are a couple, male and female, who tramp the country lanes; the farm + haystacks or outbuildings have been their resting-places during the + summer, but approaching winter has sent them back to London. + </p> + <p> + You see that they have got a tattered copy of Moody and Sankey's hymns, + which is their stock-in-trade. They have at different lodging-house + "services" picked up some slight knowledge of a limited number of tunes, + now they are trying to commit the words to memory. + </p> + <p> + To-morrow they will in quiet streets be whining out "Oh, where is my boy + to-night?" or "Will you meet me at the Fountain?" + </p> + <p> + Look again—here is a shabby-genteel man who lives by his wits. He is + fairly educated and can write a plausible letter. He is dangerous; his + stock-in-trade comprises local directories, WHO'S WHO, annual reports of + charitable societies, clergymen's lists, etc. He is a begging-letter + writer, and moves from lodging-house to lodging-house; he writes letters + for any of the inmates who have some particular tale of woe to unfold, or + some urgent appeal to make, and he receives the major part of the + resultant charity. + </p> + <p> + He is drunken and bestial, he is a parasite of the worst description, for + he preys alike on the benevolent and upon the poor wretches whose cause he + espouses. + </p> + <p> + He assumes many names, he changes his addresses adroitly, and ticks off + very carefully the names and addresses of people he has defrauded. In + fact, he is so clever and slippery that the police and the Charity + Organisation Society cannot locate him. So he thrives, a type of many, for + every one of London's common lodging-houses can provide us with one or + more such cunning rogues. + </p> + <p> + Yonder sits a "wandering boy" about twenty-eight years of age. He is not + thriving, and he must needs be content with simple bread and cheese. A + roll of cheap "pirated" music lies on his knee and proclaims his method of + living. His life has its dangers, for he has great difficulty in providing + five shillings for his pedlar's licence, and he runs great risk of having + his stock seized by the police, and being committed to prison for a fine + he cannot pay. + </p> + <p> + He has brought sorrow and disgrace upon his parents, no eye brightens at + the mention of his name. Alas! he is a specimen of the "homeless boy" of + whom his neighbours the minstrels will sing to-morrow. He is silent and + moody, for he is not in funds. Are there none among the company whom sheer + misfortune has brought down into this underworld? we ask. Aye, there are, + for in this kitchen there are representatives of all sorts and conditions. + See that man in the corner by himself, speaking to no one, cooking + nothing, eating nothing; he is thinking, thinking! This is his first night + in a common lodging-house; it is all new to him, he thinks it all so + terrible and disgusting. + </p> + <p> + He seems inclined to run and spend his night in the streets, and perhaps + it will be well for him to do so. He looks decent, bewildered and + sorrowful; we know at a glance that some misfortune has tripped him up, we + see that self-respect is not dead within him. We know that if he stays the + night, breathing the foul air, listening to the horrid talk, seeing much + and realising more, feeling himself attacked on every side by the ordinary + pests of common lodging-houses, we know that tomorrow morning his + self-respect will be lessened, his moral power weakened, and his hope of + social recovery almost gone. Let him stay a few weeks, then the + lodging-house will become his home and his joy. So we feel inclined to cry + out and warn him to escape with his life. This is the great evil and + danger of common lodging-houses; needful as they undoubtedly are for the + homeless and the outcast, they place the unfortunate on an inclined plane + down which they slide to complete demoralisation. + </p> + <p> + I am told that there are four hundred large common lodging-houses in + London, many of them capable of holding several hundred lodgers, and which + night after night are filled with a weird collection of humanity. And they + cast a fatal spell upon all who get accustomed to them. Few, very few who + have become acclimatised ever go back to settled home life. For the + decencies, amenities and restraints of citizenship become distasteful. And + truly there is much excitement in the life for excitement, at any rate, + abounds in common lodging-houses. + </p> + <p> + Nothing happens in them but the unexpected, and that brings its joys and + terrors, its laughter and its tears. Here a great deal of unrestrained + human nature is given free play, and the results are exciting if not + edifying. Let us spend an evening, but not a night—that is too much + to ask-with the habitues. + </p> + <p> + We sit apart and listen to the babel of voices, but we listen in vain for + the lodging-house slang of which we are told so much. They speak very much + like other people, and speak on subjects upon which other people speak. + They get as excited as ordinary people, too. + </p> + <p> + Yonder is a lewd fellow shouting obscenities to a female, who, in an + equally loud voice and quite as unmistakable language, returns him a + Roland for every Oliver. + </p> + <p> + Here are a couple of wordy excitable fellows who are arguing the pros and + cons of Free Trade and Tariff Reform. They will keep at it till the lights + are put out, for both are supplied with a plentiful supply of + contradictory literature. Both have fluent tongues, equally bitter, and, + having their audience, they, like other people, must contend for mastery. + Not that they care for the rights or wrongs of either question, for both + are prepared, as occasion serves, to take either side. Religion, too, is + excitedly discussed, for an animated couple are discussing Christian + Evidences, while the ventriloquist gives parsons generally and bishops in + particular a very warm time; even the Pope and General Booth do not escape + his scurrilous but witty indictments. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the street singers are practising songs, sacred and secular, and + our friend the street minstrel produces an old flute and plays an + obbligato, whilst the quivering voice of his poor old wife again wants to + know the whereabouts of her wandering boy. + </p> + <p> + There will be a touching scene when they do meet—may I be there! but + I hope they will not meet in a common lodging-house. Another street + minstrel is practising new tunes upon a mouth-organ, wherewith to soften + the hearts of a too obdurate public. + </p> + <p> + What a babel it all makes; now groups of card-players are getting + quarrelsome, for luck has been against some, or cheating has been + discovered; blows are exchanged, and blood flows! As the night advances, + men and women under the influence of drink arrive. Some are merry, others + are quarrelsome, some are moody and lachrymose. The latter become the butt + of the former, the noise increases, confusion itself becomes confounded, + and we leave to avoid the general MELEE, and to breathe the night air, + which we find grateful and reviving. Phew! but it was hot and thick, we + don't want to breathe it again. It is astonishing that people get used to + it, and like it too! But it leaves its taint upon them, for it permeates + their clothing; they carry it about with them, and any one who gets a + whiff of it gets some idea of the breath of a common lodging-house. And + its moral breath has its effect, too! Woe to all that is fresh and fair, + young and hopeful, that comes within its withering influence. Farewell! a + long farewell to honour, truth and self-respect, for the hot breath of a + common lodging-house will blast those and every other good quality in + young people of either sex that inhale it. Its breath comes upon them, and + lo! they become foul without and vile within, carrying their moral and + physical contagion with them wherever they go. + </p> + <p> + A moral sepulchre, or rather crematorium, is the common lodging-house, for + when its work is done, nothing is left but ashes. For the old habitues I + am not much concerned, and though generally I hold a brief for old + sinners, criminals and convicts, I hold no brief for the old and + middle-aged habitues of a common lodging-house. + </p> + <p> + Can any one call the dead to life? Can any one convert cold flesh into + warm pulsing life? Nay, nay! Talk about being turned into a pillar of + salt! the common lodging-house can do more and worse than that! It can + turn men and women into pillars of moral death, for even the influence of + a long term of penal servitude, withering as it is, cannot for one moment + be compared with the corrupting effect of common lodging-house life. + </p> + <p> + So the old minstrels may go seeking their wandering boy! and the + begging-letter writers may go hang! + </p> + <p> + The human vultures that prey upon the simple and good-natured may, if + middle-aged, continue in their evil ways. But what of the young people of + whom there ought to be hope? What of them? how long are these "lazar + houses" to stand with open door waiting to receive, swallow, transform and + eject young humanity? But there is money in them, of course there is; + there always is money to be made out of sin and misery if the community + permits. + </p> + <p> + Human wreckage pays, and furnishes a bigger profit than more humdrum + investments. I am told by an old habitue with whom I have had endless + talks and who has taught me much, although he is a graceless rascal, that + one man owns eight of these large establishments, and that he and his + family live in respectability and wealth. + </p> + <p> + I have no reason to doubt his statement, for these places are mines of + wealth, but the owners take precious good care not to live in them. And + infinite care that their families do not inhabit them. Some day when we + are wise—but wisdom comes so slowly—these things will not be + left to private enterprise, for municipalities will provide and own them + at no loss to the ratepayers either. + </p> + <p> + Then decency, though homeless, will have a chance of survival, and moral + and physical cleanliness some chance to live, even in a common + lodging-house. + </p> + <p> + Sadly we need a modern St. George who will face and destroy this monstrous + dragon with the fiery breath. + </p> + <p> + Let it not be said that I am unduly hard upon them who from choice or + misfortune inhabit these places. From my heart I pity them, but one cannot + be blind to the general consequences. And these things must be taken into + consideration when efforts are made, as undoubtedly efforts will some day + be made, to tackle this question in a reasonable way. + </p> + <p> + It is high time, too, that the public understood the difficulties that + attend any effort to lift lodging-house habitues to a higher form of + existence. + </p> + <p> + I am bold enough to hazard the statement that the number of these people + increases year by year, and that no redemptive effort has had the + slightest effect in checking the continual increase. As Secretary of the + Howard Association, it is my business year by year to make myself + acquainted with the criminal statistics, and all matters connected with + our prisons. These statistics more than confirm my statement, for they + tell us that while drunkenness, brutality, crimes of violence show a + steady decrease, vagabondage, sleeping out, begging, etc., show a + continual increase as years roll by. + </p> + <p> + Of course many of them appear again and again in the prison statistics, + nevertheless they form a great and terrible army, whose increase bodes ill + for dear and fair old England. + </p> + <p> + Like birds they are migratory, but they pour no sweetness on the morning + or evening air. Like locusts they leave a blight behind. + </p> + <p> + Like famished wolves when winter draws near they seek the habitations of + men. Food they must have! There is corn in Egypt! + </p> + <p> + When gentle spring returns, then heigho! for the country lanes, villages + and provincial towns, and as they move from place to place they leave + their trail behind them. + </p> + <p> + And what a trail it is! ask the governors of our local prisons, ask the + guardians of any country districts, ask the farmers, aye, and ask the + timid women and pretty children, and, my word for it, they will be able to + tell you much of these strange beings that returning summer brings + unfailingly before them. Their lodging is sometimes the cold hard ground, + or the haystack, or perchance, if in luck, an outbuilding. + </p> + <p> + The prisons are their sanatoria, the workhouses their homes of rest, and + the casual ward their temporary conveniences. But always before them is + one objective, for a common lodging-house is open to them, and its + hypnotism draws them on and on. + </p> + <p> + So on they go, procreating as they go. Carrying desolation with them, + leaving desolation behind them. The endurance of these people—I + suppose they must be called people—is marvellous and their rate of + progression is sometimes astonishing; weary and footsore, maimed, halt or + blind they get over the ground at a good uniform pace. + </p> + <p> + Look at that strange being that has just passed us as we sat on the bank + of a country lane; he goes along with slouching gait and halting steps; he + has no boots worthy of the name, his tattered trousers, much too long, + give us glimpses of his flesh. He wears an old frock-coat that hangs + almost to his heels, and a cloth cap, greasy and worn, upon his head. His + beard is wild and abundant, and his hair falls upon his shoulders in a way + worthy of an artist or poet. + </p> + <p> + Follow him, but not too closely, and you will find it hard to keep up with + him, he knows what he is making for. Neither George Borrow nor Runciman + would hold him for a week, for George would want to stop and talk, but + this fellow is silent and grim. A lazar house draws him on, and he needs + must reach it, weak and ill-fed though he is! And he will reach others + too, for he is on a circular tour. But next winter will find him in a + Westminster lodging-house if he has luck, on the Embankment if he has not. + </p> + <p> + He has an easy philosophy: "All the things in the world belong to all the + men in the world," is his outspoken creed, so he steals when he can, and + begs when he cannot steal. + </p> + <p> + But think of this life when women share it, and children are born into it, + and lads and lassies are on the tramp. Dare we think of it? We dare not! + If we did, it would not be tolerated for a day. Neither dare I write about + it, for there are many things that cannot be written. So I leave + imagination to supply what words must not convey. + </p> + <p> + But it is all so pitiful, it is too much for me, for sometimes I feel that + I am living with them, tramping with them, sleeping with them, eating with + them; I am become as one of them. I feel the horror, yet I do not realise + the charms. + </p> + <p> + I am an Englishman! I love liberty! I must be free, or die! I want to + order my own life, to control my own actions, to run on my own lines; I + would that all men should have similar rights. But, alas! it cannot be—civilisation + claims and enchains us; we have to submit to its discipline, and it is + well that it should be so. We do not, cannot live to ourselves, and for + ourselves. Those days have long passed, and for ever. Orderly life and + regular duties are good for us, and necessary for the well-being of the + nation. + </p> + <p> + A strong robust: nation demands and requires a large amount of freedom, + and this it must have, or perish! The individual man, too, requires a fair + amount if he is to be a man. But we may, and we do in some things extend + freedom beyond the legitimate bounds. For in a country of limited area + where the bulk of the people live onerous lives, and manfully perform + their duties, we allow a host of parasites to thrive and swarm. + </p> + <p> + The more this host increases, the weaker the nation becomes, and its + existence may ultimately become not a sign of freedom but a proof of + national decay. For parasites thrive on weakly life, be it individual or + national. So while we have a profound pity for the nomads, let us express + it with a strong hand. They cannot care for themselves in any decent way. + Let us care for them, and detain them in places that will allow permanent + detention and segregation. And the results will be surprising, for prisons + will be less numerous, workhouses, casual wards and asylums less + necessary, lazar houses with their pestilential breath will pass away, and + England will be happier, sweeter and more free! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. FURNISHED APARTMENTS + </h2> + <p> + What fell power decreed that certain streets in London should be devoted + to the purpose of providing "furnished apartments" for the submerged I do + not know. But I do know that some streets are entirely devoted to this + purpose, and that a considerable amount of money is made out of such + houses. + </p> + <p> + I ask my readers to accompany me for a visit to one of these streets, and + make some acquaintance with the houses, the furniture and the inhabitants. + </p> + <p> + The particular streets we select run at a right-angle from a main + thoroughfare, a railway divides them from a beautiful park, and on this + railway City merchants pass daily to and from their suburban homes. + </p> + <p> + I question whether in the whole of London more misery, vice and poverty + can be found located in one limited area than in the streets we are about + to visit. I know them, and I have every reason for knowing them. We make + our visit in summer time, when poverty is supposed to be less acute. As we + enter the street we notice at once that a commodious public-house stands + and thrives at the entrance. We also notice that there are in the street + several "general" shops, where tea and margarine, firewood, pickles, + paraffin oil and cheese, boiled ham and vinegar, corned beef and Spanish + onions, bread and matches are to be obtained. + </p> + <p> + We stand in the middle of the roadway, in the midst of dirt and refuse, + and look up and down the street. Innumerable children are playing in the + gutter or on the pavements, and the whole place teems with life. We + observe that the houses are all alike, the shops excepted. They stand + three-storey high; there are nine rooms in each house. We look in vain for + bright windows and for clean and decent curtains. + </p> + <p> + Every room seems occupied, for there is no card in any window announcing + "furnished apartments." The street is too well known to require + advertisement, consequently the "furnished apartments" are seldom without + tenants. + </p> + <p> + The street is a cave of Adullam to which submerged married couples resort + when their own homes, happy or otherwise, are broken up. + </p> + <p> + We notice that it is many days since the doors and window-frames of the + different houses made acquaintance with the painter. We notice that all + doors stand open, for it is nobody's business to answer a knock, friendly + or otherwise. We look in the various doorways and see in each case the + same sort of staircase and the same unclean desolation. + </p> + <p> + Who would believe that Adullam Street is a veritable Tom Tiddler's Ground? + Would any one believe that a colony of the submerged could prove a source + of wealth? + </p> + <p> + Let us count the houses on both sides of the street. Forty-five houses! + Leave out the two "general" shops, the greengrocer's and the "off + licence"; leave out also the one where the agent and collector lives, that + leaves us forty-one houses of nine rooms let out as furnished apartments. + </p> + <p> + If let to married couples that means a population of seven hundred and + thirty-eight, if all the rooms are occupied, and supposing that no couple + occupies more than one room. As for the children—but we dare not + think of them—we realise the advantage of the open street of which + we freely grant them the freehold. But we make the acquaintance of a + tenant and ask some questions. We find that she has two children, that + they have but one furnished room, for which they pay seven shillings and + sixpence weekly in advance! Always in advance! + </p> + <p> + She further tells us that their room is one of the best and largest; it + faces the street, and is on the first floor. She says that some rooms are + let at six shillings, others at six shillings and sixpence, and some at + seven shillings. We ask her why she lives in Adullam Street, and she tells + us that her own furniture was obtained on the "hire system," and when it + was seized they came to Adullam Street, and they do not know how they are + to get out of it. + </p> + <p> + That sets us thinking and calculating; three hundred and sixty-nine rooms, + rent always payable in advance—from the submerged, too!—average + six shillings and sixpence per week per room, why, that is L120 per week, + or L6,240 annually from forty-one houses, if they are regularly occupied. + Truly furnished apartments specially provided for the submerged are extra + specially adapted to the purpose of keeping them submerged. + </p> + <p> + As no deputy disputes our entrance, we enter and proceed to gain some + knowledge of the tenants, and take some stock of their rooms and + furniture. + </p> + <p> + The rooms are simply but by no means sweetly furnished! Here is an + inventory and a mental picture of one room. A commodious bed with dirty + appointments that makes us shudder! A dirty table on which are some odds + and ends of unclean crockery, a couple of cheap Windsor chairs, a + forbidding-looking chest of drawers, a rusty frying-pan, a tin kettle, a + teapot and a common quart jug. He would be a bold man that bid ten + shillings for the lot, unless he bought them as a going concern. A cheap + and nasty paper covers the wall, excepting where pieces have been torn + away, and the broken walls are made of lath and plaster, to provide + splendid cover for innumerable insects which remain in undisputed + possession. + </p> + <p> + One floor much resembles another, but the basement and the top storey + rooms are the worst of all. We look through the window of a second floor + back room, and see the out premises, but one look is sufficient. + </p> + <p> + We want to know something of the tenants, so we enter into conversation + with them, and find them by no means reserved. + </p> + <p> + Room 1. Husband and wife about thirty-five years of age, no children; + husband has been ill for some months, during which the rent got behind. + When he was taken to the infirmary they lost their home altogether; she + did washing and charing for a time, but ultimately got into the "House." + </p> + <p> + When her husband got better, and was discharged from the infirmary, his + old mates collected ten shillings for him, he took the room in which they + now lived, and of course she joined him. + </p> + <p> + How did they live? Well, it was hardly living; her husband looked round + every day and managed to "pick up something," and she got a day or two + days' work every week—their rent was always paid in advance. What + happened when her husband did not "pick up something" she did not say, but + semi-starvation seemed the only alternative. + </p> + <p> + No. 2. Husband, wife and a girl of seven engaged in making coarse paper + flowers of lurid hue. They had been in that room for six months; they sold + the paper flowers in the streets, but being summer time they did not sell + many. At Christmas time people bought them for decorations; sometimes + people gave the girl coppers, but did not take the flowers from her. The + police watched them very closely, as they required a licence for selling, + and if they took the girl out in the wet or dark the police charged them. + </p> + <p> + It was very difficult to live at all, owing to police interference. The + girl did not go to school, but they had been warned that she must go; they + did not know what they should do when she could not help them. + </p> + <p> + Room 3. A strong man about thirty, his wife and two young children. The + remains of a meal upon the table, a jug of beer and a smell of tobacco. + The man looks at us, and a flash of recognition is exchanged. He had been + released from prison at 8.30 that morning after serving a sentence of nine + months for shop robbery. + </p> + <p> + We asked how much gratuity he had earned. Eight shillings, he told us. His + wife and children had met him at the prison gate; they had come straight + to that room, for which the wife had previously arranged; they had paid a + week in advance. "What was he going to do?" "He did not know!" He did not + appear to care, but he supposed he "must look round, he would get the rent + somehow." We felt that he spoke the truth, and that he would "get the rent + somehow" till the police again prevented him. + </p> + <p> + We know that prison will again welcome him, and that the workhouse gates + will open to receive his wife and children, the number of which will + increase during his next detention in prison. + </p> + <p> + Room 4. Two females under thirty. No signs of occupation; they are not + communicative, neither are they rude, so we learn nothing from them except + that they were not Londoners. + </p> + <p> + Room 5. A family group, father, mother and four children; they had come to + Adullam Street because they had been ejected from their own home. Their + goods and chattels had been put on the street pavement, whence the parish + had removed them to the dust destructor, probably the best thing to do + with them. + </p> + <p> + The family were all unhealthy and unclean. The parents did not seem to + have either strength, grit or intelligence to fit them for any useful + life. But they could creep forth and beg, the woman could stand in the + gutter with a little bit of mortality wrapped in her old shawl, for + tender-hearted passers-by to see its wizened face, and the father could + stand not far away from her with a few bootlaces or matches exposed, as if + for sale. They managed to live somehow. + </p> + <p> + Room 6. An elderly couple who had possessed no home of their own for years + past, but who know London well, for the furnished lodgings of the east, + west, north and south are familiar to them. + </p> + <p> + He sells groundsel, she sells water-cress, at least they tell us so, and + point to baskets as evidence. But we know that groundsel business of old. + We have seen him standing in a busy thoroughfare with his pennyworth of + groundsel, and we know that though he receives many pennies his stock + remains intact, and we know also that pennyworths of water-cress in the + dirty hands of an old woman serve only the same purpose. + </p> + <p> + Room 7. Here we find a younger but not more hopeful couple; she is fairly + well dressed, and he is rather flashy. They have both food and drink. We + know that when the shades of night fall she will be perambulating the + streets, and he like a beast of prey will be watching not far away. So we + might go through the whole of the colony. There is a strange assortment of + humanity in Adullam Street. Vice and misery, suffering and poverty, + idleness and dishonesty, feeble-mindedness and idiocy are all blended, but + no set-off in virtue and industry is to be found. + </p> + <p> + The strong rogue lives next to the weak and the unfortunate, the hardened + old sinner next door to some who are beginning to qualify for a like old + age. The place is coated with dirt and permeated with sickening odours. + And to Adullam Street come young couples who have decided to unite their + lives and fortunes without any marriage ceremony; for in Adullam Street + such unions abound. + </p> + <p> + Young fellows of nineteen earning as much as twelve shillings a week + couple with girls of less age earning ten shillings weekly. It looks so + easy to live on twenty-two shillings a week and no furniture to buy, and + no parson to pay. + </p> + <p> + So a cheap ring is slipped on, and hand in hand the doomed couple go to + Adullam Street, which receives them with open arms, and hugs them so long + as six shillings and sixpence weekly is forthcoming in advance. Their + progress is very rapid; when the first child arrives, the woman's earnings + cease, and Adullam Street knows them no more. + </p> + <p> + Ticket-of-leave men, ex-convicts, heroes of many convictions, come to + Adullam Street and bring their female counterparts with them. They + flourish for a time, and then the sudden but not unexpected disappearance + of the male leads to the disappearance of the female. She returns to her + former life; Adullam Street is but an incident in her life. + </p> + <p> + So there is a continual procession through Adullam Street; very little + good enters it, and it is certain that less good passes out. + </p> + <p> + Where do its temporary inhabitants go? To prisons, to workhouses, to + hospitals, to common lodging-houses, to shelters, to the Embankment and to + death. + </p> + <p> + Although those who seek sanctuary in Adullam Street are already + inhabitants of the underworld, a brief sojourn in it dooms them to lower + depths. I suppose there must be places of temporary residence for the sort + of people that inhabit it, for they must have shelter somewhere. But I + commend this kind of property to the searching eyes of the local + authorities and the police. + </p> + <p> + But furnished apartments can tell another tale when they are not situated + in Adullam Street. For sometimes a struggling widow, or wife with a sick + husband, or a young married couple seek to let furnished apartments as a + legitimate means of income. When they do so, let them beware of the + underworld folk who happen to be better clothed and more specious than + their fellows, or they will bitterly rue it. + </p> + <p> + Very little payment will they get. Couples apparently married and + apparently respectable, but who are neither, are common enough, who are + continually on the look-out for fresh places of abode, where they may + continue their depredation. + </p> + <p> + They are ready enough with a deposit, but that is all the money they mean + to part with, and that has probably been raised by robbing their last + landlady. They can give references if required, and show receipts, too, + from their last lodgings, for they carry rent-books made out by themselves + and fully paid up for the purpose. They are adepts at obtaining entrance, + and, once in, they remain till they have secured another place and marked + another prey. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile their poor victims suffer in kind and money, and are brought + nearer destitution. I have frequently known a week's rent paid with the + part proceeds of articles stolen from either the furnished apartments, or + some other part of the house just entered. + </p> + <p> + I could tell some sad stories of suffering and distress brought to + struggling and decent people by these pests, of whom a great number are + known to the police. + </p> + <p> + And so the merry game goes on, for while vampires are sucking the impure + blood of the wretched dwellers in Adullam Street lodgings, the dwellers in + Adullam Street in their turn prey on the community at large. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the honest and unfortunate poor can scarcely find cover, and + when they do, why, then their thin blood is drained, for they have to pay + exorbitantly. + </p> + <p> + It is apparently easy to transmute wretched humanity into gold. But who is + going to call order out of this horrid chaos? No one, I am thinking, for + no one seems to dare attempt in any thorough way to solve the question of + housing the very poor, and that question lies at the root of this matter. + </p> + <p> + Let any one attempt it, and a thousand formidable vested interests rise up + and confront him, against which he will dash himself in vain. As to + housing the inhabitants of the underworld at a reasonable rental, no one + seems to have entertained the idea. + </p> + <p> + Lease holders and sub-lease holders, landlords and ground landlords, + corporations and churches, philanthropists and clergymen have all got + vested interests in house property where wretchedness and dirt are + conspicuous. "But," said a notable clergyman in regard to some horrid + slum, "I cannot help it, I have only a life-interest in it," as if, + forsooth, he could have more; did he wish to carry his interests beyond + the grave? I would give life-interest in rotten house property short + shrift by burning the festering places. But such places are not burned, + though sometimes they are closed by the order of the local authorities. + But oftener still they are purchased by local authorities at great public + cost, or by philanthropic trusts. Then the human rabbits are driven from + their warrens to burrow elsewhere and so leave room for respectability. + </p> + <p> + Better-looking and brighter buildings are erected where suites of rooms + are to let at very high prices. Then a tax is placed upon children, and a + premium is offered to sterility. Glowing accounts appear in the Press, and + royalty goes to inspect the new gold mine! We rub our hands with + complacent satisfaction and say, "Ah! at last something is being done for + housing the very poor!" But what of the rabbits! have they ascended to the + seventh heaven of the new paradise? Not a bit; they cannot offer the + required credentials, or pay the exorbitant rent! not for them seven + flights of stone stairs night and morning; it is so much easier for + rabbits to burrow underground, or live in the open. So away they scuttle! + Some to dustheaps, some back to Adullam Street, some to nomadic life. But + most of them to other warrens, to share quarters with other rabbits till + those warrens in their turn are converted into "dwellings," when again + they must needs scuttle and burrow elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Can it be wondered at that these people are dirty and idle; and that many + of them ultimately prefer the settled conditions of prison or workhouse + life, or take to vagrancy? + </p> + <p> + I cannot find a royal specific for this evil; humanity will, under any + conditions, have its problems and difficulties. Vagrants have always + existed, and probably will continue to exist while the human race endures. + But we need not manufacture them! Human rookeries and rabbit warrens must + go; England, little England, cannot afford them, and ought not to tolerate + them. But before we dispossess the rooks and the rabbits, let us see to it + that, somewhere and somehow, cleaner nests and sweeter holes are provided + for them. The more I think upon this question the more I am convinced that + it is the great question of the day, and upon its solution the future of + our country depends. + </p> + <p> + See what is happening! Thousands of children born to this kind of humanity + become chargeable to the guardians or find entrance to the many children's + homes organised by philanthropy. One course is taken the bright and + healthy, the sound in body and mind, are emigrated; but the smitten, the + afflicted, the feeble and the worthless are kept at home to go through the + same life, to endure the same conditions as their parents, and in their + turn to produce a progeny that will burrow in warrens or scuttle out of + them even as their parents did before them. + </p> + <p> + But the feebler the life, the greater the progeny; this we cannot escape, + for Nature will take care of herself. We, may drive out the rabbits, we + may imprison and punish them, we may compel them to live in Adullam Street + or in lazar houses, we may harry them and drive them hither and thither, + we may give them doles of food on the Embankment or elsewhere. We may give + them chopping wood for a day, we may lodge them for a time in labour + homes; all this we may do, but we cannot uplift them by these methods. We + cannot exterminate them. But by ignoring them we certainly give them an + easy chance of multiplying to such a degree that they will constitute a + national danger. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE DISABLED + </h2> + <p> + In this chapter I want to speak of those who suffer from physical + disabilities, either from birth, the result of accident, or disease. If + this great army of homeless afflicted humanity were made to pass in + procession before us, it would, I venture to say, so touch our hearts that + we should not want the procession repeated. + </p> + <p> + Nothing gives us more pleasure than the sight of a number of people who, + suffering from some one or other physical deprivation, are being taught + some handicraft by which they will be able to earn a modest living. + </p> + <p> + Probably nothing causes us greater sadness than the sight of deformed and + crippled men and women who are utterly unable to render any useful service + to the community, and who consequently have to depend upon their wits for + a miserable living. It is a very remarkable thing that an accident which + deprives a man of a leg, of an arm, or of eyesight, not only deprives him + of his living, but also frequently produces a psychological change. And + unless some counterbalancing conditions serve to influence in an opposite + direction he may become dangerous. It was not without reason that our + older novelists made dwarfs and hunchbacks to be inhuman fiends. Neither + was it without reason that Dickens, our great student of human nature, + made of Quilp a twisted dwarf, and Stagg a blind man his most dangerous + characters. Some years ago I was well acquainted with a very decent man, a + printer; he had lived for years beyond reproach; he was both a good + workman, husband and father. But he lost his right arm, the result of an + accident at his work, and his character changed from that day. He became + morose, violent and cruel, and obsessed with altogether false ideas. He + could not reason as other men, and he became dangerous and explosive. Time + after time I have seen him committed to prison, until he became a hopeless + prison habitue. My experience has also shown me that physical deprivations + are equally likely to lead to sharpened wits and perverted moral sense as + to explosive and cruel violence. Probably this is natural, for nature + provides some compensation to those who suffer loss. + </p> + <p> + This is what makes the army of the physically handicapped so dangerous. + The disabled must needs live, and their perverted moral sense and + sharpened wits enable them to live at the expense of the public. + </p> + <p> + Very clever, indeed, many of these men are; they know how to provoke pity, + and they know how to tell a plausible tale. Many of them can get money + without even asking for it. They know full well the perils that environ + the man who begs. I am not ashamed to say that I have been frequently + duped by such fellows, and have learned by sad experience that my wits + cannot cope with theirs, and that my safety lies in hasty retreat when + they call upon me, for I have always found that conversation with them + leads to my own undoing. + </p> + <p> + Witness the following. One winter night my eldest son, who lives about a + mile away, went out to post a letter at midnight. After dropping his + letter in the pillar-box, he was surprised to hear a voice say, "Will you + kindly show me the way to Bridlington?" "Bridlington! why, it is more than + two hundred miles away." The request made my son gasp, for, as I have + said, it was winter and midnight. + </p> + <p> + The audacity of the request, however, arrested his attention, and that + doubtless was the end to be secured. So a conversation followed. The + inquirer was a Scotchman about thirty years of age; he wore dark glasses + and was decently clad; he had been discharged from St. Bartholomew's + Hospital. He was a seaman, but owing to a boiler explosion on board he had + been treated in the hospital. Now he must walk to Bridlington, where an + uncle lived who would give him a home. He produced a letter from his + uncle, but he had either lost or torn up the envelope. All this and more + he told my son with such candour and sincerity, that he was soon the + poorer by half-a-crown. Then, to improve the fellow's chance of getting to + Bridlington, he brought him to me. I was enjoying my beauty sleep when + that ill-fated knock aroused me. Donning a warm dressing-gown and + slippers, I went down to the front door, and very soon the three of us + were shivering round the remains of a fire in my dining-room. + </p> + <p> + Very lucidly and modestly Angus repeated the above story, not once did he + falter or trip. He showed me the letter from his uncle, he pointed out the + condition of his eyes and the scars on his face; with some demur he + accepted my half-crown, saying that he did not ask for anything, and that + all he wanted was to get to Bridlington. + </p> + <p> + In my pyjamas and dressing-gown I explored the larder and provided him + with food, after which my son escorted him to the last tramcar, saw him + safely on his way to the Seamen's Institute with a note to the manager + guaranteeing the expense of his bed and board for a few days. + </p> + <p> + Next day my son visited the Seamen's Institute, but alas! Angus was not + there, he had not been there. Nevertheless the manager knew something of + him, for three separate gentlemen had sent Angus to the institute. One had + found him in the wilds of Finchley looking for Bridlington! Another had + found him pursuing the same quest at Highgate, while still another had + come on him, with his dark glasses, bundle and stick, looking for + Bridlington on the road to Southgate. + </p> + <p> + I do not know whether the poor fellow ever arrived at Bridlington, but + this I do know, that he has found his way northwards, and that he is now + groping and inquiring for Dawlish in Devonshire. + </p> + <p> + The Manchester Guardian tells us that one silent evening hour poor Angus + was discovered in several different places in the vicinity of Manchester. + The same paper of the next day's date stated that eleven out of the twelve + who met poor Angus were so overcome by the poignancy of his narrative and + the stupendous character of his task, that they promptly gave him + financial assistance. I am strongly of the opinion that the twelfth man + was entirely without money at the time he met Angus, or I feel that he + would have proved no exception to the rule. In my heart I was glad to find + that the hard-headed citizens of Manchester are just as kind-hearted and + likely to be imposed upon as we are in London. + </p> + <p> + But Angus has been playing his fame for six years at least, for one + gentleman who gave him explicit directions more than five years ago writes + to the Manchester Guardian saying, "I am afraid he took a wrong turning." + </p> + <p> + It is evident that Angus has done fairly well at his business, and yet it + would appear that he never asked for a single penny since he first started + on his endless search. He always accepts money reluctantly, and I much + question whether the police have right to arrest him, or the gulled public + any ground to complain. + </p> + <p> + But if Angus should ever get to his kind uncle at Bridlington, and that + respected gentleman should return the five shillings we gave to help his + unfortunate nephew, I will promise to be more careful in pressing money + upon strangers in future. But whether the money comes to hand or not I + have made myself a promise, and it is this: never more to get out of a + warm bed on a cold night to open the house and entertain a half-blind man + that speaks with a rich Scotch accent. + </p> + <p> + But how clever it all is! Why, its very audacity ensures its success, and + Angus, for aught I know, has many fellow-craftsmen. Certainly if he is + alone he must be almost ubiquitous. But Angus and such-like are not to be + wondered at, for Nature herself endows all living things with the powers + to adapt themselves to circumstances and obtain the means of defence and + offence from their conditions. So Nature deals with the human family, in + whom the struggle for existence develops varied, powerful and maybe + dangerous characteristics. + </p> + <p> + At present it is nobody's business to see that the maimed, the halt, the + blind are taught and trained to be of some service, and made able in some + way to earn a subsistence. Philanthropy, it is true, does something, and + also those blessed institutions, the schools for the blind, and training + homes for the crippled. I never see such institutions without experiencing + great gladness, for I know how much evil they avert. But the great body of + the physically afflicted are without the walls and scope of these + institutions, consequently tens of thousands of men and women, because of + their afflictions, are enabled to prey upon the community with a cunning + that other people cannot emulate. + </p> + <p> + We hear daily of accidents. We learn of men and women losing arms, legs + and hands; our hearts are touched for a brief moment, then we remember the + particulars no more. The ultimate consequences are unseen, but they are + not to be avoided, for every cripple left uncared for may become a + criminal of dangerous type. + </p> + <p> + Their elemental needs and passions still exist, notwithstanding their + physical deprivations. They claim the right to eat and drink, they claim + the right of perpetuating their kind. + </p> + <p> + Some day perhaps the community will realise what the exercise of the + latter right means. Some day, and Heaven send that day soon, we shall be + horrified at the thought that a vast number of unfortunates exist among us + who, demanding our pity and our care, are going down to the grave without + that care to which their physical disabilities entitle them. + </p> + <p> + As we look at these unfortunates, feelings of pity, disgust or amusement + may be aroused, but one moment's reflection would convince us that these + afflicted homeless creatures manage to exist and extort an expensive + living from the community. + </p> + <p> + I have said that every disabled man is a potential criminal, and that + unless he receives some compensation giving him the means of earning + honestly his living, he is certain to be a danger or a parasite. This is + but natural, for in the first place his physical nature has received a + shock, has sustained an outrage, Nature strikes back, and some one has to + suffer. The loss of a limb means severed muscles, bones and nerves. Nature + never forgets that they ought to be there, but as they are not there she + does without them; but none the less she feels for them instinctively, and + becomes disappointed and bitter because she is refused the use of them. + </p> + <p> + Add to this the anxiety, the sufferings the amputated man feels when he is + also deprived of his means of livelihood, as well as his limb, and from + comfort comes down to penury. Perhaps he has been able hitherto to keep + his wife and children with a fair amount of comfort; now he is helpless + and has to depend upon them. + </p> + <p> + He may be of proud spirit, but he has to endure mortification by seeing + his wife labour and slave for him. He becomes moody, then passionate, a + little drink maddens him, then comes the danger. He does something, then + the police are required, and prison awaits him. There he thinks and broods + over his wrong, with bitterness and revengeful spirit. Perhaps his wife + has been compelled to give evidence against him; he remembers that, he + scores it up, and henceforth there is no peace for either of them! + </p> + <p> + Frequent convictions follow, ultimately the wife has to claim the + protection of the law, and gets a separation order on account of his + cruelty. Henceforward he is an outcast, his children and friends cast him + off, for they are afraid of him. But he lives on, and many have to suffer + because he has lost a limb. + </p> + <p> + We read a great deal about the development of character through suffering, + and well I know the purifying effects suffering has upon our race; but it + is well sometimes to look at the reverse side, and consider what evil + follows in the wake of suffering. + </p> + <p> + Blind men, the deaf and the dumb and the physically disabled need our + pitiful consideration. Some of the sweetest, cleverest, bravest men I know + suffer from great physical disabilities, but they have pleasures and + compensations, they live useful lives, their compensations have produced + light and sweetness, they are not useless in a busy world, they are not + mere cumberers of the ground. They were trained for usefulness whilst they + were young. + </p> + <p> + But a far different case is presented with the disabled among the very + poor. What chance in life is there for a youth of twenty who loses an arm + or leg? He has no friends whose loving care and whose financial means can + soften his affliction and keep him in comfort while training for service. + Who in this rich, industrial England wants such service as he can render? + Very few! and those who do make use of him naturally feel that his service + is not worth much. + </p> + <p> + Numbers of my acquaintances like Angus half lose their sight! Who requires + their service? No one! But these men live on, and they mean to live on, + and Nature furnishes them with the means by giving them extra cunning. + Many of these fellows, poor disabled fellows, inhabit the dark places of + the underworld. Let us call them out of their dark places and number them, + classify them, note their disabilities! + </p> + <p> + Truly they came down to the underworld through great afflictions. They + form the disabled army of civilisation's industrial world who have been + wounded and crippled in the battle. All sorts of accidents have happened + to them: explosions have blinded them, steam has scalded them, buffers + have crushed them, coal has buried them, trains have run over them, + circular saws have torn them asunder. They are bent and they are twisted, + they are terrible to look at; as we gaze at them we are fascinated. March! + now see them move! Did you ever see anything like this march of disabled + men from the gloom of the underworld? + </p> + <p> + How they shuffle and drag along; what strange, twisted and jerky movements + they have; what sufferings they must endure, and what pain they must have + had. All these thoughts come to us as we look at the march of the disabled + as they twist and writhe past us. + </p> + <p> + The procession is endless, for it is continually augmented by men and + women from the upperworld, who as conscripts are sent to the army below, + because they have sustained injuries in the service of the world above. + </p> + <p> + So they pass! But the upperworld has not done with them; it does not get + rid of its natural obligations so easily. It suffers with them, and pays + dearly for its neglect of them. The disabled live on, they will not die to + please us, and they extract a pretty expensive living from the world + above. The worst of it is that these unfortunates prey also upon those who + have least to spare, the respectable poor just above the line. They do not + always sit at the gates of the rich asking for crumbs, for the eloquence + of their afflictions and the pity of their woes strike home to the hearts + and pockets of the industrious poor who have so little to spare. But it is + always much easier to rob the poor! + </p> + <p> + It is our boast that Englishmen love justice, and it is a true boast! But + when we read of accidents and of surgical operations, does our imagination + lead us to ask: What about the future of the sufferers? Very rarely, I + expect. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, we have got so used to this sight of maimed manhood that it + causes us but little anxious thought, though it may cause some feelings of + revulsion. + </p> + <p> + But there is the Employers' Liability Act! Yes, I admit it, and a blessed + Act it is. But the financial consideration given for a lost limb or a + ruined body is not a fortune; it soon evaporates, then heigho! for the + underworld, for bitterness and craft. + </p> + <p> + But all accidents do not come within the scope of that Act, not by any + means. If a married woman about to become a mother falls or rolls down the + stairs, when climbing to her home in the seventh heaven of Block-land, if + she sustains long injuries, who compensates her? If the child is born a + monstrosity, though not an idiot, who compensates for that? If the poor + must be located near the sky, how is it that "lifts" cannot be provided + for them? Who can tell the amount of maimed child, middle-aged and elderly + life that has resulted from the greasy stairs and dark landings of London + dwellings. Industrial life, commercial life and social life take a rare + toll of flesh and blood from the poor. For this civilisation makes no + provision excepting temporary sustentation in hospitals, workhouses or + prisons. Even our prison commissioners tell us that "our prisons are + largely filled with the very poor, the ignorant, the feeble, the incapable + and the incapacitated." + </p> + <p> + It would appear that if we can make no other provision for the disabled, + we can make them fast in prison for a time. But that time soon passes, and + their poor life is again resumed. But the disabled are not the only + suffering unfortunates in the netherworld who, needing our pity, receive + the tender mercies of prison. For there epileptics abide or roam in all + the horror of their lives "oft-times in water and oft-times in the fire," + a burden to themselves, a danger to others. Shut out from industrial life + and shut out from social life. Refused lodgings here and refused lodgings + there. Sometimes anticipating fits, sometimes recovering from fits; + sometimes in a semi-conscious state, sometimes in a state of madness. + Never knowing what may happen to them, never knowing what they may do to + others. Always suffering, always hopeless! Treated as criminals till their + deeds are fatal, then certified to be "criminal lunatics." Such is the + life of the underworld epileptic. Life, did I call it?—let me + withdraw that word; it is the awful, protracted agony of a living death, + in which sanity struggles with madness, rending and wounding a poor human + frame. Happy are they when they die young! but even epileptics live on and + on; but while they live we consign them to the underworld, where their + pitiful cry of "Woe! woe!" resounds. + </p> + <p> + Do not say this is an exaggeration, for it is less than truth, not beyond + it. Poe himself, with all his imagination and power, could not do full + justice to this matter. + </p> + <p> + Mendicity societies in their report tell of cunning rascals who impose on + the public by simulating "fits"; they tell of the "king of fits," the + "soap fits king," and others. They point with some satisfaction to the + convictions of these clever rogues, and claim some credit in detecting + them. + </p> + <p> + Their statements are true! But why are they true? Because real epileptics + are so common in the underworld, and their sufferings so palpable and + striking, that parasites, even though afflicted themselves, nay, because + of their own disabilities, can and do simulate the weird sufferings of + epileptics. Will mendicity societies, when they tell us about, enumerate + for us, and convict for us the hoary impostors, also tell us about and + enumerate for us the stricken men and women who are not impostors, and + whose fits are unfortunately genuine? + </p> + <p> + If some society will do this, they will do a great public service; but at + present no one does it, so this world of suffering, mystery and danger + remains unexplored. + </p> + <p> + I do not wonder that the ancients thought that epileptics suffered from + demoniacal possessions; perhaps they do, perhaps we believe so still. At + any rate we deal with them in pretty much the same way as in days of old. + The ancients bound them with chains; we are not greatly different—we + put them in prison. The ancients did allow their epileptics to live in the + tombs, but we allow them no place but prison, unless their friends have + money! + </p> + <p> + But let me end the subject by stating that the non-provision for + epileptics is a national disgrace and a national danger. That + incarceration of epileptics in prison and their conviction as criminals is + unjust and cruel. That it is utterly impossible for philanthropy to + restrain, detain and care for epileptics. That the State itself must see + to the matter! + </p> + <p> + But just another word: epileptics marry! Imagine if you can the life of a + woman married to an epileptic. + </p> + <p> + Epileptics have children of a sort! Can you imagine what they are likely + to be? You cannot! Well, then, I will tell you. Irresponsible beings, with + abnormal passions, but with little sense of truth and honour, with no + desire for continuous labour, but possessed of great cunning. The girls + probably immoral, the boys feckless and drunken. + </p> + <p> + We have to pay for our neglect; we have no pity upon epileptics. He and + his children have no pity for us! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. WOMEN IN THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + The women of the underworld may be divided into three great classes. Those + who by reason of their habits or mental peculiarities prefer to live + homeless lives. Secondly, those whom misfortune has deprived of settled + home life. Thirdly, those who, having settled homes, live at starvation + point. + </p> + <p> + In London there is a great number of each class. With class one I shall + deal briefly, for they do not form a pleasant theme. The best place to + study these wild homeless women is Holloway Prison, for here you will find + them by the hundreds any day you please. In Holloway Prison during one + year 933 women who had been in that gaol more than ten times were again + received into it. + </p> + <p> + I am privileged sometimes to address them. As I write I see them sitting + before me. After one of my addresses I was speaking to one of the + wardresses about their repeated convictions, when the wardress said— + </p> + <p> + "Oh, sir, we are glad to see them come back again, for we know that they + are far better off with us than they are at liberty. They go out clean and + tidy with very much better health than they came in. It seems cruel to let + them out, to live again in dirt and misery, and though we have an + unpleasant duty to perform in cleansing them when they return, we feel + some comfort in the thought that for a short time they will be cared for. + Why, sir, it is prison and prison alone that keeps them alive." + </p> + <p> + Now this army of women is a dolorous army in all truth, for their faces, + their figures are alike strange and repulsive, and many of them seem to be + clothed with the cerements of moral and spiritual death. They are + frequently charged with drunkenness, stealing, begging, or sleeping out. + </p> + <p> + Their names appear on the "Black List," for the law says they are + "habitual inebriates," yet drink has little or nothing to do with their + actual condition. + </p> + <p> + Let any one look them in the face as I have looked them in the face, study + their photographs as I have studied them, and I venture to affirm that + they will say with me, "These women are not responsible beings." For years + I have been drumming this fact into the ears of the public, and at length + the authorities acknowledged it, for in 1907 the Home Office Inspector + issued a report on inebriate reformatories, and gave the following account + of those who had been in such institutions: 2,277 had been treated in + reformatories; of these he says 51 were insane and sent to lunatic + asylums, 315 others were pronounced defectives or imbeciles. Altogether he + tells us that 62 out of every hundred were irresponsible women and unfit + for social and industrial life. + </p> + <p> + My many years' experience of London's underworld confirms the testimony of + the Home Office, for I am persuaded that a very large proportion of + homeless women on our streets are homeless because they are quite unfitted + for, and have no desire for decent social life. + </p> + <p> + Should I be asked about the birth and parentage of these women, I reply + that they come from all classes. Born of tramps and of decent citizens, + born in the slums and sometimes in villas, almost every rank and station + contributes its quota to this class of wild, hopeless women. + </p> + <p> + But I pass on to the second class, those who by misfortune have become + submerged. This, too, is a large class, and a class more worthy of + sympathy and consideration than the others, for amongst them, in spite of + misfortune and poverty, there is a great deal of womanliness and + self-respect. Misfortune, ill-health, sorrow, loss of money, position or + friends, circumstances over which they have had but little or no control + have condemned them to live in the underworld. Such women present a + pitiful sight and a difficult problem. They cling to the relics of their + respectability with a passionate devotion, and they wait, hope, starve and + despair. + </p> + <p> + Often misfortune has come upon them when the days of youth were passed, + and they found themselves in middle age faced with the grim necessity of + earning a living. I have seen many of them struggle with difficulty, and + exhibit rare courage and patience; I have watched them grow older and + feebler. Sometimes I have provided glasses that their old eyes might be + strengthened for a little needlework, but I have always known that it was + only helping to defer the evil day, when they would no longer be able to + pay the rent for a little room in a very poor neighbourhood. My mind is + charged with the memory of women who have passed through this experience, + who from comfortable homes have descended to the underworld to wander with + tired feet, weary bodies and hopeless hearts till they lie down somewhere + and their wanderings cease for ever. + </p> + <p> + But before we consider these women, let us take a peep at the lower + depths. Come, then! Now we are in a charnel house, for we are down among + the drunken women, the dissolute women that stew and writhe in the + underworld, for whom there is no balm in Gilead and no physician. Now we + realise what moral death means. + </p> + <p> + Like the horde of Comus they lie prone, and wallow in their impurity. Hot + as the atmosphere is, feverish though their defiled bodies be, they call + for no friendly hand to give them water to cool their parched throats. The + very suggestion of water makes them sick and faint. + </p> + <p> + But a great cry smites us: "Give us drink! and we will forget our misery; + give us drink, and we will sing and dance before you! give us drink, and + you may have us body and soul! Drink! drink!" A passionate, yearning, + importunate cry everlastingly comes from them for drink. + </p> + <p> + Now with Dante we are walking in Hell; see, there is a form, half human + and half animal, creeping towards us with lewd look and suggestion. Yonder + is an old hag fearful to look upon. Here a group of cast-off wives, whom + the law has allowed outraged husbands to consign to this perdition; but + who, when sober enough, come back to the upperworld and drag others down + to share their fate. + </p> + <p> + Does any one want to know what becomes of the wives who, having developed + a love of drink, have been separated from their husbands, and cast + homeless into the streets? Here in this circle of Hell you may find them, + consigned to a moral death from which there is no resurrection. + </p> + <p> + And the idle, the vicious, the lustful and the criminal are here too. But + we leave them, and get back to the everlasting workers, the sober and + virtuous women of whom I have told. What a contrast is here presented! + Drunkenness, vice, bestiality and crime! Virtue, industry, honesty and + self-respect condemned to live together! But let us look and listen; we + hear a voice speaking to us— + </p> + <p> + "Dear Mr. Holmes, I am deeply interested in your work, and feel one with + you in mind and heart in the different troubles of human life, and of + their causes and consequences. I feel that if only my health was better, + and I was placed in some other sphere of life, that I would do something + to help on your good work. But, alas! I shall never be strong again; the + hard grinding for a miserable pittance gives me no chance to get + nourishing food and recover my strength. Some people say to me, 'Why don't + you go into the workhouse or the infirmary?' This I bear in silence, but + it is simply killing me in a slow way. Oh! that it should take so long to + kill some of us. It makes me sad to think that so many lives are wrecked + in this way, that so many are driven to wrong, that so many others should + drift away into lives of hopelessness. I have been stripped of all, and I + am waiting for the worst." + </p> + <p> + Can any language beat that for lucidity and pathos? My readers will, I am + sure, recognise that those are the words of an educated woman. Yes, her + education was begun in England and finished on the Continent. Were I to + mention the name of the writer's mother, hearts would leap, for that name + lives in story and song. + </p> + <p> + But her parents died and left no competence, her health failed, and + teaching became impossible. All she now requires is an out-patient's + ticket for a chest hospital. + </p> + <p> + She is a "trouser finisher," and earns one penny per hour; sometimes she + lies on her bed while at work. But by and by she will not be able to earn + her penny per hour; then there will be "homelessness," but not the + workhouse for her. + </p> + <p> + But the voice speaks again: "Dear Mr. Holmes, please excuse me not + thanking you sooner for offering me a hospital letter. I shall, indeed, be + very grateful for one when able to get about, for I shall need something + to set me up a bit. + </p> + <p> + "At present I am very sadly indeed; my foot seems very much better, yet + not right, the sister thinks. To make matters worse, I have a very bad + gathered finger, and this week I have not been able to do a stitch of + work; indeed, it is very little that I have been able to do this last ten + weeks. Oh, the cruel oppression of taking advantage and putting extra work + for less pay, because I cannot get out to fetch it myself! + </p> + <p> + "The most I get is a penny per hour; it is generally less. Sister Grace + was so vexed by the rude message he sent to-day while she was here, + because I could not do the work, that she sent a letter to him telling him + the fact of my suffering. She thinks I am in a very bad state through + insufficient food, and, Mr. Holmes, it is true! for no one but God and + myself really know how I have existed. I rarely know what it is to get a + proper meal, for often I do not expend a sixpence on food in a week when I + pay my way, and thank God I have been able to do this up to the present + somehow or other; but all my treasures are gone, and I look round and + wonder what next! + </p> + <p> + "My eyes rest on my dear old violin, which is a memory of the past, + although long silent. It has been a great grief to me the parting with one + thing after another, but I go on hoping for better days that I may regain + them; alas! many are now beyond recall. + </p> + <p> + "The parish doctor has been suggested again, but I feel I would rather die + than submit, after all this long struggle and holding out, especially, as + I have been able to keep things a little near the mark; when they get + beyond me, rather than debt I must give in! + </p> + <p> + "Still, I hope for better days, and trust things will brighten for me and + others, for God knows there are many silent sufferers ebbing their lives + away, plodding and struggling with life's battle. My heart bleeds for + them, yet I am powerless to help them or myself." + </p> + <p> + Time and space do not avail, or I could tell story after story of such + lives, for in the underworld they are numerous enough. Who can wonder that + some of them "are made bitter by misfortune"? Who can wonder that others + "are driven to wrong"? Who can be surprised that "many drift into lives of + hopeless uselessness"? Surely our friend knew what she was talking about, + in the underworld though she be. She sees that there are deeps below the + depths, that she herself is in. Though ill, starving and hopeless about + her own future, she is troubled for others, for she adds, "since I have + known the horror of this life, my heart goes out to others that are + enduring it." + </p> + <p> + Now this class of woman is not much in evidence till the final catastrophe + comes, when the doors of a one-roomed home are closed against them. Even + then they do not obtrude themselves on our observation, for they hide + themselves away till the river or canal gives up its dead. + </p> + <p> + But it is not every woman that maintains such a high tone, for once in the + underworld the difficulty of personal cleanliness confronts them, and dirt + kills self-respect. Poverty makes them acquainted with both physical and + moral dirt, and the effect of one night in a shelter or lodging-house is + often sufficient to destroy self-respect and personal cleanliness for + life. + </p> + <p> + I am quite sure that I am voicing the opinion of all who have knowledge of + the underworld in which such women are compelled to live, when I say that + the great want in London and in all our large towns is suitable and + well-managed lodging-houses under municipal control and inspection, where + absolute cleanliness and decency can be assured. Lodging-houses to which + women in their hour of sore need may turn with the certainty that their + self-respect will not be destroyed. But under the present conditions + decent women have no chance of retaining their decency or recovering their + standing in social life. + </p> + <p> + Listen again! a widowed tooth-brush maker speaks to us: "Dear Mr. Holmes, + I feel that I must thank you for still allowing me a pension, and I do + thank you so much in increasing it. When I received it my heart was so + full of joy that I could not speak. My little boys are growing, and they + require more than when my husband died six years ago. I am sure it has + been a great struggle, but I have found such a great help in you, I do not + know how to thank you for all that you have done for me and many poor + workers. + </p> + <p> + "I do hope that God will still give you health and strength to carry on + the good work which you are doing for us. When I last spoke to you I + thought my little boys were much better, but I am sorry to say that when I + took them to Great Ormond Street Hospital, they said they were both + suffering from heart disease, and I was to keep them from school for a + time; and they also suffer from rheumatics. They are to get out all they + can. I have been taking them to the hospital for over two years, and + sometimes I feel downhearted, as I had hoped they would have improved + before this. + </p> + <p> + "The eldest boy does not have fits now, and this I am thankful for. But I + feel that I am wasting a lot of your time reading this letter, so I must + thank you very much for all your great goodness to me." + </p> + <p> + But one of the boys is now dead, to the other "fits" have returned, and + the widow still sits, sits and sits at her tooth-brushes in poverty and + hunger. + </p> + <p> + Listen to an old maid's story; she is a shoe machinist: "Yes, sir, I have + kept them for six years, and I hope to keep them till they can keep + themselves, and then perhaps they will help to keep me." + </p> + <p> + The speaker was a worn and feeble woman of fifty-five years, at least that + was the age she gave me, and most certainly she did not look less. We were + talking about her two boys, her nephews, whose respective ages were eleven + and thirteen. + </p> + <p> + "Both their parents died six years ago; their father was my only brother, + and their mother had neither brothers nor sisters! Of course I took them; + what else could I do? What! Send them to the workhouse? Not while I can + work for them. Ah, sir! you were only joking!" In this she was partly + right, for I had merely offered the suggestion in order to draw her out. + </p> + <p> + "So after the double funeral they came to live with you?" "Yes." "Did + their parents leave any money?" "Money, no! How can poor people leave any + money? their club money paid for the funeral and the doctor's bill." "So + they owed nothing?" "Not a penny; if they had, I should have paid it + somehow." + </p> + <p> + And doubtless she would, though how, it passes my wit to conceive. But + there, it would have meant only a few more hours' work daily for the brave + old spinster, but not for the boys, for they would have been fed while she + fasted, they would have slept while she worked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," she continued, "I am a boot machinist, and it is pretty hard work; + we had a tough time when I had to pay two shillings weekly for that + machine, but we managed, and now you see it is paid for, it is my own; but + really, times are harder for us. The boys are growing and want more food + and clothing; they go to school, and must have boots; it's the boots that + floor me, they cost a lot of money." + </p> + <p> + I called the boys to me and examined their boots; their old aunt looked as + if she was going to prevent me, but presently she said, "I had no work + last week, or I should have got him a pair." "Him" was the younger boy, + whose boots, or the remains of them, presented a deplorable appearance; + and, truth to tell, the elder boy's were not much better. So I said to the + brave old soul, "Look here, I will give these boys a good new pair of + boots each on one condition!" "What is that." "That you allow me to buy + you a pair." Again there was a look of resentment, but I continued, "I am + quite sure that you require boots as badly as your boys, and I cannot + think of them having nice boots and you going without, so I want you to + all start equal; kindly put out your foot and let me look." In a + shamefaced sort of a way she put her left foot forward; a strange, + misshapen, dilapidated apology of a boot covered the left foot. "Now the + right," I said. "Never mind looking at the other, it does not matter, does + it?" she said. "Yes, it does," so the right foot was presented; one glance + was enough! "That will do; come along for three pairs of boots." + </p> + <p> + They returned home, the boys rejoicing in their new boots, and their + feeble old aunt tolerating hers for the sake of her boys. Dear, brave, + self-denying, indomitable old maid. She had visited the fatherless in + their afflictions, she had toiled unceasingly for six long years, she had + taken willingly upon her weak shoulders a heavy burden; a burden that, + alas! many strong men are only too willing to cast upon others. She had + well earned her pair of boots, and sincerely do I hope that when her poor + feet get accustomed to their circumscribed area, and the pressure of + well-made boots has become comforting, that she will derive pleasure from + them, even though they represent "the first charity that I have ever + received." + </p> + <p> + But is it not wonderful, this marvellous self-denial of the very poor! + Other spheres of life doubtless produce many noble lives and heroic + characters, but was ever a braver deed done than this feeble and weary old + maid did? + </p> + <p> + And it was all so natural, so commonplace, so very matter-of-fact, for + when I spoke warmly of her deed she said very simply, "Well, what else + could I do!" + </p> + <p> + And in the underworld, amidst the dirt and squalor, the poverty, the high + rents, and the poor, poor earnings of poor, poor women, there are plenty + like her. + </p> + <p> + God grant that when the lads can work they will lighten her burdens and + cheer her heart by working for her who had worked so hard for them. + </p> + <p> + Listen also to the story of the blouse-makers disclosed to the upper world + by the Press. + </p> + <p> + "A pathetic story of poverty was told to the Hackney coroner, who held an + inquiry into the death of Emily Langes, 59, a blouse-maker of Graham Road, + Dalston. Death was due to starvation. + </p> + <p> + "Annie Marie, an aged sister, said they had both been in great poverty for + a very long time. They had worked at blouse-making as long as they could, + but that work had fallen off so much that really all they had got to live + on was by selling off their home. + </p> + <p> + "They had not enough to live on, and had to pay four shillings and + sixpence rent. + </p> + <p> + "The coroner: 'Selling your home will soon come to an end. You had best + apply in the proper direction for help; the parish must bury her. Don't go + on ruining yourself by selling off things.' + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Ingham, relieving officer for the No. 7 ward at Hackney, said that he + knew the old couple. He remembered giving relief to both sisters about two + months ago, but had had no application since. He offered the 'House' to + the living sister. + </p> + <p> + "A juror: 'Are questions put which might upset a proud respectable old + couple when they ask for relief?' + </p> + <p> + "Witness: 'Of course we have to inquire into their means pretty closely.' + </p> + <p> + "The coroner: 'It seems pretty clear that the old couple were too proud to + ask for help.' + </p> + <p> + "The jury returned a verdict that Emily Langes died from exhaustion caused + by want of food." + </p> + <p> + But listen again! as we stand in the land of crushed womanhood and + starving childhood. We hear a gentle voice, "Mother, it is nearly one + o'clock, the men have gone by from the public-house; you go to bed, dear, + and I will finish the work." A feeble woman, with every nerve broken, + rises from her machine, shakes her dress and lies down on her bed, but her + daughter sits on and on. + </p> + <p> + Oh the sighs and groans and accents of sorrow that come upon our listening + ears! Oh the weariness, the utter weariness of this land below the line! + </p> + <p> + Midnight! and thousands of women are working! One o'clock, and thousands + are still at it! Two o'clock, the widows are still at work! Thank God the + children are asleep. Three o'clock a.m., the machines cease to rattle, and + in the land of crushed womanhood there is silence if not peace. But who is + to pay? Shall we ultimately evolve a people that require no sleep, that + cannot sleep if they would? Is crushed womanhood to produce human + automatic machines? Or is civilisation generally to pay the penalty for + all this grinding of human flesh and blood? Let me tell the story of an + old machinist! I have told part of it before, but the sequel must be told. + I had made the acquaintance and friendship of three old women in Bethnal + Green who lived together, and collaborated in their work. They made + trousers for export trade; one machined, one finished, and one pressed, + brave old women all! They all worked in the machinist's room, for this + saved gas and coal, and prevented loss of time. At night they separated, + each going to her own room. The machinist was a widow, and her machine had + been bought out of her husband's club and insurance money when he died + twenty-one years before. I had often seen it, heard its rattle, and + witnessed its whims. + </p> + <p> + She once told me that it required a new shuttle, and I offered to pay for + one; but she said, "I cannot part with it; it will last my time, for I + want a new shuttle too!" + </p> + <p> + Six months after she was found dead in her bed by her partners when they + came to resume work. + </p> + <p> + Her words had come true! The old machine stood silent under the little + window; its old shuttle no longer whirred and rattled with uncertain + movements. It was motionless and cold. On a little bed the poor old brave + woman lay cold and motionless too! for the shuttle of her life had + stopped, never to move again. + </p> + <p> + The heroic partnership of the old women was broken, never in this world to + be resumed, and so two old hearts sorrowed and two troubled minds wondered + how they would be able to live without her. + </p> + <p> + I knew her well; it was my privilege to give her some happiness and some + change from grime and gloom, to take her away sometimes from the wayward + shuttle and rattling machine. I knew that she would have selected such a + death could she have chosen, for she dreaded the parish. I think, too, + that she would have wished for her old machine to be buried with her, and + for its silent shuttle to be beside her in her coffin. To her it was a + companion, and for it her husband died. Twenty-one years the machine and + herself had lived with each other and for each other. Sharing with each + other's toil, if not each other's hopes and fears! Working! working! + unceasingly through life—in death and rest they were not divided. + </p> + <p> + It was a blessed thing that her machine partner required no food, or life + would have been even more serious than it was. But it had its whims and + its moods, sometimes it resented everlasting work at three-half-pence per + hour for the pair of them, and it "jibbed." But a little oil and a + soothing word, and, it must be feared, sometimes with a threat, and the + old thing went again. + </p> + <p> + Surely it will be sacrilege for any one else to sit upon that old chair + and try to renew the life and motion of the old machine! + </p> + <p> + It is strange that this oppression of women which is the cause of my + greatest sorrow should also be the cause of my keenest joy. But it is so! + And why? Because I number two thousand of these underworld women slaves + among my personal friends, and I am proud of it! The letters I have given + are a few out of hundreds that I have received. I know these women as few + know them. I know their sufferings and their virtues, their great content + and their little requirements. I know that they have the same capabilities + for happiness as other people, and I know that they get precious little + chance of exercising those capabilities. Strange again, I get no begging + letters from them, though I do from others who are better placed. I + declare it to be wonderful! This endurance and patience of London's + miserably paid women. I tell you that I am the happiest man alive! Why? + Because during the present year a thousand of my poor friends from the + underworld came up for a time and had a fortnight, a whole fortnight's + rest each with food and comfort in a beautiful rest home by the sea. For + kind friends have enabled me to build one for them and for them alone! + </p> + <p> + And I was there sometimes to see, and it was good for me. So Mrs. Holmes + and myself make frequent visits to the rest home, and every time we visit + it we become more and more convinced that not only is it a "Palace + Beautiful," but that it is also a joy to the slave women who have the good + fortune to spend a holiday (all too short) in it. + </p> + <p> + Gloom cannot enter "Singholm" or, if it does enter, it promptly and + absolutely disappears. Ill-temper cannot live there, the very flowers + smile it away. The atmosphere itself acts like "laughing gas." So the + house fairly rings with merry laughter from elderly staid women equally as + from the younger ones, whose contact with serious and saddening life has + not been so paralysing to joyous emotions. + </p> + <p> + It did us good to hear such jolly laughter from throats and organs that, + but for Singholm, must have rusted and decayed. + </p> + <p> + One of our trustees was with us, it being his first visit to the home. I + know that he was surprised at the size, the beauty, the comfort and + refinement of the whole place. The garden filled him with delight, the + skill of the architect in planning the building, together with the style, + gave him increased pleasure. + </p> + <p> + The great drawing-room and the equally large dining-room rather astonished + him. The little bedrooms he declared perfect. But what astonished him most + of all was the unaffected happiness of the women; for this I do not think + he was prepared. Well, as I have said, gloom cannot live in Singholm, and + this I have found out by personal experience, for if I am quite cross and + grumpy in London, I cannot resist the exhilaration that prevails at + Singholm among London's underworld women. + </p> + <p> + I think I may say that our trustee was surprised at something else! But + then he is a bachelor, and so of course does not understand the infinite + resources of femininity. + </p> + <p> + "How nice they look," he said. "How well they dress"; and, once again, + "How clean and tidy they are; how well their colours blend!" + </p> + <p> + Thank God for this! we hold no truce with dirt at Singholm; we bid + dowdyism begone! avaunt! I will tell you a secret! Singholm demands + respect for itself and self-respect for its inmates. + </p> + <p> + Our trustee's testimony is true; the women belonging to our association do + look nice; when they are at Walton they rise to the occasion as if they + were to the manner born. + </p> + <p> + When, with their cheap white or blue blouses, they sit under the palms in + our drawing-room, all, even the oldest and poorest, neat—nay, smart + if you will—they present a picture that can only be appreciated by + those who know their lives. Some people might find fault, but to me the + colour and tone of the picture is perfect. + </p> + <p> + As there were seventy of them, there was room for variety, and they gave + it! Look at them! There they sit as the shades of night are falling. They + have been out all day long, and have come in tired. Are they peevish? Not + a bit! Are they downhearted? No! + </p> + <p> + There is my friend who makes no secret about it, and tells us that she is + forty-six years of age; this is the first time she has ever seen the sea, + and she laughs at the thought. The sun has browned, reddened and roughened + her face, and when I say, "How delicate you look," she bursts again into + merry laughter, and the whole party join her. Mrs. Holmes and myself join + in, and our worthy trustee, bachelor and Quaker though he be, laughs + merriest of all. + </p> + <p> + Aye! but this laughter was sweet music, but somehow it brought tears to my + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Now just look at my friend over there beside one of the palms, her feet + resting so naturally on the Turkey carpet! You observe she sits + majestically in a commodious chair; she needs one! For she is five feet + eleven inches in height, and weighs sixteen stone. I call her "The Queen," + for when she stands up she is erect and queenly with a noble head and + pleasing countenance. + </p> + <p> + She makes no secret about her age; "I am sixty, and I have been here four + times, and, please God, I'll come forty-four more times," and she looks + like it. But what if there had been no Singholm to look forward to year by + year? Why, then she would have been heavy in heart as well as in body, and + her erect form would have been bent, for she is a hard worker from Bethnal + Green. + </p> + <p> + The idea of coming forty-four more times to Singholm, and she sixty-six, + was the signal for more laughter, and again Singholm was tested; but our + builder had done his work well. + </p> + <p> + "Turn on the electric light, matron!" There is a transformation scene for + you! Now you see the delicate art colours in the Turkey carpets, and the + subdued colours in the Medici Society's reproduced pictures. + </p> + <p> + See how they have ranged their chairs all round by the walls, and the + centre of the room is unoccupied, saving here and there maidenhair ferns + and growing flowers. Now look at the picture in its fulness! and we see + poor old bent and feeble bodies bowed with toil, and faces furrowed by + unceasing anxiety; but the sun, the east wind, the sea air and Singholm + have brightened and browned them. + </p> + <p> + There is my poor old friend, long past threescore and ten, to whom + Singholm for a time is verily Heaven; but—"Turn on the gramophone, + please, matron." Thanks to a kind friend, we have a really good one, with + a plentiful supply of records. The matron, in the wickedness of her heart, + turns on an orchestral "cakewalk." The band plays, old bodies begin to + move and sway, and seventy pair of feet begin unconsciously to beat the + floor. Laughter again resounds; our Quaker himself enters into the spirit + of it, so I invite him to lead off with the "Queen" for his partner, at + which he was dismayed, although he is a veritable son of Anak. + </p> + <p> + But to my dismay the bent and feeble septuagenarian offered to lead off + with myself as partner, at which I collapsed, for alas, I cannot dance. + Then our trustee led the roars of laughter that testified to my + discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + So we had no dancing, only a cakewalk. But we had more merriment and + music, and then our little evening service. "What hymn shall we have?" + Many voices called out, "Sun of my soul," so the matron went to the piano, + and I listened while they sang "Watch by the sick, enrich the poor," which + for me, whenever the poor, the feeble and aged sing it, has a power and a + meaning that I never realise when the organ leads a well-trained choir and + a respectable church congregation to blend their voices. + </p> + <p> + Then I read to them a few words from the old, but ever new, Book, and + closed with a few simple, well-known prayers, and then—as old Pepys + has it—"to bed." + </p> + <p> + We watch them file up the great staircase one by one, watch them disappear + into their sweet little rooms and clean sheets. To me, at any rate, the + picture was more comforting and suggestive than Burne Jones's "Golden + Stairs." In fifteen minutes the electric light was switched off, and + Singholm was in darkness and in peace. But outside the stars were shining, + the flowers still blooming, the garden was full of the mystery of sweet + odours; close by the sea was singing its soothing lullaby, and God was + over all! + </p> + <p> + But let us get back to the underworld! + </p> + <p> + "How long have we lived together, did you ask? well, ever since we were + born, and she is sixty-seven," pointing to a paralysed woman, who was + sitting in front of the window. "I am two years younger," she continued, + "and we have never been separated; we have lived together, worked + together, and slept together, and if ever we did have a holiday, we spent + it together. And now we are getting old, just think of it! I am + sixty-five, isn't it terrible? They always used to call us 'the girls' + when mother, father and my brothers were alive, but they have all gone—not + one of them left. But we 'girls' are left, and now we are getting old—sixty-five—isn't + it terrible? We ought to be ashamed of it, I suppose, but we are not, are + we, dear? For we are just 'the girls' to each other, and sometimes I feel + as strong and as young as a girl." + </p> + <p> + "How long have you lived in the top of this four-storey house?" I asked. + "Sixteen years," came the reply. "All alone?" "No, sir, we have been + together." "And your sister, how long has she been paralysed?" "Before we + came to this house." "Does she ever go out?" "Of course she does; don't I + take her out in the bath-chair behind you?" "Can she wash and dress + herself, do her hair, and make herself as clean and tidy as she is?" "I do + it for her." + </p> + <p> + "But how do you get her down these interminable stairs?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "She does that herself, sitting down and going from step to step," she + said, and then added, "but it is hard work for her, and it takes her a + very long time." + </p> + <p> + "Now tell me," I said, "have you ever had a holiday?" "Yes, we have had + one since my sister became paralysed, and we went to Herne Bay." "Did you + take the bath-chair with you?" "Of course we did; how could she go without + it?" "And you pushed her about Herne Bay, and took her on the sands in + it?" I said. "Of course," she said quite naturally, as if she was + surprised at my question. "Now tell me how much rent do you pay for these + two rooms?" "Seven shillings and sixpence per week; I know it is too much, + but I must have a good window for her, where she can sit and look out." + "How do you do your washing?" "I pay the landlady a shilling a week to do + it." "How long have you worked at umbrella covering?" "Ever since we left + school, both of us; we have never done anything else." "How long have your + parents been dead" "More than forty years," was the answer. + </p> + <p> + To every one of the replies made by the younger sister, the paralytic at + the window nodded her head in confirmation as though she would say, "Quite + true, quite true!" + </p> + <p> + "Forgive me asking so many questions, but I want to understand how you + live; you pay seven-and-six rent, and one shilling for washing every week; + that comes to eight shillings and sixpence before you buy food, coal, and + pay for gas; and you must burn a lot of gas, for I am sure that you work + till a very late hour," and the elder sister nodded her head. "Yes, gas is + a big item, but I manage it," and then the elder one spoke. "Yes, she is a + wonderful manager! a wonderful manager! she is better than I ever was." + "Well, dear, you managed well, you know you did, and we saved some money + then, didn't we!" + </p> + <p> + "Ah! we did, but mine is all gone, and I can't work now; but you are a + good manager, better than I ever was." + </p> + <p> + I looked at the aged and brave couple, and took stock of their old but + still good furniture that told its own story, and said, "You had two + accounts in the Post-Office Savings Bank, and when you both worked you + saved all you could?" "Yes, sir, we worked hard, and never wasted + anything." Again the sixty-seven old girl broke in: "But mine is all gone, + all gone, but she is a wonderful manager." "And mine is nearly all gone, + too," said the younger, "but I can work for both of us," and the elder + sister nodded her head as if she would say, "And she can, too!" I looked + at the dozen umbrellas before me, and said, "What do you get for covering + these?" "Ah! that's what's called, vulgarly speaking, a bit of jam! they + are gents' best umbrellas, and I shall get three shillings for them. I got + them out yesterday from the warehouse, after waiting there for two hours. + I shall work till twelve to-night and finish them by midday to-morrow; + they are my very best work." Three shillings for a dozen! her very best + work! and she finding machine and thread, and waiting two hours at the + factory! + </p> + <p> + "Come," I said, "tell me what you earned last week, and how many hours you + worked?" "I earned ten shillings and sixpence; but don't ask me how many + hours I worked, for I don't know; I begin when it is light, because that + saves gas, and I work as long as I can, for I am strong and have good + health." "But," I said, "you paid eight shillings and sixpence for rent + and washing; that left you with two shillings. Does your sister have + anything from the parish?" I felt sorry that I had put the question, for I + got a proud "No, sir," followed by some tears from the sixty-five-year-old + "girl." Presently I said, "However do you spend it?" "Didn't I tell you + that I had saved some, and was drawing it? But I manage, and get a bit of + meat, too!" Again from the window came the words, "She is a good manager." + </p> + <p> + "What will you do when you have drawn all your savings?" "Oh! I shall + manage, and God is good," was all I could get. + </p> + <p> + A brave, heroic soul, surely, dwells in that aged girl, for in her I found + no bitterness, no repining; nay, I found a sense of humour and the + capability of a hearty laugh as we talked on and on, for I was in + wonderland. + </p> + <p> + When I rose to leave, she offered to accompany us—for a friend was + with me—downstairs to the door; I said, "No, don't come down, we + will find our way; stop and earn half-a-crown, and please remember that + you are sixty-five." "Hush!" she said, "the landlady will hear you; don't + tell anybody, isn't it awful? and we were called the girls," and she burst + into a merry laugh. During our conversation the paralysed sister had + several times assured me that she "would like to have a ride in a + motor-car." This I am afraid I cannot promise her, much as I would like to + do so; but the exact object of my visit was to make arrangements for "the + girls" to go to our home of rest for a whole fortnight. + </p> + <p> + And they went, bath-chair as well. For sixteen long years they had not + seen the sea or listened to its mighty voice, but for a whole fortnight + they enjoyed its never-ending wonder and inhaled its glorious breath. And + the younger "girl" pushed the chair, and the older "girl" sat in it the + while they prattled, and talked and managed, till almost the days of their + real girlhood came back to them. Dull penury and sordid care were banished + for a whole fortnight and appetite came by eating. The older "girl" said, + "If I stop here much longer, I know I shall walk," and she nearly managed + it too, for when helped out of her chair, she first began to stand, and + then to progress a little step by step by holding on to any friendly solid + till she almost became a child again. But the fortnight ended all too + soon, and back to their upper room, the window and the umbrellas they + came, to live that fortnight over and over again, and to count the days, + weeks and months that are to elapse before once again the two old girls + and an old—so old—bath-chair will revel and joy, eat and rest, + prattle and laugh by the sea. + </p> + <p> + But they have had their "motor ride," too! and the girls sat side by side, + and although it was winter time they enjoyed it, and they have a new theme + for prattle. + </p> + <p> + I have since ascertained that the sum of ten shillings, and ten shillings + only, remained in the Post-Office Savings Bank to the credit of the + managing sister. + </p> + <p> + But I have also learned something else quite as pitiful—it is this: + the allowance of coal during the winter months for these heroic souls was + one half-hundredweight per week, fifty-six lb., which cost them + eightpence-halfpenny. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. MARRIAGE IN THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + Young folk marry and are given in marriage at a very early age in the + underworld. Their own personal poverty and thousands of warning examples + are not sufficient to deter them. Strange to say, their own parents + encourage them, and, more strange still, upperworld people of education + and experience lend a willing hand in what is at the best a deplorable + business. + </p> + <p> + Under their conditions it is perhaps difficult to say what other course + can or ought to be taken, for their homes are like beehives, and + "swarming" time inevitably comes. That oftentimes comes when young people + of either sex are midway in their "teens." The cramped little rooms or + room that barely sufficed for the parents and small children are + altogether out of the question when the children become adolescent. The + income of the family is not sufficient to allow the parents, even if they + were desirous of doing so, taking larger premises with an extra bedroom. + Very few parents brace themselves to this endeavour, for it means not only + effort but expense. So the young folks swarm either to lodgings, or to + marriage, and the pretence of home life. + </p> + <p> + Private lodgings for girls are dangerous and expensive, while public + lodgings for youths are probably a shade worse. So marriage it is, and + boys of nineteen unite with girls one or two years younger. + </p> + <p> + I have no doubt that the future looks very rosy to the young couple whose + united earnings may amount to as much as thirty shillings weekly, for it + is an axiom of the poor that two can live cheaper than one. + </p> + <p> + It is so easy to pay a deposit on a single room, and so easy, so very + easy, to purchase furniture on the hire system. Does not the youth give + his mother ten shillings weekly? Why not give it to a wife? Does not the + girl contribute to her mother's exchequer? Why may not she become a wife + and spend her own earnings? Both are heartily sick of their present home + life, any change must be for the better! So marriage it is! But they have + saved nothing, they are practically penniless beyond the current week's + wages. Never mind, they can get their wedding outfit on the pay weekly + rule, the parson will marry them for nothing. "Here's a church, let's go + in and get married." Christmas, Easter or Bank Holiday comes to their aid, + and they do it! and, heigho! for life's romance. + </p> + <p> + The happy bride continues at the factory, and brings her shillings to make + up the thirty. They pay three shillings and sixpence weekly for their + room, one-and-six weekly for their household goods, two more shillings + weekly are required for their wedding clothes, that is all! Have they not + twenty-three shillings left! + </p> + <p> + They knew that they could manage it! All goes merrily as a marriage bell! + Hurrah! They can afford a night or two a week at a music-hall; why did + they not get married before? how stupid they had been! + </p> + <p> + But something happens, for the bride becomes a mother. Her wages cease, + and thirty shillings weekly for two is a very different matter to twenty + shillings for three! + </p> + <p> + They had to engage an old woman for nurse for one week only. But that cost + seven shillings and sixpence. A number of other extras are incurred, all + to be paid out of his earnings. They have not completed the hire purchase + business; they have even added to that expense by the purchase of a + bassinet at one shilling weekly for thirty weeks. The bassinet, however, + serves one useful purpose, it saves the expense of a cradle. + </p> + <p> + In less than a fortnight the girl mother is again knocking at the factory + door. She wishes to become an "out-worker"; the manager, knowing her to be + a capable machinist, gives her work, and promises her a constant supply. + </p> + <p> + Now they are all right again! Are they? Why, she has no sewing-machine! + Stranded again! not a bit of it. The hire purchase again comes to her + help. Eighteenpence deposit is paid, a like weekly payment promised, + signed for and attended to; and lo! a sparkling new sewing-machine is + deposited in their one room. Let us take an inventory of their goods: one + iron bedstead, flock mattress, two pairs of sheets, two blankets and a + common counterpane, a deal chest of drawers, a deal table, two Windsor + chairs, a bassinet carriage, a sewing-machine, fire-shovel, fender and + poker, some few crocks, a looking-glass, a mouth-organ and a couple of + towels, some knives, forks and spoons, a tea-pot, tea-kettle, saucepan and + frying-pan. But I have been very liberal! They stand close together, do + those household goods; they crowd each other, and if one moves, it jostles + the other. The sewing-machine stands in front of the little window, for it + demands the light. It took some scheming to arrange this, but husband and + wife ultimately managed it. The bassinet stands close to the machine, that + the girl mother may push it gently when baby is cross, and that she may + reach the "soother" and replace it when it falls from baby's mouth. + </p> + <p> + Now she is settled down! off she goes! She starts on a life of toil, + compared to which slavery is light and pleasant. Oh, the romance of it; + work from morn till late at night. The babe practically unwashed, the + house becomes grimy, and the bed and bassinet nasty. The husband's wages + have not risen, though his expenses have; other children come and some go; + they get behind with their rent; an "ejectment order" is enforced. The + wretched refuse of the home is put on the street pavement, the door is + locked against them, and the wretched couple with their children are on + the pavement too! The only thing to survive the wreck is the + sewing-machine. The only thing that I know among the many things supplied + to the poor on the hire system that is the least bit likely to stand the + wear and tear is the machine. Doubtless the poor pay highly for it; still + it is comforting to know that in this one direction the poor are supplied + with good articles. And the poor respect their machines, as the poor + always respect things that are not shoddy. + </p> + <p> + I have drawn no fancy picture, but one that holds true with regard to + thousands. Evils that I cannot enumerate and that imagination cannot + exaggerate wait upon and attend these unfortunate, nay, criminal + marriages; which very largely are the result of that one great + all-pervading cause—the housing of the poor. + </p> + <p> + But in the underworld there are much worse kinds of married life than the + one I have pictured, for those young people did start life with some + income and some hopes. But what can be said about, and what new + condemnation can be passed upon, the marriage of feeble-minded, + feeble-bodied, homeless wanderers? United in the bonds of holy matrimony + by an eager clergy, and approved in this deplorable step by an all-wise + State, thousands of crazy, curious, wretched, penniless individuals, to + whom even the hire system is impossible, join their hopeless lives. + </p> + <p> + Half idiots of both sexes in our workhouses look at each other, and then + take their discharge after a mutual understanding. They experience no + difficulty in finding clergymen ready to marry them and unite them in the + bonds of poverty and the gall of wretchedness. The blessing of the Church + is pronounced upon this coupling, and away they go! + </p> + <p> + Over their lives and means of living I will draw a veil, for common + decency forbids me to speak, as common decency ought to have forbidden + their marriage. + </p> + <p> + But down in the underworld, and very low down, too, are numberless couples + whose plight is perhaps worse, for they have at any rate known the refined + comfort of good homes, but remembrance only adds poignancy to suffering + and despair. + </p> + <p> + Read the following story, and after condemnation upon condemnation has + been passed upon the thoughtless or wicked marriages of the poor, tell me, + if you will, what condemnation shall be passed upon the educated when + they, through marriage, drag down into this inferno innocent, loving and + pure women? + </p> + <p> + It was Boxing Day in a London police-court. Twenty-five years have passed, + but that day is as fresh in my memory as though it were yesterday. The + prisoners' rooms were filled, the precincts of the court were full, and a + great crowd of witnesses and friends, or of the curious public, were + congregated in the street. + </p> + <p> + Yesterday had been the great Christian festival, the celebration of the + birth of the Prince of Peace, when the bells had rang out the old story + "Peace on earth, good-will to men." To-day it looked as though Hell had + been holding carnival! + </p> + <p> + Nearly one hundred prisoners had to come before the magistrate. I can see + them now! as one by one they passed before him, for time has not dimmed + the vivid picture of that procession. I remember their stories, and think + still of their cuts and wounds. Outside the court the day was dull, and + inside the light was bad and the air heavy with the fumes of stale debauch + and chloride of lime. And yesterday had been Christmas Day in the + metropolis of Christendom. + </p> + <p> + Hours passed, and the kindly magistrate sat on apportioning punishment, + fitting the sentence as it were by instinct. At two o'clock he rose for a + short recess, a hasty luncheon, and then back to his task. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the long procession came a smitten woman. Darkness and fog + now enveloped the court as the woman stood in the dock. Her age was given + as twenty-eight; her occupation pickle-making. First let me picture that + woman and then tell her story, for she represents a number of women into + whose forlorn faces I have looked and of whose hopeless hearts I have an + intimate knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Some men have conquered evil habits, helped by the love of a pure woman, + without which they would have vainly struggled or have readily succumbed. + But while I know this, I think of the women who have fastened the tendrils + of their heart's affection round unworthy men, and have married them, + hoping, trusting and believing that their love and influence would be + powerful enough to win the men to sobriety and virtue. Alas! how mistaken + they have been! What they have endured! Of such was this woman! There she + stood, the embodiment of woe. A tall, refined woman, her clothing poor and + sparse, her head enveloped in surgical bandages. + </p> + <p> + In the darkness of the Christmas night she had leaped from the wall of a + canal bridge into the murky gloom, her head had struck the bank, and she + rolled into the thick, black water. + </p> + <p> + It was near the basin of the Surrey Canal, and a watchman on duty had + pulled her out; she had been taken to a hospital and attended to. Late in + the afternoon the policeman brought her to the court, where a charge of + attempted suicide was brought against her. But little evidence was taken, + and the magistrate ordered a week's remand. In the cells I had a few + moments' conversation with her, but all I could get from her was the + pitiful moan, "Why didn't they let me die? why didn't they let me die?" + </p> + <p> + In a week's time I saw her again; surgical bandages were gone, medical + attention and a week's food and rest had done something for her, but still + she was the personification of misery. + </p> + <p> + I offered to take charge of her, and as she quietly promised not to repeat + the attempt, the magistrate kindly committed her to my care. So we went to + her room: it was a poor place, and many steps we climbed before we entered + it. High up as the room was, and small as were its dimensions, she, out of + the nine shillings she earned at the pickle factory paid three and + sixpence weekly for it. I had gathered from what she had told me that she + was in poverty and distress. So on our way I brought a few provisions; + leaving these and a little money with her, I left her promising to see her + again after a few days. But before leaving she briefly told me her story, + a sad, sad story, but a story to be read and pondered. + </p> + <p> + She was the only daughter of a City merchant, and had one brother. While + she was quite a child her mother died, and at an early age she managed her + father's household. She made the acquaintance of a clever and accomplished + man who was an accountant. He was older than she, and of dissipated + habits. Her father had introduced him to his home and daughter, little + thinking of the consequences that ensued. She had no mother to guide her, + she was often lonely, for her father was immersed in his business. + </p> + <p> + In a very short time she had fixed her heart on to the man, and when too + late her father expostulated, and finally forbade the man the house. This + only intensified her love and led to quarrels with her father. Ultimately + they married, and had a good home and two servants. In a little over three + years two children added to her joys and sorrows. Still her husband's + faults were not amended, but his dissipation increased. Monetary + difficulties followed, and to avoid disgrace her father was called upon to + provide a large sum of money. + </p> + <p> + This did not add to his sympathy, but it estranged the father and child. + </p> + <p> + Then difficulties followed, and soon her husband stood in the dock charged + with embezzlement. Eighteen months' imprisonment was awarded him, but the + greater punishment fell upon the suffering wife. Her father refused to see + her, so with her two little ones she was left to face the future. Parting + with most of her furniture, jewellery, servant, she gave up her house, + took two small rooms, and waited wearily for the eighteen months to pass. + </p> + <p> + They passed, and her husband came back to her. But his character was gone, + the difficulty of finding employment stared him in the face. + </p> + <p> + He joined the ranks of the shabby-genteel to live somehow by bits of + honest work, mixed with a great deal of dishonest work. Four years of this + life, two more children for the mother, increasing drunkenness, + degenerating into brutality on her husband's part. Her father's death and + some little money left to her gave momentary respite. But the money soon + went. Her brother had taken the greater portion and had gone into a far + country. This was the condition of affairs when her husband was again + arrested; this time for forgery. There was no doubt about his guilt, and a + sentence of five years' penal servitude followed. Again she parted with + most of her home, reducing it to one room. + </p> + <p> + With her four children round her she tried to eke out an existence. She + soon became penniless, and ultimately with her children took refuge in a + London workhouse. After a time the guardians sent the four children to + their country school and nursing home, when she was free to leave the + workhouse and get her own living. + </p> + <p> + She came out with a letter of introduction to the pickle factory, and + obtained employment at nine shillings a week. The weeks and months passed, + her daily task and common round being a mile walk to the factory, ten + hours' work, and then the return journey. One week-end on her homeward + journey she was attracted and excited by a fire; when she resumed her + journey she was penniless, her week's wages had been stolen from her. Her + only warm jacket and decent pair of boots then had to be pawned, for the + rent must be paid. Monday found her again at the monotonous round, but + with added hardships. + </p> + <p> + She missed the jacket and the boots, and deprived herself of food that she + might save enough money wherewith to take them out of pawn. Christmas Eve + came, and she had not recovered them. She sat in her room lonely and with + a sad heart, but there was mirth and noise below her, for even among the + poor Bacchus must be worshipped at Christmas time. + </p> + <p> + One of the women thought of the poor lone creature up at the top of the + house, and fetched her down. They had their bottles of cheap spirits, for + which they had paid into the publican's Christmas club. She drank, and + forgot her misery. Next morning, when the bells of a neighbouring church + were ringing out, they awoke her as she lay fully dressed on her little + bed. She felt ill and dazed, and by and by the consciousness came to her + of fast night's drinking. Christmas Day she spent alone, ill, miserable + and ashamed. "I must have been drunk!" she kept repeating to herself, and + on Christmas night she sought her death. + </p> + <p> + I wrote to kind friends, and interested some ladies in her welfare. Plenty + of clothing was sent for her; a better room, not quite so near the sky, + was procured for her. Her daily walk to the factory was stopped, for more + profitable work was given to her. Finally I left her in the hands of kind + friends that I knew would care for her. + </p> + <p> + Two years passed, and on Christmas Eve I called with a present and a note + sent her by a friend. She was gone—her husband had been released on + ticket-of-leave, had found her and joined her, and for a time she kept him + as well as herself. He was more brutal than before, and in his fury, + either drunk or sober, he frequently beat her, so that the people of the + house had to send them away. Where they had moved to, I failed to find + out, but they had vanished! + </p> + <p> + Fourteen months passed, and one bitterly cold day in February at the end + of a long row of prisoners, waiting their turn to appear before the + magistrate, stood the woman wretched and ill, with a puling bit of + mortality in her arms. + </p> + <p> + She was a "day charge," having been arrested for stealing a pot of + condensed milk. At length she stood before the magistrate, and the + evidence was given that she was seen to take the milk and hurry away. She + was arrested with the milk on her. + </p> + <p> + It was believed that she had taken milk from the same place at other + times. When asked what she had to say in extenuation, she held her child + up and said, "I did not take it for myself, I took it for this!" She did + not call it her child. The magistrate looked, shuddered, and sentenced her + to one day. + </p> + <p> + So once again I stood face to face with her, and face to face with a big + man who had been waiting for her, who insolently asked me what I wanted + with his wife. I turned from him to the woman, and asked if she would + leave him, for if so I would provide for her. + </p> + <p> + Mournfully she shook her head; leave him, no!—to the bitter end she + stood by him. + </p> + <p> + So they passed from my view, the educated brute and the despairing, + battered, faithful drudge of a woman, to migrate from lodging-house to + lodging-house, to suffer and to die! + </p> + <p> + If all the girls of England could see what I have seen, if they could + take, as I have taken, some measure of the keen anguish and sorrow that + comes from such a step, they would never try the dangerous experiment of + marrying a man in the hope of reforming him. Should, perchance, young + women read this story, let me tell them it is true in every particular, + but not the whole truth, for there are some things that cannot be told. + </p> + <p> + Again and again I have heard poor stricken women cry: "How can you! how + can you!" More than once my manhood has been roused, and I have struck a + blow in their defence. + </p> + <p> + If there is one piece of advice that, in the light of my experience, I + would like to burn into the very consciousness of young women, it is this: + if they have fastened their heart's love about a man, and find that + thorough respect does not go with that love, then, at whatever cost, let + them crush that love as they would crush a serpent's egg. + </p> + <p> + And the same holds good with men: I have known men in moments of passion + marry young women, trusting that a good home and an assured income would + restore them to decency and womanhood—but in vain! I saw a + foul-looking woman far from old sent again to prison, where she had been + more than a hundred times. She had also served two years in an inebriate + reformatory. Fifteen years ago, when I first met her, she was a + fair-looking young woman. Needless to say, I met her in the police-court. + A short time afterwards she came to tell me that she was married. She had + a good home, her husband was in good circumstances, and knew of her life. + A few years of home life, two little children to call her mother; then + back to her sensual ways. Prisons, rescue homes, workhouses, inebriate + reformatories, all have failed to reclaim her, and she lives to spread + moral corruption. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. BRAINS IN THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + I hope that, in some of my chapters, I have made it clear that a large + proportion of the underworld people are industrious and persevering. I + want in this chapter to show that many of them have also ability and + brains, gifts and graces. This is a pleasant theme, and I would revel in + it, but for the sorrowful side of it. + </p> + <p> + It may seem strange that people living under their conditions should + possess these qualities, but in reality there is nothing strange about it, + for Nature laughs at us, and bestows her gifts upon whom she pleases, + though I have no doubt that she works to law and order if we only + understood. + </p> + <p> + But we do not understand, and therefore she appears whimsical and + capricious. I rather expect that even when eugenists get their way and the + human race is born to order, that Dame Nature, the mother of us all, will + not consent to be left out of the reckoning. Be that as it may, it is + certain she bestows her personal gifts among the very poor equally with + the rich. She is a true socialist, and, like Santa Claus, she visits the + homes of the very poor and bestows gifts upon their children. + </p> + <p> + Some of the most perfect ladies I have ever met have been uneducated women + living in poverty and gloom. I do not say the most beautiful, for + suffering and poverty are never beautiful. Neither can rings of care + beneath the eyes, and countless furrows upon the face be considered + beautiful. But, apart from this, I have found many personal graces and the + perfection of behaviour among some of the poorest. All this I consider + more wonderful than the possession of brains, though of brains they are by + no means deficient. + </p> + <p> + Have you ever noticed how pretty the healthy children of the very poor + are? I am not speaking of unhealthy and feeble children, who are all too + numerous, but of the healthy; for, strange as it may appear, there are + many such, even in the underworld. Where do you find such beautiful curly + hair as they possess? in very few places! It is perfect in its freedom, + texture, colour and curl. Dame Nature has not forgotten them! Where do you + find prettier faces, more sparkling eyes and eager expressions? Nowhere! + And though their faces become prematurely old, and their eyes become hard, + still Dame Nature had not forgotten them at birth; she, at any rate, had + done her best for them. + </p> + <p> + Search any families, bring out the hundreds of pretty children, and I will + bring hundreds of children from below the line that will compare with them + in beauty of body, face and hair. But they must be under four years of + age! No! no! the children of the upperworld have not a monopoly of Dame + Nature's gifts. + </p> + <p> + And it is so with mental gifts and graces; the poor get a good share of + them, but the pity is they get so little chance of exercising them. For + many splendid qualities wither from disuse or perish from lack of + development. But some survive, as the following stories will prove. + </p> + <p> + It was a hot day in June, and, in company with a friend who wished to + learn something about the lives of the very poor, I was visiting in the + worst quarters of East London. + </p> + <p> + As we moved from house to house, the thick air within, and the dirt within + and without were almost too much for us. The box-like rooms, the horrible + backyards, the grime of the men, women and children, combined with the + filth in the streets and gutters, made us sick and faint. We asked + ourselves whether it was possible that anything decent, virtuous or + intelligent could live under such conditions? + </p> + <p> + The "place" was dignified by the name of a street, although in reality it + was a blind alley, for a high wall closed one end of it. It was very + narrow, and while infants played in the unclean gutters, frowsy women + discussed domestic or more exciting matters with women on the opposite + side. + </p> + <p> + They discussed us too as we passed, and audibly commented, though not + favourably, on our business. I had visited the street scores of times, and + consequently I was well known. Unfortunately my address was also well + known, for every little act of kindness that I ventured to do in that + street had been followed by a number of letters from jealous + non-recipients. + </p> + <p> + I venture to say that from every house save one I had received begging or + unpleasant letters, for jealousy of each other's benefits was a marked + characteristic of that unclean street. As we entered the house from which + no letter had been received, we heard a woman call to her neighbour, "They + are going to see the old shoemaker." She was correct in her surmise, and + right glad we were to make the old man's acquaintance; not that he was + very old, but then fifty-nine in a London slum may be considered old age. + He sat in a Windsor arm-chair in a very small kitchen; a window at his + back revealed that abomination of desolation, a Bethnal Green backyard. He + sat as he had sat for years, bent and doubled up, for some kind of + paralysis had overtaken him. + </p> + <p> + He had a fine head and a pointed beard, his thin and weak neck seemed + hardly able to bear its heavy burden. He was not overclean, and his + clothes were, to say the least, shabby. But there he sat, his wife at work + to maintain him. We stood, for there was no sitting room for us. Grime, + misery and poverty were in evidence. + </p> + <p> + He told us that his forefathers were Huguenots, who fled from France and + settled as silk weavers in Spitalfields. He had been apprenticed to boot- + and shoe-making, his particular branch of work having been boots and shoes + for actresses and operatic singers. That formerly he had earned good + money, but the trade declined as he had grown older, and now for some + years he had been crippled and unable to work, and dependent upon his + wife, who was a machinist. + </p> + <p> + There did not seem much room for imagination and poetry in his home and + life, but the following conversation took place— + </p> + <p> + "It is a very hard life for you sitting month after month on that chair, + unable to do anything!" "It is hard, I do not know what I should do if I + could not think." "Oh, you think, do you well, thinking is hard work." + "Not to me, it is my pleasure and occupation." "What do you think about?" + "All sorts of things, what I have read mostly." "What have you read" + "Everything that I could get hold of, novelists, poetry, history and + travel." "What novelist do you like best" The answer came prompt and + decisive: "Dickens," "Why?" "He loved the poor, he shows a greater belief + in humanity than Thackeray." "How do you prove that?" "Well, take + Thackeray's VANITY FAIR, it is clever and satirical, but there is only one + good character, and he was a fool; but in Dickens you come across + character after character that you can't help loving." + </p> + <p> + "Which of his books do you like best?" "A TALE OF TWO CITIES." "Why?" + "Well, because the French Revolution always appeals to me, and secondly + because I think the best bit of writing in all his books is the + description of Sydney Carton's ride on the tumbrel to the guillotine." + "Have you ever read Carlyle's FRENCH REVOLUTION?" "No" "I will lend it to + you." "If you do, I will read it." + </p> + <p> + "How about poetry, what poets do you like?" "The minor poets of two + hundred years ago, Herrick, Churchill, Shenstone and others." "Why do you + like them?" "They are so pretty, so easy to understand, you know what they + mean; they speak of beauty, and flowers and love, their language is + tuneful and sweet." Thus the grimy old shoemaker spoke, but I continued: + "What about the present-day poets?" Swift came the reply, "We have got + none." This was a staggerer, but I suggested: "What about Kipling?" "Too + slangy and Coarse!" "Austin?" "Don't ask me." "What of Wordsworth, + Tennyson and Browning?" "Well, Wordsworth is too prosy, you have to read + such a lot to get a little; Tennyson is a bit sickly and too sentimental, + I mean with washy sentiment; Browning I cannot understand, he is too hard + for me." + </p> + <p> + "Now let us talk: about dramatists; you have read Shakespeare?" "Yes, + every play again and again." "Which do you like best?" "I like them all, + the historical and the imaginative; I have never seen one acted, but to me + King Lear is his masterpiece." + </p> + <p> + So we left him doubled up in his chair, in his grime and poverty, lighting + up his poor one room with great creations, bearing his heavy burdens, + never repining, thinking great thoughts and re-enacting great events, for + his mind to him was a kingdom. + </p> + <p> + The next day my friend sent a dozen well-selected books, but the old + shoemaker never sought or looked for any assistance. + </p> + <p> + Only a few doors away we happened on a slum tragedy. We stood in a queer + little house of one room up and one down stairs. Let me picture the scene! + A widow was seated at her machine sewing white buckskin children's boots. + Time, five o'clock in the afternoon; she had sat there for many hours, and + would continue to sit till night was far advanced. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a girl of twelve burst in and threw herself into her mother's + arms, crying, "Oh, mother, mother, I have lost the scholarship! Oh, + mother, the French was too hard for me!" To our surprise the mother seemed + intensely relieved, and said, "Thank God for that!" + </p> + <p> + But the girl wept! After a time we inquired, and found that the girl, + having passed the seventh standard at an elementary school, had been + attending a higher grade school, where she had been entered for a + competitive examination at a good class secondary school. If she obtained + it, the widow would have been compelled to sign an agreement for the girl + to remain at school for at least three years. But the widow was + practically starving, although working fourteen hours daily. Verily, the + conflict of duties forms the tragedy of everyday life. The widow was saved + by the advanced French; poor mother and poor girl! + </p> + <p> + By and by the girl was comforted as we held the prospective of a bright + future before her, and got her to talk of her studies; she recited for us + a scene from AS YOU LIKE IT, and also Portia's speech, "The quality of + mercy is not strained." + </p> + <p> + Standing near was a boy of not more than ten years, who looked as if he + would like to recite for us, and I asked him what standard he was in. "The + sixth, sir." "And do you like English Literature?" He did not answer the + question exactly, but said, "I know the 'Deserted Village,' by Oliver + Goldsmith." + </p> + <p> + "Where was the 'Deserted Village'?" "Sweet Auburn was supposed to be in + Ireland, but it is thought that some of the scenes are taken from English + villages." + </p> + <p> + "Can you give us the 'Village Schoolmaster'?" And he did, with point and + emphasis. "Now for the 'Village Parson.'" His memory did not fail or trip, + and the widow sat there machining; so we turned to her for more + information, and found that she was a Leicester woman, and her parents + Scots; she had been a boot machinist from her youth. + </p> + <p> + Her husband was a "clicker" from Stafford; he had been dead eight years. + She was left with four children. She had another daughter of fourteen who + had done brilliantly at school, having obtained many distinctions, and at + twelve years had passed her "Oxford Local." This girl had picked up + typewriting herself, and as she was good at figures and a splendid writer, + she obtained a junior clerk's place in the City at seven shillings and + sixpence per week. Every day this girl walked to and from her business, + and every day the poor widow managed to find her fourpence that the girl + might have a lunch in London City. + </p> + <p> + I felt interested in this girl, so I wrote asking her to come to lunch + with me on a certain day. She came with a book in her hand, one of George + Eliot's, one of her many prizes. A fourpenny lunch may be conducive to + high thinking, may even lead to an appreciation of great novels: it + certainly leaves plenty of time for the improvement of the mind, though it + does not do much for nourishing the body. I found her exceedingly + interesting and intelligent, with some knowledge of "political economy," + well up in advanced arithmetic, and quite capable of discussing the books + she had read. Yet the family had been born in an apology of a house, they + had graduated in the slums, but not in the gutter. Their widowed mother + had worked interminable hours and starved as she worked, but no attendance + officer had ever been required to compel her children to school. It would + have taken force to keep them away. But what of their future? Who can say? + But of one thing I am very sure, and it is this: that, given fair + opportunity, the whole family will adorn any station of life that they may + be called to fill. + </p> + <p> + But will they have that opportunity? Well, the friend that was with me + says they will, and he has commissioned me to act for him, promising me + that if I am taken first and he is left, the cultured family of the slums + shall not go uncared for. And amidst the sordid life of our mean streets, + there are numbers of brilliant children whose God-given talents not only + run to waste, but are actually turned into evil for lack of opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Here and there one and another rise superior to their environment, and + with splendid perseverance fight their way to higher and better life. And + some of them rise to eminence, for genius is not rare even in Slumdom. + </p> + <p> + One of our greatest artists, lately dead, whose work all civilisation + delights to honour, played in a slum gutter, and climbed a lamp-post that + he might get a furtive look into a school of art. + </p> + <p> + All honour and good wishes to the rising young, but all glory to the + half-starved widows who shape their characters and form their tastes. To + the old shoemaker good wishes; may the small pension that a friend of mine + has settled on him add to his comfort and his health, may his beloved + minor poets with Dickens and Shakespeare long be dear to him, and may his + poor little home long continue to be peopled with bright creations that + defy the almost omnipotent power of the underworld. + </p> + <p> + If any who may read these words would like to do a kind action that will + not be void of good results and sure reward, I would say lend a helping + hand to some poor family where, in spite of their poverty and + surroundings, the children are clean and intelligent, and have made + progress at school. For they are just needing a hand, it may be to help + with their education, or it may be to give them a suitable start in life. + If the mother happens to be a widow, you cannot do wrong. + </p> + <p> + If one half of the money that is spent trying to help unhelpable people + was spent in helping the kind of families I refer to in the manner I + describe, the results would be surprising. + </p> + <p> + If there is any difficulty in finding such families, I would say apply to + the head mistress or master of a big school in a poor neighbourhood, they + can find them for you. If they cannot, why then I will from among my + self-supporting widow friends. + </p> + <p> + But do not, I beseech you, apply to the clergyman of the parish, for he + will naturally select some poor family to whom he has charitably acted the + part of relieving officer. Remember it is brains and grit that you are in + search of, and not poor people only. + </p> + <p> + If in every neighbourhood a few people would band themselves together for + this purpose and spend money for this one charitable purpose, it would of + itself, and in reasonable time, effect mighty results. Believe me, there + is plenty of brain power and grit in the underworld that never gets a + chance of developing in a useful direction. Boys and girls possessing such + talents are doomed, unless a miracle happens, for they have to start in + life anyhow and anywhere. + </p> + <p> + Nothing is of more importance than a correct start in life for any boy or + girl; but a false start, a bad beginning for the children of the very poor + who happen to possess brain power is fatal. Their talents get no chance, + for they are never used, consequently they atrophy, or, worse still, are + used in a wrong direction and possibly for evil. Good is changed into + evil, bright and useful life is frustrated, and the State loses the useful + power and influence that should result from brains and grit. + </p> + <p> + How can my widow friends, who are unceasingly at work, have either the + time, opportunity or knowledge to find proper openings for their children? + The few shillings that a boy or girl can earn at anything, or anyhow that + is honest, are a great temptation. The commencement dominates the future! + Prospective advantage must needs give place to present requirements. + </p> + <p> + So we all lose! The upperworld loses the children's gifts, character and + service. The underworld retains their poor service for life. + </p> + <p> + "It is better," said Milton, "to kill a man than a book." Which may be + true, but probably the truth depends upon the quality of the man and the + book. But what about killing mind, soul, heart, aspirations and every + quality that goes to make up a man? "Their angels do always behold the + face of my Father"; yes, but we compel them to withdraw that gaze, and + look contentedly into the face of evil. + </p> + <p> + I am now pleading for the gifted boys and girls of the underworld, not the + weaklings, for of them I speak elsewhere. But I will say, that while the + weaklings are the more hopeless, it is the talented that are the most + dangerous. Let us see to it that their powers have some chance of + developing in a right direction. When by some extraordinary concurrence of + circumstances a Council School boy passes on to a university and takes a + good degree, it is chronicled all over the world; the school, the teacher, + the boy and his parents are all held up for show and admiration. I declare + it makes me ill! Why? Because I know that in the underworld thousands of + men are grubbing, burrowing and grovelling who, as boys, possessed + phenomenal abilities, but whose parents were poor, so poor that their + gifted children had no chance of developing the talent that was in them. + Let us give them a chance! Sometimes here and there one and another bursts + his bonds, and, rejoicing in his freedom, does brilliant things. But in + spite of Samuel Smiles and his self-help they are but few, though, if the + centuries are searched, the catalogue will be impressive enough. + </p> + <p> + Of course there must be self-help. But there must be opportunity also. + There is a great deal of talk about the children of the poor being + "over-educated," and the delinquencies of the youthful poor are attributed + to this bogy. It is because they are under-educated, not over-educated, + that the children of the very poor so often go wrong. + </p> + <p> + But the attempt to cast them all in the same mould is disastrous; there is + an over-education going on in this direction. Not all the children of the + poor can be great scholars, but some of them can! Let us give them a + chance. Not all of them can be scientists and engineers, etc., but some of + them have talents for such things! Give them a chance! A good many of them + have unmistakably artistic gifts! Why not give them a chance too! And the + mechanically inclined should have a chance! Why can we not differentiate + according to their tastes and gifts? + </p> + <p> + For even then we shall have enough left to be our hewers of wood and + carriers of water; an abundance will remain to do all the work that + requires neither brains nor gifts. + </p> + <p> + But let us stop at once and for ever trying to cram thick heads and poor + brains with stuff that cannot possibly be appreciated or understood. Let + us teach their mechanical fingers to do something useful, and give them, + even the degenerates, some chance! + </p> + <p> + And we must stop our blind alley occupation for growing lads, for at the + end of the alley stands an open door to the netherworld, and through it + youthful life passes with little prospect of return. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. PLAY IN THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + It may seem a strange thing, but children do play in the underworld. They + have their own games and their times and seasons too! + </p> + <p> + Yet no one can watch them as they play without experiencing feelings more + or less pathetic. There is something incongruous about it that may cause a + smile, but there is also something that will probably cause a tear. + </p> + <p> + For their playgrounds are the gutters or the pavements. Happy are the + children when they can procure a spacious pavement, for in the underworld + wide pavements are scarce; still narrow pavements and gutters are always + to hand. + </p> + <p> + It is summer time, the holidays have come! No longer the hum, babble and + shouts of children are heard in and around those huge buildings, the + County Council schools. + </p> + <p> + The sun pours its rays into the unclean streets, the thermometer registers + eighty in the shade. Down from the top storey and other storeys of the + blocks the children come, happy in the consciousness that for one month at + least they will be free from school, without dodging the school attendance + officer. + </p> + <p> + "Hop-scotch" season has commenced, and as if by magic the pavements of the + narrow streets are covered with chalked lines, geometrical figures and + numerals, and the mysterious word "tod" confronts you, stares at you, and + puzzles you. + </p> + <p> + Who can understand the intricacies of "hop-scotch" or the fascination of + "tod"? None but the girls of the underworld. Simple pleasures please them—a + level pavement, a piece of chalk, a "pitcher," the sun overhead, dirt + around, a few companions and non-troublesome babies, are their chief + requirements; for few of these girls come out to play without the eternal + baby. + </p> + <p> + Notice first, if you will, how deftly these foster-mothers handle the + babies; their very method tells of long-continued practice. What slaves + these girls are! But they have brought the baby's feeding-bottle, and also + that other fearsome indispensable of underworld infant life, "the + comforter." + </p> + <p> + They are going to make a day of it, a mad and merry day, for they have + with them some pieces of bread and margarine to sustain them in the toil + of nursing and the exhaustion of "hop-scotch." + </p> + <p> + The "pitcher" is produced, and we notice how punctiliously each girl takes + her proper turn and starts from the correct place; we notice also the + dilapidated condition of their boots, that act as golf clubs and propel + the "pitcher." We wonder how with such boots, curled and twisted to every + conceivable shape, they can strike the "pitcher" at all. There is some + skill in "hop-scotch" played as these girls play it, and with their + "boots" too! + </p> + <p> + A one-legged game is "hop-scotch," for the left foot must be held clear of + the pavement, and the "pitcher" must be propelled with the right foot as + the girl "hops." + </p> + <p> + If she hops too high and misses it, she is "out"; if she strikes too hard, + and it travels beyond one of the boundaries, she is "out" too; if she does + not propel it far enough, again "out." + </p> + <p> + Why, of course there is skill and fascination in it, for it combines the + virtues of golf and baseball, and "tod" is quite as good as a football + goal. And there is good fellowship and self-denial going on, too; not + quite every girl, thank Heaven, is hampered or blessed with a baby, and we + notice how cheerfully they take their turn in nursing while the + foster-mother arrives at "tod." + </p> + <p> + The substitute, too, understands the use of the "comforter," for should it + roll in the dirty gutter she promptly returns it to its proper place, the + baby's mouth. Untidy, slatternly girls, not over-clean, not over-dressed, + and certainly not over-fed, we leave them to their play and their babies. + </p> + <p> + Here are a lot of half-naked boys, some standing, some sitting on the hot + pavement; they are playing "cherry hog"; why "hog" I don't know! Their + requisites are a pocketful of cherry stones and a small screw, not an + expensive outfit, for they save the "hogs" when they are permitted to eat + cherries, as sometimes, by the indulgence of a kindly fruiterer, they are, + for he kindly throws all his rotten or unsaleable fruit into the gutter. + </p> + <p> + If these are not to hand, there are plenty of "hogs" to be picked up. As + to the little screw, well, it is easy to get one or steal one. + </p> + <p> + The advantage of a screw is that it possesses a flat end, on which it will + stand erect. In this position it is delicately placed so that when struck + by a cherry "hog" it falls. Each boy in turn throws a certain number of + "hogs" at the screw, the successful thrower gathers in the spoil and goes + home with his pocket bursting with cherry "hogs." + </p> + <p> + It's an exciting game, but it is gambling nevertheless; why do not the + police interfere? + </p> + <p> + Here are some boys playing "buttons"—gambling again! This game is + good practice, too, and a capital introduction to that famous game of + youthful capitalists, "pitch and toss," for it is played in precisely the + same way, only that buttons take the place of half-pennies. + </p> + <p> + The road, gutter or pavement will do for "buttons"; a small mark or "jack" + is agreed upon, a line is drawn at a certain distance; alternately the + lads pitch their buttons towards the "jack," three buttons each. When all + have "pitched," the boy whose button is nearest the "jack" has first toss, + that is, he collects all the pitched buttons in his hand and tosses them; + as the buttons lie again on the ground the lads eagerly scan them, for the + buttons that lie with their convex side upwards are the spoil of the first + "tosser." The remaining buttons are collected by the second, who tosses, + and then collects his spoil, and so on till the buttons are all lost and + won. The boy whose buttons are farthest from "jack" of course gets the + last and least opportunity. When playing for halfpence, "heads or tails" + is the deciding factor. + </p> + <p> + Why, you say, of course it is a game of skill, just as much as bowls or + quoits; but there are also elements of luck about "pitch and toss" which + gives it an increased attraction. + </p> + <p> + Sunday in the underworld is the great day for "pitch and toss," for many + boys have halfpence on that day. They have been at work during the week, + and, having commenced work, their Sunday-school days are at an end. And + having a few halfpence they can indulge their long-continued and fervent + hope of discarding "buttons" and playing the man by using halfpence. + </p> + <p> + But how they enjoy it! how intent they are upon it. Sunday morning will + turn to midday, and midday to evening before they are tired of it! Meal + times, or the substitute for meal times, pass, and they remain at it! + always supposing their halfpence last, and the police do not interfere, + the latter being the most likely. + </p> + <p> + It takes an interminably long time to dispossess a lad of six halfpence at + this game; fortune is not so fickle as may be supposed. The unskilled + "pitcher" may have luck in "tossing," while the successful "pitcher" may + be an unlucky "tosser." If at the end of a long day they come off pretty + equal, they have had an ideal day. + </p> + <p> + But they have had their ups and downs, their alternations of joy and + despair. Sometimes a boy may win a penny; if so, it is evident that + another boy has lost one, and this is sad, though I expect they lose more + coppers to the police than they do to their companions, for the police + harry them and hunt them. Special constables are put on to detect them, + and they know the favourite resorts of the incipient gamblers. They hunt + in couples, too, and they enter the little unclean street at each end. + </p> + <p> + Now for the supreme excitement; they are observed by the watchful eye of a + non-player, who is copperless. There is a rush for the halfpence, some of + which the non-player secures. There's a scamper, but there is no escape; + the police bag them, and innocent boys who join in the scamper are bagged + too. The police search the ground for halfpence, find a few which they + carefully pack in paper, that they may retain some signs of dirt upon + them, for this will be invaluable legal evidence on the morrow. There is a + procession of police, prisoners and gleeful lads who are not in custody to + the nearest police-station. + </p> + <p> + On Monday they stand in the dock, when the police with the halfpence and + the dirt still upon them give evidence against them. + </p> + <p> + One worthy magistrate will ask them why they were not at home or school. + Another will sternly admonish them upon the evils of street gambling. A + third will tell them that it would have paid them better in health and + pocket to have taken a country walk. But all agree on one point, "that + this street gambling must be put down," and they "put it down," or attempt + to do so, by fining the young ragamuffins five shillings each. + </p> + <p> + The excitement of the cells then awaits them, to be followed by a free + ride in "Black Maria," unless "muvver" can pawn something and raise the + money, But many mothers cannot do this, others do not trouble; as to + "farver," well, he does not come in at all, unless it is to give a + "licking" to the boy when he comes out of prison for losing his job and + his wages. + </p> + <p> + Truly, the play of the underworld children is exciting enough: there is + danger attaching to it; perhaps that gives a piquancy to it. + </p> + <p> + The fascination of "pitch and toss" is felt not only all over England, + where it holds undisputed sway, for it has no real rival, but in America + too! Whilst in America last summer I explored the mean streets of New + York, and not far from the Bowery I found lots of lads at the game. It was + Sunday morning, too, and having some "nickels," I played several games + with them. I was but a poor pitcher, the coins were too light for me—perhaps + I could do better with solid English pennies—but what I lost in + pitching I gained in tossing, so I was not ruined, neither did the Bowery + lads sustain any loss. + </p> + <p> + But I found the procedure exactly the same as in England, and I felt the + fascination of it; and some day when I can afford it, I will have a lot of + metal counters made, and I will organise lads into a club; I will give + them "caps," and they shall play where the police won't interfere. + </p> + <p> + I will give them trophies to contend for, and Bethnal Green shall contend + with Holloway; a halfpenny "gate" would bring its thousands, and private + gain would give place to club and district "esprit de corps," for the lads + want the game, not the money; the excitement, not the halfpence. There is + nothing intrinsically wrong about "pitch and toss," only the fact that + ragamuffins play it. + </p> + <p> + There is a great deal of nonsense talked about the game by superior people + who pose as authorities upon the delinquencies of ragamuffin youth, and + who declaim upon the demoralisation attending this popular game of poor + lads. + </p> + <p> + I heard at a meeting of a rich Christian Church, held in a noble hall in + the heart of London's City, one gentleman declare that a smart ragamuffin + youth of his acquaintance possessed a penny with a "head" on each side for + the purpose of enabling him to cheat at this game. + </p> + <p> + He did not know what he was talking about, for such pennies would be as + useless for this game as the stones in the streets, for "heads and tails" + are the essence of the game. The boys of the underworld must play, and + ought to play; if those above them do not approve of their games, well, it + is "up to them," as the Americans have it, to find them better games than + pitch and toss, and better playing grounds than unclean streets. + </p> + <p> + Of public parks we have enough; they are very well for sedate and elderly + people. They are useful to foster-mothers, slave girls hugging babies + about, and a boon for nurses with perambulators. But what of Tom, Dick and + Harry, who have just commenced work; what of them? "Boy Scouting," even + with royal patronage, is not for them, for they have no money to buy + uniforms, nor time to scour Epping Forest and Hampstead Heath for a + non-existent enemy. + </p> + <p> + Church Lads' Brigade with bishops for patrons, did I hear some one say? + Well, blowing a bugle, no matter how discordantly, is certainly an + attraction for a boy; and wearing a military cap set jauntily on one side + of the head is attractive, too, while the dragging of a make-believe + cannon through the streets may perhaps please others. But Tom, Dick and + Harry from below care for none of these things, for they are + "make-believes," and Tom, Dick and Harry want something real, even if it + is vulgar, something with a strong competitive element in it, even if it + is a little bit rough or wicked. + </p> + <p> + Besides Tom, Dick and Harry are not over-clean in person, nor nice in + speech, so they are not wanted. Boy Scouts and Boys' Brigades are preached + at, but Tom, Dick and Harry do not want to be preached at by a parson, or + coddled by a curate. + </p> + <p> + They want something real, even though it be punching each other's head, + for that at any rate is real. Give us play, play, real play! is the cry + that is everlastingly rising from the underworld youth. But the overworld + gives them parks and gardens, which are closed at a respectable hour. But + the lads do not go to bed at respectable hours, for their mothers are + still at work and their fathers have not arrived home. So they play in the + streets; then we call them "hooligans," and of course they must be "put + down." + </p> + <p> + There is a good deal of "putting down" for the underworld, but it is all + of the wrong sort. For there is no putting down of public playgrounds for + lads of fifteen and upwards open in the evening, lighted by electricity, + and under proper control. Not one in the whole underworld. So they play in + the streets, or rather indulge in what is called "horse-play." + </p> + <p> + But there are youths' clubs! Yes, a few mostly in pokey places, yet they + are useful. But Tom, Dick and Harry want space, room and air, for they get + precious little of these valuable commodities at their work, and still + less in their homes. Watch them if you will, as I have watched them scores + of times in the streets, how foolish, yet how pitiable their conduct is; + you will see that they walk for about two hundred yards and then walk back + again, and then repeat the same walk, till the hours have passed; they + seem to be as circumscribed as caged animals. They walk within bounds up + and down the "monkey's parade." + </p> + <p> + How inane and silly their conversation is! Sometimes a whim comes upon + them, and one runs for a few yards; the whim takes possession of others, + and they do exactly the same. One seizes another round the body and + wrestles with him. Immediately the others begin to wrestle too; their + actions are stereotyped, silly and objectionable, even when they do not + quarrel. + </p> + <p> + They bump against the people, women included, especially young women. They + push respectable people into the gutters, and respectable people complain + to the police. An extra force is told off to keep order, and to put Tom, + Dick and Harry down. + </p> + <p> + Sunday night is the worst night of all! for now these youths are out in + their thousands; certain streets are given up to them, and become + impassable for others. Respectable folk are shocked, and church-going folk + are scandalised! Surely the streets are the property of respectable + people! and yet they cannot pass through them without annoyance. + </p> + <p> + At length the street is cleared and patrolled, for respectability must be + protected, not that there has been either violence or robbery. Oh dear, + no! There has only been foolish horse-play by the Toms, Dicks and Harrys + who, having nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do, having, moreover, + been joined by their female counterparts, have been enjoying themselves in + their own way, for they have been "at play." + </p> + <p> + It is astonishing how fond of water the unwashed children of the + underworld are! It has an attraction for them, often a fatal attraction, + even though it be thick with dirt and very malodorous. During the summer + time the boys' bathing lakes in Victoria Park are crowded and alive with + youngsters, who splash and flounder and choke, splutter and laugh in them. + They present a sight worth seeing, and teach a lesson worth remembering. + </p> + <p> + The canals of Hoxton, Haggerston and Islington, too, dirty and dangerous + as they are, prove seductive to the boys who live close to them. Now the + police have an anxious time. Again they must look after Tom, Dick and + Harry, for demure respectability must not be outraged by a sight of their + naked bodies. + </p> + <p> + So the police keep a sharp outlook for them. Some one kindly informs them + that a dozen boys are bathing in the canal near a certain bridge, and + quickly enough they find them in the very act. There the little savages + are! Some can swim, and some cannot; those that cannot are standing in the + slime near the side, stirring up its nastiness. They see the policeman + advancing, and those that can swim get ashore and run for their little + bits of clothing, tied up in a bundle ready for emergencies. Into the + water again they go for the other side! But, alas! another policeman is + waiting on the other side at the place where they expected to land, so + they must needs swim till another landing place offers security. But even + here they find that escape is hopeless, for yet another policeman awaits + them. + </p> + <p> + Those who cannot swim seize their bundles, and, without waiting to dress, + run naked and unashamed along the canal, side, to the merriment of the + bargees, and the joy of the women and girls who happen to have no son or + brother amongst them, for the underworld is not so easily shocked as the + law and its administrators imagine. + </p> + <p> + Ultimately they, too, find a policeman waiting for them, and a "good bag" + results. But the magistrate is very lenient; with a twinkle in his eye he + reproves them, and fines them one shilling each, which with great + difficulty their "muvvers" pay. + </p> + <p> + But it has been a good day for the police, for four of them have helped to + convey six shillings from the wretchedly poor to the coffers of the + police-court receiver. But when the school holidays come round, that is + the time for the dirty canal to tell its tale, and to give up its dead, + too! + </p> + <p> + Read this from the Daily Press, July 16th, 1911— + </p> + <p> + "A remarkable record in life-saving was disclosed at a Bethnal Green + inquest to-day on a child of six, named Browning, who was drowned in the + Regent's Canal on Bank Holiday. + </p> + <p> + "Henry H. Terry, an out-of-work carman, said he was called from his home + near by, and raced down to the canal. There was a youth on the bank + holding a stick over the water, apparently waiting for the child to come + up to the surface. + </p> + <p> + "The coroner: 'How old was the youth?' 'Well, he stood five feet six + inches, and might have gone in without getting out of his depth. I heard a + woman cry, "Why don't you go in!" I dived in five or six times, but did + not bring up the body.' The witness added that he and his brother had + saved many lives at this spot, the latter having effected as many as + twenty-five rescues in a year. Alfred Terry, a silk weaver, described the + point at which the child was drowned as a veritable death-trap, and + mentioned that he had been instrumental during the past twelve years in + saving considerably over one hundred lives at that spot. + </p> + <p> + "'One hot July afternoon in 1900,' he added,'my mother and I had five of + them in the kitchen at one time with a roaring fire to bring them round. + That was during the school holidays; they dropped in like flies.' + </p> + <p> + "Accidental death was the verdict." + </p> + <p> + But when the little ones play in the gutter, danger lurks very near, as + witness the extract of the same date— + </p> + <p> + "At an inquest at the Poplar coroner's court to-day, on a three-years'-old + girl named Bertiola, it was stated that while playing with other children + she was struck on the head with a tin engine. Three weeks later she was + playing with the same children, and one of them hit her on the head with + the wooden horse. + </p> + <p> + "The coroner: 'Two similar blows in a few days, that is very strange.' + </p> + <p> + "Dr. Packer said that death was due to cerebral meningitis, the result of + a blow on the head. + </p> + <p> + "The coroner: 'I suppose you can't tell which blow caused the trouble' + 'No, sir, I am afraid not.' + </p> + <p> + "The jury returned a verdict of accidental death." + </p> + <p> + But sometimes the boys and girls of the underworld collaborate in their + play, for just now (July) "Remember the grotto! please to remember the + grotto!" is a popular cry. Who has not seen the London grottos he who + knows them not, knows nothing of the London poor. + </p> + <p> + I was watching some girls play "hop-scotch" when a boy and girl with + oyster shells in their hands came up to me preferring the usual request, + "Please to remember the grotto!" Holding out their shells as they spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Where is your grotto?" I said. "There, sir, over there; come and see it." + Aye! there is was, sure enough, and a pretty little thing it was in its + way, built up to the wall in a quiet corner, glistening with its oyster + shells, its bits of coloured china and surmounted with a little flag. + </p> + <p> + "But where are the candles?" "Oh, sir, we haven't got any yet; we shall + get candles when we get some money, and light them to-night; we have only + just finished it." "Where did you get your shells?" "From the fish-shops." + "Where did you get the pretty bits of china from?" "We saved them from + last year." "Does grotto time come the same time every year, then" "Oh + yes, sir." "How is that?" "'Cos it's the time for it." "Why do you build + grottos" "To get money." "Yes, but why do people give you money; what do + grottos commemorate, don't you know?" "No, sir." + </p> + <p> + I looked at a poor half-paralysed boy with sharp face and said, "Well, my + boy, you ought to know; do you go to Sunday School?" "Yes, sir, both of + us; St. James the Less." "Well, I shall not tell you the whole story + to-day, but here is sixpence for you to buy candles with; and next Sunday + ask your teacher to tell you why boys and girls build grottos; I shall be + here this day week, and if you can tell me I will give you a shilling." + </p> + <p> + There were at least six grottos in that street when I got there on the + appointed day. A large crowd of children with oyster shells were waiting; + evidently the given sixpence and the promised shilling had created some + excitement in that corner of Bethnal Green. + </p> + <p> + They were soon all round me, and a general chorus arose with hands + outstretched, "Please to remember the grotto! please to remember the + grotto!" I called them to silence, and said, "Can any one tell me why you + build grottos?" There was a general chorus, "To get money, sir." That was + all they knew, and it seemed to them a sufficient reason. + </p> + <p> + Turning to the little cripple, I said, "Did you ask your teacher?" "Yes, + sir, but she said it was only children's play; but I bought some candles, + and they are lighted now." + </p> + <p> + I said, "Now, children, listen to me, for I am going to tell you about the + beginning of grottos. + </p> + <p> + "A good many hundred years ago, when Jesus was on earth, He had two + disciples named James; in after years one was called 'James the Greater' + and the other 'James the Less.' After the death of Jesus, James the + Greater was put to death, and the disciples were scattered, and wandered + into many far countries. James the Less wandered into Spain, telling the + people about Jesus. He lived a good and holy life, helping the poor and + the afflicted. + </p> + <p> + "When he died, the people who loved him and reverenced him made a great + funeral, and built him a costly tomb, but instead of putting up a monument + to him, they built a large and beautiful grotto over the place where his + body lay. They lined it with beautiful and costly shells and other rich + things, and lit it with many candles. + </p> + <p> + "Thousands of people came to see the grotto, and gave money to buy candles + that it might always be lighted. + </p> + <p> + "Every year, on the anniversary of St. James's death, the people came by + thousands to the grotto. One year it was said that a crippled man had been + made quite well while praying at the grotto. This event was told + everywhere, and from that day forth on St. James's Day people came from + many countries, many of them walking hundreds of miles to the grotto. + </p> + <p> + "Some of these people were ill and diseased, and others were sick and + blind, and some were cripples. + </p> + <p> + "It is said that a good many of them were cured of their afflictions. + </p> + <p> + "Now all these poor people that walked slowly and painfully to St. James's + tomb carried big oyster shells, in which they made holes for cords to pass + through, and they placed the cords round their necks. + </p> + <p> + "When they came near to people they would hold out their shells and say, + 'Please to remember the grotto!' And people gave them money to help them + on their way and to buy candles for the grotto, hoping that the poor + people would get there safely and come back cured. + </p> + <p> + "So it came to pass that whenever people saw a man with an oyster shell, + they knew he was going or returning from St. James's tomb in Spain, and + they helped him. The custom of building grottos on St. James's Day spread + to many countries besides Spain. In Russia they build very fine grottos. + At length the custom came to England, and you boys and girls do what other + boys and girls have done for many years in other countries, and in reality + you celebrate the death of a great and good man." + </p> + <p> + The children were very silent for a while; the cripple boy looked at me + with tears in his eyes, and I knew what his tears expressed. I gave him a + shilling, but he did not speak; to all the other children who had built + grottos I gave threepence each, and there was joy in that corner of + Bethnal Green. + </p> + <p> + There is always something pathetic about play in the underworld. We feel + that there is something wanting in it, perhaps that something would come + into it, if there were more opportunities of real and competitive play. + Keeping shops, or teaching schools may do for girls to play at, but a lad, + if he is any good, wants something more robust. + </p> + <p> + I often find cripple boys playing "tip-cat," another game upon which the + law has its eye, or hurrying along on crutches after something that serves + as a football, and getting there in time, too, for a puny kick. But that + kick, little as it is, thrills the poor chap, and he feels that he has + been playing. I am sure that football is going to play a great part in the + physical salvation of Tom, Dick and Harry, but they must have other places + than the streets in which to learn and practise the game. + </p> + <p> + We have heard a great deal about the playing-fields of public schools; we + are told that we owe our national safety to them; perhaps it is correct, + but I really do not know. But this I do know, that the non-provision of + playing-fields, or grounds for the male youthful poor, is a national + danger and a menace to activity, endurance, health and pluck. + </p> + <p> + Nothing saves them now but the freehold of the streets. Rob them of this + without giving them something better, and we shall speedily have a race of + flat-footed, flat-chested, round-shouldered poor, with no brains for + mental work, and no strength for physical work. A race exactly qualified + for the conditions to which we so freely submit it in prison. And above + those conditions that race will have no aspirations. So give them play, + glorious play, manly strife; let their hearts beat, and their chests + expand that they may breathe from their bottom lungs, that their limbs may + be supple and strong, for it will pay the nation to give Tom, Dick and + Harry healthy play. + </p> + <p> + And they long for it, do Tom, Dick and Harry! Did you ever see hundreds of + them on a Sunday morning coming up from their lairs in Hoxton, Shoreditch, + Spitalfields and Bethnal Green, to find a field or open space in the + suburbs where they might kick a football? I have seen it scores of times. + A miserable but hopeful sight it is; hopeful because it bears testimony to + the ingrained desire that English lads have for active healthy play. + Miserable because of their appearance, and because of the fact that no + matter what piece of open ground or fields they may select, they are + trespassers, and may be ejected, or remain on sufferance only. + </p> + <p> + Happy are they if they can find a piece of land marked for sale, where the + jerry-builder has not yet commenced a suburban slum. Like a swarm of + locusts they are down on it, and quickly every blade of grass disappears, + "kicked off" as if by magic. + </p> + <p> + Old walking-sticks, pieces of lath or old coats and waistcoats serve as + goal-posts. Touch-lines they have none, one playing-ground runs across the + other, and a dozen teams are soon hard at it. They have no caps to + distinguish them, no jerseys or knickers of bright hues. There are no + "flannelled fools" among them, but quickly there are plenty of "muddied + oafs." Trousers much too long are rolled up, coats and vests are dispensed + with, braces are loosed and serve as belts. There is running to and fro, + mud, and poor old footballs are kicked hither and thither. They knock, + kick and shoulder each other, their bare arms and faces are coated with + mud, they fall over the ball and over each other. If they cannot kick + their own ball, they kick one that belongs to another team. There is much + shouting, much laughter and some bad language! and so they go at it till + presently there is a great cheer, for Hoxton has got a second goal, and + Haggerston is defeated. And they keep at it for two long hours, if they + are not interfered with, then back to their lairs and food. + </p> + <p> + All this time good people have been in the churches close by, and the + shouting of the Hoxtonians has disturbed them, and the gentle whisper of + the Haggerstonians has annoyed them. Some of them are scandalised, and say + the police ought to stop such nuisances; perhaps they are right, for there + is much to be said against it. But there is something to be said on the + other side, too; for the natural instinct of English boys must have an + outlet or perish. If it perish they perish too, and then old England would + miss them. + </p> + <p> + So let them play, but give them playgrounds! For playgrounds will pay + better than nice, respectable parks. The outlay will be returned in due + time in a big interest promptly paid from the increased vitality, energy, + industry and honesty of our Toms, Dicks and Harrys. So let them play! + </p> + <p> + With much pleasure I quote from the Daily Press, November 24th, the + following— + </p> + <p> + "LEARNING TO PLAY "ORGANISED GAMES IN HYDE PARK IN SCHOOL HOURS + </p> + <p> + "It is good news that arrangements are being made by the Office of Works + for the use of a part of Hyde Park for organised games under the direction + of the London County Council. Hitherto the only royal parks in which space + has been allotted for this purpose are Regent's Park and Greenwich Park. + But the King, as is well known, takes a keen interest in all that concerns + the welfare of the children, and has gladly sanctioned the innovation. + </p> + <p> + "During the year an increasing number of the elementary schools in London + have taken advantage of the article in the code of regulations which + provides that, under certain conditions, organised games may, if conducted + under competent supervision and instruction, be played during school + hours. Up to the present the London County Council has authorised the + introduction of organised games by 580 departments, 295 boys', 225 girls', + and 60 mixed. + </p> + <p> + "The games chiefly played by boys are football, cricket and rounders, + according to the season. Girls enjoy a greater variety, and in addition to + cricket and rounders, are initiated into the mysteries of hockey, basket + ball, target ball, and other ball games. + </p> + <p> + "The advantages of the children being taught to get the best exercise out + of the games, and to become skilful in them, are obvious. + </p> + <p> + "Arrangements have been made with the various local athletic associations + and consultative committees whereby in each metropolitan borough there are + hon. district representatives (masters and mistresses) in connection with + organised games. Pitches are reserved in over thirty of the L.C.C. parks + and open spaces for the use of schools. The apparatus required is + generally stored at the playing-fields for the common use of all schools + attending, but small articles such as balls, bats, sticks are supplied to + each school. + </p> + <p> + "The Council has decided that, so far as practicable, the apparatus for + organised games shall be made at the Council's educational institutes, + and, as a result of this decision, much of it is fashioned at the + handicraft centres." + </p> + <p> + This is all for good. But I am concerned for adolescent youth that has + left school—the lads whose home conditions absolutely prevent the + evening hours being spent indoors. Is there to be no provision for them? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. ON THE VERGE OF THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + Charles Dickens has somewhere said, "The ties that bind the rich to their + homes may be made on earth, but the ties that bind the poor to their homes + are made of truer metal and bear the stamp of Heaven." And he adds that + the wealthy may love their home because of the gold, silver and costly + things therein, or because of the family history. But that when the poor + love their homes, it is because their household gods are gods of flesh and + blood. Dickens's testimony is surely true, for struggle, cares, sufferings + and anxieties make their poor homes, even though they be consecrated with + pure affection, "serious and solemn places." + </p> + <p> + To me it has always been evident that the heaviest part of the burden + inseparable from a poor man's home falls upon the wife. + </p> + <p> + Blessed is that home where the wife is equal to her duties, and doubly + blessed is the home where the husband, being a true helpmate, is anxious + to carry as much of the burden as possible. For then the home, even though + it be small and its floors brick, becomes in all truth "a sweetly solemn + place." It becomes a good training ground for men and women that are to + be. But I am afraid the working men do not sufficiently realise what + heavy, onerous and persistent duties fall upon the wife. With nerves of + brass they do not appreciate the fact that wives may be, and are, very + differently constituted to themselves. Many wives are lonely; but the + husbands do not always understand the gloomy imaginations that pervade the + lonely hours. The physical laws that govern women's personal health make + periods of depression and excitement not only possible, but certain. + </p> + <p> + Let us consider for a moment the life of a poor man's wife in London, + where her difficulties are increased by high rent and a long absence of + the husband. She has the four everlasting walls to look at, eternal + anxieties as to the future, the repeated weekly difficulties of making + ends meet, and too often the same lack of consideration from the husband. + </p> + <p> + The week's washing for the family she must do, the mending and darning for + the household is her task, the children must be washed and clothed and + properly cared for by her. Of her many duties there is no end. + </p> + <p> + Sickness in the family converts her into a nurse. She herself must bear + the pangs and sufferings of motherhood, and for that time must make + preparation. For death in the family she must also provide, so the + eternities are her concern. Things present and things to come leave her + little time to contemplate the past. + </p> + <p> + Ask me the person of many duties, and I point to the wife of a poor man. + </p> + <p> + Thank God, the law of compensation rules the universe, and she is not + exempt from its ruling. She has her compensations doubtless, but I am + seriously afraid not to the extent to which she is entitled, though, + perhaps, they are greater than we imagine. + </p> + <p> + Her duties are not always pleasant, for when her husband falls out of work + the rent must be paid, or she must mollify a disappointed landlord. In + many of our London "model" dwellings, if she is likely to have a fourth + child, three being the limit, she must seek a new home. And it ought to be + known that on this account there is a great exodus every year from some of + our London "dwellings." + </p> + <p> + It seems scarcely credible, but it is nevertheless a fact, that in some + dwellings she may not keep a cat, a dog, or even a bird, neither may she + have flowers in pots on her window-sills. She is hedged round with + prohibitions, but she is expected to be superior and to abide in staid + respectability on an income of less than thirty shillings per week. And + she does it, though how she does it is a marvel. + </p> + <p> + Come with me to visit Mrs. Jones, who lives at 28, White Elephant + Buildings. Mr. Jones is a painter at work for eight months in the year, if + he has good luck, but out of work always at that time of the year when + housekeeping expenses are highest. For every working man's wife will tell + you that coal is always dearer at the time of the year when it is most + required. In White Elephant Buildings there is no prohibition as to the + number of children, or the Jones family would not be there, for they + number eight all told. It is dinner time, and the children are all in from + school, and, being winter time, Jones is at home too! He has been his + wearying round in search of work earlier in the day, and has just returned + to share the midday meal which the mother serves. In all conscience the + meal is limited enough, but we notice that Jones gets an undue proportion, + and we wonder whether the supply will go round. + </p> + <p> + We see that the children are next served in their order, the elder + obtaining just a little more food than the younger, and, last of all—Mrs. + Jones. + </p> + <p> + It is true that self-denial brings its own reward, for in her case there + is little to reward her in the shape of food. + </p> + <p> + To me it is still astonishing, although I have known it for years, that + thousands of poor men's wives go through years of hard work, and frequent + times of motherhood on an amount of food that must be altogether + inadequate. + </p> + <p> + Brave women! Aye, brave indeed! for they not only deny themselves food, + but clothing, and all those little personal adornments that are so dear to + the heart of women. There is no heroism to equal it. It only ends when the + children have all passed out of hand, and then it is too late, for in her + case appetite has not been developed with eating, so that when the day + comes that food is more plentiful, the desire for it is lacking. + </p> + <p> + It is small wonder, then, that Mrs. Jones has a careworn look, and does + not look robust. She has been married twelve years, so that every second + year she has borne a child. The dark rings beneath her eyes tell of + protracted hours of work, and the sewing-machine underneath the window + tells us that she supplements the earnings of her husband by making old + clothes into new, and selling them to her neighbours, either for their + children's wear or their own. This accounts for the fact that her own + children are so comfortably clothed. The dinner that we have seen + disappear cost ninepence, for late last evening, just before the cheap + butchers close by shut up for the night, Mrs. Jones bought one pound and a + half of pieces, and, with the aid of two onions and some potatoes, + converted them into a nourishing stew. + </p> + <p> + Many times near midnight I have stood outside the cheap butchers' and + watched careful women make their purchases. It is a pitiful sight, and + when one by one the women have made their bargains, we notice that the + shopboard is depleted of its heap of scrags and odds and ends. + </p> + <p> + So day by day Mrs. Jones feeds her family, limiting her expenditure to her + purse. And, truth to tell, Jones and the little Joneses look well on it. + But two things in addition to the rent test her managing powers. Boots for + the children! and coal for the winter! The latter difficulty she gets over + by paying one shilling per week into a coal club all the year through. + When Jones is in work she buys extra coal, but when the winter comes she + draws upon her reserves at the coal merchant's. + </p> + <p> + But the boots are more difficult. To his credit let it be said that Jones + mends the family's boots. That is, he can "sole and heel," though he + cannot put on a patch or mend the uppers. But with everlasting thought for + the future, Mrs. Jones makes certain of boots for the family. Again a + "club" is requisitioned, and by dint of rigid management two shillings + weekly pass into a shoemaker's hands, and in their turn the family gets + boots; the husband first, the children one by one, herself last—or + never! + </p> + <p> + Week by week she lives with no respite from anxiety, with no surcease from + toil. By and by the eldest boy is ready for work, and Mrs. Jones looks + forward to the few shillings he will bring home weekly, and builds great + things upon it. Alas! it is not all profit; the boy must have a new suit, + he requires more food, and he must have a little spending money, "like + other boys"; and though he is a good lad, she finds ultimately that there + is not much left of Tom's six shillings. + </p> + <p> + Never mind! on she goes, for will he not get a rise soon and again + expectation encourages her. + </p> + <p> + So the poor woman, hampered as she is with present cares, looks forward to + the time when life will be a bit easier, when the united earnings of the + children will make a substantial family income. Oh, brave woman! it is + well for her to live in hope, and every one who knows her hopes too that + disappointment will not await her, and that her many children will "turn + out well." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jones is typical of thousands of working men's wives, and such women + demand our admiration and respect. What matter though some of them are a + bit frowsy and not over-clean? they have precious little time to attend to + their personal adornment. I ask, who can fulfil all their duties and + remain "spick-and-span"? + </p> + <p> + "Nagging," did I hear some one say? My friend, put yourself in her place, + and imagine whether you would remain all sweetness and courtesy. Again I + say, that I cannot for the life of me understand how she can bear it all, + suffering as she does, and yet remain so patient and so hopeful. + </p> + <p> + Add to the duties I have enumerated the time when sickness and death enter + the home. Mrs. Grundy has declared that even poor people must put on + "mourning," and must bury their dead with excessive expenditure, and Mrs. + Grundy must be obeyed. + </p> + <p> + But what struggles poor wives make to do it! but a "nice" funeral is a + fascinating sight to the poor. So thousands of poor men's wives deny + themselves many comforts, and often necessaries, that they may for certain + have a few pounds, should any of their children die. Religiously they pay + a penny or twopence a week for each of their children to some industrial + insurance company for this purpose. + </p> + <p> + A few pounds all at once loom so large that they forget all the toil, + stress and self-denial they have undergone to keep those pence regularly + paid. Decent "mourning" and "nice funerals" are greatly admired, for if a + working man's wife accepts parish aid at such time, why then she has + fallen low indeed. + </p> + <p> + And for the time when a new life comes into light, the poor man's wife + must make provision. At this time anxiety is piled upon anxiety. There + must be no parish doctor, no parish nurse; out of her insufficient income + she makes weekly payments to a local dispensary that during sickness the + whole household may be kept free of doctor's bills. An increased payment + for herself secures her, when her time comes, from similar worry. But the + nurse must be paid, so during the time of her "trouble" the poor woman + screws, schemes and saves a little money; money that ought in all truth to + have been spent upon herself, that a weekly nurse may attend her. But + every child is dearer than the last, and the wonderful love she has for + every atom of humanity born to her repays all her sufferings and + self-denial. + </p> + <p> + So I ask for the poor man's wife not only admiration and consideration, + but, if you will, some degree of pity also. I would we could make her + burdens easier, her sorrows less, and her pleasures more numerous. Most + devoutly I hope that the time may soon arrive when "rent day" will be less + dreaded, and when the collector will be satisfied with a less proportion + of the family's earnings. For this is a great strain upon the poor man's + wife, a strain that is never absent! for through times of poverty and + sickness, child birth and child death, persistently and inexorably that + day comes round. Undergoing constant sufferings and ceaseless anxieties, + it stands to the poor man's wife's credit that their children fight our + battles, people our colonies, uphold the credit of our nation, and + perpetuate the greatness of the greatest empire the world has ever known. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Jones' eldest girl has a hard time too! for she acts as nurse and + foster-mother to the younger children. It was well for her that Tom was + born before her or she would have nursed him. Perhaps it was well for Tom + also that he got the most nourishment. As it is the girl has her hands + full, and her time is more than fully occupied. She goes to school + regularly both Sunday and week-day. She passes all her standards, although + she is not brilliant. She washes the younger children, she nurses the + inevitable baby, she clears the "dinner things" away at midday, and the + breakfast and tea-cups in their turn. She sits down to the machine + sometimes and sews the clothing her mother has cut out and "basted." She + is still a child, but a woman before her time, and Mrs. Jones and all the + young Joneses will miss her when she goes "out." + </p> + <p> + When that time comes, Mrs. Jones will not be so badly put to it as she was + when Tom went "out." For she has been paying regularly into a draper's + club, and with the proceeds a quantity of clothing material will be + bought. So Sally's clothing will be made at home, and Sally and her mother + will sit up late at night to make it. + </p> + <p> + It is astonishing how "clubs" of all descriptions enter into the lives of + the poor. There is, of course, the "goose club" for Christmas, for the + poor make sure of one good meal during the year. Some of them are + extravagant enough to join "holiday clubs," but this Mrs. Jones cannot + afford, so her clubs are limited to her family's necessities, excepting + the money club held at a neighbour's house into which she pays one + shilling weekly. This club consists of twenty members, who "draw" for + choice. Thus once in twenty weeks, sooner or later, Mrs. Jones is passing + rich, for she is in possession of twenty shillings all at once. + </p> + <p> + There is some discussion between Sally and her mother as to the spending + of it; Tom's first suit was bought by this means, and Jones himself is not + forgotten; but for Mrs. Jones no thought is given. + </p> + <p> + The planning, scheming and contrivance it takes to run a working man's + home, especially when the husband has irregular work, is almost past + conception, and the amount of self-denial is extraordinary. + </p> + <p> + But it is the wife who finds the brains and exercises the self-denial. Her + methods may be laughed at by wiser people, for there is some wastage. The + friendly club-keeper must have a profit, and the possession of wealth + represented by a whole sovereign costs something. But when Mrs. Jones gets + an early "draw," she exchanges her "draw" for a later one, and makes some + little profit. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the scheming and excitement of it all, for even Mrs. Jones cannot do + without her little "deal." But what will Sally settle down to? Now comes + the difficulty and deciding point in her life, and a critical time it is. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jones has not attended a mother's meeting, she has been too busy; + church has not seen much of her except at the christenings; district + visitors and clergymen have not shown much interest in her; Jones himself + is almost indifferent, and quite complacent. + </p> + <p> + So Sally and her mother discuss the matter. The four shillings weekly to + be obtained in a neighbouring factory are tempting, but the girls are + noisy and rude; yet Sally will be at home in the evenings and have time to + help her mother, and that is tempting too! A neighbouring blouse-maker + takes girls to teach them the trade, and Sally can machine already, so she + will soon pick up the business; that looks nice too, but she would earn + nothing for the first three months, so that is ruled out. Domestic service + is thought of, but Sally is small for her age, and only fourteen; she does + not want to be a nurse girl; she has had enough nursing—she has been + a drudge long enough. + </p> + <p> + So to the factory she goes, though Mrs. Jones has her misgivings, and + gives her strong injunctions to come straight home, which of course Sally + readily promises, though whether that promise will be strictly kept is + uncertain. But her four shillings are useful in the family exchequer; they + are the deciding factor in Sally's life! + </p> + <p> + So on through all the succeeding years of the developing family life comes + the recurring anxiety of getting her children "out." These anxieties may + be considered very small, but they are as real, as important, and as grave + as the anxieties that well-to-do people experience in choosing callings or + professions for sons and daughters to whom they cannot leave a competency. + </p> + <p> + And all this time the family are near, so very near to the underworld. The + death of Jones, half-timer as he is, would plunge them into it; and the + breakdown or death of Mrs. Jones would plunge them deeper still. + </p> + <p> + What an exciting and anxious life it really is! Small wonder that many + descend to the underworld when accident overtakes them. But for character, + grit, patience and self-denial commend me to such women. All honour to + them! may their boys do well! may their girls in days to come have less + anxieties and duties than fall to the lot of working men's wives of + to-day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. IN PRISONS OFT + </h2> + <p> + If every chapter in this book is ignored, I hope that this one will be + read thoughtfully. For I want to show that a great national wrong, a + stupidly cruel wrong, exists. + </p> + <p> + Probably all injustice is stupid, but this wrong is so foolish, that any + man who thinks for one moment upon it will wonder how it came into + existence. + </p> + <p> + I have written and spoken about it so often that I am almost ashamed of + returning to the subject. Yet all our penal authorities, from the Home + Secretary downwards, know all there is to be known about it. + </p> + <p> + I am going, then, to reiterate a serious charge! It is this: no boy from + eight years of age up to sixteen, unless sound in mind and body, can find + entrance into any reformatory or industrial school! No matter how often he + falls into the hands of the police, or what charges may be brought against + him, not even if he is friendless and homeless. Again, no youthful + prisoner under twenty-one years of age, no matter how bad his record, is + allowed the benefit of Borstal training unless he, too, be sound in mind + and body. This is not only an enormity, but it is also a great absurdity; + for it ultimately fills our prisons with weaklings, and assures the nation + a continuous prison population. + </p> + <p> + It seems very extraordinary that prison and prison alone should be + considered the one and only place suitable for the afflicted children of + the poor when they break any law, but so it is. + </p> + <p> + The moral hump is tolerated, even patronised in reformative institutions, + but the physical hump, never! + </p> + <p> + Cunning, dishonesty and rascality generally may be tolerated, but + feebleness of mind or infirmity of body never! All through our penal + administration and prison discipline this principle prevails, and is + strictly acted upon. + </p> + <p> + Let me put it briefly; prison, and prison only, is the one and only place + for afflicted youth when it happens to break one or the other of our laws. + </p> + <p> + We have numerous institutions, half penal and half educative, that exist + absolutely for the purpose of receiving homeless, wayward or criminally + inclined youthful delinquents. + </p> + <p> + These institutions, I say, although kept going from public funds, refuse, + absolutely refuse, to give training to any youthful delinquent who suffers + from physical infirmity or mental weakness. + </p> + <p> + Think of it again! all youthful delinquents suffering from any infirmity + of body or mind, are refused reformative treatment or training in all + publicly supported institutions established for delinquent youth. + </p> + <p> + He may be a thief, but if he is a hunchback they will have none of him. He + may be a danger to other children, if he has fits he will not be received. + He may rob the tills of small shopkeepers, but if he is lame, half-blind, + has heart disease, or if his brain is not sound and his body strong, if he + has lost a hand, got a wooden leg, if he suffers from any disease or + deprivation, prison, and prison only, is the place for him. So to prison + the afflicted one goes if over fourteen; if under fourteen back to his + home, to graduate in due time for prison. + </p> + <p> + This is no exaggeration, it is a true picture, and this procedure has gone + on till our prisons have become filled with broken and hopeless humanity. + </p> + <p> + Could any one ever suggest a more disastrous course than this? Why, + decency, pity, or just a grain of common sense ought to teach us, and + would teach us if we thought for a moment, that it is not only wrong but + supremely foolish. + </p> + <p> + For there is a very close connection between neglected infirmity, mental + or physical, and crime, a connection that ought to be considered, and few + questions demand more instant attention. Yet no question is more + persistently avoided and shelved by responsible authorities, for no means + of dealing with the defective in mind or body when they commit offences + against the law, other than by short terms of useless imprisonment, have + at present been attempted or suggested. It seems strange that in + Christianised, scientised England such procedure should continue even for + a day, but continue it does, and to-day it seems as little likely to be + altered as it was twenty years ago. Let me then charge it upon our + authorities that they are responsible for perpetuating this great and + cruel wrong. They are not in ignorance, for the highest authorities know + perfectly well that every year many hundreds of helpless and hopeless + degenerates or defectives are committed to prison and tabulated as + habitual criminals. Our authorities even keep a list on which is placed + the names of these unfortunates who, after prolonged experience and + careful medical examinations, are found to be "unfit for prison + discipline." + </p> + <p> + This list is of portentous length, and to it four hundred more names are + added every year. This is of itself an acknowledgment by the State that + every year four hundred unfortunate human beings who cannot appreciate the + nature and quality of the acts they have committed, are treated, punished + and graded as criminals. Now the State knows perfectly well that these + unfortunates need pity, not punishment; the doctor, not the warder; and + some place where mild, sensible treatment and permanent restraint can take + the place of continual rounds of short imprisonment alternated with + equally senseless short spells of freedom. + </p> + <p> + No! not freedom, but a choice between starvation, prison or workhouse. Now + this list grows, and will continue to grow just so long as the present + disastrous methods are persisted in! + </p> + <p> + Why does this list grow? Because magistrates have no power to order the + detention of afflicted youthful offenders in any place other than prison; + they cannot commit to reformatory schools only on sufferance and with the + approval of the school managers, who demand healthy boys. + </p> + <p> + So ultimately to prison the weaklings go, and an interminable round of + small sentences begins. But even in prison they are again punished because + of their afflictions, for only the sound in mind and body are given the + benefit of healthy life and sensible training. + </p> + <p> + Consequently in prison they learn little that can be of service to them; + they only graduate in idleness, and prison having comforts but no terrors, + they quickly join the ranks of the habitues. When it is too late they are + "listed" as not suitable for prison treatment. Year by year in a country + of presumably sane people this deplorable condition of things continues, + and I am bold enough to say that there will be no reduction in the number + of our prison population till proper treatment, training, and, if need be, + detention, is provided in places other than prison for our afflicted + youthful population when they become offenders against the law. + </p> + <p> + But reformatory and industrial schools have not only power to refuse + youthful delinquents who are unsound in mind or body; they have also the + power to discharge as "unfit for training" any who have managed to pass + the doctor's examination, whose defects become apparent when under + detention. + </p> + <p> + From the last Official Report of Reformatory Schools in England and Wales + I take the following figures— + </p> + <p> + During the years 1906-7-8 14 imbeciles (males) were discharged on licence + from reformatory schools; and during the same three years no less than 93 + (males) were discharged by the Home Secretary's permission as "unfit for + physical training." The 14 imbeciles in the Official Report are classified + as dead, and the 93 physically unfit are included among them "not in + regular employment." + </p> + <p> + For the same period of years I find that 28 (girls) were discharged from + English reformatory schools as being physically unfit. + </p> + <p> + The Official Report of Industrial Schools includes England, Wales and + Scotland, and for the same three years I find that 13 (males) were + discharged from industrial schools as being imbeciles, and 116 (males) as + being "unfit for physical training." + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, in the Annual Report the physically unfit are included + among those "in casual employment," and the imbeciles are included among + the "dead." + </p> + <p> + From the same Official Report we have the statement that in one year, + 1909, in England and Scotland 991 (males) and 20 (females) who had been + discharged from reformatory schools were re-convicted and committed to + prison. + </p> + <p> + How many of them were mentally or physically defective we have no means of + knowing, for no information is given upon this point; but there is not the + slightest doubt that a large number of them were weak-minded, though not + sufficiently so to allow them being classified as imbeciles. + </p> + <p> + The terrible consequence of this procedure may also be gathered from the + Report of the Prison Commissioners for England and Wales 1910, from which + it appears that during the year 157 persons were certified insane among + the prisoners in the local and convict prisons, Borstal institutions and + of State reformatories, during the year ending March 31, 1910. + </p> + <p> + In addition to the above there were 290 (213 males and 77 females) cases + of insanity in remanded and other unconvicted prisoners dealt with during + the year, including 14 males and 2 females found "insane on arraignment," + and 173 males and 65 females found insane on remand from police or petty + sessional courts. There were 30 (20 males and 10 females) prisoners found + "guilty" but "insane" at their trial. + </p> + <p> + But the most illuminating report comes from the medical officer at + Parkhurst Convict Prison; these are his words— + </p> + <p> + Weak-minded convicts and others whose mental state is doubtful continue to + be collected here. The special rules for their management are adhered to. + The number classified as weak-minded at the end of the year was 117, but + in addition there were 34 convicts attached to the parties of weak-minded + for further mental observation. + </p> + <p> + "The conduct and tractability of these prisoners naturally vary with the + individual; a careful consideration of the history of each of the 117 + classified weak-minded convicts indicates that about 64 are fairly easily + managed, the remainder difficult to deal with, and a few are dangerous + characters. + </p> + <p> + CLASSIFICATION OF WEAK-MINDED CONVICTS:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (a) Congenital deficiency:- + 1. With epilepsy . . . . . . 9 + 2. Without epilepsy. . . . . . 46 + (b) Imperfectly developed stage of insanity 18 + (c) Mental debility after attack of insanity 8 + (d) Senility . . . . . . 2 + (e) Alcohol . . . . . . 6 + (f) Undefined . . . . . . 28 + ——- + 117 + ===== +</pre> + <p> + "The following is a list of the crimes of the classified weak-minded for + which they are undergoing their present sentences of penal servitude, and + the number convicted for each type of crime— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + False pretences . . . . . . . 3 + Receiving stolen property . . . . . 3 + Larceny . . . . . . . 18 + Burglary . . . . . . . 7 + Shop-breaking, house-breaking, etc. . . . 19 + Uttering counterfeit coins . . . . . 1 + Threatening letters . . . . . . 4 + Threatening violence to superior officer. . 1 + Robbery with violence . . . . . . 3 + Manslaughter . . . . . . . 6 + Wounding with intent. . . . . . . 8 + Grievous bodily harm. . . . . . . 2 + Attempted murder . . . . . . . 1 + Wilful murder . . . . . . . . 7 + Rape . . . . . . . . . 5 + Carnal knowledge of little girls. . . . 8 + Arson . . . . . . . . . 15 + Cattle maiming . . . . . . . . 1 + Placing obstruction on railway . . . . 2 + Unnatural offences . . . . . . . 3 +</pre> + <p> + "During the year 35 convicts were certified insane; of these 27 were + removed to the criminal asylum at Parkhurst, 2 to Broadmoor asylum, 3 to + county or borough asylums, and 3 remained in the prison infirmary at the + end of the year. + </p> + <p> + "The average length of the last sentences for which these unfortunates + were committed was seven years' penal servitude each. That their mental + condition was not temporary but permanent may be gathered from their + educational attainments, for 12 had no education at all, 18 were only in + Standard I, 29 in Standard II, 15 in Standard III, and 12 others were of + poor education." + </p> + <p> + The statement that the average length of the last sentences of these + unfortunates was seven years' penal servitude is appalling. It ought to + astound us! But no one seems to care. Penal servitude is good enough for + them. Perhaps it is! But it ought to be called by another name, and + legally signify the inmates to be "patients," not criminals. Let us visit + a prison where we shall find a sufficient number of prisoners to enable us + to form an idea as to their physical and mental condition. + </p> + <p> + Come, then, on Sunday morning into a famous prison that long stood as a + model to the world. We are going to morning service, when we shall have an + opportunity of seeing face to face eight hundred male prisoners. But + before we enter the chapel, let us walk round the hospital and see those + who are on the sick list. + </p> + <p> + One look as we enter the ward convinced us that some are lying there whose + only chance of freedom is through the gates of death. + </p> + <p> + In yonder corner lies a young man of twenty-one years; the governor tells + us that he is friendless, homeless, and a hopeless consumptive. He says, + "We would have sent him out, but he has nowhere to go, for he does not + know his parish, so he must lie here till he dies, unless his sentence + expires first." + </p> + <p> + We speak to the young man a few kindly words, but he turns his face from + us, and of his history we learn nothing. + </p> + <p> + On another bed we find an old man whose days also will be short; of his + history we learn much, for he has spent a great deal of his life in + prison, and now, aged, feeble and broken, there is nothing before him but + death or continued imprisonment. We pass by other beds on which prisoners + not so hopeless in health are lying. We see what is the matter with most + of them: they are not strong enough for ordinary prison work, or indeed + for any kind of vigorous labour. So they remain in prison well tended in + the hospital. But some of them pass into freedom without the slightest + ability or chance of getting a living otherwise than by begging or + stealing. + </p> + <p> + What strikes us most about the inmates of the prison hospital is the + certainty that many of the prisoners have not sufficient health and + strength to enable them to be useful citizens. + </p> + <p> + So we pass through the hospital into the chapel, and find eight hundred + prisoners before us. The organ plays, the morning service is read by the + chaplain; the prisoners sing, and as they sing there is such a volume of + sound that we cannot fail to be touched with it. + </p> + <p> + We enter the pulpit, and as we stand and look down upon that sea of + upturned faces, we see a sight that is not likely to be forgotten. There, + in front of us, right underneath the pulpit, are rows of young men under + twenty-two years of age; we look at them; they are all clad in khaki, and + we take a mental sketch of them. + </p> + <p> + One or two among them are finely developed young men, but the great bulk + we see are small in stature and weak in body. Some of them have a hopeless + expression of countenance that tells us of moral and mental weakness. + </p> + <p> + We note that most of them can have had but little chance in life, and that + their physical or mental infirmities come from no fault of their own. They + have all been to school; they have started in life, if it can be called + starting, as errand boys, paper sellers in the streets, or as street + merchants of some description. They have grown into early manhood, but + they have not increased in wisdom or stature. They have learned no + occupation, trade or handicraft; they have passed from school age to early + manhood without discipline, decent homes or technical training. + </p> + <p> + When at liberty their homes are lodging-houses or even less desirable + places. So they pass from the streets to the police, from police-courts to + prison, with positive regularity. + </p> + <p> + They behave themselves in prison, they obey orders, they do the bit of + work that is required of them, they eat the food, and they sleep + interminable hours away. + </p> + <p> + At the back of the young men we see row after row of older men, and their + khaki clothing and broad arrows produce a strange impression upon us; but + what impresses us most is the facial and physical appearance of the + prisoners. + </p> + <p> + Cripples are there, twisted bodies are there, one-armed men are there, and + blind men are there. Here and there we see a healthy man, with vigour and + strength written on his face; but the great mass of faces strikes us with + dismay, and we feel at once that most of them are handicapped In life, and + demand pity rather than vengeance. + </p> + <p> + We know that they are not as other men, and we realise that their + afflictions more than their sins are responsible for their presence in + that doleful assembly. + </p> + <p> + Yet some of them are clever in crime, and many of them persistent in + wrong-doing, but their afflictions were neglected in days when those + afflictions should have been a passport to the pity and care of the + community. + </p> + <p> + We see men who have grown old in different prisons, and we know that + position in social and industrial life is impossible for them. + </p> + <p> + We see a number whom it is evident are not mentally responsible, for whom + there is no place but the workhouse or prison; yet we realise that, old as + they are, the day of liberty must come once more, and they will be free to + starve or steal! + </p> + <p> + We know that there are some epileptics among them, and that their dread + complaint has caused them to commit acts of violence. + </p> + <p> + We see among them men of education that have made war upon society. + Drunkards, too, are there, and we know that their overmastering passion + will demand gratification when once again the opportunity of indulging in + its presented to them. So we look at this strange mass of humanity, and as + we look a mist comes over our eyes, and we feel a choking sensation in our + throats. + </p> + <p> + But we look again, and see that few throughout this great assembly show + any sense of sorrow or shame. As we speak to them of hope, gladness, of + manliness, and of the dignity of life, we feel that we are preaching to an + east wind. Come round the same prison with me on a week-day; in one part + we find a number of men seated about six feet from each other making + baskets; warders are placed on pedestals here and there to keep oversight. + </p> + <p> + We walk past them, and notice their slow movements and see hopelessness + written all over them. They are working "in association," they are under + "observation," which, the governor tells us, means that they are suspected + of either madness or mental deficiency. + </p> + <p> + As we look at them we are quite satisfied that this suspicion is true, and + that, if not absolutely mad, they are mentally deficient. + </p> + <p> + If absolute madness be detected, they will be sent to asylums. If + feeble-mindedness be proved, they will again be set at liberty. Their + names will be placed on a list, and they will be declared "unfit for + prison discipline," but nothing more will be done. They will be discharged + to prowl about in the underworld, to commit other criminal acts and to be + returned again and again to prison, to live out hopeless lives. + </p> + <p> + And there is another cause, almost as prolific in producing a prison + population. For while the State has been, and still is, ready to thrust + afflicted youth into prison, it has been, and still is, equally ready to + thrust into prison the half-educated, half-fed, and half-employed young + people who break its laws or by-laws. It is true that the State in its + irony allows them the option of a fine; but the law might as well ask the + youths of the underworld to pay ten pounds as ask them to pay ten + shillings; nor can they procure all at once the smaller sum, so to prison + hundreds of lads are sent. + </p> + <p> + Does it ever occur to our esteemed authorities that this is a most + dangerous procedure! What good can possibly come either to the State or to + the youthful offender? + </p> + <p> + What are the offences of these boys? Disorder in the streets, loitering at + railway stations, playing a game of chance called "pitch and toss," of + which I have something to say in another chapter, gambling with a penny + pack of cards, playing tip-cat, kicking a football, made of old newspapers + maybe, playing cricket, throwing stones, using a catapult, bathing in a + canal, and a hundred similar things are all deemed worthy of imprisonment, + if committed by the youngsters of the world below the line. + </p> + <p> + Thousands of lads have had their first experience of prison for trumpery + offences that are natural to the boys of the poor. But a first experience + of prison is to them a pleasant surprise. They are astonished to find that + prison is not "half a bad place." They do not object to going there again, + not they! Why? Because the conditions of prison life are better, as they + need to be, than the conditions of their own homes. The food is better, + the lodging is better, the bed is decidedly better, and as to the work, + why, they have none worthy of the name to do. They lose nothing but their + liberty, and they can stand that for a week or two, what matters! + </p> + <p> + Well, something does matter, for they lose three other things of great + moment to them if they only knew; but they don't know, and our authorities + evidently consider these three things of no moment. What do they lose? + First, their fear of prison; secondly, their little bit of character; + thirdly, their work, if they have any. What eventuates? Idleness, + hooliganism and repeated imprisonments for petty crime, until something + more serious happens, and then longer sentences. Such is the progress of + hundreds whom statisticians love to call "recidivists." + </p> + <p> + Am I wrong when I say that the State has been too ready, too prompt in + sending the youths of the ignorant poor to prison? Am I wrong in saying + that the State has been playing its "trump ace" too soon, and that it + ought to have kept imprisonment up its sleeve a little longer? These lads, + having been in prison, know, and their companions know, too, the worst + that can happen to them when they commit real crime. Prison has done its + worst, and it cannot hurt them. + </p> + <p> + If prisons there must be, am I wrong in contending that they should be + reserved for the perpetrators of real and serious crime; and that the + punishment, if there is to be punishment, should be certain, dignified and + severe, educational and reformative? At present it includes none of these + qualities. + </p> + <p> + To such a length has the imprisonment of youths for trumpery offences + gone, not only in London, but throughout the country, that visiting + justices of my acquaintance have spent a great deal of money in part + paying the fines of youths imprisoned under such conditions, that they + might be released at once. Here we have a curious state of affairs, + magistrates generally committing youths to prison in default for trumpery + offences, and other magistrates searching prisons for imprisoned youths, + paying their fines, setting them free, and sending on full details to the + Home Secretary. + </p> + <p> + It would be interesting to know how many "cases" of this kind have been + reported to the Home Secretary during the last few years. Time after time + the governors of our prisons have called attention to this evil in their + annual reports. They know perfectly well the disaster that attends the + needless imprisonment of boys, and it worries them. They treat the boys + very kindly, all honour to them! But even kindness to young prisoners has + its dangers, and every governor is able to tell of the constant return of + youthful prisoners. + </p> + <p> + I do not like the "birch" or corporal punishment at all. I do not advocate + it, but I am certain that the demoralising effect of a few' days' + imprisonment is far in excess of the demoralisation that follows a + reasonable application of the birch. + </p> + <p> + But the birch cannot be applied to lads over fourteen years of age, so it + would be well to abolish it altogether, except in special cases, and for + these the age might with advantage be extended. And, after all, + imprisonment itself is physical punishment and a continued assault upon + the body. But why imprison at all for such cases? We talk about + imprisonment for debt; this is imprisonment for debt with a vengeance. + Look! two lads are charged with one offence or two similar offences; one + boy is from the upperworld, the other from below the line. The same + magistrate fines the two boys an equal amount; the one boy pays, or his + friends pay; but the other goes of a certainty to prison. Is it not + absurd! rather, is it not unjust? + </p> + <p> + But whether it is absurd or unjust the result is certain—mathematically + certain—in the development of a prison population. + </p> + <p> + During my police-court days I have seen hundreds of youths sitting crying + in their cells consumed with fear, waiting their first experience of + prison; I have seen their terror when first entering the prison van, and I + know that when entering the prison portals their terror increased. But it + soon vanished, for I have never seen boys cry, or show any signs of fear + when going to prison for the second time. The reason for this I have + already given: "fear of the unknown" has been removed. This fear may not + be a very noble characteristic, but it is part of us, and it has a useful + place, especially where penalties are likely to be incurred. + </p> + <p> + For many years I have been protesting against this needless imprisonment + of youths, and now it has become part of my duty to visit prisons and to + talk to youthful prisoners, I see the wholesale evil that attends this + method of dealing with youthful offenders. And the same evils attend, + though to perhaps a less degree, the prompt imprisonment of adults, who + are unable to pay forthwith fines that have been imposed upon them. + </p> + <p> + It is always the poor, the very poor, the people below the line that + suffer in this direction. Doubtless they merit some correction, and the + magistrates consider that fines of ten shillings are appropriate, but then + they thoughtlessly add "or seven days." + </p> + <p> + Think of the folly of it! because a man cannot pay a few shillings down, + the State conveys him to prison and puts the community to the very + considerable expense of keeping him. The law has fined him, but he cannot + pay then, so the law turns round and fines the community. + </p> + <p> + What sense, decency, or profit can there possibly be in committing women + to prison, even for drunkenness, for three, five or seven days? How can it + profit either the State or the woman? It only serves to familiarise her + with prison. + </p> + <p> + I could laugh at it, were it not so serious. Just look at this absurdity! + A woman gets drunk on Thursday, she is charged on Friday. "Five shillings, + or three days!" On Friday afternoon she enters prison, for the clerk has + made out a "commitment," and the gaoler has handed her into the prison + van. Her "commitment" is handed to the prison authorities; it is + tabulated, so is she; but at nine o'clock next morning she is discharged + from prison, for the law reckons every part of a day to be a complete day; + and the law also says that there must be no discharge from prison on a + Sunday, and to keep her till Monday would be illegal, for it would be + "four days." How small, how disastrous, and how expensive it is! + </p> + <p> + If offenders, young or old, must be punished, let them be punished + decently. If they ought to be sent to prison, to prison send them. But if + their petty offences can be expunged by the payment of a few shillings, + why not give them a little time to pay those fines? Such a course would + stop for ever the miserable, deadly round of short expensive + imprisonments. I have approached succeeding Home Secretaries upon this + matter till I am tired; succeeding Home Secretaries have sent memorandums + and recommendations to courts of summary jurisdiction till, I expect, they + are tired, for generally they have had no effect in mitigating the evil. + </p> + <p> + Magistrates have the power to grant time for the payment of fines, but it + is optional, not imperative. It is high time for a change, and surely it + will come, for the absurdity cannot continue. + </p> + <p> + Surely every English man and woman who possesses a settled home ought to + have, and must have, the legal right of a few days' grace in which to pay + his or her fine. And every youthful offender ought to have the same right, + also, even if he paid by instalments. + </p> + <p> + But at present it is so much easier, and therefore so much better, to + thrust the underworld, youthful and adult, into prison and have done with + them, than it is to pursue a sane but a little bit troublesome method that + would keep thousands of the poor from ever entering prison. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. UNEMPLOYED AND UNEMPLOYABLE + </h2> + <p> + My life has been one of activity; from an early age I have known what it + was to be constantly at work. To have the certainty of regular work, and + to have the discipline of constant duty, seem to me an ideal state for + mind and body. Labour, we are sometimes told, is one of God's + chastisements upon a fallen race; I believe it to be one of our choicest + blessings. I can conceive only one greater tragedy than the man who has + nothing to do, and that is the man who, earnestly longing for work, seeks + it day by day, and fails to find it. + </p> + <p> + Imagine his position, and imagine also, if you possibly can, the great + qualities that are demanded if such a man is to go through a lengthened + period of unemployment without losing his dignity, his manhood and his + desire for work. + </p> + <p> + I can tell at a glance the man who has had this experience. There is + something about his face that proclaims his hopelessness, the very poise + of his body and his peculiar measured step tell that his heart is utterly + unexpectant. To-morrow morning, and every morning, thousands of men will + rise early, even before the sun, and set out on their weary tramp and + hopeless search for work. To-morrow morning, and every morning, thousands + of men will be waiting at various dock-gates for a chance of obtaining a + few hours' hard work. And while these wait, others tramp, seeking and + asking for work. + </p> + <p> + Wives may be ill at home, children may be wanting food and clothing, but + every day thousands of husbands set out on the interminable search for + work, and every day return disappointed. Small wonder that some of them + descend to a lower grade and in addition to being unemployed, become + unemployable. + </p> + <p> + Look at those thousands of men clamouring daily at our dock-gates; about + one-half of them will obtain a few hours' hard work, but the other half + will go hopeless away. They will gather some courage during the night, for + the next morning they will find their way to, and be knocking once more + at, the same dock-gates. It takes sterling qualities to endure this life, + and there can be no greater hero than the man who goes through it and + still retains manhood. + </p> + <p> + But it would be more than a miracle if tens of thousands of men could live + this life without many of them becoming wastrels, for it is certain that a + life of unemployment is dangerous to manhood, to character and health. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact the ranks of the utterly submerged are being + constantly recruited from the ranks of those who have but casual work. + During winter the existence of the unemployed is more amply demonstrated, + for then we are called upon to witness the most depressing of all London's + sights, a parade of the unemployed. I never see one without experiencing + strange and mixed emotions. Let me picture a parade, for where I live they + are numerous, and at least once a week one will pass my window. + </p> + <p> + I hear the doleful strains of a tin whistle accompanied with a + rub-a-dub-dub of a kettledrum that has known its best days, and whose + sound is as doleful as that of the whistle. I know what is coming, and, + though I have seen it many times, it has still a fascination for me, so I + stand at my window and watch. I see two men carrying a dilapidated banner, + on which is inscribed two words, "The Unemployed." The man with the tin + whistle and the man with the drum follow the banner, and behind them is a + company of men marching four abreast. Two policemen on the pavement keep + pace with the head of the procession, and two others perform a similar + duty at the end of it. + </p> + <p> + On the pavement are a number of men with collecting boxes, ready to + receive any contribution that charitably inclined people may bestow. They + do not knock at any door, but they stand for a moment and rattle their + boxes in front of every window. + </p> + <p> + The sound of the whistle and the drum, and the rattle of boxes is, in all + conscience, depressing enough, but one glimpse at the men is infinitely + more so. + </p> + <p> + Most of them are below the average height and bulk. Their hands are in + their trousers pockets, their shoulders are up, but their heads are bent + downwards as if they were half ashamed of their job. A peculiar slouching + gait is characteristic of the whole company, and I look in vain for a firm + step, an upright carriage, and for some signs of alert manhood. As they + pass slowly by I see that some are old, but I also see that the majority + of them are comparatively young, and that many of them cannot be more than + thirty years of age. But whether young or old, I am conscious of the fact + that few of them are possessed of strength, ability and grit. There are no + artisans or craftsmen among them, and stalwart labourers are not in + evidence. + </p> + <p> + Pitiful as the procession is, I know that it does not represent the + genuine and struggling unemployed. They pass slowly by and go from street + to street. So they will parade throughout the livelong day. The police + will accompany them, and will see them disbanded when the evening closes + in. The boxes will be emptied, the contents tabulated, and a pro rata + division will be made, after which the processionists will go home and + remain unemployed till the next weekly parade comes round. + </p> + <p> + Unemployable! yes, but so much the greater pity; and so much more + difficult the problem, for they represent a very large class, and it is to + be feared a growing class of the manhood of London's underworld. + </p> + <p> + We cannot blame them for their physical inferiority, nor for their lack of + ability and grit. To expect them to exhibit great qualities would be + absurd. They are what they are, and a wise country would ponder the causes + that lead to such decadent manhood. During my prison lectures I have been + frequently struck with the mean size and appearance of the prisoners under + twenty-two years of age, who are so numerous in our London prisons. From + many conversations with them I have learned that lack of physical strength + means also lack of mental and moral strength, and lack of honest + aspiration, too! I am confirmed in this judgment by a statement that + appeared in the annual report of the Prison Commissioners, who state that + some years ago they adapted the plan in Pentonville prison of weighing and + measuring all the prisoners under the age of twenty-two. + </p> + <p> + The result I will tell in their own words: "As a class they are + two-and-a-half inches below the average height of the general youthful + population of the same age, and weigh approximately fourteen pounds less." + </p> + <p> + Here, then, we have an official proof of physical decadence, and of its + connection with prison life. For these young men, so continuously in + prison, grow into what should be manhood without any desire or + qualification for robust industrial life. + </p> + <p> + I never speak to them without feeling a deep pity. But as it is my + business to interest them, I try to learn something from them in return, + as the following illustration will show. + </p> + <p> + I had been giving a course of lectures on industrial life to the young + prisoners in Wormwood Scrubbs, who numbered over three hundred. On my last + visit I interrogated them as follows— + </p> + <p> + "Stand up those of you that have had regular or continuous work." None of + them stood up! "Stand up those of you who have been apprentices." None of + them stood up! "Stand up those of you who sold papers in the street before + you left school." Twenty-five responded! "How many sold other things in + the streets before leaving school?" Thirty! Seventeen others sold papers + after leaving school, and thirty-eight sold various articles. Altogether I + found that nearly two hundred had been in street occupations. + </p> + <p> + To my final question: "How many of you have met me in other prisons?" + Thirty-five stood up! I give these particulars because I think my readers + will realise the bearing they have on unemployment. + </p> + <p> + Surely it is obvious that if we continue to have a growing number of + physically inferior young men, who acquire no technical skill and have not + the slightest industrial training, that we shall continue to have an + increasing number of unemployed unemployables. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. SUGGESTIONS + </h2> + <p> + I propose in this last chapter to make some suggestions, which, I venture + to hope, will be found worthy of consideration and adoption. + </p> + <p> + The causes of so much misery, suffering and poverty in a rich and + self-governing country are numerous; and every cause needs a separate + consideration and remedy. + </p> + <p> + There is no royal road by which the underworld people can ascend to the + upperworld; there can be no specific for healing all the sores from which + humanity suffers. + </p> + <p> + Our complex civilisation, our industrial methods, our strange social + system, combined with the varied characteristics mental and physical of + individuals, make social salvation for the mass difficult and quite + impossible for many. + </p> + <p> + I shall have written with very little effect if I have not shown what some + of these individual characteristics are. They are strange, powerful and + extraordinary. So very mixed, even in one individual, that while sometimes + they inspire hope, at others they provoke despair. + </p> + <p> + If we couple the difficulties of individual character with the social, + industrial and economic difficulties, we see at once how great the problem + is. + </p> + <p> + We must admit, and we ought frankly to admit the truth, and to face it, + that there exists a very large army of people that cannot be socially + saved. What is more important, they do not want to be saved, and will not + be saved if they can avoid it. Their great desire is to be left alone, to + be allowed to live where and how they like. + </p> + <p> + For these people there must be, there will be, and at no far distant date, + detention, segregation and classification. We must let them quietly die + out, for it is not only folly, but suicidal folly to allow them to + continue and to perpetuate. + </p> + <p> + But we are often told that "Heaven helps those who help themselves"; in + fact, we have been told it so often that we have come to believe it, and, + what is worse, we religiously or irreligiously act upon it when dealing + with those below the line. + </p> + <p> + If any serious attempt is ever made to lessen the number of the homeless + and destitute, if that attempt is to have any chance of success, it will, + I am sure, be necessary to make an alteration in the adage and a reversal + of our present methods. + </p> + <p> + If the adage ran, "Heaven helps those who cannot help themselves," and if + we all placed ourselves on the side of Heaven, the present abominable and + distressing state of affairs would not endure for a month. + </p> + <p> + Now I charge it upon the State and local authorities that they avoid their + responsibilities to those who most sorely need their help, and who, too, + have the greatest claim upon their pity and protecting care. Sometimes + those claims are dimly recognised, and half-hearted efforts are made to + care for the unfortunate for a short space of time, and to protect them + for a limited period. + </p> + <p> + But these attempts only serve to show the futility of the efforts, for the + unfortunates are released from protective care at the very time when care + and protection should become more effectual and permanent. + </p> + <p> + It is comforting to know that we have in London special schools for + afflicted or defective children. Day by day hundreds of children are taken + to these schools, where genuine efforts are made to instruct them and to + develop their limited powers. But eight hundred children leave these + schools every year; in five years four thousand afflicted children leave + these schools. Leave the schools to live in the underworld of London, and + leave, too, just at the age when protection is urgently needed. For + adolescence brings new passions that need either control or prohibition. + </p> + <p> + I want my reader's imagination to dwell for a moment on these four + thousand defectives that leave our special schools every five years; I + want them to ask themselves what becomes of these children, and to + remember that what holds good with London's special schools, holds good + with regard to all other special schools our country over. + </p> + <p> + These young people grow into manhood and womanhood without the possibility + of growing in wisdom or skill. Few, very few of them, have the slightest + chance of becoming self-reliant or self-supporting; ultimately they form a + not inconsiderable proportion of the hopeless. + </p> + <p> + Philanthropic societies receive some of them, workhouses receive others, + but these institutions have not, nor do they wish to have, any power of + permanent detention, the cost would be too great. Sooner or later the + greater part of them become a costly burden upon the community, and an + eyesore to humanity. Many of them live nomadic lives, and make occasional + use of workhouses and similar institutions when the weather is bad, after + which they return to their uncontrolled existence. Feeble-minded and + defective women return again and again to the maternity wards to deposit + other burdens upon the ratepayers and to add to the number of their kind. + </p> + <p> + But the nation has begun to realise this costly absurdity of leaving this + army of irresponsibles in possession of uncontrolled liberty. The Royal + Commission on the Care and Control of the Feeble-minded, after sitting for + four years, has made its report. This report is a terrible document and an + awful indictment of our neglect. + </p> + <p> + The commissioners tell us that on January 1st, 1906, there were in England + and Wales 149,628 idiots, imbeciles, and feeble-minded; in addition there + were on the same date 121,079 persons suffering from some kind of insanity + or dementia. So that the total number of those who came within the scope + of the inquiry was no less than 271,607, or 1 in every 120 of the whole + population. + </p> + <p> + Of the persons suffering from mental defect, i.e. feeble-minded, + imbeciles, etc., one-third were supported entirely at the public cost in + workhouses, asylums, prisons, etc. + </p> + <p> + The report does not tell us much about the remaining two-thirds; but those + of us who have experience know only too well what becomes of them, and are + painfully acquainted with the hopelessness of their lives. + </p> + <p> + Here, then, is my first suggestion—a national plan for the permanent + detention, segregation and control of all persons who are indisputably + feeble-minded. Surely this must be the duty of the State, for it is + impossible that philanthropic societies can deal permanently with them. + </p> + <p> + We must catch them young; we must make them happy, for they have + capabilities for childlike happiness, and we must make their lives as + useful as possible. But we must no longer allow them the curse of + uncontrolled liberty. + </p> + <p> + Again, no boy should be discharged from reformatory or industrial schools + as "unfit for training" unless passed on to some institution suitable to + his age and condition. If we have no such institutions, as of course we + have not, then the State must provide them. And the magistrates must have + the power to commit boys and girls who are charged before them to suitable + industrial schools or reformatories as freely, as certainly, as + unquestioned, and as definitely as they now commit them to prison. + </p> + <p> + At present magistrates have not this power, for though, as a matter of + course, these institutions receive numbers of boys and girls from + police-courts, the institutions have the power to Refuse, to grant + "licences" or to "discharge." So it happens that the meshes of the net are + large enough to allow those that ought to be detained to go free. + </p> + <p> + No one can possibly doubt that a provision of this character would largely + diminish the number of those that become homeless vagrants. + </p> + <p> + But I proceed to my second suggestion—the detention and segregation + of all professional tramps. If it is intolerable that an army of poor + afflicted human beings should live homeless and nomadic lives, it is still + more intolerable that an army of men and women who are not deficient in + intelligence, and who are possessed of fairly healthy bodies should, in + these days, be allowed to live as our professional tramps live. + </p> + <p> + I have already spoken of the fascination attached to a life of + irresponsible liberty. The wind on the heath, the field and meadow + glistening with dew or sparkling with flowers, the singing of the bird, + the joy of life, and no rent day coming round, who would not be a tramp! + Perhaps our professional tramps think nothing of these things, for to eat, + to sleep, to be free of work, to be uncontrolled, to have no anxieties, + save the gratification of animal demands and animal passions, is the + perfection of life for thousands of our fellow men and women. + </p> + <p> + Is this kind of life to be permitted? Every sensible person will surely + say that it ought not to be permitted. Yet the number of people who attach + themselves to this life continually increases, for year by year the prison + commissioners tell us that the number of persons imprisoned for vagrancy, + sleeping out, indecency, etc., continues to increase, and that short terms + of imprisonment only serve as periods of recuperation for them, for in + prison they are healed of their sores and cleansed from their vermin. + </p> + <p> + With every decent fellow who tramps in search of work we must have the + greatest sympathy, but for professional tramps we must provide very + simply. Most of these men, women and children find their way into prison, + workhouses and casual wards at some time or other. When the man gets into + prison, the woman and children go into the nearest workhouse. When the man + is released from prison he finds the woman and children waiting for him, + and away they go refreshed and cleansed by prison and workhouse treatment. + </p> + <p> + We must stop for ever this costly and disastrous course of life. How? By + establishing in every county and under county authorities, or, if + necessary, by a combination of counties, special colonies for vagrants, + one for males and another for females. Every vagrant who could not give + proof that he had some definite object in tramping must be committed to + these colonies and detained, till such time as definite occupation or home + be found for him. + </p> + <p> + Here they should live and work, practically earning their food and + clothing; their lives should be made clean and decent, and certainly + economical. For these colonies there must be of course State aid. + </p> + <p> + The children must be adopted by the board of guardians or education + authorities and trained in small homes outside the workhouse gates this + should be compulsory. + </p> + <p> + These two plans would certainly clear away the worst and most hopeless + tribes of nomads, and though for a short time they would impose + considerable pecuniary obligations upon us, yet we should profit even + financially in the near future, and, best of all, should prevent a second + generation arising to fill the place of those detained. + </p> + <p> + The same methods should be adopted with the wretched mass of humanity that + crowds nightly on the Thames Embankment. Philanthropy is worse than + useless with the great majority of these people. Hot soup in the small + hours of a cold morning is doubtless comforting to them, and if the night + is wet, foggy, etc., a cover for a few hours is doubtless a luxury. They + drink the soup, they take advantage of the cover, and go away, to return + at night for more soup and still another cover. Oh, the folly of it all! + </p> + <p> + We must have shelters for them, but the County Council must provide them. + Large, clean and healthy places into which, night by night, the human + derelicts from the streets should be taken by special police. + </p> + <p> + But there should be no release with the morning light, but detention while + full inquiries are made regarding them. Friends would doubtless come + forward to help many, but the remainder should be classified according to + age and physical and mental condition, and released only when some + satisfactory place or occupation is forthcoming for them. + </p> + <p> + The nightly condition of the Embankment is not only disgraceful, but it is + dangerous to the health and wellbeing of the community. + </p> + <p> + It is almost inconceivable that we should allow those parts of London + which are specially adapted for the convenience of the public to be + monopolised by a mass of diseased and unclean humanity. If we would but + act sensibly with these classes, I am sure we could then deal in an + effectual manner with that portion of the nomads for whom there is hope. + </p> + <p> + If the vast amount of money that is poured out in the vain effort to help + those whom it is impossible to help was devoted to those that are + helpable, the difficulty would be solved. + </p> + <p> + So I would suggest, and it is no new suggestion, that all philanthropic + societies that deal with the submerged should unite and co-ordinate with + the authorities. That private individuals who have money, time or ability + at their command should unite with them. That one great all-embracing + organisation, empowered and aided by the State, should be formed, to which + the man, woman or family that is overtaken or overwhelmed by misfortune + could turn in time of their need with the assurance that their needs would + be sympathetically considered and their requirements wisely attended to. + </p> + <p> + An organisation of this description would prevent tens of thousands from + becoming vagrants, and a world of misery and unspeakable squalor would be + prevented. + </p> + <p> + The recent Report on the Poor Law foreshadows an effort of this + description, and in Germany this method is tried with undoubted success. + </p> + <p> + Some day we shall try it, but that day will not come till we have realised + how futile, how expensive our present methods are. The Poor Law system + needs recasting. Charity must be divorced from religion. Philanthropic and + semi-religious organisations must be separated from their commercial + instincts and commercial greed. The workhouse, the prison, the Church Army + and the Salvation Army's shelters and labour homes must no longer form the + circle round which so many hopelessly wander. + </p> + <p> + No man or set of men must be considered the saviour of the poor, and + though much knowledge will be required, it perhaps will be well not to + have too much. + </p> + <p> + Above all, the desire to prevent, rather than the desire to restore, must + be the aim of the organisation which should embrace every parish in our + land. + </p> + <p> + Finally, and in a few words, my methods would be detention and protective + care for the afflicted or defective, detention and segregation for the + tramps, and a great charitable State-aided organisation to deal with the + unfortunate. + </p> + <p> + Tramps we shall continue to have, but there need be nothing degrading + about them, if only the professional element can be eliminated. + </p> + <p> + Labour exchanges are doing a splendid work for the genuine working man + whose labour must often be migratory. But every labour exchange should + have its clean lodging-house, in which the decent fellows who want work, + and are fitted for work, may stay for a night, and thus avoid the + contamination attending the common lodging-houses or the degradation and + detention attending casual wards. + </p> + <p> + There exists, I am sure, great possibilities for good in labour exchanges, + if, and if only, their services can be devoted to the genuinely + unemployed. + </p> + <p> + Already I have said they are doing much, and one of the most useful things + they do is the advancement of rail-fares to men when work is obtained at a + distance. A development in this direction will do much to end the + disasters that attend decent fellows when they go on tramp. Migratory + labour is unfortunately an absolute necessity, for our industrial and + commercial life demand it, and almost depend upon it. The men who supply + that want are quite as useful citizens as the men who have permanent and + settled work. But their lives are subject to many dangers, temptations, + and privations from which they ought to be delivered. + </p> + <p> + The more I reflect upon the present methods for dealing with professional + tramps, the more I am persuaded that these methods are foolish and + extravagant. But the more I reflect on the life of the genuinely + unemployed that earnestly desire work and are compelled to tramp in search + of it, the more I am persuaded that such life is attended by many dangers. + The probability being that if the tramp and search be often repeated or + long-continued, the desire for, and the ability to undergo, regular work + will disappear. + </p> + <p> + But physical and mental inferiority, together with the absence of moral + purpose, have a great deal to say with regard to the number of our + unemployed. + </p> + <p> + If you ask me the source of this stunted manhood, I point you to the + narrow streets of the underworld. Thence they issue, and thence alone. + </p> + <p> + Do you ask the cause? The causes are many! First and foremost stands that + all-pervading cause—the housing of the poor. Who can enumerate the + thousands that have breathed the fetid air of the miserable + dwelling-places in our slums? Who dare picture how they live and sleep, as + they lie, unripe sex with sex, for mutual taint? I dare not, and if I did + no publisher could print it. + </p> + <p> + Who dare describe the life of a mother-wife, whose husband and children + have become dependent upon her earnings! I dare not! Who dare describe the + exact life and doings of four families living in a little house intended + for one family? Who can describe the life, speech, actions and atmosphere + of such places? I cannot, for the task would be too disgusting! + </p> + <p> + For tens of thousands of people are allowed, or compelled, to live and die + under those conditions. How can vigorous manhood or pure womanhood come + out of them? Ought we to expect, have we any right to expect, manhood and + womanhood born and bred under such conditions to be other than blighted? + </p> + <p> + Whether we expect it or not matters but little, for we have this mass of + blighted humanity with us, and, like an old man of the sea, it is a burden + upon our back, a burden that is not easily got rid of. + </p> + <p> + What are we doing with this burden in the present? How are we going to + prevent it in the future? are two serious questions that must be answered, + and quickly, too, or something worse will happen to us. + </p> + <p> + The authorities must see to it at once that children shall have as much + air and breathing space in their homes by night as they have in the + schools by day. + </p> + <p> + What sense can there be in demanding and compelling a certain amount of + air space in places where children are detained for five and a half hours, + and then allow those children to stew in apologies for rooms, where the + atmosphere is vile beyond description, and where they are crowded + indiscriminately for the remaining hours? + </p> + <p> + This is the question of the day and the hour. Drink, foreign invasion, the + House of Lords or the House of Commons, Tariff Reform or Free Trade, none + of these questions, no, nor the whole lot of them combined, compare for + one moment in importance with this one awful question. + </p> + <p> + Give the poor good airy housing at a reasonable rent, and half the + difficulties against which our nation runs its thick head would disappear. + Hospitals and prisons would disappear too as if by magic, for it is to + these places that the smitten manhood finds its way. + </p> + <p> + I know it is a big question! But it is a question that has got to be + solved, and in solving it some of our famous and cherished notions will + have to go. Every house, no matter to whom it belongs, or who holds the + lease, who lets or sub-lets, every inhabited house must be licensed by the + local authorities for a certain number of inmates, so many and no more; a + maximum, but no minimum. + </p> + <p> + Local authorities even now have great powers concerning construction, + drains, etc. Let them now be empowered to make stringent rules about + habitations other than their municipal houses. The piggeries misnamed + lodging-houses, the common shelters, etc., are inspected and licensed for + a certain number of inmates; it is high time that this was done with the + wretched houses in which the poor live. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the irony of it! Idle tramps must not be crowded, but the children of + the poor may be crowded to suffocation. This must surely stop; if not, it + will stop us! Again I say, that local authorities must have the power to + decide the number of inhabitants that any house shall accommodate, and + license it accordingly, and of course have legal power to enforce their + decision. + </p> + <p> + The time has come for a thorough investigation. I would have every room in + every house visited by properly appointed officers. I would have every + detail as to size of room, number of persons and children, rent paid, + etc., etc.; I would have its conditions and fitness for human habitation + inquired into and reported upon. + </p> + <p> + I would miss no house, I would excuse none. A standard should be set as to + the condition and position of every house, and the number it might be + allowed to accommodate. This would bring many dark things into the light + of day, and I am afraid the reputation of many respectable people would + suffer, and their pockets too, although they tell us that they "have but a + life-interest" in the pestiferous places. But if we drive people out of + these places, where will they go? + </p> + <p> + Well, out they must go! and it is certain that there is at present no + place for them! + </p> + <p> + Places must be prepared for them, and local authorities must prepare them. + Let them address themselves to this matter and no longer shirk their duty + with regard to the housing of the poor. Let them stop for ever the + miserable pretence of housing the poor that they at present pursue. For be + it known that they house "respectable" people only, those that have + limited families and can pay a high rental. + </p> + <p> + If local authorities cannot do it, then the State must step in and help + them, for it must be done. It seems little use waiting for private + speculation or philanthropic trusts to show us the way in this matter, for + both want and expect too high an interest for their outlay. But a good + return will assuredly be forthcoming if the evil be tackled in a sensible + way. + </p> + <p> + Let no one be downhearted about new schemes for housing the poor not + paying! Why, everything connected with the poor from the cradle to the + grave is a source of good profit to some one, if not to themselves. + </p> + <p> + Let a housing plan be big enough and simple enough, and I am certain that + it will pay even when it provides for the very poor. But old ideals will + have to be forsaken and new ones substituted. + </p> + <p> + I have for many years considered this question very deeply, and from the + side of the very poor. I think that I know how the difficulty can be met, + and I am prepared to place my suggestions for housing the poor before any + responsible person or authority who would care to consider the matter. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it is due to the public to say here that one of the greatest + sorrows of my life was my inability to make good a scheme that a rich + friend and myself formulated some years ago. This failure was due to the + serious illness of my friend, and I hope that it will yet materialise. + </p> + <p> + But, in addition to the housing, there are other matters which affect the + vigour and virility of the poor. School days must be extended till the age + of sixteen. Municipal playgrounds open in the evening must be established. + If boys and girls are kept at school till sixteen, older and weaker people + will be able to get work which these boys have, but ought not to have. The + nation demands a vigorous manhood, but the nation cannot have it without + some sacrifice, which means doing without child labour, for child labour + is the destruction of virile manhood. + </p> + <p> + Emigration is often looked upon as the great specific. But the + multiplication of agencies for exporting the young, the healthy, and the + strong to the colonies causes me some alarm. For emigration as at present + conducted certainly does not lessen the number of the unfit and the + helpless. + </p> + <p> + It must be apparent to any one who thinks seriously upon this matter that + a continuance of the present methods is bound to entail disastrous + consequences, and to promote racial decay at home. The problem of the + degenerates, the physical and mental weaklings is already a pressing + national question. But serious as the question is at the present moment, + it is but light in its intensity compared with what it must be in the near + future, unless we change our methods. One fact ought to be definitely + understood and seriously pondered, and it is this: no emigration agency, + no board of guardians, no church organisation and no human salvage + organisation emigrates or assists to emigrate young people of either sex + who cannot pass a severe medical examination and be declared mentally and + physically sound. This demands serious thought; for the puny, the weak and + the unfit are ineligible; our colonies will have none of them, and perhaps + our colonies are wise, so the unfit remain at home to be our despair and + affliction. + </p> + <p> + But our colonies demand not only physical and mental health, but moral + health also, for boys and girls from reformatory and industrial schools + are not acceptable; though the training given in these institutions ought + to make the young people valuable assets in a new country. + </p> + <p> + The serious fact that only the best are exported and that all the + afflicted and the weak remain at home is, I say, worthy of profound + attention. + </p> + <p> + Thousands of healthy working men with a little money and abundant grit + emigrate of their own choice and endeavour. Fine fellows they generally + are, and good fortune attends them! Thousands of others with no money but + plenty of strength are assisted "out," and they are equally good, while + thousands of healthy young women are assisted "out" also. All through the + piece the strong and healthy leave our shores, and the weaklings are left + at home. + </p> + <p> + It is always with mixed feelings that I read of boys and girls being sent + to Canada, for while I feel hopeful regarding their future, I know that + the matter does not end with them; for I appreciate some of the evils that + result to the old country from the method of selection. + </p> + <p> + Emigration, then, as at present conducted, is no cure for the evil it is + supposed to remedy. Nay, it increases the evil, for it secures to our + country an ever-increasing number of those who are absolutely unfitted to + fulfil the duties of citizenship. + </p> + <p> + Yet emigration might be a beneficent thing if it were wisely conducted on + a comprehensive basis, which should include a fair proportion of those + that are now excluded because of their unfitness. + </p> + <p> + Are we to go on far ever with our present method of dealing with those who + have been denied wisdom and stature? Who are what they are, but whose + disabilities cannot be charged upon themselves, and for whom there is no + place other than prison or workhouse? + </p> + <p> + Yet many of them have wits, if not brains, and are clever in little ways + of their own. At home we refuse them the advantages that are solicitously + pressed upon their bigger and stronger brothers. Abroad every door is + locked against them. What are they to do? The Army and Navy will have none + of them! and industrial life has no place for them. So prison, workhouse + and common lodging-houses are their only homes. + </p> + <p> + Wise emigration methods would include many of them, and decent fellows + they would make if given a chance. Oxygen and new environment, with plenty + of food, etc., would make an alteration in their physique, and regular + work would prove their salvation. But this matter should, and must be, + undertaken by the State, for philanthropy cannot deal with it; and when + the State does undertake it, consequences unthought-of will follow, for + the State will be able to close one-half of its prisons. + </p> + <p> + It is the helplessness of weaklings that provides the State with more than + half its prisoners. Is it impossible, I would ask, for a Government like + ours, with all its resources of wealth, power and influence to devise and + carry out some large scheme of emigration? If colonial governments wisely + refuse our inferior youths, is it not unwise for our own Government to + neglect them? + </p> + <p> + In the British Empire is there no idle land that calls for men and + culture? Here we in England have thousands of young fellows who, because + of their helplessness, are living lives of idleness and wrongdoing. + </p> + <p> + Time after time these young men find their way into prison, and every + short sentence they undergo sends them back to liberty more hopeless and + helpless. Many of them are not bad fellows; they have some qualities that + are estimable, but they are undisciplined and helpless. Not all the + discharged prisoners' aid societies in the land, even with Government + assistance, can procure reasonable and progressive employment for them. + </p> + <p> + The thought of thousands of young men, not criminals, spending their lives + in a senseless and purposeless round of short imprisonments, simply + because they are not quite as big and as strong as their fellows, fills me + with wonder and dismay, for I can estimate some of the consequences that + result. + </p> + <p> + Is it impossible, I would ask, for our Government to take up this matter + in a really great way? Can no arrangement be made with our colonies for + the reception and training of these young fellows? Probably not so long as + the colonies can secure an abundance of better human material. But has a + bona-fide effort been made in this direction? I much doubt it since the + days of transportation. + </p> + <p> + Is it not possible for our Government to obtain somewhere in the whole of + its empire a sufficiency of suitable land, to which the best of them may + be transplanted, and on which they may be trained for useful service and + continuous work? + </p> + <p> + Is it not possible to develop the family system for them, and secure a + sufficient number of house fathers and mothers to care for them in a + domestic way, leaving their physical and industrial training to others? + Very few know these young fellows better than myself, and I am bold enough + to say that under such conditions the majority of them would prove useful + men. + </p> + <p> + Surely a plan of this description would be infinitely better than + continued imprisonments for miserable offences, and much less expensive, + too! + </p> + <p> + I am very anxious to emphasise this point. The extent of our prison + population depends upon the treatment these young men receive at the hands + of the State. + </p> + <p> + So long as the present treatment prevails, so long will the State be + assured of a permanent prison population. + </p> + <p> + But the evil does not end with the continuance and expense of prison. The + army of the unfit is perpetually increased by this procedure. Very few of + these young men—I think I may say with safety, none of them—after + three or four convictions become settled and decent citizens; for they + cannot if they would, there is no opportunity. They would not if they + could, for the desire is no longer existent. + </p> + <p> + We have already preventive detention for older persons, who, having been + four times convicted of serious crime, are proved to be "habitual + criminals." But hopeless as the older criminals are, the country is quite + willing to adopt such measures and bear such expense as may be thought + requisite for the purpose of detaining, and perchance reforming them. + </p> + <p> + But the young men for whom I now plead are a hundred times more numerous + and a hundred times more hopeful than the old habitual criminals, whose + position excites so much attention. We must have an oversea colony for + these young men, and an Act of Parliament for the "preventive detention" + of young offenders who are repeatedly convicted. + </p> + <p> + A third conviction should ensure every homeless offender the certainty of + committal to the colony. This would stop for ever the senseless short + imprisonment system, for we could keep them free of prison till their + third conviction, when they should only be detained pending arrangement + for their emigration. + </p> + <p> + The more I think upon this matter the more firmly I am convinced that + nothing less will prevail. Though, of course, even with this plan, the + young men who are hopelessly afflicted with disease or deformity must be + excluded. For them the State must make provision at home, but not in + prison. + </p> + <p> + A scheme of this character, if once put into active and thorough + operation, would naturally work itself out, for year by year the number of + young fellows to whom it would apply would grow less and less; but while + working itself out, it would also work out the salvation of many young + men, and bring lasting benefits upon our country. + </p> + <p> + Vagrancy, with its attendant evils, would be greatly diminished, many + prisons would be closed, workhouses and casual wards would be less + necessary. The cost of the scheme would be more than repaid to the + community by the savings effected in other ways. The moral effect also + would be equally large, and the physical effects would be almost past + computing, for it would do much to arrest the decay of the race that + appears inseparable from our present conditions and procedure. + </p> + <p> + But the State must do something more than this; for many young habitual + offenders are too young for emigration. For them the State reformatories + must be established, regardless of their physical condition. To these + reformatories magistrates must have the power of committal as certainly as + they have the power of committal to prison. There must be no "by your + leave," no calling in a doctor to examine the offender. But promptly and + certainly when circumstances justify the committal to a State reformatory, + the youthful offender should go. With the certainty that, be his physique + and intellect what they may, he would be detained, corrected and trained + for some useful life. Or, if found "quite unfit" or feeble-minded, sent to + an institution suitable to his condition. + </p> + <p> + Older criminals, when proved to be mentally unsound, are detained in + places other than prisons till their health warrants discharge. But the + potential criminals among the young, no matter how often they are brought + before the courts, are either sent back to hopeless liberty or thrust into + prison for a brief period. + </p> + <p> + I repeat that philanthropy cannot attempt to deal with the habitual + offenders, either in the days of their boyhood or in their early manhood. + For philanthropy can at the most deal with but a few, and those few must + be of the very best. + </p> + <p> + I cannot believe that our colonies would refuse to ratify the arrangement + that I have outlined, if they were invited to do so by our own Government, + and given proper security. They owe us something; we called them into + existence, we guarantee their safety, they receive our grit, blood and + money; will they not receive, then, under proper conditions and + safeguards, some of our surplus youth, even if it be weak? I believe they + will! + </p> + <p> + In the strictures that I have ventured to pass upon the methods of the + Salvation Army, I wish it to be distinctly understood that I make no + attack upon the character and intentions of the men and women who compose + it. I know that they are both earnest and sincere. For many of them I have + a great admiration. My strictures refer to the methods and the methods + only. + </p> + <p> + For long years I have been watchful of results, and I have been so placed + in life that I have had plenty of opportunities for seeing and learning. + My disappointment has been great, for I expected great things. Many other + men and women whose judgment is entitled to respect believe as I do. But + they remain silent, hoping that after all great good may come. But I must + speak, for I believe the methods adopted are altogether unsound, and in + reality tend to aggravate the evils they set out to cure. In 1900 I + ventured to express the following opinion of shelters— + </p> + <p> + "EXTRACTS FROM 'PICTURES AND PROBLEMS' + </p> + <p> + "I look with something approaching dismay at the multiplication of these + institutions throughout the length and breadth of our land. To the loafing + vagrant class, a very large class, I know, but a class not worthy of much + consideration, they are a boon. These men tramp from one town to another, + and a week or two in each suits them admirably, till the warm weather and + light nights arrive, and then they are off. + </p> + <p> + "This portion of the 'submerged' will always be submerged till some power + takes hold of them and compels them to work out their own salvation. + </p> + <p> + "But there is such a procession of them that the labour homes, etc., get + continual recruits, and the managers are enabled to contract for a great + deal of unskilled work. + </p> + <p> + "In all our large towns there are numbers of self-respecting men, men who + have committed no crime, save the unpardonable crime of growing old. Time + was when such men could get odd clerical work, envelope and circular + addressing, and a variety of light but irregular employment, at which, by + economy and the help of their wives, they made a sort of living. But these + men are now driven to the wall, for their poorly paid and irregular work + is taken from them." + </p> + <p> + In 1911 A. M. Nicholl, in his not unfriendly book on GENERAL BOOTH AND THE + SALVATION ARMY, makes the following statement, which I make no apology for + reproducing. + </p> + <p> + His judgment, considering the position he held with the Army for so many + years, is worthy of consideration. Here are some of his words— + </p> + <p> + "From an economic standpoint the social experiment of the Salvation Army + stands condemned almost root and branch. So much the worse for economics, + the average Salvation Army officer will reply. But at the end of twenty + years the Army cannot point to one single cause of social distress that it + has removed, or to one single act which it has promoted that has dealt a + death-blow at one social evil.... + </p> + <p> + "A more serious question, one which lies at the root of all indiscriminate + charity, is the value to the community of these shelters. So far as the + men in the shelters are benefited by them, they do not elevate them, + either physically or morally. A proportion—what proportion?—are + weeded out, entirely by the voluntary action of the men themselves, and + given temporary work, carrying sandwich-boards, addressing envelopes, + sorting paper, etc.; but the cause of their social dilapidation remains + unaltered. They enter the shelter, pay their twopence or fourpence as the + case may be (and few are allowed to enter unless they do), they listen to + some moral advice once a week, with which they are surfeited inside and + outside the shelter, they go to bed, and next morning leave the shelter to + face the streets as they came in, The shelter gets no nearer to the cause + of their depravity than it does to the economic cause of their failure, or + to the economic remedy which the State must eventually introduce.... + </p> + <p> + "The nomads of our civilisation wander past us in their fringy, dirty + attire night by night. If a man stops us in the streets and tells us that + he is starving, and we offer him a ticket to a labour home or a night + shelter, he will tell you that the chances are one out of ten if he will + procure admission. The better class of the submerged, or those who use the + provision for the submerged in order to gratify their own selfishness, + have taken possession of the vacancies, and so they wander on. If a man + applies for temporary work, the choice of industry is disappointingly + limited. One is tempted to think that the whole superstructure of cheap + and free shelters has tended to the standardisation of a low order of + existence in this netherworld that attracted the versatile philanthropist + at the head of the Salvation Army twenty years ago.... + </p> + <p> + "The general idea about the Salvation Army is, that the nearer it gets to + the most abandoned classes, the more wonderful and the more numerous are + the converts. It is a sad admission to pass on to the world that the + opposite is really the case. The results are fewer. General Booth would + almost break his heart if he knew the proportion of men who have been + 'saved,' in the sense that he most values, through his social scheme. But + he ought to know, and the Church and the world ought to know, and in order + that it may I will make bold to say that the officials cannot put their + hands on the names of a thousand men in all parts of the world who are + to-day members of the Army who were converted at the penitent form of + shelters and elevators, who are now earning a living outside the control + of the Army's social work." + </p> + <p> + But the public appear to have infinite faith in the multiplication and + enlargement of these shelters, as the following extract from a daily paper + of December 1911 will show— + </p> + <p> + "'Since the days of Mahomet, not forgetting St. Francis and Martin Luther, + I doubt if there is any man who has started, without help from the + Government, such a world-wide movement as this.' + </p> + <p> + "This was Sir George Askwith's tribute to General Booth and the Salvation + Army at the opening of the new wing of the men's Elevators in Spa Road, + Bermondsey, yesterday afternoon. The task of declaring the wing open + devolved upon the Duke of Argyll, who had beside him on the platform the + Duchess of Marlborough, Lady St. Davids, Lord Armstrong, Sir Daniel and + Lady Hamilton, Alderman Sir Charles C. Wakefield, Sir Edward Clarke, K.C., + Sir George Askwith, and the Mayor of Bermondsey and General Booth. + </p> + <p> + "The General, who is just back from Denmark, spoke for three-quarters of + an hour, notwithstanding his great age and his admission that he was 'far + from well.' The Elevator, as its name implies, seeks to raise men who are + wholly destitute and give them a fresh start. The new wing has been + erected at a cost of L10,000, and the Elevator, which accommodates 590 men + and covers two-and-a-half acres, represents an expenditure of L30,000, and + is the largest institution of its kind in the world. + </p> + <p> + "'The men,' said the General, 'are admitted on two conditions only, that + they are willing to obey orders, and ready to work. Before he has his + breakfast a man must earn it, and the same with each meal, the ticket + given him entitling him to remuneration in proportion to the work he has + done. If the men's conduct is good, they are passed on to another of the + Army's institutions, and ultimately some post is secured for them through + the employers of labour with whom the Army is in touch.'" + </p> + <p> + I believe General Booth to be sincere, and that he believes exactly what + he stated. But even sincerity must not be allowed to mislead a generous + public. Employers of labour do not, cannot, and will not keep positions + open for General Booth or any other man. Employers require strong, healthy + men who can give value for the wages paid. Thousands of men who have never + entered shelters or prison are not only available but eager for positions + that show any prospect of permanence, whether the work be heavy or + skilled. For work that requires neither brains, skill or much physical + strength, thousands of men whose characters are good are also available. I + venture to say that General Booth cannot supply the public with a + reasonable list of men who, having passed through the shelters, have been + put into permanent work. + </p> + <p> + For every man and woman who is seeking to uplift their fellows I have + heartfelt sympathy. For every organisation that is earnestly seeking to + alleviate or remove social evils I wish abundant success. Against the + organisations named I have not the slightest feeling. If they were + successful in the work they undertake, no one in England would rejoice + more than myself. But they are not successful, and because I believe that + their claim to success blinds a well-intentioned and generous public, and + prevents real consideration of deep-seated evils, I make these comments + and give the above extracts. + </p> + <p> + I question whether any one in London knows better than myself the + difficulty of finding employment for a man who is "down," for I have + written hundreds of letters, I have visited numerous employers for this + one purpose; I have begged and pleaded with employers, sometimes I have + offered "security" for the honesty of men for whom I was concerned. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally, but only occasionally, was I successful. I have advertised + on men's behalf frequently, but nothing worthy of the name of "work" has + resulted. I know the mind of employers, and I know their difficulties; I + have been too often in touch with them not to know. I have also been in + touch with many men who have been in the shelters, elevators, bridges, + labour homes and tents; I know their experience has been one of + disappointment. I have written on behalf of such men to the + "head-quarters," but nothing has resulted but a few days' work at + wood-chopping, envelope addressing, or bill distributing, none of which + can be called employment. + </p> + <p> + Day after day men who have been led to expect work wait, and wait in vain, + in or about the head-quarters for the promised work that so rarely comes. + For these men I am concerned, for them I am bold enough to risk the + censure of good people, for I hold that it is not only cruel, but wicked + to excite in homeless men hopes that cannot possibly be realised. + </p> + <p> + This point has been driven home to my very heart, for I have seen what + comes to pass when the spark of hope is extinguished. Better, far better, + that a man who is "down" should trust to his own exertions and rely upon + himself than entertain illusions and rely upon others. + </p> + <p> + And now I close by presenting in catalogue form some of the steps that I + believe to be necessary for dealing with the terrible problems of our + great underworld. + </p> + <p> + First: the permanent detention and segregation of all who are classified + as feeble-minded. Second: the permanent detention and segregation of all + professional tramps. Third: proper provision for men and women who are + hopelessly crippled or disabled. Fourth: establishment by the educational + authorities, or by the State of reformatory schools, for youthful + delinquents and juvenile adults regardless of physical weakness, + deprivations or disease. Fifth: compulsory education, physical, mental and + technical, up to sixteen years of age. Sixth: the establishment of + municipal play-grounds and organised play for youths who have left school. + Seventh: national and State-aided emigration to include the best of the + "unfit." Eighth: the abolition of common lodging-houses, and the + establishment of municipal lodging-houses for men and also for women. + Ninth: the establishment of trade boards for all industries. Tenth: proper + and systematic help for widows who have young children. Eleventh: thorough + inspection and certification by local authorities of all houses and + "dwellings" inhabited by the poor. Twelfth: housing for the very poor by + municipal authorities, with abolition of fire-places, the heating to be + provided from one central source. The housing to include a restaurant + where nourishing but simple food may be obtained for payment that ensures + a small profit. Thirteenth: more abundant and reasonable provision of work + by the State, local authorities and for the unemployed. Fourteenth: a + co-ordination of all philanthropic and charity agencies to form one great + society with branches in every parish. + </p> + <p> + Give us these things, and surely they are not impossible, and half our + present expensive difficulties would disappear. Fewer prisons, workhouses + and hospitals would be required. The need for shelters and labour homes + would not exist. The necessity for the activities of many charitable + agencies whose constant appeals are so disturbing and puzzling, but whose + work is now required, would pass away too. + </p> + <p> + But with all these things given, there would be still great need for the + practice of kindness and the development of brotherly love. For without + brotherly love and kindly human interest, laws are but cast-iron rules, + and life but a living death. What is life worth? What can life be worth if + it be only self-centred? To love is to live! to feel and take an interest + in others is to be happy indeed, and to feel the pulses thrill. + </p> + <p> + And I am sure that love is abundant in our old country, but it is largely + paralysed and mystified. For many objects that love would fain accomplish + appear stupendous and hopeless. What a different old England we might + have, if the various and hopeless classes that I have enumerated were + permanently detained. For then love would come to its own, the real + misfortunes of life would then form a passport to practical help. Widows + would no longer be unceremoniously kicked into the underworld; accidents + and disablements would no longer condemn men and women to live lives of + beggary. Best of all, charitable and kindly deeds would no longer be done + by proxy. It is because I see how professional and contented beggary + monopolises so much effort and costs so much money; because I see how it + deprives the really unfortunate and the suffering poor of the practical + help that would to them be such a blessed boon, that I am anxious for its + days to be ended. May that day soon come, for when it comes, there will be + some chance of love and justice obtaining deliverance for the oppressed + and deserving poor who abound in London's dark underworld. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1420 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90f4f0b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1420 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1420) diff --git a/old/1420-h.zip b/old/1420-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..796ea4c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1420-h.zip diff --git a/old/1420-h/1420-h.htm b/old/1420-h/1420-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..da478ff --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1420-h/1420-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8394 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + London's Underworld, by Thomas Holmes + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of London's Underworld, by Thomas Holmes + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: London's Underworld + +Author: Thomas Holmes + +Release Date: August 22, 2008 [EBook #1420] +Last Updated: February 4, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LONDON'S UNDERWORLD *** + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteeer, and David Widger + + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Thomas Holmes + </h2> + <h4> + (Secretary of the Howard Association) + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h5> + 1912 + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + I am hopeful that some of the experiences given in the following chapters + may throw a little light upon some curious but very serious social + problems. Corporate humanity always has had, and always will have, serious + problems to consider. + </p> + <p> + The more civilised we become the more complex and serious will be our + problems—unless sensible and merciful yet thorough methods are + adopted for dealing with the evils. I think that my pages will show that + the methods now in use for coping with some of our great evils do not + lessen, but considerably increase the evils they seek to cure. + </p> + <p> + With great diffidence I venture to point out what I conceive to be reasons + for failure, and also to offer some suggestions that, if adopted, will, I + believe, greatly minimise, if not remove, certain evils. + </p> + <p> + I make no claim to prophetic wisdom; I know no royal road to social + salvation, nor of any specific to cure all human sorrow and smart. + </p> + <p> + But I have had a lengthened and unique experience. I have closely + observed, and I have deeply pondered. I have seen, therefore I ask that + the experiences narrated, the statements made, and the views expressed in + this book may receive earnest consideration, not only from those who have + the temerity to read it, but serious consideration also from our Statesmen + and local authorities, from our Churches and philanthropists, from our men + of business and from men of the world. + </p> + <p> + For truly we are all deeply concerned in the various matters which are + dealt with in "London's Underworld." + </p> + <p> + THOMAS HOLMES. + </p> + <p> + 12, Bedford Road, + </p> + <p> + Tottenham, N. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h4> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </h4> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE NOMADS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + LODGING-HOUSES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + FURNISHED APARTMENTS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DISABLED + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + WOMEN IN THE UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARRIAGE IN THE UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + BRAINS IN THE UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + PLAY IN THE UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + ON THE VERGE OF THE UNDERWORLD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + IN PRISONS OFT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + UNEMPLOYED AND UNEMPLOYABLE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + SUGGESTIONS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + </h2> + <p> + The odds and ends of humanity, so plentiful in London's great city, have + for many years largely constituted my circle of friends and acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + They are strange people, for each of them is, or was, possessed of some + dominating vice, passion, whim or weakness which made him incapable of + fulfilling the ordinary duties of respectable citizenship. + </p> + <p> + They had all descended from the Upper World, to live out strange lives, or + die early deaths in the mysterious but all pervading world below the line. + </p> + <p> + Some of them I saw, as it were, for a moment only; suddenly out of the + darkness they burst upon me; suddenly the darkness again received them out + of my sight. + </p> + <p> + But our acquaintance was of sufficient duration to allow me to acquire + some knowledge, and to gain some experience of lives more than strange, + and of characters far removed from the ordinary. + </p> + <p> + But with others I spent many hours, months, or years as circumstances + warranted, or as opportunities permitted. Some of them became my + intimates; and though seven long years have passed since I gave up + police-court duties, our friendship bears the test of time, for they + remain my friends and acquaintances still. + </p> + <p> + But some have passed away, and others are passing; one by one my list of + friends grows less, and were it not that I, even now, pick up a new friend + or two, I should run the risk of being a lonely old man. Let me confess, + however, that my friends have brought me many worries, have caused me much + disappointment, have often made me very angry. Sometimes, I must own, they + have caused me real sorrow and occasionally feelings of utter despair. But + I have had my compensations, we have had our happy times, we have even + known our merry moments. + </p> + <p> + Though pathos has permeated all our intercourse, humour and comedy have + never been far away; though sometimes tragedy has been in waiting. + </p> + <p> + But over one and all of my friends hung a great mystery, a mystery that + always puzzled and sometimes paralysed me, a mystery that always set me to + thinking. + </p> + <p> + Now many of my friends were decent and good-hearted fellows; yet they were + outcasts. Others were intelligent, clever and even industrious, quite + capable of holding their own with respectable men, still they were + helpless. + </p> + <p> + Others were fastidiously honest in some things, yet they were persistent + rogues who could not see the wrong or folly of dishonesty; many of them + were clear-headed in ninety-nine directions, but in the hundredth they + were muddled if not mentally blind. + </p> + <p> + Others had known and appreciated the comforts of refined life, yet they + were happy and content amidst the horror and dirt of a common + lodging-house! Why was it that these fellows failed, and were content to + fail in life? + </p> + <p> + What is that little undiscovered something that determines their lives and + drives them from respectable society? + </p> + <p> + What compensations do they get for all the suffering and privations they + undergo? I don't know! I wish that I did! but these things I have never + been able to discover. + </p> + <p> + Many times I have put the questions to myself; many times I have put the + questions to my friends, who appear to know about as much and just as + little upon the matter as myself. + </p> + <p> + They do not realise that in reality they do differ from ordinary citizens; + I realise the difference, but can find no reason for it. + </p> + <p> + No! it is not drink, although a few of them were dipsomaniacs, for + generally they were sober men. + </p> + <p> + I will own my ignorance, and say that I do not know what that little + something is that makes a man into a criminal instead of constituting him + into a hero. This I do know: that but for the possession of a little + something, many of my friends, now homeless save when they are in prison, + would be performing life's duties in settled and comfortable homes, and + would be quite as estimable citizens as ordinary people. + </p> + <p> + Probably they would prove better citizens than the majority of people, for + while they possess some inherent weakness, they also possess in a great + degree many estimable qualities which are of little use in their present + life. + </p> + <p> + These friends of mine not only visit my office and invade my home, but + they turn up at all sorts of inconvenient times and places.—There is + my friend the dipsomaniac, the pocket Hercules, the man of brain and iron + constitution. + </p> + <p> + Year after year he holds on to his own strange course, neither poverty nor + prison, delirium tremens nor physical injuries serve to alter him. He + occupies a front seat at a men's meeting on Sunday afternoon when the + bills announce my name. But he comes half drunk and in a talkative mood, + sometimes in a contradictory mood, but generally good tempered. He + punctuates my speech with a loud and emphatic "Hear! hear!" and often + informs the audience that "what Mr. Holmes says is quite true!" The + attendants cannot keep him silent, he tells them that he is my friend; he + makes some claim to being my patron. + </p> + <p> + Poor fellow! I speak to him kindly, but incontinently give him the slip, + for I retire by a back way, leaving him to argue my disappearance in no + friendly spirit with the attendants. Yet I have spent many happy hours + with him when, as sometimes happened, he was "in his right mind." + </p> + <p> + I, would like to dwell on the wonders of this man's strange and fearsome + life, but I hasten on to tell of a contrast, for my friends present many + contrasts. + </p> + <p> + I was hurrying down crowded Bishopsgate at lunch time, lost in thought, + when I felt my hand grasped and a well-known voice say, "Why! Mr. Holmes, + don't you know me?" + </p> + <p> + Know him! I should think I do know him; I am proud to know him, for I + venerate him. He is only a french polisher and by no means handsome, his + face is furrowed and seamed by care and sorrow, his hands and clothing are + stained with varnish. Truly he is not much to look at, but if any one + wants an embodiment of pluck and devotion, of never-failing patience and + magnificent love, in my friend you shall find it! + </p> + <p> + Born in the slums, he sold matches at seven years of age; at eight he was + in an industrial school; his father was dead, his mother a drunkard; home + he had none! + </p> + <p> + Leaving school at sixteen he became first a gardener's assistant, then a + gentleman's servant; in this occupation he saved some money with which he + apprenticed himself to french polishing. From apprentice to journeyman, + from journeyman to business on his own account, were successive steps; he + married, and that brought him among my many acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + He had a nice home, and two beautiful children, and then that great + destroyer of home life, drink! had to be reckoned with. So he came to + consult me. She was a beautiful and cultured woman and full of remorse. + </p> + <p> + The stained hands of the french polisher trembled as he signed a document + by which he agreed to pay L1 per week for his wife's maintenance in an + inebriate home for twelve months where she might have her babe with her. + Bravely he did his part, and at the end of the year he brought her back to + a new and better home, where the neighbours knew nothing of her past. + </p> + <p> + For twelve months there was joy in the home, and then a new life came into + it; but with the babe came a relapse; the varnish-stained man was again at + his wits' end. Once more she entered a home, for another year he worked + and toiled to pay the charges, and again he provided a new home. And she + came back to a house that he had bought for her in a new neighbourhood; + they now lived close to me, and my house was open to them. The story of + the following years cannot be told, for she almost ruined him. Night after + night after putting the children to bed, he searched the streets and + public-houses for her; sometimes I went with him. She pawned his clothes, + the children's clothing, and even the boy's fiddle. He cleaned the house, + he cooked the food, he cared for the children, he even washed and ironed + their clothing on Saturday evening for the coming Sunday. He marked all + the clothing, he warned all the pawnbrokers. At length he obtained a + separation order, but tearing it up he again took her home with him. She + went from bad to worse; even down to the deepest depths and thence to a + rescue home. He fetched her out, and they disappeared from my + neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + So I lost them and often wondered what the end had been. To-day he was + smiling; he had with him a youth of twenty, a scholarship boy, the + violinist. He said, "I am just going to pay for his passage to Canada; he + is going to be the pioneer, and perhaps we shall all join him, she will do + better in a new country!" On further inquiry I found that she was trying + hard, and doing better than when I lost them. + </p> + <p> + Thinking she needed greater interest in life, he had bought a small + business for her, but "Mr. Holmes, she broke down!" + </p> + <p> + Alas! I knew what "breaking down" meant to the poor fellow, the heroic + fellow I ought to have said. And so for her he will leave his kindred, + home and friends; he will forsake the business that he has so slowly and + laboriously built up, he will sacrifice anything in the hope that the air + of Canada "will do her good." let us hope that it may, for her good is all + he lives for, and her good is his religion. + </p> + <p> + Twenty years of heartbreaking misery have not killed his love or withered + his hope. Surely love like his cannot fail of its reward. And maybe in the + new world he will have the happiness that has been denied him in the old + world, and in the evening of his life he may have the peaceful calm that + has hitherto been denied him. For this he is seeking a place in the new + world where the partner of his life and the desire of his eyes may not + find it easy to yield to her besetting temptation, where the air and his + steadfast love will "do her good." + </p> + <p> + But all my acquaintances are not heroes, for I am sorry to say that my old + friend Downy has served his term of penal servitude, and is at liberty + once more to beg or steal. He is not ashamed to beg, but I know that he + prefers stealing, for he richly enjoys anything obtained "on the cross," + and cares little for the fruits of honest labour. + </p> + <p> + Downy therefore never crosses my doorstep, and when I hold communication + with him he stands on the doorstep where I bar his entrance. + </p> + <p> + Yet I like the vagabond, for he is a humorous rascal, and though I know + that I ought to be severe with him, I fail dismally when I try to exhort + him. "Now, look here, old man," he will say, "stop preaching; what are you + going to do to help a fellow; do you think I live this life for fun" and + his eyes twinkle! When I tell him that I am sure of it, he roars. Yes, I + am certain of it, Downy is a thief for the fun of it; he is the worst and + cleverest sneak I have the privilege of knowing; and yet there is such + audacity about him and his actions that even his most reprehensible deeds + do not disgust me. + </p> + <p> + He is of the spare and lean kind, but were he fatter he might well pose as + a modern Jack Falstaff, for his one idea is summed up in Falstaff's words: + "Where shall we take a purse to-night?" Downy, of course, obtained full + remission of his sentence; he did all that was required of him in prison, + and so reduced his five years' sentence by fifteen months. But I feel + certain that he did nor spend three years and nine months in a convict + establishment without robbing a good many, and the more difficult he found + the task, the more he would enjoy it. + </p> + <p> + I expect his education is now complete, so I have to beware of Downy, for + he would glory in the very thought of "besting" me, so I laugh and joke + with the rascal, but keep him at arm's length. We discuss matters on the + doorstep; if he looks ill I have pity on him, and subsidise him. Sometimes + his merry look changes to a half-pathetic look, and he goes away to his + "doss house," realising that after all his "besting" he might have done + better. + </p> + <p> + Some of my friends have crossed the river, but as I think of them they + come back and bid me tell their stories. Here is my old friend the famous + chess-player, whose books are the poetry of chess, but whose life was more + than a tragedy. I need not say where I met him; his face was bruised and + swollen, his jawbone was fractured, he was in trouble, so we became + friends. He was a strange fellow, and though he visited my house many + times, he would neither eat nor drink with us. He wore no overcoat even in + the most bitter weather, he carried no umbrella, neither would he walk + under one, though the rains descended and the floods came! + </p> + <p> + He was a fatalist pure and simple, and took whatever came to him in a + thoroughly fatalist spirit. "My dear Holmes," he would say, "why do you + break your heart about me? Let me alone, let us be friends; you are what + you are because you can't help it; you can't be anything else even if you + tried. I am what I am for the same reason. You get your happiness, I get + mine. Do me a good turn when you can, but don't reason with me; let us + enjoy each other's company and take things as they are." + </p> + <p> + I took him on his own terms; I saw much of him, and when he was in + difficulties I helped him out. + </p> + <p> + For a time I became his keeper, and when he had chess engagements to + fulfil I used to deliver him carriage paid to his destination wherever it + might be. He always and most punctiliously repaid any monetary obligation + I had conferred upon him, for in that respect I found him the soul of + honour, poor though he was! As I think of him I see him dancing and + yelling in the street, surrounded by a crowd of admiring East Enders, I + see him bruised and torn hurried off to the police station, I see him + standing before the magistrate awaiting judgment. What compensation + dipsomania gave him I know not, but that he did get some kind of wild joy + I am quite sure. For I see him feverish from one debauch, but equally + feverish with the expectation of another. + </p> + <p> + With his wife it was another story, and I can see her now full of anxiety + and dread, with no relief and no hope, except, dreadful as it may seem, + his death! For then, to use her own expression, "she would know the + worst." Poor fellow! the last time I saw him he was nearing the end. In an + underground room I sat by his bedside, and a poor bed it was! + </p> + <p> + As he lay propped up by pillows he was working away at his beloved chess, + writing chess notes, and solving and explaining problems for very + miserable payments. + </p> + <p> + I knew the poverty of that underground room; and was made acquainted with + the intense disappointment of both husband and wife when letters were + received that did not contain the much-desired postal orders. And so + passed a genius; but a dipsomaniac! A man of brilliant parts and a fellow + of infinite jest, who never did justice to his great powers, but who + crowded a continuous succession of tragedies into a short life. I am glad + to think that I did my best for him, even though I failed. He has gone! + but he still has a place in my affections and occupies a niche in the hall + of my memory. + </p> + <p> + I very much doubt whether I am able to forget any one of the pieces of + broken humanity that have companied with me. I do not want to forget them, + for truth to tell they have been more interesting to me than merely + respectable people, and infinitely more interesting than some good people. + </p> + <p> + But I am afraid that my tastes are bad, and my ideals low, for I am always + happier among the very poor or the outcasts than I am with the decent and + well behaved. + </p> + <p> + A fellow named Reid has been calling on me repeatedly; an Australian by + birth, he outraged the law so often that he got a succession of sentences, + some of them being lengthy. He tried South Africa with a like result; + South Africa soon had enough of him, and after two sentences he was + deported to England, where he looked me up. + </p> + <p> + He carries with him in a nice little case a certified and attested copy of + all his convictions, more than twenty in number. He produces this without + the least shame, almost with pride, and with the utmost confidence that it + would prove a ready passport to my affection. + </p> + <p> + I talk to him; he tells me of his life, of Australia and South Africa; he + almost hypnotises me, for he knows so much. We get on well together till + he produces the "attested copy," and then the spell is broken, and the + humour of it is too much for me, so I laugh. + </p> + <p> + He declares that he wants work, honest work, and he considers that his + "certificate" vouches for his bona fides. This is undoubtedly true, but + nevertheless I expect that it will be chiefly responsible for his free + passage back to Australia after he has sampled the quality of English + prisons. + </p> + <p> + My friends and acquaintances meet me or rather I meet them, in undesirable + places; I never visit a prison without coming across one or more of them, + and they embarrass me greatly. + </p> + <p> + A few Sundays ago I was addressing a large congregation of men in a London + prison. As I stood before them I was dismayed to see right in the front + rank an old and persistent acquaintance whom I thoroughly and absolutely + disliked, and he knew it, for on more than one occasion I had good reason + for expressing a decided opinion about him. A smile of gleeful but + somewhat mischievous satisfaction spread over his face; he folded his arms + across his breast, he looked up at me and quite held me with his + glittering eye. + </p> + <p> + I realised his presence, I felt that his eye was upon me, I saw that he + followed every word. He quite unnerved me till I stumbled and tripped. + Then he smiled in his evil way. + </p> + <p> + I could not get rid of his eyes, and sometimes I half appealed to him with + a pitiful look to take them off me. But it was no use, he still gazed at + me and through me. So thinking of him and looking at him I grew more and + more confused. + </p> + <p> + The clock fingers would not move fast enough for me. I had elected to + speak on sympathy, brotherhood and mutual help. And this fellow to whom I + had refused help again and again knew my feelings, and made the most of + his opportunity. + </p> + <p> + But my friend will come and see me when he is once more out of prison. He + will want to discuss my address of that particular Sunday afternoon. He + will quote my words, he will remind me about sympathy and mutual help, he + will hope to leave me rejoicing in the possession of a few shillings. + </p> + <p> + But that will be the hour of my triumph; for then I will rejoice in the + contemplation of his disappointment as my door closes upon him. But if I + understand him aright his personal failure will not lead him to despair, + for he will appear again and again and sometimes by deputy, and he will + put others as cunning as himself on my track. + </p> + <p> + Some time ago I was tormented with a succession of visitors of this + description; my door was hardly free of one when another appeared. They + all told the same tale: "they had been advised to come to me, for I was + kind to men who had been in prison." + </p> + <p> + They got no practical kindness from me, but rather some wholesome advice. + I found afterwards from a lodging-house habitue that this man had been + taking his revenge by distributing written copies of my name and address + to all the lodging-house inmates, and advising them to call on me. And I + have not the slightest doubt that the rascal watched them come to my door, + enjoyed their disappointment, and gloried in my irritation. + </p> + <p> + Yes, I have made the acquaintance of many undesirable fellows, and our + introduction to each other has sometimes been brought about in a very + strange manner. Sometimes they have forced themselves upon me and insisted + upon my seeing much of them, and "knowing all about them" they would tell + me of their struggles and endeavours to "go straight" and would put their + difficulties and hopes before me. Specious clever rascals many of them + were, far too clever for me, as I sometimes found out to my cost. One + young fellow who has served a well-earned and richly merited sentence of + five years' penal servitude, quite overpowered me with his good intentions + and professions of rectitude. "No more prison for me," he would say; he + brought his wife and children to see me, feeling sure that they would form + a passport to my sympathy and pocket. + </p> + <p> + He was not far wrong, for I substantially and regularly helped the wife. I + had strong misgivings about the fellow, consequently what help I gave I + took care went direct to his wife. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes he would call at my office, and with tears would thank me for + the help given to his wife and children. I noticed a continual improvement + in his clothing and appearance till he became quite a swell. I felt a bit + uneasy, for I knew that he was not at work. I soon discovered, or rather + the police discovered that he had stolen a lot of my office note-paper of + which he had made free use, and when arrested on another charge several + blank cheques which had been abstracted from my cheque book were found + upon him. He had made himself so well known to and familiar with the + caretaker of the chambers, that one night when he appeared with a bag of + tools to put "Mr. Holmes' desk right," no questions were asked, and he + coolly and quite deliberately, with the office door open, operated in his + own sweet way. Fortunately, when trying the dodge in another set of + chambers, he was arrested in the act, and my blank cheques among many + others were found upon him. + </p> + <p> + Another term of penal servitude has stopped his career and put an end to, + I will not say a friendship but an acquaintance, that I am not at any rate + anxious to renew. + </p> + <p> + They come a long way to see me do some of my friends, and put themselves + to some trouble in the matter, and not a little expense if they are to be + believed. Why they do so I cannot imagine, for sometimes after a long and + close questioning I fail to find any satisfactory reason for their doing + so. I have listened to many strange stories, and have received not a few + startling confessions! Some of my friends have gone comforted away when + they had made a clean breast and circumstantially given me the details of + some great crime or evil that they had committed. I never experienced any + difficulty, or felt the least compunction in granting them plenary + absolution; I never betrayed them to the police, for I knew that of the + crime confessed they were as guiltless as myself. Of course there is a + good deal of pathos about their actions, but I always felt a glow of + pleasure when I could send poor deluded people away comforted; and I am + sure that they really believed me when I told them that under no + circumstances would I betray their confidence, or acquaint the police + without first consulting them. I never had any difficulty in keeping my + promise, though sometimes my friends would, after a long absence, remind + me of it. + </p> + <p> + But occasionally one of my friends has compelled me to seek the advice of + an astute detective, for very clever rogues, real and dangerous criminals, + have been my companions and have boasted of my friendship, whilst pursuing + a deplorably criminal course. But I never had the slightest compunction + with regard to them when I knew beyond doubt what they were at. Friends + and associates of criminals have more than once waited on me for the + purpose of enlisting my sympathy and help for one of their colleagues who + was about to be released from prison, and the vagabonds have actually + informed detectives that "Mr. Holmes was going to take him in hand." What + they really meant was, that they had taken Mr. Holmes in hand for the + purpose of lulling the just suspicions of the police. One day not long ago + a woman, expensively dressed and possessed of a whole mass of flaxen hair, + burst into my office. She was very excited, spoke good English with an + altogether exaggerated French accent, and her action was altogether + grotesque and stereotyped. She informed me that she had that morning come + from Paris to consult me. When I inquired what she knew about me and how + she got my address, she said that a well-known journalist and a member of + Parliament whom she had met in Paris had advised her to consult with me + about the future of a man shortly to be discharged from prison. As during + the whole of my life I had not met or corresponded with the brilliant + gentleman she referred to, I felt doubtful, but kept silent. So on she + went with her story, first, however, offering me a sum of money for the + benefit of as consummate a villain as ever inhabited a prison cell. + </p> + <p> + I declined the money and refused to have anything to do with the matter + till I had had further information. Briefly her story was as follows: The + man in whom she and others were interested was serving a term of three + years for burglary. He was an educated man, married, and father of two + children. His wife loved him dearly, and his two children were "pretty, + oh, so pretty!" They were afraid that his wife would receive him back + again with open arms, and that other children might result. They were + anxious that this should be prevented, for they felt, she was sorry to + say, that he might again revert to crime, that other imprisonments might + ensue, and that "the poor, poor little thing," meaning the wife, might be + exposed to more and worse suffering than she had already undergone. + </p> + <p> + Would I receive a sum of money on his account and arrange for him to leave + England? They felt that to be the wisest course, for "he is so clever, and + can soon build up a home for her when he is away from his companions." Of + his ability I had subsequently plenty of proof, and I have no reason to + doubt her statement that he could soon "build up a home." He could very + quickly—and a luxurious home, too! + </p> + <p> + The wife was not to be considered at all in the matter, but money would be + sent to me from time to time to help the "poor little thing and her + children!" I was interested, but I said to myself, "This is much too + good," and the ready journey from Paris rather staggered me. I put a few + simple questions, she pledged me to secrecy. I told her that I would ask + the prison authorities to send him to me on his discharge. + </p> + <p> + "I so please, I now go back to Paris; I come again and I bring you money," + she said, as she shook her furs and took herself and her flaxen hair to + somewhere else than Paris, so I felt persuaded. + </p> + <p> + Two days before the prisoner's discharge she burst in again, huffy head, + furs and gesticulation as before. "I come from Paris this morning, I bring + you money." I was not present, but I had previously warned my assistant + not to receive any money. The gay Parisian was informed that no money + could be received, but she promptly put two sovereigns on the desk and + disappeared—-but not to Paris! + </p> + <p> + He stood before me at last, a little fellow, smart looking, erect, + self-satisfied and self-reliant. I told him of the two sovereigns and the + fluffy hair, of the good intentions of his Parisian friend. I spoke + hopefully of a new life in a new country and of the future of his wife and + children; he never blanched. He was quite sure he knew no French lady with + fluffy hair; he had no friends, no accomplices; he wanted work, honest + work; he intended to make amends for the past; he "would build up a home" + for his wife and children. + </p> + <p> + I saw much of him; we lunched together and we smoked together, and he + talked a good deal. His wife fell ill owing to very hard work, and I + befriended her. He accepted the two pounds and asked for more! He was a + citizen of the world, and spoke more than one language. Our companionship + continued for some months, and then my friend and myself had to sever our + connection. + </p> + <p> + He was one of a gang of very clever thieves, who operated on a large + scale, and who for cool audacity and originality were, I think, almost + unequalled! + </p> + <p> + They engaged expensive suites of rooms or flats, furnished them most + expensively on credit or the hire system, insured the goods against + burglary, promptly burgled themselves, sold the goods, realised the + insurance, and then vanished to repeat their proceedings elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + So clever were they at the business that costly but portable goods were + freely submitted to their tender mercies. They invariably engaged rooms + that possessed a "skylight." It was my friend's business to do the + burgling, and this he did by carefully removing the glass from the + skylight, being careful not to break it; needless to say, he removed the + glass from the inside and carefully deposited it on the roof, the + valuables making their exit through the room door and down the staircase + in broad daylight. + </p> + <p> + My friend, who spoke Dutch fluently and accurately, has, I understood, + sold to English merchants whose probity was beyond dispute the proceeds of + some of his "firm's" operations. This game went on for a time, the + Parisian lady with the false hair being one of the confederates. He + disappeared, however, and I am glad to think that for some considerable + time society will be safeguarded from the woman with the flaxen hair, and + the operations of a clever scoundrel. + </p> + <p> + I am glad to say that the number of my friends and acquaintances who have + seriously tried to "best" me form but a small proportion of the whole. + Generally they have, I believe, been animated with good intentions, though + the failure to carry them out has frequently been manifest and deplorable. + </p> + <p> + I am persuaded that weakness is more disastrous to the world than absolute + wickedness, for nothing in the whole of my life's experience has taken + more out of me, and given me so much heartbreaking disappointment as my + continued efforts on behalf of really well-intentioned individuals, who + could not stand alone owing to their lack of grit and moral backbone. For + redemptive purposes I would rather, a hundred times rather, have to deal + with a big sinner than with a human jellyfish, a flabby man who does no + great wrong, but on the other hand does not the slightest good. + </p> + <p> + But, as I have already said, though all my friends and acquaintances were + dwellers in a dark land, not all of them were "known to the police"; + indeed, many of them ought to be classified as "known to the angels," for + their real goodness has again and again rebuked and inspired me. + </p> + <p> + Oh the patience, fortitude and real heroism I have met with in my + acquaintances among the poor. Strength in time of trial, virtue amidst + obscenity, suffering long drawn out and perpetual self-denial are + characteristics that abound in many of my poorest friends, and in some of + the chapters that are to follow I shall tell more fully of them, but just + now I am amongst neither sinners nor saints, but with my friends "in + motley." I mean the men and women who have occupied so much of my time and + endeavours, but whose position I knew was hopeless. + </p> + <p> + How they interested me, those demented friends of mine! they were a + perpetual wonder to me, and I am glad to remember that I never passed hard + judgment upon them, or gave them hard words. And I owe much to them, a + hundred times more than the whole of them are indebted to me; for I found + that I could not take an interest in any one of them, nor make any + fruitless, any perhaps foolish effort to truly help them, without doing + myself more good than I could possibly have done to them. Fifteen years I + stood by, and stood up for demented Jane Cakebread, and we became + inseparably connected. She abused me right royally, and her power of + invective was superb. When she was not in prison she haunted my house and + annoyed my neighbours. She patronised me most graciously when she accepted + a change of clothing from me; she lived in comparative luxury when I + provided lodgings for her; she slept out of doors when I did not. + </p> + <p> + She bestowed her affections on me and made me heir to her non-existent + fortune; she proposed marriage to me, although she frequently met and + admired my good wife. All this and more, year after year! + </p> + <p> + Poor old Jane! I owe much to her, and I am quite willing, nay, anxious, to + say that in a great measure Jane Cakebread was the making of Thomas + Holmes. + </p> + <p> + Years have passed since we laid Jane gently to rest, but she comes back to + me and dominates me whenever I mentally call my old friends together. Her + voice is the loudest, her speech the most voluble, and her manner the most + assertive of all my motley friends. They are all gathering around me as I + write. My friend who teaches music by colour is here, my friend with his + secret invention that will dispense with steam and electricity is here + too; "Little Ebbs" the would-be policeman is here too; the prima donna + whose life was more than a tragedy, the architect with his wonderful but + never accepted designs, the broken artist with his pictures, the educated + but non-sober lady who could convert plaster models into marble statuary + are all with me. The unspeakably degraded parson smoking cigarettes, his + absence of shirt hidden by a rusty cassock, lolls in my easy-chair; my + burglar friend who had "done" forty years and was still asking for more, + they are all around me! And my dipsomaniac friends have come too! I hear + them talking and arguing, when a strident voice calls out, "No arguing! no + arguing! argument spoils everything!" and Jane stops the talk of others by + occupying the platform herself and recites a chapter from the book of Job. + I am living it all over again! + </p> + <p> + And now troop in my suffering friends. Here is the paralysed woman of + thirty-five who has for twenty years lain in bed the whiles her sister has + worked incessantly to maintain her! Here is my widow friend who after + working fifteen hours daily for years was dragged from the Lea. As she + sits and listens her hands are making matchboxes and throwing them over + her shoulder, one, two, three, four! right, left! they go to the imaginary + heaps upon the imaginary beds. While blighted children are crawling upon + the floor looking up at me with big eyes. Here is my patient old friend + who makes "white flowers" although she is eighty years of age, and still + keeps at it, though, thank God, she gets the old-age pension. + </p> + <p> + Now come in the young men and maidens, the blighted blossoms of humanity + who wither and die before the time of fruition, for that fell disease + consumption has laid its deadly hand upon them. + </p> + <p> + Oh! the mystery of it all, the sorrow and madness of it all! I open my + door and they file out. Some back to the unseen world, some back to the + lower depths of this world! Surely they are a motley lot, are my friends + and acquaintances; they are as varied as humanity itself. So they + represent to me all the moods and tenses of humanity, all its personal, + social and industrial problems. I have a pitiful heart; I try to keep a + philosophic mind; I am cheery with them; I am doubtful, I am hopeful! + </p> + <p> + I never give help feeling sure that I have done wisely, I never refuse the + worst and feel sure that I have done well. I live near the heart of + humanity, I count its heart-beats, I hear its throbs. + </p> + <p> + I realise some of the difficulties that beset us, I see some of the + heights and depths to which humanity can ascend or descend. I have learned + that the greatest factors in life are kindly sympathy, brotherly love, a + willingness to believe the best of the worst, and to have an infinite + faith in the ultimate triumph of good! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + London's great underworld to many may be an undiscovered country. To me it + is almost as familiar as my own fireside; twenty-five years of my life + have been spent amongst its inhabitants, and their lives and circumstances + have been my deep concern. + </p> + <p> + Sad and weary many of those years have been, but always full of absorbing + interest. Yet I have found much that gave me pleasure, and it is no + exaggeration when I say that some of my happiest hours have been spent + among the poorest inhabitants of the great underworld. + </p> + <p> + But whether happy or sorrowful, I was always interested, for the strange + contrasts and the ever-varying characteristics and lives of the + inhabitants always compelled attention, interest and thought. There is + much in this underworld to terrorise, but there is also much to inspire. + </p> + <p> + Horrible speech and strange tongues are heard in it, accents of sorrow and + bursts of angry sound prevail in it. + </p> + <p> + Drunkenness, debauchery, crime and ignorance are never absent; and in it + men and women grown old in sin and crime spend their last evil days. The + whining voice of the professional mendicant is ever heard in its streets, + for its poverty-stricken inhabitants readily respond to every appeal for + help. + </p> + <p> + So it is full of contrasts; for everlasting toil goes on, and the hum of + industry ever resounds. Magnificent self-reliance is continually + exhibited, and self-denial of no mean order is the rule. + </p> + <p> + The prattle of little children and the voice of maternal love make sweet + music in its doleful streets, and glorious devotion dignifies and + illumines the poorest homes. + </p> + <p> + But out of the purlieus of this netherworld strange beings issue when the + shades of evening fall. + </p> + <p> + Men whose hands are against every man come forth to deeds of crime, like + beasts to seek their prey! Women, fearsome creatures, whose steps lead + down to hell, to seek their male companions. + </p> + <p> + Let us stand and watch! + </p> + <p> + Here comes a poor, smitten, wretched old man; see how he hugs the rags of + his respectability; his old frayed frock-coat is buttoned tightly around + him, and his outstretched hands tell that he is eager for the least boon + that pity can bestow. He has found that the way of the transgressor is + hard; he has kissed the bloom of pleasure's painted lips, he has found + them pale as death! + </p> + <p> + But others follow, and hurry by. And a motley lot they are; figure and + speech, complexion and dress all combine to create dismay; but they have + all one common characteristic. They want money! and are not particular + about the means of getting it. Now issue forth an innumerable band who + during the day have been sleeping off the effects of last night's debauch. + With eager steps, droughty throats and keen desire they seek the wine cup + yet again. + </p> + <p> + Now come fellows, young and middle-aged, who dare not be seen by day, for + whom the police hold "warrants," for they have absconded from wives and + children, leaving them chargeable to the parish. + </p> + <p> + Here are men who have robbed their employers, here young people of both + sexes who have drained Circe's cup and broken their parents' hearts. + </p> + <p> + Surely it is a strange and heterogeneous procession that issues evening by + evening from the caves and dens of London's underworld. But notice there + is also a returning procession! For as the sun sinks to rest, sad-faced + men seek some cover where they may lie down and rest their weary bones; + where perchance they may sleep and regain some degree of passive courage + that will enable them, at the first streak of morning light, to rise and + begin again a disheartening round of tramp, tramp, searching for work that + is everlastingly denied them. Hungry and footsore, their souls fainting + within them, they seek the homes where wives and children await their + return with patient but hopeless resignation. + </p> + <p> + Take notice if you will of the places they enter, for surely the beautiful + word "home" is desecrated if applied to most of their habitations. Horrid + places within and without, back to back and face to face they stand. + </p> + <p> + At their doorway death stands ready to strike. In the murky light of + little rooms filled with thick air child-life has struggled into + existence; up and down their narrow stairs patient endurance and passive + hopelessness ever pass and repass. + </p> + <p> + Small wonder that the filthy waters of a neighbouring canal woo and + receive so many broken hearts and emaciated bodies. + </p> + <p> + But the procession now changes its sex, for weary widowed women are + returning to children who for many hours have been lacking a mother's + care, for mothers in the underworld must work if children must eat. + </p> + <p> + So the weary widows have been at the wash-tubs all day long, and are + coming home with two shillings hardly earned. They call in at the dirty + general shop, where margarine, cheese, bread, tinned meat and firewood are + closely commingled in the dank air. + </p> + <p> + A loaf, a pennyworth of margarine, a pennyworth of tea, a bundle of + firewood, half a pound of sugar, a pint of lamp-oil exhaust their list of + purchases, for the major part of their earnings is required for the rent. + </p> + <p> + So they climb their stairs, they feed the children, put them unwashed to + bed, do some necessary household work, and then settle down themselves in + some shape, without change of attire, that they may rest and be ready for + the duties of the ensuing day. Perhaps sweet oblivion will come even to + them. "Blessings on the man who invented sleep," cried Sancho Panza, and + there is a world of truth in his ecstatic exclamation, "it wraps him round + like a garment." + </p> + <p> + Aye, that it does, for what would the poor weary women and men of London's + underworld do without it? What would the sick and suffering be without it? + In tiny rooms where darkness is made visible by penny-worths of oil burned + in cheap and nasty lamps, there is no lack of pain and suffering, and no + lack of patient endurance and passive heroism. + </p> + <p> + As night closes in and semi-darkness reigns around, when the streets are + comparatively silent, when children's voices are no longer heard, come + with me and explore! + </p> + <p> + It is one o'clock a.m., and we go down six steps into what is facetiously + termed a "breakfast parlour"; here we find a man and woman about sixty + years of age. The woman is seated at a small table on which stands a + small, evil-smelling lamp, and the man is seated at another small table, + but gets no assistance from the lamp; he works in comparative gloom, for + he is almost blind; he works by touch. + </p> + <p> + For fifty years they have been makers of artificial flowers; both are + clever artists, and the shops of the West End have fairly blazed with the + glory of their roses. Winsome lassie's and serene ladies have made + themselves gay with their flowers. + </p> + <p> + There they sit, as they have sat together for thirty years. Neither can + read or write, but what can be done in flowers they can do. Long hours and + dark rooms have made the man almost blind. + </p> + <p> + He suffers also from heart disease and dropsy. He cannot do much, but he + can sit, and sit, while his wife works and works, for in the underworld + married women must work if dying husbands are to be cared for. + </p> + <p> + So for fifteen hours daily and nightly they sit at their roses! Then they + lie down on the bed we see in the corner, but sleep does not come, for + asthma troubles him, and he must be attended and nursed. + </p> + <p> + Shall we pay another visit to that underworld room? Come, then. Two months + have passed away, the evil-smelling lamp is still burning, the woman still + sits at the table, but no rose-leaves are before her; she is making black + tulips. On the bed lies a still form with limbs decently smoothed and + composed; the poor blind eyes are closed for ever. He is awaiting the day + of burial, and day after day the partner of his life and death is sitting, + and working, for in this underworld bereaved wives must work if husbands + are to be decently buried. The black tulips she will wear as mourning for + him; she will accompany his poor body to the cemetery, and then return to + live alone and to finish her work alone. + </p> + <p> + But let us continue our midnight explorations, heedless of the men and + women now returning from their nightly prowl who jostle us as they pass. + </p> + <p> + We enter another room where the air is thick and makes us sick and faint. + We stand at the entrance and look around; we see again the evil-smelling + lamp, and again a woman at work at a small table, and she too is a widow! + </p> + <p> + She is making cardboard boxes, and pretty things they are. Two beds are in + the room, and one contains three, and the other two children. On the beds + lie scores of dainty boxes. The outside parts lie on one bed, and the + insides on the other. They are drying while the children sleep; by and by + they will be put together, tied in dozens, and next morning taken to the + factory. But of their future history we dare not inquire. + </p> + <p> + The widow speaks to us, but her hands never rest; we notice the celerity + of her movements, the dreadful automatic certainty of her touch is almost + maddening; we wait and watch, but all in vain, for some false movement + that shall tell us she is a human and not a machine. But no, over her + shoulder to the bed on the left side, or over her shoulder to the bed on + her right side, the boxes fly, and minute by minute and hour by hour the + boxes will continue to grow till her task is completed. Then she will put + them together, tie them in dozens, and lay herself down on that bed that + contains the two children. + </p> + <p> + Need we continue? I think not, but it may give wings to imagination when I + say that in London's underworld there are at least 50,000 women whose + earnings do not exceed three halfpence per hour, and who live under + conditions similar to those described. Working, working, day and night, + when they have work to do, practically starving when work is scarce. + </p> + <p> + The people of the underworld are not squeamish, they talk freely, and as a + matter of course about life and death. Their children are at an early age + made acquainted with both mysteries; a dead child and one newly born + sometimes occupy a room with other children. + </p> + <p> + People tell me of the idleness of the underworld and there is plenty of + it; but what astonishes me is the wonderful, the persistent, but almost + unrewarded toil that is unceasingly going on, in which even infants share. + </p> + <p> + Come again with me in the day-time, climb with me six dark and greasy + flights of stairs, for the underworld folk are sometimes located near the + sky. + </p> + <p> + In this Bastille the passages are very narrow, and our shoulders sometimes + rub the slimy moisture from the walls. On every landing in the + semi-darkness we perceive galleries running to right and to left. On the + little balconies, one on every floor, children born in this Bastille are + gasping for air through iron bars. + </p> + <p> + There are three hundred suites of box rooms in this Bastille, which means + that three hundred families live like ants in it. Let us enter No. 250. + Time: 3.30 p.m. Here lives a blind matchbox-maker and his wife with their + seven children. The father has gone to take seven gross of boxes to the + factory, for the mother cannot easily climb up and down the stone stairs + of the Bastille. So she sits everlastingly at the boxes, the beds are + covered with them, the floor is covered with them, and the air is thick + with unpleasant moisture. + </p> + <p> + One, two, three, four, there they go over her shoulder to the bed or + floor; on the other side of the table sits a child of four, who, with all + the apathy of an adult if not with equal celerity, gums or pastes the + labels for his mother. The work must be "got in," and the child has been + kept at home to take his share in the family toil. + </p> + <p> + In this Bastille the children of the underworld live and die, for death + reaps here his richest harvest. Never mind! the funeral of one child is + only a pageant for others. Here women work and starve, and here childhood, + glorious childhood, is withered and stricken; but here, too, the wicked, + the vile, the outcast and the thief find sanctuary. + </p> + <p> + The strange mixture of it all bewilders me, fascinates me, horrifies me, + and yet sometimes it encourages me and almost inspires me. For I see that + suffering humanity possesses in no mean degree those three great + qualities, patience, fortitude and endurance. + </p> + <p> + For perchance these three qualities will feel and grope for a brighter + life and bring about a better day. + </p> + <p> + Though in all conscience funerals are numerous enough in this bit of the + underworld, and though the conditions are bad enough to destroy its + inhabitants, yet the people live on and on, for even death itself + sometimes seems reluctant to befriend them. + </p> + <p> + Surely there is nothing in the underworld so extraordinary as the defiance + flung in the face of death by its poor, feeble, ill-nourished, suffering + humanity. + </p> + <p> + According to every well-known rule they ought to die, and not to linger + upon the order of their dying. But linger they do, and in their lingering + exhibit qualities which ought to regenerate the whole race. It is + wonderful upon what a small amount of nourishment humanity can exist, and + still more wonderful under what conditions it can survive. + </p> + <p> + Shall we look in at a house that I know only too well? Come again, then! + </p> + <p> + Here sits an aged widow of sixty-four at work on infants' shoes, a + daughter about twenty-six is at work on infants' socks. Another daughter + two years older is lying on her back in an invalid's chair, and her deft + fingers are busily working, for although paralysis has taken legs, the + upper part of her body has been spared. The three live together and pool + their earnings; they occupy two very small rooms, for which they pay five + shillings weekly. + </p> + <p> + After paying twopence each to avoid parish funerals, they have five + shillings left weekly for food, firing, clothing and charity. Question + them, and you will learn how they expend those five shillings. "How much + butter do you allow yourselves during the week?" The widow answers: "Two + ounces of shilling butter once a week." "Yes, mother," says the invalid, + "on a Saturday." She knew the day of the week and the hour too, when her + eyes brightened at the sight of three-halfpenny worth of butter. Truly + they fared sumptuously on the Sabbath, for they tasted "shilling butter." + </p> + <p> + But they refuse to die, and I have not yet discovered the point at which + life ebbs out for lack of food, for when underworld folk die of starvation + we are comforted by the assurance that they died "from natural causes." + </p> + <p> + I suppose that if the four children all over eight years of age, belonging + to a widow machinist well known to me, had died, their death would have + been attributed to "natural causes." She had dined them upon one + pennyworth of stewed tapioca without either sugar or milk. Sometimes the + children had returned to school without even that insult to their craving + stomachs. But "natural causes" is the euphonious name given by intelligent + juries to starvation, when inquests are held in the underworld. Herein is + a mystery: in the land of plenty, whose granaries, depots, warehouses are + full to repletion, and whose countless ships are traversing every ocean, + bringing the food and fruits of the earth to its shores, starvation is + held to be a natural cause of death. + </p> + <p> + Here let me say, and at once, that the two widows referred to are but + specimens of a very large company, and that from among my own + acquaintances I can with a very short notice assemble one thousand women + whose lives are as pitiful, whose food is as limited, whose burdens are as + heavy, but whose hearts are as brave as those I have mentioned. + </p> + <p> + The more I know of these women and their circumstances, the more and still + more I am amazed. How they manage to live at all is a puzzle, but they do + live, and hang on to life like grim death itself. I believe I should long + for death were I placed under similar conditions to those my underworld + friends sustain without much complaining. + </p> + <p> + They have, of course, some interests in life, especially when the children + are young, but for themselves they are largely content to be, to do, and + to suffer. + </p> + <p> + Very simple and very limited are their ambitions; they are expressed in + the wish that their children may rise somehow or other from the world + below to the world above, where food is more plentiful and labour more + remunerative. But my admiration and love for the honest workers below the + line are leading me to forget the inhabitants that are far removed from + honesty, and to whom industry is a meaningless word. + </p> + <p> + There are many of them, and a mixed lot they are. The deformed, the + crippled and the half-witted abound. Rogues and rascals, brutes in human + form, and human forms that are harking back to the brute abound also. With + some we may sound the lowest depths, with others we may ascend to glorious + heights. This is the wonder of underworld. Some of its inhabitants have + come down, and are going lower still. Others are struggling with slippery + feet to ascend the inclined plane that leads to the world above. Some in + their misery are feebly hoping for a hand that will restore them to the + world they have for ever lost! + </p> + <p> + And there are others who find their joy in this netherworld! For here + every restraint may be abandoned and every decency may be outraged. Here + are men and women whose presence casts a blight upon everything fresh and + virtuous that comes near them. + </p> + <p> + Here the children grow old before their time, for like little cubs they + lie huddled upon each other when the time for sleep comes. Not for them + the pretty cot, the sweet pillow and clean sheets! but the small close + room, the bed or nest on the floor, the dirty walls and the thick air. + Born into it, breathing it as soon as their little lungs begin to operate, + thick, dirty air dominates their existence or terminates their lives. + </p> + <p> + "Glorious childhood" has no place here, to sweet girlhood it is fatal, and + brave boyhood stands but little chance. + </p> + <p> + Though here and there one and another rise superior to environment and + conditions, the great mass are robbed of the full stature of their bodies, + of their health, their brain power and their moral life. + </p> + <p> + But their loss is not the nation's gain, for the nation loses too! For the + nation erects huge buildings falsely called workhouses, tremendous + institutions called prisons. Asylums in ever-increasing numbers are + required to restrain their feeble bodies, and still feebler minds! + </p> + <p> + Let us look at the contrasts! Their houses are so miserably supplied with + household goods that even a rash and optimistic man would hesitate before + offering a sovereign for an entire home, yet pawnshops flourish + exceedingly, although the people possess nothing worth pawning. Children + are half fed, for the earnings of parents are too meagre to allow a + sufficient quantity of nourishing food; but public-houses do a roaring + trade on the ready-money principle, while the chandler supplies scraps of + food and half-ounces of tea on very long credit. + </p> + <p> + Money, too, is scarce, very scarce, yet harpies grow rich by lending the + inhabitants small sums from a shilling up to a pound at a rate of interest + that would stagger and paralyse the commercial world. Doctors must needs + to content with a miserable remuneration for their skilled and devoted + services, when paid at all! but burial societies accumulate millions from + a weekly collection of ill-spared coppers. Strangest of all, undertakers + thrive exceedingly, but the butcher and baker find it hard work to live. + </p> + <p> + Yes, the underworld of London is full of strange anomalies and queer + contradictions. When I survey it I become a victim to strange and + conflicting emotions. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes I am disgusted with the dirt and helplessness of the people. + Sometimes I burn with indignation at their wrongs. But when I enter their + houses I feel that I would like to be an incendiary on a wholesale scale. + Look again! I found the boot-machinist widow that I have mentioned, in + Bethnal Green; she was ill in bed, lying in a small room; ill though she + was, and miniature as the room was, two girls aged twelve and fourteen + slept with her and shared her bed, while a youth and a boy slept in a + coal-hole beneath the stairs. Nourishment and rest somewhat restored the + woman, and to give her and the children a chance I took for them a larger + house. I sent them bedding and furniture, the house being repaired and + repainted, for the previous tenant had allowed it to take fire, but the + fire had not been successful enough! I called on the family at midday, and + as I stood in the room, bugs dropped from the ceiling upon me. The widow's + work was covered with them; night and day the pests worried the family, + there was no escaping them; I had to fly, and again remove the family. How + can the poor be clean and self-respecting under such conditions! + </p> + <p> + For be it known this is the normal condition of thousands of human + habitations in London's great underworld. How can cleanliness and + self-respect survive? Yet sometimes they do survive, but at a terrible + cost, for more and still more of the weekly income must go in rent, which + means less and still less for food and clothing. Sometimes the grossness + and impurity, the ignorance and downright wickedness of the underworld + appal and frighten me. + </p> + <p> + But over this I must draw a veil, for I dare not give particulars; I + think, and think, and ask myself again and again what is to be the end of + it all! Are we to have two distinct races! those below and those above? Is + Wells' prophecy to come true; will the one race become uncanny, loathsome + abortions with clammy touch and eyes that cannot face the light? Will the + other become pretty human butterflies? I hope not, nay, I am sure that + Wells is wrong! For there is too much real goodness in the upper world and + too much heroism and endurance in the underworld to permit such an + evolution to come about. + </p> + <p> + But it is high time that such a possibility was seriously considered. It + is high time, too, that the lives and necessities, the wrongs and the + rights of even the gross poor in the underworld were considered. + </p> + <p> + For the whole social and industrial system is against them. Though many of + them are parasites, preying upon society or upon each other, yet even they + become themselves the prey of other parasites, who drain their blood night + and day. + </p> + <p> + So I ask in all seriousness, is it not high time that the exploitation of + the poor, because they are poor, should cease. See how it operates: a + decent married woman loses her husband; his death leaves her dependent + upon her own labour. She has children who hitherto have been provided with + home life, food and clothing; in fact the family had lived a little above + the poverty line, though not far removed from it. + </p> + <p> + She had lived in the upper world, but because her husband dies, she is + precipitated into the lower world, to seek a new home and some occupation + whereby she and her children may live. + </p> + <p> + Because she is a widow, and poor and helpless, she becomes the prey of the + sweater. Henceforth she must work interminable hours for a starvation + wage. Because she is a mother, poor and helpless, she becomes the prey of + the house farmer. Henceforward half her earnings must go in rent, though + her house and its concomitants are detestable beyond words. + </p> + <p> + But though she is poor, her children must be fed, and though she is a + widowed mother, she, even she, must eat sometimes. Henceforward she must + buy food of a poor quality, in minute quantities, of doubtful weight, at + the highest price. She is afraid that death may enter her home and find + her unprepared for a funeral, so she pays one penny weekly for each of her + children and twopence for herself to some collection society. + </p> + <p> + All through this procedure her very extremities provide opportunities to + others for spoliation, and so her continued life in the underworld is + assured. But her children are ill-nourished, ill-clothed, ill-lodged and + ill-bathed, and the gutter is their playground. They do not develop + properly in mind or body, when of age they are very poor assets considered + financially or industrially. They become permanent residents of the + underworld and produce after their kind. + </p> + <p> + So the underworld is kept populated from many sources. Widows with their + children are promptly kicked into it, others descend into it by a slow + process of social and industrial gravitation. Some descend by the downward + path of moral delinquency, and some leap into it as if to commit moral and + social death. + </p> + <p> + And surely 'tis a mad world! How can it be otherwise with all this varied + and perplexed humanity seething it, with all these social and industrial + wrongs operating upon it. But I see the dawn of a brighter day! when + helpless widow mothers will no longer be the spoil of the sweater and the + house "farmer." The dawn has broke! before these words are printed + thousands of toiling women in London's underworld will rejoice! for the + wages of cardboard box-makers will be doubled. The sun is rising! for one + by one all the terrible industries in which the women of the underworld + are engaged will of a certainty come within the operations of a law that + will stay the hand of the oppressors. And there will be less toil for the + widows and more food for the children in the days that are to be. + </p> + <p> + But before that day fully comes, let me implore the women of the upper + world to be just if not generous to the women below. Let me ask them not + to exact all their labours, nor to allow the extremities of their sisters + to be a reason for under-payment when useful service is rendered. Again I + say, and I say it with respect and sorrow, that many women are thoughtless + if not unjust in their business dealings with other women. + </p> + <p> + I am more concerned for the industrial and social rights of women than I + am for their political rights; votes they may have if you please. But by + all that is merciful let us give them justice! For the oppression of + women, whether by women or men, means a perpetuation of the underworld + with all its sorrows and horrors; and the under-payment of women has a + curse that smites us all the way round. + </p> + <p> + And if a word of mine can reach the toiling sisters in the netherworld, I + would say to them: Be hopeful! Patient I know you to be! enduring you + certainly are! brave beyond expression I have found you. Now add to your + virtues, hope! + </p> + <p> + For you have need of it, and you have cause for it. I rejoice that so many + of you are personally known to me! You and I, my sisters, have had much + communion, and many happy times together; for sometimes we have had + surcease from toil and a breath of God's fresh air together. + </p> + <p> + Be hopeful! endure a little longer; for a new spirit walks this old world + to bless it, and to right your long-continued wrongs. + </p> + <p> + Oh! how you have suffered, sisters mine! and while I have been writing + this chapter you have all been around me. But you are the salt of the + underworld; you are much better than the ten just men that were not found + in Sodom. And when for the underworld the day of redemption arrives, it + will be you, my sisters, the simple, the suffering, enduring women that + will have hastened it! + </p> + <p> + So I dwell upon the good that is in the netherworld, in the sure and + certain hope, whether my feeble words and life help forward the time or + not, that the day is not far distant when the dead shall rise! When + justice, light and sweetness will prevail, and in prevailing will purify + the unexplored depths of the sad underworld. + </p> + <p> + I offer no apology for inserting the following selections from London + County Council proceedings. Neither do I make any comment, other than to + say that the statements made present matters in a much too favourable + light. + </p> + <p> + "LONDON'S CHILD SLAVES "OVERWORK AND BAD NUTRITION + </p> + <p> + "Disclosures in L.C.C. Report. + </p> + <p> + (From the Daily Press, December 1911) + </p> + <p> + "The comments passed by members of the L.C.C. at the Education Committee + meeting upon the annual report of the medical officer of that committee + made it clear that many very interesting contents of the report had not + been made public. + </p> + <p> + "The actual report, which we have now seen, contains much more that + deserves the serious attention of all who are interested in the problem of + the London school child. + </p> + <p> + "There is, for example, a moving page on child life in a north-west + poverty area, where, among other conditions, it is not uncommon to find + girls of ten doing a hard day's work outside their school work; they are + the slaves of their mothers and grandmothers. + </p> + <p> + "The great amount of anaemia and malnutrition among the children in this + area (says the report) is due to poverty, with its resultant evils of + dirt, ill-feeding and under-feeding, neglect and female labour. + </p> + <p> + "Cheap food.—The necessity for buying cheap food results in the + purchasing of foodstuffs which are deficient in nutrient properties. The + main articles of diet are indifferent bread and butter, the fag ends of + coarse meat, the outside leaves of green vegetables, and tea, and an + occasional pennyworth of fried fish and potatoes. Children who are + supplied with milk at school, or who are given breakfast and dinner, + respond at once to the better feeding, and show distinct improvement in + their class work. The unemployment among the men obliges the women to seek + for work outside the home, and the under-payment of female labour has its + effect upon the nutrition of the family. + </p> + <p> + "'Investigation in the senior departments of one school showed that 144 + children were being supported by their mothers only, 57 were living on + their sisters, 68 upon the joint earnings of elder brothers and sisters, + while another 130 had mothers who went out to work in order to supplement + the earnings of the father. + </p> + <p> + "'Approximately one-third of the children in this neighbourhood are + supported by female labour. With the mother at work the children rapidly + become neglected, the boys get out of control, they play truant, they + learn to sleep out, and become known to the police while they are still in + the junior mixed department.' + </p> + <p> + "The Girl Housewife.—The maintenance of the home, the cooking and + catering, is done by an elderly girl who sometimes may not be more than + ten years of age. The mother's earnings provide bread and tea for the + family and pay the rent, but leave nothing over for clothing or boots. + </p> + <p> + "Many of the boys obtain employment out of school hours, for which they + are paid and for which they may receive food; others learn to hang about + the gasworks and similar places, and get scraps of food and halfpence from + the workmen. In consequence they may appear to be better nourished than + the girls 'who work beyond their strength at domestic work, step cleaning, + baby minding, or carrying laundry bundles and running errands.' For this + labour they receive no remuneration, since it is done for the family. + </p> + <p> + "A remarkable paragraph of the report roundly declares— + </p> + <p> + "'The provision generally at cost price of school meals for all who choose + to pay for them would be a national economy, which would do much to + improve the status of the feeding centres and the standard of feeding. + This principle is applied most successfully in schools of a higher grade, + and might well be considered in connection with the ordinary elementary + schools of the Council. Such a provision would probably be of the greatest + benefit to the respectable but very poor, who are too proud to apply for + charity meals, and whose children are often penalised by want, and the + various avoidable defects or ailments that come in its train.' + </p> + <p> + "Feeding wanted.—Of the children of a Bethnal Green school, the + school doctor is quoted as reporting that 'it was not hospital treatment + but feeding that was wanted.' + </p> + <p> + "Among curious oddments of information contained in the report, it is + mentioned that the children of widows generally show superior physique. + </p> + <p> + "The teeth are often better in children from the poorer homes, 'perhaps + from use on rougher food materials which leaves less DEBRIS to undergo + fermentation.' + </p> + <p> + "'Children of poorer homes also often have the advantage of the fresh air + of the streets, whilst the better-off child is kept indoors and becomes + flabby and less resistant to minor ailments. The statistics of infantile + mortality suggest that the children of the poorer schools have also gone + through a more severe selection; disease weeding out by natural selection, + and the less fit having succumbed before school age, the residue are of + sturdier type than in schools or classes where such selection has been + less intense.'" + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE NOMADS + </h2> + <p> + A considerable portion of the inhabitants of the world below the line are + wanderers, without home, property, work or any visible means of existence. + For twenty years it has been the fashion to speak of them as the + "submerged," and a notable philanthropist taught the public to believe + that they formed one-tenth of our population. + </p> + <p> + It was currently reported in the Press that the philanthropist I have + referred to offered to take over and salve this mass of human wreckage for + the sum of one million pounds. His offer was liberally responded to; + whether he received the million or not does not matter, for he has at any + rate been able to call to his assistance thousands of men and women, and + to set them to work in his own peculiar way to save the "submerged." + </p> + <p> + From a not unfriendly book just published, written by one who was for more + than twenty years intimately associated with him, and one of the chief + directors of his salvage work, we learn that the result has largely been a + failure. + </p> + <p> + To some of us this failure had been apparent for many years, and though we + hoped much from the movement, we could not close our eyes to facts, and + reluctantly had to admit that the number of the "submerged" did not + appreciably lessen. + </p> + <p> + True, shelters, depots, bridges, homes and labour homes were opened with + astonishing celerity. Wood was chopped and paper sorted in immense + quantities, but shipwrecked humanity passed over bridges that did not lead + to any promised land, and abject humanity ascended with the elevators that + promptly lowered them to depths on the other side. + </p> + <p> + Stimulated by the apparent success or popularity of the Salvation Army, + the Church Army sprang into existence, and disputed with the former the + claim to public patronage, and the right to save! It adopted similar + means, it is certain with similar results, for the "submerged" are still + with us. + </p> + <p> + I say that both these organisations pursued the same methods and worked + practically on the same lines, for both called into their service a number + of enthusiastic young persons, clothed them in uniforms, horribly + underpaid them, and set them to work to save humanity and solve social and + industrial problems, problems for which wiser and more experienced people + fail to find a solution. It would be interesting to discover what has + become of the tens of thousands of enthusiastic men and women who have + borne the uniform of these organisations for periods longer or shorter, + and who have disappeared from the ranks. + </p> + <p> + How many of them are "submerged" I cannot say, but I know that some have + been perilously near it. + </p> + <p> + I am persuaded that this is a dangerous procedure, very dangerous + procedure, and the subscribing public has some right to ask what has + become of all the "officers" who, drawn from useful work to these + organisations, have disappeared. + </p> + <p> + But as a continual recruiting keeps up the strength, the subscribing + public does not care to ask, for the public is quite willing to part with + its vested interests in human wreckage. All this leads me to say once more + that the "submerged" are still with us. Do you doubt it? Then come with + me; let us take a midnight walk on the Thames Embankment; any night will + do, wet or dry, winter or summer! + </p> + <p> + Big Ben is striking the hour as we commence our walk at Blackfriars; we + have with us a sack of food and a number of second-hand overcoats. The + night is cold, gusty and wet, and we think of our warm and comfortable + beds and almost relinquish our expedition. The lights on Blackfriars + Bridge reveal the murky waters beneath, and we see that the tide is + running out. + </p> + <p> + We pass in succession huge buildings devoted to commerce, education, + religion and law; we pass beautiful gardens, and quickly we arrive at the + Temple. The lamps along the roadway give sufficient light for our purpose, + for they enable us to see that here and there on the seats and in the + recesses of the Embankment are strange beings of both sexes. + </p> + <p> + Yonder are two men, unkempt and unshaven, their heads bent forward and + their hands thrust deep into their trousers pockets and, to all + appearance, asleep. + </p> + <p> + Standing in a sheltered corner of the Temple Station we see several other + men, who are smoking short pipes which they replenish from time to time + with bits of cigars and cigarettes that they have gathered during the day + from the streets of London. + </p> + <p> + I know something of the comedy and tragedy of cigar ends, for times and + again I have seen a race and almost a struggle for a "fat end" when some + thriving merchant has thrown one into the street or gutter. Suddenly + emerging from obscurity and showing unexpected activity, two half-naked + fellows have made for it; I have seen the satisfaction of the fellow who + secured it, and I have heard the curse of the disappointed; but there! at + any time, on any day, near the Bank, or the Mansion House, in Threadneedle + Street, or in Cheapside such sights may be seen by those who have eyes to + see. + </p> + <p> + These two fellows have been successful, for they are assuaging the pangs + of hunger by smoking their odds and ends. They look at us as we pass to + continue our investigation. Here on a seat we find several men of motley + appearance; one is old and bent, his white beard covers his chest, he has + a massive head, he is a picturesque figure, and would stand well for a + representation of Old Father Thames, for the wet streams from his hair, + his beard and his ample moustache. Beside him sits a younger man, weak and + ill. His worn clothing tells us of better days, and we instinctively + realise that not much longer will he sit out the midnight hours on the + cold Embankment. + </p> + <p> + Before we distribute our clothes and food, we continue our observation. + What strikes us most is the silence, for no one speaks to us, no hand is + held out for a gift, no requests are made for help. + </p> + <p> + They look at us unconcernedly as we pass; they appear to bear their + privations with indifference or philosophy. Yonder is a woman leaning over + the parapet looking into the mud and water below; we speak to her, and she + turns about and faces us. Then we realise that Hood's poem comes into our + mind; we offer her a ticket for a "shelter," which she declines; we offer + her food, but she will have none of it; she asks us to leave her, and we + pass on. + </p> + <p> + Here is a family group, father and mother with two children; their attire + and appearance tell us that they are tramps; the mother has a babe close + to her breast, and round it she has wrapt her old shawl; a boy of five + sits next to her, and the father is close up. + </p> + <p> + The parents evidently have been bred in vagrancy, and the children, and, + unless the law intervenes, their children are destined to continue the + species. The whining voice of the woman and the outstretched hands of the + boy let us know that they are eager and ready for any gift that pity can + bestow. + </p> + <p> + But we give nothing, and let me say that after years of experience, I + absolutely harden my heart and close my pocket against the tramping beggar + that exploits little children. And to those who drag children, droning out + hymns through our quiet streets on Sunday, my sympathies extend to a + horsewhip. + </p> + <p> + We leave the tramps, and come upon a poor shivering wretch of about + thirty-five years; his face presents unmistakable signs of disease more + loathsome than leprosy; he is not fit to live, he is not fit to die; he is + an outcast from friends, kindred and home. He carries his desolation with + him, and the infirmary or the river will be the end of him. + </p> + <p> + Here are two stalwart fellows, big enough and strong enough to do useful + work in the world. But they are fresh from prison, and will be back in + prison before long; they know us, for it is not the first time we have + made their acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + They are by no means backward in speaking and telling us that they want + "just ten shillings to buy stock in Houndsditch which they can sell in + Cheapside." As we move away they beg insistently for "just a few + shillings; they don't want to get back to prison." + </p> + <p> + Now we come to a youth of eighteen; he seems afraid, and looks at us with + suspicious eyes; what is he doing here? We are interested in him, so + young, yet alone on the Embankment. We open our bag and offer him food, + which he accepts and eats; as we watch him our pity increases: he is + thinly clad, and the night air is damp and cold; we select an old coat, + which he puts on. Then we question him, and he tells us that his mother is + dead, his father remarried; that his stepmother did not like him, and in + consequence his father turned him out; that he cannot get work. And so on; + a common story, no originality about it, and not much truth! + </p> + <p> + We suddenly put the question, "How long have you lived in lodging-houses?" + "About three years, sir." "What did you work at?" "Selling papers in the + streets." "Anything else?" "No, sir." "You had not got any lodging money + to-night.?" "No." "Ever been in prison?" "Only twice." "What for?" + "Gambling in the streets," and we leave him, conscious that he is neither + industrious, honest nor truthful. + </p> + <p> + We come at length to Waterloo Bridge, and here in the corners and recesses + of the steps we find still more of the submerged, and a pitiful lot they + are. + </p> + <p> + We look closely at them, and we see that some are getting back to primeval + life, and that some are little more than human vegetables. We know that + their chief requirements are food, sleep and open air; and that given + these their lives are ideal, to themselves! But we distribute our food + amongst them, we part with our last old coat, we give tickets for free + shelters, but we get no thanks, and we know well enough that the shelter + tickets will not be used, for it is much easier for philosophic + vagabondage to remain curled up where it is than to struggle on to a + shelter. + </p> + <p> + So we leave them, and with a feeling of hopelessness hurry home to our + beds. + </p> + <p> + But let us revisit the Embankment by day at 11 a.m. We take our stand + right close to Cleopatra's Needle; we see that numbers of wretched people, + male and female, are already there, and are forming themselves into a + queue three deep, the males taking the Westminster side of the Needle, the + females the City side. + </p> + <p> + While this regiment of a very dolorous army is gathering together, and + forming silently and passively into the long queue, we look at the ancient + obelisk, and our mind is carried backward to the days of old, when the old + stone stood in the pride of its early life, and with its clear-cut + hieroglyphics spoke to the wonderful people who comprised the great nation + of antiquity. + </p> + <p> + We almost appeal to it, and feel that we would like to question it, as it + stands pointing heavenwards beside our great river. Surely the ancient + stone has seen some strange sights, and heard strange sounds in days gone + by. + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily we ask whether it has seen stranger sights, and heard more + doleful sounds than the sights to be seen under its shadow to-day, and the + sounds to be heard around it by night. Could it speak, doubtless it would + tell of the misery, suffering, slavery endured by the poor in Egypt + thousands of years ago. Maybe it would tell us that the great empire of + old had the same difficulties to face and the same problems to solve that + Great Britain is called upon to face and to solve to-day. + </p> + <p> + For the poor cried for bread in the days of the Pharaohs, and they were + crowded into unclean places, but even then great and gorgeous palaces were + built. + </p> + <p> + "Can you tell us, Ancient Stone, has there been an onward march of good + since that day? Are we much better, wiser, happier and stronger than the + dusky generations that have passed away?" But we get no response from the + ancient stone, as grim and silent it stands looking down upon us. So we + turn to the assembled crowd. See how it has grown whilst we have been + speculating. Silently, ceaselessly over the various bridges, or through + the various streets leading from the Strand they have come, and are still + coming. + </p> + <p> + There is no firm footstep heard amongst them as they shufflingly take + their places. No eager expectation is seen on any face, but quietly, + indifferently, without crushing, elbowing, they join the tail-end of the + procession and stand silently waiting for the signal that tells them to + move. + </p> + <p> + Let us walk up and down to count them, for it is nearly twelve o'clock, + and at twelve o'clock the slow march begins. So we count them by threes, + and find five hundred men to the right and one hundred women to the left, + all waiting, silently waiting! Stalwart policemen are there to keep order, + but their services are not required. + </p> + <p> + In the distance the whirl of London's traffic raises its mighty voice; + nearer still, the passing tramcars thunder along, and the silence of the + waiting crowd is made more apparent by these contrasts. + </p> + <p> + Big Ben booms the hour! it is twelve o'clock! and the slow march begins; + three by three they slowly approach the Needle, and each one is promptly + served with a small roll of bread and a cup of soup; as each one receives + the bread and soup he steps out of the ranks, promptly and silently drinks + his soup, and returns the cup. Rank follows rank till every one is served, + then silently and mysteriously the crowd melts away and disappears. The + police go to other duties, the soup barrows are removed; the grim ancient + stone stands once more alone. + </p> + <p> + But a few hours later, even as Big Ben is booming six, the "Miserables" + will be again waiting, silently waiting for the rolls of bread and the + cups of soup, and having received them will again mysteriously disappear, + to go through the same routine at twelve o'clock on the morrow. Aye! and + to return on every morrow when soup and rolls are to be had. + </p> + <p> + It looks very pitiful, this mass of misery. It seems very comforting to + know that they are fed twice a day with rolls and soup, but after all the + matter wants looking at very carefully, and certain questions must be + asked. + </p> + <p> + Who are these miserables? How comes it that they are so ready to receive + as a matter of course the doles of food provided for them? Are they really + helped, and is their position really improved by this kind of charity? I + venture to say no! I go farther, and I say very decidedly that so long as + the bulk of these people can get food twice a day, and secure some kind of + shelter at night, they will remain content to be as they are. I will go + still farther and say, that if this provision becomes permanent the number + of the miserables will increase, and the Old Needle will continue to look + down on an ever-growing volume of poverty and wretchedness. + </p> + <p> + For after receiving the soup and bread, these nomads disappear into the + streets and by-ways of London, there by hook or crook, by begging or other + means, to secure a few coppers, to pick up scraps of food, and to return + to the Embankment. + </p> + <p> + I have walked up and down the Embankment, I have looked searchingly at the + people assembled. Some of them I have recognised as old acquaintances; + many of them, I know, have no desire to be other than what they are. To + eat, to sleep, to have no responsibility, to be free to live an + uncontrolled life, are their ambitions; they have no other. Some of them + are young men, only twenty years of age, who have seen the inside of + prison again and again. Some of them are older, who have tramped the + country in the summer time and have been drawn to London by the attraction + of an easy feeding in the winter. Search their ranks! and you will find + very little genuine, unfortunate, self-respecting poverty. They are what + they are, and unless other means are adopted they will, remain what they + are! + </p> + <p> + And so they will eat the bread and drink the soup; they will come at + twelve o'clock noon; they will come at six o'clock in the evening. They + will sleep where they can, and to-morrow will be as to-day; and the next + day as to-morrow, unless some compulsion is applied to them. + </p> + <p> + All this is very sad, but I venture to say it is true, and it seems to be + one of the evils almost inseparable from our present life. Probably in + every clime and every age such women and men have existed. The savage + lives in all of us, and the simple life has its attractions. To be free of + responsibility is, no doubt, a natural aspiration. But when I see how easy + it is for this class of people to obtain food, when I see how easy it is + for them to obtain shelter, when I see and know how thousands of the poor + are unceasingly at work in order to provide a modicum of food and the + semblance of a shelter, then it occurs to me, and I am sure it will to any + one who thinks seriously upon the matter, that these men and women, who + are harking back to the life of the idle savage, are treated better in + Christian England than the industrious, self-respecting but unfortunate + poor. But come with me to see another sight! It is again afternoon, and we + take our stand at 3.30 p.m. outside a shelter for women which every night + receives, for fourpence each, some hundreds of submerged women. + </p> + <p> + The doors will not be opened till six o'clock, so we are in time to watch + them as they arrive to take their places in the waiting queue. A policeman + is present to preserve order and keep the pavement clear; but his service + is not required, for the women are very orderly, and allow plenty of room + for passers-by. + </p> + <p> + As the time for opening approaches, the number of waiting women increases + until there is a waiting silent crowd. No photograph could give the + slightest idea of their appearance, for dirt and misery are not revealed + by photography. + </p> + <p> + Let us look at them, for the human eye sees most! What do we see? Squalor, + vice, misery, dementia, feeble minds and feeble bodies. Old women on the + verge of the grave eating scraps of food gathered from the City dustbins. + Dirty and repulsive food, dirty and repulsive women! who have begged + during the day enough coppers to pay for their lodging by night. Girls of + twenty, whose conduct in their homes has been outrageous, and whose life + in London must be left to imagination. Middle-aged women, outcasts, whose + day has past, but who have still capabilities for begging and stealing. + The whole company presents an altogether terrible picture, and we are + conscious that few of the women have either the ability or the desire to + render decent service to the community, or to live womanly lives. + </p> + <p> + At length the door opens, and we watch them pass silently in, to sleep + during the night in the boxes arranged on the floors, their bodies + unwashed, and their clothing unchanged. Happy are such women when some + trumpery theft lands them in prison, for there at any rate a change of + clothing is provided, and a bath is compulsory. + </p> + <p> + If we stand outside a men's shelter, we see a similar state of things, a + waiting crowd. A passive, content, strange mixed lot of humans. Some of + them who have been well educated, but are now reaping the harvest that + follows the sowing of wild oats. The submerged males are, on the whole, + less repulsive than the women; dirt is less in evidence, and they exhibit + a better standard of health. But many of them are harking back to nature, + and remind us of the pictures we have seen of primeval man. + </p> + <p> + I want to say a few words about the submerged that congregate on the + Thames Embankment, and the humanity we have seen enter the cheap shelters. + </p> + <p> + My experience has shown me that they constitute the lowest grade and the + least hopeful class of the submerged. Amongst them there are very few + decent and helpable men and women who are capable of rising to a higher + life. Say what we will, be as pitiful as we may, those of us who have much + experience of life know perfectly well that there exists a large class of + persons who are utterly incapable of fulfilling the duties of decent + citizenship. It may be that they are wicked, and it is certain that they + are weak, but whether wicked or weak, they have descended by the law of + moral gravitation and have found their level in the lowest depths of + civilised life. + </p> + <p> + And they come from unexpected quarters, for some who have known comfort + and refinement are now quite content with their present conditions. + Whether born of refined parents, or of rude and ignorant parents, whether + coming from a tramping stock, or from settled home life, they have one + thing in common. It is this—the life they live has a powerful + attraction for them; they could not if they would, and would not if they + could, live lives that demand decency, discipline and industry. Nothing + but compulsion will ever induce them to submit themselves to disciplined + life. But let it be clearly understood that I am now speaking only of the + lowest class of the submerged. While my experience has taught me that + they, humanly speaking, are a hopeless lot, I have learned that they have + their qualities. They can endure if they cannot work; they can suffer if + they cannot strive. After all I am persuaded that they get a fair amount + of happiness. Simple pleasures are the greatest, perhaps the only real + pleasures. We all like to be free of responsibilities. There is no + rent-day coming round with dread certainty and irritating monotony to the + nomads. No rate collector irritates them with his imperious "demand note." + No school-board officer rouses them to a sense of duty by his everlasting + efforts to force their children to school. No butcher, no baker, no + milkman duns them for payment of bills long overdue! They escape the + danger of furniture on the "hire system." For them no automatic gas meter + grudgingly doles out its niggardly pennyworths of gas. They are not + implored to burden themselves with the ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA. + </p> + <p> + They are free from the seductions of standard bread; paper-bag cookery + causes them no anxious thought. Even "sweet peas" do not enter into their + simple calculations. Finally no life assurance agent marks them for his + prey, and no income-tax tempts them to lie! From all these things they are + free, and I would like to know who would not wish to be free of them and a + thousand other worries I would escape them if I could, but alas I cannot. + </p> + <p> + Decidedly there is much to be said for the life of a nomad, but whether or + not I should place him among the inhabitants of the underworld I am not + sure; for he toils not, neither does he spin, and his bitterest enemies + cannot accuse him of taking thought for the morrow. I had almost forgotten + one great advantage he possesses: he need not wash; and when this + distasteful operation becomes, for sanitary reasons, absolutely necessary, + why then he can take a month in one of our great sanatoria, either prison + or workhouse will do, and be thoroughly cleansed! + </p> + <p> + The idea of such free and easy folk being saved by a shelter and + wood-chopping is very funny. + </p> + <p> + But we are all tramps, more or less; it is only a question of degree! Who + would not like to tramp with George Borrow through Spain or Wales I would + like the chance! Who does not feel and hear the "call of the wild"? Most + certainly all Britons thrill with it. Who does not like to feel the "wind + on the heath" beat on his face and fill his nostrils! Who does not love + the sweetness of country lanes, or the solitude of mountains, or the + whispering mystery of the wood, or the terrors of the sea, or the silence + of midnight? + </p> + <p> + All these things are ingrained in us, part and parcel of our very selves; + we cannot get away from them if we would, and woe betide us if we did! For + this is a grand quality in itself, one that has made our nation and our + empire. But couple it with idleness, inertia, feebleness, weak minds, and + weaker bodies; why, then you get the complete article, the vegetable + human! the guinea-pig man; if you will, the "submerged," or at any rate a + portion of them. + </p> + <p> + Originally I have no doubt the human family were nomads, and many of our + good old instincts still survive, but civilisation has killed others. In + every cross-bred species of animals or plants there are "reverts" or + "throwbacks," and the human family produces plenty of them. Every + civilised country has its "throwbacks," and the more monotonous + civilisation becomes, the more cast-iron its rules, and the more + scientific and educated its people, the more onerous and difficult become + the responsibilities and duties of citizenship; and the greater the + likelihood of in increased number of reverts to undisciplined and wild + life. In this direction the sea and our colonies are the safeguard of + England. But to-day we pay in meal or malt for our civilisation, for many + brave lads, with thews and muscles, are chafing, fretting and wearing out + their hearts in dull London offices or stores, where they feel choked, + hampered, cabined and confined, for civilisation chains them to their + desks. + </p> + <p> + But I am wandering too! I will hark back. Another cause, and a fruitful + cause, of nomadic life is to be found in the ever-increasing number of + young incapables that our present-day life produces. Characterless, + backboneless, negative kind of fellows with neither wisdom nor stature + abound. Up to eighteen years they pass muster, but after that age they are + useless; in reality they need caring for all their lives. They possess no + initiative, no self-reliance, and little capability for honest work, + unless it be simple work done under close supervision. Our industrial life + is too strenuous for these young men; they are laggards in life's race, + they quickly fall behind, and ultimately become disqualified altogether. + </p> + <p> + Many of their parents refuse them shelter, the streets become their home; + absolute idleness supervenes; their day is past. Henceforward they are + lodging-house habitues, or wanderers on the face of the earth. + </p> + <p> + More pitiable still is the case of those that may be classed as + feeble-minded, and who are just responsible enough to be quite + irresponsible. Idiots and imbeciles have largely disappeared from country + villages and small towns. They are well taken care of, for our large + asylums are full of them; they have good quarters, good food, every + attention, so they live long in the land. + </p> + <p> + But the case is very different with the half imbeciles or the half mad. + Short terms of imprisonment with short periods of hopeless, useless + liberty and an occasional spell in the workhouse constitute the circle of + their lives; and a vicious circle it is. Can any life be more pitiable? + Sane enough to know that they are not quite sane, insane enough to have no + wish to control their animal or vicious instincts. Possessing no + education, strength or skill, of no possible use in industrial life, with + no taste for decency or social life; sleeping by day in our parks, and by + night upon the Embankment. But they mate; and as like meets with like the + result may be imagined! Here again we are paying for our neglect of many + serious matters. Bad housing, overcrowding, incessant work by the mothers + whilst bearing children, drinking habits among the parents, insufficient + food for the children, endless anxieties and worries. All these things and + more amongst that portion of the nation which produces the largest + families; what wonder that many incapable bodies and minds result! + </p> + <p> + But if civilisation allows all this, civilisation must pay the penalty, + which is not a light one, and continue to have the miserables upon the + Embankment. + </p> + <p> + Have we no pity! no thought for the next generation, no concern for + ourselves! No! I do not recommend a lethal chamber, but I do strongly + advise permanent detention and segregation for these low types of + unfortunate humanity. Nothing less will avail, and expensive though it + might be for a time, it would pay in the near future, and would be at once + an act of mercy and justice. + </p> + <p> + Yes, on the Thames Embankment extremes meet, the ages are bridged over, + for the products of our up-to-date civilisation stand side by side with + the products of primeval habits and nomadic life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. LODGING-HOUSES + </h2> + <p> + The inmates of the underworld lodging-houses are a queer and heterogeneous + lot; but they are much to be preferred to the sleepers out; because + rascally though many of them are, there is a good deal of self-reliance + and not a little enterprise amongst them. By hook and crook, and, it is to + be feared, mostly by crook, they obtain sufficient money for food and + lodging, and to this extent they are an improvement upon the sleepers out. + They have, too, some pluck, perseverance and talents that, rightly + applied, might be of considerable benefit to the community. But having got + habituated to the liberty of common lodging-houses, and to the excitement + of getting day by day just enough for each day's need, though sometimes + fasting and sometimes feasting, the desire for settled home life and for + the duties of citizenship has vanished. For with the money to pay night by + night for their lodgings, responsibility to rent and tax collector ends. + </p> + <p> + I must allow some exceptions, for once every year there comes upon + thousands of them the burden of finding five shillings to pay for the + hawker's licence that provides them with the semblance of a living, or an + excuse for begging. After much experience of this class, including many + visits to common lodging-houses, and some friendships with the inmates, I + am sure that the desire to be untrammelled with social and municipal + obligation leads a great percentage of the occupants to prefer the life to + any other. They represent to some extent in this modern and industrial age + the descendants of Jonadab, the son of Rechab, with this exception, they + are by no means averse to the wine-cup. It is to be feared that there is a + growth in this portion of our community, for every scheme for providing + decent lodgings for casually homeless men is eagerly taken advantage of by + men who might and who ought to live in homes of their own, and so fulfil + the duties of decent citizenship. In this respect even Lord Rowton's + estimable lodging-houses, and those, too, of our municipal authorities + prove no exception, for they attract numbers of men who ought not to be + there, but who might, with just a little more self-reliance and + self-respect, live comfortably outside. + </p> + <p> + But I pass on to the common lodging-houses that accommodate a lower class + than is found in municipal or Rowton houses. Probably none, or at any rate + very few, of my readers have had a practical experience of common + lodging-houses. I have, so therefore I ask them to accompany me to one of + them. + </p> + <p> + In a dingy slum stand a number of grimy houses that have been converted + into one big house. The various doorways have been blocked and one + enlarged entrance serves. + </p> + <p> + As we enter, the money-taker in his office demands our business. We tell + him that we are anxious to have a look round, and he tells us that he will + send for the deputy. The deputy is the autocrat that governs with + undisputable sway in this domain of semi-darkness and dirt. We stand aside + in the half-lit passage, taking good care that we have no contact with the + walls; the air we breathe is thick with unpleasant odours, and we realise + at once, and to our complete satisfaction, the smell and flavour of a + common lodging-house. We know instinctively that we have made its + acquaintance before, it seems familiar to us, but we are puzzled about it + until we remember we have had a foretaste of it given to us by some + lodging-house habitues that we met. The aroma of a common lodging-house + cannot be concealed, it is not to be mistaken. The hour is six o'clock + p.m., the days are short, for it is November. The lodgers are arriving, so + we stand and watch them as they pass the little office and pay their + sixpences. Down goes the money, promptly a numbered ticket takes its + place; few words are exchanged, and away go the ticket-holders to the + general kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Presently the deputy comes to interview us, and he does not put us at our + ease; he is a forbidding fellow, one that evidently will stand no + nonsense. Observe, if you please, that he has lost his right hand, and + that a formidable iron hook replaces it. Many a time has that hook been + serviceable; if it could speak, many tales would it tell of victories won, + of rows quelled, and of blood spilled. + </p> + <p> + We have seen the fellow previously, and more than once, at the local + police-court. Sometimes he came as prosecutor, sometimes as prisoner, and + at other times as witness. When the police had been required to supplement + the power of his iron hand in quelling the many free fights, he appeared + sometimes in the dual capacity of prisoner and prosecutor. + </p> + <p> + We know that he retains his position because of his strength and the + unscrupulous way in which he uses it. He knows us too, but he is not well + pleased to see us! Nevertheless, he accedes to our request for "just a + look round." So through a large passage we pass, and he ushers us into the + lodging-house kitchen. As the door opens a babel of many voices greets us, + a rush of warm air comes at us, and the evidence of our noses proclaims + that bloaters and bacon, liver and onions, sausages and fresh fish are + being cooked. We look and see, we see and taste! Strange eyes are turned + upon us just for a moment, but we are not "'tecs," so the eyes are turned + back to the different frying-pans or roasting-forks, as the case may be. + See how they crowd round the huge and open fire, for there is no cooking + range. See how they elbow each other as they want space for this pan or + that fork. See how the bloaters curl and twist as if trying to escape from + the forks and the fire. See how the sausages burst and splutter in their + different pans. See how stolidly the tough steaks brown, refusing either + to splutter, yield fat, or find gravy to assist in their own undoing. + </p> + <p> + Listen to the sizzling that pervades the place, acting as an orchestral + accompaniment to the chorus of human voices. Listen to it all, breathe it + all, let your noses and your ears take it all in. Then let your eyes and + your imagination have their turn before the pungency of rank tobacco adds + to the difficulty of seeing and breathing. And so we look, and we find + there are sixty human beings of both sexes and various ages in that + kitchen. Some of them we know, for have we not seen them in Cheapside, St. + Paul's Churchyard, or elsewhere acting as gutter merchants. Yonder sit an + old couple that we have seen selling matches or laces for many years past! + It is not a race day, and there being no "test match" or exciting football + match, a youth of sixteen who earns a precarious living by selling papers + in the streets sits beside them. To-day papers are at a discount, so he + has given up business for the day and sought warmth and company in his + favourite lodging-house. + </p> + <p> + Ah! there is our old friend, the street ventriloquist! You see the back of + his hand is painted in vivid colours to resemble the face of an old woman. + We know that he has a bundle that contains caps and bonnets, dresses and + skirts that will convert his hand and arm into a quaint human figure. Many + a droll story can he tell, for he has "padded the hoof" from one end of + England to the other; he knows every lodging-house from Newcastle-on-Tyne + to Plymouth. He is a graceless dog, fond of a joke, a laugh and a story; + he is honest enough and intelligent enough for anything. But of regular + life, discipline and work he will have none. By and by, after the cooking + is all done, he will want to give a performance and take up a collection. + </p> + <p> + There are a couple, male and female, who tramp the country lanes; the farm + haystacks or outbuildings have been their resting-places during the + summer, but approaching winter has sent them back to London. + </p> + <p> + You see that they have got a tattered copy of Moody and Sankey's hymns, + which is their stock-in-trade. They have at different lodging-house + "services" picked up some slight knowledge of a limited number of tunes, + now they are trying to commit the words to memory. + </p> + <p> + To-morrow they will in quiet streets be whining out "Oh, where is my boy + to-night?" or "Will you meet me at the Fountain?" + </p> + <p> + Look again—here is a shabby-genteel man who lives by his wits. He is + fairly educated and can write a plausible letter. He is dangerous; his + stock-in-trade comprises local directories, WHO'S WHO, annual reports of + charitable societies, clergymen's lists, etc. He is a begging-letter + writer, and moves from lodging-house to lodging-house; he writes letters + for any of the inmates who have some particular tale of woe to unfold, or + some urgent appeal to make, and he receives the major part of the + resultant charity. + </p> + <p> + He is drunken and bestial, he is a parasite of the worst description, for + he preys alike on the benevolent and upon the poor wretches whose cause he + espouses. + </p> + <p> + He assumes many names, he changes his addresses adroitly, and ticks off + very carefully the names and addresses of people he has defrauded. In + fact, he is so clever and slippery that the police and the Charity + Organisation Society cannot locate him. So he thrives, a type of many, for + every one of London's common lodging-houses can provide us with one or + more such cunning rogues. + </p> + <p> + Yonder sits a "wandering boy" about twenty-eight years of age. He is not + thriving, and he must needs be content with simple bread and cheese. A + roll of cheap "pirated" music lies on his knee and proclaims his method of + living. His life has its dangers, for he has great difficulty in providing + five shillings for his pedlar's licence, and he runs great risk of having + his stock seized by the police, and being committed to prison for a fine + he cannot pay. + </p> + <p> + He has brought sorrow and disgrace upon his parents, no eye brightens at + the mention of his name. Alas! he is a specimen of the "homeless boy" of + whom his neighbours the minstrels will sing to-morrow. He is silent and + moody, for he is not in funds. Are there none among the company whom sheer + misfortune has brought down into this underworld? we ask. Aye, there are, + for in this kitchen there are representatives of all sorts and conditions. + See that man in the corner by himself, speaking to no one, cooking + nothing, eating nothing; he is thinking, thinking! This is his first night + in a common lodging-house; it is all new to him, he thinks it all so + terrible and disgusting. + </p> + <p> + He seems inclined to run and spend his night in the streets, and perhaps + it will be well for him to do so. He looks decent, bewildered and + sorrowful; we know at a glance that some misfortune has tripped him up, we + see that self-respect is not dead within him. We know that if he stays the + night, breathing the foul air, listening to the horrid talk, seeing much + and realising more, feeling himself attacked on every side by the ordinary + pests of common lodging-houses, we know that tomorrow morning his + self-respect will be lessened, his moral power weakened, and his hope of + social recovery almost gone. Let him stay a few weeks, then the + lodging-house will become his home and his joy. So we feel inclined to cry + out and warn him to escape with his life. This is the great evil and + danger of common lodging-houses; needful as they undoubtedly are for the + homeless and the outcast, they place the unfortunate on an inclined plane + down which they slide to complete demoralisation. + </p> + <p> + I am told that there are four hundred large common lodging-houses in + London, many of them capable of holding several hundred lodgers, and which + night after night are filled with a weird collection of humanity. And they + cast a fatal spell upon all who get accustomed to them. Few, very few who + have become acclimatised ever go back to settled home life. For the + decencies, amenities and restraints of citizenship become distasteful. And + truly there is much excitement in the life for excitement, at any rate, + abounds in common lodging-houses. + </p> + <p> + Nothing happens in them but the unexpected, and that brings its joys and + terrors, its laughter and its tears. Here a great deal of unrestrained + human nature is given free play, and the results are exciting if not + edifying. Let us spend an evening, but not a night—that is too much + to ask-with the habitues. + </p> + <p> + We sit apart and listen to the babel of voices, but we listen in vain for + the lodging-house slang of which we are told so much. They speak very much + like other people, and speak on subjects upon which other people speak. + They get as excited as ordinary people, too. + </p> + <p> + Yonder is a lewd fellow shouting obscenities to a female, who, in an + equally loud voice and quite as unmistakable language, returns him a + Roland for every Oliver. + </p> + <p> + Here are a couple of wordy excitable fellows who are arguing the pros and + cons of Free Trade and Tariff Reform. They will keep at it till the lights + are put out, for both are supplied with a plentiful supply of + contradictory literature. Both have fluent tongues, equally bitter, and, + having their audience, they, like other people, must contend for mastery. + Not that they care for the rights or wrongs of either question, for both + are prepared, as occasion serves, to take either side. Religion, too, is + excitedly discussed, for an animated couple are discussing Christian + Evidences, while the ventriloquist gives parsons generally and bishops in + particular a very warm time; even the Pope and General Booth do not escape + his scurrilous but witty indictments. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the street singers are practising songs, sacred and secular, and + our friend the street minstrel produces an old flute and plays an + obbligato, whilst the quivering voice of his poor old wife again wants to + know the whereabouts of her wandering boy. + </p> + <p> + There will be a touching scene when they do meet—may I be there! but + I hope they will not meet in a common lodging-house. Another street + minstrel is practising new tunes upon a mouth-organ, wherewith to soften + the hearts of a too obdurate public. + </p> + <p> + What a babel it all makes; now groups of card-players are getting + quarrelsome, for luck has been against some, or cheating has been + discovered; blows are exchanged, and blood flows! As the night advances, + men and women under the influence of drink arrive. Some are merry, others + are quarrelsome, some are moody and lachrymose. The latter become the butt + of the former, the noise increases, confusion itself becomes confounded, + and we leave to avoid the general MELEE, and to breathe the night air, + which we find grateful and reviving. Phew! but it was hot and thick, we + don't want to breathe it again. It is astonishing that people get used to + it, and like it too! But it leaves its taint upon them, for it permeates + their clothing; they carry it about with them, and any one who gets a + whiff of it gets some idea of the breath of a common lodging-house. And + its moral breath has its effect, too! Woe to all that is fresh and fair, + young and hopeful, that comes within its withering influence. Farewell! a + long farewell to honour, truth and self-respect, for the hot breath of a + common lodging-house will blast those and every other good quality in + young people of either sex that inhale it. Its breath comes upon them, and + lo! they become foul without and vile within, carrying their moral and + physical contagion with them wherever they go. + </p> + <p> + A moral sepulchre, or rather crematorium, is the common lodging-house, for + when its work is done, nothing is left but ashes. For the old habitues I + am not much concerned, and though generally I hold a brief for old + sinners, criminals and convicts, I hold no brief for the old and + middle-aged habitues of a common lodging-house. + </p> + <p> + Can any one call the dead to life? Can any one convert cold flesh into + warm pulsing life? Nay, nay! Talk about being turned into a pillar of + salt! the common lodging-house can do more and worse than that! It can + turn men and women into pillars of moral death, for even the influence of + a long term of penal servitude, withering as it is, cannot for one moment + be compared with the corrupting effect of common lodging-house life. + </p> + <p> + So the old minstrels may go seeking their wandering boy! and the + begging-letter writers may go hang! + </p> + <p> + The human vultures that prey upon the simple and good-natured may, if + middle-aged, continue in their evil ways. But what of the young people of + whom there ought to be hope? What of them? how long are these "lazar + houses" to stand with open door waiting to receive, swallow, transform and + eject young humanity? But there is money in them, of course there is; + there always is money to be made out of sin and misery if the community + permits. + </p> + <p> + Human wreckage pays, and furnishes a bigger profit than more humdrum + investments. I am told by an old habitue with whom I have had endless + talks and who has taught me much, although he is a graceless rascal, that + one man owns eight of these large establishments, and that he and his + family live in respectability and wealth. + </p> + <p> + I have no reason to doubt his statement, for these places are mines of + wealth, but the owners take precious good care not to live in them. And + infinite care that their families do not inhabit them. Some day when we + are wise—but wisdom comes so slowly—these things will not be + left to private enterprise, for municipalities will provide and own them + at no loss to the ratepayers either. + </p> + <p> + Then decency, though homeless, will have a chance of survival, and moral + and physical cleanliness some chance to live, even in a common + lodging-house. + </p> + <p> + Sadly we need a modern St. George who will face and destroy this monstrous + dragon with the fiery breath. + </p> + <p> + Let it not be said that I am unduly hard upon them who from choice or + misfortune inhabit these places. From my heart I pity them, but one cannot + be blind to the general consequences. And these things must be taken into + consideration when efforts are made, as undoubtedly efforts will some day + be made, to tackle this question in a reasonable way. + </p> + <p> + It is high time, too, that the public understood the difficulties that + attend any effort to lift lodging-house habitues to a higher form of + existence. + </p> + <p> + I am bold enough to hazard the statement that the number of these people + increases year by year, and that no redemptive effort has had the + slightest effect in checking the continual increase. As Secretary of the + Howard Association, it is my business year by year to make myself + acquainted with the criminal statistics, and all matters connected with + our prisons. These statistics more than confirm my statement, for they + tell us that while drunkenness, brutality, crimes of violence show a + steady decrease, vagabondage, sleeping out, begging, etc., show a + continual increase as years roll by. + </p> + <p> + Of course many of them appear again and again in the prison statistics, + nevertheless they form a great and terrible army, whose increase bodes ill + for dear and fair old England. + </p> + <p> + Like birds they are migratory, but they pour no sweetness on the morning + or evening air. Like locusts they leave a blight behind. + </p> + <p> + Like famished wolves when winter draws near they seek the habitations of + men. Food they must have! There is corn in Egypt! + </p> + <p> + When gentle spring returns, then heigho! for the country lanes, villages + and provincial towns, and as they move from place to place they leave + their trail behind them. + </p> + <p> + And what a trail it is! ask the governors of our local prisons, ask the + guardians of any country districts, ask the farmers, aye, and ask the + timid women and pretty children, and, my word for it, they will be able to + tell you much of these strange beings that returning summer brings + unfailingly before them. Their lodging is sometimes the cold hard ground, + or the haystack, or perchance, if in luck, an outbuilding. + </p> + <p> + The prisons are their sanatoria, the workhouses their homes of rest, and + the casual ward their temporary conveniences. But always before them is + one objective, for a common lodging-house is open to them, and its + hypnotism draws them on and on. + </p> + <p> + So on they go, procreating as they go. Carrying desolation with them, + leaving desolation behind them. The endurance of these people—I + suppose they must be called people—is marvellous and their rate of + progression is sometimes astonishing; weary and footsore, maimed, halt or + blind they get over the ground at a good uniform pace. + </p> + <p> + Look at that strange being that has just passed us as we sat on the bank + of a country lane; he goes along with slouching gait and halting steps; he + has no boots worthy of the name, his tattered trousers, much too long, + give us glimpses of his flesh. He wears an old frock-coat that hangs + almost to his heels, and a cloth cap, greasy and worn, upon his head. His + beard is wild and abundant, and his hair falls upon his shoulders in a way + worthy of an artist or poet. + </p> + <p> + Follow him, but not too closely, and you will find it hard to keep up with + him, he knows what he is making for. Neither George Borrow nor Runciman + would hold him for a week, for George would want to stop and talk, but + this fellow is silent and grim. A lazar house draws him on, and he needs + must reach it, weak and ill-fed though he is! And he will reach others + too, for he is on a circular tour. But next winter will find him in a + Westminster lodging-house if he has luck, on the Embankment if he has not. + </p> + <p> + He has an easy philosophy: "All the things in the world belong to all the + men in the world," is his outspoken creed, so he steals when he can, and + begs when he cannot steal. + </p> + <p> + But think of this life when women share it, and children are born into it, + and lads and lassies are on the tramp. Dare we think of it? We dare not! + If we did, it would not be tolerated for a day. Neither dare I write about + it, for there are many things that cannot be written. So I leave + imagination to supply what words must not convey. + </p> + <p> + But it is all so pitiful, it is too much for me, for sometimes I feel that + I am living with them, tramping with them, sleeping with them, eating with + them; I am become as one of them. I feel the horror, yet I do not realise + the charms. + </p> + <p> + I am an Englishman! I love liberty! I must be free, or die! I want to + order my own life, to control my own actions, to run on my own lines; I + would that all men should have similar rights. But, alas! it cannot be—civilisation + claims and enchains us; we have to submit to its discipline, and it is + well that it should be so. We do not, cannot live to ourselves, and for + ourselves. Those days have long passed, and for ever. Orderly life and + regular duties are good for us, and necessary for the well-being of the + nation. + </p> + <p> + A strong robust: nation demands and requires a large amount of freedom, + and this it must have, or perish! The individual man, too, requires a fair + amount if he is to be a man. But we may, and we do in some things extend + freedom beyond the legitimate bounds. For in a country of limited area + where the bulk of the people live onerous lives, and manfully perform + their duties, we allow a host of parasites to thrive and swarm. + </p> + <p> + The more this host increases, the weaker the nation becomes, and its + existence may ultimately become not a sign of freedom but a proof of + national decay. For parasites thrive on weakly life, be it individual or + national. So while we have a profound pity for the nomads, let us express + it with a strong hand. They cannot care for themselves in any decent way. + Let us care for them, and detain them in places that will allow permanent + detention and segregation. And the results will be surprising, for prisons + will be less numerous, workhouses, casual wards and asylums less + necessary, lazar houses with their pestilential breath will pass away, and + England will be happier, sweeter and more free! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. FURNISHED APARTMENTS + </h2> + <p> + What fell power decreed that certain streets in London should be devoted + to the purpose of providing "furnished apartments" for the submerged I do + not know. But I do know that some streets are entirely devoted to this + purpose, and that a considerable amount of money is made out of such + houses. + </p> + <p> + I ask my readers to accompany me for a visit to one of these streets, and + make some acquaintance with the houses, the furniture and the inhabitants. + </p> + <p> + The particular streets we select run at a right-angle from a main + thoroughfare, a railway divides them from a beautiful park, and on this + railway City merchants pass daily to and from their suburban homes. + </p> + <p> + I question whether in the whole of London more misery, vice and poverty + can be found located in one limited area than in the streets we are about + to visit. I know them, and I have every reason for knowing them. We make + our visit in summer time, when poverty is supposed to be less acute. As we + enter the street we notice at once that a commodious public-house stands + and thrives at the entrance. We also notice that there are in the street + several "general" shops, where tea and margarine, firewood, pickles, + paraffin oil and cheese, boiled ham and vinegar, corned beef and Spanish + onions, bread and matches are to be obtained. + </p> + <p> + We stand in the middle of the roadway, in the midst of dirt and refuse, + and look up and down the street. Innumerable children are playing in the + gutter or on the pavements, and the whole place teems with life. We + observe that the houses are all alike, the shops excepted. They stand + three-storey high; there are nine rooms in each house. We look in vain for + bright windows and for clean and decent curtains. + </p> + <p> + Every room seems occupied, for there is no card in any window announcing + "furnished apartments." The street is too well known to require + advertisement, consequently the "furnished apartments" are seldom without + tenants. + </p> + <p> + The street is a cave of Adullam to which submerged married couples resort + when their own homes, happy or otherwise, are broken up. + </p> + <p> + We notice that it is many days since the doors and window-frames of the + different houses made acquaintance with the painter. We notice that all + doors stand open, for it is nobody's business to answer a knock, friendly + or otherwise. We look in the various doorways and see in each case the + same sort of staircase and the same unclean desolation. + </p> + <p> + Who would believe that Adullam Street is a veritable Tom Tiddler's Ground? + Would any one believe that a colony of the submerged could prove a source + of wealth? + </p> + <p> + Let us count the houses on both sides of the street. Forty-five houses! + Leave out the two "general" shops, the greengrocer's and the "off + licence"; leave out also the one where the agent and collector lives, that + leaves us forty-one houses of nine rooms let out as furnished apartments. + </p> + <p> + If let to married couples that means a population of seven hundred and + thirty-eight, if all the rooms are occupied, and supposing that no couple + occupies more than one room. As for the children—but we dare not + think of them—we realise the advantage of the open street of which + we freely grant them the freehold. But we make the acquaintance of a + tenant and ask some questions. We find that she has two children, that + they have but one furnished room, for which they pay seven shillings and + sixpence weekly in advance! Always in advance! + </p> + <p> + She further tells us that their room is one of the best and largest; it + faces the street, and is on the first floor. She says that some rooms are + let at six shillings, others at six shillings and sixpence, and some at + seven shillings. We ask her why she lives in Adullam Street, and she tells + us that her own furniture was obtained on the "hire system," and when it + was seized they came to Adullam Street, and they do not know how they are + to get out of it. + </p> + <p> + That sets us thinking and calculating; three hundred and sixty-nine rooms, + rent always payable in advance—from the submerged, too!—average + six shillings and sixpence per week per room, why, that is L120 per week, + or L6,240 annually from forty-one houses, if they are regularly occupied. + Truly furnished apartments specially provided for the submerged are extra + specially adapted to the purpose of keeping them submerged. + </p> + <p> + As no deputy disputes our entrance, we enter and proceed to gain some + knowledge of the tenants, and take some stock of their rooms and + furniture. + </p> + <p> + The rooms are simply but by no means sweetly furnished! Here is an + inventory and a mental picture of one room. A commodious bed with dirty + appointments that makes us shudder! A dirty table on which are some odds + and ends of unclean crockery, a couple of cheap Windsor chairs, a + forbidding-looking chest of drawers, a rusty frying-pan, a tin kettle, a + teapot and a common quart jug. He would be a bold man that bid ten + shillings for the lot, unless he bought them as a going concern. A cheap + and nasty paper covers the wall, excepting where pieces have been torn + away, and the broken walls are made of lath and plaster, to provide + splendid cover for innumerable insects which remain in undisputed + possession. + </p> + <p> + One floor much resembles another, but the basement and the top storey + rooms are the worst of all. We look through the window of a second floor + back room, and see the out premises, but one look is sufficient. + </p> + <p> + We want to know something of the tenants, so we enter into conversation + with them, and find them by no means reserved. + </p> + <p> + Room 1. Husband and wife about thirty-five years of age, no children; + husband has been ill for some months, during which the rent got behind. + When he was taken to the infirmary they lost their home altogether; she + did washing and charing for a time, but ultimately got into the "House." + </p> + <p> + When her husband got better, and was discharged from the infirmary, his + old mates collected ten shillings for him, he took the room in which they + now lived, and of course she joined him. + </p> + <p> + How did they live? Well, it was hardly living; her husband looked round + every day and managed to "pick up something," and she got a day or two + days' work every week—their rent was always paid in advance. What + happened when her husband did not "pick up something" she did not say, but + semi-starvation seemed the only alternative. + </p> + <p> + No. 2. Husband, wife and a girl of seven engaged in making coarse paper + flowers of lurid hue. They had been in that room for six months; they sold + the paper flowers in the streets, but being summer time they did not sell + many. At Christmas time people bought them for decorations; sometimes + people gave the girl coppers, but did not take the flowers from her. The + police watched them very closely, as they required a licence for selling, + and if they took the girl out in the wet or dark the police charged them. + </p> + <p> + It was very difficult to live at all, owing to police interference. The + girl did not go to school, but they had been warned that she must go; they + did not know what they should do when she could not help them. + </p> + <p> + Room 3. A strong man about thirty, his wife and two young children. The + remains of a meal upon the table, a jug of beer and a smell of tobacco. + The man looks at us, and a flash of recognition is exchanged. He had been + released from prison at 8.30 that morning after serving a sentence of nine + months for shop robbery. + </p> + <p> + We asked how much gratuity he had earned. Eight shillings, he told us. His + wife and children had met him at the prison gate; they had come straight + to that room, for which the wife had previously arranged; they had paid a + week in advance. "What was he going to do?" "He did not know!" He did not + appear to care, but he supposed he "must look round, he would get the rent + somehow." We felt that he spoke the truth, and that he would "get the rent + somehow" till the police again prevented him. + </p> + <p> + We know that prison will again welcome him, and that the workhouse gates + will open to receive his wife and children, the number of which will + increase during his next detention in prison. + </p> + <p> + Room 4. Two females under thirty. No signs of occupation; they are not + communicative, neither are they rude, so we learn nothing from them except + that they were not Londoners. + </p> + <p> + Room 5. A family group, father, mother and four children; they had come to + Adullam Street because they had been ejected from their own home. Their + goods and chattels had been put on the street pavement, whence the parish + had removed them to the dust destructor, probably the best thing to do + with them. + </p> + <p> + The family were all unhealthy and unclean. The parents did not seem to + have either strength, grit or intelligence to fit them for any useful + life. But they could creep forth and beg, the woman could stand in the + gutter with a little bit of mortality wrapped in her old shawl, for + tender-hearted passers-by to see its wizened face, and the father could + stand not far away from her with a few bootlaces or matches exposed, as if + for sale. They managed to live somehow. + </p> + <p> + Room 6. An elderly couple who had possessed no home of their own for years + past, but who know London well, for the furnished lodgings of the east, + west, north and south are familiar to them. + </p> + <p> + He sells groundsel, she sells water-cress, at least they tell us so, and + point to baskets as evidence. But we know that groundsel business of old. + We have seen him standing in a busy thoroughfare with his pennyworth of + groundsel, and we know that though he receives many pennies his stock + remains intact, and we know also that pennyworths of water-cress in the + dirty hands of an old woman serve only the same purpose. + </p> + <p> + Room 7. Here we find a younger but not more hopeful couple; she is fairly + well dressed, and he is rather flashy. They have both food and drink. We + know that when the shades of night fall she will be perambulating the + streets, and he like a beast of prey will be watching not far away. So we + might go through the whole of the colony. There is a strange assortment of + humanity in Adullam Street. Vice and misery, suffering and poverty, + idleness and dishonesty, feeble-mindedness and idiocy are all blended, but + no set-off in virtue and industry is to be found. + </p> + <p> + The strong rogue lives next to the weak and the unfortunate, the hardened + old sinner next door to some who are beginning to qualify for a like old + age. The place is coated with dirt and permeated with sickening odours. + And to Adullam Street come young couples who have decided to unite their + lives and fortunes without any marriage ceremony; for in Adullam Street + such unions abound. + </p> + <p> + Young fellows of nineteen earning as much as twelve shillings a week + couple with girls of less age earning ten shillings weekly. It looks so + easy to live on twenty-two shillings a week and no furniture to buy, and + no parson to pay. + </p> + <p> + So a cheap ring is slipped on, and hand in hand the doomed couple go to + Adullam Street, which receives them with open arms, and hugs them so long + as six shillings and sixpence weekly is forthcoming in advance. Their + progress is very rapid; when the first child arrives, the woman's earnings + cease, and Adullam Street knows them no more. + </p> + <p> + Ticket-of-leave men, ex-convicts, heroes of many convictions, come to + Adullam Street and bring their female counterparts with them. They + flourish for a time, and then the sudden but not unexpected disappearance + of the male leads to the disappearance of the female. She returns to her + former life; Adullam Street is but an incident in her life. + </p> + <p> + So there is a continual procession through Adullam Street; very little + good enters it, and it is certain that less good passes out. + </p> + <p> + Where do its temporary inhabitants go? To prisons, to workhouses, to + hospitals, to common lodging-houses, to shelters, to the Embankment and to + death. + </p> + <p> + Although those who seek sanctuary in Adullam Street are already + inhabitants of the underworld, a brief sojourn in it dooms them to lower + depths. I suppose there must be places of temporary residence for the sort + of people that inhabit it, for they must have shelter somewhere. But I + commend this kind of property to the searching eyes of the local + authorities and the police. + </p> + <p> + But furnished apartments can tell another tale when they are not situated + in Adullam Street. For sometimes a struggling widow, or wife with a sick + husband, or a young married couple seek to let furnished apartments as a + legitimate means of income. When they do so, let them beware of the + underworld folk who happen to be better clothed and more specious than + their fellows, or they will bitterly rue it. + </p> + <p> + Very little payment will they get. Couples apparently married and + apparently respectable, but who are neither, are common enough, who are + continually on the look-out for fresh places of abode, where they may + continue their depredation. + </p> + <p> + They are ready enough with a deposit, but that is all the money they mean + to part with, and that has probably been raised by robbing their last + landlady. They can give references if required, and show receipts, too, + from their last lodgings, for they carry rent-books made out by themselves + and fully paid up for the purpose. They are adepts at obtaining entrance, + and, once in, they remain till they have secured another place and marked + another prey. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile their poor victims suffer in kind and money, and are brought + nearer destitution. I have frequently known a week's rent paid with the + part proceeds of articles stolen from either the furnished apartments, or + some other part of the house just entered. + </p> + <p> + I could tell some sad stories of suffering and distress brought to + struggling and decent people by these pests, of whom a great number are + known to the police. + </p> + <p> + And so the merry game goes on, for while vampires are sucking the impure + blood of the wretched dwellers in Adullam Street lodgings, the dwellers in + Adullam Street in their turn prey on the community at large. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the honest and unfortunate poor can scarcely find cover, and + when they do, why, then their thin blood is drained, for they have to pay + exorbitantly. + </p> + <p> + It is apparently easy to transmute wretched humanity into gold. But who is + going to call order out of this horrid chaos? No one, I am thinking, for + no one seems to dare attempt in any thorough way to solve the question of + housing the very poor, and that question lies at the root of this matter. + </p> + <p> + Let any one attempt it, and a thousand formidable vested interests rise up + and confront him, against which he will dash himself in vain. As to + housing the inhabitants of the underworld at a reasonable rental, no one + seems to have entertained the idea. + </p> + <p> + Lease holders and sub-lease holders, landlords and ground landlords, + corporations and churches, philanthropists and clergymen have all got + vested interests in house property where wretchedness and dirt are + conspicuous. "But," said a notable clergyman in regard to some horrid + slum, "I cannot help it, I have only a life-interest in it," as if, + forsooth, he could have more; did he wish to carry his interests beyond + the grave? I would give life-interest in rotten house property short + shrift by burning the festering places. But such places are not burned, + though sometimes they are closed by the order of the local authorities. + But oftener still they are purchased by local authorities at great public + cost, or by philanthropic trusts. Then the human rabbits are driven from + their warrens to burrow elsewhere and so leave room for respectability. + </p> + <p> + Better-looking and brighter buildings are erected where suites of rooms + are to let at very high prices. Then a tax is placed upon children, and a + premium is offered to sterility. Glowing accounts appear in the Press, and + royalty goes to inspect the new gold mine! We rub our hands with + complacent satisfaction and say, "Ah! at last something is being done for + housing the very poor!" But what of the rabbits! have they ascended to the + seventh heaven of the new paradise? Not a bit; they cannot offer the + required credentials, or pay the exorbitant rent! not for them seven + flights of stone stairs night and morning; it is so much easier for + rabbits to burrow underground, or live in the open. So away they scuttle! + Some to dustheaps, some back to Adullam Street, some to nomadic life. But + most of them to other warrens, to share quarters with other rabbits till + those warrens in their turn are converted into "dwellings," when again + they must needs scuttle and burrow elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Can it be wondered at that these people are dirty and idle; and that many + of them ultimately prefer the settled conditions of prison or workhouse + life, or take to vagrancy? + </p> + <p> + I cannot find a royal specific for this evil; humanity will, under any + conditions, have its problems and difficulties. Vagrants have always + existed, and probably will continue to exist while the human race endures. + But we need not manufacture them! Human rookeries and rabbit warrens must + go; England, little England, cannot afford them, and ought not to tolerate + them. But before we dispossess the rooks and the rabbits, let us see to it + that, somewhere and somehow, cleaner nests and sweeter holes are provided + for them. The more I think upon this question the more I am convinced that + it is the great question of the day, and upon its solution the future of + our country depends. + </p> + <p> + See what is happening! Thousands of children born to this kind of humanity + become chargeable to the guardians or find entrance to the many children's + homes organised by philanthropy. One course is taken the bright and + healthy, the sound in body and mind, are emigrated; but the smitten, the + afflicted, the feeble and the worthless are kept at home to go through the + same life, to endure the same conditions as their parents, and in their + turn to produce a progeny that will burrow in warrens or scuttle out of + them even as their parents did before them. + </p> + <p> + But the feebler the life, the greater the progeny; this we cannot escape, + for Nature will take care of herself. We, may drive out the rabbits, we + may imprison and punish them, we may compel them to live in Adullam Street + or in lazar houses, we may harry them and drive them hither and thither, + we may give them doles of food on the Embankment or elsewhere. We may give + them chopping wood for a day, we may lodge them for a time in labour + homes; all this we may do, but we cannot uplift them by these methods. We + cannot exterminate them. But by ignoring them we certainly give them an + easy chance of multiplying to such a degree that they will constitute a + national danger. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE DISABLED + </h2> + <p> + In this chapter I want to speak of those who suffer from physical + disabilities, either from birth, the result of accident, or disease. If + this great army of homeless afflicted humanity were made to pass in + procession before us, it would, I venture to say, so touch our hearts that + we should not want the procession repeated. + </p> + <p> + Nothing gives us more pleasure than the sight of a number of people who, + suffering from some one or other physical deprivation, are being taught + some handicraft by which they will be able to earn a modest living. + </p> + <p> + Probably nothing causes us greater sadness than the sight of deformed and + crippled men and women who are utterly unable to render any useful service + to the community, and who consequently have to depend upon their wits for + a miserable living. It is a very remarkable thing that an accident which + deprives a man of a leg, of an arm, or of eyesight, not only deprives him + of his living, but also frequently produces a psychological change. And + unless some counterbalancing conditions serve to influence in an opposite + direction he may become dangerous. It was not without reason that our + older novelists made dwarfs and hunchbacks to be inhuman fiends. Neither + was it without reason that Dickens, our great student of human nature, + made of Quilp a twisted dwarf, and Stagg a blind man his most dangerous + characters. Some years ago I was well acquainted with a very decent man, a + printer; he had lived for years beyond reproach; he was both a good + workman, husband and father. But he lost his right arm, the result of an + accident at his work, and his character changed from that day. He became + morose, violent and cruel, and obsessed with altogether false ideas. He + could not reason as other men, and he became dangerous and explosive. Time + after time I have seen him committed to prison, until he became a hopeless + prison habitue. My experience has also shown me that physical deprivations + are equally likely to lead to sharpened wits and perverted moral sense as + to explosive and cruel violence. Probably this is natural, for nature + provides some compensation to those who suffer loss. + </p> + <p> + This is what makes the army of the physically handicapped so dangerous. + The disabled must needs live, and their perverted moral sense and + sharpened wits enable them to live at the expense of the public. + </p> + <p> + Very clever, indeed, many of these men are; they know how to provoke pity, + and they know how to tell a plausible tale. Many of them can get money + without even asking for it. They know full well the perils that environ + the man who begs. I am not ashamed to say that I have been frequently + duped by such fellows, and have learned by sad experience that my wits + cannot cope with theirs, and that my safety lies in hasty retreat when + they call upon me, for I have always found that conversation with them + leads to my own undoing. + </p> + <p> + Witness the following. One winter night my eldest son, who lives about a + mile away, went out to post a letter at midnight. After dropping his + letter in the pillar-box, he was surprised to hear a voice say, "Will you + kindly show me the way to Bridlington?" "Bridlington! why, it is more than + two hundred miles away." The request made my son gasp, for, as I have + said, it was winter and midnight. + </p> + <p> + The audacity of the request, however, arrested his attention, and that + doubtless was the end to be secured. So a conversation followed. The + inquirer was a Scotchman about thirty years of age; he wore dark glasses + and was decently clad; he had been discharged from St. Bartholomew's + Hospital. He was a seaman, but owing to a boiler explosion on board he had + been treated in the hospital. Now he must walk to Bridlington, where an + uncle lived who would give him a home. He produced a letter from his + uncle, but he had either lost or torn up the envelope. All this and more + he told my son with such candour and sincerity, that he was soon the + poorer by half-a-crown. Then, to improve the fellow's chance of getting to + Bridlington, he brought him to me. I was enjoying my beauty sleep when + that ill-fated knock aroused me. Donning a warm dressing-gown and + slippers, I went down to the front door, and very soon the three of us + were shivering round the remains of a fire in my dining-room. + </p> + <p> + Very lucidly and modestly Angus repeated the above story, not once did he + falter or trip. He showed me the letter from his uncle, he pointed out the + condition of his eyes and the scars on his face; with some demur he + accepted my half-crown, saying that he did not ask for anything, and that + all he wanted was to get to Bridlington. + </p> + <p> + In my pyjamas and dressing-gown I explored the larder and provided him + with food, after which my son escorted him to the last tramcar, saw him + safely on his way to the Seamen's Institute with a note to the manager + guaranteeing the expense of his bed and board for a few days. + </p> + <p> + Next day my son visited the Seamen's Institute, but alas! Angus was not + there, he had not been there. Nevertheless the manager knew something of + him, for three separate gentlemen had sent Angus to the institute. One had + found him in the wilds of Finchley looking for Bridlington! Another had + found him pursuing the same quest at Highgate, while still another had + come on him, with his dark glasses, bundle and stick, looking for + Bridlington on the road to Southgate. + </p> + <p> + I do not know whether the poor fellow ever arrived at Bridlington, but + this I do know, that he has found his way northwards, and that he is now + groping and inquiring for Dawlish in Devonshire. + </p> + <p> + The Manchester Guardian tells us that one silent evening hour poor Angus + was discovered in several different places in the vicinity of Manchester. + The same paper of the next day's date stated that eleven out of the twelve + who met poor Angus were so overcome by the poignancy of his narrative and + the stupendous character of his task, that they promptly gave him + financial assistance. I am strongly of the opinion that the twelfth man + was entirely without money at the time he met Angus, or I feel that he + would have proved no exception to the rule. In my heart I was glad to find + that the hard-headed citizens of Manchester are just as kind-hearted and + likely to be imposed upon as we are in London. + </p> + <p> + But Angus has been playing his fame for six years at least, for one + gentleman who gave him explicit directions more than five years ago writes + to the Manchester Guardian saying, "I am afraid he took a wrong turning." + </p> + <p> + It is evident that Angus has done fairly well at his business, and yet it + would appear that he never asked for a single penny since he first started + on his endless search. He always accepts money reluctantly, and I much + question whether the police have right to arrest him, or the gulled public + any ground to complain. + </p> + <p> + But if Angus should ever get to his kind uncle at Bridlington, and that + respected gentleman should return the five shillings we gave to help his + unfortunate nephew, I will promise to be more careful in pressing money + upon strangers in future. But whether the money comes to hand or not I + have made myself a promise, and it is this: never more to get out of a + warm bed on a cold night to open the house and entertain a half-blind man + that speaks with a rich Scotch accent. + </p> + <p> + But how clever it all is! Why, its very audacity ensures its success, and + Angus, for aught I know, has many fellow-craftsmen. Certainly if he is + alone he must be almost ubiquitous. But Angus and such-like are not to be + wondered at, for Nature herself endows all living things with the powers + to adapt themselves to circumstances and obtain the means of defence and + offence from their conditions. So Nature deals with the human family, in + whom the struggle for existence develops varied, powerful and maybe + dangerous characteristics. + </p> + <p> + At present it is nobody's business to see that the maimed, the halt, the + blind are taught and trained to be of some service, and made able in some + way to earn a subsistence. Philanthropy, it is true, does something, and + also those blessed institutions, the schools for the blind, and training + homes for the crippled. I never see such institutions without experiencing + great gladness, for I know how much evil they avert. But the great body of + the physically afflicted are without the walls and scope of these + institutions, consequently tens of thousands of men and women, because of + their afflictions, are enabled to prey upon the community with a cunning + that other people cannot emulate. + </p> + <p> + We hear daily of accidents. We learn of men and women losing arms, legs + and hands; our hearts are touched for a brief moment, then we remember the + particulars no more. The ultimate consequences are unseen, but they are + not to be avoided, for every cripple left uncared for may become a + criminal of dangerous type. + </p> + <p> + Their elemental needs and passions still exist, notwithstanding their + physical deprivations. They claim the right to eat and drink, they claim + the right of perpetuating their kind. + </p> + <p> + Some day perhaps the community will realise what the exercise of the + latter right means. Some day, and Heaven send that day soon, we shall be + horrified at the thought that a vast number of unfortunates exist among us + who, demanding our pity and our care, are going down to the grave without + that care to which their physical disabilities entitle them. + </p> + <p> + As we look at these unfortunates, feelings of pity, disgust or amusement + may be aroused, but one moment's reflection would convince us that these + afflicted homeless creatures manage to exist and extort an expensive + living from the community. + </p> + <p> + I have said that every disabled man is a potential criminal, and that + unless he receives some compensation giving him the means of earning + honestly his living, he is certain to be a danger or a parasite. This is + but natural, for in the first place his physical nature has received a + shock, has sustained an outrage, Nature strikes back, and some one has to + suffer. The loss of a limb means severed muscles, bones and nerves. Nature + never forgets that they ought to be there, but as they are not there she + does without them; but none the less she feels for them instinctively, and + becomes disappointed and bitter because she is refused the use of them. + </p> + <p> + Add to this the anxiety, the sufferings the amputated man feels when he is + also deprived of his means of livelihood, as well as his limb, and from + comfort comes down to penury. Perhaps he has been able hitherto to keep + his wife and children with a fair amount of comfort; now he is helpless + and has to depend upon them. + </p> + <p> + He may be of proud spirit, but he has to endure mortification by seeing + his wife labour and slave for him. He becomes moody, then passionate, a + little drink maddens him, then comes the danger. He does something, then + the police are required, and prison awaits him. There he thinks and broods + over his wrong, with bitterness and revengeful spirit. Perhaps his wife + has been compelled to give evidence against him; he remembers that, he + scores it up, and henceforth there is no peace for either of them! + </p> + <p> + Frequent convictions follow, ultimately the wife has to claim the + protection of the law, and gets a separation order on account of his + cruelty. Henceforward he is an outcast, his children and friends cast him + off, for they are afraid of him. But he lives on, and many have to suffer + because he has lost a limb. + </p> + <p> + We read a great deal about the development of character through suffering, + and well I know the purifying effects suffering has upon our race; but it + is well sometimes to look at the reverse side, and consider what evil + follows in the wake of suffering. + </p> + <p> + Blind men, the deaf and the dumb and the physically disabled need our + pitiful consideration. Some of the sweetest, cleverest, bravest men I know + suffer from great physical disabilities, but they have pleasures and + compensations, they live useful lives, their compensations have produced + light and sweetness, they are not useless in a busy world, they are not + mere cumberers of the ground. They were trained for usefulness whilst they + were young. + </p> + <p> + But a far different case is presented with the disabled among the very + poor. What chance in life is there for a youth of twenty who loses an arm + or leg? He has no friends whose loving care and whose financial means can + soften his affliction and keep him in comfort while training for service. + Who in this rich, industrial England wants such service as he can render? + Very few! and those who do make use of him naturally feel that his service + is not worth much. + </p> + <p> + Numbers of my acquaintances like Angus half lose their sight! Who requires + their service? No one! But these men live on, and they mean to live on, + and Nature furnishes them with the means by giving them extra cunning. + Many of these fellows, poor disabled fellows, inhabit the dark places of + the underworld. Let us call them out of their dark places and number them, + classify them, note their disabilities! + </p> + <p> + Truly they came down to the underworld through great afflictions. They + form the disabled army of civilisation's industrial world who have been + wounded and crippled in the battle. All sorts of accidents have happened + to them: explosions have blinded them, steam has scalded them, buffers + have crushed them, coal has buried them, trains have run over them, + circular saws have torn them asunder. They are bent and they are twisted, + they are terrible to look at; as we gaze at them we are fascinated. March! + now see them move! Did you ever see anything like this march of disabled + men from the gloom of the underworld? + </p> + <p> + How they shuffle and drag along; what strange, twisted and jerky movements + they have; what sufferings they must endure, and what pain they must have + had. All these thoughts come to us as we look at the march of the disabled + as they twist and writhe past us. + </p> + <p> + The procession is endless, for it is continually augmented by men and + women from the upperworld, who as conscripts are sent to the army below, + because they have sustained injuries in the service of the world above. + </p> + <p> + So they pass! But the upperworld has not done with them; it does not get + rid of its natural obligations so easily. It suffers with them, and pays + dearly for its neglect of them. The disabled live on, they will not die to + please us, and they extract a pretty expensive living from the world + above. The worst of it is that these unfortunates prey also upon those who + have least to spare, the respectable poor just above the line. They do not + always sit at the gates of the rich asking for crumbs, for the eloquence + of their afflictions and the pity of their woes strike home to the hearts + and pockets of the industrious poor who have so little to spare. But it is + always much easier to rob the poor! + </p> + <p> + It is our boast that Englishmen love justice, and it is a true boast! But + when we read of accidents and of surgical operations, does our imagination + lead us to ask: What about the future of the sufferers? Very rarely, I + expect. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, we have got so used to this sight of maimed manhood that it + causes us but little anxious thought, though it may cause some feelings of + revulsion. + </p> + <p> + But there is the Employers' Liability Act! Yes, I admit it, and a blessed + Act it is. But the financial consideration given for a lost limb or a + ruined body is not a fortune; it soon evaporates, then heigho! for the + underworld, for bitterness and craft. + </p> + <p> + But all accidents do not come within the scope of that Act, not by any + means. If a married woman about to become a mother falls or rolls down the + stairs, when climbing to her home in the seventh heaven of Block-land, if + she sustains long injuries, who compensates her? If the child is born a + monstrosity, though not an idiot, who compensates for that? If the poor + must be located near the sky, how is it that "lifts" cannot be provided + for them? Who can tell the amount of maimed child, middle-aged and elderly + life that has resulted from the greasy stairs and dark landings of London + dwellings. Industrial life, commercial life and social life take a rare + toll of flesh and blood from the poor. For this civilisation makes no + provision excepting temporary sustentation in hospitals, workhouses or + prisons. Even our prison commissioners tell us that "our prisons are + largely filled with the very poor, the ignorant, the feeble, the incapable + and the incapacitated." + </p> + <p> + It would appear that if we can make no other provision for the disabled, + we can make them fast in prison for a time. But that time soon passes, and + their poor life is again resumed. But the disabled are not the only + suffering unfortunates in the netherworld who, needing our pity, receive + the tender mercies of prison. For there epileptics abide or roam in all + the horror of their lives "oft-times in water and oft-times in the fire," + a burden to themselves, a danger to others. Shut out from industrial life + and shut out from social life. Refused lodgings here and refused lodgings + there. Sometimes anticipating fits, sometimes recovering from fits; + sometimes in a semi-conscious state, sometimes in a state of madness. + Never knowing what may happen to them, never knowing what they may do to + others. Always suffering, always hopeless! Treated as criminals till their + deeds are fatal, then certified to be "criminal lunatics." Such is the + life of the underworld epileptic. Life, did I call it?—let me + withdraw that word; it is the awful, protracted agony of a living death, + in which sanity struggles with madness, rending and wounding a poor human + frame. Happy are they when they die young! but even epileptics live on and + on; but while they live we consign them to the underworld, where their + pitiful cry of "Woe! woe!" resounds. + </p> + <p> + Do not say this is an exaggeration, for it is less than truth, not beyond + it. Poe himself, with all his imagination and power, could not do full + justice to this matter. + </p> + <p> + Mendicity societies in their report tell of cunning rascals who impose on + the public by simulating "fits"; they tell of the "king of fits," the + "soap fits king," and others. They point with some satisfaction to the + convictions of these clever rogues, and claim some credit in detecting + them. + </p> + <p> + Their statements are true! But why are they true? Because real epileptics + are so common in the underworld, and their sufferings so palpable and + striking, that parasites, even though afflicted themselves, nay, because + of their own disabilities, can and do simulate the weird sufferings of + epileptics. Will mendicity societies, when they tell us about, enumerate + for us, and convict for us the hoary impostors, also tell us about and + enumerate for us the stricken men and women who are not impostors, and + whose fits are unfortunately genuine? + </p> + <p> + If some society will do this, they will do a great public service; but at + present no one does it, so this world of suffering, mystery and danger + remains unexplored. + </p> + <p> + I do not wonder that the ancients thought that epileptics suffered from + demoniacal possessions; perhaps they do, perhaps we believe so still. At + any rate we deal with them in pretty much the same way as in days of old. + The ancients bound them with chains; we are not greatly different—we + put them in prison. The ancients did allow their epileptics to live in the + tombs, but we allow them no place but prison, unless their friends have + money! + </p> + <p> + But let me end the subject by stating that the non-provision for + epileptics is a national disgrace and a national danger. That + incarceration of epileptics in prison and their conviction as criminals is + unjust and cruel. That it is utterly impossible for philanthropy to + restrain, detain and care for epileptics. That the State itself must see + to the matter! + </p> + <p> + But just another word: epileptics marry! Imagine if you can the life of a + woman married to an epileptic. + </p> + <p> + Epileptics have children of a sort! Can you imagine what they are likely + to be? You cannot! Well, then, I will tell you. Irresponsible beings, with + abnormal passions, but with little sense of truth and honour, with no + desire for continuous labour, but possessed of great cunning. The girls + probably immoral, the boys feckless and drunken. + </p> + <p> + We have to pay for our neglect; we have no pity upon epileptics. He and + his children have no pity for us! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. WOMEN IN THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + The women of the underworld may be divided into three great classes. Those + who by reason of their habits or mental peculiarities prefer to live + homeless lives. Secondly, those whom misfortune has deprived of settled + home life. Thirdly, those who, having settled homes, live at starvation + point. + </p> + <p> + In London there is a great number of each class. With class one I shall + deal briefly, for they do not form a pleasant theme. The best place to + study these wild homeless women is Holloway Prison, for here you will find + them by the hundreds any day you please. In Holloway Prison during one + year 933 women who had been in that gaol more than ten times were again + received into it. + </p> + <p> + I am privileged sometimes to address them. As I write I see them sitting + before me. After one of my addresses I was speaking to one of the + wardresses about their repeated convictions, when the wardress said— + </p> + <p> + "Oh, sir, we are glad to see them come back again, for we know that they + are far better off with us than they are at liberty. They go out clean and + tidy with very much better health than they came in. It seems cruel to let + them out, to live again in dirt and misery, and though we have an + unpleasant duty to perform in cleansing them when they return, we feel + some comfort in the thought that for a short time they will be cared for. + Why, sir, it is prison and prison alone that keeps them alive." + </p> + <p> + Now this army of women is a dolorous army in all truth, for their faces, + their figures are alike strange and repulsive, and many of them seem to be + clothed with the cerements of moral and spiritual death. They are + frequently charged with drunkenness, stealing, begging, or sleeping out. + </p> + <p> + Their names appear on the "Black List," for the law says they are + "habitual inebriates," yet drink has little or nothing to do with their + actual condition. + </p> + <p> + Let any one look them in the face as I have looked them in the face, study + their photographs as I have studied them, and I venture to affirm that + they will say with me, "These women are not responsible beings." For years + I have been drumming this fact into the ears of the public, and at length + the authorities acknowledged it, for in 1907 the Home Office Inspector + issued a report on inebriate reformatories, and gave the following account + of those who had been in such institutions: 2,277 had been treated in + reformatories; of these he says 51 were insane and sent to lunatic + asylums, 315 others were pronounced defectives or imbeciles. Altogether he + tells us that 62 out of every hundred were irresponsible women and unfit + for social and industrial life. + </p> + <p> + My many years' experience of London's underworld confirms the testimony of + the Home Office, for I am persuaded that a very large proportion of + homeless women on our streets are homeless because they are quite unfitted + for, and have no desire for decent social life. + </p> + <p> + Should I be asked about the birth and parentage of these women, I reply + that they come from all classes. Born of tramps and of decent citizens, + born in the slums and sometimes in villas, almost every rank and station + contributes its quota to this class of wild, hopeless women. + </p> + <p> + But I pass on to the second class, those who by misfortune have become + submerged. This, too, is a large class, and a class more worthy of + sympathy and consideration than the others, for amongst them, in spite of + misfortune and poverty, there is a great deal of womanliness and + self-respect. Misfortune, ill-health, sorrow, loss of money, position or + friends, circumstances over which they have had but little or no control + have condemned them to live in the underworld. Such women present a + pitiful sight and a difficult problem. They cling to the relics of their + respectability with a passionate devotion, and they wait, hope, starve and + despair. + </p> + <p> + Often misfortune has come upon them when the days of youth were passed, + and they found themselves in middle age faced with the grim necessity of + earning a living. I have seen many of them struggle with difficulty, and + exhibit rare courage and patience; I have watched them grow older and + feebler. Sometimes I have provided glasses that their old eyes might be + strengthened for a little needlework, but I have always known that it was + only helping to defer the evil day, when they would no longer be able to + pay the rent for a little room in a very poor neighbourhood. My mind is + charged with the memory of women who have passed through this experience, + who from comfortable homes have descended to the underworld to wander with + tired feet, weary bodies and hopeless hearts till they lie down somewhere + and their wanderings cease for ever. + </p> + <p> + But before we consider these women, let us take a peep at the lower + depths. Come, then! Now we are in a charnel house, for we are down among + the drunken women, the dissolute women that stew and writhe in the + underworld, for whom there is no balm in Gilead and no physician. Now we + realise what moral death means. + </p> + <p> + Like the horde of Comus they lie prone, and wallow in their impurity. Hot + as the atmosphere is, feverish though their defiled bodies be, they call + for no friendly hand to give them water to cool their parched throats. The + very suggestion of water makes them sick and faint. + </p> + <p> + But a great cry smites us: "Give us drink! and we will forget our misery; + give us drink, and we will sing and dance before you! give us drink, and + you may have us body and soul! Drink! drink!" A passionate, yearning, + importunate cry everlastingly comes from them for drink. + </p> + <p> + Now with Dante we are walking in Hell; see, there is a form, half human + and half animal, creeping towards us with lewd look and suggestion. Yonder + is an old hag fearful to look upon. Here a group of cast-off wives, whom + the law has allowed outraged husbands to consign to this perdition; but + who, when sober enough, come back to the upperworld and drag others down + to share their fate. + </p> + <p> + Does any one want to know what becomes of the wives who, having developed + a love of drink, have been separated from their husbands, and cast + homeless into the streets? Here in this circle of Hell you may find them, + consigned to a moral death from which there is no resurrection. + </p> + <p> + And the idle, the vicious, the lustful and the criminal are here too. But + we leave them, and get back to the everlasting workers, the sober and + virtuous women of whom I have told. What a contrast is here presented! + Drunkenness, vice, bestiality and crime! Virtue, industry, honesty and + self-respect condemned to live together! But let us look and listen; we + hear a voice speaking to us— + </p> + <p> + "Dear Mr. Holmes, I am deeply interested in your work, and feel one with + you in mind and heart in the different troubles of human life, and of + their causes and consequences. I feel that if only my health was better, + and I was placed in some other sphere of life, that I would do something + to help on your good work. But, alas! I shall never be strong again; the + hard grinding for a miserable pittance gives me no chance to get + nourishing food and recover my strength. Some people say to me, 'Why don't + you go into the workhouse or the infirmary?' This I bear in silence, but + it is simply killing me in a slow way. Oh! that it should take so long to + kill some of us. It makes me sad to think that so many lives are wrecked + in this way, that so many are driven to wrong, that so many others should + drift away into lives of hopelessness. I have been stripped of all, and I + am waiting for the worst." + </p> + <p> + Can any language beat that for lucidity and pathos? My readers will, I am + sure, recognise that those are the words of an educated woman. Yes, her + education was begun in England and finished on the Continent. Were I to + mention the name of the writer's mother, hearts would leap, for that name + lives in story and song. + </p> + <p> + But her parents died and left no competence, her health failed, and + teaching became impossible. All she now requires is an out-patient's + ticket for a chest hospital. + </p> + <p> + She is a "trouser finisher," and earns one penny per hour; sometimes she + lies on her bed while at work. But by and by she will not be able to earn + her penny per hour; then there will be "homelessness," but not the + workhouse for her. + </p> + <p> + But the voice speaks again: "Dear Mr. Holmes, please excuse me not + thanking you sooner for offering me a hospital letter. I shall, indeed, be + very grateful for one when able to get about, for I shall need something + to set me up a bit. + </p> + <p> + "At present I am very sadly indeed; my foot seems very much better, yet + not right, the sister thinks. To make matters worse, I have a very bad + gathered finger, and this week I have not been able to do a stitch of + work; indeed, it is very little that I have been able to do this last ten + weeks. Oh, the cruel oppression of taking advantage and putting extra work + for less pay, because I cannot get out to fetch it myself! + </p> + <p> + "The most I get is a penny per hour; it is generally less. Sister Grace + was so vexed by the rude message he sent to-day while she was here, + because I could not do the work, that she sent a letter to him telling him + the fact of my suffering. She thinks I am in a very bad state through + insufficient food, and, Mr. Holmes, it is true! for no one but God and + myself really know how I have existed. I rarely know what it is to get a + proper meal, for often I do not expend a sixpence on food in a week when I + pay my way, and thank God I have been able to do this up to the present + somehow or other; but all my treasures are gone, and I look round and + wonder what next! + </p> + <p> + "My eyes rest on my dear old violin, which is a memory of the past, + although long silent. It has been a great grief to me the parting with one + thing after another, but I go on hoping for better days that I may regain + them; alas! many are now beyond recall. + </p> + <p> + "The parish doctor has been suggested again, but I feel I would rather die + than submit, after all this long struggle and holding out, especially, as + I have been able to keep things a little near the mark; when they get + beyond me, rather than debt I must give in! + </p> + <p> + "Still, I hope for better days, and trust things will brighten for me and + others, for God knows there are many silent sufferers ebbing their lives + away, plodding and struggling with life's battle. My heart bleeds for + them, yet I am powerless to help them or myself." + </p> + <p> + Time and space do not avail, or I could tell story after story of such + lives, for in the underworld they are numerous enough. Who can wonder that + some of them "are made bitter by misfortune"? Who can wonder that others + "are driven to wrong"? Who can be surprised that "many drift into lives of + hopeless uselessness"? Surely our friend knew what she was talking about, + in the underworld though she be. She sees that there are deeps below the + depths, that she herself is in. Though ill, starving and hopeless about + her own future, she is troubled for others, for she adds, "since I have + known the horror of this life, my heart goes out to others that are + enduring it." + </p> + <p> + Now this class of woman is not much in evidence till the final catastrophe + comes, when the doors of a one-roomed home are closed against them. Even + then they do not obtrude themselves on our observation, for they hide + themselves away till the river or canal gives up its dead. + </p> + <p> + But it is not every woman that maintains such a high tone, for once in the + underworld the difficulty of personal cleanliness confronts them, and dirt + kills self-respect. Poverty makes them acquainted with both physical and + moral dirt, and the effect of one night in a shelter or lodging-house is + often sufficient to destroy self-respect and personal cleanliness for + life. + </p> + <p> + I am quite sure that I am voicing the opinion of all who have knowledge of + the underworld in which such women are compelled to live, when I say that + the great want in London and in all our large towns is suitable and + well-managed lodging-houses under municipal control and inspection, where + absolute cleanliness and decency can be assured. Lodging-houses to which + women in their hour of sore need may turn with the certainty that their + self-respect will not be destroyed. But under the present conditions + decent women have no chance of retaining their decency or recovering their + standing in social life. + </p> + <p> + Listen again! a widowed tooth-brush maker speaks to us: "Dear Mr. Holmes, + I feel that I must thank you for still allowing me a pension, and I do + thank you so much in increasing it. When I received it my heart was so + full of joy that I could not speak. My little boys are growing, and they + require more than when my husband died six years ago. I am sure it has + been a great struggle, but I have found such a great help in you, I do not + know how to thank you for all that you have done for me and many poor + workers. + </p> + <p> + "I do hope that God will still give you health and strength to carry on + the good work which you are doing for us. When I last spoke to you I + thought my little boys were much better, but I am sorry to say that when I + took them to Great Ormond Street Hospital, they said they were both + suffering from heart disease, and I was to keep them from school for a + time; and they also suffer from rheumatics. They are to get out all they + can. I have been taking them to the hospital for over two years, and + sometimes I feel downhearted, as I had hoped they would have improved + before this. + </p> + <p> + "The eldest boy does not have fits now, and this I am thankful for. But I + feel that I am wasting a lot of your time reading this letter, so I must + thank you very much for all your great goodness to me." + </p> + <p> + But one of the boys is now dead, to the other "fits" have returned, and + the widow still sits, sits and sits at her tooth-brushes in poverty and + hunger. + </p> + <p> + Listen to an old maid's story; she is a shoe machinist: "Yes, sir, I have + kept them for six years, and I hope to keep them till they can keep + themselves, and then perhaps they will help to keep me." + </p> + <p> + The speaker was a worn and feeble woman of fifty-five years, at least that + was the age she gave me, and most certainly she did not look less. We were + talking about her two boys, her nephews, whose respective ages were eleven + and thirteen. + </p> + <p> + "Both their parents died six years ago; their father was my only brother, + and their mother had neither brothers nor sisters! Of course I took them; + what else could I do? What! Send them to the workhouse? Not while I can + work for them. Ah, sir! you were only joking!" In this she was partly + right, for I had merely offered the suggestion in order to draw her out. + </p> + <p> + "So after the double funeral they came to live with you?" "Yes." "Did + their parents leave any money?" "Money, no! How can poor people leave any + money? their club money paid for the funeral and the doctor's bill." "So + they owed nothing?" "Not a penny; if they had, I should have paid it + somehow." + </p> + <p> + And doubtless she would, though how, it passes my wit to conceive. But + there, it would have meant only a few more hours' work daily for the brave + old spinster, but not for the boys, for they would have been fed while she + fasted, they would have slept while she worked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," she continued, "I am a boot machinist, and it is pretty hard work; + we had a tough time when I had to pay two shillings weekly for that + machine, but we managed, and now you see it is paid for, it is my own; but + really, times are harder for us. The boys are growing and want more food + and clothing; they go to school, and must have boots; it's the boots that + floor me, they cost a lot of money." + </p> + <p> + I called the boys to me and examined their boots; their old aunt looked as + if she was going to prevent me, but presently she said, "I had no work + last week, or I should have got him a pair." "Him" was the younger boy, + whose boots, or the remains of them, presented a deplorable appearance; + and, truth to tell, the elder boy's were not much better. So I said to the + brave old soul, "Look here, I will give these boys a good new pair of + boots each on one condition!" "What is that." "That you allow me to buy + you a pair." Again there was a look of resentment, but I continued, "I am + quite sure that you require boots as badly as your boys, and I cannot + think of them having nice boots and you going without, so I want you to + all start equal; kindly put out your foot and let me look." In a + shamefaced sort of a way she put her left foot forward; a strange, + misshapen, dilapidated apology of a boot covered the left foot. "Now the + right," I said. "Never mind looking at the other, it does not matter, does + it?" she said. "Yes, it does," so the right foot was presented; one glance + was enough! "That will do; come along for three pairs of boots." + </p> + <p> + They returned home, the boys rejoicing in their new boots, and their + feeble old aunt tolerating hers for the sake of her boys. Dear, brave, + self-denying, indomitable old maid. She had visited the fatherless in + their afflictions, she had toiled unceasingly for six long years, she had + taken willingly upon her weak shoulders a heavy burden; a burden that, + alas! many strong men are only too willing to cast upon others. She had + well earned her pair of boots, and sincerely do I hope that when her poor + feet get accustomed to their circumscribed area, and the pressure of + well-made boots has become comforting, that she will derive pleasure from + them, even though they represent "the first charity that I have ever + received." + </p> + <p> + But is it not wonderful, this marvellous self-denial of the very poor! + Other spheres of life doubtless produce many noble lives and heroic + characters, but was ever a braver deed done than this feeble and weary old + maid did? + </p> + <p> + And it was all so natural, so commonplace, so very matter-of-fact, for + when I spoke warmly of her deed she said very simply, "Well, what else + could I do!" + </p> + <p> + And in the underworld, amidst the dirt and squalor, the poverty, the high + rents, and the poor, poor earnings of poor, poor women, there are plenty + like her. + </p> + <p> + God grant that when the lads can work they will lighten her burdens and + cheer her heart by working for her who had worked so hard for them. + </p> + <p> + Listen also to the story of the blouse-makers disclosed to the upper world + by the Press. + </p> + <p> + "A pathetic story of poverty was told to the Hackney coroner, who held an + inquiry into the death of Emily Langes, 59, a blouse-maker of Graham Road, + Dalston. Death was due to starvation. + </p> + <p> + "Annie Marie, an aged sister, said they had both been in great poverty for + a very long time. They had worked at blouse-making as long as they could, + but that work had fallen off so much that really all they had got to live + on was by selling off their home. + </p> + <p> + "They had not enough to live on, and had to pay four shillings and + sixpence rent. + </p> + <p> + "The coroner: 'Selling your home will soon come to an end. You had best + apply in the proper direction for help; the parish must bury her. Don't go + on ruining yourself by selling off things.' + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Ingham, relieving officer for the No. 7 ward at Hackney, said that he + knew the old couple. He remembered giving relief to both sisters about two + months ago, but had had no application since. He offered the 'House' to + the living sister. + </p> + <p> + "A juror: 'Are questions put which might upset a proud respectable old + couple when they ask for relief?' + </p> + <p> + "Witness: 'Of course we have to inquire into their means pretty closely.' + </p> + <p> + "The coroner: 'It seems pretty clear that the old couple were too proud to + ask for help.' + </p> + <p> + "The jury returned a verdict that Emily Langes died from exhaustion caused + by want of food." + </p> + <p> + But listen again! as we stand in the land of crushed womanhood and + starving childhood. We hear a gentle voice, "Mother, it is nearly one + o'clock, the men have gone by from the public-house; you go to bed, dear, + and I will finish the work." A feeble woman, with every nerve broken, + rises from her machine, shakes her dress and lies down on her bed, but her + daughter sits on and on. + </p> + <p> + Oh the sighs and groans and accents of sorrow that come upon our listening + ears! Oh the weariness, the utter weariness of this land below the line! + </p> + <p> + Midnight! and thousands of women are working! One o'clock, and thousands + are still at it! Two o'clock, the widows are still at work! Thank God the + children are asleep. Three o'clock a.m., the machines cease to rattle, and + in the land of crushed womanhood there is silence if not peace. But who is + to pay? Shall we ultimately evolve a people that require no sleep, that + cannot sleep if they would? Is crushed womanhood to produce human + automatic machines? Or is civilisation generally to pay the penalty for + all this grinding of human flesh and blood? Let me tell the story of an + old machinist! I have told part of it before, but the sequel must be told. + I had made the acquaintance and friendship of three old women in Bethnal + Green who lived together, and collaborated in their work. They made + trousers for export trade; one machined, one finished, and one pressed, + brave old women all! They all worked in the machinist's room, for this + saved gas and coal, and prevented loss of time. At night they separated, + each going to her own room. The machinist was a widow, and her machine had + been bought out of her husband's club and insurance money when he died + twenty-one years before. I had often seen it, heard its rattle, and + witnessed its whims. + </p> + <p> + She once told me that it required a new shuttle, and I offered to pay for + one; but she said, "I cannot part with it; it will last my time, for I + want a new shuttle too!" + </p> + <p> + Six months after she was found dead in her bed by her partners when they + came to resume work. + </p> + <p> + Her words had come true! The old machine stood silent under the little + window; its old shuttle no longer whirred and rattled with uncertain + movements. It was motionless and cold. On a little bed the poor old brave + woman lay cold and motionless too! for the shuttle of her life had + stopped, never to move again. + </p> + <p> + The heroic partnership of the old women was broken, never in this world to + be resumed, and so two old hearts sorrowed and two troubled minds wondered + how they would be able to live without her. + </p> + <p> + I knew her well; it was my privilege to give her some happiness and some + change from grime and gloom, to take her away sometimes from the wayward + shuttle and rattling machine. I knew that she would have selected such a + death could she have chosen, for she dreaded the parish. I think, too, + that she would have wished for her old machine to be buried with her, and + for its silent shuttle to be beside her in her coffin. To her it was a + companion, and for it her husband died. Twenty-one years the machine and + herself had lived with each other and for each other. Sharing with each + other's toil, if not each other's hopes and fears! Working! working! + unceasingly through life—in death and rest they were not divided. + </p> + <p> + It was a blessed thing that her machine partner required no food, or life + would have been even more serious than it was. But it had its whims and + its moods, sometimes it resented everlasting work at three-half-pence per + hour for the pair of them, and it "jibbed." But a little oil and a + soothing word, and, it must be feared, sometimes with a threat, and the + old thing went again. + </p> + <p> + Surely it will be sacrilege for any one else to sit upon that old chair + and try to renew the life and motion of the old machine! + </p> + <p> + It is strange that this oppression of women which is the cause of my + greatest sorrow should also be the cause of my keenest joy. But it is so! + And why? Because I number two thousand of these underworld women slaves + among my personal friends, and I am proud of it! The letters I have given + are a few out of hundreds that I have received. I know these women as few + know them. I know their sufferings and their virtues, their great content + and their little requirements. I know that they have the same capabilities + for happiness as other people, and I know that they get precious little + chance of exercising those capabilities. Strange again, I get no begging + letters from them, though I do from others who are better placed. I + declare it to be wonderful! This endurance and patience of London's + miserably paid women. I tell you that I am the happiest man alive! Why? + Because during the present year a thousand of my poor friends from the + underworld came up for a time and had a fortnight, a whole fortnight's + rest each with food and comfort in a beautiful rest home by the sea. For + kind friends have enabled me to build one for them and for them alone! + </p> + <p> + And I was there sometimes to see, and it was good for me. So Mrs. Holmes + and myself make frequent visits to the rest home, and every time we visit + it we become more and more convinced that not only is it a "Palace + Beautiful," but that it is also a joy to the slave women who have the good + fortune to spend a holiday (all too short) in it. + </p> + <p> + Gloom cannot enter "Singholm" or, if it does enter, it promptly and + absolutely disappears. Ill-temper cannot live there, the very flowers + smile it away. The atmosphere itself acts like "laughing gas." So the + house fairly rings with merry laughter from elderly staid women equally as + from the younger ones, whose contact with serious and saddening life has + not been so paralysing to joyous emotions. + </p> + <p> + It did us good to hear such jolly laughter from throats and organs that, + but for Singholm, must have rusted and decayed. + </p> + <p> + One of our trustees was with us, it being his first visit to the home. I + know that he was surprised at the size, the beauty, the comfort and + refinement of the whole place. The garden filled him with delight, the + skill of the architect in planning the building, together with the style, + gave him increased pleasure. + </p> + <p> + The great drawing-room and the equally large dining-room rather astonished + him. The little bedrooms he declared perfect. But what astonished him most + of all was the unaffected happiness of the women; for this I do not think + he was prepared. Well, as I have said, gloom cannot live in Singholm, and + this I have found out by personal experience, for if I am quite cross and + grumpy in London, I cannot resist the exhilaration that prevails at + Singholm among London's underworld women. + </p> + <p> + I think I may say that our trustee was surprised at something else! But + then he is a bachelor, and so of course does not understand the infinite + resources of femininity. + </p> + <p> + "How nice they look," he said. "How well they dress"; and, once again, + "How clean and tidy they are; how well their colours blend!" + </p> + <p> + Thank God for this! we hold no truce with dirt at Singholm; we bid + dowdyism begone! avaunt! I will tell you a secret! Singholm demands + respect for itself and self-respect for its inmates. + </p> + <p> + Our trustee's testimony is true; the women belonging to our association do + look nice; when they are at Walton they rise to the occasion as if they + were to the manner born. + </p> + <p> + When, with their cheap white or blue blouses, they sit under the palms in + our drawing-room, all, even the oldest and poorest, neat—nay, smart + if you will—they present a picture that can only be appreciated by + those who know their lives. Some people might find fault, but to me the + colour and tone of the picture is perfect. + </p> + <p> + As there were seventy of them, there was room for variety, and they gave + it! Look at them! There they sit as the shades of night are falling. They + have been out all day long, and have come in tired. Are they peevish? Not + a bit! Are they downhearted? No! + </p> + <p> + There is my friend who makes no secret about it, and tells us that she is + forty-six years of age; this is the first time she has ever seen the sea, + and she laughs at the thought. The sun has browned, reddened and roughened + her face, and when I say, "How delicate you look," she bursts again into + merry laughter, and the whole party join her. Mrs. Holmes and myself join + in, and our worthy trustee, bachelor and Quaker though he be, laughs + merriest of all. + </p> + <p> + Aye! but this laughter was sweet music, but somehow it brought tears to my + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Now just look at my friend over there beside one of the palms, her feet + resting so naturally on the Turkey carpet! You observe she sits + majestically in a commodious chair; she needs one! For she is five feet + eleven inches in height, and weighs sixteen stone. I call her "The Queen," + for when she stands up she is erect and queenly with a noble head and + pleasing countenance. + </p> + <p> + She makes no secret about her age; "I am sixty, and I have been here four + times, and, please God, I'll come forty-four more times," and she looks + like it. But what if there had been no Singholm to look forward to year by + year? Why, then she would have been heavy in heart as well as in body, and + her erect form would have been bent, for she is a hard worker from Bethnal + Green. + </p> + <p> + The idea of coming forty-four more times to Singholm, and she sixty-six, + was the signal for more laughter, and again Singholm was tested; but our + builder had done his work well. + </p> + <p> + "Turn on the electric light, matron!" There is a transformation scene for + you! Now you see the delicate art colours in the Turkey carpets, and the + subdued colours in the Medici Society's reproduced pictures. + </p> + <p> + See how they have ranged their chairs all round by the walls, and the + centre of the room is unoccupied, saving here and there maidenhair ferns + and growing flowers. Now look at the picture in its fulness! and we see + poor old bent and feeble bodies bowed with toil, and faces furrowed by + unceasing anxiety; but the sun, the east wind, the sea air and Singholm + have brightened and browned them. + </p> + <p> + There is my poor old friend, long past threescore and ten, to whom + Singholm for a time is verily Heaven; but—"Turn on the gramophone, + please, matron." Thanks to a kind friend, we have a really good one, with + a plentiful supply of records. The matron, in the wickedness of her heart, + turns on an orchestral "cakewalk." The band plays, old bodies begin to + move and sway, and seventy pair of feet begin unconsciously to beat the + floor. Laughter again resounds; our Quaker himself enters into the spirit + of it, so I invite him to lead off with the "Queen" for his partner, at + which he was dismayed, although he is a veritable son of Anak. + </p> + <p> + But to my dismay the bent and feeble septuagenarian offered to lead off + with myself as partner, at which I collapsed, for alas, I cannot dance. + Then our trustee led the roars of laughter that testified to my + discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + So we had no dancing, only a cakewalk. But we had more merriment and + music, and then our little evening service. "What hymn shall we have?" + Many voices called out, "Sun of my soul," so the matron went to the piano, + and I listened while they sang "Watch by the sick, enrich the poor," which + for me, whenever the poor, the feeble and aged sing it, has a power and a + meaning that I never realise when the organ leads a well-trained choir and + a respectable church congregation to blend their voices. + </p> + <p> + Then I read to them a few words from the old, but ever new, Book, and + closed with a few simple, well-known prayers, and then—as old Pepys + has it—"to bed." + </p> + <p> + We watch them file up the great staircase one by one, watch them disappear + into their sweet little rooms and clean sheets. To me, at any rate, the + picture was more comforting and suggestive than Burne Jones's "Golden + Stairs." In fifteen minutes the electric light was switched off, and + Singholm was in darkness and in peace. But outside the stars were shining, + the flowers still blooming, the garden was full of the mystery of sweet + odours; close by the sea was singing its soothing lullaby, and God was + over all! + </p> + <p> + But let us get back to the underworld! + </p> + <p> + "How long have we lived together, did you ask? well, ever since we were + born, and she is sixty-seven," pointing to a paralysed woman, who was + sitting in front of the window. "I am two years younger," she continued, + "and we have never been separated; we have lived together, worked + together, and slept together, and if ever we did have a holiday, we spent + it together. And now we are getting old, just think of it! I am + sixty-five, isn't it terrible? They always used to call us 'the girls' + when mother, father and my brothers were alive, but they have all gone—not + one of them left. But we 'girls' are left, and now we are getting old—sixty-five—isn't + it terrible? We ought to be ashamed of it, I suppose, but we are not, are + we, dear? For we are just 'the girls' to each other, and sometimes I feel + as strong and as young as a girl." + </p> + <p> + "How long have you lived in the top of this four-storey house?" I asked. + "Sixteen years," came the reply. "All alone?" "No, sir, we have been + together." "And your sister, how long has she been paralysed?" "Before we + came to this house." "Does she ever go out?" "Of course she does; don't I + take her out in the bath-chair behind you?" "Can she wash and dress + herself, do her hair, and make herself as clean and tidy as she is?" "I do + it for her." + </p> + <p> + "But how do you get her down these interminable stairs?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "She does that herself, sitting down and going from step to step," she + said, and then added, "but it is hard work for her, and it takes her a + very long time." + </p> + <p> + "Now tell me," I said, "have you ever had a holiday?" "Yes, we have had + one since my sister became paralysed, and we went to Herne Bay." "Did you + take the bath-chair with you?" "Of course we did; how could she go without + it?" "And you pushed her about Herne Bay, and took her on the sands in + it?" I said. "Of course," she said quite naturally, as if she was + surprised at my question. "Now tell me how much rent do you pay for these + two rooms?" "Seven shillings and sixpence per week; I know it is too much, + but I must have a good window for her, where she can sit and look out." + "How do you do your washing?" "I pay the landlady a shilling a week to do + it." "How long have you worked at umbrella covering?" "Ever since we left + school, both of us; we have never done anything else." "How long have your + parents been dead" "More than forty years," was the answer. + </p> + <p> + To every one of the replies made by the younger sister, the paralytic at + the window nodded her head in confirmation as though she would say, "Quite + true, quite true!" + </p> + <p> + "Forgive me asking so many questions, but I want to understand how you + live; you pay seven-and-six rent, and one shilling for washing every week; + that comes to eight shillings and sixpence before you buy food, coal, and + pay for gas; and you must burn a lot of gas, for I am sure that you work + till a very late hour," and the elder sister nodded her head. "Yes, gas is + a big item, but I manage it," and then the elder one spoke. "Yes, she is a + wonderful manager! a wonderful manager! she is better than I ever was." + "Well, dear, you managed well, you know you did, and we saved some money + then, didn't we!" + </p> + <p> + "Ah! we did, but mine is all gone, and I can't work now; but you are a + good manager, better than I ever was." + </p> + <p> + I looked at the aged and brave couple, and took stock of their old but + still good furniture that told its own story, and said, "You had two + accounts in the Post-Office Savings Bank, and when you both worked you + saved all you could?" "Yes, sir, we worked hard, and never wasted + anything." Again the sixty-seven old girl broke in: "But mine is all gone, + all gone, but she is a wonderful manager." "And mine is nearly all gone, + too," said the younger, "but I can work for both of us," and the elder + sister nodded her head as if she would say, "And she can, too!" I looked + at the dozen umbrellas before me, and said, "What do you get for covering + these?" "Ah! that's what's called, vulgarly speaking, a bit of jam! they + are gents' best umbrellas, and I shall get three shillings for them. I got + them out yesterday from the warehouse, after waiting there for two hours. + I shall work till twelve to-night and finish them by midday to-morrow; + they are my very best work." Three shillings for a dozen! her very best + work! and she finding machine and thread, and waiting two hours at the + factory! + </p> + <p> + "Come," I said, "tell me what you earned last week, and how many hours you + worked?" "I earned ten shillings and sixpence; but don't ask me how many + hours I worked, for I don't know; I begin when it is light, because that + saves gas, and I work as long as I can, for I am strong and have good + health." "But," I said, "you paid eight shillings and sixpence for rent + and washing; that left you with two shillings. Does your sister have + anything from the parish?" I felt sorry that I had put the question, for I + got a proud "No, sir," followed by some tears from the sixty-five-year-old + "girl." Presently I said, "However do you spend it?" "Didn't I tell you + that I had saved some, and was drawing it? But I manage, and get a bit of + meat, too!" Again from the window came the words, "She is a good manager." + </p> + <p> + "What will you do when you have drawn all your savings?" "Oh! I shall + manage, and God is good," was all I could get. + </p> + <p> + A brave, heroic soul, surely, dwells in that aged girl, for in her I found + no bitterness, no repining; nay, I found a sense of humour and the + capability of a hearty laugh as we talked on and on, for I was in + wonderland. + </p> + <p> + When I rose to leave, she offered to accompany us—for a friend was + with me—downstairs to the door; I said, "No, don't come down, we + will find our way; stop and earn half-a-crown, and please remember that + you are sixty-five." "Hush!" she said, "the landlady will hear you; don't + tell anybody, isn't it awful? and we were called the girls," and she burst + into a merry laugh. During our conversation the paralysed sister had + several times assured me that she "would like to have a ride in a + motor-car." This I am afraid I cannot promise her, much as I would like to + do so; but the exact object of my visit was to make arrangements for "the + girls" to go to our home of rest for a whole fortnight. + </p> + <p> + And they went, bath-chair as well. For sixteen long years they had not + seen the sea or listened to its mighty voice, but for a whole fortnight + they enjoyed its never-ending wonder and inhaled its glorious breath. And + the younger "girl" pushed the chair, and the older "girl" sat in it the + while they prattled, and talked and managed, till almost the days of their + real girlhood came back to them. Dull penury and sordid care were banished + for a whole fortnight and appetite came by eating. The older "girl" said, + "If I stop here much longer, I know I shall walk," and she nearly managed + it too, for when helped out of her chair, she first began to stand, and + then to progress a little step by step by holding on to any friendly solid + till she almost became a child again. But the fortnight ended all too + soon, and back to their upper room, the window and the umbrellas they + came, to live that fortnight over and over again, and to count the days, + weeks and months that are to elapse before once again the two old girls + and an old—so old—bath-chair will revel and joy, eat and rest, + prattle and laugh by the sea. + </p> + <p> + But they have had their "motor ride," too! and the girls sat side by side, + and although it was winter time they enjoyed it, and they have a new theme + for prattle. + </p> + <p> + I have since ascertained that the sum of ten shillings, and ten shillings + only, remained in the Post-Office Savings Bank to the credit of the + managing sister. + </p> + <p> + But I have also learned something else quite as pitiful—it is this: + the allowance of coal during the winter months for these heroic souls was + one half-hundredweight per week, fifty-six lb., which cost them + eightpence-halfpenny. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. MARRIAGE IN THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + Young folk marry and are given in marriage at a very early age in the + underworld. Their own personal poverty and thousands of warning examples + are not sufficient to deter them. Strange to say, their own parents + encourage them, and, more strange still, upperworld people of education + and experience lend a willing hand in what is at the best a deplorable + business. + </p> + <p> + Under their conditions it is perhaps difficult to say what other course + can or ought to be taken, for their homes are like beehives, and + "swarming" time inevitably comes. That oftentimes comes when young people + of either sex are midway in their "teens." The cramped little rooms or + room that barely sufficed for the parents and small children are + altogether out of the question when the children become adolescent. The + income of the family is not sufficient to allow the parents, even if they + were desirous of doing so, taking larger premises with an extra bedroom. + Very few parents brace themselves to this endeavour, for it means not only + effort but expense. So the young folks swarm either to lodgings, or to + marriage, and the pretence of home life. + </p> + <p> + Private lodgings for girls are dangerous and expensive, while public + lodgings for youths are probably a shade worse. So marriage it is, and + boys of nineteen unite with girls one or two years younger. + </p> + <p> + I have no doubt that the future looks very rosy to the young couple whose + united earnings may amount to as much as thirty shillings weekly, for it + is an axiom of the poor that two can live cheaper than one. + </p> + <p> + It is so easy to pay a deposit on a single room, and so easy, so very + easy, to purchase furniture on the hire system. Does not the youth give + his mother ten shillings weekly? Why not give it to a wife? Does not the + girl contribute to her mother's exchequer? Why may not she become a wife + and spend her own earnings? Both are heartily sick of their present home + life, any change must be for the better! So marriage it is! But they have + saved nothing, they are practically penniless beyond the current week's + wages. Never mind, they can get their wedding outfit on the pay weekly + rule, the parson will marry them for nothing. "Here's a church, let's go + in and get married." Christmas, Easter or Bank Holiday comes to their aid, + and they do it! and, heigho! for life's romance. + </p> + <p> + The happy bride continues at the factory, and brings her shillings to make + up the thirty. They pay three shillings and sixpence weekly for their + room, one-and-six weekly for their household goods, two more shillings + weekly are required for their wedding clothes, that is all! Have they not + twenty-three shillings left! + </p> + <p> + They knew that they could manage it! All goes merrily as a marriage bell! + Hurrah! They can afford a night or two a week at a music-hall; why did + they not get married before? how stupid they had been! + </p> + <p> + But something happens, for the bride becomes a mother. Her wages cease, + and thirty shillings weekly for two is a very different matter to twenty + shillings for three! + </p> + <p> + They had to engage an old woman for nurse for one week only. But that cost + seven shillings and sixpence. A number of other extras are incurred, all + to be paid out of his earnings. They have not completed the hire purchase + business; they have even added to that expense by the purchase of a + bassinet at one shilling weekly for thirty weeks. The bassinet, however, + serves one useful purpose, it saves the expense of a cradle. + </p> + <p> + In less than a fortnight the girl mother is again knocking at the factory + door. She wishes to become an "out-worker"; the manager, knowing her to be + a capable machinist, gives her work, and promises her a constant supply. + </p> + <p> + Now they are all right again! Are they? Why, she has no sewing-machine! + Stranded again! not a bit of it. The hire purchase again comes to her + help. Eighteenpence deposit is paid, a like weekly payment promised, + signed for and attended to; and lo! a sparkling new sewing-machine is + deposited in their one room. Let us take an inventory of their goods: one + iron bedstead, flock mattress, two pairs of sheets, two blankets and a + common counterpane, a deal chest of drawers, a deal table, two Windsor + chairs, a bassinet carriage, a sewing-machine, fire-shovel, fender and + poker, some few crocks, a looking-glass, a mouth-organ and a couple of + towels, some knives, forks and spoons, a tea-pot, tea-kettle, saucepan and + frying-pan. But I have been very liberal! They stand close together, do + those household goods; they crowd each other, and if one moves, it jostles + the other. The sewing-machine stands in front of the little window, for it + demands the light. It took some scheming to arrange this, but husband and + wife ultimately managed it. The bassinet stands close to the machine, that + the girl mother may push it gently when baby is cross, and that she may + reach the "soother" and replace it when it falls from baby's mouth. + </p> + <p> + Now she is settled down! off she goes! She starts on a life of toil, + compared to which slavery is light and pleasant. Oh, the romance of it; + work from morn till late at night. The babe practically unwashed, the + house becomes grimy, and the bed and bassinet nasty. The husband's wages + have not risen, though his expenses have; other children come and some go; + they get behind with their rent; an "ejectment order" is enforced. The + wretched refuse of the home is put on the street pavement, the door is + locked against them, and the wretched couple with their children are on + the pavement too! The only thing to survive the wreck is the + sewing-machine. The only thing that I know among the many things supplied + to the poor on the hire system that is the least bit likely to stand the + wear and tear is the machine. Doubtless the poor pay highly for it; still + it is comforting to know that in this one direction the poor are supplied + with good articles. And the poor respect their machines, as the poor + always respect things that are not shoddy. + </p> + <p> + I have drawn no fancy picture, but one that holds true with regard to + thousands. Evils that I cannot enumerate and that imagination cannot + exaggerate wait upon and attend these unfortunate, nay, criminal + marriages; which very largely are the result of that one great + all-pervading cause—the housing of the poor. + </p> + <p> + But in the underworld there are much worse kinds of married life than the + one I have pictured, for those young people did start life with some + income and some hopes. But what can be said about, and what new + condemnation can be passed upon, the marriage of feeble-minded, + feeble-bodied, homeless wanderers? United in the bonds of holy matrimony + by an eager clergy, and approved in this deplorable step by an all-wise + State, thousands of crazy, curious, wretched, penniless individuals, to + whom even the hire system is impossible, join their hopeless lives. + </p> + <p> + Half idiots of both sexes in our workhouses look at each other, and then + take their discharge after a mutual understanding. They experience no + difficulty in finding clergymen ready to marry them and unite them in the + bonds of poverty and the gall of wretchedness. The blessing of the Church + is pronounced upon this coupling, and away they go! + </p> + <p> + Over their lives and means of living I will draw a veil, for common + decency forbids me to speak, as common decency ought to have forbidden + their marriage. + </p> + <p> + But down in the underworld, and very low down, too, are numberless couples + whose plight is perhaps worse, for they have at any rate known the refined + comfort of good homes, but remembrance only adds poignancy to suffering + and despair. + </p> + <p> + Read the following story, and after condemnation upon condemnation has + been passed upon the thoughtless or wicked marriages of the poor, tell me, + if you will, what condemnation shall be passed upon the educated when + they, through marriage, drag down into this inferno innocent, loving and + pure women? + </p> + <p> + It was Boxing Day in a London police-court. Twenty-five years have passed, + but that day is as fresh in my memory as though it were yesterday. The + prisoners' rooms were filled, the precincts of the court were full, and a + great crowd of witnesses and friends, or of the curious public, were + congregated in the street. + </p> + <p> + Yesterday had been the great Christian festival, the celebration of the + birth of the Prince of Peace, when the bells had rang out the old story + "Peace on earth, good-will to men." To-day it looked as though Hell had + been holding carnival! + </p> + <p> + Nearly one hundred prisoners had to come before the magistrate. I can see + them now! as one by one they passed before him, for time has not dimmed + the vivid picture of that procession. I remember their stories, and think + still of their cuts and wounds. Outside the court the day was dull, and + inside the light was bad and the air heavy with the fumes of stale debauch + and chloride of lime. And yesterday had been Christmas Day in the + metropolis of Christendom. + </p> + <p> + Hours passed, and the kindly magistrate sat on apportioning punishment, + fitting the sentence as it were by instinct. At two o'clock he rose for a + short recess, a hasty luncheon, and then back to his task. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the long procession came a smitten woman. Darkness and fog + now enveloped the court as the woman stood in the dock. Her age was given + as twenty-eight; her occupation pickle-making. First let me picture that + woman and then tell her story, for she represents a number of women into + whose forlorn faces I have looked and of whose hopeless hearts I have an + intimate knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Some men have conquered evil habits, helped by the love of a pure woman, + without which they would have vainly struggled or have readily succumbed. + But while I know this, I think of the women who have fastened the tendrils + of their heart's affection round unworthy men, and have married them, + hoping, trusting and believing that their love and influence would be + powerful enough to win the men to sobriety and virtue. Alas! how mistaken + they have been! What they have endured! Of such was this woman! There she + stood, the embodiment of woe. A tall, refined woman, her clothing poor and + sparse, her head enveloped in surgical bandages. + </p> + <p> + In the darkness of the Christmas night she had leaped from the wall of a + canal bridge into the murky gloom, her head had struck the bank, and she + rolled into the thick, black water. + </p> + <p> + It was near the basin of the Surrey Canal, and a watchman on duty had + pulled her out; she had been taken to a hospital and attended to. Late in + the afternoon the policeman brought her to the court, where a charge of + attempted suicide was brought against her. But little evidence was taken, + and the magistrate ordered a week's remand. In the cells I had a few + moments' conversation with her, but all I could get from her was the + pitiful moan, "Why didn't they let me die? why didn't they let me die?" + </p> + <p> + In a week's time I saw her again; surgical bandages were gone, medical + attention and a week's food and rest had done something for her, but still + she was the personification of misery. + </p> + <p> + I offered to take charge of her, and as she quietly promised not to repeat + the attempt, the magistrate kindly committed her to my care. So we went to + her room: it was a poor place, and many steps we climbed before we entered + it. High up as the room was, and small as were its dimensions, she, out of + the nine shillings she earned at the pickle factory paid three and + sixpence weekly for it. I had gathered from what she had told me that she + was in poverty and distress. So on our way I brought a few provisions; + leaving these and a little money with her, I left her promising to see her + again after a few days. But before leaving she briefly told me her story, + a sad, sad story, but a story to be read and pondered. + </p> + <p> + She was the only daughter of a City merchant, and had one brother. While + she was quite a child her mother died, and at an early age she managed her + father's household. She made the acquaintance of a clever and accomplished + man who was an accountant. He was older than she, and of dissipated + habits. Her father had introduced him to his home and daughter, little + thinking of the consequences that ensued. She had no mother to guide her, + she was often lonely, for her father was immersed in his business. + </p> + <p> + In a very short time she had fixed her heart on to the man, and when too + late her father expostulated, and finally forbade the man the house. This + only intensified her love and led to quarrels with her father. Ultimately + they married, and had a good home and two servants. In a little over three + years two children added to her joys and sorrows. Still her husband's + faults were not amended, but his dissipation increased. Monetary + difficulties followed, and to avoid disgrace her father was called upon to + provide a large sum of money. + </p> + <p> + This did not add to his sympathy, but it estranged the father and child. + </p> + <p> + Then difficulties followed, and soon her husband stood in the dock charged + with embezzlement. Eighteen months' imprisonment was awarded him, but the + greater punishment fell upon the suffering wife. Her father refused to see + her, so with her two little ones she was left to face the future. Parting + with most of her furniture, jewellery, servant, she gave up her house, + took two small rooms, and waited wearily for the eighteen months to pass. + </p> + <p> + They passed, and her husband came back to her. But his character was gone, + the difficulty of finding employment stared him in the face. + </p> + <p> + He joined the ranks of the shabby-genteel to live somehow by bits of + honest work, mixed with a great deal of dishonest work. Four years of this + life, two more children for the mother, increasing drunkenness, + degenerating into brutality on her husband's part. Her father's death and + some little money left to her gave momentary respite. But the money soon + went. Her brother had taken the greater portion and had gone into a far + country. This was the condition of affairs when her husband was again + arrested; this time for forgery. There was no doubt about his guilt, and a + sentence of five years' penal servitude followed. Again she parted with + most of her home, reducing it to one room. + </p> + <p> + With her four children round her she tried to eke out an existence. She + soon became penniless, and ultimately with her children took refuge in a + London workhouse. After a time the guardians sent the four children to + their country school and nursing home, when she was free to leave the + workhouse and get her own living. + </p> + <p> + She came out with a letter of introduction to the pickle factory, and + obtained employment at nine shillings a week. The weeks and months passed, + her daily task and common round being a mile walk to the factory, ten + hours' work, and then the return journey. One week-end on her homeward + journey she was attracted and excited by a fire; when she resumed her + journey she was penniless, her week's wages had been stolen from her. Her + only warm jacket and decent pair of boots then had to be pawned, for the + rent must be paid. Monday found her again at the monotonous round, but + with added hardships. + </p> + <p> + She missed the jacket and the boots, and deprived herself of food that she + might save enough money wherewith to take them out of pawn. Christmas Eve + came, and she had not recovered them. She sat in her room lonely and with + a sad heart, but there was mirth and noise below her, for even among the + poor Bacchus must be worshipped at Christmas time. + </p> + <p> + One of the women thought of the poor lone creature up at the top of the + house, and fetched her down. They had their bottles of cheap spirits, for + which they had paid into the publican's Christmas club. She drank, and + forgot her misery. Next morning, when the bells of a neighbouring church + were ringing out, they awoke her as she lay fully dressed on her little + bed. She felt ill and dazed, and by and by the consciousness came to her + of fast night's drinking. Christmas Day she spent alone, ill, miserable + and ashamed. "I must have been drunk!" she kept repeating to herself, and + on Christmas night she sought her death. + </p> + <p> + I wrote to kind friends, and interested some ladies in her welfare. Plenty + of clothing was sent for her; a better room, not quite so near the sky, + was procured for her. Her daily walk to the factory was stopped, for more + profitable work was given to her. Finally I left her in the hands of kind + friends that I knew would care for her. + </p> + <p> + Two years passed, and on Christmas Eve I called with a present and a note + sent her by a friend. She was gone—her husband had been released on + ticket-of-leave, had found her and joined her, and for a time she kept him + as well as herself. He was more brutal than before, and in his fury, + either drunk or sober, he frequently beat her, so that the people of the + house had to send them away. Where they had moved to, I failed to find + out, but they had vanished! + </p> + <p> + Fourteen months passed, and one bitterly cold day in February at the end + of a long row of prisoners, waiting their turn to appear before the + magistrate, stood the woman wretched and ill, with a puling bit of + mortality in her arms. + </p> + <p> + She was a "day charge," having been arrested for stealing a pot of + condensed milk. At length she stood before the magistrate, and the + evidence was given that she was seen to take the milk and hurry away. She + was arrested with the milk on her. + </p> + <p> + It was believed that she had taken milk from the same place at other + times. When asked what she had to say in extenuation, she held her child + up and said, "I did not take it for myself, I took it for this!" She did + not call it her child. The magistrate looked, shuddered, and sentenced her + to one day. + </p> + <p> + So once again I stood face to face with her, and face to face with a big + man who had been waiting for her, who insolently asked me what I wanted + with his wife. I turned from him to the woman, and asked if she would + leave him, for if so I would provide for her. + </p> + <p> + Mournfully she shook her head; leave him, no!—to the bitter end she + stood by him. + </p> + <p> + So they passed from my view, the educated brute and the despairing, + battered, faithful drudge of a woman, to migrate from lodging-house to + lodging-house, to suffer and to die! + </p> + <p> + If all the girls of England could see what I have seen, if they could + take, as I have taken, some measure of the keen anguish and sorrow that + comes from such a step, they would never try the dangerous experiment of + marrying a man in the hope of reforming him. Should, perchance, young + women read this story, let me tell them it is true in every particular, + but not the whole truth, for there are some things that cannot be told. + </p> + <p> + Again and again I have heard poor stricken women cry: "How can you! how + can you!" More than once my manhood has been roused, and I have struck a + blow in their defence. + </p> + <p> + If there is one piece of advice that, in the light of my experience, I + would like to burn into the very consciousness of young women, it is this: + if they have fastened their heart's love about a man, and find that + thorough respect does not go with that love, then, at whatever cost, let + them crush that love as they would crush a serpent's egg. + </p> + <p> + And the same holds good with men: I have known men in moments of passion + marry young women, trusting that a good home and an assured income would + restore them to decency and womanhood—but in vain! I saw a + foul-looking woman far from old sent again to prison, where she had been + more than a hundred times. She had also served two years in an inebriate + reformatory. Fifteen years ago, when I first met her, she was a + fair-looking young woman. Needless to say, I met her in the police-court. + A short time afterwards she came to tell me that she was married. She had + a good home, her husband was in good circumstances, and knew of her life. + A few years of home life, two little children to call her mother; then + back to her sensual ways. Prisons, rescue homes, workhouses, inebriate + reformatories, all have failed to reclaim her, and she lives to spread + moral corruption. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. BRAINS IN THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + I hope that, in some of my chapters, I have made it clear that a large + proportion of the underworld people are industrious and persevering. I + want in this chapter to show that many of them have also ability and + brains, gifts and graces. This is a pleasant theme, and I would revel in + it, but for the sorrowful side of it. + </p> + <p> + It may seem strange that people living under their conditions should + possess these qualities, but in reality there is nothing strange about it, + for Nature laughs at us, and bestows her gifts upon whom she pleases, + though I have no doubt that she works to law and order if we only + understood. + </p> + <p> + But we do not understand, and therefore she appears whimsical and + capricious. I rather expect that even when eugenists get their way and the + human race is born to order, that Dame Nature, the mother of us all, will + not consent to be left out of the reckoning. Be that as it may, it is + certain she bestows her personal gifts among the very poor equally with + the rich. She is a true socialist, and, like Santa Claus, she visits the + homes of the very poor and bestows gifts upon their children. + </p> + <p> + Some of the most perfect ladies I have ever met have been uneducated women + living in poverty and gloom. I do not say the most beautiful, for + suffering and poverty are never beautiful. Neither can rings of care + beneath the eyes, and countless furrows upon the face be considered + beautiful. But, apart from this, I have found many personal graces and the + perfection of behaviour among some of the poorest. All this I consider + more wonderful than the possession of brains, though of brains they are by + no means deficient. + </p> + <p> + Have you ever noticed how pretty the healthy children of the very poor + are? I am not speaking of unhealthy and feeble children, who are all too + numerous, but of the healthy; for, strange as it may appear, there are + many such, even in the underworld. Where do you find such beautiful curly + hair as they possess? in very few places! It is perfect in its freedom, + texture, colour and curl. Dame Nature has not forgotten them! Where do you + find prettier faces, more sparkling eyes and eager expressions? Nowhere! + And though their faces become prematurely old, and their eyes become hard, + still Dame Nature had not forgotten them at birth; she, at any rate, had + done her best for them. + </p> + <p> + Search any families, bring out the hundreds of pretty children, and I will + bring hundreds of children from below the line that will compare with them + in beauty of body, face and hair. But they must be under four years of + age! No! no! the children of the upperworld have not a monopoly of Dame + Nature's gifts. + </p> + <p> + And it is so with mental gifts and graces; the poor get a good share of + them, but the pity is they get so little chance of exercising them. For + many splendid qualities wither from disuse or perish from lack of + development. But some survive, as the following stories will prove. + </p> + <p> + It was a hot day in June, and, in company with a friend who wished to + learn something about the lives of the very poor, I was visiting in the + worst quarters of East London. + </p> + <p> + As we moved from house to house, the thick air within, and the dirt within + and without were almost too much for us. The box-like rooms, the horrible + backyards, the grime of the men, women and children, combined with the + filth in the streets and gutters, made us sick and faint. We asked + ourselves whether it was possible that anything decent, virtuous or + intelligent could live under such conditions? + </p> + <p> + The "place" was dignified by the name of a street, although in reality it + was a blind alley, for a high wall closed one end of it. It was very + narrow, and while infants played in the unclean gutters, frowsy women + discussed domestic or more exciting matters with women on the opposite + side. + </p> + <p> + They discussed us too as we passed, and audibly commented, though not + favourably, on our business. I had visited the street scores of times, and + consequently I was well known. Unfortunately my address was also well + known, for every little act of kindness that I ventured to do in that + street had been followed by a number of letters from jealous + non-recipients. + </p> + <p> + I venture to say that from every house save one I had received begging or + unpleasant letters, for jealousy of each other's benefits was a marked + characteristic of that unclean street. As we entered the house from which + no letter had been received, we heard a woman call to her neighbour, "They + are going to see the old shoemaker." She was correct in her surmise, and + right glad we were to make the old man's acquaintance; not that he was + very old, but then fifty-nine in a London slum may be considered old age. + He sat in a Windsor arm-chair in a very small kitchen; a window at his + back revealed that abomination of desolation, a Bethnal Green backyard. He + sat as he had sat for years, bent and doubled up, for some kind of + paralysis had overtaken him. + </p> + <p> + He had a fine head and a pointed beard, his thin and weak neck seemed + hardly able to bear its heavy burden. He was not overclean, and his + clothes were, to say the least, shabby. But there he sat, his wife at work + to maintain him. We stood, for there was no sitting room for us. Grime, + misery and poverty were in evidence. + </p> + <p> + He told us that his forefathers were Huguenots, who fled from France and + settled as silk weavers in Spitalfields. He had been apprenticed to boot- + and shoe-making, his particular branch of work having been boots and shoes + for actresses and operatic singers. That formerly he had earned good + money, but the trade declined as he had grown older, and now for some + years he had been crippled and unable to work, and dependent upon his + wife, who was a machinist. + </p> + <p> + There did not seem much room for imagination and poetry in his home and + life, but the following conversation took place— + </p> + <p> + "It is a very hard life for you sitting month after month on that chair, + unable to do anything!" "It is hard, I do not know what I should do if I + could not think." "Oh, you think, do you well, thinking is hard work." + "Not to me, it is my pleasure and occupation." "What do you think about?" + "All sorts of things, what I have read mostly." "What have you read" + "Everything that I could get hold of, novelists, poetry, history and + travel." "What novelist do you like best" The answer came prompt and + decisive: "Dickens," "Why?" "He loved the poor, he shows a greater belief + in humanity than Thackeray." "How do you prove that?" "Well, take + Thackeray's VANITY FAIR, it is clever and satirical, but there is only one + good character, and he was a fool; but in Dickens you come across + character after character that you can't help loving." + </p> + <p> + "Which of his books do you like best?" "A TALE OF TWO CITIES." "Why?" + "Well, because the French Revolution always appeals to me, and secondly + because I think the best bit of writing in all his books is the + description of Sydney Carton's ride on the tumbrel to the guillotine." + "Have you ever read Carlyle's FRENCH REVOLUTION?" "No" "I will lend it to + you." "If you do, I will read it." + </p> + <p> + "How about poetry, what poets do you like?" "The minor poets of two + hundred years ago, Herrick, Churchill, Shenstone and others." "Why do you + like them?" "They are so pretty, so easy to understand, you know what they + mean; they speak of beauty, and flowers and love, their language is + tuneful and sweet." Thus the grimy old shoemaker spoke, but I continued: + "What about the present-day poets?" Swift came the reply, "We have got + none." This was a staggerer, but I suggested: "What about Kipling?" "Too + slangy and Coarse!" "Austin?" "Don't ask me." "What of Wordsworth, + Tennyson and Browning?" "Well, Wordsworth is too prosy, you have to read + such a lot to get a little; Tennyson is a bit sickly and too sentimental, + I mean with washy sentiment; Browning I cannot understand, he is too hard + for me." + </p> + <p> + "Now let us talk: about dramatists; you have read Shakespeare?" "Yes, + every play again and again." "Which do you like best?" "I like them all, + the historical and the imaginative; I have never seen one acted, but to me + King Lear is his masterpiece." + </p> + <p> + So we left him doubled up in his chair, in his grime and poverty, lighting + up his poor one room with great creations, bearing his heavy burdens, + never repining, thinking great thoughts and re-enacting great events, for + his mind to him was a kingdom. + </p> + <p> + The next day my friend sent a dozen well-selected books, but the old + shoemaker never sought or looked for any assistance. + </p> + <p> + Only a few doors away we happened on a slum tragedy. We stood in a queer + little house of one room up and one down stairs. Let me picture the scene! + A widow was seated at her machine sewing white buckskin children's boots. + Time, five o'clock in the afternoon; she had sat there for many hours, and + would continue to sit till night was far advanced. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a girl of twelve burst in and threw herself into her mother's + arms, crying, "Oh, mother, mother, I have lost the scholarship! Oh, + mother, the French was too hard for me!" To our surprise the mother seemed + intensely relieved, and said, "Thank God for that!" + </p> + <p> + But the girl wept! After a time we inquired, and found that the girl, + having passed the seventh standard at an elementary school, had been + attending a higher grade school, where she had been entered for a + competitive examination at a good class secondary school. If she obtained + it, the widow would have been compelled to sign an agreement for the girl + to remain at school for at least three years. But the widow was + practically starving, although working fourteen hours daily. Verily, the + conflict of duties forms the tragedy of everyday life. The widow was saved + by the advanced French; poor mother and poor girl! + </p> + <p> + By and by the girl was comforted as we held the prospective of a bright + future before her, and got her to talk of her studies; she recited for us + a scene from AS YOU LIKE IT, and also Portia's speech, "The quality of + mercy is not strained." + </p> + <p> + Standing near was a boy of not more than ten years, who looked as if he + would like to recite for us, and I asked him what standard he was in. "The + sixth, sir." "And do you like English Literature?" He did not answer the + question exactly, but said, "I know the 'Deserted Village,' by Oliver + Goldsmith." + </p> + <p> + "Where was the 'Deserted Village'?" "Sweet Auburn was supposed to be in + Ireland, but it is thought that some of the scenes are taken from English + villages." + </p> + <p> + "Can you give us the 'Village Schoolmaster'?" And he did, with point and + emphasis. "Now for the 'Village Parson.'" His memory did not fail or trip, + and the widow sat there machining; so we turned to her for more + information, and found that she was a Leicester woman, and her parents + Scots; she had been a boot machinist from her youth. + </p> + <p> + Her husband was a "clicker" from Stafford; he had been dead eight years. + She was left with four children. She had another daughter of fourteen who + had done brilliantly at school, having obtained many distinctions, and at + twelve years had passed her "Oxford Local." This girl had picked up + typewriting herself, and as she was good at figures and a splendid writer, + she obtained a junior clerk's place in the City at seven shillings and + sixpence per week. Every day this girl walked to and from her business, + and every day the poor widow managed to find her fourpence that the girl + might have a lunch in London City. + </p> + <p> + I felt interested in this girl, so I wrote asking her to come to lunch + with me on a certain day. She came with a book in her hand, one of George + Eliot's, one of her many prizes. A fourpenny lunch may be conducive to + high thinking, may even lead to an appreciation of great novels: it + certainly leaves plenty of time for the improvement of the mind, though it + does not do much for nourishing the body. I found her exceedingly + interesting and intelligent, with some knowledge of "political economy," + well up in advanced arithmetic, and quite capable of discussing the books + she had read. Yet the family had been born in an apology of a house, they + had graduated in the slums, but not in the gutter. Their widowed mother + had worked interminable hours and starved as she worked, but no attendance + officer had ever been required to compel her children to school. It would + have taken force to keep them away. But what of their future? Who can say? + But of one thing I am very sure, and it is this: that, given fair + opportunity, the whole family will adorn any station of life that they may + be called to fill. + </p> + <p> + But will they have that opportunity? Well, the friend that was with me + says they will, and he has commissioned me to act for him, promising me + that if I am taken first and he is left, the cultured family of the slums + shall not go uncared for. And amidst the sordid life of our mean streets, + there are numbers of brilliant children whose God-given talents not only + run to waste, but are actually turned into evil for lack of opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Here and there one and another rise superior to their environment, and + with splendid perseverance fight their way to higher and better life. And + some of them rise to eminence, for genius is not rare even in Slumdom. + </p> + <p> + One of our greatest artists, lately dead, whose work all civilisation + delights to honour, played in a slum gutter, and climbed a lamp-post that + he might get a furtive look into a school of art. + </p> + <p> + All honour and good wishes to the rising young, but all glory to the + half-starved widows who shape their characters and form their tastes. To + the old shoemaker good wishes; may the small pension that a friend of mine + has settled on him add to his comfort and his health, may his beloved + minor poets with Dickens and Shakespeare long be dear to him, and may his + poor little home long continue to be peopled with bright creations that + defy the almost omnipotent power of the underworld. + </p> + <p> + If any who may read these words would like to do a kind action that will + not be void of good results and sure reward, I would say lend a helping + hand to some poor family where, in spite of their poverty and + surroundings, the children are clean and intelligent, and have made + progress at school. For they are just needing a hand, it may be to help + with their education, or it may be to give them a suitable start in life. + If the mother happens to be a widow, you cannot do wrong. + </p> + <p> + If one half of the money that is spent trying to help unhelpable people + was spent in helping the kind of families I refer to in the manner I + describe, the results would be surprising. + </p> + <p> + If there is any difficulty in finding such families, I would say apply to + the head mistress or master of a big school in a poor neighbourhood, they + can find them for you. If they cannot, why then I will from among my + self-supporting widow friends. + </p> + <p> + But do not, I beseech you, apply to the clergyman of the parish, for he + will naturally select some poor family to whom he has charitably acted the + part of relieving officer. Remember it is brains and grit that you are in + search of, and not poor people only. + </p> + <p> + If in every neighbourhood a few people would band themselves together for + this purpose and spend money for this one charitable purpose, it would of + itself, and in reasonable time, effect mighty results. Believe me, there + is plenty of brain power and grit in the underworld that never gets a + chance of developing in a useful direction. Boys and girls possessing such + talents are doomed, unless a miracle happens, for they have to start in + life anyhow and anywhere. + </p> + <p> + Nothing is of more importance than a correct start in life for any boy or + girl; but a false start, a bad beginning for the children of the very poor + who happen to possess brain power is fatal. Their talents get no chance, + for they are never used, consequently they atrophy, or, worse still, are + used in a wrong direction and possibly for evil. Good is changed into + evil, bright and useful life is frustrated, and the State loses the useful + power and influence that should result from brains and grit. + </p> + <p> + How can my widow friends, who are unceasingly at work, have either the + time, opportunity or knowledge to find proper openings for their children? + The few shillings that a boy or girl can earn at anything, or anyhow that + is honest, are a great temptation. The commencement dominates the future! + Prospective advantage must needs give place to present requirements. + </p> + <p> + So we all lose! The upperworld loses the children's gifts, character and + service. The underworld retains their poor service for life. + </p> + <p> + "It is better," said Milton, "to kill a man than a book." Which may be + true, but probably the truth depends upon the quality of the man and the + book. But what about killing mind, soul, heart, aspirations and every + quality that goes to make up a man? "Their angels do always behold the + face of my Father"; yes, but we compel them to withdraw that gaze, and + look contentedly into the face of evil. + </p> + <p> + I am now pleading for the gifted boys and girls of the underworld, not the + weaklings, for of them I speak elsewhere. But I will say, that while the + weaklings are the more hopeless, it is the talented that are the most + dangerous. Let us see to it that their powers have some chance of + developing in a right direction. When by some extraordinary concurrence of + circumstances a Council School boy passes on to a university and takes a + good degree, it is chronicled all over the world; the school, the teacher, + the boy and his parents are all held up for show and admiration. I declare + it makes me ill! Why? Because I know that in the underworld thousands of + men are grubbing, burrowing and grovelling who, as boys, possessed + phenomenal abilities, but whose parents were poor, so poor that their + gifted children had no chance of developing the talent that was in them. + Let us give them a chance! Sometimes here and there one and another bursts + his bonds, and, rejoicing in his freedom, does brilliant things. But in + spite of Samuel Smiles and his self-help they are but few, though, if the + centuries are searched, the catalogue will be impressive enough. + </p> + <p> + Of course there must be self-help. But there must be opportunity also. + There is a great deal of talk about the children of the poor being + "over-educated," and the delinquencies of the youthful poor are attributed + to this bogy. It is because they are under-educated, not over-educated, + that the children of the very poor so often go wrong. + </p> + <p> + But the attempt to cast them all in the same mould is disastrous; there is + an over-education going on in this direction. Not all the children of the + poor can be great scholars, but some of them can! Let us give them a + chance. Not all of them can be scientists and engineers, etc., but some of + them have talents for such things! Give them a chance! A good many of them + have unmistakably artistic gifts! Why not give them a chance too! And the + mechanically inclined should have a chance! Why can we not differentiate + according to their tastes and gifts? + </p> + <p> + For even then we shall have enough left to be our hewers of wood and + carriers of water; an abundance will remain to do all the work that + requires neither brains nor gifts. + </p> + <p> + But let us stop at once and for ever trying to cram thick heads and poor + brains with stuff that cannot possibly be appreciated or understood. Let + us teach their mechanical fingers to do something useful, and give them, + even the degenerates, some chance! + </p> + <p> + And we must stop our blind alley occupation for growing lads, for at the + end of the alley stands an open door to the netherworld, and through it + youthful life passes with little prospect of return. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. PLAY IN THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + It may seem a strange thing, but children do play in the underworld. They + have their own games and their times and seasons too! + </p> + <p> + Yet no one can watch them as they play without experiencing feelings more + or less pathetic. There is something incongruous about it that may cause a + smile, but there is also something that will probably cause a tear. + </p> + <p> + For their playgrounds are the gutters or the pavements. Happy are the + children when they can procure a spacious pavement, for in the underworld + wide pavements are scarce; still narrow pavements and gutters are always + to hand. + </p> + <p> + It is summer time, the holidays have come! No longer the hum, babble and + shouts of children are heard in and around those huge buildings, the + County Council schools. + </p> + <p> + The sun pours its rays into the unclean streets, the thermometer registers + eighty in the shade. Down from the top storey and other storeys of the + blocks the children come, happy in the consciousness that for one month at + least they will be free from school, without dodging the school attendance + officer. + </p> + <p> + "Hop-scotch" season has commenced, and as if by magic the pavements of the + narrow streets are covered with chalked lines, geometrical figures and + numerals, and the mysterious word "tod" confronts you, stares at you, and + puzzles you. + </p> + <p> + Who can understand the intricacies of "hop-scotch" or the fascination of + "tod"? None but the girls of the underworld. Simple pleasures please them—a + level pavement, a piece of chalk, a "pitcher," the sun overhead, dirt + around, a few companions and non-troublesome babies, are their chief + requirements; for few of these girls come out to play without the eternal + baby. + </p> + <p> + Notice first, if you will, how deftly these foster-mothers handle the + babies; their very method tells of long-continued practice. What slaves + these girls are! But they have brought the baby's feeding-bottle, and also + that other fearsome indispensable of underworld infant life, "the + comforter." + </p> + <p> + They are going to make a day of it, a mad and merry day, for they have + with them some pieces of bread and margarine to sustain them in the toil + of nursing and the exhaustion of "hop-scotch." + </p> + <p> + The "pitcher" is produced, and we notice how punctiliously each girl takes + her proper turn and starts from the correct place; we notice also the + dilapidated condition of their boots, that act as golf clubs and propel + the "pitcher." We wonder how with such boots, curled and twisted to every + conceivable shape, they can strike the "pitcher" at all. There is some + skill in "hop-scotch" played as these girls play it, and with their + "boots" too! + </p> + <p> + A one-legged game is "hop-scotch," for the left foot must be held clear of + the pavement, and the "pitcher" must be propelled with the right foot as + the girl "hops." + </p> + <p> + If she hops too high and misses it, she is "out"; if she strikes too hard, + and it travels beyond one of the boundaries, she is "out" too; if she does + not propel it far enough, again "out." + </p> + <p> + Why, of course there is skill and fascination in it, for it combines the + virtues of golf and baseball, and "tod" is quite as good as a football + goal. And there is good fellowship and self-denial going on, too; not + quite every girl, thank Heaven, is hampered or blessed with a baby, and we + notice how cheerfully they take their turn in nursing while the + foster-mother arrives at "tod." + </p> + <p> + The substitute, too, understands the use of the "comforter," for should it + roll in the dirty gutter she promptly returns it to its proper place, the + baby's mouth. Untidy, slatternly girls, not over-clean, not over-dressed, + and certainly not over-fed, we leave them to their play and their babies. + </p> + <p> + Here are a lot of half-naked boys, some standing, some sitting on the hot + pavement; they are playing "cherry hog"; why "hog" I don't know! Their + requisites are a pocketful of cherry stones and a small screw, not an + expensive outfit, for they save the "hogs" when they are permitted to eat + cherries, as sometimes, by the indulgence of a kindly fruiterer, they are, + for he kindly throws all his rotten or unsaleable fruit into the gutter. + </p> + <p> + If these are not to hand, there are plenty of "hogs" to be picked up. As + to the little screw, well, it is easy to get one or steal one. + </p> + <p> + The advantage of a screw is that it possesses a flat end, on which it will + stand erect. In this position it is delicately placed so that when struck + by a cherry "hog" it falls. Each boy in turn throws a certain number of + "hogs" at the screw, the successful thrower gathers in the spoil and goes + home with his pocket bursting with cherry "hogs." + </p> + <p> + It's an exciting game, but it is gambling nevertheless; why do not the + police interfere? + </p> + <p> + Here are some boys playing "buttons"—gambling again! This game is + good practice, too, and a capital introduction to that famous game of + youthful capitalists, "pitch and toss," for it is played in precisely the + same way, only that buttons take the place of half-pennies. + </p> + <p> + The road, gutter or pavement will do for "buttons"; a small mark or "jack" + is agreed upon, a line is drawn at a certain distance; alternately the + lads pitch their buttons towards the "jack," three buttons each. When all + have "pitched," the boy whose button is nearest the "jack" has first toss, + that is, he collects all the pitched buttons in his hand and tosses them; + as the buttons lie again on the ground the lads eagerly scan them, for the + buttons that lie with their convex side upwards are the spoil of the first + "tosser." The remaining buttons are collected by the second, who tosses, + and then collects his spoil, and so on till the buttons are all lost and + won. The boy whose buttons are farthest from "jack" of course gets the + last and least opportunity. When playing for halfpence, "heads or tails" + is the deciding factor. + </p> + <p> + Why, you say, of course it is a game of skill, just as much as bowls or + quoits; but there are also elements of luck about "pitch and toss" which + gives it an increased attraction. + </p> + <p> + Sunday in the underworld is the great day for "pitch and toss," for many + boys have halfpence on that day. They have been at work during the week, + and, having commenced work, their Sunday-school days are at an end. And + having a few halfpence they can indulge their long-continued and fervent + hope of discarding "buttons" and playing the man by using halfpence. + </p> + <p> + But how they enjoy it! how intent they are upon it. Sunday morning will + turn to midday, and midday to evening before they are tired of it! Meal + times, or the substitute for meal times, pass, and they remain at it! + always supposing their halfpence last, and the police do not interfere, + the latter being the most likely. + </p> + <p> + It takes an interminably long time to dispossess a lad of six halfpence at + this game; fortune is not so fickle as may be supposed. The unskilled + "pitcher" may have luck in "tossing," while the successful "pitcher" may + be an unlucky "tosser." If at the end of a long day they come off pretty + equal, they have had an ideal day. + </p> + <p> + But they have had their ups and downs, their alternations of joy and + despair. Sometimes a boy may win a penny; if so, it is evident that + another boy has lost one, and this is sad, though I expect they lose more + coppers to the police than they do to their companions, for the police + harry them and hunt them. Special constables are put on to detect them, + and they know the favourite resorts of the incipient gamblers. They hunt + in couples, too, and they enter the little unclean street at each end. + </p> + <p> + Now for the supreme excitement; they are observed by the watchful eye of a + non-player, who is copperless. There is a rush for the halfpence, some of + which the non-player secures. There's a scamper, but there is no escape; + the police bag them, and innocent boys who join in the scamper are bagged + too. The police search the ground for halfpence, find a few which they + carefully pack in paper, that they may retain some signs of dirt upon + them, for this will be invaluable legal evidence on the morrow. There is a + procession of police, prisoners and gleeful lads who are not in custody to + the nearest police-station. + </p> + <p> + On Monday they stand in the dock, when the police with the halfpence and + the dirt still upon them give evidence against them. + </p> + <p> + One worthy magistrate will ask them why they were not at home or school. + Another will sternly admonish them upon the evils of street gambling. A + third will tell them that it would have paid them better in health and + pocket to have taken a country walk. But all agree on one point, "that + this street gambling must be put down," and they "put it down," or attempt + to do so, by fining the young ragamuffins five shillings each. + </p> + <p> + The excitement of the cells then awaits them, to be followed by a free + ride in "Black Maria," unless "muvver" can pawn something and raise the + money, But many mothers cannot do this, others do not trouble; as to + "farver," well, he does not come in at all, unless it is to give a + "licking" to the boy when he comes out of prison for losing his job and + his wages. + </p> + <p> + Truly, the play of the underworld children is exciting enough: there is + danger attaching to it; perhaps that gives a piquancy to it. + </p> + <p> + The fascination of "pitch and toss" is felt not only all over England, + where it holds undisputed sway, for it has no real rival, but in America + too! Whilst in America last summer I explored the mean streets of New + York, and not far from the Bowery I found lots of lads at the game. It was + Sunday morning, too, and having some "nickels," I played several games + with them. I was but a poor pitcher, the coins were too light for me—perhaps + I could do better with solid English pennies—but what I lost in + pitching I gained in tossing, so I was not ruined, neither did the Bowery + lads sustain any loss. + </p> + <p> + But I found the procedure exactly the same as in England, and I felt the + fascination of it; and some day when I can afford it, I will have a lot of + metal counters made, and I will organise lads into a club; I will give + them "caps," and they shall play where the police won't interfere. + </p> + <p> + I will give them trophies to contend for, and Bethnal Green shall contend + with Holloway; a halfpenny "gate" would bring its thousands, and private + gain would give place to club and district "esprit de corps," for the lads + want the game, not the money; the excitement, not the halfpence. There is + nothing intrinsically wrong about "pitch and toss," only the fact that + ragamuffins play it. + </p> + <p> + There is a great deal of nonsense talked about the game by superior people + who pose as authorities upon the delinquencies of ragamuffin youth, and + who declaim upon the demoralisation attending this popular game of poor + lads. + </p> + <p> + I heard at a meeting of a rich Christian Church, held in a noble hall in + the heart of London's City, one gentleman declare that a smart ragamuffin + youth of his acquaintance possessed a penny with a "head" on each side for + the purpose of enabling him to cheat at this game. + </p> + <p> + He did not know what he was talking about, for such pennies would be as + useless for this game as the stones in the streets, for "heads and tails" + are the essence of the game. The boys of the underworld must play, and + ought to play; if those above them do not approve of their games, well, it + is "up to them," as the Americans have it, to find them better games than + pitch and toss, and better playing grounds than unclean streets. + </p> + <p> + Of public parks we have enough; they are very well for sedate and elderly + people. They are useful to foster-mothers, slave girls hugging babies + about, and a boon for nurses with perambulators. But what of Tom, Dick and + Harry, who have just commenced work; what of them? "Boy Scouting," even + with royal patronage, is not for them, for they have no money to buy + uniforms, nor time to scour Epping Forest and Hampstead Heath for a + non-existent enemy. + </p> + <p> + Church Lads' Brigade with bishops for patrons, did I hear some one say? + Well, blowing a bugle, no matter how discordantly, is certainly an + attraction for a boy; and wearing a military cap set jauntily on one side + of the head is attractive, too, while the dragging of a make-believe + cannon through the streets may perhaps please others. But Tom, Dick and + Harry from below care for none of these things, for they are + "make-believes," and Tom, Dick and Harry want something real, even if it + is vulgar, something with a strong competitive element in it, even if it + is a little bit rough or wicked. + </p> + <p> + Besides Tom, Dick and Harry are not over-clean in person, nor nice in + speech, so they are not wanted. Boy Scouts and Boys' Brigades are preached + at, but Tom, Dick and Harry do not want to be preached at by a parson, or + coddled by a curate. + </p> + <p> + They want something real, even though it be punching each other's head, + for that at any rate is real. Give us play, play, real play! is the cry + that is everlastingly rising from the underworld youth. But the overworld + gives them parks and gardens, which are closed at a respectable hour. But + the lads do not go to bed at respectable hours, for their mothers are + still at work and their fathers have not arrived home. So they play in the + streets; then we call them "hooligans," and of course they must be "put + down." + </p> + <p> + There is a good deal of "putting down" for the underworld, but it is all + of the wrong sort. For there is no putting down of public playgrounds for + lads of fifteen and upwards open in the evening, lighted by electricity, + and under proper control. Not one in the whole underworld. So they play in + the streets, or rather indulge in what is called "horse-play." + </p> + <p> + But there are youths' clubs! Yes, a few mostly in pokey places, yet they + are useful. But Tom, Dick and Harry want space, room and air, for they get + precious little of these valuable commodities at their work, and still + less in their homes. Watch them if you will, as I have watched them scores + of times in the streets, how foolish, yet how pitiable their conduct is; + you will see that they walk for about two hundred yards and then walk back + again, and then repeat the same walk, till the hours have passed; they + seem to be as circumscribed as caged animals. They walk within bounds up + and down the "monkey's parade." + </p> + <p> + How inane and silly their conversation is! Sometimes a whim comes upon + them, and one runs for a few yards; the whim takes possession of others, + and they do exactly the same. One seizes another round the body and + wrestles with him. Immediately the others begin to wrestle too; their + actions are stereotyped, silly and objectionable, even when they do not + quarrel. + </p> + <p> + They bump against the people, women included, especially young women. They + push respectable people into the gutters, and respectable people complain + to the police. An extra force is told off to keep order, and to put Tom, + Dick and Harry down. + </p> + <p> + Sunday night is the worst night of all! for now these youths are out in + their thousands; certain streets are given up to them, and become + impassable for others. Respectable folk are shocked, and church-going folk + are scandalised! Surely the streets are the property of respectable + people! and yet they cannot pass through them without annoyance. + </p> + <p> + At length the street is cleared and patrolled, for respectability must be + protected, not that there has been either violence or robbery. Oh dear, + no! There has only been foolish horse-play by the Toms, Dicks and Harrys + who, having nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do, having, moreover, + been joined by their female counterparts, have been enjoying themselves in + their own way, for they have been "at play." + </p> + <p> + It is astonishing how fond of water the unwashed children of the + underworld are! It has an attraction for them, often a fatal attraction, + even though it be thick with dirt and very malodorous. During the summer + time the boys' bathing lakes in Victoria Park are crowded and alive with + youngsters, who splash and flounder and choke, splutter and laugh in them. + They present a sight worth seeing, and teach a lesson worth remembering. + </p> + <p> + The canals of Hoxton, Haggerston and Islington, too, dirty and dangerous + as they are, prove seductive to the boys who live close to them. Now the + police have an anxious time. Again they must look after Tom, Dick and + Harry, for demure respectability must not be outraged by a sight of their + naked bodies. + </p> + <p> + So the police keep a sharp outlook for them. Some one kindly informs them + that a dozen boys are bathing in the canal near a certain bridge, and + quickly enough they find them in the very act. There the little savages + are! Some can swim, and some cannot; those that cannot are standing in the + slime near the side, stirring up its nastiness. They see the policeman + advancing, and those that can swim get ashore and run for their little + bits of clothing, tied up in a bundle ready for emergencies. Into the + water again they go for the other side! But, alas! another policeman is + waiting on the other side at the place where they expected to land, so + they must needs swim till another landing place offers security. But even + here they find that escape is hopeless, for yet another policeman awaits + them. + </p> + <p> + Those who cannot swim seize their bundles, and, without waiting to dress, + run naked and unashamed along the canal, side, to the merriment of the + bargees, and the joy of the women and girls who happen to have no son or + brother amongst them, for the underworld is not so easily shocked as the + law and its administrators imagine. + </p> + <p> + Ultimately they, too, find a policeman waiting for them, and a "good bag" + results. But the magistrate is very lenient; with a twinkle in his eye he + reproves them, and fines them one shilling each, which with great + difficulty their "muvvers" pay. + </p> + <p> + But it has been a good day for the police, for four of them have helped to + convey six shillings from the wretchedly poor to the coffers of the + police-court receiver. But when the school holidays come round, that is + the time for the dirty canal to tell its tale, and to give up its dead, + too! + </p> + <p> + Read this from the Daily Press, July 16th, 1911— + </p> + <p> + "A remarkable record in life-saving was disclosed at a Bethnal Green + inquest to-day on a child of six, named Browning, who was drowned in the + Regent's Canal on Bank Holiday. + </p> + <p> + "Henry H. Terry, an out-of-work carman, said he was called from his home + near by, and raced down to the canal. There was a youth on the bank + holding a stick over the water, apparently waiting for the child to come + up to the surface. + </p> + <p> + "The coroner: 'How old was the youth?' 'Well, he stood five feet six + inches, and might have gone in without getting out of his depth. I heard a + woman cry, "Why don't you go in!" I dived in five or six times, but did + not bring up the body.' The witness added that he and his brother had + saved many lives at this spot, the latter having effected as many as + twenty-five rescues in a year. Alfred Terry, a silk weaver, described the + point at which the child was drowned as a veritable death-trap, and + mentioned that he had been instrumental during the past twelve years in + saving considerably over one hundred lives at that spot. + </p> + <p> + "'One hot July afternoon in 1900,' he added,'my mother and I had five of + them in the kitchen at one time with a roaring fire to bring them round. + That was during the school holidays; they dropped in like flies.' + </p> + <p> + "Accidental death was the verdict." + </p> + <p> + But when the little ones play in the gutter, danger lurks very near, as + witness the extract of the same date— + </p> + <p> + "At an inquest at the Poplar coroner's court to-day, on a three-years'-old + girl named Bertiola, it was stated that while playing with other children + she was struck on the head with a tin engine. Three weeks later she was + playing with the same children, and one of them hit her on the head with + the wooden horse. + </p> + <p> + "The coroner: 'Two similar blows in a few days, that is very strange.' + </p> + <p> + "Dr. Packer said that death was due to cerebral meningitis, the result of + a blow on the head. + </p> + <p> + "The coroner: 'I suppose you can't tell which blow caused the trouble' + 'No, sir, I am afraid not.' + </p> + <p> + "The jury returned a verdict of accidental death." + </p> + <p> + But sometimes the boys and girls of the underworld collaborate in their + play, for just now (July) "Remember the grotto! please to remember the + grotto!" is a popular cry. Who has not seen the London grottos he who + knows them not, knows nothing of the London poor. + </p> + <p> + I was watching some girls play "hop-scotch" when a boy and girl with + oyster shells in their hands came up to me preferring the usual request, + "Please to remember the grotto!" Holding out their shells as they spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Where is your grotto?" I said. "There, sir, over there; come and see it." + Aye! there is was, sure enough, and a pretty little thing it was in its + way, built up to the wall in a quiet corner, glistening with its oyster + shells, its bits of coloured china and surmounted with a little flag. + </p> + <p> + "But where are the candles?" "Oh, sir, we haven't got any yet; we shall + get candles when we get some money, and light them to-night; we have only + just finished it." "Where did you get your shells?" "From the fish-shops." + "Where did you get the pretty bits of china from?" "We saved them from + last year." "Does grotto time come the same time every year, then" "Oh + yes, sir." "How is that?" "'Cos it's the time for it." "Why do you build + grottos" "To get money." "Yes, but why do people give you money; what do + grottos commemorate, don't you know?" "No, sir." + </p> + <p> + I looked at a poor half-paralysed boy with sharp face and said, "Well, my + boy, you ought to know; do you go to Sunday School?" "Yes, sir, both of + us; St. James the Less." "Well, I shall not tell you the whole story + to-day, but here is sixpence for you to buy candles with; and next Sunday + ask your teacher to tell you why boys and girls build grottos; I shall be + here this day week, and if you can tell me I will give you a shilling." + </p> + <p> + There were at least six grottos in that street when I got there on the + appointed day. A large crowd of children with oyster shells were waiting; + evidently the given sixpence and the promised shilling had created some + excitement in that corner of Bethnal Green. + </p> + <p> + They were soon all round me, and a general chorus arose with hands + outstretched, "Please to remember the grotto! please to remember the + grotto!" I called them to silence, and said, "Can any one tell me why you + build grottos?" There was a general chorus, "To get money, sir." That was + all they knew, and it seemed to them a sufficient reason. + </p> + <p> + Turning to the little cripple, I said, "Did you ask your teacher?" "Yes, + sir, but she said it was only children's play; but I bought some candles, + and they are lighted now." + </p> + <p> + I said, "Now, children, listen to me, for I am going to tell you about the + beginning of grottos. + </p> + <p> + "A good many hundred years ago, when Jesus was on earth, He had two + disciples named James; in after years one was called 'James the Greater' + and the other 'James the Less.' After the death of Jesus, James the + Greater was put to death, and the disciples were scattered, and wandered + into many far countries. James the Less wandered into Spain, telling the + people about Jesus. He lived a good and holy life, helping the poor and + the afflicted. + </p> + <p> + "When he died, the people who loved him and reverenced him made a great + funeral, and built him a costly tomb, but instead of putting up a monument + to him, they built a large and beautiful grotto over the place where his + body lay. They lined it with beautiful and costly shells and other rich + things, and lit it with many candles. + </p> + <p> + "Thousands of people came to see the grotto, and gave money to buy candles + that it might always be lighted. + </p> + <p> + "Every year, on the anniversary of St. James's death, the people came by + thousands to the grotto. One year it was said that a crippled man had been + made quite well while praying at the grotto. This event was told + everywhere, and from that day forth on St. James's Day people came from + many countries, many of them walking hundreds of miles to the grotto. + </p> + <p> + "Some of these people were ill and diseased, and others were sick and + blind, and some were cripples. + </p> + <p> + "It is said that a good many of them were cured of their afflictions. + </p> + <p> + "Now all these poor people that walked slowly and painfully to St. James's + tomb carried big oyster shells, in which they made holes for cords to pass + through, and they placed the cords round their necks. + </p> + <p> + "When they came near to people they would hold out their shells and say, + 'Please to remember the grotto!' And people gave them money to help them + on their way and to buy candles for the grotto, hoping that the poor + people would get there safely and come back cured. + </p> + <p> + "So it came to pass that whenever people saw a man with an oyster shell, + they knew he was going or returning from St. James's tomb in Spain, and + they helped him. The custom of building grottos on St. James's Day spread + to many countries besides Spain. In Russia they build very fine grottos. + At length the custom came to England, and you boys and girls do what other + boys and girls have done for many years in other countries, and in reality + you celebrate the death of a great and good man." + </p> + <p> + The children were very silent for a while; the cripple boy looked at me + with tears in his eyes, and I knew what his tears expressed. I gave him a + shilling, but he did not speak; to all the other children who had built + grottos I gave threepence each, and there was joy in that corner of + Bethnal Green. + </p> + <p> + There is always something pathetic about play in the underworld. We feel + that there is something wanting in it, perhaps that something would come + into it, if there were more opportunities of real and competitive play. + Keeping shops, or teaching schools may do for girls to play at, but a lad, + if he is any good, wants something more robust. + </p> + <p> + I often find cripple boys playing "tip-cat," another game upon which the + law has its eye, or hurrying along on crutches after something that serves + as a football, and getting there in time, too, for a puny kick. But that + kick, little as it is, thrills the poor chap, and he feels that he has + been playing. I am sure that football is going to play a great part in the + physical salvation of Tom, Dick and Harry, but they must have other places + than the streets in which to learn and practise the game. + </p> + <p> + We have heard a great deal about the playing-fields of public schools; we + are told that we owe our national safety to them; perhaps it is correct, + but I really do not know. But this I do know, that the non-provision of + playing-fields, or grounds for the male youthful poor, is a national + danger and a menace to activity, endurance, health and pluck. + </p> + <p> + Nothing saves them now but the freehold of the streets. Rob them of this + without giving them something better, and we shall speedily have a race of + flat-footed, flat-chested, round-shouldered poor, with no brains for + mental work, and no strength for physical work. A race exactly qualified + for the conditions to which we so freely submit it in prison. And above + those conditions that race will have no aspirations. So give them play, + glorious play, manly strife; let their hearts beat, and their chests + expand that they may breathe from their bottom lungs, that their limbs may + be supple and strong, for it will pay the nation to give Tom, Dick and + Harry healthy play. + </p> + <p> + And they long for it, do Tom, Dick and Harry! Did you ever see hundreds of + them on a Sunday morning coming up from their lairs in Hoxton, Shoreditch, + Spitalfields and Bethnal Green, to find a field or open space in the + suburbs where they might kick a football? I have seen it scores of times. + A miserable but hopeful sight it is; hopeful because it bears testimony to + the ingrained desire that English lads have for active healthy play. + Miserable because of their appearance, and because of the fact that no + matter what piece of open ground or fields they may select, they are + trespassers, and may be ejected, or remain on sufferance only. + </p> + <p> + Happy are they if they can find a piece of land marked for sale, where the + jerry-builder has not yet commenced a suburban slum. Like a swarm of + locusts they are down on it, and quickly every blade of grass disappears, + "kicked off" as if by magic. + </p> + <p> + Old walking-sticks, pieces of lath or old coats and waistcoats serve as + goal-posts. Touch-lines they have none, one playing-ground runs across the + other, and a dozen teams are soon hard at it. They have no caps to + distinguish them, no jerseys or knickers of bright hues. There are no + "flannelled fools" among them, but quickly there are plenty of "muddied + oafs." Trousers much too long are rolled up, coats and vests are dispensed + with, braces are loosed and serve as belts. There is running to and fro, + mud, and poor old footballs are kicked hither and thither. They knock, + kick and shoulder each other, their bare arms and faces are coated with + mud, they fall over the ball and over each other. If they cannot kick + their own ball, they kick one that belongs to another team. There is much + shouting, much laughter and some bad language! and so they go at it till + presently there is a great cheer, for Hoxton has got a second goal, and + Haggerston is defeated. And they keep at it for two long hours, if they + are not interfered with, then back to their lairs and food. + </p> + <p> + All this time good people have been in the churches close by, and the + shouting of the Hoxtonians has disturbed them, and the gentle whisper of + the Haggerstonians has annoyed them. Some of them are scandalised, and say + the police ought to stop such nuisances; perhaps they are right, for there + is much to be said against it. But there is something to be said on the + other side, too; for the natural instinct of English boys must have an + outlet or perish. If it perish they perish too, and then old England would + miss them. + </p> + <p> + So let them play, but give them playgrounds! For playgrounds will pay + better than nice, respectable parks. The outlay will be returned in due + time in a big interest promptly paid from the increased vitality, energy, + industry and honesty of our Toms, Dicks and Harrys. So let them play! + </p> + <p> + With much pleasure I quote from the Daily Press, November 24th, the + following— + </p> + <p> + "LEARNING TO PLAY "ORGANISED GAMES IN HYDE PARK IN SCHOOL HOURS + </p> + <p> + "It is good news that arrangements are being made by the Office of Works + for the use of a part of Hyde Park for organised games under the direction + of the London County Council. Hitherto the only royal parks in which space + has been allotted for this purpose are Regent's Park and Greenwich Park. + But the King, as is well known, takes a keen interest in all that concerns + the welfare of the children, and has gladly sanctioned the innovation. + </p> + <p> + "During the year an increasing number of the elementary schools in London + have taken advantage of the article in the code of regulations which + provides that, under certain conditions, organised games may, if conducted + under competent supervision and instruction, be played during school + hours. Up to the present the London County Council has authorised the + introduction of organised games by 580 departments, 295 boys', 225 girls', + and 60 mixed. + </p> + <p> + "The games chiefly played by boys are football, cricket and rounders, + according to the season. Girls enjoy a greater variety, and in addition to + cricket and rounders, are initiated into the mysteries of hockey, basket + ball, target ball, and other ball games. + </p> + <p> + "The advantages of the children being taught to get the best exercise out + of the games, and to become skilful in them, are obvious. + </p> + <p> + "Arrangements have been made with the various local athletic associations + and consultative committees whereby in each metropolitan borough there are + hon. district representatives (masters and mistresses) in connection with + organised games. Pitches are reserved in over thirty of the L.C.C. parks + and open spaces for the use of schools. The apparatus required is + generally stored at the playing-fields for the common use of all schools + attending, but small articles such as balls, bats, sticks are supplied to + each school. + </p> + <p> + "The Council has decided that, so far as practicable, the apparatus for + organised games shall be made at the Council's educational institutes, + and, as a result of this decision, much of it is fashioned at the + handicraft centres." + </p> + <p> + This is all for good. But I am concerned for adolescent youth that has + left school—the lads whose home conditions absolutely prevent the + evening hours being spent indoors. Is there to be no provision for them? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. ON THE VERGE OF THE UNDERWORLD + </h2> + <p> + Charles Dickens has somewhere said, "The ties that bind the rich to their + homes may be made on earth, but the ties that bind the poor to their homes + are made of truer metal and bear the stamp of Heaven." And he adds that + the wealthy may love their home because of the gold, silver and costly + things therein, or because of the family history. But that when the poor + love their homes, it is because their household gods are gods of flesh and + blood. Dickens's testimony is surely true, for struggle, cares, sufferings + and anxieties make their poor homes, even though they be consecrated with + pure affection, "serious and solemn places." + </p> + <p> + To me it has always been evident that the heaviest part of the burden + inseparable from a poor man's home falls upon the wife. + </p> + <p> + Blessed is that home where the wife is equal to her duties, and doubly + blessed is the home where the husband, being a true helpmate, is anxious + to carry as much of the burden as possible. For then the home, even though + it be small and its floors brick, becomes in all truth "a sweetly solemn + place." It becomes a good training ground for men and women that are to + be. But I am afraid the working men do not sufficiently realise what + heavy, onerous and persistent duties fall upon the wife. With nerves of + brass they do not appreciate the fact that wives may be, and are, very + differently constituted to themselves. Many wives are lonely; but the + husbands do not always understand the gloomy imaginations that pervade the + lonely hours. The physical laws that govern women's personal health make + periods of depression and excitement not only possible, but certain. + </p> + <p> + Let us consider for a moment the life of a poor man's wife in London, + where her difficulties are increased by high rent and a long absence of + the husband. She has the four everlasting walls to look at, eternal + anxieties as to the future, the repeated weekly difficulties of making + ends meet, and too often the same lack of consideration from the husband. + </p> + <p> + The week's washing for the family she must do, the mending and darning for + the household is her task, the children must be washed and clothed and + properly cared for by her. Of her many duties there is no end. + </p> + <p> + Sickness in the family converts her into a nurse. She herself must bear + the pangs and sufferings of motherhood, and for that time must make + preparation. For death in the family she must also provide, so the + eternities are her concern. Things present and things to come leave her + little time to contemplate the past. + </p> + <p> + Ask me the person of many duties, and I point to the wife of a poor man. + </p> + <p> + Thank God, the law of compensation rules the universe, and she is not + exempt from its ruling. She has her compensations doubtless, but I am + seriously afraid not to the extent to which she is entitled, though, + perhaps, they are greater than we imagine. + </p> + <p> + Her duties are not always pleasant, for when her husband falls out of work + the rent must be paid, or she must mollify a disappointed landlord. In + many of our London "model" dwellings, if she is likely to have a fourth + child, three being the limit, she must seek a new home. And it ought to be + known that on this account there is a great exodus every year from some of + our London "dwellings." + </p> + <p> + It seems scarcely credible, but it is nevertheless a fact, that in some + dwellings she may not keep a cat, a dog, or even a bird, neither may she + have flowers in pots on her window-sills. She is hedged round with + prohibitions, but she is expected to be superior and to abide in staid + respectability on an income of less than thirty shillings per week. And + she does it, though how she does it is a marvel. + </p> + <p> + Come with me to visit Mrs. Jones, who lives at 28, White Elephant + Buildings. Mr. Jones is a painter at work for eight months in the year, if + he has good luck, but out of work always at that time of the year when + housekeeping expenses are highest. For every working man's wife will tell + you that coal is always dearer at the time of the year when it is most + required. In White Elephant Buildings there is no prohibition as to the + number of children, or the Jones family would not be there, for they + number eight all told. It is dinner time, and the children are all in from + school, and, being winter time, Jones is at home too! He has been his + wearying round in search of work earlier in the day, and has just returned + to share the midday meal which the mother serves. In all conscience the + meal is limited enough, but we notice that Jones gets an undue proportion, + and we wonder whether the supply will go round. + </p> + <p> + We see that the children are next served in their order, the elder + obtaining just a little more food than the younger, and, last of all—Mrs. + Jones. + </p> + <p> + It is true that self-denial brings its own reward, for in her case there + is little to reward her in the shape of food. + </p> + <p> + To me it is still astonishing, although I have known it for years, that + thousands of poor men's wives go through years of hard work, and frequent + times of motherhood on an amount of food that must be altogether + inadequate. + </p> + <p> + Brave women! Aye, brave indeed! for they not only deny themselves food, + but clothing, and all those little personal adornments that are so dear to + the heart of women. There is no heroism to equal it. It only ends when the + children have all passed out of hand, and then it is too late, for in her + case appetite has not been developed with eating, so that when the day + comes that food is more plentiful, the desire for it is lacking. + </p> + <p> + It is small wonder, then, that Mrs. Jones has a careworn look, and does + not look robust. She has been married twelve years, so that every second + year she has borne a child. The dark rings beneath her eyes tell of + protracted hours of work, and the sewing-machine underneath the window + tells us that she supplements the earnings of her husband by making old + clothes into new, and selling them to her neighbours, either for their + children's wear or their own. This accounts for the fact that her own + children are so comfortably clothed. The dinner that we have seen + disappear cost ninepence, for late last evening, just before the cheap + butchers close by shut up for the night, Mrs. Jones bought one pound and a + half of pieces, and, with the aid of two onions and some potatoes, + converted them into a nourishing stew. + </p> + <p> + Many times near midnight I have stood outside the cheap butchers' and + watched careful women make their purchases. It is a pitiful sight, and + when one by one the women have made their bargains, we notice that the + shopboard is depleted of its heap of scrags and odds and ends. + </p> + <p> + So day by day Mrs. Jones feeds her family, limiting her expenditure to her + purse. And, truth to tell, Jones and the little Joneses look well on it. + But two things in addition to the rent test her managing powers. Boots for + the children! and coal for the winter! The latter difficulty she gets over + by paying one shilling per week into a coal club all the year through. + When Jones is in work she buys extra coal, but when the winter comes she + draws upon her reserves at the coal merchant's. + </p> + <p> + But the boots are more difficult. To his credit let it be said that Jones + mends the family's boots. That is, he can "sole and heel," though he + cannot put on a patch or mend the uppers. But with everlasting thought for + the future, Mrs. Jones makes certain of boots for the family. Again a + "club" is requisitioned, and by dint of rigid management two shillings + weekly pass into a shoemaker's hands, and in their turn the family gets + boots; the husband first, the children one by one, herself last—or + never! + </p> + <p> + Week by week she lives with no respite from anxiety, with no surcease from + toil. By and by the eldest boy is ready for work, and Mrs. Jones looks + forward to the few shillings he will bring home weekly, and builds great + things upon it. Alas! it is not all profit; the boy must have a new suit, + he requires more food, and he must have a little spending money, "like + other boys"; and though he is a good lad, she finds ultimately that there + is not much left of Tom's six shillings. + </p> + <p> + Never mind! on she goes, for will he not get a rise soon and again + expectation encourages her. + </p> + <p> + So the poor woman, hampered as she is with present cares, looks forward to + the time when life will be a bit easier, when the united earnings of the + children will make a substantial family income. Oh, brave woman! it is + well for her to live in hope, and every one who knows her hopes too that + disappointment will not await her, and that her many children will "turn + out well." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jones is typical of thousands of working men's wives, and such women + demand our admiration and respect. What matter though some of them are a + bit frowsy and not over-clean? they have precious little time to attend to + their personal adornment. I ask, who can fulfil all their duties and + remain "spick-and-span"? + </p> + <p> + "Nagging," did I hear some one say? My friend, put yourself in her place, + and imagine whether you would remain all sweetness and courtesy. Again I + say, that I cannot for the life of me understand how she can bear it all, + suffering as she does, and yet remain so patient and so hopeful. + </p> + <p> + Add to the duties I have enumerated the time when sickness and death enter + the home. Mrs. Grundy has declared that even poor people must put on + "mourning," and must bury their dead with excessive expenditure, and Mrs. + Grundy must be obeyed. + </p> + <p> + But what struggles poor wives make to do it! but a "nice" funeral is a + fascinating sight to the poor. So thousands of poor men's wives deny + themselves many comforts, and often necessaries, that they may for certain + have a few pounds, should any of their children die. Religiously they pay + a penny or twopence a week for each of their children to some industrial + insurance company for this purpose. + </p> + <p> + A few pounds all at once loom so large that they forget all the toil, + stress and self-denial they have undergone to keep those pence regularly + paid. Decent "mourning" and "nice funerals" are greatly admired, for if a + working man's wife accepts parish aid at such time, why then she has + fallen low indeed. + </p> + <p> + And for the time when a new life comes into light, the poor man's wife + must make provision. At this time anxiety is piled upon anxiety. There + must be no parish doctor, no parish nurse; out of her insufficient income + she makes weekly payments to a local dispensary that during sickness the + whole household may be kept free of doctor's bills. An increased payment + for herself secures her, when her time comes, from similar worry. But the + nurse must be paid, so during the time of her "trouble" the poor woman + screws, schemes and saves a little money; money that ought in all truth to + have been spent upon herself, that a weekly nurse may attend her. But + every child is dearer than the last, and the wonderful love she has for + every atom of humanity born to her repays all her sufferings and + self-denial. + </p> + <p> + So I ask for the poor man's wife not only admiration and consideration, + but, if you will, some degree of pity also. I would we could make her + burdens easier, her sorrows less, and her pleasures more numerous. Most + devoutly I hope that the time may soon arrive when "rent day" will be less + dreaded, and when the collector will be satisfied with a less proportion + of the family's earnings. For this is a great strain upon the poor man's + wife, a strain that is never absent! for through times of poverty and + sickness, child birth and child death, persistently and inexorably that + day comes round. Undergoing constant sufferings and ceaseless anxieties, + it stands to the poor man's wife's credit that their children fight our + battles, people our colonies, uphold the credit of our nation, and + perpetuate the greatness of the greatest empire the world has ever known. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Jones' eldest girl has a hard time too! for she acts as nurse and + foster-mother to the younger children. It was well for her that Tom was + born before her or she would have nursed him. Perhaps it was well for Tom + also that he got the most nourishment. As it is the girl has her hands + full, and her time is more than fully occupied. She goes to school + regularly both Sunday and week-day. She passes all her standards, although + she is not brilliant. She washes the younger children, she nurses the + inevitable baby, she clears the "dinner things" away at midday, and the + breakfast and tea-cups in their turn. She sits down to the machine + sometimes and sews the clothing her mother has cut out and "basted." She + is still a child, but a woman before her time, and Mrs. Jones and all the + young Joneses will miss her when she goes "out." + </p> + <p> + When that time comes, Mrs. Jones will not be so badly put to it as she was + when Tom went "out." For she has been paying regularly into a draper's + club, and with the proceeds a quantity of clothing material will be + bought. So Sally's clothing will be made at home, and Sally and her mother + will sit up late at night to make it. + </p> + <p> + It is astonishing how "clubs" of all descriptions enter into the lives of + the poor. There is, of course, the "goose club" for Christmas, for the + poor make sure of one good meal during the year. Some of them are + extravagant enough to join "holiday clubs," but this Mrs. Jones cannot + afford, so her clubs are limited to her family's necessities, excepting + the money club held at a neighbour's house into which she pays one + shilling weekly. This club consists of twenty members, who "draw" for + choice. Thus once in twenty weeks, sooner or later, Mrs. Jones is passing + rich, for she is in possession of twenty shillings all at once. + </p> + <p> + There is some discussion between Sally and her mother as to the spending + of it; Tom's first suit was bought by this means, and Jones himself is not + forgotten; but for Mrs. Jones no thought is given. + </p> + <p> + The planning, scheming and contrivance it takes to run a working man's + home, especially when the husband has irregular work, is almost past + conception, and the amount of self-denial is extraordinary. + </p> + <p> + But it is the wife who finds the brains and exercises the self-denial. Her + methods may be laughed at by wiser people, for there is some wastage. The + friendly club-keeper must have a profit, and the possession of wealth + represented by a whole sovereign costs something. But when Mrs. Jones gets + an early "draw," she exchanges her "draw" for a later one, and makes some + little profit. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the scheming and excitement of it all, for even Mrs. Jones cannot do + without her little "deal." But what will Sally settle down to? Now comes + the difficulty and deciding point in her life, and a critical time it is. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Jones has not attended a mother's meeting, she has been too busy; + church has not seen much of her except at the christenings; district + visitors and clergymen have not shown much interest in her; Jones himself + is almost indifferent, and quite complacent. + </p> + <p> + So Sally and her mother discuss the matter. The four shillings weekly to + be obtained in a neighbouring factory are tempting, but the girls are + noisy and rude; yet Sally will be at home in the evenings and have time to + help her mother, and that is tempting too! A neighbouring blouse-maker + takes girls to teach them the trade, and Sally can machine already, so she + will soon pick up the business; that looks nice too, but she would earn + nothing for the first three months, so that is ruled out. Domestic service + is thought of, but Sally is small for her age, and only fourteen; she does + not want to be a nurse girl; she has had enough nursing—she has been + a drudge long enough. + </p> + <p> + So to the factory she goes, though Mrs. Jones has her misgivings, and + gives her strong injunctions to come straight home, which of course Sally + readily promises, though whether that promise will be strictly kept is + uncertain. But her four shillings are useful in the family exchequer; they + are the deciding factor in Sally's life! + </p> + <p> + So on through all the succeeding years of the developing family life comes + the recurring anxiety of getting her children "out." These anxieties may + be considered very small, but they are as real, as important, and as grave + as the anxieties that well-to-do people experience in choosing callings or + professions for sons and daughters to whom they cannot leave a competency. + </p> + <p> + And all this time the family are near, so very near to the underworld. The + death of Jones, half-timer as he is, would plunge them into it; and the + breakdown or death of Mrs. Jones would plunge them deeper still. + </p> + <p> + What an exciting and anxious life it really is! Small wonder that many + descend to the underworld when accident overtakes them. But for character, + grit, patience and self-denial commend me to such women. All honour to + them! may their boys do well! may their girls in days to come have less + anxieties and duties than fall to the lot of working men's wives of + to-day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. IN PRISONS OFT + </h2> + <p> + If every chapter in this book is ignored, I hope that this one will be + read thoughtfully. For I want to show that a great national wrong, a + stupidly cruel wrong, exists. + </p> + <p> + Probably all injustice is stupid, but this wrong is so foolish, that any + man who thinks for one moment upon it will wonder how it came into + existence. + </p> + <p> + I have written and spoken about it so often that I am almost ashamed of + returning to the subject. Yet all our penal authorities, from the Home + Secretary downwards, know all there is to be known about it. + </p> + <p> + I am going, then, to reiterate a serious charge! It is this: no boy from + eight years of age up to sixteen, unless sound in mind and body, can find + entrance into any reformatory or industrial school! No matter how often he + falls into the hands of the police, or what charges may be brought against + him, not even if he is friendless and homeless. Again, no youthful + prisoner under twenty-one years of age, no matter how bad his record, is + allowed the benefit of Borstal training unless he, too, be sound in mind + and body. This is not only an enormity, but it is also a great absurdity; + for it ultimately fills our prisons with weaklings, and assures the nation + a continuous prison population. + </p> + <p> + It seems very extraordinary that prison and prison alone should be + considered the one and only place suitable for the afflicted children of + the poor when they break any law, but so it is. + </p> + <p> + The moral hump is tolerated, even patronised in reformative institutions, + but the physical hump, never! + </p> + <p> + Cunning, dishonesty and rascality generally may be tolerated, but + feebleness of mind or infirmity of body never! All through our penal + administration and prison discipline this principle prevails, and is + strictly acted upon. + </p> + <p> + Let me put it briefly; prison, and prison only, is the one and only place + for afflicted youth when it happens to break one or the other of our laws. + </p> + <p> + We have numerous institutions, half penal and half educative, that exist + absolutely for the purpose of receiving homeless, wayward or criminally + inclined youthful delinquents. + </p> + <p> + These institutions, I say, although kept going from public funds, refuse, + absolutely refuse, to give training to any youthful delinquent who suffers + from physical infirmity or mental weakness. + </p> + <p> + Think of it again! all youthful delinquents suffering from any infirmity + of body or mind, are refused reformative treatment or training in all + publicly supported institutions established for delinquent youth. + </p> + <p> + He may be a thief, but if he is a hunchback they will have none of him. He + may be a danger to other children, if he has fits he will not be received. + He may rob the tills of small shopkeepers, but if he is lame, half-blind, + has heart disease, or if his brain is not sound and his body strong, if he + has lost a hand, got a wooden leg, if he suffers from any disease or + deprivation, prison, and prison only, is the place for him. So to prison + the afflicted one goes if over fourteen; if under fourteen back to his + home, to graduate in due time for prison. + </p> + <p> + This is no exaggeration, it is a true picture, and this procedure has gone + on till our prisons have become filled with broken and hopeless humanity. + </p> + <p> + Could any one ever suggest a more disastrous course than this? Why, + decency, pity, or just a grain of common sense ought to teach us, and + would teach us if we thought for a moment, that it is not only wrong but + supremely foolish. + </p> + <p> + For there is a very close connection between neglected infirmity, mental + or physical, and crime, a connection that ought to be considered, and few + questions demand more instant attention. Yet no question is more + persistently avoided and shelved by responsible authorities, for no means + of dealing with the defective in mind or body when they commit offences + against the law, other than by short terms of useless imprisonment, have + at present been attempted or suggested. It seems strange that in + Christianised, scientised England such procedure should continue even for + a day, but continue it does, and to-day it seems as little likely to be + altered as it was twenty years ago. Let me then charge it upon our + authorities that they are responsible for perpetuating this great and + cruel wrong. They are not in ignorance, for the highest authorities know + perfectly well that every year many hundreds of helpless and hopeless + degenerates or defectives are committed to prison and tabulated as + habitual criminals. Our authorities even keep a list on which is placed + the names of these unfortunates who, after prolonged experience and + careful medical examinations, are found to be "unfit for prison + discipline." + </p> + <p> + This list is of portentous length, and to it four hundred more names are + added every year. This is of itself an acknowledgment by the State that + every year four hundred unfortunate human beings who cannot appreciate the + nature and quality of the acts they have committed, are treated, punished + and graded as criminals. Now the State knows perfectly well that these + unfortunates need pity, not punishment; the doctor, not the warder; and + some place where mild, sensible treatment and permanent restraint can take + the place of continual rounds of short imprisonment alternated with + equally senseless short spells of freedom. + </p> + <p> + No! not freedom, but a choice between starvation, prison or workhouse. Now + this list grows, and will continue to grow just so long as the present + disastrous methods are persisted in! + </p> + <p> + Why does this list grow? Because magistrates have no power to order the + detention of afflicted youthful offenders in any place other than prison; + they cannot commit to reformatory schools only on sufferance and with the + approval of the school managers, who demand healthy boys. + </p> + <p> + So ultimately to prison the weaklings go, and an interminable round of + small sentences begins. But even in prison they are again punished because + of their afflictions, for only the sound in mind and body are given the + benefit of healthy life and sensible training. + </p> + <p> + Consequently in prison they learn little that can be of service to them; + they only graduate in idleness, and prison having comforts but no terrors, + they quickly join the ranks of the habitues. When it is too late they are + "listed" as not suitable for prison treatment. Year by year in a country + of presumably sane people this deplorable condition of things continues, + and I am bold enough to say that there will be no reduction in the number + of our prison population till proper treatment, training, and, if need be, + detention, is provided in places other than prison for our afflicted + youthful population when they become offenders against the law. + </p> + <p> + But reformatory and industrial schools have not only power to refuse + youthful delinquents who are unsound in mind or body; they have also the + power to discharge as "unfit for training" any who have managed to pass + the doctor's examination, whose defects become apparent when under + detention. + </p> + <p> + From the last Official Report of Reformatory Schools in England and Wales + I take the following figures— + </p> + <p> + During the years 1906-7-8 14 imbeciles (males) were discharged on licence + from reformatory schools; and during the same three years no less than 93 + (males) were discharged by the Home Secretary's permission as "unfit for + physical training." The 14 imbeciles in the Official Report are classified + as dead, and the 93 physically unfit are included among them "not in + regular employment." + </p> + <p> + For the same period of years I find that 28 (girls) were discharged from + English reformatory schools as being physically unfit. + </p> + <p> + The Official Report of Industrial Schools includes England, Wales and + Scotland, and for the same three years I find that 13 (males) were + discharged from industrial schools as being imbeciles, and 116 (males) as + being "unfit for physical training." + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, in the Annual Report the physically unfit are included + among those "in casual employment," and the imbeciles are included among + the "dead." + </p> + <p> + From the same Official Report we have the statement that in one year, + 1909, in England and Scotland 991 (males) and 20 (females) who had been + discharged from reformatory schools were re-convicted and committed to + prison. + </p> + <p> + How many of them were mentally or physically defective we have no means of + knowing, for no information is given upon this point; but there is not the + slightest doubt that a large number of them were weak-minded, though not + sufficiently so to allow them being classified as imbeciles. + </p> + <p> + The terrible consequence of this procedure may also be gathered from the + Report of the Prison Commissioners for England and Wales 1910, from which + it appears that during the year 157 persons were certified insane among + the prisoners in the local and convict prisons, Borstal institutions and + of State reformatories, during the year ending March 31, 1910. + </p> + <p> + In addition to the above there were 290 (213 males and 77 females) cases + of insanity in remanded and other unconvicted prisoners dealt with during + the year, including 14 males and 2 females found "insane on arraignment," + and 173 males and 65 females found insane on remand from police or petty + sessional courts. There were 30 (20 males and 10 females) prisoners found + "guilty" but "insane" at their trial. + </p> + <p> + But the most illuminating report comes from the medical officer at + Parkhurst Convict Prison; these are his words— + </p> + <p> + Weak-minded convicts and others whose mental state is doubtful continue to + be collected here. The special rules for their management are adhered to. + The number classified as weak-minded at the end of the year was 117, but + in addition there were 34 convicts attached to the parties of weak-minded + for further mental observation. + </p> + <p> + "The conduct and tractability of these prisoners naturally vary with the + individual; a careful consideration of the history of each of the 117 + classified weak-minded convicts indicates that about 64 are fairly easily + managed, the remainder difficult to deal with, and a few are dangerous + characters. + </p> + <p> + CLASSIFICATION OF WEAK-MINDED CONVICTS:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + (a) Congenital deficiency:- + 1. With epilepsy . . . . . . 9 + 2. Without epilepsy. . . . . . 46 + (b) Imperfectly developed stage of insanity 18 + (c) Mental debility after attack of insanity 8 + (d) Senility . . . . . . 2 + (e) Alcohol . . . . . . 6 + (f) Undefined . . . . . . 28 + ——- + 117 + ===== +</pre> + <p> + "The following is a list of the crimes of the classified weak-minded for + which they are undergoing their present sentences of penal servitude, and + the number convicted for each type of crime— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + False pretences . . . . . . . 3 + Receiving stolen property . . . . . 3 + Larceny . . . . . . . 18 + Burglary . . . . . . . 7 + Shop-breaking, house-breaking, etc. . . . 19 + Uttering counterfeit coins . . . . . 1 + Threatening letters . . . . . . 4 + Threatening violence to superior officer. . 1 + Robbery with violence . . . . . . 3 + Manslaughter . . . . . . . 6 + Wounding with intent. . . . . . . 8 + Grievous bodily harm. . . . . . . 2 + Attempted murder . . . . . . . 1 + Wilful murder . . . . . . . . 7 + Rape . . . . . . . . . 5 + Carnal knowledge of little girls. . . . 8 + Arson . . . . . . . . . 15 + Cattle maiming . . . . . . . . 1 + Placing obstruction on railway . . . . 2 + Unnatural offences . . . . . . . 3 +</pre> + <p> + "During the year 35 convicts were certified insane; of these 27 were + removed to the criminal asylum at Parkhurst, 2 to Broadmoor asylum, 3 to + county or borough asylums, and 3 remained in the prison infirmary at the + end of the year. + </p> + <p> + "The average length of the last sentences for which these unfortunates + were committed was seven years' penal servitude each. That their mental + condition was not temporary but permanent may be gathered from their + educational attainments, for 12 had no education at all, 18 were only in + Standard I, 29 in Standard II, 15 in Standard III, and 12 others were of + poor education." + </p> + <p> + The statement that the average length of the last sentences of these + unfortunates was seven years' penal servitude is appalling. It ought to + astound us! But no one seems to care. Penal servitude is good enough for + them. Perhaps it is! But it ought to be called by another name, and + legally signify the inmates to be "patients," not criminals. Let us visit + a prison where we shall find a sufficient number of prisoners to enable us + to form an idea as to their physical and mental condition. + </p> + <p> + Come, then, on Sunday morning into a famous prison that long stood as a + model to the world. We are going to morning service, when we shall have an + opportunity of seeing face to face eight hundred male prisoners. But + before we enter the chapel, let us walk round the hospital and see those + who are on the sick list. + </p> + <p> + One look as we enter the ward convinced us that some are lying there whose + only chance of freedom is through the gates of death. + </p> + <p> + In yonder corner lies a young man of twenty-one years; the governor tells + us that he is friendless, homeless, and a hopeless consumptive. He says, + "We would have sent him out, but he has nowhere to go, for he does not + know his parish, so he must lie here till he dies, unless his sentence + expires first." + </p> + <p> + We speak to the young man a few kindly words, but he turns his face from + us, and of his history we learn nothing. + </p> + <p> + On another bed we find an old man whose days also will be short; of his + history we learn much, for he has spent a great deal of his life in + prison, and now, aged, feeble and broken, there is nothing before him but + death or continued imprisonment. We pass by other beds on which prisoners + not so hopeless in health are lying. We see what is the matter with most + of them: they are not strong enough for ordinary prison work, or indeed + for any kind of vigorous labour. So they remain in prison well tended in + the hospital. But some of them pass into freedom without the slightest + ability or chance of getting a living otherwise than by begging or + stealing. + </p> + <p> + What strikes us most about the inmates of the prison hospital is the + certainty that many of the prisoners have not sufficient health and + strength to enable them to be useful citizens. + </p> + <p> + So we pass through the hospital into the chapel, and find eight hundred + prisoners before us. The organ plays, the morning service is read by the + chaplain; the prisoners sing, and as they sing there is such a volume of + sound that we cannot fail to be touched with it. + </p> + <p> + We enter the pulpit, and as we stand and look down upon that sea of + upturned faces, we see a sight that is not likely to be forgotten. There, + in front of us, right underneath the pulpit, are rows of young men under + twenty-two years of age; we look at them; they are all clad in khaki, and + we take a mental sketch of them. + </p> + <p> + One or two among them are finely developed young men, but the great bulk + we see are small in stature and weak in body. Some of them have a hopeless + expression of countenance that tells us of moral and mental weakness. + </p> + <p> + We note that most of them can have had but little chance in life, and that + their physical or mental infirmities come from no fault of their own. They + have all been to school; they have started in life, if it can be called + starting, as errand boys, paper sellers in the streets, or as street + merchants of some description. They have grown into early manhood, but + they have not increased in wisdom or stature. They have learned no + occupation, trade or handicraft; they have passed from school age to early + manhood without discipline, decent homes or technical training. + </p> + <p> + When at liberty their homes are lodging-houses or even less desirable + places. So they pass from the streets to the police, from police-courts to + prison, with positive regularity. + </p> + <p> + They behave themselves in prison, they obey orders, they do the bit of + work that is required of them, they eat the food, and they sleep + interminable hours away. + </p> + <p> + At the back of the young men we see row after row of older men, and their + khaki clothing and broad arrows produce a strange impression upon us; but + what impresses us most is the facial and physical appearance of the + prisoners. + </p> + <p> + Cripples are there, twisted bodies are there, one-armed men are there, and + blind men are there. Here and there we see a healthy man, with vigour and + strength written on his face; but the great mass of faces strikes us with + dismay, and we feel at once that most of them are handicapped In life, and + demand pity rather than vengeance. + </p> + <p> + We know that they are not as other men, and we realise that their + afflictions more than their sins are responsible for their presence in + that doleful assembly. + </p> + <p> + Yet some of them are clever in crime, and many of them persistent in + wrong-doing, but their afflictions were neglected in days when those + afflictions should have been a passport to the pity and care of the + community. + </p> + <p> + We see men who have grown old in different prisons, and we know that + position in social and industrial life is impossible for them. + </p> + <p> + We see a number whom it is evident are not mentally responsible, for whom + there is no place but the workhouse or prison; yet we realise that, old as + they are, the day of liberty must come once more, and they will be free to + starve or steal! + </p> + <p> + We know that there are some epileptics among them, and that their dread + complaint has caused them to commit acts of violence. + </p> + <p> + We see among them men of education that have made war upon society. + Drunkards, too, are there, and we know that their overmastering passion + will demand gratification when once again the opportunity of indulging in + its presented to them. So we look at this strange mass of humanity, and as + we look a mist comes over our eyes, and we feel a choking sensation in our + throats. + </p> + <p> + But we look again, and see that few throughout this great assembly show + any sense of sorrow or shame. As we speak to them of hope, gladness, of + manliness, and of the dignity of life, we feel that we are preaching to an + east wind. Come round the same prison with me on a week-day; in one part + we find a number of men seated about six feet from each other making + baskets; warders are placed on pedestals here and there to keep oversight. + </p> + <p> + We walk past them, and notice their slow movements and see hopelessness + written all over them. They are working "in association," they are under + "observation," which, the governor tells us, means that they are suspected + of either madness or mental deficiency. + </p> + <p> + As we look at them we are quite satisfied that this suspicion is true, and + that, if not absolutely mad, they are mentally deficient. + </p> + <p> + If absolute madness be detected, they will be sent to asylums. If + feeble-mindedness be proved, they will again be set at liberty. Their + names will be placed on a list, and they will be declared "unfit for + prison discipline," but nothing more will be done. They will be discharged + to prowl about in the underworld, to commit other criminal acts and to be + returned again and again to prison, to live out hopeless lives. + </p> + <p> + And there is another cause, almost as prolific in producing a prison + population. For while the State has been, and still is, ready to thrust + afflicted youth into prison, it has been, and still is, equally ready to + thrust into prison the half-educated, half-fed, and half-employed young + people who break its laws or by-laws. It is true that the State in its + irony allows them the option of a fine; but the law might as well ask the + youths of the underworld to pay ten pounds as ask them to pay ten + shillings; nor can they procure all at once the smaller sum, so to prison + hundreds of lads are sent. + </p> + <p> + Does it ever occur to our esteemed authorities that this is a most + dangerous procedure! What good can possibly come either to the State or to + the youthful offender? + </p> + <p> + What are the offences of these boys? Disorder in the streets, loitering at + railway stations, playing a game of chance called "pitch and toss," of + which I have something to say in another chapter, gambling with a penny + pack of cards, playing tip-cat, kicking a football, made of old newspapers + maybe, playing cricket, throwing stones, using a catapult, bathing in a + canal, and a hundred similar things are all deemed worthy of imprisonment, + if committed by the youngsters of the world below the line. + </p> + <p> + Thousands of lads have had their first experience of prison for trumpery + offences that are natural to the boys of the poor. But a first experience + of prison is to them a pleasant surprise. They are astonished to find that + prison is not "half a bad place." They do not object to going there again, + not they! Why? Because the conditions of prison life are better, as they + need to be, than the conditions of their own homes. The food is better, + the lodging is better, the bed is decidedly better, and as to the work, + why, they have none worthy of the name to do. They lose nothing but their + liberty, and they can stand that for a week or two, what matters! + </p> + <p> + Well, something does matter, for they lose three other things of great + moment to them if they only knew; but they don't know, and our authorities + evidently consider these three things of no moment. What do they lose? + First, their fear of prison; secondly, their little bit of character; + thirdly, their work, if they have any. What eventuates? Idleness, + hooliganism and repeated imprisonments for petty crime, until something + more serious happens, and then longer sentences. Such is the progress of + hundreds whom statisticians love to call "recidivists." + </p> + <p> + Am I wrong when I say that the State has been too ready, too prompt in + sending the youths of the ignorant poor to prison? Am I wrong in saying + that the State has been playing its "trump ace" too soon, and that it + ought to have kept imprisonment up its sleeve a little longer? These lads, + having been in prison, know, and their companions know, too, the worst + that can happen to them when they commit real crime. Prison has done its + worst, and it cannot hurt them. + </p> + <p> + If prisons there must be, am I wrong in contending that they should be + reserved for the perpetrators of real and serious crime; and that the + punishment, if there is to be punishment, should be certain, dignified and + severe, educational and reformative? At present it includes none of these + qualities. + </p> + <p> + To such a length has the imprisonment of youths for trumpery offences + gone, not only in London, but throughout the country, that visiting + justices of my acquaintance have spent a great deal of money in part + paying the fines of youths imprisoned under such conditions, that they + might be released at once. Here we have a curious state of affairs, + magistrates generally committing youths to prison in default for trumpery + offences, and other magistrates searching prisons for imprisoned youths, + paying their fines, setting them free, and sending on full details to the + Home Secretary. + </p> + <p> + It would be interesting to know how many "cases" of this kind have been + reported to the Home Secretary during the last few years. Time after time + the governors of our prisons have called attention to this evil in their + annual reports. They know perfectly well the disaster that attends the + needless imprisonment of boys, and it worries them. They treat the boys + very kindly, all honour to them! But even kindness to young prisoners has + its dangers, and every governor is able to tell of the constant return of + youthful prisoners. + </p> + <p> + I do not like the "birch" or corporal punishment at all. I do not advocate + it, but I am certain that the demoralising effect of a few' days' + imprisonment is far in excess of the demoralisation that follows a + reasonable application of the birch. + </p> + <p> + But the birch cannot be applied to lads over fourteen years of age, so it + would be well to abolish it altogether, except in special cases, and for + these the age might with advantage be extended. And, after all, + imprisonment itself is physical punishment and a continued assault upon + the body. But why imprison at all for such cases? We talk about + imprisonment for debt; this is imprisonment for debt with a vengeance. + Look! two lads are charged with one offence or two similar offences; one + boy is from the upperworld, the other from below the line. The same + magistrate fines the two boys an equal amount; the one boy pays, or his + friends pay; but the other goes of a certainty to prison. Is it not + absurd! rather, is it not unjust? + </p> + <p> + But whether it is absurd or unjust the result is certain—mathematically + certain—in the development of a prison population. + </p> + <p> + During my police-court days I have seen hundreds of youths sitting crying + in their cells consumed with fear, waiting their first experience of + prison; I have seen their terror when first entering the prison van, and I + know that when entering the prison portals their terror increased. But it + soon vanished, for I have never seen boys cry, or show any signs of fear + when going to prison for the second time. The reason for this I have + already given: "fear of the unknown" has been removed. This fear may not + be a very noble characteristic, but it is part of us, and it has a useful + place, especially where penalties are likely to be incurred. + </p> + <p> + For many years I have been protesting against this needless imprisonment + of youths, and now it has become part of my duty to visit prisons and to + talk to youthful prisoners, I see the wholesale evil that attends this + method of dealing with youthful offenders. And the same evils attend, + though to perhaps a less degree, the prompt imprisonment of adults, who + are unable to pay forthwith fines that have been imposed upon them. + </p> + <p> + It is always the poor, the very poor, the people below the line that + suffer in this direction. Doubtless they merit some correction, and the + magistrates consider that fines of ten shillings are appropriate, but then + they thoughtlessly add "or seven days." + </p> + <p> + Think of the folly of it! because a man cannot pay a few shillings down, + the State conveys him to prison and puts the community to the very + considerable expense of keeping him. The law has fined him, but he cannot + pay then, so the law turns round and fines the community. + </p> + <p> + What sense, decency, or profit can there possibly be in committing women + to prison, even for drunkenness, for three, five or seven days? How can it + profit either the State or the woman? It only serves to familiarise her + with prison. + </p> + <p> + I could laugh at it, were it not so serious. Just look at this absurdity! + A woman gets drunk on Thursday, she is charged on Friday. "Five shillings, + or three days!" On Friday afternoon she enters prison, for the clerk has + made out a "commitment," and the gaoler has handed her into the prison + van. Her "commitment" is handed to the prison authorities; it is + tabulated, so is she; but at nine o'clock next morning she is discharged + from prison, for the law reckons every part of a day to be a complete day; + and the law also says that there must be no discharge from prison on a + Sunday, and to keep her till Monday would be illegal, for it would be + "four days." How small, how disastrous, and how expensive it is! + </p> + <p> + If offenders, young or old, must be punished, let them be punished + decently. If they ought to be sent to prison, to prison send them. But if + their petty offences can be expunged by the payment of a few shillings, + why not give them a little time to pay those fines? Such a course would + stop for ever the miserable, deadly round of short expensive + imprisonments. I have approached succeeding Home Secretaries upon this + matter till I am tired; succeeding Home Secretaries have sent memorandums + and recommendations to courts of summary jurisdiction till, I expect, they + are tired, for generally they have had no effect in mitigating the evil. + </p> + <p> + Magistrates have the power to grant time for the payment of fines, but it + is optional, not imperative. It is high time for a change, and surely it + will come, for the absurdity cannot continue. + </p> + <p> + Surely every English man and woman who possesses a settled home ought to + have, and must have, the legal right of a few days' grace in which to pay + his or her fine. And every youthful offender ought to have the same right, + also, even if he paid by instalments. + </p> + <p> + But at present it is so much easier, and therefore so much better, to + thrust the underworld, youthful and adult, into prison and have done with + them, than it is to pursue a sane but a little bit troublesome method that + would keep thousands of the poor from ever entering prison. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. UNEMPLOYED AND UNEMPLOYABLE + </h2> + <p> + My life has been one of activity; from an early age I have known what it + was to be constantly at work. To have the certainty of regular work, and + to have the discipline of constant duty, seem to me an ideal state for + mind and body. Labour, we are sometimes told, is one of God's + chastisements upon a fallen race; I believe it to be one of our choicest + blessings. I can conceive only one greater tragedy than the man who has + nothing to do, and that is the man who, earnestly longing for work, seeks + it day by day, and fails to find it. + </p> + <p> + Imagine his position, and imagine also, if you possibly can, the great + qualities that are demanded if such a man is to go through a lengthened + period of unemployment without losing his dignity, his manhood and his + desire for work. + </p> + <p> + I can tell at a glance the man who has had this experience. There is + something about his face that proclaims his hopelessness, the very poise + of his body and his peculiar measured step tell that his heart is utterly + unexpectant. To-morrow morning, and every morning, thousands of men will + rise early, even before the sun, and set out on their weary tramp and + hopeless search for work. To-morrow morning, and every morning, thousands + of men will be waiting at various dock-gates for a chance of obtaining a + few hours' hard work. And while these wait, others tramp, seeking and + asking for work. + </p> + <p> + Wives may be ill at home, children may be wanting food and clothing, but + every day thousands of husbands set out on the interminable search for + work, and every day return disappointed. Small wonder that some of them + descend to a lower grade and in addition to being unemployed, become + unemployable. + </p> + <p> + Look at those thousands of men clamouring daily at our dock-gates; about + one-half of them will obtain a few hours' hard work, but the other half + will go hopeless away. They will gather some courage during the night, for + the next morning they will find their way to, and be knocking once more + at, the same dock-gates. It takes sterling qualities to endure this life, + and there can be no greater hero than the man who goes through it and + still retains manhood. + </p> + <p> + But it would be more than a miracle if tens of thousands of men could live + this life without many of them becoming wastrels, for it is certain that a + life of unemployment is dangerous to manhood, to character and health. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact the ranks of the utterly submerged are being + constantly recruited from the ranks of those who have but casual work. + During winter the existence of the unemployed is more amply demonstrated, + for then we are called upon to witness the most depressing of all London's + sights, a parade of the unemployed. I never see one without experiencing + strange and mixed emotions. Let me picture a parade, for where I live they + are numerous, and at least once a week one will pass my window. + </p> + <p> + I hear the doleful strains of a tin whistle accompanied with a + rub-a-dub-dub of a kettledrum that has known its best days, and whose + sound is as doleful as that of the whistle. I know what is coming, and, + though I have seen it many times, it has still a fascination for me, so I + stand at my window and watch. I see two men carrying a dilapidated banner, + on which is inscribed two words, "The Unemployed." The man with the tin + whistle and the man with the drum follow the banner, and behind them is a + company of men marching four abreast. Two policemen on the pavement keep + pace with the head of the procession, and two others perform a similar + duty at the end of it. + </p> + <p> + On the pavement are a number of men with collecting boxes, ready to + receive any contribution that charitably inclined people may bestow. They + do not knock at any door, but they stand for a moment and rattle their + boxes in front of every window. + </p> + <p> + The sound of the whistle and the drum, and the rattle of boxes is, in all + conscience, depressing enough, but one glimpse at the men is infinitely + more so. + </p> + <p> + Most of them are below the average height and bulk. Their hands are in + their trousers pockets, their shoulders are up, but their heads are bent + downwards as if they were half ashamed of their job. A peculiar slouching + gait is characteristic of the whole company, and I look in vain for a firm + step, an upright carriage, and for some signs of alert manhood. As they + pass slowly by I see that some are old, but I also see that the majority + of them are comparatively young, and that many of them cannot be more than + thirty years of age. But whether young or old, I am conscious of the fact + that few of them are possessed of strength, ability and grit. There are no + artisans or craftsmen among them, and stalwart labourers are not in + evidence. + </p> + <p> + Pitiful as the procession is, I know that it does not represent the + genuine and struggling unemployed. They pass slowly by and go from street + to street. So they will parade throughout the livelong day. The police + will accompany them, and will see them disbanded when the evening closes + in. The boxes will be emptied, the contents tabulated, and a pro rata + division will be made, after which the processionists will go home and + remain unemployed till the next weekly parade comes round. + </p> + <p> + Unemployable! yes, but so much the greater pity; and so much more + difficult the problem, for they represent a very large class, and it is to + be feared a growing class of the manhood of London's underworld. + </p> + <p> + We cannot blame them for their physical inferiority, nor for their lack of + ability and grit. To expect them to exhibit great qualities would be + absurd. They are what they are, and a wise country would ponder the causes + that lead to such decadent manhood. During my prison lectures I have been + frequently struck with the mean size and appearance of the prisoners under + twenty-two years of age, who are so numerous in our London prisons. From + many conversations with them I have learned that lack of physical strength + means also lack of mental and moral strength, and lack of honest + aspiration, too! I am confirmed in this judgment by a statement that + appeared in the annual report of the Prison Commissioners, who state that + some years ago they adapted the plan in Pentonville prison of weighing and + measuring all the prisoners under the age of twenty-two. + </p> + <p> + The result I will tell in their own words: "As a class they are + two-and-a-half inches below the average height of the general youthful + population of the same age, and weigh approximately fourteen pounds less." + </p> + <p> + Here, then, we have an official proof of physical decadence, and of its + connection with prison life. For these young men, so continuously in + prison, grow into what should be manhood without any desire or + qualification for robust industrial life. + </p> + <p> + I never speak to them without feeling a deep pity. But as it is my + business to interest them, I try to learn something from them in return, + as the following illustration will show. + </p> + <p> + I had been giving a course of lectures on industrial life to the young + prisoners in Wormwood Scrubbs, who numbered over three hundred. On my last + visit I interrogated them as follows— + </p> + <p> + "Stand up those of you that have had regular or continuous work." None of + them stood up! "Stand up those of you who have been apprentices." None of + them stood up! "Stand up those of you who sold papers in the street before + you left school." Twenty-five responded! "How many sold other things in + the streets before leaving school?" Thirty! Seventeen others sold papers + after leaving school, and thirty-eight sold various articles. Altogether I + found that nearly two hundred had been in street occupations. + </p> + <p> + To my final question: "How many of you have met me in other prisons?" + Thirty-five stood up! I give these particulars because I think my readers + will realise the bearing they have on unemployment. + </p> + <p> + Surely it is obvious that if we continue to have a growing number of + physically inferior young men, who acquire no technical skill and have not + the slightest industrial training, that we shall continue to have an + increasing number of unemployed unemployables. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. SUGGESTIONS + </h2> + <p> + I propose in this last chapter to make some suggestions, which, I venture + to hope, will be found worthy of consideration and adoption. + </p> + <p> + The causes of so much misery, suffering and poverty in a rich and + self-governing country are numerous; and every cause needs a separate + consideration and remedy. + </p> + <p> + There is no royal road by which the underworld people can ascend to the + upperworld; there can be no specific for healing all the sores from which + humanity suffers. + </p> + <p> + Our complex civilisation, our industrial methods, our strange social + system, combined with the varied characteristics mental and physical of + individuals, make social salvation for the mass difficult and quite + impossible for many. + </p> + <p> + I shall have written with very little effect if I have not shown what some + of these individual characteristics are. They are strange, powerful and + extraordinary. So very mixed, even in one individual, that while sometimes + they inspire hope, at others they provoke despair. + </p> + <p> + If we couple the difficulties of individual character with the social, + industrial and economic difficulties, we see at once how great the problem + is. + </p> + <p> + We must admit, and we ought frankly to admit the truth, and to face it, + that there exists a very large army of people that cannot be socially + saved. What is more important, they do not want to be saved, and will not + be saved if they can avoid it. Their great desire is to be left alone, to + be allowed to live where and how they like. + </p> + <p> + For these people there must be, there will be, and at no far distant date, + detention, segregation and classification. We must let them quietly die + out, for it is not only folly, but suicidal folly to allow them to + continue and to perpetuate. + </p> + <p> + But we are often told that "Heaven helps those who help themselves"; in + fact, we have been told it so often that we have come to believe it, and, + what is worse, we religiously or irreligiously act upon it when dealing + with those below the line. + </p> + <p> + If any serious attempt is ever made to lessen the number of the homeless + and destitute, if that attempt is to have any chance of success, it will, + I am sure, be necessary to make an alteration in the adage and a reversal + of our present methods. + </p> + <p> + If the adage ran, "Heaven helps those who cannot help themselves," and if + we all placed ourselves on the side of Heaven, the present abominable and + distressing state of affairs would not endure for a month. + </p> + <p> + Now I charge it upon the State and local authorities that they avoid their + responsibilities to those who most sorely need their help, and who, too, + have the greatest claim upon their pity and protecting care. Sometimes + those claims are dimly recognised, and half-hearted efforts are made to + care for the unfortunate for a short space of time, and to protect them + for a limited period. + </p> + <p> + But these attempts only serve to show the futility of the efforts, for the + unfortunates are released from protective care at the very time when care + and protection should become more effectual and permanent. + </p> + <p> + It is comforting to know that we have in London special schools for + afflicted or defective children. Day by day hundreds of children are taken + to these schools, where genuine efforts are made to instruct them and to + develop their limited powers. But eight hundred children leave these + schools every year; in five years four thousand afflicted children leave + these schools. Leave the schools to live in the underworld of London, and + leave, too, just at the age when protection is urgently needed. For + adolescence brings new passions that need either control or prohibition. + </p> + <p> + I want my reader's imagination to dwell for a moment on these four + thousand defectives that leave our special schools every five years; I + want them to ask themselves what becomes of these children, and to + remember that what holds good with London's special schools, holds good + with regard to all other special schools our country over. + </p> + <p> + These young people grow into manhood and womanhood without the possibility + of growing in wisdom or skill. Few, very few of them, have the slightest + chance of becoming self-reliant or self-supporting; ultimately they form a + not inconsiderable proportion of the hopeless. + </p> + <p> + Philanthropic societies receive some of them, workhouses receive others, + but these institutions have not, nor do they wish to have, any power of + permanent detention, the cost would be too great. Sooner or later the + greater part of them become a costly burden upon the community, and an + eyesore to humanity. Many of them live nomadic lives, and make occasional + use of workhouses and similar institutions when the weather is bad, after + which they return to their uncontrolled existence. Feeble-minded and + defective women return again and again to the maternity wards to deposit + other burdens upon the ratepayers and to add to the number of their kind. + </p> + <p> + But the nation has begun to realise this costly absurdity of leaving this + army of irresponsibles in possession of uncontrolled liberty. The Royal + Commission on the Care and Control of the Feeble-minded, after sitting for + four years, has made its report. This report is a terrible document and an + awful indictment of our neglect. + </p> + <p> + The commissioners tell us that on January 1st, 1906, there were in England + and Wales 149,628 idiots, imbeciles, and feeble-minded; in addition there + were on the same date 121,079 persons suffering from some kind of insanity + or dementia. So that the total number of those who came within the scope + of the inquiry was no less than 271,607, or 1 in every 120 of the whole + population. + </p> + <p> + Of the persons suffering from mental defect, i.e. feeble-minded, + imbeciles, etc., one-third were supported entirely at the public cost in + workhouses, asylums, prisons, etc. + </p> + <p> + The report does not tell us much about the remaining two-thirds; but those + of us who have experience know only too well what becomes of them, and are + painfully acquainted with the hopelessness of their lives. + </p> + <p> + Here, then, is my first suggestion—a national plan for the permanent + detention, segregation and control of all persons who are indisputably + feeble-minded. Surely this must be the duty of the State, for it is + impossible that philanthropic societies can deal permanently with them. + </p> + <p> + We must catch them young; we must make them happy, for they have + capabilities for childlike happiness, and we must make their lives as + useful as possible. But we must no longer allow them the curse of + uncontrolled liberty. + </p> + <p> + Again, no boy should be discharged from reformatory or industrial schools + as "unfit for training" unless passed on to some institution suitable to + his age and condition. If we have no such institutions, as of course we + have not, then the State must provide them. And the magistrates must have + the power to commit boys and girls who are charged before them to suitable + industrial schools or reformatories as freely, as certainly, as + unquestioned, and as definitely as they now commit them to prison. + </p> + <p> + At present magistrates have not this power, for though, as a matter of + course, these institutions receive numbers of boys and girls from + police-courts, the institutions have the power to Refuse, to grant + "licences" or to "discharge." So it happens that the meshes of the net are + large enough to allow those that ought to be detained to go free. + </p> + <p> + No one can possibly doubt that a provision of this character would largely + diminish the number of those that become homeless vagrants. + </p> + <p> + But I proceed to my second suggestion—the detention and segregation + of all professional tramps. If it is intolerable that an army of poor + afflicted human beings should live homeless and nomadic lives, it is still + more intolerable that an army of men and women who are not deficient in + intelligence, and who are possessed of fairly healthy bodies should, in + these days, be allowed to live as our professional tramps live. + </p> + <p> + I have already spoken of the fascination attached to a life of + irresponsible liberty. The wind on the heath, the field and meadow + glistening with dew or sparkling with flowers, the singing of the bird, + the joy of life, and no rent day coming round, who would not be a tramp! + Perhaps our professional tramps think nothing of these things, for to eat, + to sleep, to be free of work, to be uncontrolled, to have no anxieties, + save the gratification of animal demands and animal passions, is the + perfection of life for thousands of our fellow men and women. + </p> + <p> + Is this kind of life to be permitted? Every sensible person will surely + say that it ought not to be permitted. Yet the number of people who attach + themselves to this life continually increases, for year by year the prison + commissioners tell us that the number of persons imprisoned for vagrancy, + sleeping out, indecency, etc., continues to increase, and that short terms + of imprisonment only serve as periods of recuperation for them, for in + prison they are healed of their sores and cleansed from their vermin. + </p> + <p> + With every decent fellow who tramps in search of work we must have the + greatest sympathy, but for professional tramps we must provide very + simply. Most of these men, women and children find their way into prison, + workhouses and casual wards at some time or other. When the man gets into + prison, the woman and children go into the nearest workhouse. When the man + is released from prison he finds the woman and children waiting for him, + and away they go refreshed and cleansed by prison and workhouse treatment. + </p> + <p> + We must stop for ever this costly and disastrous course of life. How? By + establishing in every county and under county authorities, or, if + necessary, by a combination of counties, special colonies for vagrants, + one for males and another for females. Every vagrant who could not give + proof that he had some definite object in tramping must be committed to + these colonies and detained, till such time as definite occupation or home + be found for him. + </p> + <p> + Here they should live and work, practically earning their food and + clothing; their lives should be made clean and decent, and certainly + economical. For these colonies there must be of course State aid. + </p> + <p> + The children must be adopted by the board of guardians or education + authorities and trained in small homes outside the workhouse gates this + should be compulsory. + </p> + <p> + These two plans would certainly clear away the worst and most hopeless + tribes of nomads, and though for a short time they would impose + considerable pecuniary obligations upon us, yet we should profit even + financially in the near future, and, best of all, should prevent a second + generation arising to fill the place of those detained. + </p> + <p> + The same methods should be adopted with the wretched mass of humanity that + crowds nightly on the Thames Embankment. Philanthropy is worse than + useless with the great majority of these people. Hot soup in the small + hours of a cold morning is doubtless comforting to them, and if the night + is wet, foggy, etc., a cover for a few hours is doubtless a luxury. They + drink the soup, they take advantage of the cover, and go away, to return + at night for more soup and still another cover. Oh, the folly of it all! + </p> + <p> + We must have shelters for them, but the County Council must provide them. + Large, clean and healthy places into which, night by night, the human + derelicts from the streets should be taken by special police. + </p> + <p> + But there should be no release with the morning light, but detention while + full inquiries are made regarding them. Friends would doubtless come + forward to help many, but the remainder should be classified according to + age and physical and mental condition, and released only when some + satisfactory place or occupation is forthcoming for them. + </p> + <p> + The nightly condition of the Embankment is not only disgraceful, but it is + dangerous to the health and wellbeing of the community. + </p> + <p> + It is almost inconceivable that we should allow those parts of London + which are specially adapted for the convenience of the public to be + monopolised by a mass of diseased and unclean humanity. If we would but + act sensibly with these classes, I am sure we could then deal in an + effectual manner with that portion of the nomads for whom there is hope. + </p> + <p> + If the vast amount of money that is poured out in the vain effort to help + those whom it is impossible to help was devoted to those that are + helpable, the difficulty would be solved. + </p> + <p> + So I would suggest, and it is no new suggestion, that all philanthropic + societies that deal with the submerged should unite and co-ordinate with + the authorities. That private individuals who have money, time or ability + at their command should unite with them. That one great all-embracing + organisation, empowered and aided by the State, should be formed, to which + the man, woman or family that is overtaken or overwhelmed by misfortune + could turn in time of their need with the assurance that their needs would + be sympathetically considered and their requirements wisely attended to. + </p> + <p> + An organisation of this description would prevent tens of thousands from + becoming vagrants, and a world of misery and unspeakable squalor would be + prevented. + </p> + <p> + The recent Report on the Poor Law foreshadows an effort of this + description, and in Germany this method is tried with undoubted success. + </p> + <p> + Some day we shall try it, but that day will not come till we have realised + how futile, how expensive our present methods are. The Poor Law system + needs recasting. Charity must be divorced from religion. Philanthropic and + semi-religious organisations must be separated from their commercial + instincts and commercial greed. The workhouse, the prison, the Church Army + and the Salvation Army's shelters and labour homes must no longer form the + circle round which so many hopelessly wander. + </p> + <p> + No man or set of men must be considered the saviour of the poor, and + though much knowledge will be required, it perhaps will be well not to + have too much. + </p> + <p> + Above all, the desire to prevent, rather than the desire to restore, must + be the aim of the organisation which should embrace every parish in our + land. + </p> + <p> + Finally, and in a few words, my methods would be detention and protective + care for the afflicted or defective, detention and segregation for the + tramps, and a great charitable State-aided organisation to deal with the + unfortunate. + </p> + <p> + Tramps we shall continue to have, but there need be nothing degrading + about them, if only the professional element can be eliminated. + </p> + <p> + Labour exchanges are doing a splendid work for the genuine working man + whose labour must often be migratory. But every labour exchange should + have its clean lodging-house, in which the decent fellows who want work, + and are fitted for work, may stay for a night, and thus avoid the + contamination attending the common lodging-houses or the degradation and + detention attending casual wards. + </p> + <p> + There exists, I am sure, great possibilities for good in labour exchanges, + if, and if only, their services can be devoted to the genuinely + unemployed. + </p> + <p> + Already I have said they are doing much, and one of the most useful things + they do is the advancement of rail-fares to men when work is obtained at a + distance. A development in this direction will do much to end the + disasters that attend decent fellows when they go on tramp. Migratory + labour is unfortunately an absolute necessity, for our industrial and + commercial life demand it, and almost depend upon it. The men who supply + that want are quite as useful citizens as the men who have permanent and + settled work. But their lives are subject to many dangers, temptations, + and privations from which they ought to be delivered. + </p> + <p> + The more I reflect upon the present methods for dealing with professional + tramps, the more I am persuaded that these methods are foolish and + extravagant. But the more I reflect on the life of the genuinely + unemployed that earnestly desire work and are compelled to tramp in search + of it, the more I am persuaded that such life is attended by many dangers. + The probability being that if the tramp and search be often repeated or + long-continued, the desire for, and the ability to undergo, regular work + will disappear. + </p> + <p> + But physical and mental inferiority, together with the absence of moral + purpose, have a great deal to say with regard to the number of our + unemployed. + </p> + <p> + If you ask me the source of this stunted manhood, I point you to the + narrow streets of the underworld. Thence they issue, and thence alone. + </p> + <p> + Do you ask the cause? The causes are many! First and foremost stands that + all-pervading cause—the housing of the poor. Who can enumerate the + thousands that have breathed the fetid air of the miserable + dwelling-places in our slums? Who dare picture how they live and sleep, as + they lie, unripe sex with sex, for mutual taint? I dare not, and if I did + no publisher could print it. + </p> + <p> + Who dare describe the life of a mother-wife, whose husband and children + have become dependent upon her earnings! I dare not! Who dare describe the + exact life and doings of four families living in a little house intended + for one family? Who can describe the life, speech, actions and atmosphere + of such places? I cannot, for the task would be too disgusting! + </p> + <p> + For tens of thousands of people are allowed, or compelled, to live and die + under those conditions. How can vigorous manhood or pure womanhood come + out of them? Ought we to expect, have we any right to expect, manhood and + womanhood born and bred under such conditions to be other than blighted? + </p> + <p> + Whether we expect it or not matters but little, for we have this mass of + blighted humanity with us, and, like an old man of the sea, it is a burden + upon our back, a burden that is not easily got rid of. + </p> + <p> + What are we doing with this burden in the present? How are we going to + prevent it in the future? are two serious questions that must be answered, + and quickly, too, or something worse will happen to us. + </p> + <p> + The authorities must see to it at once that children shall have as much + air and breathing space in their homes by night as they have in the + schools by day. + </p> + <p> + What sense can there be in demanding and compelling a certain amount of + air space in places where children are detained for five and a half hours, + and then allow those children to stew in apologies for rooms, where the + atmosphere is vile beyond description, and where they are crowded + indiscriminately for the remaining hours? + </p> + <p> + This is the question of the day and the hour. Drink, foreign invasion, the + House of Lords or the House of Commons, Tariff Reform or Free Trade, none + of these questions, no, nor the whole lot of them combined, compare for + one moment in importance with this one awful question. + </p> + <p> + Give the poor good airy housing at a reasonable rent, and half the + difficulties against which our nation runs its thick head would disappear. + Hospitals and prisons would disappear too as if by magic, for it is to + these places that the smitten manhood finds its way. + </p> + <p> + I know it is a big question! But it is a question that has got to be + solved, and in solving it some of our famous and cherished notions will + have to go. Every house, no matter to whom it belongs, or who holds the + lease, who lets or sub-lets, every inhabited house must be licensed by the + local authorities for a certain number of inmates, so many and no more; a + maximum, but no minimum. + </p> + <p> + Local authorities even now have great powers concerning construction, + drains, etc. Let them now be empowered to make stringent rules about + habitations other than their municipal houses. The piggeries misnamed + lodging-houses, the common shelters, etc., are inspected and licensed for + a certain number of inmates; it is high time that this was done with the + wretched houses in which the poor live. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the irony of it! Idle tramps must not be crowded, but the children of + the poor may be crowded to suffocation. This must surely stop; if not, it + will stop us! Again I say, that local authorities must have the power to + decide the number of inhabitants that any house shall accommodate, and + license it accordingly, and of course have legal power to enforce their + decision. + </p> + <p> + The time has come for a thorough investigation. I would have every room in + every house visited by properly appointed officers. I would have every + detail as to size of room, number of persons and children, rent paid, + etc., etc.; I would have its conditions and fitness for human habitation + inquired into and reported upon. + </p> + <p> + I would miss no house, I would excuse none. A standard should be set as to + the condition and position of every house, and the number it might be + allowed to accommodate. This would bring many dark things into the light + of day, and I am afraid the reputation of many respectable people would + suffer, and their pockets too, although they tell us that they "have but a + life-interest" in the pestiferous places. But if we drive people out of + these places, where will they go? + </p> + <p> + Well, out they must go! and it is certain that there is at present no + place for them! + </p> + <p> + Places must be prepared for them, and local authorities must prepare them. + Let them address themselves to this matter and no longer shirk their duty + with regard to the housing of the poor. Let them stop for ever the + miserable pretence of housing the poor that they at present pursue. For be + it known that they house "respectable" people only, those that have + limited families and can pay a high rental. + </p> + <p> + If local authorities cannot do it, then the State must step in and help + them, for it must be done. It seems little use waiting for private + speculation or philanthropic trusts to show us the way in this matter, for + both want and expect too high an interest for their outlay. But a good + return will assuredly be forthcoming if the evil be tackled in a sensible + way. + </p> + <p> + Let no one be downhearted about new schemes for housing the poor not + paying! Why, everything connected with the poor from the cradle to the + grave is a source of good profit to some one, if not to themselves. + </p> + <p> + Let a housing plan be big enough and simple enough, and I am certain that + it will pay even when it provides for the very poor. But old ideals will + have to be forsaken and new ones substituted. + </p> + <p> + I have for many years considered this question very deeply, and from the + side of the very poor. I think that I know how the difficulty can be met, + and I am prepared to place my suggestions for housing the poor before any + responsible person or authority who would care to consider the matter. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it is due to the public to say here that one of the greatest + sorrows of my life was my inability to make good a scheme that a rich + friend and myself formulated some years ago. This failure was due to the + serious illness of my friend, and I hope that it will yet materialise. + </p> + <p> + But, in addition to the housing, there are other matters which affect the + vigour and virility of the poor. School days must be extended till the age + of sixteen. Municipal playgrounds open in the evening must be established. + If boys and girls are kept at school till sixteen, older and weaker people + will be able to get work which these boys have, but ought not to have. The + nation demands a vigorous manhood, but the nation cannot have it without + some sacrifice, which means doing without child labour, for child labour + is the destruction of virile manhood. + </p> + <p> + Emigration is often looked upon as the great specific. But the + multiplication of agencies for exporting the young, the healthy, and the + strong to the colonies causes me some alarm. For emigration as at present + conducted certainly does not lessen the number of the unfit and the + helpless. + </p> + <p> + It must be apparent to any one who thinks seriously upon this matter that + a continuance of the present methods is bound to entail disastrous + consequences, and to promote racial decay at home. The problem of the + degenerates, the physical and mental weaklings is already a pressing + national question. But serious as the question is at the present moment, + it is but light in its intensity compared with what it must be in the near + future, unless we change our methods. One fact ought to be definitely + understood and seriously pondered, and it is this: no emigration agency, + no board of guardians, no church organisation and no human salvage + organisation emigrates or assists to emigrate young people of either sex + who cannot pass a severe medical examination and be declared mentally and + physically sound. This demands serious thought; for the puny, the weak and + the unfit are ineligible; our colonies will have none of them, and perhaps + our colonies are wise, so the unfit remain at home to be our despair and + affliction. + </p> + <p> + But our colonies demand not only physical and mental health, but moral + health also, for boys and girls from reformatory and industrial schools + are not acceptable; though the training given in these institutions ought + to make the young people valuable assets in a new country. + </p> + <p> + The serious fact that only the best are exported and that all the + afflicted and the weak remain at home is, I say, worthy of profound + attention. + </p> + <p> + Thousands of healthy working men with a little money and abundant grit + emigrate of their own choice and endeavour. Fine fellows they generally + are, and good fortune attends them! Thousands of others with no money but + plenty of strength are assisted "out," and they are equally good, while + thousands of healthy young women are assisted "out" also. All through the + piece the strong and healthy leave our shores, and the weaklings are left + at home. + </p> + <p> + It is always with mixed feelings that I read of boys and girls being sent + to Canada, for while I feel hopeful regarding their future, I know that + the matter does not end with them; for I appreciate some of the evils that + result to the old country from the method of selection. + </p> + <p> + Emigration, then, as at present conducted, is no cure for the evil it is + supposed to remedy. Nay, it increases the evil, for it secures to our + country an ever-increasing number of those who are absolutely unfitted to + fulfil the duties of citizenship. + </p> + <p> + Yet emigration might be a beneficent thing if it were wisely conducted on + a comprehensive basis, which should include a fair proportion of those + that are now excluded because of their unfitness. + </p> + <p> + Are we to go on far ever with our present method of dealing with those who + have been denied wisdom and stature? Who are what they are, but whose + disabilities cannot be charged upon themselves, and for whom there is no + place other than prison or workhouse? + </p> + <p> + Yet many of them have wits, if not brains, and are clever in little ways + of their own. At home we refuse them the advantages that are solicitously + pressed upon their bigger and stronger brothers. Abroad every door is + locked against them. What are they to do? The Army and Navy will have none + of them! and industrial life has no place for them. So prison, workhouse + and common lodging-houses are their only homes. + </p> + <p> + Wise emigration methods would include many of them, and decent fellows + they would make if given a chance. Oxygen and new environment, with plenty + of food, etc., would make an alteration in their physique, and regular + work would prove their salvation. But this matter should, and must be, + undertaken by the State, for philanthropy cannot deal with it; and when + the State does undertake it, consequences unthought-of will follow, for + the State will be able to close one-half of its prisons. + </p> + <p> + It is the helplessness of weaklings that provides the State with more than + half its prisoners. Is it impossible, I would ask, for a Government like + ours, with all its resources of wealth, power and influence to devise and + carry out some large scheme of emigration? If colonial governments wisely + refuse our inferior youths, is it not unwise for our own Government to + neglect them? + </p> + <p> + In the British Empire is there no idle land that calls for men and + culture? Here we in England have thousands of young fellows who, because + of their helplessness, are living lives of idleness and wrongdoing. + </p> + <p> + Time after time these young men find their way into prison, and every + short sentence they undergo sends them back to liberty more hopeless and + helpless. Many of them are not bad fellows; they have some qualities that + are estimable, but they are undisciplined and helpless. Not all the + discharged prisoners' aid societies in the land, even with Government + assistance, can procure reasonable and progressive employment for them. + </p> + <p> + The thought of thousands of young men, not criminals, spending their lives + in a senseless and purposeless round of short imprisonments, simply + because they are not quite as big and as strong as their fellows, fills me + with wonder and dismay, for I can estimate some of the consequences that + result. + </p> + <p> + Is it impossible, I would ask, for our Government to take up this matter + in a really great way? Can no arrangement be made with our colonies for + the reception and training of these young fellows? Probably not so long as + the colonies can secure an abundance of better human material. But has a + bona-fide effort been made in this direction? I much doubt it since the + days of transportation. + </p> + <p> + Is it not possible for our Government to obtain somewhere in the whole of + its empire a sufficiency of suitable land, to which the best of them may + be transplanted, and on which they may be trained for useful service and + continuous work? + </p> + <p> + Is it not possible to develop the family system for them, and secure a + sufficient number of house fathers and mothers to care for them in a + domestic way, leaving their physical and industrial training to others? + Very few know these young fellows better than myself, and I am bold enough + to say that under such conditions the majority of them would prove useful + men. + </p> + <p> + Surely a plan of this description would be infinitely better than + continued imprisonments for miserable offences, and much less expensive, + too! + </p> + <p> + I am very anxious to emphasise this point. The extent of our prison + population depends upon the treatment these young men receive at the hands + of the State. + </p> + <p> + So long as the present treatment prevails, so long will the State be + assured of a permanent prison population. + </p> + <p> + But the evil does not end with the continuance and expense of prison. The + army of the unfit is perpetually increased by this procedure. Very few of + these young men—I think I may say with safety, none of them—after + three or four convictions become settled and decent citizens; for they + cannot if they would, there is no opportunity. They would not if they + could, for the desire is no longer existent. + </p> + <p> + We have already preventive detention for older persons, who, having been + four times convicted of serious crime, are proved to be "habitual + criminals." But hopeless as the older criminals are, the country is quite + willing to adopt such measures and bear such expense as may be thought + requisite for the purpose of detaining, and perchance reforming them. + </p> + <p> + But the young men for whom I now plead are a hundred times more numerous + and a hundred times more hopeful than the old habitual criminals, whose + position excites so much attention. We must have an oversea colony for + these young men, and an Act of Parliament for the "preventive detention" + of young offenders who are repeatedly convicted. + </p> + <p> + A third conviction should ensure every homeless offender the certainty of + committal to the colony. This would stop for ever the senseless short + imprisonment system, for we could keep them free of prison till their + third conviction, when they should only be detained pending arrangement + for their emigration. + </p> + <p> + The more I think upon this matter the more firmly I am convinced that + nothing less will prevail. Though, of course, even with this plan, the + young men who are hopelessly afflicted with disease or deformity must be + excluded. For them the State must make provision at home, but not in + prison. + </p> + <p> + A scheme of this character, if once put into active and thorough + operation, would naturally work itself out, for year by year the number of + young fellows to whom it would apply would grow less and less; but while + working itself out, it would also work out the salvation of many young + men, and bring lasting benefits upon our country. + </p> + <p> + Vagrancy, with its attendant evils, would be greatly diminished, many + prisons would be closed, workhouses and casual wards would be less + necessary. The cost of the scheme would be more than repaid to the + community by the savings effected in other ways. The moral effect also + would be equally large, and the physical effects would be almost past + computing, for it would do much to arrest the decay of the race that + appears inseparable from our present conditions and procedure. + </p> + <p> + But the State must do something more than this; for many young habitual + offenders are too young for emigration. For them the State reformatories + must be established, regardless of their physical condition. To these + reformatories magistrates must have the power of committal as certainly as + they have the power of committal to prison. There must be no "by your + leave," no calling in a doctor to examine the offender. But promptly and + certainly when circumstances justify the committal to a State reformatory, + the youthful offender should go. With the certainty that, be his physique + and intellect what they may, he would be detained, corrected and trained + for some useful life. Or, if found "quite unfit" or feeble-minded, sent to + an institution suitable to his condition. + </p> + <p> + Older criminals, when proved to be mentally unsound, are detained in + places other than prisons till their health warrants discharge. But the + potential criminals among the young, no matter how often they are brought + before the courts, are either sent back to hopeless liberty or thrust into + prison for a brief period. + </p> + <p> + I repeat that philanthropy cannot attempt to deal with the habitual + offenders, either in the days of their boyhood or in their early manhood. + For philanthropy can at the most deal with but a few, and those few must + be of the very best. + </p> + <p> + I cannot believe that our colonies would refuse to ratify the arrangement + that I have outlined, if they were invited to do so by our own Government, + and given proper security. They owe us something; we called them into + existence, we guarantee their safety, they receive our grit, blood and + money; will they not receive, then, under proper conditions and + safeguards, some of our surplus youth, even if it be weak? I believe they + will! + </p> + <p> + In the strictures that I have ventured to pass upon the methods of the + Salvation Army, I wish it to be distinctly understood that I make no + attack upon the character and intentions of the men and women who compose + it. I know that they are both earnest and sincere. For many of them I have + a great admiration. My strictures refer to the methods and the methods + only. + </p> + <p> + For long years I have been watchful of results, and I have been so placed + in life that I have had plenty of opportunities for seeing and learning. + My disappointment has been great, for I expected great things. Many other + men and women whose judgment is entitled to respect believe as I do. But + they remain silent, hoping that after all great good may come. But I must + speak, for I believe the methods adopted are altogether unsound, and in + reality tend to aggravate the evils they set out to cure. In 1900 I + ventured to express the following opinion of shelters— + </p> + <p> + "EXTRACTS FROM 'PICTURES AND PROBLEMS' + </p> + <p> + "I look with something approaching dismay at the multiplication of these + institutions throughout the length and breadth of our land. To the loafing + vagrant class, a very large class, I know, but a class not worthy of much + consideration, they are a boon. These men tramp from one town to another, + and a week or two in each suits them admirably, till the warm weather and + light nights arrive, and then they are off. + </p> + <p> + "This portion of the 'submerged' will always be submerged till some power + takes hold of them and compels them to work out their own salvation. + </p> + <p> + "But there is such a procession of them that the labour homes, etc., get + continual recruits, and the managers are enabled to contract for a great + deal of unskilled work. + </p> + <p> + "In all our large towns there are numbers of self-respecting men, men who + have committed no crime, save the unpardonable crime of growing old. Time + was when such men could get odd clerical work, envelope and circular + addressing, and a variety of light but irregular employment, at which, by + economy and the help of their wives, they made a sort of living. But these + men are now driven to the wall, for their poorly paid and irregular work + is taken from them." + </p> + <p> + In 1911 A. M. Nicholl, in his not unfriendly book on GENERAL BOOTH AND THE + SALVATION ARMY, makes the following statement, which I make no apology for + reproducing. + </p> + <p> + His judgment, considering the position he held with the Army for so many + years, is worthy of consideration. Here are some of his words— + </p> + <p> + "From an economic standpoint the social experiment of the Salvation Army + stands condemned almost root and branch. So much the worse for economics, + the average Salvation Army officer will reply. But at the end of twenty + years the Army cannot point to one single cause of social distress that it + has removed, or to one single act which it has promoted that has dealt a + death-blow at one social evil.... + </p> + <p> + "A more serious question, one which lies at the root of all indiscriminate + charity, is the value to the community of these shelters. So far as the + men in the shelters are benefited by them, they do not elevate them, + either physically or morally. A proportion—what proportion?—are + weeded out, entirely by the voluntary action of the men themselves, and + given temporary work, carrying sandwich-boards, addressing envelopes, + sorting paper, etc.; but the cause of their social dilapidation remains + unaltered. They enter the shelter, pay their twopence or fourpence as the + case may be (and few are allowed to enter unless they do), they listen to + some moral advice once a week, with which they are surfeited inside and + outside the shelter, they go to bed, and next morning leave the shelter to + face the streets as they came in, The shelter gets no nearer to the cause + of their depravity than it does to the economic cause of their failure, or + to the economic remedy which the State must eventually introduce.... + </p> + <p> + "The nomads of our civilisation wander past us in their fringy, dirty + attire night by night. If a man stops us in the streets and tells us that + he is starving, and we offer him a ticket to a labour home or a night + shelter, he will tell you that the chances are one out of ten if he will + procure admission. The better class of the submerged, or those who use the + provision for the submerged in order to gratify their own selfishness, + have taken possession of the vacancies, and so they wander on. If a man + applies for temporary work, the choice of industry is disappointingly + limited. One is tempted to think that the whole superstructure of cheap + and free shelters has tended to the standardisation of a low order of + existence in this netherworld that attracted the versatile philanthropist + at the head of the Salvation Army twenty years ago.... + </p> + <p> + "The general idea about the Salvation Army is, that the nearer it gets to + the most abandoned classes, the more wonderful and the more numerous are + the converts. It is a sad admission to pass on to the world that the + opposite is really the case. The results are fewer. General Booth would + almost break his heart if he knew the proportion of men who have been + 'saved,' in the sense that he most values, through his social scheme. But + he ought to know, and the Church and the world ought to know, and in order + that it may I will make bold to say that the officials cannot put their + hands on the names of a thousand men in all parts of the world who are + to-day members of the Army who were converted at the penitent form of + shelters and elevators, who are now earning a living outside the control + of the Army's social work." + </p> + <p> + But the public appear to have infinite faith in the multiplication and + enlargement of these shelters, as the following extract from a daily paper + of December 1911 will show— + </p> + <p> + "'Since the days of Mahomet, not forgetting St. Francis and Martin Luther, + I doubt if there is any man who has started, without help from the + Government, such a world-wide movement as this.' + </p> + <p> + "This was Sir George Askwith's tribute to General Booth and the Salvation + Army at the opening of the new wing of the men's Elevators in Spa Road, + Bermondsey, yesterday afternoon. The task of declaring the wing open + devolved upon the Duke of Argyll, who had beside him on the platform the + Duchess of Marlborough, Lady St. Davids, Lord Armstrong, Sir Daniel and + Lady Hamilton, Alderman Sir Charles C. Wakefield, Sir Edward Clarke, K.C., + Sir George Askwith, and the Mayor of Bermondsey and General Booth. + </p> + <p> + "The General, who is just back from Denmark, spoke for three-quarters of + an hour, notwithstanding his great age and his admission that he was 'far + from well.' The Elevator, as its name implies, seeks to raise men who are + wholly destitute and give them a fresh start. The new wing has been + erected at a cost of L10,000, and the Elevator, which accommodates 590 men + and covers two-and-a-half acres, represents an expenditure of L30,000, and + is the largest institution of its kind in the world. + </p> + <p> + "'The men,' said the General, 'are admitted on two conditions only, that + they are willing to obey orders, and ready to work. Before he has his + breakfast a man must earn it, and the same with each meal, the ticket + given him entitling him to remuneration in proportion to the work he has + done. If the men's conduct is good, they are passed on to another of the + Army's institutions, and ultimately some post is secured for them through + the employers of labour with whom the Army is in touch.'" + </p> + <p> + I believe General Booth to be sincere, and that he believes exactly what + he stated. But even sincerity must not be allowed to mislead a generous + public. Employers of labour do not, cannot, and will not keep positions + open for General Booth or any other man. Employers require strong, healthy + men who can give value for the wages paid. Thousands of men who have never + entered shelters or prison are not only available but eager for positions + that show any prospect of permanence, whether the work be heavy or + skilled. For work that requires neither brains, skill or much physical + strength, thousands of men whose characters are good are also available. I + venture to say that General Booth cannot supply the public with a + reasonable list of men who, having passed through the shelters, have been + put into permanent work. + </p> + <p> + For every man and woman who is seeking to uplift their fellows I have + heartfelt sympathy. For every organisation that is earnestly seeking to + alleviate or remove social evils I wish abundant success. Against the + organisations named I have not the slightest feeling. If they were + successful in the work they undertake, no one in England would rejoice + more than myself. But they are not successful, and because I believe that + their claim to success blinds a well-intentioned and generous public, and + prevents real consideration of deep-seated evils, I make these comments + and give the above extracts. + </p> + <p> + I question whether any one in London knows better than myself the + difficulty of finding employment for a man who is "down," for I have + written hundreds of letters, I have visited numerous employers for this + one purpose; I have begged and pleaded with employers, sometimes I have + offered "security" for the honesty of men for whom I was concerned. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally, but only occasionally, was I successful. I have advertised + on men's behalf frequently, but nothing worthy of the name of "work" has + resulted. I know the mind of employers, and I know their difficulties; I + have been too often in touch with them not to know. I have also been in + touch with many men who have been in the shelters, elevators, bridges, + labour homes and tents; I know their experience has been one of + disappointment. I have written on behalf of such men to the + "head-quarters," but nothing has resulted but a few days' work at + wood-chopping, envelope addressing, or bill distributing, none of which + can be called employment. + </p> + <p> + Day after day men who have been led to expect work wait, and wait in vain, + in or about the head-quarters for the promised work that so rarely comes. + For these men I am concerned, for them I am bold enough to risk the + censure of good people, for I hold that it is not only cruel, but wicked + to excite in homeless men hopes that cannot possibly be realised. + </p> + <p> + This point has been driven home to my very heart, for I have seen what + comes to pass when the spark of hope is extinguished. Better, far better, + that a man who is "down" should trust to his own exertions and rely upon + himself than entertain illusions and rely upon others. + </p> + <p> + And now I close by presenting in catalogue form some of the steps that I + believe to be necessary for dealing with the terrible problems of our + great underworld. + </p> + <p> + First: the permanent detention and segregation of all who are classified + as feeble-minded. Second: the permanent detention and segregation of all + professional tramps. Third: proper provision for men and women who are + hopelessly crippled or disabled. Fourth: establishment by the educational + authorities, or by the State of reformatory schools, for youthful + delinquents and juvenile adults regardless of physical weakness, + deprivations or disease. Fifth: compulsory education, physical, mental and + technical, up to sixteen years of age. Sixth: the establishment of + municipal play-grounds and organised play for youths who have left school. + Seventh: national and State-aided emigration to include the best of the + "unfit." Eighth: the abolition of common lodging-houses, and the + establishment of municipal lodging-houses for men and also for women. + Ninth: the establishment of trade boards for all industries. Tenth: proper + and systematic help for widows who have young children. Eleventh: thorough + inspection and certification by local authorities of all houses and + "dwellings" inhabited by the poor. Twelfth: housing for the very poor by + municipal authorities, with abolition of fire-places, the heating to be + provided from one central source. The housing to include a restaurant + where nourishing but simple food may be obtained for payment that ensures + a small profit. Thirteenth: more abundant and reasonable provision of work + by the State, local authorities and for the unemployed. Fourteenth: a + co-ordination of all philanthropic and charity agencies to form one great + society with branches in every parish. + </p> + <p> + Give us these things, and surely they are not impossible, and half our + present expensive difficulties would disappear. Fewer prisons, workhouses + and hospitals would be required. The need for shelters and labour homes + would not exist. The necessity for the activities of many charitable + agencies whose constant appeals are so disturbing and puzzling, but whose + work is now required, would pass away too. + </p> + <p> + But with all these things given, there would be still great need for the + practice of kindness and the development of brotherly love. For without + brotherly love and kindly human interest, laws are but cast-iron rules, + and life but a living death. What is life worth? What can life be worth if + it be only self-centred? To love is to live! to feel and take an interest + in others is to be happy indeed, and to feel the pulses thrill. + </p> + <p> + And I am sure that love is abundant in our old country, but it is largely + paralysed and mystified. For many objects that love would fain accomplish + appear stupendous and hopeless. What a different old England we might + have, if the various and hopeless classes that I have enumerated were + permanently detained. For then love would come to its own, the real + misfortunes of life would then form a passport to practical help. Widows + would no longer be unceremoniously kicked into the underworld; accidents + and disablements would no longer condemn men and women to live lives of + beggary. Best of all, charitable and kindly deeds would no longer be done + by proxy. It is because I see how professional and contented beggary + monopolises so much effort and costs so much money; because I see how it + deprives the really unfortunate and the suffering poor of the practical + help that would to them be such a blessed boon, that I am anxious for its + days to be ended. May that day soon come, for when it comes, there will be + some chance of love and justice obtaining deliverance for the oppressed + and deserving poor who abound in London's dark underworld. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of London's Underworld, by Thomas Holmes + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LONDON'S UNDERWORLD *** + +***** This file should be named 1420-h.htm or 1420-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/2/1420/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteeer, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: London's Underworld + +Author: Thomas Holmes + +Posting Date: August 22, 2008 [EBook #1420] +Release Date: August, 1998 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LONDON'S UNDERWORLD *** + + + + + + + + + + +LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + +by Thomas Holmes + +(Secretary of the Howard Association) + +1912 + + + + +PREFACE + +I am hopeful that some of the experiences given in the following +chapters may throw a little light upon some curious but very serious +social problems. Corporate humanity always has had, and always will +have, serious problems to consider. + +The more civilised we become the more complex and serious will be our +problems--unless sensible and merciful yet thorough methods are adopted +for dealing with the evils. I think that my pages will show that the +methods now in use for coping with some of our great evils do not +lessen, but considerably increase the evils they seek to cure. + +With great diffidence I venture to point out what I conceive to be +reasons for failure, and also to offer some suggestions that, if +adopted, will, I believe, greatly minimise, if not remove, certain +evils. + +I make no claim to prophetic wisdom; I know no royal road to social +salvation, nor of any specific to cure all human sorrow and smart. + +But I have had a lengthened and unique experience. I have closely +observed, and I have deeply pondered. I have seen, therefore I ask that +the experiences narrated, the statements made, and the views expressed +in this book may receive earnest consideration, not only from those who +have the temerity to read it, but serious consideration also from our +Statesmen and local authorities, from our Churches and philanthropists, +from our men of business and from men of the world. + +For truly we are all deeply concerned in the various matters which are +dealt with in "London's Underworld." + + THOMAS HOLMES. +12, Bedford Road, + +Tottenham, N. + + +CONTENTS + + CHAP. + + I MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + II LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + III THE NOMADS. + IV LODGING-HOUSES + V FURNISHED APARTMENTS + VI THE DISABLED + VII WOMEN IN THE UNDERWORLD + VIII MARRIAGE IN THE UNDERWORLD + IX BRAINS IN THE UNDERWORLD + X PLAY IN THE UNDERWORLD + XI ON THE VERGE OF THE UNDERWORLD + XII IN PRISONS OFT + XIII UNEMPLOYED AND UNEMPLOYABLE + XIV SUGGESTIONS. + + + + +LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + + + +CHAPTER I. MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + +The odds and ends of humanity, so plentiful in London's great city, +have for many years largely constituted my circle of friends and +acquaintances. + +They are strange people, for each of them is, or was, possessed of some +dominating vice, passion, whim or weakness which made him incapable of +fulfilling the ordinary duties of respectable citizenship. + +They had all descended from the Upper World, to live out strange lives, +or die early deaths in the mysterious but all pervading world below the +line. + +Some of them I saw, as it were, for a moment only; suddenly out of the +darkness they burst upon me; suddenly the darkness again received them +out of my sight. + +But our acquaintance was of sufficient duration to allow me to acquire +some knowledge, and to gain some experience of lives more than strange, +and of characters far removed from the ordinary. + +But with others I spent many hours, months, or years as circumstances +warranted, or as opportunities permitted. Some of them became my +intimates; and though seven long years have passed since I gave up +police-court duties, our friendship bears the test of time, for they +remain my friends and acquaintances still. + +But some have passed away, and others are passing; one by one my list +of friends grows less, and were it not that I, even now, pick up a new +friend or two, I should run the risk of being a lonely old man. Let me +confess, however, that my friends have brought me many worries, have +caused me much disappointment, have often made me very angry. Sometimes, +I must own, they have caused me real sorrow and occasionally feelings +of utter despair. But I have had my compensations, we have had our happy +times, we have even known our merry moments. + +Though pathos has permeated all our intercourse, humour and comedy have +never been far away; though sometimes tragedy has been in waiting. + +But over one and all of my friends hung a great mystery, a mystery that +always puzzled and sometimes paralysed me, a mystery that always set me +to thinking. + +Now many of my friends were decent and good-hearted fellows; yet they +were outcasts. Others were intelligent, clever and even industrious, +quite capable of holding their own with respectable men, still they were +helpless. + +Others were fastidiously honest in some things, yet they were persistent +rogues who could not see the wrong or folly of dishonesty; many of them +were clear-headed in ninety-nine directions, but in the hundredth they +were muddled if not mentally blind. + +Others had known and appreciated the comforts of refined life, yet +they were happy and content amidst the horror and dirt of a common +lodging-house! Why was it that these fellows failed, and were content to +fail in life? + +What is that little undiscovered something that determines their lives +and drives them from respectable society? + +What compensations do they get for all the suffering and privations they +undergo? I don't know! I wish that I did! but these things I have never +been able to discover. + +Many times I have put the questions to myself; many times I have put the +questions to my friends, who appear to know about as much and just as +little upon the matter as myself. + +They do not realise that in reality they do differ from ordinary +citizens; I realise the difference, but can find no reason for it. + +No! it is not drink, although a few of them were dipsomaniacs, for +generally they were sober men. + +I will own my ignorance, and say that I do not know what that little +something is that makes a man into a criminal instead of constituting +him into a hero. This I do know: that but for the possession of a +little something, many of my friends, now homeless save when they are +in prison, would be performing life's duties in settled and comfortable +homes, and would be quite as estimable citizens as ordinary people. + +Probably they would prove better citizens than the majority of people, +for while they possess some inherent weakness, they also possess in a +great degree many estimable qualities which are of little use in their +present life. + +These friends of mine not only visit my office and invade my home, but +they turn up at all sorts of inconvenient times and places.--There is my +friend the dipsomaniac, the pocket Hercules, the man of brain and iron +constitution. + +Year after year he holds on to his own strange course, neither poverty +nor prison, delirium tremens nor physical injuries serve to alter him. +He occupies a front seat at a men's meeting on Sunday afternoon when the +bills announce my name. But he comes half drunk and in a talkative +mood, sometimes in a contradictory mood, but generally good tempered. +He punctuates my speech with a loud and emphatic "Hear! hear!" and often +informs the audience that "what Mr. Holmes says is quite true!" The +attendants cannot keep him silent, he tells them that he is my friend; +he makes some claim to being my patron. + +Poor fellow! I speak to him kindly, but incontinently give him the slip, +for I retire by a back way, leaving him to argue my disappearance in no +friendly spirit with the attendants. Yet I have spent many happy hours +with him when, as sometimes happened, he was "in his right mind." + +I, would like to dwell on the wonders of this man's strange and fearsome +life, but I hasten on to tell of a contrast, for my friends present many +contrasts. + +I was hurrying down crowded Bishopsgate at lunch time, lost in thought, +when I felt my hand grasped and a well-known voice say, "Why! Mr. +Holmes, don't you know me?" + +Know him! I should think I do know him; I am proud to know him, for I +venerate him. He is only a french polisher and by no means handsome, his +face is furrowed and seamed by care and sorrow, his hands and clothing +are stained with varnish. Truly he is not much to look at, but if any +one wants an embodiment of pluck and devotion, of never-failing patience +and magnificent love, in my friend you shall find it! + +Born in the slums, he sold matches at seven years of age; at eight he +was in an industrial school; his father was dead, his mother a drunkard; +home he had none! + +Leaving school at sixteen he became first a gardener's assistant, then +a gentleman's servant; in this occupation he saved some money with +which he apprenticed himself to french polishing. From apprentice +to journeyman, from journeyman to business on his own account, were +successive steps; he married, and that brought him among my many +acquaintances. + +He had a nice home, and two beautiful children, and then that great +destroyer of home life, drink! had to be reckoned with. So he came to +consult me. She was a beautiful and cultured woman and full of remorse. + +The stained hands of the french polisher trembled as he signed +a document by which he agreed to pay L1 per week for his wife's +maintenance in an inebriate home for twelve months where she might have +her babe with her. Bravely he did his part, and at the end of the year +he brought her back to a new and better home, where the neighbours knew +nothing of her past. + +For twelve months there was joy in the home, and then a new life came +into it; but with the babe came a relapse; the varnish-stained man was +again at his wits' end. Once more she entered a home, for another year +he worked and toiled to pay the charges, and again he provided a new +home. And she came back to a house that he had bought for her in a new +neighbourhood; they now lived close to me, and my house was open to +them. The story of the following years cannot be told, for she almost +ruined him. Night after night after putting the children to bed, he +searched the streets and public-houses for her; sometimes I went with +him. She pawned his clothes, the children's clothing, and even the +boy's fiddle. He cleaned the house, he cooked the food, he cared for the +children, he even washed and ironed their clothing on Saturday evening +for the coming Sunday. He marked all the clothing, he warned all the +pawnbrokers. At length he obtained a separation order, but tearing it up +he again took her home with him. She went from bad to worse; even down +to the deepest depths and thence to a rescue home. He fetched her out, +and they disappeared from my neighbourhood. + +So I lost them and often wondered what the end had been. To-day he +was smiling; he had with him a youth of twenty, a scholarship boy, the +violinist. He said, "I am just going to pay for his passage to Canada; +he is going to be the pioneer, and perhaps we shall all join him, she +will do better in a new country!" On further inquiry I found that she +was trying hard, and doing better than when I lost them. + +Thinking she needed greater interest in life, he had bought a small +business for her, but "Mr. Holmes, she broke down!" + +Alas! I knew what "breaking down" meant to the poor fellow, the heroic +fellow I ought to have said. And so for her he will leave his kindred, +home and friends; he will forsake the business that he has so slowly and +laboriously built up, he will sacrifice anything in the hope that the +air of Canada "will do her good." let us hope that it may, for her good +is all he lives for, and her good is his religion. + +Twenty years of heartbreaking misery have not killed his love or +withered his hope. Surely love like his cannot fail of its reward. And +maybe in the new world he will have the happiness that has been denied +him in the old world, and in the evening of his life he may have the +peaceful calm that has hitherto been denied him. For this he is seeking +a place in the new world where the partner of his life and the desire +of his eyes may not find it easy to yield to her besetting temptation, +where the air and his steadfast love will "do her good." + +But all my acquaintances are not heroes, for I am sorry to say that +my old friend Downy has served his term of penal servitude, and is at +liberty once more to beg or steal. He is not ashamed to beg, but I know +that he prefers stealing, for he richly enjoys anything obtained "on the +cross," and cares little for the fruits of honest labour. + +Downy therefore never crosses my doorstep, and when I hold communication +with him he stands on the doorstep where I bar his entrance. + +Yet I like the vagabond, for he is a humorous rascal, and though I know +that I ought to be severe with him, I fail dismally when I try to exhort +him. "Now, look here, old man," he will say, "stop preaching; what are +you going to do to help a fellow; do you think I live this life for fun" +and his eyes twinkle! When I tell him that I am sure of it, he roars. +Yes, I am certain of it, Downy is a thief for the fun of it; he is the +worst and cleverest sneak I have the privilege of knowing; and yet +there is such audacity about him and his actions that even his most +reprehensible deeds do not disgust me. + +He is of the spare and lean kind, but were he fatter he might well pose +as a modern Jack Falstaff, for his one idea is summed up in Falstaff's +words: "Where shall we take a purse to-night?" Downy, of course, +obtained full remission of his sentence; he did all that was required +of him in prison, and so reduced his five years' sentence by fifteen +months. But I feel certain that he did nor spend three years and nine +months in a convict establishment without robbing a good many, and the +more difficult he found the task, the more he would enjoy it. + +I expect his education is now complete, so I have to beware of Downy, +for he would glory in the very thought of "besting" me, so I laugh and +joke with the rascal, but keep him at arm's length. We discuss matters +on the doorstep; if he looks ill I have pity on him, and subsidise him. +Sometimes his merry look changes to a half-pathetic look, and he goes +away to his "doss house," realising that after all his "besting" he +might have done better. + +Some of my friends have crossed the river, but as I think of them they +come back and bid me tell their stories. Here is my old friend the +famous chess-player, whose books are the poetry of chess, but whose life +was more than a tragedy. I need not say where I met him; his face was +bruised and swollen, his jawbone was fractured, he was in trouble, so we +became friends. He was a strange fellow, and though he visited my house +many times, he would neither eat nor drink with us. He wore no overcoat +even in the most bitter weather, he carried no umbrella, neither would +he walk under one, though the rains descended and the floods came! + +He was a fatalist pure and simple, and took whatever came to him in a +thoroughly fatalist spirit. "My dear Holmes," he would say, "why do you +break your heart about me? Let me alone, let us be friends; you are what +you are because you can't help it; you can't be anything else even if +you tried. I am what I am for the same reason. You get your happiness, I +get mine. Do me a good turn when you can, but don't reason with me; let +us enjoy each other's company and take things as they are." + +I took him on his own terms; I saw much of him, and when he was in +difficulties I helped him out. + +For a time I became his keeper, and when he had chess engagements to +fulfil I used to deliver him carriage paid to his destination wherever +it might be. He always and most punctiliously repaid any monetary +obligation I had conferred upon him, for in that respect I found him the +soul of honour, poor though he was! As I think of him I see him dancing +and yelling in the street, surrounded by a crowd of admiring East +Enders, I see him bruised and torn hurried off to the police station, +I see him standing before the magistrate awaiting judgment. What +compensation dipsomania gave him I know not, but that he did get some +kind of wild joy I am quite sure. For I see him feverish from one +debauch, but equally feverish with the expectation of another. + +With his wife it was another story, and I can see her now full of +anxiety and dread, with no relief and no hope, except, dreadful as it +may seem, his death! For then, to use her own expression, "she would +know the worst." Poor fellow! the last time I saw him he was nearing the +end. In an underground room I sat by his bedside, and a poor bed it was! + +As he lay propped up by pillows he was working away at his beloved +chess, writing chess notes, and solving and explaining problems for very +miserable payments. + +I knew the poverty of that underground room; and was made acquainted +with the intense disappointment of both husband and wife when letters +were received that did not contain the much-desired postal orders. And +so passed a genius; but a dipsomaniac! A man of brilliant parts and a +fellow of infinite jest, who never did justice to his great powers, but +who crowded a continuous succession of tragedies into a short life. I am +glad to think that I did my best for him, even though I failed. He has +gone! but he still has a place in my affections and occupies a niche in +the hall of my memory. + +I very much doubt whether I am able to forget any one of the pieces of +broken humanity that have companied with me. I do not want to forget +them, for truth to tell they have been more interesting to me than +merely respectable people, and infinitely more interesting than some +good people. + +But I am afraid that my tastes are bad, and my ideals low, for I am +always happier among the very poor or the outcasts than I am with the +decent and well behaved. + +A fellow named Reid has been calling on me repeatedly; an Australian +by birth, he outraged the law so often that he got a succession of +sentences, some of them being lengthy. He tried South Africa with a like +result; South Africa soon had enough of him, and after two sentences he +was deported to England, where he looked me up. + +He carries with him in a nice little case a certified and attested copy +of all his convictions, more than twenty in number. He produces +this without the least shame, almost with pride, and with the utmost +confidence that it would prove a ready passport to my affection. + +I talk to him; he tells me of his life, of Australia and South Africa; +he almost hypnotises me, for he knows so much. We get on well together +till he produces the "attested copy," and then the spell is broken, and +the humour of it is too much for me, so I laugh. + +He declares that he wants work, honest work, and he considers that his +"certificate" vouches for his bona fides. This is undoubtedly true, but +nevertheless I expect that it will be chiefly responsible for his free +passage back to Australia after he has sampled the quality of English +prisons. + +My friends and acquaintances meet me or rather I meet them, in +undesirable places; I never visit a prison without coming across one or +more of them, and they embarrass me greatly. + +A few Sundays ago I was addressing a large congregation of men in a +London prison. As I stood before them I was dismayed to see right in +the front rank an old and persistent acquaintance whom I thoroughly and +absolutely disliked, and he knew it, for on more than one occasion I +had good reason for expressing a decided opinion about him. A smile of +gleeful but somewhat mischievous satisfaction spread over his face; he +folded his arms across his breast, he looked up at me and quite held me +with his glittering eye. + +I realised his presence, I felt that his eye was upon me, I saw that he +followed every word. He quite unnerved me till I stumbled and tripped. +Then he smiled in his evil way. + +I could not get rid of his eyes, and sometimes I half appealed to him +with a pitiful look to take them off me. But it was no use, he still +gazed at me and through me. So thinking of him and looking at him I grew +more and more confused. + +The clock fingers would not move fast enough for me. I had elected to +speak on sympathy, brotherhood and mutual help. And this fellow to whom +I had refused help again and again knew my feelings, and made the most +of his opportunity. + +But my friend will come and see me when he is once more out of prison. +He will want to discuss my address of that particular Sunday afternoon. +He will quote my words, he will remind me about sympathy and mutual +help, he will hope to leave me rejoicing in the possession of a few +shillings. + +But that will be the hour of my triumph; for then I will rejoice in the +contemplation of his disappointment as my door closes upon him. But if I +understand him aright his personal failure will not lead him to despair, +for he will appear again and again and sometimes by deputy, and he will +put others as cunning as himself on my track. + +Some time ago I was tormented with a succession of visitors of this +description; my door was hardly free of one when another appeared. They +all told the same tale: "they had been advised to come to me, for I was +kind to men who had been in prison." + +They got no practical kindness from me, but rather some wholesome +advice. I found afterwards from a lodging-house habitue that this man +had been taking his revenge by distributing written copies of my name +and address to all the lodging-house inmates, and advising them to call +on me. And I have not the slightest doubt that the rascal watched +them come to my door, enjoyed their disappointment, and gloried in my +irritation. + +Yes, I have made the acquaintance of many undesirable fellows, and our +introduction to each other has sometimes been brought about in a very +strange manner. Sometimes they have forced themselves upon me and +insisted upon my seeing much of them, and "knowing all about them" they +would tell me of their struggles and endeavours to "go straight" and +would put their difficulties and hopes before me. Specious clever +rascals many of them were, far too clever for me, as I sometimes found +out to my cost. One young fellow who has served a well-earned and richly +merited sentence of five years' penal servitude, quite overpowered me +with his good intentions and professions of rectitude. "No more prison +for me," he would say; he brought his wife and children to see me, +feeling sure that they would form a passport to my sympathy and pocket. + +He was not far wrong, for I substantially and regularly helped the wife. +I had strong misgivings about the fellow, consequently what help I gave +I took care went direct to his wife. + +Sometimes he would call at my office, and with tears would thank me +for the help given to his wife and children. I noticed a continual +improvement in his clothing and appearance till he became quite a +swell. I felt a bit uneasy, for I knew that he was not at work. I soon +discovered, or rather the police discovered that he had stolen a lot of +my office note-paper of which he had made free use, and when arrested on +another charge several blank cheques which had been abstracted from my +cheque book were found upon him. He had made himself so well known to +and familiar with the caretaker of the chambers, that one night when +he appeared with a bag of tools to put "Mr. Holmes' desk right," no +questions were asked, and he coolly and quite deliberately, with the +office door open, operated in his own sweet way. Fortunately, when +trying the dodge in another set of chambers, he was arrested in the act, +and my blank cheques among many others were found upon him. + +Another term of penal servitude has stopped his career and put an end +to, I will not say a friendship but an acquaintance, that I am not at +any rate anxious to renew. + +They come a long way to see me do some of my friends, and put themselves +to some trouble in the matter, and not a little expense if they are to +be believed. Why they do so I cannot imagine, for sometimes after a long +and close questioning I fail to find any satisfactory reason for their +doing so. I have listened to many strange stories, and have received not +a few startling confessions! Some of my friends have gone comforted +away when they had made a clean breast and circumstantially given me +the details of some great crime or evil that they had committed. I never +experienced any difficulty, or felt the least compunction in granting +them plenary absolution; I never betrayed them to the police, for I knew +that of the crime confessed they were as guiltless as myself. Of course +there is a good deal of pathos about their actions, but I always felt a +glow of pleasure when I could send poor deluded people away comforted; +and I am sure that they really believed me when I told them that under +no circumstances would I betray their confidence, or acquaint the police +without first consulting them. I never had any difficulty in keeping my +promise, though sometimes my friends would, after a long absence, remind +me of it. + +But occasionally one of my friends has compelled me to seek the advice +of an astute detective, for very clever rogues, real and dangerous +criminals, have been my companions and have boasted of my friendship, +whilst pursuing a deplorably criminal course. But I never had the +slightest compunction with regard to them when I knew beyond doubt what +they were at. Friends and associates of criminals have more than once +waited on me for the purpose of enlisting my sympathy and help for one +of their colleagues who was about to be released from prison, and the +vagabonds have actually informed detectives that "Mr. Holmes was going +to take him in hand." What they really meant was, that they had taken +Mr. Holmes in hand for the purpose of lulling the just suspicions of the +police. One day not long ago a woman, expensively dressed and possessed +of a whole mass of flaxen hair, burst into my office. She was very +excited, spoke good English with an altogether exaggerated French +accent, and her action was altogether grotesque and stereotyped. She +informed me that she had that morning come from Paris to consult me. +When I inquired what she knew about me and how she got my address, she +said that a well-known journalist and a member of Parliament whom she +had met in Paris had advised her to consult with me about the future of +a man shortly to be discharged from prison. As during the whole of my +life I had not met or corresponded with the brilliant gentleman she +referred to, I felt doubtful, but kept silent. So on she went with her +story, first, however, offering me a sum of money for the benefit of as +consummate a villain as ever inhabited a prison cell. + +I declined the money and refused to have anything to do with the matter +till I had had further information. Briefly her story was as follows: +The man in whom she and others were interested was serving a term of +three years for burglary. He was an educated man, married, and father +of two children. His wife loved him dearly, and his two children were +"pretty, oh, so pretty!" They were afraid that his wife would receive +him back again with open arms, and that other children might result. +They were anxious that this should be prevented, for they felt, she +was sorry to say, that he might again revert to crime, that other +imprisonments might ensue, and that "the poor, poor little thing," +meaning the wife, might be exposed to more and worse suffering than she +had already undergone. + +Would I receive a sum of money on his account and arrange for him to +leave England? They felt that to be the wisest course, for "he is so +clever, and can soon build up a home for her when he is away from his +companions." Of his ability I had subsequently plenty of proof, and I +have no reason to doubt her statement that he could soon "build up a +home." He could very quickly--and a luxurious home, too! + +The wife was not to be considered at all in the matter, but money would +be sent to me from time to time to help the "poor little thing and her +children!" I was interested, but I said to myself, "This is much too +good," and the ready journey from Paris rather staggered me. I put a few +simple questions, she pledged me to secrecy. I told her that I would ask +the prison authorities to send him to me on his discharge. + +"I so please, I now go back to Paris; I come again and I bring you +money," she said, as she shook her furs and took herself and her flaxen +hair to somewhere else than Paris, so I felt persuaded. + +Two days before the prisoner's discharge she burst in again, huffy head, +furs and gesticulation as before. "I come from Paris this morning, I +bring you money." I was not present, but I had previously warned my +assistant not to receive any money. The gay Parisian was informed that +no money could be received, but she promptly put two sovereigns on the +desk and disappeared---but not to Paris! + +He stood before me at last, a little fellow, smart looking, erect, +self-satisfied and self-reliant. I told him of the two sovereigns and +the fluffy hair, of the good intentions of his Parisian friend. I spoke +hopefully of a new life in a new country and of the future of his wife +and children; he never blanched. He was quite sure he knew no French +lady with fluffy hair; he had no friends, no accomplices; he wanted +work, honest work; he intended to make amends for the past; he "would +build up a home" for his wife and children. + +I saw much of him; we lunched together and we smoked together, and he +talked a good deal. His wife fell ill owing to very hard work, and I +befriended her. He accepted the two pounds and asked for more! He was +a citizen of the world, and spoke more than one language. Our +companionship continued for some months, and then my friend and myself +had to sever our connection. + +He was one of a gang of very clever thieves, who operated on a large +scale, and who for cool audacity and originality were, I think, almost +unequalled! + +They engaged expensive suites of rooms or flats, furnished them most +expensively on credit or the hire system, insured the goods against +burglary, promptly burgled themselves, sold the goods, realised the +insurance, and then vanished to repeat their proceedings elsewhere. + +So clever were they at the business that costly but portable goods were +freely submitted to their tender mercies. They invariably engaged rooms +that possessed a "skylight." It was my friend's business to do the +burgling, and this he did by carefully removing the glass from the +skylight, being careful not to break it; needless to say, he removed +the glass from the inside and carefully deposited it on the roof, the +valuables making their exit through the room door and down the staircase +in broad daylight. + +My friend, who spoke Dutch fluently and accurately, has, I understood, +sold to English merchants whose probity was beyond dispute the proceeds +of some of his "firm's" operations. This game went on for a time, the +Parisian lady with the false hair being one of the confederates. He +disappeared, however, and I am glad to think that for some considerable +time society will be safeguarded from the woman with the flaxen hair, +and the operations of a clever scoundrel. + +I am glad to say that the number of my friends and acquaintances who +have seriously tried to "best" me form but a small proportion of +the whole. Generally they have, I believe, been animated with good +intentions, though the failure to carry them out has frequently been +manifest and deplorable. + +I am persuaded that weakness is more disastrous to the world than +absolute wickedness, for nothing in the whole of my life's experience +has taken more out of me, and given me so much heartbreaking +disappointment as my continued efforts on behalf of really +well-intentioned individuals, who could not stand alone owing to their +lack of grit and moral backbone. For redemptive purposes I would rather, +a hundred times rather, have to deal with a big sinner than with a human +jellyfish, a flabby man who does no great wrong, but on the other hand +does not the slightest good. + +But, as I have already said, though all my friends and acquaintances +were dwellers in a dark land, not all of them were "known to the +police"; indeed, many of them ought to be classified as "known to +the angels," for their real goodness has again and again rebuked and +inspired me. + +Oh the patience, fortitude and real heroism I have met with in my +acquaintances among the poor. Strength in time of trial, virtue amidst +obscenity, suffering long drawn out and perpetual self-denial are +characteristics that abound in many of my poorest friends, and in some +of the chapters that are to follow I shall tell more fully of them, but +just now I am amongst neither sinners nor saints, but with my friends +"in motley." I mean the men and women who have occupied so much of my +time and endeavours, but whose position I knew was hopeless. + +How they interested me, those demented friends of mine! they were a +perpetual wonder to me, and I am glad to remember that I never passed +hard judgment upon them, or gave them hard words. And I owe much to +them, a hundred times more than the whole of them are indebted to me; +for I found that I could not take an interest in any one of them, nor +make any fruitless, any perhaps foolish effort to truly help them, +without doing myself more good than I could possibly have done to them. +Fifteen years I stood by, and stood up for demented Jane Cakebread, and +we became inseparably connected. She abused me right royally, and her +power of invective was superb. When she was not in prison she haunted my +house and annoyed my neighbours. She patronised me most graciously when +she accepted a change of clothing from me; she lived in comparative +luxury when I provided lodgings for her; she slept out of doors when I +did not. + +She bestowed her affections on me and made me heir to her non-existent +fortune; she proposed marriage to me, although she frequently met and +admired my good wife. All this and more, year after year! + +Poor old Jane! I owe much to her, and I am quite willing, nay, anxious, +to say that in a great measure Jane Cakebread was the making of Thomas +Holmes. + +Years have passed since we laid Jane gently to rest, but she comes back +to me and dominates me whenever I mentally call my old friends together. +Her voice is the loudest, her speech the most voluble, and her manner +the most assertive of all my motley friends. They are all gathering +around me as I write. My friend who teaches music by colour is here, +my friend with his secret invention that will dispense with steam and +electricity is here too; "Little Ebbs" the would-be policeman is here +too; the prima donna whose life was more than a tragedy, the architect +with his wonderful but never accepted designs, the broken artist with +his pictures, the educated but non-sober lady who could convert plaster +models into marble statuary are all with me. The unspeakably degraded +parson smoking cigarettes, his absence of shirt hidden by a rusty +cassock, lolls in my easy-chair; my burglar friend who had "done" forty +years and was still asking for more, they are all around me! And my +dipsomaniac friends have come too! I hear them talking and arguing, when +a strident voice calls out, "No arguing! no arguing! argument spoils +everything!" and Jane stops the talk of others by occupying the platform +herself and recites a chapter from the book of Job. I am living it all +over again! + +And now troop in my suffering friends. Here is the paralysed woman of +thirty-five who has for twenty years lain in bed the whiles her sister +has worked incessantly to maintain her! Here is my widow friend who +after working fifteen hours daily for years was dragged from the Lea. As +she sits and listens her hands are making matchboxes and throwing them +over her shoulder, one, two, three, four! right, left! they go to the +imaginary heaps upon the imaginary beds. While blighted children are +crawling upon the floor looking up at me with big eyes. Here is my +patient old friend who makes "white flowers" although she is eighty +years of age, and still keeps at it, though, thank God, she gets the +old-age pension. + +Now come in the young men and maidens, the blighted blossoms of humanity +who wither and die before the time of fruition, for that fell disease +consumption has laid its deadly hand upon them. + +Oh! the mystery of it all, the sorrow and madness of it all! I open my +door and they file out. Some back to the unseen world, some back to the +lower depths of this world! Surely they are a motley lot, are my friends +and acquaintances; they are as varied as humanity itself. So they +represent to me all the moods and tenses of humanity, all its personal, +social and industrial problems. I have a pitiful heart; I try to keep a +philosophic mind; I am cheery with them; I am doubtful, I am hopeful! + +I never give help feeling sure that I have done wisely, I never refuse +the worst and feel sure that I have done well. I live near the heart of +humanity, I count its heart-beats, I hear its throbs. + +I realise some of the difficulties that beset us, I see some of the +heights and depths to which humanity can ascend or descend. I have +learned that the greatest factors in life are kindly sympathy, brotherly +love, a willingness to believe the best of the worst, and to have an +infinite faith in the ultimate triumph of good! + + + +CHAPTER II. LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + +London's great underworld to many may be an undiscovered country. To +me it is almost as familiar as my own fireside; twenty-five years of +my life have been spent amongst its inhabitants, and their lives and +circumstances have been my deep concern. + +Sad and weary many of those years have been, but always full of +absorbing interest. Yet I have found much that gave me pleasure, and it +is no exaggeration when I say that some of my happiest hours have been +spent among the poorest inhabitants of the great underworld. + +But whether happy or sorrowful, I was always interested, for the +strange contrasts and the ever-varying characteristics and lives of the +inhabitants always compelled attention, interest and thought. There is +much in this underworld to terrorise, but there is also much to inspire. + +Horrible speech and strange tongues are heard in it, accents of sorrow +and bursts of angry sound prevail in it. + +Drunkenness, debauchery, crime and ignorance are never absent; and in it +men and women grown old in sin and crime spend their last evil days. +The whining voice of the professional mendicant is ever heard in its +streets, for its poverty-stricken inhabitants readily respond to every +appeal for help. + +So it is full of contrasts; for everlasting toil goes on, and the hum +of industry ever resounds. Magnificent self-reliance is continually +exhibited, and self-denial of no mean order is the rule. + +The prattle of little children and the voice of maternal love make +sweet music in its doleful streets, and glorious devotion dignifies and +illumines the poorest homes. + +But out of the purlieus of this netherworld strange beings issue when +the shades of evening fall. + +Men whose hands are against every man come forth to deeds of crime, like +beasts to seek their prey! Women, fearsome creatures, whose steps lead +down to hell, to seek their male companions. + +Let us stand and watch! + +Here comes a poor, smitten, wretched old man; see how he hugs the rags +of his respectability; his old frayed frock-coat is buttoned tightly +around him, and his outstretched hands tell that he is eager for the +least boon that pity can bestow. He has found that the way of the +transgressor is hard; he has kissed the bloom of pleasure's painted +lips, he has found them pale as death! + +But others follow, and hurry by. And a motley lot they are; figure and +speech, complexion and dress all combine to create dismay; but they have +all one common characteristic. They want money! and are not particular +about the means of getting it. Now issue forth an innumerable band +who during the day have been sleeping off the effects of last night's +debauch. With eager steps, droughty throats and keen desire they seek +the wine cup yet again. + +Now come fellows, young and middle-aged, who dare not be seen by day, +for whom the police hold "warrants," for they have absconded from wives +and children, leaving them chargeable to the parish. + +Here are men who have robbed their employers, here young people of both +sexes who have drained Circe's cup and broken their parents' hearts. + +Surely it is a strange and heterogeneous procession that issues evening +by evening from the caves and dens of London's underworld. But notice +there is also a returning procession! For as the sun sinks to rest, +sad-faced men seek some cover where they may lie down and rest their +weary bones; where perchance they may sleep and regain some degree of +passive courage that will enable them, at the first streak of morning +light, to rise and begin again a disheartening round of tramp, tramp, +searching for work that is everlastingly denied them. Hungry and +footsore, their souls fainting within them, they seek the homes +where wives and children await their return with patient but hopeless +resignation. + +Take notice if you will of the places they enter, for surely the +beautiful word "home" is desecrated if applied to most of their +habitations. Horrid places within and without, back to back and face to +face they stand. + +At their doorway death stands ready to strike. In the murky light +of little rooms filled with thick air child-life has struggled into +existence; up and down their narrow stairs patient endurance and passive +hopelessness ever pass and repass. + +Small wonder that the filthy waters of a neighbouring canal woo and +receive so many broken hearts and emaciated bodies. + +But the procession now changes its sex, for weary widowed women are +returning to children who for many hours have been lacking a mother's +care, for mothers in the underworld must work if children must eat. + +So the weary widows have been at the wash-tubs all day long, and are +coming home with two shillings hardly earned. They call in at the dirty +general shop, where margarine, cheese, bread, tinned meat and firewood +are closely commingled in the dank air. + +A loaf, a pennyworth of margarine, a pennyworth of tea, a bundle of +firewood, half a pound of sugar, a pint of lamp-oil exhaust their list +of purchases, for the major part of their earnings is required for the +rent. + +So they climb their stairs, they feed the children, put them unwashed to +bed, do some necessary household work, and then settle down themselves +in some shape, without change of attire, that they may rest and be ready +for the duties of the ensuing day. Perhaps sweet oblivion will come even +to them. "Blessings on the man who invented sleep," cried Sancho Panza, +and there is a world of truth in his ecstatic exclamation, "it wraps him +round like a garment." + +Aye, that it does, for what would the poor weary women and men of +London's underworld do without it? What would the sick and suffering be +without it? In tiny rooms where darkness is made visible by penny-worths +of oil burned in cheap and nasty lamps, there is no lack of pain and +suffering, and no lack of patient endurance and passive heroism. + +As night closes in and semi-darkness reigns around, when the streets are +comparatively silent, when children's voices are no longer heard, come +with me and explore! + +It is one o'clock a.m., and we go down six steps into what is +facetiously termed a "breakfast parlour"; here we find a man and woman +about sixty years of age. The woman is seated at a small table on which +stands a small, evil-smelling lamp, and the man is seated at another +small table, but gets no assistance from the lamp; he works in +comparative gloom, for he is almost blind; he works by touch. + +For fifty years they have been makers of artificial flowers; both are +clever artists, and the shops of the West End have fairly blazed with +the glory of their roses. Winsome lassie's and serene ladies have made +themselves gay with their flowers. + +There they sit, as they have sat together for thirty years. Neither can +read or write, but what can be done in flowers they can do. Long hours +and dark rooms have made the man almost blind. + +He suffers also from heart disease and dropsy. He cannot do much, but he +can sit, and sit, while his wife works and works, for in the underworld +married women must work if dying husbands are to be cared for. + +So for fifteen hours daily and nightly they sit at their roses! Then +they lie down on the bed we see in the corner, but sleep does not come, +for asthma troubles him, and he must be attended and nursed. + +Shall we pay another visit to that underworld room? Come, then. Two +months have passed away, the evil-smelling lamp is still burning, the +woman still sits at the table, but no rose-leaves are before her; she +is making black tulips. On the bed lies a still form with limbs decently +smoothed and composed; the poor blind eyes are closed for ever. He is +awaiting the day of burial, and day after day the partner of his life +and death is sitting, and working, for in this underworld bereaved wives +must work if husbands are to be decently buried. The black tulips she +will wear as mourning for him; she will accompany his poor body to the +cemetery, and then return to live alone and to finish her work alone. + +But let us continue our midnight explorations, heedless of the men and +women now returning from their nightly prowl who jostle us as they pass. + +We enter another room where the air is thick and makes us sick and +faint. We stand at the entrance and look around; we see again the +evil-smelling lamp, and again a woman at work at a small table, and she +too is a widow! + +She is making cardboard boxes, and pretty things they are. Two beds are +in the room, and one contains three, and the other two children. On the +beds lie scores of dainty boxes. The outside parts lie on one bed, and +the insides on the other. They are drying while the children sleep; by +and by they will be put together, tied in dozens, and next morning taken +to the factory. But of their future history we dare not inquire. + +The widow speaks to us, but her hands never rest; we notice the celerity +of her movements, the dreadful automatic certainty of her touch is +almost maddening; we wait and watch, but all in vain, for some false +movement that shall tell us she is a human and not a machine. But no, +over her shoulder to the bed on the left side, or over her shoulder to +the bed on her right side, the boxes fly, and minute by minute and hour +by hour the boxes will continue to grow till her task is completed. Then +she will put them together, tie them in dozens, and lay herself down on +that bed that contains the two children. + +Need we continue? I think not, but it may give wings to imagination when +I say that in London's underworld there are at least 50,000 women whose +earnings do not exceed three halfpence per hour, and who live under +conditions similar to those described. Working, working, day and night, +when they have work to do, practically starving when work is scarce. + +The people of the underworld are not squeamish, they talk freely, and as +a matter of course about life and death. Their children are at an early +age made acquainted with both mysteries; a dead child and one newly born +sometimes occupy a room with other children. + +People tell me of the idleness of the underworld and there is plenty of +it; but what astonishes me is the wonderful, the persistent, but almost +unrewarded toil that is unceasingly going on, in which even infants +share. + +Come again with me in the day-time, climb with me six dark and greasy +flights of stairs, for the underworld folk are sometimes located near +the sky. + +In this Bastille the passages are very narrow, and our shoulders +sometimes rub the slimy moisture from the walls. On every landing in the +semi-darkness we perceive galleries running to right and to left. On the +little balconies, one on every floor, children born in this Bastille are +gasping for air through iron bars. + +There are three hundred suites of box rooms in this Bastille, which +means that three hundred families live like ants in it. Let us enter No. +250. Time: 3.30 p.m. Here lives a blind matchbox-maker and his wife with +their seven children. The father has gone to take seven gross of boxes +to the factory, for the mother cannot easily climb up and down the stone +stairs of the Bastille. So she sits everlastingly at the boxes, the beds +are covered with them, the floor is covered with them, and the air is +thick with unpleasant moisture. + +One, two, three, four, there they go over her shoulder to the bed or +floor; on the other side of the table sits a child of four, who, with +all the apathy of an adult if not with equal celerity, gums or pastes +the labels for his mother. The work must be "got in," and the child has +been kept at home to take his share in the family toil. + +In this Bastille the children of the underworld live and die, for death +reaps here his richest harvest. Never mind! the funeral of one child +is only a pageant for others. Here women work and starve, and here +childhood, glorious childhood, is withered and stricken; but here, too, +the wicked, the vile, the outcast and the thief find sanctuary. + +The strange mixture of it all bewilders me, fascinates me, horrifies +me, and yet sometimes it encourages me and almost inspires me. For I see +that suffering humanity possesses in no mean degree those three great +qualities, patience, fortitude and endurance. + +For perchance these three qualities will feel and grope for a brighter +life and bring about a better day. + +Though in all conscience funerals are numerous enough in this bit of +the underworld, and though the conditions are bad enough to destroy +its inhabitants, yet the people live on and on, for even death itself +sometimes seems reluctant to befriend them. + +Surely there is nothing in the underworld so extraordinary as the +defiance flung in the face of death by its poor, feeble, ill-nourished, +suffering humanity. + +According to every well-known rule they ought to die, and not to +linger upon the order of their dying. But linger they do, and in their +lingering exhibit qualities which ought to regenerate the whole race. It +is wonderful upon what a small amount of nourishment humanity can exist, +and still more wonderful under what conditions it can survive. + +Shall we look in at a house that I know only too well? Come again, then! + +Here sits an aged widow of sixty-four at work on infants' shoes, a +daughter about twenty-six is at work on infants' socks. Another daughter +two years older is lying on her back in an invalid's chair, and her deft +fingers are busily working, for although paralysis has taken legs, the +upper part of her body has been spared. The three live together and pool +their earnings; they occupy two very small rooms, for which they pay +five shillings weekly. + +After paying twopence each to avoid parish funerals, they have five +shillings left weekly for food, firing, clothing and charity. Question +them, and you will learn how they expend those five shillings. "How much +butter do you allow yourselves during the week?" The widow answers: "Two +ounces of shilling butter once a week." "Yes, mother," says the invalid, +"on a Saturday." She knew the day of the week and the hour too, when her +eyes brightened at the sight of three-halfpenny worth of butter. +Truly they fared sumptuously on the Sabbath, for they tasted "shilling +butter." + +But they refuse to die, and I have not yet discovered the point at +which life ebbs out for lack of food, for when underworld folk die +of starvation we are comforted by the assurance that they died "from +natural causes." + +I suppose that if the four children all over eight years of age, +belonging to a widow machinist well known to me, had died, their death +would have been attributed to "natural causes." She had dined them upon +one pennyworth of stewed tapioca without either sugar or milk. Sometimes +the children had returned to school without even that insult to their +craving stomachs. But "natural causes" is the euphonious name given +by intelligent juries to starvation, when inquests are held in the +underworld. Herein is a mystery: in the land of plenty, whose granaries, +depots, warehouses are full to repletion, and whose countless ships are +traversing every ocean, bringing the food and fruits of the earth to its +shores, starvation is held to be a natural cause of death. + +Here let me say, and at once, that the two widows referred to are +but specimens of a very large company, and that from among my own +acquaintances I can with a very short notice assemble one thousand women +whose lives are as pitiful, whose food is as limited, whose burdens are +as heavy, but whose hearts are as brave as those I have mentioned. + +The more I know of these women and their circumstances, the more and +still more I am amazed. How they manage to live at all is a puzzle, but +they do live, and hang on to life like grim death itself. I believe I +should long for death were I placed under similar conditions to those my +underworld friends sustain without much complaining. + +They have, of course, some interests in life, especially when the +children are young, but for themselves they are largely content to be, +to do, and to suffer. + +Very simple and very limited are their ambitions; they are expressed in +the wish that their children may rise somehow or other from the world +below to the world above, where food is more plentiful and labour more +remunerative. But my admiration and love for the honest workers below +the line are leading me to forget the inhabitants that are far removed +from honesty, and to whom industry is a meaningless word. + +There are many of them, and a mixed lot they are. The deformed, the +crippled and the half-witted abound. Rogues and rascals, brutes in human +form, and human forms that are harking back to the brute abound also. +With some we may sound the lowest depths, with others we may ascend +to glorious heights. This is the wonder of underworld. Some of its +inhabitants have come down, and are going lower still. Others are +struggling with slippery feet to ascend the inclined plane that leads to +the world above. Some in their misery are feebly hoping for a hand that +will restore them to the world they have for ever lost! + +And there are others who find their joy in this netherworld! For here +every restraint may be abandoned and every decency may be outraged. Here +are men and women whose presence casts a blight upon everything fresh +and virtuous that comes near them. + +Here the children grow old before their time, for like little cubs they +lie huddled upon each other when the time for sleep comes. Not for them +the pretty cot, the sweet pillow and clean sheets! but the small close +room, the bed or nest on the floor, the dirty walls and the thick +air. Born into it, breathing it as soon as their little lungs begin to +operate, thick, dirty air dominates their existence or terminates their +lives. + +"Glorious childhood" has no place here, to sweet girlhood it is fatal, +and brave boyhood stands but little chance. + +Though here and there one and another rise superior to environment +and conditions, the great mass are robbed of the full stature of their +bodies, of their health, their brain power and their moral life. + +But their loss is not the nation's gain, for the nation loses too! For +the nation erects huge buildings falsely called workhouses, tremendous +institutions called prisons. Asylums in ever-increasing numbers are +required to restrain their feeble bodies, and still feebler minds! + +Let us look at the contrasts! Their houses are so miserably supplied +with household goods that even a rash and optimistic man would hesitate +before offering a sovereign for an entire home, yet pawnshops flourish +exceedingly, although the people possess nothing worth pawning. Children +are half fed, for the earnings of parents are too meagre to allow a +sufficient quantity of nourishing food; but public-houses do a roaring +trade on the ready-money principle, while the chandler supplies scraps +of food and half-ounces of tea on very long credit. + +Money, too, is scarce, very scarce, yet harpies grow rich by lending +the inhabitants small sums from a shilling up to a pound at a rate of +interest that would stagger and paralyse the commercial world. Doctors +must needs to content with a miserable remuneration for their skilled +and devoted services, when paid at all! but burial societies accumulate +millions from a weekly collection of ill-spared coppers. Strangest of +all, undertakers thrive exceedingly, but the butcher and baker find it +hard work to live. + +Yes, the underworld of London is full of strange anomalies and queer +contradictions. When I survey it I become a victim to strange and +conflicting emotions. + +Sometimes I am disgusted with the dirt and helplessness of the people. +Sometimes I burn with indignation at their wrongs. But when I enter +their houses I feel that I would like to be an incendiary on a wholesale +scale. Look again! I found the boot-machinist widow that I have +mentioned, in Bethnal Green; she was ill in bed, lying in a small room; +ill though she was, and miniature as the room was, two girls aged twelve +and fourteen slept with her and shared her bed, while a youth and a boy +slept in a coal-hole beneath the stairs. Nourishment and rest somewhat +restored the woman, and to give her and the children a chance I took for +them a larger house. I sent them bedding and furniture, the house being +repaired and repainted, for the previous tenant had allowed it to take +fire, but the fire had not been successful enough! I called on the +family at midday, and as I stood in the room, bugs dropped from the +ceiling upon me. The widow's work was covered with them; night and day +the pests worried the family, there was no escaping them; I had to +fly, and again remove the family. How can the poor be clean and +self-respecting under such conditions! + +For be it known this is the normal condition of thousands of human +habitations in London's great underworld. How can cleanliness and +self-respect survive? Yet sometimes they do survive, but at a terrible +cost, for more and still more of the weekly income must go in rent, +which means less and still less for food and clothing. Sometimes the +grossness and impurity, the ignorance and downright wickedness of the +underworld appal and frighten me. + +But over this I must draw a veil, for I dare not give particulars; I +think, and think, and ask myself again and again what is to be the end +of it all! Are we to have two distinct races! those below and those +above? Is Wells' prophecy to come true; will the one race become +uncanny, loathsome abortions with clammy touch and eyes that cannot face +the light? Will the other become pretty human butterflies? I hope not, +nay, I am sure that Wells is wrong! For there is too much real goodness +in the upper world and too much heroism and endurance in the underworld +to permit such an evolution to come about. + +But it is high time that such a possibility was seriously considered. +It is high time, too, that the lives and necessities, the wrongs and the +rights of even the gross poor in the underworld were considered. + +For the whole social and industrial system is against them. Though many +of them are parasites, preying upon society or upon each other, yet +even they become themselves the prey of other parasites, who drain their +blood night and day. + +So I ask in all seriousness, is it not high time that the exploitation +of the poor, because they are poor, should cease. See how it operates: +a decent married woman loses her husband; his death leaves her dependent +upon her own labour. She has children who hitherto have been provided +with home life, food and clothing; in fact the family had lived a little +above the poverty line, though not far removed from it. + +She had lived in the upper world, but because her husband dies, she +is precipitated into the lower world, to seek a new home and some +occupation whereby she and her children may live. + +Because she is a widow, and poor and helpless, she becomes the prey +of the sweater. Henceforth she must work interminable hours for a +starvation wage. Because she is a mother, poor and helpless, she becomes +the prey of the house farmer. Henceforward half her earnings must go in +rent, though her house and its concomitants are detestable beyond words. + +But though she is poor, her children must be fed, and though she is a +widowed mother, she, even she, must eat sometimes. Henceforward she must +buy food of a poor quality, in minute quantities, of doubtful weight, at +the highest price. She is afraid that death may enter her home and find +her unprepared for a funeral, so she pays one penny weekly for each of +her children and twopence for herself to some collection society. + +All through this procedure her very extremities provide opportunities +to others for spoliation, and so her continued life in the underworld is +assured. But her children are ill-nourished, ill-clothed, ill-lodged +and ill-bathed, and the gutter is their playground. They do not +develop properly in mind or body, when of age they are very poor assets +considered financially or industrially. They become permanent residents +of the underworld and produce after their kind. + +So the underworld is kept populated from many sources. Widows with their +children are promptly kicked into it, others descend into it by a +slow process of social and industrial gravitation. Some descend by +the downward path of moral delinquency, and some leap into it as if to +commit moral and social death. + +And surely 'tis a mad world! How can it be otherwise with all this +varied and perplexed humanity seething it, with all these social and +industrial wrongs operating upon it. But I see the dawn of a brighter +day! when helpless widow mothers will no longer be the spoil of the +sweater and the house "farmer." The dawn has broke! before these words +are printed thousands of toiling women in London's underworld will +rejoice! for the wages of cardboard box-makers will be doubled. The sun +is rising! for one by one all the terrible industries in which the +women of the underworld are engaged will of a certainty come within the +operations of a law that will stay the hand of the oppressors. And there +will be less toil for the widows and more food for the children in the +days that are to be. + +But before that day fully comes, let me implore the women of the upper +world to be just if not generous to the women below. Let me ask them +not to exact all their labours, nor to allow the extremities of +their sisters to be a reason for under-payment when useful service is +rendered. Again I say, and I say it with respect and sorrow, that many +women are thoughtless if not unjust in their business dealings with +other women. + +I am more concerned for the industrial and social rights of women than I +am for their political rights; votes they may have if you please. But +by all that is merciful let us give them justice! For the oppression of +women, whether by women or men, means a perpetuation of the underworld +with all its sorrows and horrors; and the under-payment of women has a +curse that smites us all the way round. + +And if a word of mine can reach the toiling sisters in the netherworld, +I would say to them: Be hopeful! Patient I know you to be! enduring you +certainly are! brave beyond expression I have found you. Now add to your +virtues, hope! + +For you have need of it, and you have cause for it. I rejoice that so +many of you are personally known to me! You and I, my sisters, have had +much communion, and many happy times together; for sometimes we have had +surcease from toil and a breath of God's fresh air together. + +Be hopeful! endure a little longer; for a new spirit walks this old +world to bless it, and to right your long-continued wrongs. + +Oh! how you have suffered, sisters mine! and while I have been writing +this chapter you have all been around me. But you are the salt of the +underworld; you are much better than the ten just men that were not +found in Sodom. And when for the underworld the day of redemption +arrives, it will be you, my sisters, the simple, the suffering, enduring +women that will have hastened it! + +So I dwell upon the good that is in the netherworld, in the sure and +certain hope, whether my feeble words and life help forward the time +or not, that the day is not far distant when the dead shall rise! When +justice, light and sweetness will prevail, and in prevailing will purify +the unexplored depths of the sad underworld. + +I offer no apology for inserting the following selections from London +County Council proceedings. Neither do I make any comment, other than +to say that the statements made present matters in a much too favourable +light. + +"LONDON'S CHILD SLAVES + +"OVERWORK AND BAD NUTRITION + +"Disclosures in L.C.C. Report. + +(From the Daily Press, December 1911) + +"The comments passed by members of the L.C.C. at the Education Committee +meeting upon the annual report of the medical officer of that committee +made it clear that many very interesting contents of the report had not +been made public. + +"The actual report, which we have now seen, contains much more that +deserves the serious attention of all who are interested in the problem +of the London school child. + +"There is, for example, a moving page on child life in a north-west +poverty area, where, among other conditions, it is not uncommon to find +girls of ten doing a hard day's work outside their school work; they are +the slaves of their mothers and grandmothers. + +"The great amount of anaemia and malnutrition among the children in this +area (says the report) is due to poverty, with its resultant evils of +dirt, ill-feeding and under-feeding, neglect and female labour. + +"Cheap food.--The necessity for buying cheap food results in the +purchasing of foodstuffs which are deficient in nutrient properties. The +main articles of diet are indifferent bread and butter, the fag ends +of coarse meat, the outside leaves of green vegetables, and tea, and +an occasional pennyworth of fried fish and potatoes. Children who are +supplied with milk at school, or who are given breakfast and dinner, +respond at once to the better feeding, and show distinct improvement in +their class work. The unemployment among the men obliges the women to +seek for work outside the home, and the under-payment of female labour +has its effect upon the nutrition of the family. + +"'Investigation in the senior departments of one school showed that 144 +children were being supported by their mothers only, 57 were living on +their sisters, 68 upon the joint earnings of elder brothers and +sisters, while another 130 had mothers who went out to work in order to +supplement the earnings of the father. + +"'Approximately one-third of the children in this neighbourhood are +supported by female labour. With the mother at work the children rapidly +become neglected, the boys get out of control, they play truant, they +learn to sleep out, and become known to the police while they are still +in the junior mixed department.' + +"The Girl Housewife.--The maintenance of the home, the cooking and +catering, is done by an elderly girl who sometimes may not be more than +ten years of age. The mother's earnings provide bread and tea for the +family and pay the rent, but leave nothing over for clothing or boots. + +"Many of the boys obtain employment out of school hours, for which they +are paid and for which they may receive food; others learn to hang about +the gasworks and similar places, and get scraps of food and halfpence +from the workmen. In consequence they may appear to be better nourished +than the girls 'who work beyond their strength at domestic work, +step cleaning, baby minding, or carrying laundry bundles and running +errands.' For this labour they receive no remuneration, since it is done +for the family. + +"A remarkable paragraph of the report roundly declares-- + +"'The provision generally at cost price of school meals for all who +choose to pay for them would be a national economy, which would do +much to improve the status of the feeding centres and the standard of +feeding. This principle is applied most successfully in schools of +a higher grade, and might well be considered in connection with the +ordinary elementary schools of the Council. Such a provision would +probably be of the greatest benefit to the respectable but very poor, +who are too proud to apply for charity meals, and whose children are +often penalised by want, and the various avoidable defects or ailments +that come in its train.' + +"Feeding wanted.--Of the children of a Bethnal Green school, the school +doctor is quoted as reporting that 'it was not hospital treatment but +feeding that was wanted.' + +"Among curious oddments of information contained in the report, it is +mentioned that the children of widows generally show superior physique. + +"The teeth are often better in children from the poorer homes, 'perhaps +from use on rougher food materials which leaves less DEBRIS to undergo +fermentation.' + +"'Children of poorer homes also often have the advantage of the fresh +air of the streets, whilst the better-off child is kept indoors and +becomes flabby and less resistant to minor ailments. The statistics of +infantile mortality suggest that the children of the poorer schools +have also gone through a more severe selection; disease weeding out by +natural selection, and the less fit having succumbed before school age, +the residue are of sturdier type than in schools or classes where such +selection has been less intense.'" + + + +CHAPTER III. THE NOMADS + +A considerable portion of the inhabitants of the world below the line +are wanderers, without home, property, work or any visible means of +existence. For twenty years it has been the fashion to speak of them +as the "submerged," and a notable philanthropist taught the public to +believe that they formed one-tenth of our population. + +It was currently reported in the Press that the philanthropist I have +referred to offered to take over and salve this mass of human wreckage +for the sum of one million pounds. His offer was liberally responded to; +whether he received the million or not does not matter, for he has at +any rate been able to call to his assistance thousands of men and women, +and to set them to work in his own peculiar way to save the "submerged." + +From a not unfriendly book just published, written by one who was for +more than twenty years intimately associated with him, and one of +the chief directors of his salvage work, we learn that the result has +largely been a failure. + +To some of us this failure had been apparent for many years, and though +we hoped much from the movement, we could not close our eyes to facts, +and reluctantly had to admit that the number of the "submerged" did not +appreciably lessen. + +True, shelters, depots, bridges, homes and labour homes were opened +with astonishing celerity. Wood was chopped and paper sorted in immense +quantities, but shipwrecked humanity passed over bridges that did +not lead to any promised land, and abject humanity ascended with the +elevators that promptly lowered them to depths on the other side. + +Stimulated by the apparent success or popularity of the Salvation Army, +the Church Army sprang into existence, and disputed with the former the +claim to public patronage, and the right to save! It adopted similar +means, it is certain with similar results, for the "submerged" are still +with us. + +I say that both these organisations pursued the same methods and worked +practically on the same lines, for both called into their service a +number of enthusiastic young persons, clothed them in uniforms, horribly +underpaid them, and set them to work to save humanity and solve social +and industrial problems, problems for which wiser and more experienced +people fail to find a solution. It would be interesting to discover what +has become of the tens of thousands of enthusiastic men and women who +have borne the uniform of these organisations for periods longer or +shorter, and who have disappeared from the ranks. + +How many of them are "submerged" I cannot say, but I know that some have +been perilously near it. + +I am persuaded that this is a dangerous procedure, very dangerous +procedure, and the subscribing public has some right to ask what has +become of all the "officers" who, drawn from useful work to these +organisations, have disappeared. + +But as a continual recruiting keeps up the strength, the subscribing +public does not care to ask, for the public is quite willing to part +with its vested interests in human wreckage. All this leads me to say +once more that the "submerged" are still with us. Do you doubt it? Then +come with me; let us take a midnight walk on the Thames Embankment; any +night will do, wet or dry, winter or summer! + +Big Ben is striking the hour as we commence our walk at Blackfriars; we +have with us a sack of food and a number of second-hand overcoats. The +night is cold, gusty and wet, and we think of our warm and comfortable +beds and almost relinquish our expedition. The lights on Blackfriars +Bridge reveal the murky waters beneath, and we see that the tide is +running out. + +We pass in succession huge buildings devoted to commerce, education, +religion and law; we pass beautiful gardens, and quickly we arrive at +the Temple. The lamps along the roadway give sufficient light for our +purpose, for they enable us to see that here and there on the seats and +in the recesses of the Embankment are strange beings of both sexes. + +Yonder are two men, unkempt and unshaven, their heads bent forward +and their hands thrust deep into their trousers pockets and, to all +appearance, asleep. + +Standing in a sheltered corner of the Temple Station we see several +other men, who are smoking short pipes which they replenish from time to +time with bits of cigars and cigarettes that they have gathered during +the day from the streets of London. + +I know something of the comedy and tragedy of cigar ends, for times and +again I have seen a race and almost a struggle for a "fat end" when some +thriving merchant has thrown one into the street or gutter. Suddenly +emerging from obscurity and showing unexpected activity, two half-naked +fellows have made for it; I have seen the satisfaction of the fellow who +secured it, and I have heard the curse of the disappointed; but there! +at any time, on any day, near the Bank, or the Mansion House, in +Threadneedle Street, or in Cheapside such sights may be seen by those +who have eyes to see. + +These two fellows have been successful, for they are assuaging the pangs +of hunger by smoking their odds and ends. They look at us as we pass to +continue our investigation. Here on a seat we find several men of motley +appearance; one is old and bent, his white beard covers his chest, he +has a massive head, he is a picturesque figure, and would stand well +for a representation of Old Father Thames, for the wet streams from his +hair, his beard and his ample moustache. Beside him sits a younger +man, weak and ill. His worn clothing tells us of better days, and we +instinctively realise that not much longer will he sit out the midnight +hours on the cold Embankment. + +Before we distribute our clothes and food, we continue our observation. +What strikes us most is the silence, for no one speaks to us, no hand is +held out for a gift, no requests are made for help. + +They look at us unconcernedly as we pass; they appear to bear their +privations with indifference or philosophy. Yonder is a woman leaning +over the parapet looking into the mud and water below; we speak to her, +and she turns about and faces us. Then we realise that Hood's poem +comes into our mind; we offer her a ticket for a "shelter," which she +declines; we offer her food, but she will have none of it; she asks us +to leave her, and we pass on. + +Here is a family group, father and mother with two children; their +attire and appearance tell us that they are tramps; the mother has a +babe close to her breast, and round it she has wrapt her old shawl; a +boy of five sits next to her, and the father is close up. + +The parents evidently have been bred in vagrancy, and the children, and, +unless the law intervenes, their children are destined to continue the +species. The whining voice of the woman and the outstretched hands of +the boy let us know that they are eager and ready for any gift that pity +can bestow. + +But we give nothing, and let me say that after years of experience, +I absolutely harden my heart and close my pocket against the tramping +beggar that exploits little children. And to those who drag children, +droning out hymns through our quiet streets on Sunday, my sympathies +extend to a horsewhip. + +We leave the tramps, and come upon a poor shivering wretch of about +thirty-five years; his face presents unmistakable signs of disease more +loathsome than leprosy; he is not fit to live, he is not fit to die; he +is an outcast from friends, kindred and home. He carries his desolation +with him, and the infirmary or the river will be the end of him. + +Here are two stalwart fellows, big enough and strong enough to do useful +work in the world. But they are fresh from prison, and will be back in +prison before long; they know us, for it is not the first time we have +made their acquaintance. + +They are by no means backward in speaking and telling us that they want +"just ten shillings to buy stock in Houndsditch which they can sell +in Cheapside." As we move away they beg insistently for "just a few +shillings; they don't want to get back to prison." + +Now we come to a youth of eighteen; he seems afraid, and looks at us +with suspicious eyes; what is he doing here? We are interested in him, +so young, yet alone on the Embankment. We open our bag and offer him +food, which he accepts and eats; as we watch him our pity increases: +he is thinly clad, and the night air is damp and cold; we select an old +coat, which he puts on. Then we question him, and he tells us that his +mother is dead, his father remarried; that his stepmother did not like +him, and in consequence his father turned him out; that he cannot get +work. And so on; a common story, no originality about it, and not much +truth! + +We suddenly put the question, "How long have you lived in +lodging-houses?" "About three years, sir." "What did you work at?" +"Selling papers in the streets." "Anything else?" "No, sir." "You had +not got any lodging money to-night.?" "No." "Ever been in prison?" +"Only twice." "What for?" "Gambling in the streets," and we leave him, +conscious that he is neither industrious, honest nor truthful. + +We come at length to Waterloo Bridge, and here in the corners and +recesses of the steps we find still more of the submerged, and a pitiful +lot they are. + +We look closely at them, and we see that some are getting back to +primeval life, and that some are little more than human vegetables. We +know that their chief requirements are food, sleep and open air; and +that given these their lives are ideal, to themselves! But we distribute +our food amongst them, we part with our last old coat, we give tickets +for free shelters, but we get no thanks, and we know well enough +that the shelter tickets will not be used, for it is much easier for +philosophic vagabondage to remain curled up where it is than to struggle +on to a shelter. + +So we leave them, and with a feeling of hopelessness hurry home to our +beds. + +But let us revisit the Embankment by day at 11 a.m. We take our stand +right close to Cleopatra's Needle; we see that numbers of wretched +people, male and female, are already there, and are forming themselves +into a queue three deep, the males taking the Westminster side of the +Needle, the females the City side. + +While this regiment of a very dolorous army is gathering together, +and forming silently and passively into the long queue, we look at the +ancient obelisk, and our mind is carried backward to the days of old, +when the old stone stood in the pride of its early life, and with its +clear-cut hieroglyphics spoke to the wonderful people who comprised the +great nation of antiquity. + +We almost appeal to it, and feel that we would like to question it, +as it stands pointing heavenwards beside our great river. Surely the +ancient stone has seen some strange sights, and heard strange sounds in +days gone by. + +Involuntarily we ask whether it has seen stranger sights, and heard more +doleful sounds than the sights to be seen under its shadow to-day, and +the sounds to be heard around it by night. Could it speak, doubtless +it would tell of the misery, suffering, slavery endured by the poor +in Egypt thousands of years ago. Maybe it would tell us that the great +empire of old had the same difficulties to face and the same problems to +solve that Great Britain is called upon to face and to solve to-day. + +For the poor cried for bread in the days of the Pharaohs, and they were +crowded into unclean places, but even then great and gorgeous palaces +were built. + +"Can you tell us, Ancient Stone, has there been an onward march of good +since that day? Are we much better, wiser, happier and stronger than the +dusky generations that have passed away?" But we get no response from +the ancient stone, as grim and silent it stands looking down upon us. So +we turn to the assembled crowd. See how it has grown whilst we have been +speculating. Silently, ceaselessly over the various bridges, or through +the various streets leading from the Strand they have come, and are +still coming. + +There is no firm footstep heard amongst them as they shufflingly take +their places. No eager expectation is seen on any face, but quietly, +indifferently, without crushing, elbowing, they join the tail-end of the +procession and stand silently waiting for the signal that tells them to +move. + +Let us walk up and down to count them, for it is nearly twelve o'clock, +and at twelve o'clock the slow march begins. So we count them by threes, +and find five hundred men to the right and one hundred women to the +left, all waiting, silently waiting! Stalwart policemen are there to +keep order, but their services are not required. + +In the distance the whirl of London's traffic raises its mighty voice; +nearer still, the passing tramcars thunder along, and the silence of the +waiting crowd is made more apparent by these contrasts. + +Big Ben booms the hour! it is twelve o'clock! and the slow march begins; +three by three they slowly approach the Needle, and each one is promptly +served with a small roll of bread and a cup of soup; as each one +receives the bread and soup he steps out of the ranks, promptly and +silently drinks his soup, and returns the cup. Rank follows rank till +every one is served, then silently and mysteriously the crowd melts +away and disappears. The police go to other duties, the soup barrows are +removed; the grim ancient stone stands once more alone. + +But a few hours later, even as Big Ben is booming six, the "Miserables" +will be again waiting, silently waiting for the rolls of bread and +the cups of soup, and having received them will again mysteriously +disappear, to go through the same routine at twelve o'clock on the +morrow. Aye! and to return on every morrow when soup and rolls are to be +had. + +It looks very pitiful, this mass of misery. It seems very comforting to +know that they are fed twice a day with rolls and soup, but after all +the matter wants looking at very carefully, and certain questions must +be asked. + +Who are these miserables? How comes it that they are so ready to receive +as a matter of course the doles of food provided for them? Are they +really helped, and is their position really improved by this kind of +charity? I venture to say no! I go farther, and I say very decidedly +that so long as the bulk of these people can get food twice a day, and +secure some kind of shelter at night, they will remain content to be +as they are. I will go still farther and say, that if this provision +becomes permanent the number of the miserables will increase, and the +Old Needle will continue to look down on an ever-growing volume of +poverty and wretchedness. + +For after receiving the soup and bread, these nomads disappear into the +streets and by-ways of London, there by hook or crook, by begging or +other means, to secure a few coppers, to pick up scraps of food, and to +return to the Embankment. + +I have walked up and down the Embankment, I have looked searchingly +at the people assembled. Some of them I have recognised as old +acquaintances; many of them, I know, have no desire to be other than +what they are. To eat, to sleep, to have no responsibility, to be free +to live an uncontrolled life, are their ambitions; they have no other. +Some of them are young men, only twenty years of age, who have seen +the inside of prison again and again. Some of them are older, who have +tramped the country in the summer time and have been drawn to London by +the attraction of an easy feeding in the winter. Search their ranks! and +you will find very little genuine, unfortunate, self-respecting poverty. +They are what they are, and unless other means are adopted they will, +remain what they are! + +And so they will eat the bread and drink the soup; they will come at +twelve o'clock noon; they will come at six o'clock in the evening. They +will sleep where they can, and to-morrow will be as to-day; and the next +day as to-morrow, unless some compulsion is applied to them. + +All this is very sad, but I venture to say it is true, and it seems to +be one of the evils almost inseparable from our present life. Probably +in every clime and every age such women and men have existed. The savage +lives in all of us, and the simple life has its attractions. To be free +of responsibility is, no doubt, a natural aspiration. But when I see how +easy it is for this class of people to obtain food, when I see how easy +it is for them to obtain shelter, when I see and know how thousands of +the poor are unceasingly at work in order to provide a modicum of food +and the semblance of a shelter, then it occurs to me, and I am sure it +will to any one who thinks seriously upon the matter, that these men and +women, who are harking back to the life of the idle savage, are treated +better in Christian England than the industrious, self-respecting but +unfortunate poor. But come with me to see another sight! It is again +afternoon, and we take our stand at 3.30 p.m. outside a shelter for +women which every night receives, for fourpence each, some hundreds of +submerged women. + +The doors will not be opened till six o'clock, so we are in time to +watch them as they arrive to take their places in the waiting queue. A +policeman is present to preserve order and keep the pavement clear; but +his service is not required, for the women are very orderly, and allow +plenty of room for passers-by. + +As the time for opening approaches, the number of waiting women +increases until there is a waiting silent crowd. No photograph could +give the slightest idea of their appearance, for dirt and misery are not +revealed by photography. + +Let us look at them, for the human eye sees most! What do we see? +Squalor, vice, misery, dementia, feeble minds and feeble bodies. Old +women on the verge of the grave eating scraps of food gathered from the +City dustbins. Dirty and repulsive food, dirty and repulsive women! who +have begged during the day enough coppers to pay for their lodging +by night. Girls of twenty, whose conduct in their homes has been +outrageous, and whose life in London must be left to imagination. +Middle-aged women, outcasts, whose day has past, but who have still +capabilities for begging and stealing. The whole company presents an +altogether terrible picture, and we are conscious that few of the women +have either the ability or the desire to render decent service to the +community, or to live womanly lives. + +At length the door opens, and we watch them pass silently in, to sleep +during the night in the boxes arranged on the floors, their bodies +unwashed, and their clothing unchanged. Happy are such women when some +trumpery theft lands them in prison, for there at any rate a change of +clothing is provided, and a bath is compulsory. + +If we stand outside a men's shelter, we see a similar state of things, a +waiting crowd. A passive, content, strange mixed lot of humans. Some of +them who have been well educated, but are now reaping the harvest that +follows the sowing of wild oats. The submerged males are, on the whole, +less repulsive than the women; dirt is less in evidence, and they +exhibit a better standard of health. But many of them are harking back +to nature, and remind us of the pictures we have seen of primeval man. + +I want to say a few words about the submerged that congregate on +the Thames Embankment, and the humanity we have seen enter the cheap +shelters. + +My experience has shown me that they constitute the lowest grade and the +least hopeful class of the submerged. Amongst them there are very few +decent and helpable men and women who are capable of rising to a higher +life. Say what we will, be as pitiful as we may, those of us who have +much experience of life know perfectly well that there exists a large +class of persons who are utterly incapable of fulfilling the duties of +decent citizenship. It may be that they are wicked, and it is certain +that they are weak, but whether wicked or weak, they have descended by +the law of moral gravitation and have found their level in the lowest +depths of civilised life. + +And they come from unexpected quarters, for some who have known comfort +and refinement are now quite content with their present conditions. +Whether born of refined parents, or of rude and ignorant parents, +whether coming from a tramping stock, or from settled home life, they +have one thing in common. It is this--the life they live has a powerful +attraction for them; they could not if they would, and would not if they +could, live lives that demand decency, discipline and industry. Nothing +but compulsion will ever induce them to submit themselves to disciplined +life. But let it be clearly understood that I am now speaking only of +the lowest class of the submerged. While my experience has taught me +that they, humanly speaking, are a hopeless lot, I have learned that +they have their qualities. They can endure if they cannot work; they can +suffer if they cannot strive. After all I am persuaded that they get a +fair amount of happiness. Simple pleasures are the greatest, perhaps the +only real pleasures. We all like to be free of responsibilities. There +is no rent-day coming round with dread certainty and irritating monotony +to the nomads. No rate collector irritates them with his imperious +"demand note." No school-board officer rouses them to a sense of duty by +his everlasting efforts to force their children to school. No butcher, +no baker, no milkman duns them for payment of bills long overdue! +They escape the danger of furniture on the "hire system." For them no +automatic gas meter grudgingly doles out its niggardly pennyworths of +gas. They are not implored to burden themselves with the ENCYCLOPAEDIA +BRITANNICA. + +They are free from the seductions of standard bread; paper-bag cookery +causes them no anxious thought. Even "sweet peas" do not enter into +their simple calculations. Finally no life assurance agent marks them +for his prey, and no income-tax tempts them to lie! From all these +things they are free, and I would like to know who would not wish to +be free of them and a thousand other worries I would escape them if I +could, but alas I cannot. + +Decidedly there is much to be said for the life of a nomad, but whether +or not I should place him among the inhabitants of the underworld I +am not sure; for he toils not, neither does he spin, and his bitterest +enemies cannot accuse him of taking thought for the morrow. I had almost +forgotten one great advantage he possesses: he need not wash; and when +this distasteful operation becomes, for sanitary reasons, absolutely +necessary, why then he can take a month in one of our great sanatoria, +either prison or workhouse will do, and be thoroughly cleansed! + +The idea of such free and easy folk being saved by a shelter and +wood-chopping is very funny. + +But we are all tramps, more or less; it is only a question of degree! +Who would not like to tramp with George Borrow through Spain or Wales +I would like the chance! Who does not feel and hear the "call of the +wild"? Most certainly all Britons thrill with it. Who does not like to +feel the "wind on the heath" beat on his face and fill his nostrils! +Who does not love the sweetness of country lanes, or the solitude of +mountains, or the whispering mystery of the wood, or the terrors of the +sea, or the silence of midnight? + +All these things are ingrained in us, part and parcel of our very +selves; we cannot get away from them if we would, and woe betide us if +we did! For this is a grand quality in itself, one that has made our +nation and our empire. But couple it with idleness, inertia, feebleness, +weak minds, and weaker bodies; why, then you get the complete article, +the vegetable human! the guinea-pig man; if you will, the "submerged," +or at any rate a portion of them. + +Originally I have no doubt the human family were nomads, and many of our +good old instincts still survive, but civilisation has killed others. +In every cross-bred species of animals or plants there are "reverts" +or "throwbacks," and the human family produces plenty of them. Every +civilised country has its "throwbacks," and the more monotonous +civilisation becomes, the more cast-iron its rules, and the more +scientific and educated its people, the more onerous and difficult +become the responsibilities and duties of citizenship; and the greater +the likelihood of in increased number of reverts to undisciplined and +wild life. In this direction the sea and our colonies are the safeguard +of England. But to-day we pay in meal or malt for our civilisation, +for many brave lads, with thews and muscles, are chafing, fretting and +wearing out their hearts in dull London offices or stores, where they +feel choked, hampered, cabined and confined, for civilisation chains +them to their desks. + +But I am wandering too! I will hark back. Another cause, and a fruitful +cause, of nomadic life is to be found in the ever-increasing number +of young incapables that our present-day life produces. Characterless, +backboneless, negative kind of fellows with neither wisdom nor stature +abound. Up to eighteen years they pass muster, but after that age they +are useless; in reality they need caring for all their lives. They +possess no initiative, no self-reliance, and little capability for +honest work, unless it be simple work done under close supervision. Our +industrial life is too strenuous for these young men; they are laggards +in life's race, they quickly fall behind, and ultimately become +disqualified altogether. + +Many of their parents refuse them shelter, the streets become their +home; absolute idleness supervenes; their day is past. Henceforward they +are lodging-house habitues, or wanderers on the face of the earth. + +More pitiable still is the case of those that may be classed as +feeble-minded, and who are just responsible enough to be quite +irresponsible. Idiots and imbeciles have largely disappeared from +country villages and small towns. They are well taken care of, for our +large asylums are full of them; they have good quarters, good food, +every attention, so they live long in the land. + +But the case is very different with the half imbeciles or the half mad. +Short terms of imprisonment with short periods of hopeless, useless +liberty and an occasional spell in the workhouse constitute the circle +of their lives; and a vicious circle it is. Can any life be more +pitiable? Sane enough to know that they are not quite sane, insane +enough to have no wish to control their animal or vicious instincts. +Possessing no education, strength or skill, of no possible use in +industrial life, with no taste for decency or social life; sleeping by +day in our parks, and by night upon the Embankment. But they mate; and +as like meets with like the result may be imagined! Here again we +are paying for our neglect of many serious matters. Bad housing, +overcrowding, incessant work by the mothers whilst bearing children, +drinking habits among the parents, insufficient food for the children, +endless anxieties and worries. All these things and more amongst that +portion of the nation which produces the largest families; what wonder +that many incapable bodies and minds result! + +But if civilisation allows all this, civilisation must pay the penalty, +which is not a light one, and continue to have the miserables upon the +Embankment. + +Have we no pity! no thought for the next generation, no concern for +ourselves! No! I do not recommend a lethal chamber, but I do strongly +advise permanent detention and segregation for these low types of +unfortunate humanity. Nothing less will avail, and expensive though it +might be for a time, it would pay in the near future, and would be at +once an act of mercy and justice. + +Yes, on the Thames Embankment extremes meet, the ages are bridged over, +for the products of our up-to-date civilisation stand side by side with +the products of primeval habits and nomadic life. + + + +CHAPTER IV. LODGING-HOUSES + +The inmates of the underworld lodging-houses are a queer and +heterogeneous lot; but they are much to be preferred to the sleepers +out; because rascally though many of them are, there is a good deal +of self-reliance and not a little enterprise amongst them. By hook and +crook, and, it is to be feared, mostly by crook, they obtain sufficient +money for food and lodging, and to this extent they are an improvement +upon the sleepers out. They have, too, some pluck, perseverance and +talents that, rightly applied, might be of considerable benefit to +the community. But having got habituated to the liberty of common +lodging-houses, and to the excitement of getting day by day just enough +for each day's need, though sometimes fasting and sometimes feasting, +the desire for settled home life and for the duties of citizenship has +vanished. For with the money to pay night by night for their lodgings, +responsibility to rent and tax collector ends. + +I must allow some exceptions, for once every year there comes upon +thousands of them the burden of finding five shillings to pay for the +hawker's licence that provides them with the semblance of a living, or +an excuse for begging. After much experience of this class, including +many visits to common lodging-houses, and some friendships with the +inmates, I am sure that the desire to be untrammelled with social and +municipal obligation leads a great percentage of the occupants to prefer +the life to any other. They represent to some extent in this modern and +industrial age the descendants of Jonadab, the son of Rechab, with this +exception, they are by no means averse to the wine-cup. It is to be +feared that there is a growth in this portion of our community, for +every scheme for providing decent lodgings for casually homeless men +is eagerly taken advantage of by men who might and who ought to live in +homes of their own, and so fulfil the duties of decent citizenship. In +this respect even Lord Rowton's estimable lodging-houses, and those, +too, of our municipal authorities prove no exception, for they attract +numbers of men who ought not to be there, but who might, with just a +little more self-reliance and self-respect, live comfortably outside. + +But I pass on to the common lodging-houses that accommodate a lower +class than is found in municipal or Rowton houses. Probably none, or +at any rate very few, of my readers have had a practical experience of +common lodging-houses. I have, so therefore I ask them to accompany me +to one of them. + +In a dingy slum stand a number of grimy houses that have been converted +into one big house. The various doorways have been blocked and one +enlarged entrance serves. + +As we enter, the money-taker in his office demands our business. We tell +him that we are anxious to have a look round, and he tells us that he +will send for the deputy. The deputy is the autocrat that governs with +undisputable sway in this domain of semi-darkness and dirt. We stand +aside in the half-lit passage, taking good care that we have no contact +with the walls; the air we breathe is thick with unpleasant odours, +and we realise at once, and to our complete satisfaction, the smell and +flavour of a common lodging-house. We know instinctively that we have +made its acquaintance before, it seems familiar to us, but we are +puzzled about it until we remember we have had a foretaste of it given +to us by some lodging-house habitues that we met. The aroma of a common +lodging-house cannot be concealed, it is not to be mistaken. The hour +is six o'clock p.m., the days are short, for it is November. The lodgers +are arriving, so we stand and watch them as they pass the little office +and pay their sixpences. Down goes the money, promptly a numbered ticket +takes its place; few words are exchanged, and away go the ticket-holders +to the general kitchen. + +Presently the deputy comes to interview us, and he does not put us at +our ease; he is a forbidding fellow, one that evidently will stand no +nonsense. Observe, if you please, that he has lost his right hand, and +that a formidable iron hook replaces it. Many a time has that hook been +serviceable; if it could speak, many tales would it tell of victories +won, of rows quelled, and of blood spilled. + +We have seen the fellow previously, and more than once, at the local +police-court. Sometimes he came as prosecutor, sometimes as prisoner, +and at other times as witness. When the police had been required to +supplement the power of his iron hand in quelling the many free fights, +he appeared sometimes in the dual capacity of prisoner and prosecutor. + +We know that he retains his position because of his strength and the +unscrupulous way in which he uses it. He knows us too, but he is not +well pleased to see us! Nevertheless, he accedes to our request for +"just a look round." So through a large passage we pass, and he ushers +us into the lodging-house kitchen. As the door opens a babel of many +voices greets us, a rush of warm air comes at us, and the evidence of +our noses proclaims that bloaters and bacon, liver and onions, sausages +and fresh fish are being cooked. We look and see, we see and taste! +Strange eyes are turned upon us just for a moment, but we are not +"'tecs," so the eyes are turned back to the different frying-pans or +roasting-forks, as the case may be. See how they crowd round the huge +and open fire, for there is no cooking range. See how they elbow each +other as they want space for this pan or that fork. See how the bloaters +curl and twist as if trying to escape from the forks and the fire. See +how the sausages burst and splutter in their different pans. See how +stolidly the tough steaks brown, refusing either to splutter, yield fat, +or find gravy to assist in their own undoing. + +Listen to the sizzling that pervades the place, acting as an orchestral +accompaniment to the chorus of human voices. Listen to it all, breathe +it all, let your noses and your ears take it all in. Then let your eyes +and your imagination have their turn before the pungency of rank tobacco +adds to the difficulty of seeing and breathing. And so we look, and we +find there are sixty human beings of both sexes and various ages in that +kitchen. Some of them we know, for have we not seen them in Cheapside, +St. Paul's Churchyard, or elsewhere acting as gutter merchants. Yonder +sit an old couple that we have seen selling matches or laces for many +years past! It is not a race day, and there being no "test match" or +exciting football match, a youth of sixteen who earns a precarious +living by selling papers in the streets sits beside them. To-day papers +are at a discount, so he has given up business for the day and sought +warmth and company in his favourite lodging-house. + +Ah! there is our old friend, the street ventriloquist! You see the back +of his hand is painted in vivid colours to resemble the face of an old +woman. We know that he has a bundle that contains caps and bonnets, +dresses and skirts that will convert his hand and arm into a quaint +human figure. Many a droll story can he tell, for he has "padded the +hoof" from one end of England to the other; he knows every lodging-house +from Newcastle-on-Tyne to Plymouth. He is a graceless dog, fond of a +joke, a laugh and a story; he is honest enough and intelligent enough +for anything. But of regular life, discipline and work he will have +none. By and by, after the cooking is all done, he will want to give a +performance and take up a collection. + +There are a couple, male and female, who tramp the country lanes; the +farm haystacks or outbuildings have been their resting-places during the +summer, but approaching winter has sent them back to London. + +You see that they have got a tattered copy of Moody and Sankey's hymns, +which is their stock-in-trade. They have at different lodging-house +"services" picked up some slight knowledge of a limited number of tunes, +now they are trying to commit the words to memory. + +To-morrow they will in quiet streets be whining out "Oh, where is my boy +to-night?" or "Will you meet me at the Fountain?" + +Look again--here is a shabby-genteel man who lives by his wits. He is +fairly educated and can write a plausible letter. He is dangerous; his +stock-in-trade comprises local directories, WHO'S WHO, annual reports +of charitable societies, clergymen's lists, etc. He is a begging-letter +writer, and moves from lodging-house to lodging-house; he writes letters +for any of the inmates who have some particular tale of woe to unfold, +or some urgent appeal to make, and he receives the major part of the +resultant charity. + +He is drunken and bestial, he is a parasite of the worst description, +for he preys alike on the benevolent and upon the poor wretches whose +cause he espouses. + +He assumes many names, he changes his addresses adroitly, and ticks off +very carefully the names and addresses of people he has defrauded. +In fact, he is so clever and slippery that the police and the Charity +Organisation Society cannot locate him. So he thrives, a type of many, +for every one of London's common lodging-houses can provide us with one +or more such cunning rogues. + +Yonder sits a "wandering boy" about twenty-eight years of age. He is not +thriving, and he must needs be content with simple bread and cheese. A +roll of cheap "pirated" music lies on his knee and proclaims his method +of living. His life has its dangers, for he has great difficulty in +providing five shillings for his pedlar's licence, and he runs great +risk of having his stock seized by the police, and being committed to +prison for a fine he cannot pay. + +He has brought sorrow and disgrace upon his parents, no eye brightens at +the mention of his name. Alas! he is a specimen of the "homeless boy" of +whom his neighbours the minstrels will sing to-morrow. He is silent and +moody, for he is not in funds. Are there none among the company whom +sheer misfortune has brought down into this underworld? we ask. Aye, +there are, for in this kitchen there are representatives of all sorts +and conditions. See that man in the corner by himself, speaking to no +one, cooking nothing, eating nothing; he is thinking, thinking! This +is his first night in a common lodging-house; it is all new to him, he +thinks it all so terrible and disgusting. + +He seems inclined to run and spend his night in the streets, and perhaps +it will be well for him to do so. He looks decent, bewildered and +sorrowful; we know at a glance that some misfortune has tripped him +up, we see that self-respect is not dead within him. We know that if he +stays the night, breathing the foul air, listening to the horrid talk, +seeing much and realising more, feeling himself attacked on every side +by the ordinary pests of common lodging-houses, we know that tomorrow +morning his self-respect will be lessened, his moral power weakened, and +his hope of social recovery almost gone. Let him stay a few weeks, then +the lodging-house will become his home and his joy. So we feel inclined +to cry out and warn him to escape with his life. This is the great evil +and danger of common lodging-houses; needful as they undoubtedly are for +the homeless and the outcast, they place the unfortunate on an inclined +plane down which they slide to complete demoralisation. + +I am told that there are four hundred large common lodging-houses in +London, many of them capable of holding several hundred lodgers, and +which night after night are filled with a weird collection of humanity. +And they cast a fatal spell upon all who get accustomed to them. Few, +very few who have become acclimatised ever go back to settled home +life. For the decencies, amenities and restraints of citizenship +become distasteful. And truly there is much excitement in the life for +excitement, at any rate, abounds in common lodging-houses. + +Nothing happens in them but the unexpected, and that brings its joys and +terrors, its laughter and its tears. Here a great deal of unrestrained +human nature is given free play, and the results are exciting if not +edifying. Let us spend an evening, but not a night--that is too much to +ask-with the habitues. + +We sit apart and listen to the babel of voices, but we listen in vain +for the lodging-house slang of which we are told so much. They speak +very much like other people, and speak on subjects upon which other +people speak. They get as excited as ordinary people, too. + +Yonder is a lewd fellow shouting obscenities to a female, who, in an +equally loud voice and quite as unmistakable language, returns him a +Roland for every Oliver. + +Here are a couple of wordy excitable fellows who are arguing the pros +and cons of Free Trade and Tariff Reform. They will keep at it till the +lights are put out, for both are supplied with a plentiful supply of +contradictory literature. Both have fluent tongues, equally bitter, +and, having their audience, they, like other people, must contend for +mastery. Not that they care for the rights or wrongs of either question, +for both are prepared, as occasion serves, to take either side. +Religion, too, is excitedly discussed, for an animated couple are +discussing Christian Evidences, while the ventriloquist gives parsons +generally and bishops in particular a very warm time; even the Pope and +General Booth do not escape his scurrilous but witty indictments. + +Meanwhile the street singers are practising songs, sacred and secular, +and our friend the street minstrel produces an old flute and plays an +obbligato, whilst the quivering voice of his poor old wife again wants +to know the whereabouts of her wandering boy. + +There will be a touching scene when they do meet--may I be there! but +I hope they will not meet in a common lodging-house. Another street +minstrel is practising new tunes upon a mouth-organ, wherewith to soften +the hearts of a too obdurate public. + +What a babel it all makes; now groups of card-players are getting +quarrelsome, for luck has been against some, or cheating has been +discovered; blows are exchanged, and blood flows! As the night advances, +men and women under the influence of drink arrive. Some are merry, +others are quarrelsome, some are moody and lachrymose. The latter become +the butt of the former, the noise increases, confusion itself becomes +confounded, and we leave to avoid the general MELEE, and to breathe the +night air, which we find grateful and reviving. Phew! but it was hot and +thick, we don't want to breathe it again. It is astonishing that people +get used to it, and like it too! But it leaves its taint upon them, for +it permeates their clothing; they carry it about with them, and any +one who gets a whiff of it gets some idea of the breath of a common +lodging-house. And its moral breath has its effect, too! Woe to all that +is fresh and fair, young and hopeful, that comes within its withering +influence. Farewell! a long farewell to honour, truth and self-respect, +for the hot breath of a common lodging-house will blast those and every +other good quality in young people of either sex that inhale it. Its +breath comes upon them, and lo! they become foul without and vile +within, carrying their moral and physical contagion with them wherever +they go. + +A moral sepulchre, or rather crematorium, is the common lodging-house, +for when its work is done, nothing is left but ashes. For the old +habitues I am not much concerned, and though generally I hold a brief +for old sinners, criminals and convicts, I hold no brief for the old and +middle-aged habitues of a common lodging-house. + +Can any one call the dead to life? Can any one convert cold flesh into +warm pulsing life? Nay, nay! Talk about being turned into a pillar of +salt! the common lodging-house can do more and worse than that! It can +turn men and women into pillars of moral death, for even the influence +of a long term of penal servitude, withering as it is, cannot for one +moment be compared with the corrupting effect of common lodging-house +life. + +So the old minstrels may go seeking their wandering boy! and the +begging-letter writers may go hang! + +The human vultures that prey upon the simple and good-natured may, if +middle-aged, continue in their evil ways. But what of the young people +of whom there ought to be hope? What of them? how long are these "lazar +houses" to stand with open door waiting to receive, swallow, transform +and eject young humanity? But there is money in them, of course there +is; there always is money to be made out of sin and misery if the +community permits. + +Human wreckage pays, and furnishes a bigger profit than more humdrum +investments. I am told by an old habitue with whom I have had endless +talks and who has taught me much, although he is a graceless rascal, +that one man owns eight of these large establishments, and that he and +his family live in respectability and wealth. + +I have no reason to doubt his statement, for these places are mines of +wealth, but the owners take precious good care not to live in them. And +infinite care that their families do not inhabit them. Some day when we +are wise--but wisdom comes so slowly--these things will not be left to +private enterprise, for municipalities will provide and own them at no +loss to the ratepayers either. + +Then decency, though homeless, will have a chance of survival, and +moral and physical cleanliness some chance to live, even in a common +lodging-house. + +Sadly we need a modern St. George who will face and destroy this +monstrous dragon with the fiery breath. + +Let it not be said that I am unduly hard upon them who from choice or +misfortune inhabit these places. From my heart I pity them, but one +cannot be blind to the general consequences. And these things must be +taken into consideration when efforts are made, as undoubtedly efforts +will some day be made, to tackle this question in a reasonable way. + +It is high time, too, that the public understood the difficulties that +attend any effort to lift lodging-house habitues to a higher form of +existence. + +I am bold enough to hazard the statement that the number of these +people increases year by year, and that no redemptive effort has had the +slightest effect in checking the continual increase. As Secretary of +the Howard Association, it is my business year by year to make myself +acquainted with the criminal statistics, and all matters connected with +our prisons. These statistics more than confirm my statement, for they +tell us that while drunkenness, brutality, crimes of violence show +a steady decrease, vagabondage, sleeping out, begging, etc., show a +continual increase as years roll by. + +Of course many of them appear again and again in the prison statistics, +nevertheless they form a great and terrible army, whose increase bodes +ill for dear and fair old England. + +Like birds they are migratory, but they pour no sweetness on the morning +or evening air. Like locusts they leave a blight behind. + +Like famished wolves when winter draws near they seek the habitations of +men. Food they must have! There is corn in Egypt! + +When gentle spring returns, then heigho! for the country lanes, villages +and provincial towns, and as they move from place to place they leave +their trail behind them. + +And what a trail it is! ask the governors of our local prisons, ask the +guardians of any country districts, ask the farmers, aye, and ask the +timid women and pretty children, and, my word for it, they will be able +to tell you much of these strange beings that returning summer brings +unfailingly before them. Their lodging is sometimes the cold hard +ground, or the haystack, or perchance, if in luck, an outbuilding. + +The prisons are their sanatoria, the workhouses their homes of rest, and +the casual ward their temporary conveniences. But always before them +is one objective, for a common lodging-house is open to them, and its +hypnotism draws them on and on. + +So on they go, procreating as they go. Carrying desolation with them, +leaving desolation behind them. The endurance of these people--I suppose +they must be called people--is marvellous and their rate of progression +is sometimes astonishing; weary and footsore, maimed, halt or blind they +get over the ground at a good uniform pace. + +Look at that strange being that has just passed us as we sat on the bank +of a country lane; he goes along with slouching gait and halting steps; +he has no boots worthy of the name, his tattered trousers, much too +long, give us glimpses of his flesh. He wears an old frock-coat that +hangs almost to his heels, and a cloth cap, greasy and worn, upon +his head. His beard is wild and abundant, and his hair falls upon his +shoulders in a way worthy of an artist or poet. + +Follow him, but not too closely, and you will find it hard to keep up +with him, he knows what he is making for. Neither George Borrow nor +Runciman would hold him for a week, for George would want to stop and +talk, but this fellow is silent and grim. A lazar house draws him on, +and he needs must reach it, weak and ill-fed though he is! And he will +reach others too, for he is on a circular tour. But next winter +will find him in a Westminster lodging-house if he has luck, on the +Embankment if he has not. + +He has an easy philosophy: "All the things in the world belong to all +the men in the world," is his outspoken creed, so he steals when he can, +and begs when he cannot steal. + +But think of this life when women share it, and children are born into +it, and lads and lassies are on the tramp. Dare we think of it? We dare +not! If we did, it would not be tolerated for a day. Neither dare I +write about it, for there are many things that cannot be written. So I +leave imagination to supply what words must not convey. + +But it is all so pitiful, it is too much for me, for sometimes I feel +that I am living with them, tramping with them, sleeping with them, +eating with them; I am become as one of them. I feel the horror, yet I +do not realise the charms. + +I am an Englishman! I love liberty! I must be free, or die! I want to +order my own life, to control my own actions, to run on my own lines; +I would that all men should have similar rights. But, alas! it cannot +be--civilisation claims and enchains us; we have to submit to its +discipline, and it is well that it should be so. We do not, cannot live +to ourselves, and for ourselves. Those days have long passed, and for +ever. Orderly life and regular duties are good for us, and necessary for +the well-being of the nation. + +A strong robust: nation demands and requires a large amount of freedom, +and this it must have, or perish! The individual man, too, requires a +fair amount if he is to be a man. But we may, and we do in some things +extend freedom beyond the legitimate bounds. For in a country of limited +area where the bulk of the people live onerous lives, and manfully +perform their duties, we allow a host of parasites to thrive and swarm. + +The more this host increases, the weaker the nation becomes, and its +existence may ultimately become not a sign of freedom but a proof of +national decay. For parasites thrive on weakly life, be it individual +or national. So while we have a profound pity for the nomads, let us +express it with a strong hand. They cannot care for themselves in any +decent way. Let us care for them, and detain them in places that will +allow permanent detention and segregation. And the results will be +surprising, for prisons will be less numerous, workhouses, casual wards +and asylums less necessary, lazar houses with their pestilential breath +will pass away, and England will be happier, sweeter and more free! + + + +CHAPTER V. FURNISHED APARTMENTS + +What fell power decreed that certain streets in London should be devoted +to the purpose of providing "furnished apartments" for the submerged +I do not know. But I do know that some streets are entirely devoted to +this purpose, and that a considerable amount of money is made out of +such houses. + +I ask my readers to accompany me for a visit to one of these streets, +and make some acquaintance with the houses, the furniture and the +inhabitants. + +The particular streets we select run at a right-angle from a main +thoroughfare, a railway divides them from a beautiful park, and on this +railway City merchants pass daily to and from their suburban homes. + +I question whether in the whole of London more misery, vice and poverty +can be found located in one limited area than in the streets we are +about to visit. I know them, and I have every reason for knowing them. +We make our visit in summer time, when poverty is supposed to be less +acute. As we enter the street we notice at once that a commodious +public-house stands and thrives at the entrance. We also notice +that there are in the street several "general" shops, where tea and +margarine, firewood, pickles, paraffin oil and cheese, boiled ham and +vinegar, corned beef and Spanish onions, bread and matches are to be +obtained. + +We stand in the middle of the roadway, in the midst of dirt and refuse, +and look up and down the street. Innumerable children are playing in +the gutter or on the pavements, and the whole place teems with life. We +observe that the houses are all alike, the shops excepted. They stand +three-storey high; there are nine rooms in each house. We look in vain +for bright windows and for clean and decent curtains. + +Every room seems occupied, for there is no card in any window announcing +"furnished apartments." The street is too well known to require +advertisement, consequently the "furnished apartments" are seldom +without tenants. + +The street is a cave of Adullam to which submerged married couples +resort when their own homes, happy or otherwise, are broken up. + +We notice that it is many days since the doors and window-frames of the +different houses made acquaintance with the painter. We notice that +all doors stand open, for it is nobody's business to answer a knock, +friendly or otherwise. We look in the various doorways and see in each +case the same sort of staircase and the same unclean desolation. + +Who would believe that Adullam Street is a veritable Tom Tiddler's +Ground? Would any one believe that a colony of the submerged could prove +a source of wealth? + +Let us count the houses on both sides of the street. Forty-five houses! +Leave out the two "general" shops, the greengrocer's and the "off +licence"; leave out also the one where the agent and collector lives, +that leaves us forty-one houses of nine rooms let out as furnished +apartments. + +If let to married couples that means a population of seven hundred +and thirty-eight, if all the rooms are occupied, and supposing that no +couple occupies more than one room. As for the children--but we dare not +think of them--we realise the advantage of the open street of which we +freely grant them the freehold. But we make the acquaintance of a tenant +and ask some questions. We find that she has two children, that they +have but one furnished room, for which they pay seven shillings and +sixpence weekly in advance! Always in advance! + +She further tells us that their room is one of the best and largest; it +faces the street, and is on the first floor. She says that some rooms +are let at six shillings, others at six shillings and sixpence, and some +at seven shillings. We ask her why she lives in Adullam Street, and she +tells us that her own furniture was obtained on the "hire system," and +when it was seized they came to Adullam Street, and they do not know how +they are to get out of it. + +That sets us thinking and calculating; three hundred and sixty-nine +rooms, rent always payable in advance--from the submerged, +too!--average six shillings and sixpence per week per room, why, that +is L120 per week, or L6,240 annually from forty-one houses, if they are +regularly occupied. Truly furnished apartments specially provided for +the submerged are extra specially adapted to the purpose of keeping them +submerged. + +As no deputy disputes our entrance, we enter and proceed to gain +some knowledge of the tenants, and take some stock of their rooms and +furniture. + +The rooms are simply but by no means sweetly furnished! Here is an +inventory and a mental picture of one room. A commodious bed with dirty +appointments that makes us shudder! A dirty table on which are some +odds and ends of unclean crockery, a couple of cheap Windsor chairs, a +forbidding-looking chest of drawers, a rusty frying-pan, a tin kettle, +a teapot and a common quart jug. He would be a bold man that bid ten +shillings for the lot, unless he bought them as a going concern. A cheap +and nasty paper covers the wall, excepting where pieces have been torn +away, and the broken walls are made of lath and plaster, to provide +splendid cover for innumerable insects which remain in undisputed +possession. + +One floor much resembles another, but the basement and the top storey +rooms are the worst of all. We look through the window of a second floor +back room, and see the out premises, but one look is sufficient. + +We want to know something of the tenants, so we enter into conversation +with them, and find them by no means reserved. + +Room 1. Husband and wife about thirty-five years of age, no children; +husband has been ill for some months, during which the rent got behind. +When he was taken to the infirmary they lost their home altogether; she +did washing and charing for a time, but ultimately got into the "House." + +When her husband got better, and was discharged from the infirmary, his +old mates collected ten shillings for him, he took the room in which +they now lived, and of course she joined him. + +How did they live? Well, it was hardly living; her husband looked round +every day and managed to "pick up something," and she got a day or +two days' work every week--their rent was always paid in advance. What +happened when her husband did not "pick up something" she did not say, +but semi-starvation seemed the only alternative. + +No. 2. Husband, wife and a girl of seven engaged in making coarse paper +flowers of lurid hue. They had been in that room for six months; they +sold the paper flowers in the streets, but being summer time they did +not sell many. At Christmas time people bought them for decorations; +sometimes people gave the girl coppers, but did not take the flowers +from her. The police watched them very closely, as they required a +licence for selling, and if they took the girl out in the wet or dark +the police charged them. + +It was very difficult to live at all, owing to police interference. The +girl did not go to school, but they had been warned that she must go; +they did not know what they should do when she could not help them. + +Room 3. A strong man about thirty, his wife and two young children. The +remains of a meal upon the table, a jug of beer and a smell of tobacco. +The man looks at us, and a flash of recognition is exchanged. He had +been released from prison at 8.30 that morning after serving a sentence +of nine months for shop robbery. + +We asked how much gratuity he had earned. Eight shillings, he told us. +His wife and children had met him at the prison gate; they had come +straight to that room, for which the wife had previously arranged; +they had paid a week in advance. "What was he going to do?" "He did not +know!" He did not appear to care, but he supposed he "must look round, +he would get the rent somehow." We felt that he spoke the truth, and +that he would "get the rent somehow" till the police again prevented +him. + +We know that prison will again welcome him, and that the workhouse gates +will open to receive his wife and children, the number of which will +increase during his next detention in prison. + +Room 4. Two females under thirty. No signs of occupation; they are not +communicative, neither are they rude, so we learn nothing from them +except that they were not Londoners. + +Room 5. A family group, father, mother and four children; they had come +to Adullam Street because they had been ejected from their own home. +Their goods and chattels had been put on the street pavement, whence the +parish had removed them to the dust destructor, probably the best thing +to do with them. + +The family were all unhealthy and unclean. The parents did not seem to +have either strength, grit or intelligence to fit them for any useful +life. But they could creep forth and beg, the woman could stand in the +gutter with a little bit of mortality wrapped in her old shawl, for +tender-hearted passers-by to see its wizened face, and the father could +stand not far away from her with a few bootlaces or matches exposed, as +if for sale. They managed to live somehow. + +Room 6. An elderly couple who had possessed no home of their own for +years past, but who know London well, for the furnished lodgings of the +east, west, north and south are familiar to them. + +He sells groundsel, she sells water-cress, at least they tell us so, +and point to baskets as evidence. But we know that groundsel business +of old. We have seen him standing in a busy thoroughfare with his +pennyworth of groundsel, and we know that though he receives many +pennies his stock remains intact, and we know also that pennyworths +of water-cress in the dirty hands of an old woman serve only the same +purpose. + +Room 7. Here we find a younger but not more hopeful couple; she is +fairly well dressed, and he is rather flashy. They have both food +and drink. We know that when the shades of night fall she will be +perambulating the streets, and he like a beast of prey will be watching +not far away. So we might go through the whole of the colony. There is +a strange assortment of humanity in Adullam Street. Vice and misery, +suffering and poverty, idleness and dishonesty, feeble-mindedness and +idiocy are all blended, but no set-off in virtue and industry is to be +found. + +The strong rogue lives next to the weak and the unfortunate, the +hardened old sinner next door to some who are beginning to qualify for a +like old age. The place is coated with dirt and permeated with sickening +odours. And to Adullam Street come young couples who have decided to +unite their lives and fortunes without any marriage ceremony; for in +Adullam Street such unions abound. + +Young fellows of nineteen earning as much as twelve shillings a week +couple with girls of less age earning ten shillings weekly. It looks so +easy to live on twenty-two shillings a week and no furniture to buy, and +no parson to pay. + +So a cheap ring is slipped on, and hand in hand the doomed couple go +to Adullam Street, which receives them with open arms, and hugs them +so long as six shillings and sixpence weekly is forthcoming in advance. +Their progress is very rapid; when the first child arrives, the woman's +earnings cease, and Adullam Street knows them no more. + +Ticket-of-leave men, ex-convicts, heroes of many convictions, come +to Adullam Street and bring their female counterparts with them. +They flourish for a time, and then the sudden but not unexpected +disappearance of the male leads to the disappearance of the female. She +returns to her former life; Adullam Street is but an incident in her +life. + +So there is a continual procession through Adullam Street; very little +good enters it, and it is certain that less good passes out. + +Where do its temporary inhabitants go? To prisons, to workhouses, to +hospitals, to common lodging-houses, to shelters, to the Embankment and +to death. + +Although those who seek sanctuary in Adullam Street are already +inhabitants of the underworld, a brief sojourn in it dooms them to lower +depths. I suppose there must be places of temporary residence for the +sort of people that inhabit it, for they must have shelter somewhere. +But I commend this kind of property to the searching eyes of the local +authorities and the police. + +But furnished apartments can tell another tale when they are not +situated in Adullam Street. For sometimes a struggling widow, or wife +with a sick husband, or a young married couple seek to let furnished +apartments as a legitimate means of income. When they do so, let them +beware of the underworld folk who happen to be better clothed and more +specious than their fellows, or they will bitterly rue it. + +Very little payment will they get. Couples apparently married and +apparently respectable, but who are neither, are common enough, who are +continually on the look-out for fresh places of abode, where they may +continue their depredation. + +They are ready enough with a deposit, but that is all the money they +mean to part with, and that has probably been raised by robbing their +last landlady. They can give references if required, and show receipts, +too, from their last lodgings, for they carry rent-books made out +by themselves and fully paid up for the purpose. They are adepts at +obtaining entrance, and, once in, they remain till they have secured +another place and marked another prey. + +Meanwhile their poor victims suffer in kind and money, and are brought +nearer destitution. I have frequently known a week's rent paid with the +part proceeds of articles stolen from either the furnished apartments, +or some other part of the house just entered. + +I could tell some sad stories of suffering and distress brought to +struggling and decent people by these pests, of whom a great number are +known to the police. + +And so the merry game goes on, for while vampires are sucking the impure +blood of the wretched dwellers in Adullam Street lodgings, the dwellers +in Adullam Street in their turn prey on the community at large. + +Meanwhile the honest and unfortunate poor can scarcely find cover, and +when they do, why, then their thin blood is drained, for they have to +pay exorbitantly. + +It is apparently easy to transmute wretched humanity into gold. But who +is going to call order out of this horrid chaos? No one, I am thinking, +for no one seems to dare attempt in any thorough way to solve the +question of housing the very poor, and that question lies at the root of +this matter. + +Let any one attempt it, and a thousand formidable vested interests rise +up and confront him, against which he will dash himself in vain. As to +housing the inhabitants of the underworld at a reasonable rental, no one +seems to have entertained the idea. + +Lease holders and sub-lease holders, landlords and ground landlords, +corporations and churches, philanthropists and clergymen have all got +vested interests in house property where wretchedness and dirt are +conspicuous. "But," said a notable clergyman in regard to some horrid +slum, "I cannot help it, I have only a life-interest in it," as if, +forsooth, he could have more; did he wish to carry his interests beyond +the grave? I would give life-interest in rotten house property short +shrift by burning the festering places. But such places are not burned, +though sometimes they are closed by the order of the local authorities. +But oftener still they are purchased by local authorities at great +public cost, or by philanthropic trusts. Then the human rabbits are +driven from their warrens to burrow elsewhere and so leave room for +respectability. + +Better-looking and brighter buildings are erected where suites of rooms +are to let at very high prices. Then a tax is placed upon children, and +a premium is offered to sterility. Glowing accounts appear in the Press, +and royalty goes to inspect the new gold mine! We rub our hands with +complacent satisfaction and say, "Ah! at last something is being done +for housing the very poor!" But what of the rabbits! have they ascended +to the seventh heaven of the new paradise? Not a bit; they cannot offer +the required credentials, or pay the exorbitant rent! not for them seven +flights of stone stairs night and morning; it is so much easier for +rabbits to burrow underground, or live in the open. So away they +scuttle! Some to dustheaps, some back to Adullam Street, some to nomadic +life. But most of them to other warrens, to share quarters with other +rabbits till those warrens in their turn are converted into "dwellings," +when again they must needs scuttle and burrow elsewhere. + +Can it be wondered at that these people are dirty and idle; and that +many of them ultimately prefer the settled conditions of prison or +workhouse life, or take to vagrancy? + +I cannot find a royal specific for this evil; humanity will, under any +conditions, have its problems and difficulties. Vagrants have always +existed, and probably will continue to exist while the human race +endures. But we need not manufacture them! Human rookeries and rabbit +warrens must go; England, little England, cannot afford them, and +ought not to tolerate them. But before we dispossess the rooks and the +rabbits, let us see to it that, somewhere and somehow, cleaner nests and +sweeter holes are provided for them. The more I think upon this question +the more I am convinced that it is the great question of the day, and +upon its solution the future of our country depends. + +See what is happening! Thousands of children born to this kind of +humanity become chargeable to the guardians or find entrance to the +many children's homes organised by philanthropy. One course is taken the +bright and healthy, the sound in body and mind, are emigrated; but the +smitten, the afflicted, the feeble and the worthless are kept at home +to go through the same life, to endure the same conditions as their +parents, and in their turn to produce a progeny that will burrow in +warrens or scuttle out of them even as their parents did before them. + +But the feebler the life, the greater the progeny; this we cannot +escape, for Nature will take care of herself. We, may drive out the +rabbits, we may imprison and punish them, we may compel them to live +in Adullam Street or in lazar houses, we may harry them and drive them +hither and thither, we may give them doles of food on the Embankment or +elsewhere. We may give them chopping wood for a day, we may lodge them +for a time in labour homes; all this we may do, but we cannot uplift +them by these methods. We cannot exterminate them. But by ignoring them +we certainly give them an easy chance of multiplying to such a degree +that they will constitute a national danger. + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE DISABLED + +In this chapter I want to speak of those who suffer from physical +disabilities, either from birth, the result of accident, or disease. +If this great army of homeless afflicted humanity were made to pass in +procession before us, it would, I venture to say, so touch our hearts +that we should not want the procession repeated. + +Nothing gives us more pleasure than the sight of a number of people who, +suffering from some one or other physical deprivation, are being taught +some handicraft by which they will be able to earn a modest living. + +Probably nothing causes us greater sadness than the sight of deformed +and crippled men and women who are utterly unable to render any useful +service to the community, and who consequently have to depend upon +their wits for a miserable living. It is a very remarkable thing that an +accident which deprives a man of a leg, of an arm, or of eyesight, +not only deprives him of his living, but also frequently produces a +psychological change. And unless some counterbalancing conditions serve +to influence in an opposite direction he may become dangerous. It was +not without reason that our older novelists made dwarfs and hunchbacks +to be inhuman fiends. Neither was it without reason that Dickens, our +great student of human nature, made of Quilp a twisted dwarf, and Stagg +a blind man his most dangerous characters. Some years ago I was well +acquainted with a very decent man, a printer; he had lived for years +beyond reproach; he was both a good workman, husband and father. But +he lost his right arm, the result of an accident at his work, and his +character changed from that day. He became morose, violent and cruel, +and obsessed with altogether false ideas. He could not reason as other +men, and he became dangerous and explosive. Time after time I have seen +him committed to prison, until he became a hopeless prison habitue. +My experience has also shown me that physical deprivations are equally +likely to lead to sharpened wits and perverted moral sense as to +explosive and cruel violence. Probably this is natural, for nature +provides some compensation to those who suffer loss. + +This is what makes the army of the physically handicapped so dangerous. +The disabled must needs live, and their perverted moral sense and +sharpened wits enable them to live at the expense of the public. + +Very clever, indeed, many of these men are; they know how to provoke +pity, and they know how to tell a plausible tale. Many of them can get +money without even asking for it. They know full well the perils that +environ the man who begs. I am not ashamed to say that I have been +frequently duped by such fellows, and have learned by sad experience +that my wits cannot cope with theirs, and that my safety lies in +hasty retreat when they call upon me, for I have always found that +conversation with them leads to my own undoing. + +Witness the following. One winter night my eldest son, who lives about +a mile away, went out to post a letter at midnight. After dropping his +letter in the pillar-box, he was surprised to hear a voice say, "Will +you kindly show me the way to Bridlington?" "Bridlington! why, it is +more than two hundred miles away." The request made my son gasp, for, as +I have said, it was winter and midnight. + +The audacity of the request, however, arrested his attention, and that +doubtless was the end to be secured. So a conversation followed. The +inquirer was a Scotchman about thirty years of age; he wore dark glasses +and was decently clad; he had been discharged from St. Bartholomew's +Hospital. He was a seaman, but owing to a boiler explosion on board he +had been treated in the hospital. Now he must walk to Bridlington, where +an uncle lived who would give him a home. He produced a letter from his +uncle, but he had either lost or torn up the envelope. All this and more +he told my son with such candour and sincerity, that he was soon the +poorer by half-a-crown. Then, to improve the fellow's chance of getting +to Bridlington, he brought him to me. I was enjoying my beauty sleep +when that ill-fated knock aroused me. Donning a warm dressing-gown and +slippers, I went down to the front door, and very soon the three of us +were shivering round the remains of a fire in my dining-room. + +Very lucidly and modestly Angus repeated the above story, not once did +he falter or trip. He showed me the letter from his uncle, he pointed +out the condition of his eyes and the scars on his face; with some demur +he accepted my half-crown, saying that he did not ask for anything, and +that all he wanted was to get to Bridlington. + +In my pyjamas and dressing-gown I explored the larder and provided him +with food, after which my son escorted him to the last tramcar, saw him +safely on his way to the Seamen's Institute with a note to the manager +guaranteeing the expense of his bed and board for a few days. + +Next day my son visited the Seamen's Institute, but alas! Angus was not +there, he had not been there. Nevertheless the manager knew something of +him, for three separate gentlemen had sent Angus to the institute. One +had found him in the wilds of Finchley looking for Bridlington! Another +had found him pursuing the same quest at Highgate, while still another +had come on him, with his dark glasses, bundle and stick, looking for +Bridlington on the road to Southgate. + +I do not know whether the poor fellow ever arrived at Bridlington, but +this I do know, that he has found his way northwards, and that he is now +groping and inquiring for Dawlish in Devonshire. + +The Manchester Guardian tells us that one silent evening hour poor +Angus was discovered in several different places in the vicinity of +Manchester. The same paper of the next day's date stated that eleven out +of the twelve who met poor Angus were so overcome by the poignancy +of his narrative and the stupendous character of his task, that they +promptly gave him financial assistance. I am strongly of the opinion +that the twelfth man was entirely without money at the time he met +Angus, or I feel that he would have proved no exception to the rule. In +my heart I was glad to find that the hard-headed citizens of Manchester +are just as kind-hearted and likely to be imposed upon as we are in +London. + +But Angus has been playing his fame for six years at least, for one +gentleman who gave him explicit directions more than five years ago +writes to the Manchester Guardian saying, "I am afraid he took a wrong +turning." + +It is evident that Angus has done fairly well at his business, and yet +it would appear that he never asked for a single penny since he first +started on his endless search. He always accepts money reluctantly, +and I much question whether the police have right to arrest him, or the +gulled public any ground to complain. + +But if Angus should ever get to his kind uncle at Bridlington, and that +respected gentleman should return the five shillings we gave to help his +unfortunate nephew, I will promise to be more careful in pressing money +upon strangers in future. But whether the money comes to hand or not I +have made myself a promise, and it is this: never more to get out of a +warm bed on a cold night to open the house and entertain a half-blind +man that speaks with a rich Scotch accent. + +But how clever it all is! Why, its very audacity ensures its success, +and Angus, for aught I know, has many fellow-craftsmen. Certainly if he +is alone he must be almost ubiquitous. But Angus and such-like are not +to be wondered at, for Nature herself endows all living things with +the powers to adapt themselves to circumstances and obtain the means +of defence and offence from their conditions. So Nature deals with +the human family, in whom the struggle for existence develops varied, +powerful and maybe dangerous characteristics. + +At present it is nobody's business to see that the maimed, the halt, +the blind are taught and trained to be of some service, and made able +in some way to earn a subsistence. Philanthropy, it is true, does +something, and also those blessed institutions, the schools for +the blind, and training homes for the crippled. I never see such +institutions without experiencing great gladness, for I know how much +evil they avert. But the great body of the physically afflicted are +without the walls and scope of these institutions, consequently tens of +thousands of men and women, because of their afflictions, are enabled to +prey upon the community with a cunning that other people cannot emulate. + +We hear daily of accidents. We learn of men and women losing arms, legs +and hands; our hearts are touched for a brief moment, then we remember +the particulars no more. The ultimate consequences are unseen, but they +are not to be avoided, for every cripple left uncared for may become a +criminal of dangerous type. + +Their elemental needs and passions still exist, notwithstanding their +physical deprivations. They claim the right to eat and drink, they claim +the right of perpetuating their kind. + +Some day perhaps the community will realise what the exercise of the +latter right means. Some day, and Heaven send that day soon, we shall be +horrified at the thought that a vast number of unfortunates exist among +us who, demanding our pity and our care, are going down to the grave +without that care to which their physical disabilities entitle them. + +As we look at these unfortunates, feelings of pity, disgust or amusement +may be aroused, but one moment's reflection would convince us that these +afflicted homeless creatures manage to exist and extort an expensive +living from the community. + +I have said that every disabled man is a potential criminal, and that +unless he receives some compensation giving him the means of earning +honestly his living, he is certain to be a danger or a parasite. This is +but natural, for in the first place his physical nature has received a +shock, has sustained an outrage, Nature strikes back, and some one has +to suffer. The loss of a limb means severed muscles, bones and nerves. +Nature never forgets that they ought to be there, but as they are +not there she does without them; but none the less she feels for them +instinctively, and becomes disappointed and bitter because she is +refused the use of them. + +Add to this the anxiety, the sufferings the amputated man feels when he +is also deprived of his means of livelihood, as well as his limb, and +from comfort comes down to penury. Perhaps he has been able hitherto +to keep his wife and children with a fair amount of comfort; now he is +helpless and has to depend upon them. + +He may be of proud spirit, but he has to endure mortification by seeing +his wife labour and slave for him. He becomes moody, then passionate, a +little drink maddens him, then comes the danger. He does something, +then the police are required, and prison awaits him. There he thinks and +broods over his wrong, with bitterness and revengeful spirit. Perhaps +his wife has been compelled to give evidence against him; he remembers +that, he scores it up, and henceforth there is no peace for either of +them! + +Frequent convictions follow, ultimately the wife has to claim the +protection of the law, and gets a separation order on account of his +cruelty. Henceforward he is an outcast, his children and friends cast +him off, for they are afraid of him. But he lives on, and many have to +suffer because he has lost a limb. + +We read a great deal about the development of character through +suffering, and well I know the purifying effects suffering has upon our +race; but it is well sometimes to look at the reverse side, and consider +what evil follows in the wake of suffering. + +Blind men, the deaf and the dumb and the physically disabled need our +pitiful consideration. Some of the sweetest, cleverest, bravest men I +know suffer from great physical disabilities, but they have pleasures +and compensations, they live useful lives, their compensations have +produced light and sweetness, they are not useless in a busy world, they +are not mere cumberers of the ground. They were trained for usefulness +whilst they were young. + +But a far different case is presented with the disabled among the very +poor. What chance in life is there for a youth of twenty who loses an +arm or leg? He has no friends whose loving care and whose financial +means can soften his affliction and keep him in comfort while training +for service. Who in this rich, industrial England wants such service as +he can render? Very few! and those who do make use of him naturally feel +that his service is not worth much. + +Numbers of my acquaintances like Angus half lose their sight! Who +requires their service? No one! But these men live on, and they mean to +live on, and Nature furnishes them with the means by giving them extra +cunning. Many of these fellows, poor disabled fellows, inhabit the dark +places of the underworld. Let us call them out of their dark places and +number them, classify them, note their disabilities! + +Truly they came down to the underworld through great afflictions. They +form the disabled army of civilisation's industrial world who have been +wounded and crippled in the battle. All sorts of accidents have happened +to them: explosions have blinded them, steam has scalded them, buffers +have crushed them, coal has buried them, trains have run over them, +circular saws have torn them asunder. They are bent and they are +twisted, they are terrible to look at; as we gaze at them we are +fascinated. March! now see them move! Did you ever see anything like +this march of disabled men from the gloom of the underworld? + +How they shuffle and drag along; what strange, twisted and jerky +movements they have; what sufferings they must endure, and what pain +they must have had. All these thoughts come to us as we look at the +march of the disabled as they twist and writhe past us. + +The procession is endless, for it is continually augmented by men and +women from the upperworld, who as conscripts are sent to the army below, +because they have sustained injuries in the service of the world above. + +So they pass! But the upperworld has not done with them; it does not get +rid of its natural obligations so easily. It suffers with them, and pays +dearly for its neglect of them. The disabled live on, they will not die +to please us, and they extract a pretty expensive living from the world +above. The worst of it is that these unfortunates prey also upon those +who have least to spare, the respectable poor just above the line. They +do not always sit at the gates of the rich asking for crumbs, for the +eloquence of their afflictions and the pity of their woes strike home +to the hearts and pockets of the industrious poor who have so little to +spare. But it is always much easier to rob the poor! + +It is our boast that Englishmen love justice, and it is a true boast! +But when we read of accidents and of surgical operations, does our +imagination lead us to ask: What about the future of the sufferers? Very +rarely, I expect. + +The fact is, we have got so used to this sight of maimed manhood that it +causes us but little anxious thought, though it may cause some feelings +of revulsion. + +But there is the Employers' Liability Act! Yes, I admit it, and a +blessed Act it is. But the financial consideration given for a lost limb +or a ruined body is not a fortune; it soon evaporates, then heigho! for +the underworld, for bitterness and craft. + +But all accidents do not come within the scope of that Act, not by any +means. If a married woman about to become a mother falls or rolls +down the stairs, when climbing to her home in the seventh heaven of +Block-land, if she sustains long injuries, who compensates her? If the +child is born a monstrosity, though not an idiot, who compensates for +that? If the poor must be located near the sky, how is it that "lifts" +cannot be provided for them? Who can tell the amount of maimed child, +middle-aged and elderly life that has resulted from the greasy stairs +and dark landings of London dwellings. Industrial life, commercial life +and social life take a rare toll of flesh and blood from the poor. For +this civilisation makes no provision excepting temporary sustentation in +hospitals, workhouses or prisons. Even our prison commissioners tell us +that "our prisons are largely filled with the very poor, the ignorant, +the feeble, the incapable and the incapacitated." + +It would appear that if we can make no other provision for the disabled, +we can make them fast in prison for a time. But that time soon passes, +and their poor life is again resumed. But the disabled are not the only +suffering unfortunates in the netherworld who, needing our pity, receive +the tender mercies of prison. For there epileptics abide or roam in +all the horror of their lives "oft-times in water and oft-times in +the fire," a burden to themselves, a danger to others. Shut out from +industrial life and shut out from social life. Refused lodgings here +and refused lodgings there. Sometimes anticipating fits, sometimes +recovering from fits; sometimes in a semi-conscious state, sometimes in +a state of madness. Never knowing what may happen to them, never knowing +what they may do to others. Always suffering, always hopeless! Treated +as criminals till their deeds are fatal, then certified to be "criminal +lunatics." Such is the life of the underworld epileptic. Life, did I +call it?--let me withdraw that word; it is the awful, protracted agony +of a living death, in which sanity struggles with madness, rending and +wounding a poor human frame. Happy are they when they die young! but +even epileptics live on and on; but while they live we consign them to +the underworld, where their pitiful cry of "Woe! woe!" resounds. + +Do not say this is an exaggeration, for it is less than truth, not +beyond it. Poe himself, with all his imagination and power, could not do +full justice to this matter. + +Mendicity societies in their report tell of cunning rascals who impose +on the public by simulating "fits"; they tell of the "king of fits," the +"soap fits king," and others. They point with some satisfaction to the +convictions of these clever rogues, and claim some credit in detecting +them. + +Their statements are true! But why are they true? Because real +epileptics are so common in the underworld, and their sufferings so +palpable and striking, that parasites, even though afflicted themselves, +nay, because of their own disabilities, can and do simulate the weird +sufferings of epileptics. Will mendicity societies, when they tell us +about, enumerate for us, and convict for us the hoary impostors, also +tell us about and enumerate for us the stricken men and women who are +not impostors, and whose fits are unfortunately genuine? + +If some society will do this, they will do a great public service; +but at present no one does it, so this world of suffering, mystery and +danger remains unexplored. + +I do not wonder that the ancients thought that epileptics suffered from +demoniacal possessions; perhaps they do, perhaps we believe so still. +At any rate we deal with them in pretty much the same way as in days +of old. The ancients bound them with chains; we are not greatly +different--we put them in prison. The ancients did allow their +epileptics to live in the tombs, but we allow them no place but prison, +unless their friends have money! + +But let me end the subject by stating that the non-provision for +epileptics is a national disgrace and a national danger. That +incarceration of epileptics in prison and their conviction as criminals +is unjust and cruel. That it is utterly impossible for philanthropy to +restrain, detain and care for epileptics. That the State itself must see +to the matter! + +But just another word: epileptics marry! Imagine if you can the life of +a woman married to an epileptic. + +Epileptics have children of a sort! Can you imagine what they are likely +to be? You cannot! Well, then, I will tell you. Irresponsible beings, +with abnormal passions, but with little sense of truth and honour, with +no desire for continuous labour, but possessed of great cunning. The +girls probably immoral, the boys feckless and drunken. + +We have to pay for our neglect; we have no pity upon epileptics. He and +his children have no pity for us! + + + +CHAPTER VII. WOMEN IN THE UNDERWORLD + +The women of the underworld may be divided into three great classes. +Those who by reason of their habits or mental peculiarities prefer to +live homeless lives. Secondly, those whom misfortune has deprived of +settled home life. Thirdly, those who, having settled homes, live at +starvation point. + +In London there is a great number of each class. With class one I shall +deal briefly, for they do not form a pleasant theme. The best place to +study these wild homeless women is Holloway Prison, for here you will +find them by the hundreds any day you please. In Holloway Prison during +one year 933 women who had been in that gaol more than ten times were +again received into it. + +I am privileged sometimes to address them. As I write I see them sitting +before me. After one of my addresses I was speaking to one of the +wardresses about their repeated convictions, when the wardress said-- + +"Oh, sir, we are glad to see them come back again, for we know that they +are far better off with us than they are at liberty. They go out clean +and tidy with very much better health than they came in. It seems cruel +to let them out, to live again in dirt and misery, and though we have an +unpleasant duty to perform in cleansing them when they return, we feel +some comfort in the thought that for a short time they will be cared +for. Why, sir, it is prison and prison alone that keeps them alive." + +Now this army of women is a dolorous army in all truth, for their faces, +their figures are alike strange and repulsive, and many of them seem +to be clothed with the cerements of moral and spiritual death. They are +frequently charged with drunkenness, stealing, begging, or sleeping out. + +Their names appear on the "Black List," for the law says they are +"habitual inebriates," yet drink has little or nothing to do with their +actual condition. + +Let any one look them in the face as I have looked them in the face, +study their photographs as I have studied them, and I venture to affirm +that they will say with me, "These women are not responsible beings." +For years I have been drumming this fact into the ears of the public, +and at length the authorities acknowledged it, for in 1907 the Home +Office Inspector issued a report on inebriate reformatories, and gave +the following account of those who had been in such institutions: 2,277 +had been treated in reformatories; of these he says 51 were insane +and sent to lunatic asylums, 315 others were pronounced defectives or +imbeciles. Altogether he tells us that 62 out of every hundred were +irresponsible women and unfit for social and industrial life. + +My many years' experience of London's underworld confirms the testimony +of the Home Office, for I am persuaded that a very large proportion +of homeless women on our streets are homeless because they are quite +unfitted for, and have no desire for decent social life. + +Should I be asked about the birth and parentage of these women, I reply +that they come from all classes. Born of tramps and of decent citizens, +born in the slums and sometimes in villas, almost every rank and station +contributes its quota to this class of wild, hopeless women. + +But I pass on to the second class, those who by misfortune have become +submerged. This, too, is a large class, and a class more worthy of +sympathy and consideration than the others, for amongst them, in spite +of misfortune and poverty, there is a great deal of womanliness and +self-respect. Misfortune, ill-health, sorrow, loss of money, position or +friends, circumstances over which they have had but little or no control +have condemned them to live in the underworld. Such women present a +pitiful sight and a difficult problem. They cling to the relics of their +respectability with a passionate devotion, and they wait, hope, starve +and despair. + +Often misfortune has come upon them when the days of youth were passed, +and they found themselves in middle age faced with the grim necessity of +earning a living. I have seen many of them struggle with difficulty, and +exhibit rare courage and patience; I have watched them grow older and +feebler. Sometimes I have provided glasses that their old eyes might be +strengthened for a little needlework, but I have always known that it +was only helping to defer the evil day, when they would no longer be +able to pay the rent for a little room in a very poor neighbourhood. My +mind is charged with the memory of women who have passed through this +experience, who from comfortable homes have descended to the underworld +to wander with tired feet, weary bodies and hopeless hearts till they +lie down somewhere and their wanderings cease for ever. + +But before we consider these women, let us take a peep at the lower +depths. Come, then! Now we are in a charnel house, for we are down +among the drunken women, the dissolute women that stew and writhe in the +underworld, for whom there is no balm in Gilead and no physician. Now we +realise what moral death means. + +Like the horde of Comus they lie prone, and wallow in their impurity. +Hot as the atmosphere is, feverish though their defiled bodies be, +they call for no friendly hand to give them water to cool their parched +throats. The very suggestion of water makes them sick and faint. + +But a great cry smites us: "Give us drink! and we will forget our +misery; give us drink, and we will sing and dance before you! give us +drink, and you may have us body and soul! Drink! drink!" A passionate, +yearning, importunate cry everlastingly comes from them for drink. + +Now with Dante we are walking in Hell; see, there is a form, half human +and half animal, creeping towards us with lewd look and suggestion. +Yonder is an old hag fearful to look upon. Here a group of cast-off +wives, whom the law has allowed outraged husbands to consign to this +perdition; but who, when sober enough, come back to the upperworld and +drag others down to share their fate. + +Does any one want to know what becomes of the wives who, having +developed a love of drink, have been separated from their husbands, and +cast homeless into the streets? Here in this circle of Hell you may find +them, consigned to a moral death from which there is no resurrection. + +And the idle, the vicious, the lustful and the criminal are here too. +But we leave them, and get back to the everlasting workers, the +sober and virtuous women of whom I have told. What a contrast is here +presented! Drunkenness, vice, bestiality and crime! Virtue, industry, +honesty and self-respect condemned to live together! But let us look and +listen; we hear a voice speaking to us-- + +"Dear Mr. Holmes, I am deeply interested in your work, and feel one with +you in mind and heart in the different troubles of human life, and of +their causes and consequences. I feel that if only my health was better, +and I was placed in some other sphere of life, that I would do something +to help on your good work. But, alas! I shall never be strong again; +the hard grinding for a miserable pittance gives me no chance to get +nourishing food and recover my strength. Some people say to me, 'Why +don't you go into the workhouse or the infirmary?' This I bear in +silence, but it is simply killing me in a slow way. Oh! that it should +take so long to kill some of us. It makes me sad to think that so many +lives are wrecked in this way, that so many are driven to wrong, that +so many others should drift away into lives of hopelessness. I have been +stripped of all, and I am waiting for the worst." + +Can any language beat that for lucidity and pathos? My readers will, I +am sure, recognise that those are the words of an educated woman. Yes, +her education was begun in England and finished on the Continent. Were I +to mention the name of the writer's mother, hearts would leap, for that +name lives in story and song. + +But her parents died and left no competence, her health failed, and +teaching became impossible. All she now requires is an out-patient's +ticket for a chest hospital. + +She is a "trouser finisher," and earns one penny per hour; sometimes +she lies on her bed while at work. But by and by she will not be able to +earn her penny per hour; then there will be "homelessness," but not the +workhouse for her. + +But the voice speaks again: "Dear Mr. Holmes, please excuse me not +thanking you sooner for offering me a hospital letter. I shall, indeed, +be very grateful for one when able to get about, for I shall need +something to set me up a bit. + +"At present I am very sadly indeed; my foot seems very much better, yet +not right, the sister thinks. To make matters worse, I have a very bad +gathered finger, and this week I have not been able to do a stitch of +work; indeed, it is very little that I have been able to do this last +ten weeks. Oh, the cruel oppression of taking advantage and putting +extra work for less pay, because I cannot get out to fetch it myself! + +"The most I get is a penny per hour; it is generally less. Sister Grace +was so vexed by the rude message he sent to-day while she was here, +because I could not do the work, that she sent a letter to him telling +him the fact of my suffering. She thinks I am in a very bad state +through insufficient food, and, Mr. Holmes, it is true! for no one but +God and myself really know how I have existed. I rarely know what it is +to get a proper meal, for often I do not expend a sixpence on food in a +week when I pay my way, and thank God I have been able to do this up to +the present somehow or other; but all my treasures are gone, and I look +round and wonder what next! + +"My eyes rest on my dear old violin, which is a memory of the past, +although long silent. It has been a great grief to me the parting with +one thing after another, but I go on hoping for better days that I may +regain them; alas! many are now beyond recall. + +"The parish doctor has been suggested again, but I feel I would +rather die than submit, after all this long struggle and holding out, +especially, as I have been able to keep things a little near the mark; +when they get beyond me, rather than debt I must give in! + +"Still, I hope for better days, and trust things will brighten for me +and others, for God knows there are many silent sufferers ebbing their +lives away, plodding and struggling with life's battle. My heart bleeds +for them, yet I am powerless to help them or myself." + +Time and space do not avail, or I could tell story after story of such +lives, for in the underworld they are numerous enough. Who can wonder +that some of them "are made bitter by misfortune"? Who can wonder that +others "are driven to wrong"? Who can be surprised that "many drift +into lives of hopeless uselessness"? Surely our friend knew what she was +talking about, in the underworld though she be. She sees that there are +deeps below the depths, that she herself is in. Though ill, starving and +hopeless about her own future, she is troubled for others, for she adds, +"since I have known the horror of this life, my heart goes out to others +that are enduring it." + +Now this class of woman is not much in evidence till the final +catastrophe comes, when the doors of a one-roomed home are closed +against them. Even then they do not obtrude themselves on our +observation, for they hide themselves away till the river or canal gives +up its dead. + +But it is not every woman that maintains such a high tone, for once in +the underworld the difficulty of personal cleanliness confronts them, +and dirt kills self-respect. Poverty makes them acquainted with both +physical and moral dirt, and the effect of one night in a shelter or +lodging-house is often sufficient to destroy self-respect and personal +cleanliness for life. + +I am quite sure that I am voicing the opinion of all who have knowledge +of the underworld in which such women are compelled to live, when I say +that the great want in London and in all our large towns is suitable +and well-managed lodging-houses under municipal control and inspection, +where absolute cleanliness and decency can be assured. Lodging-houses to +which women in their hour of sore need may turn with the certainty +that their self-respect will not be destroyed. But under the present +conditions decent women have no chance of retaining their decency or +recovering their standing in social life. + +Listen again! a widowed tooth-brush maker speaks to us: "Dear Mr. +Holmes, I feel that I must thank you for still allowing me a pension, +and I do thank you so much in increasing it. When I received it my heart +was so full of joy that I could not speak. My little boys are growing, +and they require more than when my husband died six years ago. I am sure +it has been a great struggle, but I have found such a great help in you, +I do not know how to thank you for all that you have done for me and +many poor workers. + +"I do hope that God will still give you health and strength to carry +on the good work which you are doing for us. When I last spoke to you I +thought my little boys were much better, but I am sorry to say that when +I took them to Great Ormond Street Hospital, they said they were both +suffering from heart disease, and I was to keep them from school for a +time; and they also suffer from rheumatics. They are to get out all they +can. I have been taking them to the hospital for over two years, and +sometimes I feel downhearted, as I had hoped they would have improved +before this. + +"The eldest boy does not have fits now, and this I am thankful for. But +I feel that I am wasting a lot of your time reading this letter, so I +must thank you very much for all your great goodness to me." + +But one of the boys is now dead, to the other "fits" have returned, and +the widow still sits, sits and sits at her tooth-brushes in poverty and +hunger. + +Listen to an old maid's story; she is a shoe machinist: "Yes, sir, I +have kept them for six years, and I hope to keep them till they can keep +themselves, and then perhaps they will help to keep me." + +The speaker was a worn and feeble woman of fifty-five years, at least +that was the age she gave me, and most certainly she did not look less. +We were talking about her two boys, her nephews, whose respective ages +were eleven and thirteen. + +"Both their parents died six years ago; their father was my only +brother, and their mother had neither brothers nor sisters! Of course I +took them; what else could I do? What! Send them to the workhouse? Not +while I can work for them. Ah, sir! you were only joking!" In this she +was partly right, for I had merely offered the suggestion in order to +draw her out. + +"So after the double funeral they came to live with you?" "Yes." "Did +their parents leave any money?" "Money, no! How can poor people leave +any money? their club money paid for the funeral and the doctor's bill." +"So they owed nothing?" "Not a penny; if they had, I should have paid it +somehow." + +And doubtless she would, though how, it passes my wit to conceive. But +there, it would have meant only a few more hours' work daily for the +brave old spinster, but not for the boys, for they would have been fed +while she fasted, they would have slept while she worked. + +"Yes," she continued, "I am a boot machinist, and it is pretty hard +work; we had a tough time when I had to pay two shillings weekly for +that machine, but we managed, and now you see it is paid for, it is my +own; but really, times are harder for us. The boys are growing and want +more food and clothing; they go to school, and must have boots; it's the +boots that floor me, they cost a lot of money." + +I called the boys to me and examined their boots; their old aunt looked +as if she was going to prevent me, but presently she said, "I had no +work last week, or I should have got him a pair." "Him" was the younger +boy, whose boots, or the remains of them, presented a deplorable +appearance; and, truth to tell, the elder boy's were not much better. So +I said to the brave old soul, "Look here, I will give these boys a good +new pair of boots each on one condition!" "What is that." "That you +allow me to buy you a pair." Again there was a look of resentment, but +I continued, "I am quite sure that you require boots as badly as +your boys, and I cannot think of them having nice boots and you going +without, so I want you to all start equal; kindly put out your foot +and let me look." In a shamefaced sort of a way she put her left foot +forward; a strange, misshapen, dilapidated apology of a boot covered the +left foot. "Now the right," I said. "Never mind looking at the other, it +does not matter, does it?" she said. "Yes, it does," so the right foot +was presented; one glance was enough! "That will do; come along for +three pairs of boots." + +They returned home, the boys rejoicing in their new boots, and their +feeble old aunt tolerating hers for the sake of her boys. Dear, brave, +self-denying, indomitable old maid. She had visited the fatherless in +their afflictions, she had toiled unceasingly for six long years, she +had taken willingly upon her weak shoulders a heavy burden; a burden +that, alas! many strong men are only too willing to cast upon others. +She had well earned her pair of boots, and sincerely do I hope that +when her poor feet get accustomed to their circumscribed area, and the +pressure of well-made boots has become comforting, that she will derive +pleasure from them, even though they represent "the first charity that I +have ever received." + +But is it not wonderful, this marvellous self-denial of the very poor! +Other spheres of life doubtless produce many noble lives and heroic +characters, but was ever a braver deed done than this feeble and weary +old maid did? + +And it was all so natural, so commonplace, so very matter-of-fact, for +when I spoke warmly of her deed she said very simply, "Well, what else +could I do!" + +And in the underworld, amidst the dirt and squalor, the poverty, the +high rents, and the poor, poor earnings of poor, poor women, there are +plenty like her. + +God grant that when the lads can work they will lighten her burdens and +cheer her heart by working for her who had worked so hard for them. + +Listen also to the story of the blouse-makers disclosed to the upper +world by the Press. + +"A pathetic story of poverty was told to the Hackney coroner, who held +an inquiry into the death of Emily Langes, 59, a blouse-maker of Graham +Road, Dalston. Death was due to starvation. + +"Annie Marie, an aged sister, said they had both been in great poverty +for a very long time. They had worked at blouse-making as long as they +could, but that work had fallen off so much that really all they had got +to live on was by selling off their home. + +"They had not enough to live on, and had to pay four shillings and +sixpence rent. + +"The coroner: 'Selling your home will soon come to an end. You had best +apply in the proper direction for help; the parish must bury her. Don't +go on ruining yourself by selling off things.' + +"Mr. Ingham, relieving officer for the No. 7 ward at Hackney, said that +he knew the old couple. He remembered giving relief to both sisters +about two months ago, but had had no application since. He offered the +'House' to the living sister. + +"A juror: 'Are questions put which might upset a proud respectable old +couple when they ask for relief?' + +"Witness: 'Of course we have to inquire into their means pretty +closely.' + +"The coroner: 'It seems pretty clear that the old couple were too proud +to ask for help.' + +"The jury returned a verdict that Emily Langes died from exhaustion +caused by want of food." + +But listen again! as we stand in the land of crushed womanhood and +starving childhood. We hear a gentle voice, "Mother, it is nearly one +o'clock, the men have gone by from the public-house; you go to bed, +dear, and I will finish the work." A feeble woman, with every nerve +broken, rises from her machine, shakes her dress and lies down on her +bed, but her daughter sits on and on. + +Oh the sighs and groans and accents of sorrow that come upon our +listening ears! Oh the weariness, the utter weariness of this land below +the line! + +Midnight! and thousands of women are working! One o'clock, and thousands +are still at it! Two o'clock, the widows are still at work! Thank God +the children are asleep. Three o'clock a.m., the machines cease to +rattle, and in the land of crushed womanhood there is silence if not +peace. But who is to pay? Shall we ultimately evolve a people that +require no sleep, that cannot sleep if they would? Is crushed womanhood +to produce human automatic machines? Or is civilisation generally to pay +the penalty for all this grinding of human flesh and blood? Let me tell +the story of an old machinist! I have told part of it before, but the +sequel must be told. I had made the acquaintance and friendship of three +old women in Bethnal Green who lived together, and collaborated in their +work. They made trousers for export trade; one machined, one finished, +and one pressed, brave old women all! They all worked in the machinist's +room, for this saved gas and coal, and prevented loss of time. At night +they separated, each going to her own room. The machinist was a widow, +and her machine had been bought out of her husband's club and insurance +money when he died twenty-one years before. I had often seen it, heard +its rattle, and witnessed its whims. + +She once told me that it required a new shuttle, and I offered to pay +for one; but she said, "I cannot part with it; it will last my time, for +I want a new shuttle too!" + +Six months after she was found dead in her bed by her partners when they +came to resume work. + +Her words had come true! The old machine stood silent under the little +window; its old shuttle no longer whirred and rattled with uncertain +movements. It was motionless and cold. On a little bed the poor old +brave woman lay cold and motionless too! for the shuttle of her life had +stopped, never to move again. + +The heroic partnership of the old women was broken, never in this world +to be resumed, and so two old hearts sorrowed and two troubled minds +wondered how they would be able to live without her. + +I knew her well; it was my privilege to give her some happiness and some +change from grime and gloom, to take her away sometimes from the wayward +shuttle and rattling machine. I knew that she would have selected such +a death could she have chosen, for she dreaded the parish. I think, too, +that she would have wished for her old machine to be buried with her, +and for its silent shuttle to be beside her in her coffin. To her it was +a companion, and for it her husband died. Twenty-one years the machine +and herself had lived with each other and for each other. Sharing +with each other's toil, if not each other's hopes and fears! Working! +working! unceasingly through life--in death and rest they were not +divided. + +It was a blessed thing that her machine partner required no food, or +life would have been even more serious than it was. But it had its +whims and its moods, sometimes it resented everlasting work at +three-half-pence per hour for the pair of them, and it "jibbed." But a +little oil and a soothing word, and, it must be feared, sometimes with a +threat, and the old thing went again. + +Surely it will be sacrilege for any one else to sit upon that old chair +and try to renew the life and motion of the old machine! + +It is strange that this oppression of women which is the cause of my +greatest sorrow should also be the cause of my keenest joy. But it is +so! And why? Because I number two thousand of these underworld women +slaves among my personal friends, and I am proud of it! The letters I +have given are a few out of hundreds that I have received. I know these +women as few know them. I know their sufferings and their virtues, their +great content and their little requirements. I know that they have the +same capabilities for happiness as other people, and I know that they +get precious little chance of exercising those capabilities. Strange +again, I get no begging letters from them, though I do from others who +are better placed. I declare it to be wonderful! This endurance and +patience of London's miserably paid women. I tell you that I am the +happiest man alive! Why? Because during the present year a thousand +of my poor friends from the underworld came up for a time and had a +fortnight, a whole fortnight's rest each with food and comfort in a +beautiful rest home by the sea. For kind friends have enabled me to +build one for them and for them alone! + +And I was there sometimes to see, and it was good for me. So Mrs. Holmes +and myself make frequent visits to the rest home, and every time we +visit it we become more and more convinced that not only is it a "Palace +Beautiful," but that it is also a joy to the slave women who have the +good fortune to spend a holiday (all too short) in it. + +Gloom cannot enter "Singholm" or, if it does enter, it promptly and +absolutely disappears. Ill-temper cannot live there, the very flowers +smile it away. The atmosphere itself acts like "laughing gas." So the +house fairly rings with merry laughter from elderly staid women equally +as from the younger ones, whose contact with serious and saddening life +has not been so paralysing to joyous emotions. + +It did us good to hear such jolly laughter from throats and organs that, +but for Singholm, must have rusted and decayed. + +One of our trustees was with us, it being his first visit to the home. +I know that he was surprised at the size, the beauty, the comfort and +refinement of the whole place. The garden filled him with delight, +the skill of the architect in planning the building, together with the +style, gave him increased pleasure. + +The great drawing-room and the equally large dining-room rather +astonished him. The little bedrooms he declared perfect. But what +astonished him most of all was the unaffected happiness of the women; +for this I do not think he was prepared. Well, as I have said, +gloom cannot live in Singholm, and this I have found out by personal +experience, for if I am quite cross and grumpy in London, I cannot +resist the exhilaration that prevails at Singholm among London's +underworld women. + +I think I may say that our trustee was surprised at something else! But +then he is a bachelor, and so of course does not understand the infinite +resources of femininity. + +"How nice they look," he said. "How well they dress"; and, once again, +"How clean and tidy they are; how well their colours blend!" + +Thank God for this! we hold no truce with dirt at Singholm; we bid +dowdyism begone! avaunt! I will tell you a secret! Singholm demands +respect for itself and self-respect for its inmates. + +Our trustee's testimony is true; the women belonging to our association +do look nice; when they are at Walton they rise to the occasion as if +they were to the manner born. + +When, with their cheap white or blue blouses, they sit under the palms +in our drawing-room, all, even the oldest and poorest, neat--nay, smart +if you will--they present a picture that can only be appreciated by +those who know their lives. Some people might find fault, but to me the +colour and tone of the picture is perfect. + +As there were seventy of them, there was room for variety, and they gave +it! Look at them! There they sit as the shades of night are falling. +They have been out all day long, and have come in tired. Are they +peevish? Not a bit! Are they downhearted? No! + +There is my friend who makes no secret about it, and tells us that she +is forty-six years of age; this is the first time she has ever seen the +sea, and she laughs at the thought. The sun has browned, reddened and +roughened her face, and when I say, "How delicate you look," she bursts +again into merry laughter, and the whole party join her. Mrs. Holmes and +myself join in, and our worthy trustee, bachelor and Quaker though he +be, laughs merriest of all. + +Aye! but this laughter was sweet music, but somehow it brought tears to +my eyes. + +Now just look at my friend over there beside one of the palms, her +feet resting so naturally on the Turkey carpet! You observe she sits +majestically in a commodious chair; she needs one! For she is five +feet eleven inches in height, and weighs sixteen stone. I call her "The +Queen," for when she stands up she is erect and queenly with a noble +head and pleasing countenance. + +She makes no secret about her age; "I am sixty, and I have been here +four times, and, please God, I'll come forty-four more times," and she +looks like it. But what if there had been no Singholm to look forward to +year by year? Why, then she would have been heavy in heart as well as in +body, and her erect form would have been bent, for she is a hard worker +from Bethnal Green. + +The idea of coming forty-four more times to Singholm, and she sixty-six, +was the signal for more laughter, and again Singholm was tested; but our +builder had done his work well. + +"Turn on the electric light, matron!" There is a transformation scene +for you! Now you see the delicate art colours in the Turkey carpets, and +the subdued colours in the Medici Society's reproduced pictures. + +See how they have ranged their chairs all round by the walls, and the +centre of the room is unoccupied, saving here and there maidenhair ferns +and growing flowers. Now look at the picture in its fulness! and we see +poor old bent and feeble bodies bowed with toil, and faces furrowed by +unceasing anxiety; but the sun, the east wind, the sea air and Singholm +have brightened and browned them. + +There is my poor old friend, long past threescore and ten, to whom +Singholm for a time is verily Heaven; but--"Turn on the gramophone, +please, matron." Thanks to a kind friend, we have a really good one, +with a plentiful supply of records. The matron, in the wickedness of +her heart, turns on an orchestral "cakewalk." The band plays, old bodies +begin to move and sway, and seventy pair of feet begin unconsciously to +beat the floor. Laughter again resounds; our Quaker himself enters into +the spirit of it, so I invite him to lead off with the "Queen" for his +partner, at which he was dismayed, although he is a veritable son of +Anak. + +But to my dismay the bent and feeble septuagenarian offered to lead off +with myself as partner, at which I collapsed, for alas, I cannot +dance. Then our trustee led the roars of laughter that testified to my +discomfiture. + +So we had no dancing, only a cakewalk. But we had more merriment and +music, and then our little evening service. "What hymn shall we have?" +Many voices called out, "Sun of my soul," so the matron went to the +piano, and I listened while they sang "Watch by the sick, enrich the +poor," which for me, whenever the poor, the feeble and aged sing it, +has a power and a meaning that I never realise when the organ leads a +well-trained choir and a respectable church congregation to blend their +voices. + +Then I read to them a few words from the old, but ever new, Book, and +closed with a few simple, well-known prayers, and then--as old Pepys has +it--"to bed." + +We watch them file up the great staircase one by one, watch them +disappear into their sweet little rooms and clean sheets. To me, at any +rate, the picture was more comforting and suggestive than Burne Jones's +"Golden Stairs." In fifteen minutes the electric light was switched off, +and Singholm was in darkness and in peace. But outside the stars were +shining, the flowers still blooming, the garden was full of the mystery +of sweet odours; close by the sea was singing its soothing lullaby, and +God was over all! + +But let us get back to the underworld! + +"How long have we lived together, did you ask? well, ever since we were +born, and she is sixty-seven," pointing to a paralysed woman, who was +sitting in front of the window. "I am two years younger," she continued, +"and we have never been separated; we have lived together, worked +together, and slept together, and if ever we did have a holiday, we +spent it together. And now we are getting old, just think of it! I am +sixty-five, isn't it terrible? They always used to call us 'the girls' +when mother, father and my brothers were alive, but they have all +gone--not one of them left. But we 'girls' are left, and now we are +getting old--sixty-five--isn't it terrible? We ought to be ashamed of +it, I suppose, but we are not, are we, dear? For we are just 'the girls' +to each other, and sometimes I feel as strong and as young as a girl." + +"How long have you lived in the top of this four-storey house?" I asked. +"Sixteen years," came the reply. "All alone?" "No, sir, we have been +together." "And your sister, how long has she been paralysed?" "Before +we came to this house." "Does she ever go out?" "Of course she does; +don't I take her out in the bath-chair behind you?" "Can she wash and +dress herself, do her hair, and make herself as clean and tidy as she +is?" "I do it for her." + +"But how do you get her down these interminable stairs?" I asked. + +"She does that herself, sitting down and going from step to step," she +said, and then added, "but it is hard work for her, and it takes her a +very long time." + +"Now tell me," I said, "have you ever had a holiday?" "Yes, we have had +one since my sister became paralysed, and we went to Herne Bay." "Did +you take the bath-chair with you?" "Of course we did; how could she go +without it?" "And you pushed her about Herne Bay, and took her on the +sands in it?" I said. "Of course," she said quite naturally, as if she +was surprised at my question. "Now tell me how much rent do you pay for +these two rooms?" "Seven shillings and sixpence per week; I know it is +too much, but I must have a good window for her, where she can sit and +look out." "How do you do your washing?" "I pay the landlady a shilling +a week to do it." "How long have you worked at umbrella covering?" "Ever +since we left school, both of us; we have never done anything else." +"How long have your parents been dead" "More than forty years," was the +answer. + +To every one of the replies made by the younger sister, the paralytic +at the window nodded her head in confirmation as though she would say, +"Quite true, quite true!" + +"Forgive me asking so many questions, but I want to understand how you +live; you pay seven-and-six rent, and one shilling for washing every +week; that comes to eight shillings and sixpence before you buy food, +coal, and pay for gas; and you must burn a lot of gas, for I am sure +that you work till a very late hour," and the elder sister nodded her +head. "Yes, gas is a big item, but I manage it," and then the elder one +spoke. "Yes, she is a wonderful manager! a wonderful manager! she is +better than I ever was." "Well, dear, you managed well, you know you +did, and we saved some money then, didn't we!" + +"Ah! we did, but mine is all gone, and I can't work now; but you are a +good manager, better than I ever was." + +I looked at the aged and brave couple, and took stock of their old but +still good furniture that told its own story, and said, "You had two +accounts in the Post-Office Savings Bank, and when you both worked +you saved all you could?" "Yes, sir, we worked hard, and never wasted +anything." Again the sixty-seven old girl broke in: "But mine is all +gone, all gone, but she is a wonderful manager." "And mine is nearly all +gone, too," said the younger, "but I can work for both of us," and the +elder sister nodded her head as if she would say, "And she can, too!" I +looked at the dozen umbrellas before me, and said, "What do you get for +covering these?" "Ah! that's what's called, vulgarly speaking, a bit of +jam! they are gents' best umbrellas, and I shall get three shillings for +them. I got them out yesterday from the warehouse, after waiting there +for two hours. I shall work till twelve to-night and finish them by +midday to-morrow; they are my very best work." Three shillings for +a dozen! her very best work! and she finding machine and thread, and +waiting two hours at the factory! + +"Come," I said, "tell me what you earned last week, and how many hours +you worked?" "I earned ten shillings and sixpence; but don't ask me how +many hours I worked, for I don't know; I begin when it is light, because +that saves gas, and I work as long as I can, for I am strong and have +good health." "But," I said, "you paid eight shillings and sixpence for +rent and washing; that left you with two shillings. Does your sister +have anything from the parish?" I felt sorry that I had put the +question, for I got a proud "No, sir," followed by some tears from the +sixty-five-year-old "girl." Presently I said, "However do you spend +it?" "Didn't I tell you that I had saved some, and was drawing it? But +I manage, and get a bit of meat, too!" Again from the window came the +words, "She is a good manager." + +"What will you do when you have drawn all your savings?" "Oh! I shall +manage, and God is good," was all I could get. + +A brave, heroic soul, surely, dwells in that aged girl, for in her I +found no bitterness, no repining; nay, I found a sense of humour and +the capability of a hearty laugh as we talked on and on, for I was in +wonderland. + +When I rose to leave, she offered to accompany us--for a friend was with +me--downstairs to the door; I said, "No, don't come down, we will find +our way; stop and earn half-a-crown, and please remember that you are +sixty-five." "Hush!" she said, "the landlady will hear you; don't tell +anybody, isn't it awful? and we were called the girls," and she burst +into a merry laugh. During our conversation the paralysed sister had +several times assured me that she "would like to have a ride in a +motor-car." This I am afraid I cannot promise her, much as I would like +to do so; but the exact object of my visit was to make arrangements for +"the girls" to go to our home of rest for a whole fortnight. + +And they went, bath-chair as well. For sixteen long years they had not +seen the sea or listened to its mighty voice, but for a whole fortnight +they enjoyed its never-ending wonder and inhaled its glorious breath. +And the younger "girl" pushed the chair, and the older "girl" sat in it +the while they prattled, and talked and managed, till almost the days of +their real girlhood came back to them. Dull penury and sordid care were +banished for a whole fortnight and appetite came by eating. The older +"girl" said, "If I stop here much longer, I know I shall walk," and she +nearly managed it too, for when helped out of her chair, she first began +to stand, and then to progress a little step by step by holding on +to any friendly solid till she almost became a child again. But the +fortnight ended all too soon, and back to their upper room, the window +and the umbrellas they came, to live that fortnight over and over again, +and to count the days, weeks and months that are to elapse before once +again the two old girls and an old--so old--bath-chair will revel and +joy, eat and rest, prattle and laugh by the sea. + +But they have had their "motor ride," too! and the girls sat side by +side, and although it was winter time they enjoyed it, and they have a +new theme for prattle. + +I have since ascertained that the sum of ten shillings, and ten +shillings only, remained in the Post-Office Savings Bank to the credit +of the managing sister. + +But I have also learned something else quite as pitiful--it is this: the +allowance of coal during the winter months for these heroic souls +was one half-hundredweight per week, fifty-six lb., which cost them +eightpence-halfpenny. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. MARRIAGE IN THE UNDERWORLD + +Young folk marry and are given in marriage at a very early age in the +underworld. Their own personal poverty and thousands of warning examples +are not sufficient to deter them. Strange to say, their own parents +encourage them, and, more strange still, upperworld people of education +and experience lend a willing hand in what is at the best a deplorable +business. + +Under their conditions it is perhaps difficult to say what other +course can or ought to be taken, for their homes are like beehives, +and "swarming" time inevitably comes. That oftentimes comes when young +people of either sex are midway in their "teens." The cramped little +rooms or room that barely sufficed for the parents and small children +are altogether out of the question when the children become adolescent. +The income of the family is not sufficient to allow the parents, even +if they were desirous of doing so, taking larger premises with an extra +bedroom. Very few parents brace themselves to this endeavour, for it +means not only effort but expense. So the young folks swarm either to +lodgings, or to marriage, and the pretence of home life. + +Private lodgings for girls are dangerous and expensive, while public +lodgings for youths are probably a shade worse. So marriage it is, and +boys of nineteen unite with girls one or two years younger. + +I have no doubt that the future looks very rosy to the young couple +whose united earnings may amount to as much as thirty shillings weekly, +for it is an axiom of the poor that two can live cheaper than one. + +It is so easy to pay a deposit on a single room, and so easy, so very +easy, to purchase furniture on the hire system. Does not the youth give +his mother ten shillings weekly? Why not give it to a wife? Does not the +girl contribute to her mother's exchequer? Why may not she become a wife +and spend her own earnings? Both are heartily sick of their present home +life, any change must be for the better! So marriage it is! But they +have saved nothing, they are practically penniless beyond the current +week's wages. Never mind, they can get their wedding outfit on the pay +weekly rule, the parson will marry them for nothing. "Here's a church, +let's go in and get married." Christmas, Easter or Bank Holiday comes to +their aid, and they do it! and, heigho! for life's romance. + +The happy bride continues at the factory, and brings her shillings to +make up the thirty. They pay three shillings and sixpence weekly for +their room, one-and-six weekly for their household goods, two more +shillings weekly are required for their wedding clothes, that is all! +Have they not twenty-three shillings left! + +They knew that they could manage it! All goes merrily as a marriage +bell! Hurrah! They can afford a night or two a week at a music-hall; why +did they not get married before? how stupid they had been! + +But something happens, for the bride becomes a mother. Her wages cease, +and thirty shillings weekly for two is a very different matter to twenty +shillings for three! + +They had to engage an old woman for nurse for one week only. But +that cost seven shillings and sixpence. A number of other extras are +incurred, all to be paid out of his earnings. They have not completed +the hire purchase business; they have even added to that expense by +the purchase of a bassinet at one shilling weekly for thirty weeks. The +bassinet, however, serves one useful purpose, it saves the expense of a +cradle. + +In less than a fortnight the girl mother is again knocking at the +factory door. She wishes to become an "out-worker"; the manager, knowing +her to be a capable machinist, gives her work, and promises her a +constant supply. + +Now they are all right again! Are they? Why, she has no sewing-machine! +Stranded again! not a bit of it. The hire purchase again comes to her +help. Eighteenpence deposit is paid, a like weekly payment promised, +signed for and attended to; and lo! a sparkling new sewing-machine is +deposited in their one room. Let us take an inventory of their goods: +one iron bedstead, flock mattress, two pairs of sheets, two blankets and +a common counterpane, a deal chest of drawers, a deal table, two Windsor +chairs, a bassinet carriage, a sewing-machine, fire-shovel, fender and +poker, some few crocks, a looking-glass, a mouth-organ and a couple of +towels, some knives, forks and spoons, a tea-pot, tea-kettle, saucepan +and frying-pan. But I have been very liberal! They stand close together, +do those household goods; they crowd each other, and if one moves, it +jostles the other. The sewing-machine stands in front of the little +window, for it demands the light. It took some scheming to arrange this, +but husband and wife ultimately managed it. The bassinet stands close to +the machine, that the girl mother may push it gently when baby is cross, +and that she may reach the "soother" and replace it when it falls from +baby's mouth. + +Now she is settled down! off she goes! She starts on a life of toil, +compared to which slavery is light and pleasant. Oh, the romance of it; +work from morn till late at night. The babe practically unwashed, the +house becomes grimy, and the bed and bassinet nasty. The husband's wages +have not risen, though his expenses have; other children come and some +go; they get behind with their rent; an "ejectment order" is enforced. +The wretched refuse of the home is put on the street pavement, the door +is locked against them, and the wretched couple with their children +are on the pavement too! The only thing to survive the wreck is the +sewing-machine. The only thing that I know among the many things +supplied to the poor on the hire system that is the least bit likely to +stand the wear and tear is the machine. Doubtless the poor pay highly +for it; still it is comforting to know that in this one direction +the poor are supplied with good articles. And the poor respect their +machines, as the poor always respect things that are not shoddy. + +I have drawn no fancy picture, but one that holds true with regard to +thousands. Evils that I cannot enumerate and that imagination cannot +exaggerate wait upon and attend these unfortunate, nay, criminal +marriages; which very largely are the result of that one great +all-pervading cause--the housing of the poor. + +But in the underworld there are much worse kinds of married life than +the one I have pictured, for those young people did start life with +some income and some hopes. But what can be said about, and what +new condemnation can be passed upon, the marriage of feeble-minded, +feeble-bodied, homeless wanderers? United in the bonds of holy matrimony +by an eager clergy, and approved in this deplorable step by an all-wise +State, thousands of crazy, curious, wretched, penniless individuals, to +whom even the hire system is impossible, join their hopeless lives. + +Half idiots of both sexes in our workhouses look at each other, and then +take their discharge after a mutual understanding. They experience no +difficulty in finding clergymen ready to marry them and unite them in +the bonds of poverty and the gall of wretchedness. The blessing of the +Church is pronounced upon this coupling, and away they go! + +Over their lives and means of living I will draw a veil, for common +decency forbids me to speak, as common decency ought to have forbidden +their marriage. + +But down in the underworld, and very low down, too, are numberless +couples whose plight is perhaps worse, for they have at any rate known +the refined comfort of good homes, but remembrance only adds poignancy +to suffering and despair. + +Read the following story, and after condemnation upon condemnation has +been passed upon the thoughtless or wicked marriages of the poor, tell +me, if you will, what condemnation shall be passed upon the educated +when they, through marriage, drag down into this inferno innocent, +loving and pure women? + +It was Boxing Day in a London police-court. Twenty-five years have +passed, but that day is as fresh in my memory as though it were +yesterday. The prisoners' rooms were filled, the precincts of the court +were full, and a great crowd of witnesses and friends, or of the curious +public, were congregated in the street. + +Yesterday had been the great Christian festival, the celebration of the +birth of the Prince of Peace, when the bells had rang out the old story +"Peace on earth, good-will to men." To-day it looked as though Hell had +been holding carnival! + +Nearly one hundred prisoners had to come before the magistrate. I can +see them now! as one by one they passed before him, for time has not +dimmed the vivid picture of that procession. I remember their stories, +and think still of their cuts and wounds. Outside the court the day was +dull, and inside the light was bad and the air heavy with the fumes of +stale debauch and chloride of lime. And yesterday had been Christmas Day +in the metropolis of Christendom. + +Hours passed, and the kindly magistrate sat on apportioning punishment, +fitting the sentence as it were by instinct. At two o'clock he rose for +a short recess, a hasty luncheon, and then back to his task. + +At the end of the long procession came a smitten woman. Darkness and +fog now enveloped the court as the woman stood in the dock. Her age +was given as twenty-eight; her occupation pickle-making. First let me +picture that woman and then tell her story, for she represents a number +of women into whose forlorn faces I have looked and of whose hopeless +hearts I have an intimate knowledge. + +Some men have conquered evil habits, helped by the love of a pure +woman, without which they would have vainly struggled or have readily +succumbed. But while I know this, I think of the women who have fastened +the tendrils of their heart's affection round unworthy men, and have +married them, hoping, trusting and believing that their love and +influence would be powerful enough to win the men to sobriety and +virtue. Alas! how mistaken they have been! What they have endured! Of +such was this woman! There she stood, the embodiment of woe. A tall, +refined woman, her clothing poor and sparse, her head enveloped in +surgical bandages. + +In the darkness of the Christmas night she had leaped from the wall of a +canal bridge into the murky gloom, her head had struck the bank, and she +rolled into the thick, black water. + +It was near the basin of the Surrey Canal, and a watchman on duty had +pulled her out; she had been taken to a hospital and attended to. Late +in the afternoon the policeman brought her to the court, where a charge +of attempted suicide was brought against her. But little evidence was +taken, and the magistrate ordered a week's remand. In the cells I had a +few moments' conversation with her, but all I could get from her was the +pitiful moan, "Why didn't they let me die? why didn't they let me die?" + +In a week's time I saw her again; surgical bandages were gone, medical +attention and a week's food and rest had done something for her, but +still she was the personification of misery. + +I offered to take charge of her, and as she quietly promised not to +repeat the attempt, the magistrate kindly committed her to my care. +So we went to her room: it was a poor place, and many steps we climbed +before we entered it. High up as the room was, and small as were its +dimensions, she, out of the nine shillings she earned at the pickle +factory paid three and sixpence weekly for it. I had gathered from what +she had told me that she was in poverty and distress. So on our way I +brought a few provisions; leaving these and a little money with her, I +left her promising to see her again after a few days. But before leaving +she briefly told me her story, a sad, sad story, but a story to be read +and pondered. + +She was the only daughter of a City merchant, and had one brother. While +she was quite a child her mother died, and at an early age she managed +her father's household. She made the acquaintance of a clever and +accomplished man who was an accountant. He was older than she, and +of dissipated habits. Her father had introduced him to his home and +daughter, little thinking of the consequences that ensued. She had no +mother to guide her, she was often lonely, for her father was immersed +in his business. + +In a very short time she had fixed her heart on to the man, and when +too late her father expostulated, and finally forbade the man the house. +This only intensified her love and led to quarrels with her father. +Ultimately they married, and had a good home and two servants. In a +little over three years two children added to her joys and sorrows. +Still her husband's faults were not amended, but his dissipation +increased. Monetary difficulties followed, and to avoid disgrace her +father was called upon to provide a large sum of money. + +This did not add to his sympathy, but it estranged the father and child. + +Then difficulties followed, and soon her husband stood in the dock +charged with embezzlement. Eighteen months' imprisonment was awarded +him, but the greater punishment fell upon the suffering wife. Her father +refused to see her, so with her two little ones she was left to face the +future. Parting with most of her furniture, jewellery, servant, she gave +up her house, took two small rooms, and waited wearily for the eighteen +months to pass. + +They passed, and her husband came back to her. But his character was +gone, the difficulty of finding employment stared him in the face. + +He joined the ranks of the shabby-genteel to live somehow by bits of +honest work, mixed with a great deal of dishonest work. Four years of +this life, two more children for the mother, increasing drunkenness, +degenerating into brutality on her husband's part. Her father's death +and some little money left to her gave momentary respite. But the money +soon went. Her brother had taken the greater portion and had gone into +a far country. This was the condition of affairs when her husband was +again arrested; this time for forgery. There was no doubt about his +guilt, and a sentence of five years' penal servitude followed. Again she +parted with most of her home, reducing it to one room. + +With her four children round her she tried to eke out an existence. She +soon became penniless, and ultimately with her children took refuge in +a London workhouse. After a time the guardians sent the four children +to their country school and nursing home, when she was free to leave the +workhouse and get her own living. + +She came out with a letter of introduction to the pickle factory, and +obtained employment at nine shillings a week. The weeks and months +passed, her daily task and common round being a mile walk to the +factory, ten hours' work, and then the return journey. One week-end on +her homeward journey she was attracted and excited by a fire; when she +resumed her journey she was penniless, her week's wages had been stolen +from her. Her only warm jacket and decent pair of boots then had to +be pawned, for the rent must be paid. Monday found her again at the +monotonous round, but with added hardships. + +She missed the jacket and the boots, and deprived herself of food +that she might save enough money wherewith to take them out of pawn. +Christmas Eve came, and she had not recovered them. She sat in her room +lonely and with a sad heart, but there was mirth and noise below her, +for even among the poor Bacchus must be worshipped at Christmas time. + +One of the women thought of the poor lone creature up at the top of the +house, and fetched her down. They had their bottles of cheap spirits, +for which they had paid into the publican's Christmas club. She drank, +and forgot her misery. Next morning, when the bells of a neighbouring +church were ringing out, they awoke her as she lay fully dressed on her +little bed. She felt ill and dazed, and by and by the consciousness came +to her of fast night's drinking. Christmas Day she spent alone, ill, +miserable and ashamed. "I must have been drunk!" she kept repeating to +herself, and on Christmas night she sought her death. + +I wrote to kind friends, and interested some ladies in her welfare. +Plenty of clothing was sent for her; a better room, not quite so +near the sky, was procured for her. Her daily walk to the factory was +stopped, for more profitable work was given to her. Finally I left her +in the hands of kind friends that I knew would care for her. + +Two years passed, and on Christmas Eve I called with a present and a +note sent her by a friend. She was gone--her husband had been released +on ticket-of-leave, had found her and joined her, and for a time she +kept him as well as herself. He was more brutal than before, and in his +fury, either drunk or sober, he frequently beat her, so that the people +of the house had to send them away. Where they had moved to, I failed to +find out, but they had vanished! + +Fourteen months passed, and one bitterly cold day in February at the +end of a long row of prisoners, waiting their turn to appear before +the magistrate, stood the woman wretched and ill, with a puling bit of +mortality in her arms. + +She was a "day charge," having been arrested for stealing a pot of +condensed milk. At length she stood before the magistrate, and the +evidence was given that she was seen to take the milk and hurry away. +She was arrested with the milk on her. + +It was believed that she had taken milk from the same place at other +times. When asked what she had to say in extenuation, she held her child +up and said, "I did not take it for myself, I took it for this!" She did +not call it her child. The magistrate looked, shuddered, and sentenced +her to one day. + +So once again I stood face to face with her, and face to face with a big +man who had been waiting for her, who insolently asked me what I wanted +with his wife. I turned from him to the woman, and asked if she would +leave him, for if so I would provide for her. + +Mournfully she shook her head; leave him, no!--to the bitter end she +stood by him. + +So they passed from my view, the educated brute and the despairing, +battered, faithful drudge of a woman, to migrate from lodging-house to +lodging-house, to suffer and to die! + +If all the girls of England could see what I have seen, if they could +take, as I have taken, some measure of the keen anguish and sorrow that +comes from such a step, they would never try the dangerous experiment +of marrying a man in the hope of reforming him. Should, perchance, young +women read this story, let me tell them it is true in every particular, +but not the whole truth, for there are some things that cannot be told. + +Again and again I have heard poor stricken women cry: "How can you! how +can you!" More than once my manhood has been roused, and I have struck a +blow in their defence. + +If there is one piece of advice that, in the light of my experience, +I would like to burn into the very consciousness of young women, it is +this: if they have fastened their heart's love about a man, and find +that thorough respect does not go with that love, then, at whatever +cost, let them crush that love as they would crush a serpent's egg. + +And the same holds good with men: I have known men in moments of passion +marry young women, trusting that a good home and an assured income would +restore them to decency and womanhood--but in vain! I saw a foul-looking +woman far from old sent again to prison, where she had been more than +a hundred times. She had also served two years in an inebriate +reformatory. Fifteen years ago, when I first met her, she was +a fair-looking young woman. Needless to say, I met her in the +police-court. A short time afterwards she came to tell me that she was +married. She had a good home, her husband was in good circumstances, and +knew of her life. A few years of home life, two little children to +call her mother; then back to her sensual ways. Prisons, rescue homes, +workhouses, inebriate reformatories, all have failed to reclaim her, and +she lives to spread moral corruption. + + + +CHAPTER IX. BRAINS IN THE UNDERWORLD + +I hope that, in some of my chapters, I have made it clear that a large +proportion of the underworld people are industrious and persevering. +I want in this chapter to show that many of them have also ability and +brains, gifts and graces. This is a pleasant theme, and I would revel in +it, but for the sorrowful side of it. + +It may seem strange that people living under their conditions should +possess these qualities, but in reality there is nothing strange +about it, for Nature laughs at us, and bestows her gifts upon whom she +pleases, though I have no doubt that she works to law and order if we +only understood. + +But we do not understand, and therefore she appears whimsical and +capricious. I rather expect that even when eugenists get their way and +the human race is born to order, that Dame Nature, the mother of us all, +will not consent to be left out of the reckoning. Be that as it may, it +is certain she bestows her personal gifts among the very poor equally +with the rich. She is a true socialist, and, like Santa Claus, she +visits the homes of the very poor and bestows gifts upon their children. + +Some of the most perfect ladies I have ever met have been uneducated +women living in poverty and gloom. I do not say the most beautiful, for +suffering and poverty are never beautiful. Neither can rings of care +beneath the eyes, and countless furrows upon the face be considered +beautiful. But, apart from this, I have found many personal graces +and the perfection of behaviour among some of the poorest. All this I +consider more wonderful than the possession of brains, though of brains +they are by no means deficient. + +Have you ever noticed how pretty the healthy children of the very poor +are? I am not speaking of unhealthy and feeble children, who are all too +numerous, but of the healthy; for, strange as it may appear, there are +many such, even in the underworld. Where do you find such beautiful +curly hair as they possess? in very few places! It is perfect in its +freedom, texture, colour and curl. Dame Nature has not forgotten +them! Where do you find prettier faces, more sparkling eyes and eager +expressions? Nowhere! And though their faces become prematurely old, +and their eyes become hard, still Dame Nature had not forgotten them at +birth; she, at any rate, had done her best for them. + +Search any families, bring out the hundreds of pretty children, and I +will bring hundreds of children from below the line that will compare +with them in beauty of body, face and hair. But they must be under four +years of age! No! no! the children of the upperworld have not a monopoly +of Dame Nature's gifts. + +And it is so with mental gifts and graces; the poor get a good share of +them, but the pity is they get so little chance of exercising them. +For many splendid qualities wither from disuse or perish from lack of +development. But some survive, as the following stories will prove. + +It was a hot day in June, and, in company with a friend who wished to +learn something about the lives of the very poor, I was visiting in the +worst quarters of East London. + +As we moved from house to house, the thick air within, and the dirt +within and without were almost too much for us. The box-like rooms, the +horrible backyards, the grime of the men, women and children, combined +with the filth in the streets and gutters, made us sick and faint. We +asked ourselves whether it was possible that anything decent, virtuous +or intelligent could live under such conditions? + +The "place" was dignified by the name of a street, although in reality +it was a blind alley, for a high wall closed one end of it. It was very +narrow, and while infants played in the unclean gutters, frowsy women +discussed domestic or more exciting matters with women on the opposite +side. + +They discussed us too as we passed, and audibly commented, though not +favourably, on our business. I had visited the street scores of times, +and consequently I was well known. Unfortunately my address was also +well known, for every little act of kindness that I ventured to do +in that street had been followed by a number of letters from jealous +non-recipients. + +I venture to say that from every house save one I had received begging +or unpleasant letters, for jealousy of each other's benefits was a +marked characteristic of that unclean street. As we entered the house +from which no letter had been received, we heard a woman call to her +neighbour, "They are going to see the old shoemaker." She was correct in +her surmise, and right glad we were to make the old man's acquaintance; +not that he was very old, but then fifty-nine in a London slum may +be considered old age. He sat in a Windsor arm-chair in a very small +kitchen; a window at his back revealed that abomination of desolation, a +Bethnal Green backyard. He sat as he had sat for years, bent and doubled +up, for some kind of paralysis had overtaken him. + +He had a fine head and a pointed beard, his thin and weak neck seemed +hardly able to bear its heavy burden. He was not overclean, and his +clothes were, to say the least, shabby. But there he sat, his wife at +work to maintain him. We stood, for there was no sitting room for us. +Grime, misery and poverty were in evidence. + +He told us that his forefathers were Huguenots, who fled from France +and settled as silk weavers in Spitalfields. He had been apprenticed to +boot- and shoe-making, his particular branch of work having been boots +and shoes for actresses and operatic singers. That formerly he had +earned good money, but the trade declined as he had grown older, and now +for some years he had been crippled and unable to work, and dependent +upon his wife, who was a machinist. + +There did not seem much room for imagination and poetry in his home and +life, but the following conversation took place-- + +"It is a very hard life for you sitting month after month on that chair, +unable to do anything!" "It is hard, I do not know what I should do if +I could not think." "Oh, you think, do you well, thinking is hard +work." "Not to me, it is my pleasure and occupation." "What do you think +about?" "All sorts of things, what I have read mostly." "What have you +read" "Everything that I could get hold of, novelists, poetry, history +and travel." "What novelist do you like best" The answer came prompt +and decisive: "Dickens," "Why?" "He loved the poor, he shows a greater +belief in humanity than Thackeray." "How do you prove that?" "Well, take +Thackeray's VANITY FAIR, it is clever and satirical, but there is only +one good character, and he was a fool; but in Dickens you come across +character after character that you can't help loving." + +"Which of his books do you like best?" "A TALE OF TWO CITIES." "Why?" +"Well, because the French Revolution always appeals to me, and secondly +because I think the best bit of writing in all his books is the +description of Sydney Carton's ride on the tumbrel to the guillotine." +"Have you ever read Carlyle's FRENCH REVOLUTION?" "No" "I will lend it +to you." "If you do, I will read it." + +"How about poetry, what poets do you like?" "The minor poets of two +hundred years ago, Herrick, Churchill, Shenstone and others." "Why do +you like them?" "They are so pretty, so easy to understand, you know +what they mean; they speak of beauty, and flowers and love, their +language is tuneful and sweet." Thus the grimy old shoemaker spoke, but +I continued: "What about the present-day poets?" Swift came the reply, +"We have got none." This was a staggerer, but I suggested: "What about +Kipling?" "Too slangy and Coarse!" "Austin?" "Don't ask me." "What of +Wordsworth, Tennyson and Browning?" "Well, Wordsworth is too prosy, you +have to read such a lot to get a little; Tennyson is a bit sickly +and too sentimental, I mean with washy sentiment; Browning I cannot +understand, he is too hard for me." + +"Now let us talk: about dramatists; you have read Shakespeare?" "Yes, +every play again and again." "Which do you like best?" "I like them all, +the historical and the imaginative; I have never seen one acted, but to +me King Lear is his masterpiece." + +So we left him doubled up in his chair, in his grime and poverty, +lighting up his poor one room with great creations, bearing his heavy +burdens, never repining, thinking great thoughts and re-enacting great +events, for his mind to him was a kingdom. + +The next day my friend sent a dozen well-selected books, but the old +shoemaker never sought or looked for any assistance. + +Only a few doors away we happened on a slum tragedy. We stood in a queer +little house of one room up and one down stairs. Let me picture +the scene! A widow was seated at her machine sewing white buckskin +children's boots. Time, five o'clock in the afternoon; she had sat there +for many hours, and would continue to sit till night was far advanced. + +Suddenly a girl of twelve burst in and threw herself into her mother's +arms, crying, "Oh, mother, mother, I have lost the scholarship! Oh, +mother, the French was too hard for me!" To our surprise the mother +seemed intensely relieved, and said, "Thank God for that!" + +But the girl wept! After a time we inquired, and found that the girl, +having passed the seventh standard at an elementary school, had been +attending a higher grade school, where she had been entered for a +competitive examination at a good class secondary school. If she +obtained it, the widow would have been compelled to sign an agreement +for the girl to remain at school for at least three years. But the widow +was practically starving, although working fourteen hours daily. Verily, +the conflict of duties forms the tragedy of everyday life. The widow was +saved by the advanced French; poor mother and poor girl! + +By and by the girl was comforted as we held the prospective of a bright +future before her, and got her to talk of her studies; she recited for +us a scene from AS YOU LIKE IT, and also Portia's speech, "The quality +of mercy is not strained." + +Standing near was a boy of not more than ten years, who looked as if he +would like to recite for us, and I asked him what standard he was in. +"The sixth, sir." "And do you like English Literature?" He did not +answer the question exactly, but said, "I know the 'Deserted Village,' +by Oliver Goldsmith." + +"Where was the 'Deserted Village'?" "Sweet Auburn was supposed to be +in Ireland, but it is thought that some of the scenes are taken from +English villages." + +"Can you give us the 'Village Schoolmaster'?" And he did, with point +and emphasis. "Now for the 'Village Parson.'" His memory did not fail +or trip, and the widow sat there machining; so we turned to her for more +information, and found that she was a Leicester woman, and her parents +Scots; she had been a boot machinist from her youth. + +Her husband was a "clicker" from Stafford; he had been dead eight years. +She was left with four children. She had another daughter of fourteen +who had done brilliantly at school, having obtained many distinctions, +and at twelve years had passed her "Oxford Local." This girl had picked +up typewriting herself, and as she was good at figures and a splendid +writer, she obtained a junior clerk's place in the City at seven +shillings and sixpence per week. Every day this girl walked to and from +her business, and every day the poor widow managed to find her fourpence +that the girl might have a lunch in London City. + +I felt interested in this girl, so I wrote asking her to come to lunch +with me on a certain day. She came with a book in her hand, one of +George Eliot's, one of her many prizes. A fourpenny lunch may be +conducive to high thinking, may even lead to an appreciation of great +novels: it certainly leaves plenty of time for the improvement of the +mind, though it does not do much for nourishing the body. I found +her exceedingly interesting and intelligent, with some knowledge of +"political economy," well up in advanced arithmetic, and quite capable +of discussing the books she had read. Yet the family had been born in +an apology of a house, they had graduated in the slums, but not in the +gutter. Their widowed mother had worked interminable hours and starved +as she worked, but no attendance officer had ever been required to +compel her children to school. It would have taken force to keep them +away. But what of their future? Who can say? But of one thing I am very +sure, and it is this: that, given fair opportunity, the whole family +will adorn any station of life that they may be called to fill. + +But will they have that opportunity? Well, the friend that was with me +says they will, and he has commissioned me to act for him, promising +me that if I am taken first and he is left, the cultured family of the +slums shall not go uncared for. And amidst the sordid life of our mean +streets, there are numbers of brilliant children whose God-given talents +not only run to waste, but are actually turned into evil for lack of +opportunity. + +Here and there one and another rise superior to their environment, and +with splendid perseverance fight their way to higher and better life. +And some of them rise to eminence, for genius is not rare even in +Slumdom. + +One of our greatest artists, lately dead, whose work all civilisation +delights to honour, played in a slum gutter, and climbed a lamp-post +that he might get a furtive look into a school of art. + +All honour and good wishes to the rising young, but all glory to the +half-starved widows who shape their characters and form their tastes. +To the old shoemaker good wishes; may the small pension that a friend +of mine has settled on him add to his comfort and his health, may his +beloved minor poets with Dickens and Shakespeare long be dear to him, +and may his poor little home long continue to be peopled with bright +creations that defy the almost omnipotent power of the underworld. + +If any who may read these words would like to do a kind action that will +not be void of good results and sure reward, I would say lend a +helping hand to some poor family where, in spite of their poverty and +surroundings, the children are clean and intelligent, and have made +progress at school. For they are just needing a hand, it may be to help +with their education, or it may be to give them a suitable start in +life. If the mother happens to be a widow, you cannot do wrong. + +If one half of the money that is spent trying to help unhelpable people +was spent in helping the kind of families I refer to in the manner I +describe, the results would be surprising. + +If there is any difficulty in finding such families, I would say apply +to the head mistress or master of a big school in a poor neighbourhood, +they can find them for you. If they cannot, why then I will from among +my self-supporting widow friends. + +But do not, I beseech you, apply to the clergyman of the parish, for he +will naturally select some poor family to whom he has charitably acted +the part of relieving officer. Remember it is brains and grit that you +are in search of, and not poor people only. + +If in every neighbourhood a few people would band themselves together +for this purpose and spend money for this one charitable purpose, it +would of itself, and in reasonable time, effect mighty results. Believe +me, there is plenty of brain power and grit in the underworld that +never gets a chance of developing in a useful direction. Boys and girls +possessing such talents are doomed, unless a miracle happens, for they +have to start in life anyhow and anywhere. + +Nothing is of more importance than a correct start in life for any boy +or girl; but a false start, a bad beginning for the children of the very +poor who happen to possess brain power is fatal. Their talents get no +chance, for they are never used, consequently they atrophy, or, worse +still, are used in a wrong direction and possibly for evil. Good is +changed into evil, bright and useful life is frustrated, and the State +loses the useful power and influence that should result from brains and +grit. + +How can my widow friends, who are unceasingly at work, have either +the time, opportunity or knowledge to find proper openings for their +children? The few shillings that a boy or girl can earn at anything, +or anyhow that is honest, are a great temptation. The commencement +dominates the future! Prospective advantage must needs give place to +present requirements. + +So we all lose! The upperworld loses the children's gifts, character and +service. The underworld retains their poor service for life. + +"It is better," said Milton, "to kill a man than a book." Which may be +true, but probably the truth depends upon the quality of the man and the +book. But what about killing mind, soul, heart, aspirations and every +quality that goes to make up a man? "Their angels do always behold the +face of my Father"; yes, but we compel them to withdraw that gaze, and +look contentedly into the face of evil. + +I am now pleading for the gifted boys and girls of the underworld, not +the weaklings, for of them I speak elsewhere. But I will say, that while +the weaklings are the more hopeless, it is the talented that are the +most dangerous. Let us see to it that their powers have some chance of +developing in a right direction. When by some extraordinary concurrence +of circumstances a Council School boy passes on to a university and +takes a good degree, it is chronicled all over the world; the school, +the teacher, the boy and his parents are all held up for show and +admiration. I declare it makes me ill! Why? Because I know that in the +underworld thousands of men are grubbing, burrowing and grovelling who, +as boys, possessed phenomenal abilities, but whose parents were poor, so +poor that their gifted children had no chance of developing the talent +that was in them. Let us give them a chance! Sometimes here and there +one and another bursts his bonds, and, rejoicing in his freedom, does +brilliant things. But in spite of Samuel Smiles and his self-help they +are but few, though, if the centuries are searched, the catalogue will +be impressive enough. + +Of course there must be self-help. But there must be opportunity also. +There is a great deal of talk about the children of the poor being +"over-educated," and the delinquencies of the youthful poor are +attributed to this bogy. It is because they are under-educated, not +over-educated, that the children of the very poor so often go wrong. + +But the attempt to cast them all in the same mould is disastrous; there +is an over-education going on in this direction. Not all the children of +the poor can be great scholars, but some of them can! Let us give them a +chance. Not all of them can be scientists and engineers, etc., but some +of them have talents for such things! Give them a chance! A good many of +them have unmistakably artistic gifts! Why not give them a chance too! +And the mechanically inclined should have a chance! Why can we not +differentiate according to their tastes and gifts? + +For even then we shall have enough left to be our hewers of wood and +carriers of water; an abundance will remain to do all the work that +requires neither brains nor gifts. + +But let us stop at once and for ever trying to cram thick heads and poor +brains with stuff that cannot possibly be appreciated or understood. Let +us teach their mechanical fingers to do something useful, and give them, +even the degenerates, some chance! + +And we must stop our blind alley occupation for growing lads, for at the +end of the alley stands an open door to the netherworld, and through it +youthful life passes with little prospect of return. + + + +CHAPTER X. PLAY IN THE UNDERWORLD + +It may seem a strange thing, but children do play in the underworld. +They have their own games and their times and seasons too! + +Yet no one can watch them as they play without experiencing feelings +more or less pathetic. There is something incongruous about it that may +cause a smile, but there is also something that will probably cause a +tear. + +For their playgrounds are the gutters or the pavements. Happy are +the children when they can procure a spacious pavement, for in the +underworld wide pavements are scarce; still narrow pavements and gutters +are always to hand. + +It is summer time, the holidays have come! No longer the hum, babble +and shouts of children are heard in and around those huge buildings, the +County Council schools. + +The sun pours its rays into the unclean streets, the thermometer +registers eighty in the shade. Down from the top storey and other +storeys of the blocks the children come, happy in the consciousness that +for one month at least they will be free from school, without dodging +the school attendance officer. + +"Hop-scotch" season has commenced, and as if by magic the pavements of +the narrow streets are covered with chalked lines, geometrical figures +and numerals, and the mysterious word "tod" confronts you, stares at +you, and puzzles you. + +Who can understand the intricacies of "hop-scotch" or the fascination +of "tod"? None but the girls of the underworld. Simple pleasures please +them--a level pavement, a piece of chalk, a "pitcher," the sun overhead, +dirt around, a few companions and non-troublesome babies, are their +chief requirements; for few of these girls come out to play without the +eternal baby. + +Notice first, if you will, how deftly these foster-mothers handle the +babies; their very method tells of long-continued practice. What slaves +these girls are! But they have brought the baby's feeding-bottle, and +also that other fearsome indispensable of underworld infant life, "the +comforter." + +They are going to make a day of it, a mad and merry day, for they have +with them some pieces of bread and margarine to sustain them in the toil +of nursing and the exhaustion of "hop-scotch." + +The "pitcher" is produced, and we notice how punctiliously each girl +takes her proper turn and starts from the correct place; we notice also +the dilapidated condition of their boots, that act as golf clubs and +propel the "pitcher." We wonder how with such boots, curled and twisted +to every conceivable shape, they can strike the "pitcher" at all. There +is some skill in "hop-scotch" played as these girls play it, and with +their "boots" too! + +A one-legged game is "hop-scotch," for the left foot must be held clear +of the pavement, and the "pitcher" must be propelled with the right foot +as the girl "hops." + +If she hops too high and misses it, she is "out"; if she strikes too +hard, and it travels beyond one of the boundaries, she is "out" too; if +she does not propel it far enough, again "out." + +Why, of course there is skill and fascination in it, for it combines the +virtues of golf and baseball, and "tod" is quite as good as a football +goal. And there is good fellowship and self-denial going on, too; not +quite every girl, thank Heaven, is hampered or blessed with a baby, +and we notice how cheerfully they take their turn in nursing while the +foster-mother arrives at "tod." + +The substitute, too, understands the use of the "comforter," for should +it roll in the dirty gutter she promptly returns it to its proper +place, the baby's mouth. Untidy, slatternly girls, not over-clean, not +over-dressed, and certainly not over-fed, we leave them to their play +and their babies. + +Here are a lot of half-naked boys, some standing, some sitting on the +hot pavement; they are playing "cherry hog"; why "hog" I don't know! +Their requisites are a pocketful of cherry stones and a small screw, not +an expensive outfit, for they save the "hogs" when they are permitted +to eat cherries, as sometimes, by the indulgence of a kindly fruiterer, +they are, for he kindly throws all his rotten or unsaleable fruit into +the gutter. + +If these are not to hand, there are plenty of "hogs" to be picked up. As +to the little screw, well, it is easy to get one or steal one. + +The advantage of a screw is that it possesses a flat end, on which it +will stand erect. In this position it is delicately placed so that when +struck by a cherry "hog" it falls. Each boy in turn throws a certain +number of "hogs" at the screw, the successful thrower gathers in the +spoil and goes home with his pocket bursting with cherry "hogs." + +It's an exciting game, but it is gambling nevertheless; why do not the +police interfere? + +Here are some boys playing "buttons"--gambling again! This game is +good practice, too, and a capital introduction to that famous game of +youthful capitalists, "pitch and toss," for it is played in precisely +the same way, only that buttons take the place of half-pennies. + +The road, gutter or pavement will do for "buttons"; a small mark +or "jack" is agreed upon, a line is drawn at a certain distance; +alternately the lads pitch their buttons towards the "jack," three +buttons each. When all have "pitched," the boy whose button is nearest +the "jack" has first toss, that is, he collects all the pitched buttons +in his hand and tosses them; as the buttons lie again on the ground the +lads eagerly scan them, for the buttons that lie with their convex side +upwards are the spoil of the first "tosser." The remaining buttons are +collected by the second, who tosses, and then collects his spoil, and +so on till the buttons are all lost and won. The boy whose buttons are +farthest from "jack" of course gets the last and least opportunity. When +playing for halfpence, "heads or tails" is the deciding factor. + +Why, you say, of course it is a game of skill, just as much as bowls or +quoits; but there are also elements of luck about "pitch and toss" which +gives it an increased attraction. + +Sunday in the underworld is the great day for "pitch and toss," for many +boys have halfpence on that day. They have been at work during the week, +and, having commenced work, their Sunday-school days are at an end. And +having a few halfpence they can indulge their long-continued and fervent +hope of discarding "buttons" and playing the man by using halfpence. + +But how they enjoy it! how intent they are upon it. Sunday morning will +turn to midday, and midday to evening before they are tired of it! Meal +times, or the substitute for meal times, pass, and they remain at it! +always supposing their halfpence last, and the police do not interfere, +the latter being the most likely. + +It takes an interminably long time to dispossess a lad of six halfpence +at this game; fortune is not so fickle as may be supposed. The unskilled +"pitcher" may have luck in "tossing," while the successful "pitcher" may +be an unlucky "tosser." If at the end of a long day they come off pretty +equal, they have had an ideal day. + +But they have had their ups and downs, their alternations of joy and +despair. Sometimes a boy may win a penny; if so, it is evident that +another boy has lost one, and this is sad, though I expect they lose +more coppers to the police than they do to their companions, for the +police harry them and hunt them. Special constables are put on to detect +them, and they know the favourite resorts of the incipient gamblers. +They hunt in couples, too, and they enter the little unclean street at +each end. + +Now for the supreme excitement; they are observed by the watchful eye of +a non-player, who is copperless. There is a rush for the halfpence, +some of which the non-player secures. There's a scamper, but there is no +escape; the police bag them, and innocent boys who join in the scamper +are bagged too. The police search the ground for halfpence, find a few +which they carefully pack in paper, that they may retain some signs +of dirt upon them, for this will be invaluable legal evidence on the +morrow. There is a procession of police, prisoners and gleeful lads who +are not in custody to the nearest police-station. + +On Monday they stand in the dock, when the police with the halfpence and +the dirt still upon them give evidence against them. + +One worthy magistrate will ask them why they were not at home or school. +Another will sternly admonish them upon the evils of street gambling. A +third will tell them that it would have paid them better in health and +pocket to have taken a country walk. But all agree on one point, "that +this street gambling must be put down," and they "put it down," or +attempt to do so, by fining the young ragamuffins five shillings each. + +The excitement of the cells then awaits them, to be followed by a free +ride in "Black Maria," unless "muvver" can pawn something and raise the +money, But many mothers cannot do this, others do not trouble; as to +"farver," well, he does not come in at all, unless it is to give a +"licking" to the boy when he comes out of prison for losing his job and +his wages. + +Truly, the play of the underworld children is exciting enough: there is +danger attaching to it; perhaps that gives a piquancy to it. + +The fascination of "pitch and toss" is felt not only all over England, +where it holds undisputed sway, for it has no real rival, but in America +too! Whilst in America last summer I explored the mean streets of New +York, and not far from the Bowery I found lots of lads at the game. It +was Sunday morning, too, and having some "nickels," I played several +games with them. I was but a poor pitcher, the coins were too light for +me--perhaps I could do better with solid English pennies--but what I +lost in pitching I gained in tossing, so I was not ruined, neither did +the Bowery lads sustain any loss. + +But I found the procedure exactly the same as in England, and I felt the +fascination of it; and some day when I can afford it, I will have a lot +of metal counters made, and I will organise lads into a club; I will +give them "caps," and they shall play where the police won't interfere. + +I will give them trophies to contend for, and Bethnal Green shall +contend with Holloway; a halfpenny "gate" would bring its thousands, and +private gain would give place to club and district "esprit de corps," +for the lads want the game, not the money; the excitement, not the +halfpence. There is nothing intrinsically wrong about "pitch and toss," +only the fact that ragamuffins play it. + +There is a great deal of nonsense talked about the game by superior +people who pose as authorities upon the delinquencies of ragamuffin +youth, and who declaim upon the demoralisation attending this popular +game of poor lads. + +I heard at a meeting of a rich Christian Church, held in a noble hall +in the heart of London's City, one gentleman declare that a smart +ragamuffin youth of his acquaintance possessed a penny with a "head" on +each side for the purpose of enabling him to cheat at this game. + +He did not know what he was talking about, for such pennies would be +as useless for this game as the stones in the streets, for "heads and +tails" are the essence of the game. The boys of the underworld must +play, and ought to play; if those above them do not approve of their +games, well, it is "up to them," as the Americans have it, to find +them better games than pitch and toss, and better playing grounds than +unclean streets. + +Of public parks we have enough; they are very well for sedate and +elderly people. They are useful to foster-mothers, slave girls hugging +babies about, and a boon for nurses with perambulators. But what of +Tom, Dick and Harry, who have just commenced work; what of them? "Boy +Scouting," even with royal patronage, is not for them, for they have +no money to buy uniforms, nor time to scour Epping Forest and Hampstead +Heath for a non-existent enemy. + +Church Lads' Brigade with bishops for patrons, did I hear some one +say? Well, blowing a bugle, no matter how discordantly, is certainly +an attraction for a boy; and wearing a military cap set jauntily on +one side of the head is attractive, too, while the dragging of a +make-believe cannon through the streets may perhaps please others. But +Tom, Dick and Harry from below care for none of these things, for they +are "make-believes," and Tom, Dick and Harry want something real, even +if it is vulgar, something with a strong competitive element in it, even +if it is a little bit rough or wicked. + +Besides Tom, Dick and Harry are not over-clean in person, nor nice +in speech, so they are not wanted. Boy Scouts and Boys' Brigades are +preached at, but Tom, Dick and Harry do not want to be preached at by a +parson, or coddled by a curate. + +They want something real, even though it be punching each other's head, +for that at any rate is real. Give us play, play, real play! is the +cry that is everlastingly rising from the underworld youth. But +the overworld gives them parks and gardens, which are closed at a +respectable hour. But the lads do not go to bed at respectable hours, +for their mothers are still at work and their fathers have not arrived +home. So they play in the streets; then we call them "hooligans," and of +course they must be "put down." + +There is a good deal of "putting down" for the underworld, but it is all +of the wrong sort. For there is no putting down of public playgrounds +for lads of fifteen and upwards open in the evening, lighted by +electricity, and under proper control. Not one in the whole underworld. +So they play in the streets, or rather indulge in what is called +"horse-play." + +But there are youths' clubs! Yes, a few mostly in pokey places, yet they +are useful. But Tom, Dick and Harry want space, room and air, for they +get precious little of these valuable commodities at their work, and +still less in their homes. Watch them if you will, as I have watched +them scores of times in the streets, how foolish, yet how pitiable their +conduct is; you will see that they walk for about two hundred yards and +then walk back again, and then repeat the same walk, till the hours have +passed; they seem to be as circumscribed as caged animals. They walk +within bounds up and down the "monkey's parade." + +How inane and silly their conversation is! Sometimes a whim comes upon +them, and one runs for a few yards; the whim takes possession of others, +and they do exactly the same. One seizes another round the body and +wrestles with him. Immediately the others begin to wrestle too; their +actions are stereotyped, silly and objectionable, even when they do not +quarrel. + +They bump against the people, women included, especially young women. +They push respectable people into the gutters, and respectable people +complain to the police. An extra force is told off to keep order, and to +put Tom, Dick and Harry down. + +Sunday night is the worst night of all! for now these youths are out +in their thousands; certain streets are given up to them, and become +impassable for others. Respectable folk are shocked, and church-going +folk are scandalised! Surely the streets are the property of respectable +people! and yet they cannot pass through them without annoyance. + +At length the street is cleared and patrolled, for respectability must +be protected, not that there has been either violence or robbery. Oh +dear, no! There has only been foolish horse-play by the Toms, Dicks and +Harrys who, having nowhere else to go, and nothing else to do, having, +moreover, been joined by their female counterparts, have been enjoying +themselves in their own way, for they have been "at play." + +It is astonishing how fond of water the unwashed children of the +underworld are! It has an attraction for them, often a fatal attraction, +even though it be thick with dirt and very malodorous. During the summer +time the boys' bathing lakes in Victoria Park are crowded and alive with +youngsters, who splash and flounder and choke, splutter and laugh +in them. They present a sight worth seeing, and teach a lesson worth +remembering. + +The canals of Hoxton, Haggerston and Islington, too, dirty and dangerous +as they are, prove seductive to the boys who live close to them. Now the +police have an anxious time. Again they must look after Tom, Dick and +Harry, for demure respectability must not be outraged by a sight of +their naked bodies. + +So the police keep a sharp outlook for them. Some one kindly informs +them that a dozen boys are bathing in the canal near a certain bridge, +and quickly enough they find them in the very act. There the little +savages are! Some can swim, and some cannot; those that cannot are +standing in the slime near the side, stirring up its nastiness. They see +the policeman advancing, and those that can swim get ashore and run +for their little bits of clothing, tied up in a bundle ready for +emergencies. Into the water again they go for the other side! But, alas! +another policeman is waiting on the other side at the place where they +expected to land, so they must needs swim till another landing place +offers security. But even here they find that escape is hopeless, for +yet another policeman awaits them. + +Those who cannot swim seize their bundles, and, without waiting to +dress, run naked and unashamed along the canal, side, to the merriment +of the bargees, and the joy of the women and girls who happen to have no +son or brother amongst them, for the underworld is not so easily shocked +as the law and its administrators imagine. + +Ultimately they, too, find a policeman waiting for them, and a "good +bag" results. But the magistrate is very lenient; with a twinkle in his +eye he reproves them, and fines them one shilling each, which with great +difficulty their "muvvers" pay. + +But it has been a good day for the police, for four of them have helped +to convey six shillings from the wretchedly poor to the coffers of the +police-court receiver. But when the school holidays come round, that is +the time for the dirty canal to tell its tale, and to give up its dead, +too! + +Read this from the Daily Press, July 16th, 1911-- + +"A remarkable record in life-saving was disclosed at a Bethnal Green +inquest to-day on a child of six, named Browning, who was drowned in the +Regent's Canal on Bank Holiday. + +"Henry H. Terry, an out-of-work carman, said he was called from his +home near by, and raced down to the canal. There was a youth on the bank +holding a stick over the water, apparently waiting for the child to come +up to the surface. + +"The coroner: 'How old was the youth?' 'Well, he stood five feet six +inches, and might have gone in without getting out of his depth. I heard +a woman cry, "Why don't you go in!" I dived in five or six times, but +did not bring up the body.' The witness added that he and his brother +had saved many lives at this spot, the latter having effected as many +as twenty-five rescues in a year. Alfred Terry, a silk weaver, described +the point at which the child was drowned as a veritable death-trap, and +mentioned that he had been instrumental during the past twelve years in +saving considerably over one hundred lives at that spot. + +"'One hot July afternoon in 1900,' he added,'my mother and I had five of +them in the kitchen at one time with a roaring fire to bring them round. +That was during the school holidays; they dropped in like flies.' + +"Accidental death was the verdict." + +But when the little ones play in the gutter, danger lurks very near, as +witness the extract of the same date-- + +"At an inquest at the Poplar coroner's court to-day, on a +three-years'-old girl named Bertiola, it was stated that while playing +with other children she was struck on the head with a tin engine. Three +weeks later she was playing with the same children, and one of them hit +her on the head with the wooden horse. + +"The coroner: 'Two similar blows in a few days, that is very strange.' + +"Dr. Packer said that death was due to cerebral meningitis, the result +of a blow on the head. + +"The coroner: 'I suppose you can't tell which blow caused the trouble' +'No, sir, I am afraid not.' + +"The jury returned a verdict of accidental death." + +But sometimes the boys and girls of the underworld collaborate in their +play, for just now (July) "Remember the grotto! please to remember the +grotto!" is a popular cry. Who has not seen the London grottos he who +knows them not, knows nothing of the London poor. + +I was watching some girls play "hop-scotch" when a boy and girl with +oyster shells in their hands came up to me preferring the usual request, +"Please to remember the grotto!" Holding out their shells as they spoke. + +"Where is your grotto?" I said. "There, sir, over there; come and see +it." Aye! there is was, sure enough, and a pretty little thing it was +in its way, built up to the wall in a quiet corner, glistening with its +oyster shells, its bits of coloured china and surmounted with a little +flag. + +"But where are the candles?" "Oh, sir, we haven't got any yet; we shall +get candles when we get some money, and light them to-night; we have +only just finished it." "Where did you get your shells?" "From the +fish-shops." "Where did you get the pretty bits of china from?" "We +saved them from last year." "Does grotto time come the same time every +year, then" "Oh yes, sir." "How is that?" "'Cos it's the time for it." +"Why do you build grottos" "To get money." "Yes, but why do people give +you money; what do grottos commemorate, don't you know?" "No, sir." + +I looked at a poor half-paralysed boy with sharp face and said, "Well, +my boy, you ought to know; do you go to Sunday School?" "Yes, sir, both +of us; St. James the Less." "Well, I shall not tell you the whole story +to-day, but here is sixpence for you to buy candles with; and next +Sunday ask your teacher to tell you why boys and girls build grottos; +I shall be here this day week, and if you can tell me I will give you a +shilling." + +There were at least six grottos in that street when I got there on +the appointed day. A large crowd of children with oyster shells were +waiting; evidently the given sixpence and the promised shilling had +created some excitement in that corner of Bethnal Green. + +They were soon all round me, and a general chorus arose with hands +outstretched, "Please to remember the grotto! please to remember the +grotto!" I called them to silence, and said, "Can any one tell me why +you build grottos?" There was a general chorus, "To get money, sir." +That was all they knew, and it seemed to them a sufficient reason. + +Turning to the little cripple, I said, "Did you ask your teacher?" +"Yes, sir, but she said it was only children's play; but I bought some +candles, and they are lighted now." + +I said, "Now, children, listen to me, for I am going to tell you about +the beginning of grottos. + +"A good many hundred years ago, when Jesus was on earth, He had two +disciples named James; in after years one was called 'James the Greater' +and the other 'James the Less.' After the death of Jesus, James the +Greater was put to death, and the disciples were scattered, and wandered +into many far countries. James the Less wandered into Spain, telling the +people about Jesus. He lived a good and holy life, helping the poor and +the afflicted. + +"When he died, the people who loved him and reverenced him made a +great funeral, and built him a costly tomb, but instead of putting up a +monument to him, they built a large and beautiful grotto over the place +where his body lay. They lined it with beautiful and costly shells and +other rich things, and lit it with many candles. + +"Thousands of people came to see the grotto, and gave money to buy +candles that it might always be lighted. + +"Every year, on the anniversary of St. James's death, the people came +by thousands to the grotto. One year it was said that a crippled man had +been made quite well while praying at the grotto. This event was told +everywhere, and from that day forth on St. James's Day people came from +many countries, many of them walking hundreds of miles to the grotto. + +"Some of these people were ill and diseased, and others were sick and +blind, and some were cripples. + +"It is said that a good many of them were cured of their afflictions. + +"Now all these poor people that walked slowly and painfully to St. +James's tomb carried big oyster shells, in which they made holes for +cords to pass through, and they placed the cords round their necks. + +"When they came near to people they would hold out their shells and say, +'Please to remember the grotto!' And people gave them money to help them +on their way and to buy candles for the grotto, hoping that the poor +people would get there safely and come back cured. + +"So it came to pass that whenever people saw a man with an oyster shell, +they knew he was going or returning from St. James's tomb in Spain, +and they helped him. The custom of building grottos on St. James's Day +spread to many countries besides Spain. In Russia they build very fine +grottos. At length the custom came to England, and you boys and girls do +what other boys and girls have done for many years in other countries, +and in reality you celebrate the death of a great and good man." + +The children were very silent for a while; the cripple boy looked at me +with tears in his eyes, and I knew what his tears expressed. I gave +him a shilling, but he did not speak; to all the other children who had +built grottos I gave threepence each, and there was joy in that corner +of Bethnal Green. + +There is always something pathetic about play in the underworld. We feel +that there is something wanting in it, perhaps that something would come +into it, if there were more opportunities of real and competitive play. +Keeping shops, or teaching schools may do for girls to play at, but a +lad, if he is any good, wants something more robust. + +I often find cripple boys playing "tip-cat," another game upon which +the law has its eye, or hurrying along on crutches after something that +serves as a football, and getting there in time, too, for a puny kick. +But that kick, little as it is, thrills the poor chap, and he feels that +he has been playing. I am sure that football is going to play a great +part in the physical salvation of Tom, Dick and Harry, but they must +have other places than the streets in which to learn and practise the +game. + +We have heard a great deal about the playing-fields of public schools; +we are told that we owe our national safety to them; perhaps it +is correct, but I really do not know. But this I do know, that the +non-provision of playing-fields, or grounds for the male youthful poor, +is a national danger and a menace to activity, endurance, health and +pluck. + +Nothing saves them now but the freehold of the streets. Rob them of this +without giving them something better, and we shall speedily have a race +of flat-footed, flat-chested, round-shouldered poor, with no brains for +mental work, and no strength for physical work. A race exactly qualified +for the conditions to which we so freely submit it in prison. And above +those conditions that race will have no aspirations. So give them play, +glorious play, manly strife; let their hearts beat, and their chests +expand that they may breathe from their bottom lungs, that their limbs +may be supple and strong, for it will pay the nation to give Tom, Dick +and Harry healthy play. + +And they long for it, do Tom, Dick and Harry! Did you ever see hundreds +of them on a Sunday morning coming up from their lairs in Hoxton, +Shoreditch, Spitalfields and Bethnal Green, to find a field or open +space in the suburbs where they might kick a football? I have seen it +scores of times. A miserable but hopeful sight it is; hopeful because +it bears testimony to the ingrained desire that English lads have for +active healthy play. Miserable because of their appearance, and because +of the fact that no matter what piece of open ground or fields they +may select, they are trespassers, and may be ejected, or remain on +sufferance only. + +Happy are they if they can find a piece of land marked for sale, where +the jerry-builder has not yet commenced a suburban slum. Like a swarm +of locusts they are down on it, and quickly every blade of grass +disappears, "kicked off" as if by magic. + +Old walking-sticks, pieces of lath or old coats and waistcoats serve as +goal-posts. Touch-lines they have none, one playing-ground runs across +the other, and a dozen teams are soon hard at it. They have no caps to +distinguish them, no jerseys or knickers of bright hues. There are no +"flannelled fools" among them, but quickly there are plenty of "muddied +oafs." Trousers much too long are rolled up, coats and vests are +dispensed with, braces are loosed and serve as belts. There is running +to and fro, mud, and poor old footballs are kicked hither and thither. +They knock, kick and shoulder each other, their bare arms and faces are +coated with mud, they fall over the ball and over each other. If they +cannot kick their own ball, they kick one that belongs to another team. +There is much shouting, much laughter and some bad language! and so they +go at it till presently there is a great cheer, for Hoxton has got a +second goal, and Haggerston is defeated. And they keep at it for two +long hours, if they are not interfered with, then back to their lairs +and food. + +All this time good people have been in the churches close by, and the +shouting of the Hoxtonians has disturbed them, and the gentle whisper of +the Haggerstonians has annoyed them. Some of them are scandalised, and +say the police ought to stop such nuisances; perhaps they are right, for +there is much to be said against it. But there is something to be said +on the other side, too; for the natural instinct of English boys must +have an outlet or perish. If it perish they perish too, and then old +England would miss them. + +So let them play, but give them playgrounds! For playgrounds will pay +better than nice, respectable parks. The outlay will be returned in +due time in a big interest promptly paid from the increased vitality, +energy, industry and honesty of our Toms, Dicks and Harrys. So let them +play! + +With much pleasure I quote from the Daily Press, November 24th, the +following-- + +"LEARNING TO PLAY + +"ORGANISED GAMES IN HYDE PARK IN SCHOOL HOURS + +"It is good news that arrangements are being made by the Office of +Works for the use of a part of Hyde Park for organised games under the +direction of the London County Council. Hitherto the only royal parks +in which space has been allotted for this purpose are Regent's Park and +Greenwich Park. But the King, as is well known, takes a keen interest in +all that concerns the welfare of the children, and has gladly sanctioned +the innovation. + +"During the year an increasing number of the elementary schools in +London have taken advantage of the article in the code of regulations +which provides that, under certain conditions, organised games may, if +conducted under competent supervision and instruction, be played during +school hours. Up to the present the London County Council has authorised +the introduction of organised games by 580 departments, 295 boys', 225 +girls', and 60 mixed. + +"The games chiefly played by boys are football, cricket and rounders, +according to the season. Girls enjoy a greater variety, and in addition +to cricket and rounders, are initiated into the mysteries of hockey, +basket ball, target ball, and other ball games. + +"The advantages of the children being taught to get the best exercise +out of the games, and to become skilful in them, are obvious. + +"Arrangements have been made with the various local athletic +associations and consultative committees whereby in each metropolitan +borough there are hon. district representatives (masters and mistresses) +in connection with organised games. Pitches are reserved in over +thirty of the L.C.C. parks and open spaces for the use of schools. The +apparatus required is generally stored at the playing-fields for the +common use of all schools attending, but small articles such as balls, +bats, sticks are supplied to each school. + +"The Council has decided that, so far as practicable, the apparatus for +organised games shall be made at the Council's educational institutes, +and, as a result of this decision, much of it is fashioned at the +handicraft centres." + +This is all for good. But I am concerned for adolescent youth that +has left school--the lads whose home conditions absolutely prevent the +evening hours being spent indoors. Is there to be no provision for them? + + + +CHAPTER XI. ON THE VERGE OF THE UNDERWORLD + +Charles Dickens has somewhere said, "The ties that bind the rich to +their homes may be made on earth, but the ties that bind the poor to +their homes are made of truer metal and bear the stamp of Heaven." And +he adds that the wealthy may love their home because of the gold, silver +and costly things therein, or because of the family history. But that +when the poor love their homes, it is because their household gods +are gods of flesh and blood. Dickens's testimony is surely true, for +struggle, cares, sufferings and anxieties make their poor homes, even +though they be consecrated with pure affection, "serious and solemn +places." + +To me it has always been evident that the heaviest part of the burden +inseparable from a poor man's home falls upon the wife. + +Blessed is that home where the wife is equal to her duties, and doubly +blessed is the home where the husband, being a true helpmate, is anxious +to carry as much of the burden as possible. For then the home, even +though it be small and its floors brick, becomes in all truth "a sweetly +solemn place." It becomes a good training ground for men and women that +are to be. But I am afraid the working men do not sufficiently realise +what heavy, onerous and persistent duties fall upon the wife. With +nerves of brass they do not appreciate the fact that wives may be, and +are, very differently constituted to themselves. Many wives are lonely; +but the husbands do not always understand the gloomy imaginations that +pervade the lonely hours. The physical laws that govern women's personal +health make periods of depression and excitement not only possible, but +certain. + +Let us consider for a moment the life of a poor man's wife in London, +where her difficulties are increased by high rent and a long absence +of the husband. She has the four everlasting walls to look at, eternal +anxieties as to the future, the repeated weekly difficulties of making +ends meet, and too often the same lack of consideration from the +husband. + +The week's washing for the family she must do, the mending and darning +for the household is her task, the children must be washed and clothed +and properly cared for by her. Of her many duties there is no end. + +Sickness in the family converts her into a nurse. She herself must bear +the pangs and sufferings of motherhood, and for that time must make +preparation. For death in the family she must also provide, so the +eternities are her concern. Things present and things to come leave her +little time to contemplate the past. + +Ask me the person of many duties, and I point to the wife of a poor man. + +Thank God, the law of compensation rules the universe, and she is not +exempt from its ruling. She has her compensations doubtless, but I am +seriously afraid not to the extent to which she is entitled, though, +perhaps, they are greater than we imagine. + +Her duties are not always pleasant, for when her husband falls out of +work the rent must be paid, or she must mollify a disappointed landlord. +In many of our London "model" dwellings, if she is likely to have a +fourth child, three being the limit, she must seek a new home. And it +ought to be known that on this account there is a great exodus every +year from some of our London "dwellings." + +It seems scarcely credible, but it is nevertheless a fact, that in some +dwellings she may not keep a cat, a dog, or even a bird, neither may +she have flowers in pots on her window-sills. She is hedged round with +prohibitions, but she is expected to be superior and to abide in staid +respectability on an income of less than thirty shillings per week. And +she does it, though how she does it is a marvel. + +Come with me to visit Mrs. Jones, who lives at 28, White Elephant +Buildings. Mr. Jones is a painter at work for eight months in the year, +if he has good luck, but out of work always at that time of the year +when housekeeping expenses are highest. For every working man's wife +will tell you that coal is always dearer at the time of the year when it +is most required. In White Elephant Buildings there is no prohibition as +to the number of children, or the Jones family would not be there, for +they number eight all told. It is dinner time, and the children are all +in from school, and, being winter time, Jones is at home too! He has +been his wearying round in search of work earlier in the day, and has +just returned to share the midday meal which the mother serves. In all +conscience the meal is limited enough, but we notice that Jones gets an +undue proportion, and we wonder whether the supply will go round. + +We see that the children are next served in their order, the elder +obtaining just a little more food than the younger, and, last of +all--Mrs. Jones. + +It is true that self-denial brings its own reward, for in her case there +is little to reward her in the shape of food. + +To me it is still astonishing, although I have known it for years, +that thousands of poor men's wives go through years of hard work, +and frequent times of motherhood on an amount of food that must be +altogether inadequate. + +Brave women! Aye, brave indeed! for they not only deny themselves food, +but clothing, and all those little personal adornments that are so dear +to the heart of women. There is no heroism to equal it. It only ends +when the children have all passed out of hand, and then it is too late, +for in her case appetite has not been developed with eating, so that +when the day comes that food is more plentiful, the desire for it is +lacking. + +It is small wonder, then, that Mrs. Jones has a careworn look, and does +not look robust. She has been married twelve years, so that every second +year she has borne a child. The dark rings beneath her eyes tell of +protracted hours of work, and the sewing-machine underneath the window +tells us that she supplements the earnings of her husband by making old +clothes into new, and selling them to her neighbours, either for their +children's wear or their own. This accounts for the fact that her +own children are so comfortably clothed. The dinner that we have seen +disappear cost ninepence, for late last evening, just before the cheap +butchers close by shut up for the night, Mrs. Jones bought one pound +and a half of pieces, and, with the aid of two onions and some potatoes, +converted them into a nourishing stew. + +Many times near midnight I have stood outside the cheap butchers' and +watched careful women make their purchases. It is a pitiful sight, and +when one by one the women have made their bargains, we notice that the +shopboard is depleted of its heap of scrags and odds and ends. + +So day by day Mrs. Jones feeds her family, limiting her expenditure to +her purse. And, truth to tell, Jones and the little Joneses look well +on it. But two things in addition to the rent test her managing powers. +Boots for the children! and coal for the winter! The latter difficulty +she gets over by paying one shilling per week into a coal club all the +year through. When Jones is in work she buys extra coal, but when the +winter comes she draws upon her reserves at the coal merchant's. + +But the boots are more difficult. To his credit let it be said that +Jones mends the family's boots. That is, he can "sole and heel," though +he cannot put on a patch or mend the uppers. But with everlasting +thought for the future, Mrs. Jones makes certain of boots for the +family. Again a "club" is requisitioned, and by dint of rigid management +two shillings weekly pass into a shoemaker's hands, and in their turn +the family gets boots; the husband first, the children one by one, +herself last--or never! + +Week by week she lives with no respite from anxiety, with no surcease +from toil. By and by the eldest boy is ready for work, and Mrs. Jones +looks forward to the few shillings he will bring home weekly, and builds +great things upon it. Alas! it is not all profit; the boy must have +a new suit, he requires more food, and he must have a little spending +money, "like other boys"; and though he is a good lad, she finds +ultimately that there is not much left of Tom's six shillings. + +Never mind! on she goes, for will he not get a rise soon and again +expectation encourages her. + +So the poor woman, hampered as she is with present cares, looks forward +to the time when life will be a bit easier, when the united earnings of +the children will make a substantial family income. Oh, brave woman! it +is well for her to live in hope, and every one who knows her hopes too +that disappointment will not await her, and that her many children will +"turn out well." + +Mrs. Jones is typical of thousands of working men's wives, and such +women demand our admiration and respect. What matter though some of them +are a bit frowsy and not over-clean? they have precious little time +to attend to their personal adornment. I ask, who can fulfil all their +duties and remain "spick-and-span"? + +"Nagging," did I hear some one say? My friend, put yourself in her +place, and imagine whether you would remain all sweetness and courtesy. +Again I say, that I cannot for the life of me understand how she can +bear it all, suffering as she does, and yet remain so patient and so +hopeful. + +Add to the duties I have enumerated the time when sickness and death +enter the home. Mrs. Grundy has declared that even poor people must put +on "mourning," and must bury their dead with excessive expenditure, and +Mrs. Grundy must be obeyed. + +But what struggles poor wives make to do it! but a "nice" funeral is +a fascinating sight to the poor. So thousands of poor men's wives deny +themselves many comforts, and often necessaries, that they may for +certain have a few pounds, should any of their children die. Religiously +they pay a penny or twopence a week for each of their children to some +industrial insurance company for this purpose. + +A few pounds all at once loom so large that they forget all the toil, +stress and self-denial they have undergone to keep those pence regularly +paid. Decent "mourning" and "nice funerals" are greatly admired, for if +a working man's wife accepts parish aid at such time, why then she has +fallen low indeed. + +And for the time when a new life comes into light, the poor man's wife +must make provision. At this time anxiety is piled upon anxiety. There +must be no parish doctor, no parish nurse; out of her insufficient +income she makes weekly payments to a local dispensary that during +sickness the whole household may be kept free of doctor's bills. An +increased payment for herself secures her, when her time comes, from +similar worry. But the nurse must be paid, so during the time of her +"trouble" the poor woman screws, schemes and saves a little money; money +that ought in all truth to have been spent upon herself, that a weekly +nurse may attend her. But every child is dearer than the last, and the +wonderful love she has for every atom of humanity born to her repays all +her sufferings and self-denial. + +So I ask for the poor man's wife not only admiration and consideration, +but, if you will, some degree of pity also. I would we could make her +burdens easier, her sorrows less, and her pleasures more numerous. Most +devoutly I hope that the time may soon arrive when "rent day" will +be less dreaded, and when the collector will be satisfied with a less +proportion of the family's earnings. For this is a great strain upon +the poor man's wife, a strain that is never absent! for through times +of poverty and sickness, child birth and child death, persistently and +inexorably that day comes round. Undergoing constant sufferings and +ceaseless anxieties, it stands to the poor man's wife's credit that +their children fight our battles, people our colonies, uphold the credit +of our nation, and perpetuate the greatness of the greatest empire the +world has ever known. + +But Mrs. Jones' eldest girl has a hard time too! for she acts as nurse +and foster-mother to the younger children. It was well for her that Tom +was born before her or she would have nursed him. Perhaps it was well +for Tom also that he got the most nourishment. As it is the girl has her +hands full, and her time is more than fully occupied. She goes to +school regularly both Sunday and week-day. She passes all her standards, +although she is not brilliant. She washes the younger children, she +nurses the inevitable baby, she clears the "dinner things" away at +midday, and the breakfast and tea-cups in their turn. She sits down to +the machine sometimes and sews the clothing her mother has cut out and +"basted." She is still a child, but a woman before her time, and Mrs. +Jones and all the young Joneses will miss her when she goes "out." + +When that time comes, Mrs. Jones will not be so badly put to it as +she was when Tom went "out." For she has been paying regularly into a +draper's club, and with the proceeds a quantity of clothing material +will be bought. So Sally's clothing will be made at home, and Sally and +her mother will sit up late at night to make it. + +It is astonishing how "clubs" of all descriptions enter into the lives +of the poor. There is, of course, the "goose club" for Christmas, for +the poor make sure of one good meal during the year. Some of them are +extravagant enough to join "holiday clubs," but this Mrs. Jones cannot +afford, so her clubs are limited to her family's necessities, excepting +the money club held at a neighbour's house into which she pays one +shilling weekly. This club consists of twenty members, who "draw" +for choice. Thus once in twenty weeks, sooner or later, Mrs. Jones is +passing rich, for she is in possession of twenty shillings all at once. + +There is some discussion between Sally and her mother as to the spending +of it; Tom's first suit was bought by this means, and Jones himself is +not forgotten; but for Mrs. Jones no thought is given. + +The planning, scheming and contrivance it takes to run a working man's +home, especially when the husband has irregular work, is almost past +conception, and the amount of self-denial is extraordinary. + +But it is the wife who finds the brains and exercises the self-denial. +Her methods may be laughed at by wiser people, for there is some +wastage. The friendly club-keeper must have a profit, and the possession +of wealth represented by a whole sovereign costs something. But when +Mrs. Jones gets an early "draw," she exchanges her "draw" for a later +one, and makes some little profit. + +Oh, the scheming and excitement of it all, for even Mrs. Jones cannot do +without her little "deal." But what will Sally settle down to? Now comes +the difficulty and deciding point in her life, and a critical time it +is. + +Mrs. Jones has not attended a mother's meeting, she has been too busy; +church has not seen much of her except at the christenings; district +visitors and clergymen have not shown much interest in her; Jones +himself is almost indifferent, and quite complacent. + +So Sally and her mother discuss the matter. The four shillings weekly +to be obtained in a neighbouring factory are tempting, but the girls are +noisy and rude; yet Sally will be at home in the evenings and have +time to help her mother, and that is tempting too! A neighbouring +blouse-maker takes girls to teach them the trade, and Sally can machine +already, so she will soon pick up the business; that looks nice too, but +she would earn nothing for the first three months, so that is ruled out. +Domestic service is thought of, but Sally is small for her age, and +only fourteen; she does not want to be a nurse girl; she has had enough +nursing--she has been a drudge long enough. + +So to the factory she goes, though Mrs. Jones has her misgivings, and +gives her strong injunctions to come straight home, which of course +Sally readily promises, though whether that promise will be strictly +kept is uncertain. But her four shillings are useful in the family +exchequer; they are the deciding factor in Sally's life! + +So on through all the succeeding years of the developing family life +comes the recurring anxiety of getting her children "out." These +anxieties may be considered very small, but they are as real, as +important, and as grave as the anxieties that well-to-do people +experience in choosing callings or professions for sons and daughters to +whom they cannot leave a competency. + +And all this time the family are near, so very near to the underworld. +The death of Jones, half-timer as he is, would plunge them into it; and +the breakdown or death of Mrs. Jones would plunge them deeper still. + +What an exciting and anxious life it really is! Small wonder that +many descend to the underworld when accident overtakes them. But for +character, grit, patience and self-denial commend me to such women. All +honour to them! may their boys do well! may their girls in days to come +have less anxieties and duties than fall to the lot of working men's +wives of to-day. + + + +CHAPTER XII. IN PRISONS OFT + +If every chapter in this book is ignored, I hope that this one will be +read thoughtfully. For I want to show that a great national wrong, a +stupidly cruel wrong, exists. + +Probably all injustice is stupid, but this wrong is so foolish, that +any man who thinks for one moment upon it will wonder how it came into +existence. + +I have written and spoken about it so often that I am almost ashamed of +returning to the subject. Yet all our penal authorities, from the Home +Secretary downwards, know all there is to be known about it. + +I am going, then, to reiterate a serious charge! It is this: no boy from +eight years of age up to sixteen, unless sound in mind and body, can +find entrance into any reformatory or industrial school! No matter how +often he falls into the hands of the police, or what charges may be +brought against him, not even if he is friendless and homeless. Again, +no youthful prisoner under twenty-one years of age, no matter how bad +his record, is allowed the benefit of Borstal training unless he, too, +be sound in mind and body. This is not only an enormity, but it is also +a great absurdity; for it ultimately fills our prisons with weaklings, +and assures the nation a continuous prison population. + +It seems very extraordinary that prison and prison alone should be +considered the one and only place suitable for the afflicted children of +the poor when they break any law, but so it is. + +The moral hump is tolerated, even patronised in reformative +institutions, but the physical hump, never! + +Cunning, dishonesty and rascality generally may be tolerated, but +feebleness of mind or infirmity of body never! All through our penal +administration and prison discipline this principle prevails, and is +strictly acted upon. + +Let me put it briefly; prison, and prison only, is the one and only +place for afflicted youth when it happens to break one or the other of +our laws. + +We have numerous institutions, half penal and half educative, that exist +absolutely for the purpose of receiving homeless, wayward or criminally +inclined youthful delinquents. + +These institutions, I say, although kept going from public funds, +refuse, absolutely refuse, to give training to any youthful delinquent +who suffers from physical infirmity or mental weakness. + +Think of it again! all youthful delinquents suffering from any infirmity +of body or mind, are refused reformative treatment or training in all +publicly supported institutions established for delinquent youth. + +He may be a thief, but if he is a hunchback they will have none of him. +He may be a danger to other children, if he has fits he will not be +received. He may rob the tills of small shopkeepers, but if he is lame, +half-blind, has heart disease, or if his brain is not sound and his body +strong, if he has lost a hand, got a wooden leg, if he suffers from any +disease or deprivation, prison, and prison only, is the place for him. +So to prison the afflicted one goes if over fourteen; if under fourteen +back to his home, to graduate in due time for prison. + +This is no exaggeration, it is a true picture, and this procedure has +gone on till our prisons have become filled with broken and hopeless +humanity. + +Could any one ever suggest a more disastrous course than this? Why, +decency, pity, or just a grain of common sense ought to teach us, and +would teach us if we thought for a moment, that it is not only wrong but +supremely foolish. + +For there is a very close connection between neglected infirmity, mental +or physical, and crime, a connection that ought to be considered, and +few questions demand more instant attention. Yet no question is more +persistently avoided and shelved by responsible authorities, for no +means of dealing with the defective in mind or body when they commit +offences against the law, other than by short terms of useless +imprisonment, have at present been attempted or suggested. It seems +strange that in Christianised, scientised England such procedure should +continue even for a day, but continue it does, and to-day it seems as +little likely to be altered as it was twenty years ago. Let me +then charge it upon our authorities that they are responsible for +perpetuating this great and cruel wrong. They are not in ignorance, +for the highest authorities know perfectly well that every year +many hundreds of helpless and hopeless degenerates or defectives are +committed to prison and tabulated as habitual criminals. Our authorities +even keep a list on which is placed the names of these unfortunates who, +after prolonged experience and careful medical examinations, are found +to be "unfit for prison discipline." + +This list is of portentous length, and to it four hundred more names are +added every year. This is of itself an acknowledgment by the State that +every year four hundred unfortunate human beings who cannot appreciate +the nature and quality of the acts they have committed, are treated, +punished and graded as criminals. Now the State knows perfectly well +that these unfortunates need pity, not punishment; the doctor, not the +warder; and some place where mild, sensible treatment and permanent +restraint can take the place of continual rounds of short imprisonment +alternated with equally senseless short spells of freedom. + +No! not freedom, but a choice between starvation, prison or workhouse. +Now this list grows, and will continue to grow just so long as the +present disastrous methods are persisted in! + +Why does this list grow? Because magistrates have no power to order +the detention of afflicted youthful offenders in any place other than +prison; they cannot commit to reformatory schools only on sufferance and +with the approval of the school managers, who demand healthy boys. + +So ultimately to prison the weaklings go, and an interminable round +of small sentences begins. But even in prison they are again punished +because of their afflictions, for only the sound in mind and body are +given the benefit of healthy life and sensible training. + +Consequently in prison they learn little that can be of service to +them; they only graduate in idleness, and prison having comforts but +no terrors, they quickly join the ranks of the habitues. When it is too +late they are "listed" as not suitable for prison treatment. Year by +year in a country of presumably sane people this deplorable condition +of things continues, and I am bold enough to say that there will be no +reduction in the number of our prison population till proper treatment, +training, and, if need be, detention, is provided in places other than +prison for our afflicted youthful population when they become offenders +against the law. + +But reformatory and industrial schools have not only power to refuse +youthful delinquents who are unsound in mind or body; they have also the +power to discharge as "unfit for training" any who have managed to +pass the doctor's examination, whose defects become apparent when under +detention. + +From the last Official Report of Reformatory Schools in England and +Wales I take the following figures-- + +During the years 1906-7-8 14 imbeciles (males) were discharged on +licence from reformatory schools; and during the same three years no +less than 93 (males) were discharged by the Home Secretary's permission +as "unfit for physical training." The 14 imbeciles in the Official +Report are classified as dead, and the 93 physically unfit are included +among them "not in regular employment." + +For the same period of years I find that 28 (girls) were discharged from +English reformatory schools as being physically unfit. + +The Official Report of Industrial Schools includes England, Wales and +Scotland, and for the same three years I find that 13 (males) were +discharged from industrial schools as being imbeciles, and 116 (males) +as being "unfit for physical training." + +Strange to say, in the Annual Report the physically unfit are included +among those "in casual employment," and the imbeciles are included among +the "dead." + +From the same Official Report we have the statement that in one year, +1909, in England and Scotland 991 (males) and 20 (females) who had been +discharged from reformatory schools were re-convicted and committed to +prison. + +How many of them were mentally or physically defective we have no means +of knowing, for no information is given upon this point; but there is +not the slightest doubt that a large number of them were weak-minded, +though not sufficiently so to allow them being classified as imbeciles. + +The terrible consequence of this procedure may also be gathered from +the Report of the Prison Commissioners for England and Wales 1910, from +which it appears that during the year 157 persons were certified +insane among the prisoners in the local and convict prisons, Borstal +institutions and of State reformatories, during the year ending March +31, 1910. + +In addition to the above there were 290 (213 males and 77 females) +cases of insanity in remanded and other unconvicted prisoners dealt +with during the year, including 14 males and 2 females found "insane on +arraignment," and 173 males and 65 females found insane on remand +from police or petty sessional courts. There were 30 (20 males and 10 +females) prisoners found "guilty" but "insane" at their trial. + +But the most illuminating report comes from the medical officer at +Parkhurst Convict Prison; these are his words-- + +Weak-minded convicts and others whose mental state is doubtful continue +to be collected here. The special rules for their management are adhered +to. The number classified as weak-minded at the end of the year was +117, but in addition there were 34 convicts attached to the parties of +weak-minded for further mental observation. + +"The conduct and tractability of these prisoners naturally vary with the +individual; a careful consideration of the history of each of the 117 +classified weak-minded convicts indicates that about 64 are fairly +easily managed, the remainder difficult to deal with, and a few are +dangerous characters. + +CLASSIFICATION OF WEAK-MINDED CONVICTS:-- + + (a) Congenital deficiency:- + 1. With epilepsy . . . . . . 9 + 2. Without epilepsy. . . . . . 46 + (b) Imperfectly developed stage of insanity 18 + (c) Mental debility after attack of insanity 8 + (d) Senility . . . . . . 2 + (e) Alcohol . . . . . . 6 + (f) Undefined . . . . . . 28 + ----- + 117 + ===== + +"The following is a list of the crimes of the classified weak-minded for +which they are undergoing their present sentences of penal servitude, +and the number convicted for each type of crime-- + + False pretences . . . . . . . 3 + Receiving stolen property . . . . . 3 + Larceny . . . . . . . 18 + Burglary . . . . . . . 7 + Shop-breaking, house-breaking, etc. . . . 19 + Uttering counterfeit coins . . . . . 1 + Threatening letters . . . . . . 4 + Threatening violence to superior officer. . 1 + Robbery with violence . . . . . . 3 + Manslaughter . . . . . . . 6 + Wounding with intent. . . . . . . 8 + Grievous bodily harm. . . . . . . 2 + Attempted murder . . . . . . . 1 + Wilful murder . . . . . . . . 7 + Rape . . . . . . . . . 5 + Carnal knowledge of little girls. . . . 8 + Arson . . . . . . . . . 15 + Cattle maiming . . . . . . . . 1 + Placing obstruction on railway . . . . 2 + Unnatural offences . . . . . . . 3 + +"During the year 35 convicts were certified insane; of these 27 were +removed to the criminal asylum at Parkhurst, 2 to Broadmoor asylum, 3 to +county or borough asylums, and 3 remained in the prison infirmary at the +end of the year. + +"The average length of the last sentences for which these unfortunates +were committed was seven years' penal servitude each. That their mental +condition was not temporary but permanent may be gathered from their +educational attainments, for 12 had no education at all, 18 were only in +Standard I, 29 in Standard II, 15 in Standard III, and 12 others were of +poor education." + +The statement that the average length of the last sentences of these +unfortunates was seven years' penal servitude is appalling. It ought to +astound us! But no one seems to care. Penal servitude is good enough +for them. Perhaps it is! But it ought to be called by another name, +and legally signify the inmates to be "patients," not criminals. Let us +visit a prison where we shall find a sufficient number of prisoners to +enable us to form an idea as to their physical and mental condition. + +Come, then, on Sunday morning into a famous prison that long stood as a +model to the world. We are going to morning service, when we shall have +an opportunity of seeing face to face eight hundred male prisoners. But +before we enter the chapel, let us walk round the hospital and see those +who are on the sick list. + +One look as we enter the ward convinced us that some are lying there +whose only chance of freedom is through the gates of death. + +In yonder corner lies a young man of twenty-one years; the governor +tells us that he is friendless, homeless, and a hopeless consumptive. He +says, "We would have sent him out, but he has nowhere to go, for he +does not know his parish, so he must lie here till he dies, unless his +sentence expires first." + +We speak to the young man a few kindly words, but he turns his face from +us, and of his history we learn nothing. + +On another bed we find an old man whose days also will be short; of +his history we learn much, for he has spent a great deal of his life in +prison, and now, aged, feeble and broken, there is nothing before him +but death or continued imprisonment. We pass by other beds on which +prisoners not so hopeless in health are lying. We see what is the matter +with most of them: they are not strong enough for ordinary prison work, +or indeed for any kind of vigorous labour. So they remain in prison well +tended in the hospital. But some of them pass into freedom without +the slightest ability or chance of getting a living otherwise than by +begging or stealing. + +What strikes us most about the inmates of the prison hospital is the +certainty that many of the prisoners have not sufficient health and +strength to enable them to be useful citizens. + +So we pass through the hospital into the chapel, and find eight hundred +prisoners before us. The organ plays, the morning service is read by the +chaplain; the prisoners sing, and as they sing there is such a volume of +sound that we cannot fail to be touched with it. + +We enter the pulpit, and as we stand and look down upon that sea of +upturned faces, we see a sight that is not likely to be forgotten. +There, in front of us, right underneath the pulpit, are rows of young +men under twenty-two years of age; we look at them; they are all clad in +khaki, and we take a mental sketch of them. + +One or two among them are finely developed young men, but the great +bulk we see are small in stature and weak in body. Some of them have +a hopeless expression of countenance that tells us of moral and mental +weakness. + +We note that most of them can have had but little chance in life, and +that their physical or mental infirmities come from no fault of their +own. They have all been to school; they have started in life, if it can +be called starting, as errand boys, paper sellers in the streets, or +as street merchants of some description. They have grown into early +manhood, but they have not increased in wisdom or stature. They have +learned no occupation, trade or handicraft; they have passed from school +age to early manhood without discipline, decent homes or technical +training. + +When at liberty their homes are lodging-houses or even less desirable +places. So they pass from the streets to the police, from police-courts +to prison, with positive regularity. + +They behave themselves in prison, they obey orders, they do the bit +of work that is required of them, they eat the food, and they sleep +interminable hours away. + +At the back of the young men we see row after row of older men, and +their khaki clothing and broad arrows produce a strange impression upon +us; but what impresses us most is the facial and physical appearance of +the prisoners. + +Cripples are there, twisted bodies are there, one-armed men are there, +and blind men are there. Here and there we see a healthy man, with +vigour and strength written on his face; but the great mass of faces +strikes us with dismay, and we feel at once that most of them are +handicapped In life, and demand pity rather than vengeance. + +We know that they are not as other men, and we realise that their +afflictions more than their sins are responsible for their presence in +that doleful assembly. + +Yet some of them are clever in crime, and many of them persistent in +wrong-doing, but their afflictions were neglected in days when those +afflictions should have been a passport to the pity and care of the +community. + +We see men who have grown old in different prisons, and we know that +position in social and industrial life is impossible for them. + +We see a number whom it is evident are not mentally responsible, for +whom there is no place but the workhouse or prison; yet we realise that, +old as they are, the day of liberty must come once more, and they will +be free to starve or steal! + +We know that there are some epileptics among them, and that their dread +complaint has caused them to commit acts of violence. + +We see among them men of education that have made war upon society. +Drunkards, too, are there, and we know that their overmastering passion +will demand gratification when once again the opportunity of indulging +in its presented to them. So we look at this strange mass of humanity, +and as we look a mist comes over our eyes, and we feel a choking +sensation in our throats. + +But we look again, and see that few throughout this great assembly show +any sense of sorrow or shame. As we speak to them of hope, gladness, of +manliness, and of the dignity of life, we feel that we are preaching to +an east wind. Come round the same prison with me on a week-day; in +one part we find a number of men seated about six feet from each other +making baskets; warders are placed on pedestals here and there to keep +oversight. + +We walk past them, and notice their slow movements and see hopelessness +written all over them. They are working "in association," they are +under "observation," which, the governor tells us, means that they are +suspected of either madness or mental deficiency. + +As we look at them we are quite satisfied that this suspicion is true, +and that, if not absolutely mad, they are mentally deficient. + +If absolute madness be detected, they will be sent to asylums. If +feeble-mindedness be proved, they will again be set at liberty. Their +names will be placed on a list, and they will be declared "unfit +for prison discipline," but nothing more will be done. They will be +discharged to prowl about in the underworld, to commit other criminal +acts and to be returned again and again to prison, to live out hopeless +lives. + +And there is another cause, almost as prolific in producing a prison +population. For while the State has been, and still is, ready to thrust +afflicted youth into prison, it has been, and still is, equally ready to +thrust into prison the half-educated, half-fed, and half-employed young +people who break its laws or by-laws. It is true that the State in its +irony allows them the option of a fine; but the law might as well ask +the youths of the underworld to pay ten pounds as ask them to pay ten +shillings; nor can they procure all at once the smaller sum, so to +prison hundreds of lads are sent. + +Does it ever occur to our esteemed authorities that this is a most +dangerous procedure! What good can possibly come either to the State or +to the youthful offender? + +What are the offences of these boys? Disorder in the streets, loitering +at railway stations, playing a game of chance called "pitch and toss," +of which I have something to say in another chapter, gambling with a +penny pack of cards, playing tip-cat, kicking a football, made of old +newspapers maybe, playing cricket, throwing stones, using a catapult, +bathing in a canal, and a hundred similar things are all deemed worthy +of imprisonment, if committed by the youngsters of the world below the +line. + +Thousands of lads have had their first experience of prison for +trumpery offences that are natural to the boys of the poor. But a first +experience of prison is to them a pleasant surprise. They are astonished +to find that prison is not "half a bad place." They do not object to +going there again, not they! Why? Because the conditions of prison life +are better, as they need to be, than the conditions of their own homes. +The food is better, the lodging is better, the bed is decidedly better, +and as to the work, why, they have none worthy of the name to do. They +lose nothing but their liberty, and they can stand that for a week or +two, what matters! + +Well, something does matter, for they lose three other things of +great moment to them if they only knew; but they don't know, and our +authorities evidently consider these three things of no moment. What do +they lose? First, their fear of prison; secondly, their little bit +of character; thirdly, their work, if they have any. What eventuates? +Idleness, hooliganism and repeated imprisonments for petty crime, until +something more serious happens, and then longer sentences. Such is the +progress of hundreds whom statisticians love to call "recidivists." + +Am I wrong when I say that the State has been too ready, too prompt in +sending the youths of the ignorant poor to prison? Am I wrong in saying +that the State has been playing its "trump ace" too soon, and that it +ought to have kept imprisonment up its sleeve a little longer? These +lads, having been in prison, know, and their companions know, too, the +worst that can happen to them when they commit real crime. Prison has +done its worst, and it cannot hurt them. + +If prisons there must be, am I wrong in contending that they should be +reserved for the perpetrators of real and serious crime; and that the +punishment, if there is to be punishment, should be certain, dignified +and severe, educational and reformative? At present it includes none of +these qualities. + +To such a length has the imprisonment of youths for trumpery offences +gone, not only in London, but throughout the country, that visiting +justices of my acquaintance have spent a great deal of money in part +paying the fines of youths imprisoned under such conditions, that they +might be released at once. Here we have a curious state of affairs, +magistrates generally committing youths to prison in default for +trumpery offences, and other magistrates searching prisons for +imprisoned youths, paying their fines, setting them free, and sending on +full details to the Home Secretary. + +It would be interesting to know how many "cases" of this kind have been +reported to the Home Secretary during the last few years. Time after +time the governors of our prisons have called attention to this evil in +their annual reports. They know perfectly well the disaster that attends +the needless imprisonment of boys, and it worries them. They treat +the boys very kindly, all honour to them! But even kindness to young +prisoners has its dangers, and every governor is able to tell of the +constant return of youthful prisoners. + +I do not like the "birch" or corporal punishment at all. I do not +advocate it, but I am certain that the demoralising effect of a few' +days' imprisonment is far in excess of the demoralisation that follows a +reasonable application of the birch. + +But the birch cannot be applied to lads over fourteen years of age, so +it would be well to abolish it altogether, except in special cases, +and for these the age might with advantage be extended. And, after all, +imprisonment itself is physical punishment and a continued assault +upon the body. But why imprison at all for such cases? We talk about +imprisonment for debt; this is imprisonment for debt with a vengeance. +Look! two lads are charged with one offence or two similar offences; +one boy is from the upperworld, the other from below the line. The same +magistrate fines the two boys an equal amount; the one boy pays, or +his friends pay; but the other goes of a certainty to prison. Is it not +absurd! rather, is it not unjust? + +But whether it is absurd or unjust the result is certain--mathematically +certain--in the development of a prison population. + +During my police-court days I have seen hundreds of youths sitting +crying in their cells consumed with fear, waiting their first experience +of prison; I have seen their terror when first entering the prison van, +and I know that when entering the prison portals their terror increased. +But it soon vanished, for I have never seen boys cry, or show any signs +of fear when going to prison for the second time. The reason for this +I have already given: "fear of the unknown" has been removed. This fear +may not be a very noble characteristic, but it is part of us, and it has +a useful place, especially where penalties are likely to be incurred. + +For many years I have been protesting against this needless imprisonment +of youths, and now it has become part of my duty to visit prisons and to +talk to youthful prisoners, I see the wholesale evil that attends this +method of dealing with youthful offenders. And the same evils attend, +though to perhaps a less degree, the prompt imprisonment of adults, who +are unable to pay forthwith fines that have been imposed upon them. + +It is always the poor, the very poor, the people below the line that +suffer in this direction. Doubtless they merit some correction, and the +magistrates consider that fines of ten shillings are appropriate, but +then they thoughtlessly add "or seven days." + +Think of the folly of it! because a man cannot pay a few shillings +down, the State conveys him to prison and puts the community to the +very considerable expense of keeping him. The law has fined him, but he +cannot pay then, so the law turns round and fines the community. + +What sense, decency, or profit can there possibly be in committing women +to prison, even for drunkenness, for three, five or seven days? How can +it profit either the State or the woman? It only serves to familiarise +her with prison. + +I could laugh at it, were it not so serious. Just look at this +absurdity! A woman gets drunk on Thursday, she is charged on Friday. +"Five shillings, or three days!" On Friday afternoon she enters prison, +for the clerk has made out a "commitment," and the gaoler has handed +her into the prison van. Her "commitment" is handed to the prison +authorities; it is tabulated, so is she; but at nine o'clock next +morning she is discharged from prison, for the law reckons every part of +a day to be a complete day; and the law also says that there must be no +discharge from prison on a Sunday, and to keep her till Monday would be +illegal, for it would be "four days." How small, how disastrous, and how +expensive it is! + +If offenders, young or old, must be punished, let them be punished +decently. If they ought to be sent to prison, to prison send them. +But if their petty offences can be expunged by the payment of a few +shillings, why not give them a little time to pay those fines? Such +a course would stop for ever the miserable, deadly round of short +expensive imprisonments. I have approached succeeding Home Secretaries +upon this matter till I am tired; succeeding Home Secretaries have sent +memorandums and recommendations to courts of summary jurisdiction till, +I expect, they are tired, for generally they have had no effect in +mitigating the evil. + +Magistrates have the power to grant time for the payment of fines, but +it is optional, not imperative. It is high time for a change, and surely +it will come, for the absurdity cannot continue. + +Surely every English man and woman who possesses a settled home ought +to have, and must have, the legal right of a few days' grace in which to +pay his or her fine. And every youthful offender ought to have the same +right, also, even if he paid by instalments. + +But at present it is so much easier, and therefore so much better, to +thrust the underworld, youthful and adult, into prison and have done +with them, than it is to pursue a sane but a little bit troublesome +method that would keep thousands of the poor from ever entering prison. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. UNEMPLOYED AND UNEMPLOYABLE + +My life has been one of activity; from an early age I have known what it +was to be constantly at work. To have the certainty of regular work, and +to have the discipline of constant duty, seem to me an ideal state +for mind and body. Labour, we are sometimes told, is one of God's +chastisements upon a fallen race; I believe it to be one of our choicest +blessings. I can conceive only one greater tragedy than the man who +has nothing to do, and that is the man who, earnestly longing for work, +seeks it day by day, and fails to find it. + +Imagine his position, and imagine also, if you possibly can, the great +qualities that are demanded if such a man is to go through a lengthened +period of unemployment without losing his dignity, his manhood and his +desire for work. + +I can tell at a glance the man who has had this experience. There is +something about his face that proclaims his hopelessness, the very +poise of his body and his peculiar measured step tell that his heart is +utterly unexpectant. To-morrow morning, and every morning, thousands +of men will rise early, even before the sun, and set out on their +weary tramp and hopeless search for work. To-morrow morning, and every +morning, thousands of men will be waiting at various dock-gates for a +chance of obtaining a few hours' hard work. And while these wait, others +tramp, seeking and asking for work. + +Wives may be ill at home, children may be wanting food and clothing, but +every day thousands of husbands set out on the interminable search for +work, and every day return disappointed. Small wonder that some of them +descend to a lower grade and in addition to being unemployed, become +unemployable. + +Look at those thousands of men clamouring daily at our dock-gates; about +one-half of them will obtain a few hours' hard work, but the other half +will go hopeless away. They will gather some courage during the night, +for the next morning they will find their way to, and be knocking once +more at, the same dock-gates. It takes sterling qualities to endure this +life, and there can be no greater hero than the man who goes through it +and still retains manhood. + +But it would be more than a miracle if tens of thousands of men could +live this life without many of them becoming wastrels, for it is certain +that a life of unemployment is dangerous to manhood, to character and +health. + +As a matter of fact the ranks of the utterly submerged are being +constantly recruited from the ranks of those who have but casual +work. During winter the existence of the unemployed is more amply +demonstrated, for then we are called upon to witness the most depressing +of all London's sights, a parade of the unemployed. I never see one +without experiencing strange and mixed emotions. Let me picture a +parade, for where I live they are numerous, and at least once a week one +will pass my window. + +I hear the doleful strains of a tin whistle accompanied with a +rub-a-dub-dub of a kettledrum that has known its best days, and whose +sound is as doleful as that of the whistle. I know what is coming, and, +though I have seen it many times, it has still a fascination for me, +so I stand at my window and watch. I see two men carrying a dilapidated +banner, on which is inscribed two words, "The Unemployed." The man with +the tin whistle and the man with the drum follow the banner, and behind +them is a company of men marching four abreast. Two policemen on the +pavement keep pace with the head of the procession, and two others +perform a similar duty at the end of it. + +On the pavement are a number of men with collecting boxes, ready to +receive any contribution that charitably inclined people may bestow. +They do not knock at any door, but they stand for a moment and rattle +their boxes in front of every window. + +The sound of the whistle and the drum, and the rattle of boxes is, +in all conscience, depressing enough, but one glimpse at the men is +infinitely more so. + +Most of them are below the average height and bulk. Their hands are in +their trousers pockets, their shoulders are up, but their heads are +bent downwards as if they were half ashamed of their job. A peculiar +slouching gait is characteristic of the whole company, and I look in +vain for a firm step, an upright carriage, and for some signs of alert +manhood. As they pass slowly by I see that some are old, but I also see +that the majority of them are comparatively young, and that many of them +cannot be more than thirty years of age. But whether young or old, I +am conscious of the fact that few of them are possessed of strength, +ability and grit. There are no artisans or craftsmen among them, and +stalwart labourers are not in evidence. + +Pitiful as the procession is, I know that it does not represent the +genuine and struggling unemployed. They pass slowly by and go from +street to street. So they will parade throughout the livelong day. The +police will accompany them, and will see them disbanded when the evening +closes in. The boxes will be emptied, the contents tabulated, and a pro +rata division will be made, after which the processionists will go home +and remain unemployed till the next weekly parade comes round. + +Unemployable! yes, but so much the greater pity; and so much more +difficult the problem, for they represent a very large class, and it is +to be feared a growing class of the manhood of London's underworld. + +We cannot blame them for their physical inferiority, nor for their lack +of ability and grit. To expect them to exhibit great qualities would +be absurd. They are what they are, and a wise country would ponder the +causes that lead to such decadent manhood. During my prison lectures +I have been frequently struck with the mean size and appearance of the +prisoners under twenty-two years of age, who are so numerous in our +London prisons. From many conversations with them I have learned that +lack of physical strength means also lack of mental and moral strength, +and lack of honest aspiration, too! I am confirmed in this judgment by +a statement that appeared in the annual report of the Prison +Commissioners, who state that some years ago they adapted the plan in +Pentonville prison of weighing and measuring all the prisoners under the +age of twenty-two. + +The result I will tell in their own words: "As a class they are +two-and-a-half inches below the average height of the general youthful +population of the same age, and weigh approximately fourteen pounds +less." + +Here, then, we have an official proof of physical decadence, and of its +connection with prison life. For these young men, so continuously +in prison, grow into what should be manhood without any desire or +qualification for robust industrial life. + +I never speak to them without feeling a deep pity. But as it is my +business to interest them, I try to learn something from them in return, +as the following illustration will show. + +I had been giving a course of lectures on industrial life to the young +prisoners in Wormwood Scrubbs, who numbered over three hundred. On my +last visit I interrogated them as follows-- + +"Stand up those of you that have had regular or continuous work." None +of them stood up! "Stand up those of you who have been apprentices." +None of them stood up! "Stand up those of you who sold papers in the +street before you left school." Twenty-five responded! "How many sold +other things in the streets before leaving school?" Thirty! Seventeen +others sold papers after leaving school, and thirty-eight sold various +articles. Altogether I found that nearly two hundred had been in street +occupations. + +To my final question: "How many of you have met me in other prisons?" +Thirty-five stood up! I give these particulars because I think my +readers will realise the bearing they have on unemployment. + +Surely it is obvious that if we continue to have a growing number of +physically inferior young men, who acquire no technical skill and have +not the slightest industrial training, that we shall continue to have an +increasing number of unemployed unemployables. + + +CHAPTER XIV. SUGGESTIONS + +I propose in this last chapter to make some suggestions, which, I +venture to hope, will be found worthy of consideration and adoption. + +The causes of so much misery, suffering and poverty in a rich and +self-governing country are numerous; and every cause needs a separate +consideration and remedy. + +There is no royal road by which the underworld people can ascend to +the upperworld; there can be no specific for healing all the sores from +which humanity suffers. + +Our complex civilisation, our industrial methods, our strange social +system, combined with the varied characteristics mental and physical +of individuals, make social salvation for the mass difficult and quite +impossible for many. + +I shall have written with very little effect if I have not shown what +some of these individual characteristics are. They are strange, powerful +and extraordinary. So very mixed, even in one individual, that while +sometimes they inspire hope, at others they provoke despair. + +If we couple the difficulties of individual character with the social, +industrial and economic difficulties, we see at once how great the +problem is. + +We must admit, and we ought frankly to admit the truth, and to face it, +that there exists a very large army of people that cannot be socially +saved. What is more important, they do not want to be saved, and will +not be saved if they can avoid it. Their great desire is to be left +alone, to be allowed to live where and how they like. + +For these people there must be, there will be, and at no far distant +date, detention, segregation and classification. We must let them +quietly die out, for it is not only folly, but suicidal folly to allow +them to continue and to perpetuate. + +But we are often told that "Heaven helps those who help themselves"; +in fact, we have been told it so often that we have come to believe it, +and, what is worse, we religiously or irreligiously act upon it when +dealing with those below the line. + +If any serious attempt is ever made to lessen the number of the homeless +and destitute, if that attempt is to have any chance of success, it +will, I am sure, be necessary to make an alteration in the adage and a +reversal of our present methods. + +If the adage ran, "Heaven helps those who cannot help themselves," and +if we all placed ourselves on the side of Heaven, the present abominable +and distressing state of affairs would not endure for a month. + +Now I charge it upon the State and local authorities that they avoid +their responsibilities to those who most sorely need their help, and +who, too, have the greatest claim upon their pity and protecting care. +Sometimes those claims are dimly recognised, and half-hearted efforts +are made to care for the unfortunate for a short space of time, and to +protect them for a limited period. + +But these attempts only serve to show the futility of the efforts, for +the unfortunates are released from protective care at the very time when +care and protection should become more effectual and permanent. + +It is comforting to know that we have in London special schools for +afflicted or defective children. Day by day hundreds of children are +taken to these schools, where genuine efforts are made to instruct them +and to develop their limited powers. But eight hundred children leave +these schools every year; in five years four thousand afflicted children +leave these schools. Leave the schools to live in the underworld of +London, and leave, too, just at the age when protection is urgently +needed. For adolescence brings new passions that need either control or +prohibition. + +I want my reader's imagination to dwell for a moment on these four +thousand defectives that leave our special schools every five years; +I want them to ask themselves what becomes of these children, and to +remember that what holds good with London's special schools, holds good +with regard to all other special schools our country over. + +These young people grow into manhood and womanhood without the +possibility of growing in wisdom or skill. Few, very few of them, +have the slightest chance of becoming self-reliant or self-supporting; +ultimately they form a not inconsiderable proportion of the hopeless. + +Philanthropic societies receive some of them, workhouses receive others, +but these institutions have not, nor do they wish to have, any power of +permanent detention, the cost would be too great. Sooner or later the +greater part of them become a costly burden upon the community, and +an eyesore to humanity. Many of them live nomadic lives, and make +occasional use of workhouses and similar institutions when the weather +is bad, after which they return to their uncontrolled existence. +Feeble-minded and defective women return again and again to the +maternity wards to deposit other burdens upon the ratepayers and to add +to the number of their kind. + +But the nation has begun to realise this costly absurdity of leaving +this army of irresponsibles in possession of uncontrolled liberty. The +Royal Commission on the Care and Control of the Feeble-minded, after +sitting for four years, has made its report. This report is a terrible +document and an awful indictment of our neglect. + +The commissioners tell us that on January 1st, 1906, there were in +England and Wales 149,628 idiots, imbeciles, and feeble-minded; in +addition there were on the same date 121,079 persons suffering from some +kind of insanity or dementia. So that the total number of those who came +within the scope of the inquiry was no less than 271,607, or 1 in every +120 of the whole population. + +Of the persons suffering from mental defect, i.e. feeble-minded, +imbeciles, etc., one-third were supported entirely at the public cost in +workhouses, asylums, prisons, etc. + +The report does not tell us much about the remaining two-thirds; but +those of us who have experience know only too well what becomes of them, +and are painfully acquainted with the hopelessness of their lives. + +Here, then, is my first suggestion--a national plan for the permanent +detention, segregation and control of all persons who are indisputably +feeble-minded. Surely this must be the duty of the State, for it is +impossible that philanthropic societies can deal permanently with them. + +We must catch them young; we must make them happy, for they have +capabilities for childlike happiness, and we must make their lives +as useful as possible. But we must no longer allow them the curse of +uncontrolled liberty. + +Again, no boy should be discharged from reformatory or industrial +schools as "unfit for training" unless passed on to some institution +suitable to his age and condition. If we have no such institutions, +as of course we have not, then the State must provide them. And the +magistrates must have the power to commit boys and girls who are charged +before them to suitable industrial schools or reformatories as freely, +as certainly, as unquestioned, and as definitely as they now commit them +to prison. + +At present magistrates have not this power, for though, as a matter +of course, these institutions receive numbers of boys and girls from +police-courts, the institutions have the power to Refuse, to grant +"licences" or to "discharge." So it happens that the meshes of the net +are large enough to allow those that ought to be detained to go free. + +No one can possibly doubt that a provision of this character would +largely diminish the number of those that become homeless vagrants. + +But I proceed to my second suggestion--the detention and segregation +of all professional tramps. If it is intolerable that an army of poor +afflicted human beings should live homeless and nomadic lives, it +is still more intolerable that an army of men and women who are not +deficient in intelligence, and who are possessed of fairly healthy +bodies should, in these days, be allowed to live as our professional +tramps live. + +I have already spoken of the fascination attached to a life of +irresponsible liberty. The wind on the heath, the field and meadow +glistening with dew or sparkling with flowers, the singing of the bird, +the joy of life, and no rent day coming round, who would not be a tramp! +Perhaps our professional tramps think nothing of these things, for +to eat, to sleep, to be free of work, to be uncontrolled, to have no +anxieties, save the gratification of animal demands and animal passions, +is the perfection of life for thousands of our fellow men and women. + +Is this kind of life to be permitted? Every sensible person will surely +say that it ought not to be permitted. Yet the number of people who +attach themselves to this life continually increases, for year by year +the prison commissioners tell us that the number of persons imprisoned +for vagrancy, sleeping out, indecency, etc., continues to increase, and +that short terms of imprisonment only serve as periods of recuperation +for them, for in prison they are healed of their sores and cleansed from +their vermin. + +With every decent fellow who tramps in search of work we must have the +greatest sympathy, but for professional tramps we must provide very +simply. Most of these men, women and children find their way into +prison, workhouses and casual wards at some time or other. When the man +gets into prison, the woman and children go into the nearest workhouse. +When the man is released from prison he finds the woman and children +waiting for him, and away they go refreshed and cleansed by prison and +workhouse treatment. + +We must stop for ever this costly and disastrous course of life. How? +By establishing in every county and under county authorities, or, if +necessary, by a combination of counties, special colonies for vagrants, +one for males and another for females. Every vagrant who could not give +proof that he had some definite object in tramping must be committed to +these colonies and detained, till such time as definite occupation or +home be found for him. + +Here they should live and work, practically earning their food and +clothing; their lives should be made clean and decent, and certainly +economical. For these colonies there must be of course State aid. + +The children must be adopted by the board of guardians or education +authorities and trained in small homes outside the workhouse gates this +should be compulsory. + +These two plans would certainly clear away the worst and most hopeless +tribes of nomads, and though for a short time they would impose +considerable pecuniary obligations upon us, yet we should profit even +financially in the near future, and, best of all, should prevent a +second generation arising to fill the place of those detained. + +The same methods should be adopted with the wretched mass of humanity +that crowds nightly on the Thames Embankment. Philanthropy is worse than +useless with the great majority of these people. Hot soup in the small +hours of a cold morning is doubtless comforting to them, and if the +night is wet, foggy, etc., a cover for a few hours is doubtless a +luxury. They drink the soup, they take advantage of the cover, and go +away, to return at night for more soup and still another cover. Oh, the +folly of it all! + +We must have shelters for them, but the County Council must provide +them. Large, clean and healthy places into which, night by night, the +human derelicts from the streets should be taken by special police. + +But there should be no release with the morning light, but detention +while full inquiries are made regarding them. Friends would doubtless +come forward to help many, but the remainder should be classified +according to age and physical and mental condition, and released only +when some satisfactory place or occupation is forthcoming for them. + +The nightly condition of the Embankment is not only disgraceful, but it +is dangerous to the health and wellbeing of the community. + +It is almost inconceivable that we should allow those parts of London +which are specially adapted for the convenience of the public to be +monopolised by a mass of diseased and unclean humanity. If we would +but act sensibly with these classes, I am sure we could then deal in an +effectual manner with that portion of the nomads for whom there is hope. + +If the vast amount of money that is poured out in the vain effort to +help those whom it is impossible to help was devoted to those that are +helpable, the difficulty would be solved. + +So I would suggest, and it is no new suggestion, that all philanthropic +societies that deal with the submerged should unite and co-ordinate +with the authorities. That private individuals who have money, time +or ability at their command should unite with them. That one great +all-embracing organisation, empowered and aided by the State, should +be formed, to which the man, woman or family that is overtaken or +overwhelmed by misfortune could turn in time of their need with the +assurance that their needs would be sympathetically considered and their +requirements wisely attended to. + +An organisation of this description would prevent tens of thousands from +becoming vagrants, and a world of misery and unspeakable squalor would +be prevented. + +The recent Report on the Poor Law foreshadows an effort of this +description, and in Germany this method is tried with undoubted success. + +Some day we shall try it, but that day will not come till we have +realised how futile, how expensive our present methods are. The Poor +Law system needs recasting. Charity must be divorced from religion. +Philanthropic and semi-religious organisations must be separated from +their commercial instincts and commercial greed. The workhouse, the +prison, the Church Army and the Salvation Army's shelters and labour +homes must no longer form the circle round which so many hopelessly +wander. + +No man or set of men must be considered the saviour of the poor, and +though much knowledge will be required, it perhaps will be well not to +have too much. + +Above all, the desire to prevent, rather than the desire to restore, +must be the aim of the organisation which should embrace every parish in +our land. + +Finally, and in a few words, my methods would be detention and +protective care for the afflicted or defective, detention and +segregation for the tramps, and a great charitable State-aided +organisation to deal with the unfortunate. + +Tramps we shall continue to have, but there need be nothing degrading +about them, if only the professional element can be eliminated. + +Labour exchanges are doing a splendid work for the genuine working man +whose labour must often be migratory. But every labour exchange should +have its clean lodging-house, in which the decent fellows who want +work, and are fitted for work, may stay for a night, and thus avoid the +contamination attending the common lodging-houses or the degradation and +detention attending casual wards. + +There exists, I am sure, great possibilities for good in labour +exchanges, if, and if only, their services can be devoted to the +genuinely unemployed. + +Already I have said they are doing much, and one of the most useful +things they do is the advancement of rail-fares to men when work is +obtained at a distance. A development in this direction will do much +to end the disasters that attend decent fellows when they go on tramp. +Migratory labour is unfortunately an absolute necessity, for our +industrial and commercial life demand it, and almost depend upon it. +The men who supply that want are quite as useful citizens as the men +who have permanent and settled work. But their lives are subject to +many dangers, temptations, and privations from which they ought to be +delivered. + +The more I reflect upon the present methods for dealing with +professional tramps, the more I am persuaded that these methods are +foolish and extravagant. But the more I reflect on the life of the +genuinely unemployed that earnestly desire work and are compelled +to tramp in search of it, the more I am persuaded that such life is +attended by many dangers. The probability being that if the tramp and +search be often repeated or long-continued, the desire for, and the +ability to undergo, regular work will disappear. + +But physical and mental inferiority, together with the absence of moral +purpose, have a great deal to say with regard to the number of our +unemployed. + +If you ask me the source of this stunted manhood, I point you to the +narrow streets of the underworld. Thence they issue, and thence alone. + +Do you ask the cause? The causes are many! First and foremost stands +that all-pervading cause--the housing of the poor. Who can enumerate +the thousands that have breathed the fetid air of the miserable +dwelling-places in our slums? Who dare picture how they live and sleep, +as they lie, unripe sex with sex, for mutual taint? I dare not, and if I +did no publisher could print it. + +Who dare describe the life of a mother-wife, whose husband and children +have become dependent upon her earnings! I dare not! Who dare describe +the exact life and doings of four families living in a little house +intended for one family? Who can describe the life, speech, actions +and atmosphere of such places? I cannot, for the task would be too +disgusting! + +For tens of thousands of people are allowed, or compelled, to live and +die under those conditions. How can vigorous manhood or pure womanhood +come out of them? Ought we to expect, have we any right to expect, +manhood and womanhood born and bred under such conditions to be other +than blighted? + +Whether we expect it or not matters but little, for we have this mass +of blighted humanity with us, and, like an old man of the sea, it is a +burden upon our back, a burden that is not easily got rid of. + +What are we doing with this burden in the present? How are we going +to prevent it in the future? are two serious questions that must be +answered, and quickly, too, or something worse will happen to us. + +The authorities must see to it at once that children shall have as much +air and breathing space in their homes by night as they have in the +schools by day. + +What sense can there be in demanding and compelling a certain amount +of air space in places where children are detained for five and a half +hours, and then allow those children to stew in apologies for rooms, +where the atmosphere is vile beyond description, and where they are +crowded indiscriminately for the remaining hours? + +This is the question of the day and the hour. Drink, foreign invasion, +the House of Lords or the House of Commons, Tariff Reform or Free Trade, +none of these questions, no, nor the whole lot of them combined, compare +for one moment in importance with this one awful question. + +Give the poor good airy housing at a reasonable rent, and half the +difficulties against which our nation runs its thick head would +disappear. Hospitals and prisons would disappear too as if by magic, for +it is to these places that the smitten manhood finds its way. + +I know it is a big question! But it is a question that has got to be +solved, and in solving it some of our famous and cherished notions will +have to go. Every house, no matter to whom it belongs, or who holds the +lease, who lets or sub-lets, every inhabited house must be licensed by +the local authorities for a certain number of inmates, so many and no +more; a maximum, but no minimum. + +Local authorities even now have great powers concerning construction, +drains, etc. Let them now be empowered to make stringent rules about +habitations other than their municipal houses. The piggeries misnamed +lodging-houses, the common shelters, etc., are inspected and licensed +for a certain number of inmates; it is high time that this was done with +the wretched houses in which the poor live. + +Oh, the irony of it! Idle tramps must not be crowded, but the children +of the poor may be crowded to suffocation. This must surely stop; if +not, it will stop us! Again I say, that local authorities must have +the power to decide the number of inhabitants that any house shall +accommodate, and license it accordingly, and of course have legal power +to enforce their decision. + +The time has come for a thorough investigation. I would have every room +in every house visited by properly appointed officers. I would have +every detail as to size of room, number of persons and children, rent +paid, etc., etc.; I would have its conditions and fitness for human +habitation inquired into and reported upon. + +I would miss no house, I would excuse none. A standard should be set as +to the condition and position of every house, and the number it might be +allowed to accommodate. This would bring many dark things into the light +of day, and I am afraid the reputation of many respectable people would +suffer, and their pockets too, although they tell us that they "have but +a life-interest" in the pestiferous places. But if we drive people out +of these places, where will they go? + +Well, out they must go! and it is certain that there is at present no +place for them! + +Places must be prepared for them, and local authorities must prepare +them. Let them address themselves to this matter and no longer shirk +their duty with regard to the housing of the poor. Let them stop for +ever the miserable pretence of housing the poor that they at present +pursue. For be it known that they house "respectable" people only, those +that have limited families and can pay a high rental. + +If local authorities cannot do it, then the State must step in and +help them, for it must be done. It seems little use waiting for private +speculation or philanthropic trusts to show us the way in this matter, +for both want and expect too high an interest for their outlay. But a +good return will assuredly be forthcoming if the evil be tackled in a +sensible way. + +Let no one be downhearted about new schemes for housing the poor not +paying! Why, everything connected with the poor from the cradle to the +grave is a source of good profit to some one, if not to themselves. + +Let a housing plan be big enough and simple enough, and I am certain +that it will pay even when it provides for the very poor. But old ideals +will have to be forsaken and new ones substituted. + +I have for many years considered this question very deeply, and from +the side of the very poor. I think that I know how the difficulty can +be met, and I am prepared to place my suggestions for housing the poor +before any responsible person or authority who would care to consider +the matter. + +Perhaps it is due to the public to say here that one of the greatest +sorrows of my life was my inability to make good a scheme that a rich +friend and myself formulated some years ago. This failure was due to the +serious illness of my friend, and I hope that it will yet materialise. + +But, in addition to the housing, there are other matters which affect +the vigour and virility of the poor. School days must be extended till +the age of sixteen. Municipal playgrounds open in the evening must be +established. If boys and girls are kept at school till sixteen, older +and weaker people will be able to get work which these boys have, but +ought not to have. The nation demands a vigorous manhood, but the nation +cannot have it without some sacrifice, which means doing without child +labour, for child labour is the destruction of virile manhood. + +Emigration is often looked upon as the great specific. But the +multiplication of agencies for exporting the young, the healthy, and +the strong to the colonies causes me some alarm. For emigration as at +present conducted certainly does not lessen the number of the unfit and +the helpless. + +It must be apparent to any one who thinks seriously upon this matter +that a continuance of the present methods is bound to entail disastrous +consequences, and to promote racial decay at home. The problem of the +degenerates, the physical and mental weaklings is already a pressing +national question. But serious as the question is at the present moment, +it is but light in its intensity compared with what it must be in +the near future, unless we change our methods. One fact ought to +be definitely understood and seriously pondered, and it is this: no +emigration agency, no board of guardians, no church organisation and no +human salvage organisation emigrates or assists to emigrate young +people of either sex who cannot pass a severe medical examination and +be declared mentally and physically sound. This demands serious thought; +for the puny, the weak and the unfit are ineligible; our colonies will +have none of them, and perhaps our colonies are wise, so the unfit +remain at home to be our despair and affliction. + +But our colonies demand not only physical and mental health, but moral +health also, for boys and girls from reformatory and industrial schools +are not acceptable; though the training given in these institutions +ought to make the young people valuable assets in a new country. + +The serious fact that only the best are exported and that all the +afflicted and the weak remain at home is, I say, worthy of profound +attention. + +Thousands of healthy working men with a little money and abundant grit +emigrate of their own choice and endeavour. Fine fellows they generally +are, and good fortune attends them! Thousands of others with no money +but plenty of strength are assisted "out," and they are equally good, +while thousands of healthy young women are assisted "out" also. All +through the piece the strong and healthy leave our shores, and the +weaklings are left at home. + +It is always with mixed feelings that I read of boys and girls being +sent to Canada, for while I feel hopeful regarding their future, I know +that the matter does not end with them; for I appreciate some of the +evils that result to the old country from the method of selection. + +Emigration, then, as at present conducted, is no cure for the evil it +is supposed to remedy. Nay, it increases the evil, for it secures to our +country an ever-increasing number of those who are absolutely unfitted +to fulfil the duties of citizenship. + +Yet emigration might be a beneficent thing if it were wisely conducted +on a comprehensive basis, which should include a fair proportion of +those that are now excluded because of their unfitness. + +Are we to go on far ever with our present method of dealing with those +who have been denied wisdom and stature? Who are what they are, but +whose disabilities cannot be charged upon themselves, and for whom there +is no place other than prison or workhouse? + +Yet many of them have wits, if not brains, and are clever in little +ways of their own. At home we refuse them the advantages that are +solicitously pressed upon their bigger and stronger brothers. Abroad +every door is locked against them. What are they to do? The Army and +Navy will have none of them! and industrial life has no place for them. +So prison, workhouse and common lodging-houses are their only homes. + +Wise emigration methods would include many of them, and decent fellows +they would make if given a chance. Oxygen and new environment, with +plenty of food, etc., would make an alteration in their physique, and +regular work would prove their salvation. But this matter should, and +must be, undertaken by the State, for philanthropy cannot deal with it; +and when the State does undertake it, consequences unthought-of will +follow, for the State will be able to close one-half of its prisons. + +It is the helplessness of weaklings that provides the State with more +than half its prisoners. Is it impossible, I would ask, for a Government +like ours, with all its resources of wealth, power and influence to +devise and carry out some large scheme of emigration? If colonial +governments wisely refuse our inferior youths, is it not unwise for our +own Government to neglect them? + +In the British Empire is there no idle land that calls for men and +culture? Here we in England have thousands of young fellows who, because +of their helplessness, are living lives of idleness and wrongdoing. + +Time after time these young men find their way into prison, and every +short sentence they undergo sends them back to liberty more hopeless +and helpless. Many of them are not bad fellows; they have some qualities +that are estimable, but they are undisciplined and helpless. Not all the +discharged prisoners' aid societies in the land, even with Government +assistance, can procure reasonable and progressive employment for them. + +The thought of thousands of young men, not criminals, spending their +lives in a senseless and purposeless round of short imprisonments, +simply because they are not quite as big and as strong as their +fellows, fills me with wonder and dismay, for I can estimate some of the +consequences that result. + +Is it impossible, I would ask, for our Government to take up this matter +in a really great way? Can no arrangement be made with our colonies for +the reception and training of these young fellows? Probably not so long +as the colonies can secure an abundance of better human material. But +has a bona-fide effort been made in this direction? I much doubt it +since the days of transportation. + +Is it not possible for our Government to obtain somewhere in the whole +of its empire a sufficiency of suitable land, to which the best of them +may be transplanted, and on which they may be trained for useful service +and continuous work? + +Is it not possible to develop the family system for them, and secure +a sufficient number of house fathers and mothers to care for them in a +domestic way, leaving their physical and industrial training to others? +Very few know these young fellows better than myself, and I am bold +enough to say that under such conditions the majority of them would +prove useful men. + +Surely a plan of this description would be infinitely better than +continued imprisonments for miserable offences, and much less expensive, +too! + +I am very anxious to emphasise this point. The extent of our prison +population depends upon the treatment these young men receive at the +hands of the State. + +So long as the present treatment prevails, so long will the State be +assured of a permanent prison population. + +But the evil does not end with the continuance and expense of prison. +The army of the unfit is perpetually increased by this procedure. +Very few of these young men--I think I may say with safety, none +of them--after three or four convictions become settled and decent +citizens; for they cannot if they would, there is no opportunity. They +would not if they could, for the desire is no longer existent. + +We have already preventive detention for older persons, who, having +been four times convicted of serious crime, are proved to be "habitual +criminals." But hopeless as the older criminals are, the country is +quite willing to adopt such measures and bear such expense as may be +thought requisite for the purpose of detaining, and perchance reforming +them. + +But the young men for whom I now plead are a hundred times more numerous +and a hundred times more hopeful than the old habitual criminals, whose +position excites so much attention. We must have an oversea colony for +these young men, and an Act of Parliament for the "preventive detention" +of young offenders who are repeatedly convicted. + +A third conviction should ensure every homeless offender the certainty +of committal to the colony. This would stop for ever the senseless short +imprisonment system, for we could keep them free of prison till their +third conviction, when they should only be detained pending arrangement +for their emigration. + +The more I think upon this matter the more firmly I am convinced that +nothing less will prevail. Though, of course, even with this plan, the +young men who are hopelessly afflicted with disease or deformity must +be excluded. For them the State must make provision at home, but not in +prison. + +A scheme of this character, if once put into active and thorough +operation, would naturally work itself out, for year by year the number +of young fellows to whom it would apply would grow less and less; but +while working itself out, it would also work out the salvation of many +young men, and bring lasting benefits upon our country. + +Vagrancy, with its attendant evils, would be greatly diminished, many +prisons would be closed, workhouses and casual wards would be less +necessary. The cost of the scheme would be more than repaid to the +community by the savings effected in other ways. The moral effect also +would be equally large, and the physical effects would be almost past +computing, for it would do much to arrest the decay of the race that +appears inseparable from our present conditions and procedure. + +But the State must do something more than this; for many young habitual +offenders are too young for emigration. For them the State reformatories +must be established, regardless of their physical condition. To these +reformatories magistrates must have the power of committal as certainly +as they have the power of committal to prison. There must be no "by your +leave," no calling in a doctor to examine the offender. But promptly +and certainly when circumstances justify the committal to a State +reformatory, the youthful offender should go. With the certainty that, +be his physique and intellect what they may, he would be detained, +corrected and trained for some useful life. Or, if found "quite unfit" +or feeble-minded, sent to an institution suitable to his condition. + +Older criminals, when proved to be mentally unsound, are detained in +places other than prisons till their health warrants discharge. But +the potential criminals among the young, no matter how often they are +brought before the courts, are either sent back to hopeless liberty or +thrust into prison for a brief period. + +I repeat that philanthropy cannot attempt to deal with the habitual +offenders, either in the days of their boyhood or in their early +manhood. For philanthropy can at the most deal with but a few, and those +few must be of the very best. + +I cannot believe that our colonies would refuse to ratify the +arrangement that I have outlined, if they were invited to do so by our +own Government, and given proper security. They owe us something; we +called them into existence, we guarantee their safety, they receive +our grit, blood and money; will they not receive, then, under proper +conditions and safeguards, some of our surplus youth, even if it be +weak? I believe they will! + +In the strictures that I have ventured to pass upon the methods of the +Salvation Army, I wish it to be distinctly understood that I make +no attack upon the character and intentions of the men and women who +compose it. I know that they are both earnest and sincere. For many of +them I have a great admiration. My strictures refer to the methods and +the methods only. + +For long years I have been watchful of results, and I have been so +placed in life that I have had plenty of opportunities for seeing and +learning. My disappointment has been great, for I expected great things. +Many other men and women whose judgment is entitled to respect believe +as I do. But they remain silent, hoping that after all great good may +come. But I must speak, for I believe the methods adopted are altogether +unsound, and in reality tend to aggravate the evils they set out to +cure. In 1900 I ventured to express the following opinion of shelters-- + +"EXTRACTS FROM 'PICTURES AND PROBLEMS' + +"I look with something approaching dismay at the multiplication of +these institutions throughout the length and breadth of our land. To +the loafing vagrant class, a very large class, I know, but a class not +worthy of much consideration, they are a boon. These men tramp from one +town to another, and a week or two in each suits them admirably, till +the warm weather and light nights arrive, and then they are off. + +"This portion of the 'submerged' will always be submerged till some +power takes hold of them and compels them to work out their own +salvation. + +"But there is such a procession of them that the labour homes, etc., get +continual recruits, and the managers are enabled to contract for a great +deal of unskilled work. + +"In all our large towns there are numbers of self-respecting men, men +who have committed no crime, save the unpardonable crime of growing +old. Time was when such men could get odd clerical work, envelope and +circular addressing, and a variety of light but irregular employment, +at which, by economy and the help of their wives, they made a sort of +living. But these men are now driven to the wall, for their poorly paid +and irregular work is taken from them." + +In 1911 A. M. Nicholl, in his not unfriendly book on GENERAL BOOTH +AND THE SALVATION ARMY, makes the following statement, which I make no +apology for reproducing. + +His judgment, considering the position he held with the Army for so many +years, is worthy of consideration. Here are some of his words-- + +"From an economic standpoint the social experiment of the Salvation +Army stands condemned almost root and branch. So much the worse for +economics, the average Salvation Army officer will reply. But at the +end of twenty years the Army cannot point to one single cause of social +distress that it has removed, or to one single act which it has promoted +that has dealt a death-blow at one social evil.... + +"A more serious question, one which lies at the root of all +indiscriminate charity, is the value to the community of these shelters. +So far as the men in the shelters are benefited by them, they do +not elevate them, either physically or morally. A proportion--what +proportion?--are weeded out, entirely by the voluntary action of the +men themselves, and given temporary work, carrying sandwich-boards, +addressing envelopes, sorting paper, etc.; but the cause of their +social dilapidation remains unaltered. They enter the shelter, pay their +twopence or fourpence as the case may be (and few are allowed to enter +unless they do), they listen to some moral advice once a week, with +which they are surfeited inside and outside the shelter, they go to bed, +and next morning leave the shelter to face the streets as they came in, +The shelter gets no nearer to the cause of their depravity than it does +to the economic cause of their failure, or to the economic remedy which +the State must eventually introduce.... + +"The nomads of our civilisation wander past us in their fringy, dirty +attire night by night. If a man stops us in the streets and tells us +that he is starving, and we offer him a ticket to a labour home or a +night shelter, he will tell you that the chances are one out of ten if +he will procure admission. The better class of the submerged, or those +who use the provision for the submerged in order to gratify their own +selfishness, have taken possession of the vacancies, and so they wander +on. If a man applies for temporary work, the choice of industry +is disappointingly limited. One is tempted to think that the +whole superstructure of cheap and free shelters has tended to the +standardisation of a low order of existence in this netherworld that +attracted the versatile philanthropist at the head of the Salvation Army +twenty years ago.... + +"The general idea about the Salvation Army is, that the nearer it gets +to the most abandoned classes, the more wonderful and the more numerous +are the converts. It is a sad admission to pass on to the world that the +opposite is really the case. The results are fewer. General Booth would +almost break his heart if he knew the proportion of men who have been +'saved,' in the sense that he most values, through his social scheme. +But he ought to know, and the Church and the world ought to know, and in +order that it may I will make bold to say that the officials cannot put +their hands on the names of a thousand men in all parts of the world who +are to-day members of the Army who were converted at the penitent form +of shelters and elevators, who are now earning a living outside the +control of the Army's social work." + +But the public appear to have infinite faith in the multiplication and +enlargement of these shelters, as the following extract from a daily +paper of December 1911 will show-- + +"'Since the days of Mahomet, not forgetting St. Francis and Martin +Luther, I doubt if there is any man who has started, without help from +the Government, such a world-wide movement as this.' + +"This was Sir George Askwith's tribute to General Booth and the +Salvation Army at the opening of the new wing of the men's Elevators +in Spa Road, Bermondsey, yesterday afternoon. The task of declaring the +wing open devolved upon the Duke of Argyll, who had beside him on the +platform the Duchess of Marlborough, Lady St. Davids, Lord Armstrong, +Sir Daniel and Lady Hamilton, Alderman Sir Charles C. Wakefield, Sir +Edward Clarke, K.C., Sir George Askwith, and the Mayor of Bermondsey and +General Booth. + +"The General, who is just back from Denmark, spoke for three-quarters +of an hour, notwithstanding his great age and his admission that he was +'far from well.' The Elevator, as its name implies, seeks to raise men +who are wholly destitute and give them a fresh start. The new wing has +been erected at a cost of L10,000, and the Elevator, which accommodates +590 men and covers two-and-a-half acres, represents an expenditure of +L30,000, and is the largest institution of its kind in the world. + +"'The men,' said the General, 'are admitted on two conditions only, that +they are willing to obey orders, and ready to work. Before he has his +breakfast a man must earn it, and the same with each meal, the ticket +given him entitling him to remuneration in proportion to the work he has +done. If the men's conduct is good, they are passed on to another of +the Army's institutions, and ultimately some post is secured for them +through the employers of labour with whom the Army is in touch.'" + +I believe General Booth to be sincere, and that he believes exactly what +he stated. But even sincerity must not be allowed to mislead a generous +public. Employers of labour do not, cannot, and will not keep positions +open for General Booth or any other man. Employers require strong, +healthy men who can give value for the wages paid. Thousands of men who +have never entered shelters or prison are not only available but eager +for positions that show any prospect of permanence, whether the work be +heavy or skilled. For work that requires neither brains, skill or much +physical strength, thousands of men whose characters are good are also +available. I venture to say that General Booth cannot supply the public +with a reasonable list of men who, having passed through the shelters, +have been put into permanent work. + +For every man and woman who is seeking to uplift their fellows I have +heartfelt sympathy. For every organisation that is earnestly seeking to +alleviate or remove social evils I wish abundant success. Against the +organisations named I have not the slightest feeling. If they were +successful in the work they undertake, no one in England would rejoice +more than myself. But they are not successful, and because I believe +that their claim to success blinds a well-intentioned and generous +public, and prevents real consideration of deep-seated evils, I make +these comments and give the above extracts. + +I question whether any one in London knows better than myself the +difficulty of finding employment for a man who is "down," for I have +written hundreds of letters, I have visited numerous employers for this +one purpose; I have begged and pleaded with employers, sometimes I have +offered "security" for the honesty of men for whom I was concerned. + +Occasionally, but only occasionally, was I successful. I have advertised +on men's behalf frequently, but nothing worthy of the name of "work" has +resulted. I know the mind of employers, and I know their difficulties; I +have been too often in touch with them not to know. I have also been in +touch with many men who have been in the shelters, elevators, bridges, +labour homes and tents; I know their experience has been one +of disappointment. I have written on behalf of such men to the +"head-quarters," but nothing has resulted but a few days' work at +wood-chopping, envelope addressing, or bill distributing, none of which +can be called employment. + +Day after day men who have been led to expect work wait, and wait in +vain, in or about the head-quarters for the promised work that so +rarely comes. For these men I am concerned, for them I am bold enough to +risk the censure of good people, for I hold that it is not only cruel, +but wicked to excite in homeless men hopes that cannot possibly be +realised. + +This point has been driven home to my very heart, for I have seen +what comes to pass when the spark of hope is extinguished. Better, far +better, that a man who is "down" should trust to his own exertions and +rely upon himself than entertain illusions and rely upon others. + +And now I close by presenting in catalogue form some of the steps that +I believe to be necessary for dealing with the terrible problems of our +great underworld. + +First: the permanent detention and segregation of all who are classified +as feeble-minded. Second: the permanent detention and segregation of all +professional tramps. Third: proper provision for men and women who +are hopelessly crippled or disabled. Fourth: establishment by the +educational authorities, or by the State of reformatory schools, +for youthful delinquents and juvenile adults regardless of physical +weakness, deprivations or disease. Fifth: compulsory education, +physical, mental and technical, up to sixteen years of age. Sixth: the +establishment of municipal play-grounds and organised play for youths +who have left school. Seventh: national and State-aided emigration +to include the best of the "unfit." Eighth: the abolition of common +lodging-houses, and the establishment of municipal lodging-houses for +men and also for women. Ninth: the establishment of trade boards for all +industries. Tenth: proper and systematic help for widows who have young +children. Eleventh: thorough inspection and certification by local +authorities of all houses and "dwellings" inhabited by the poor. +Twelfth: housing for the very poor by municipal authorities, with +abolition of fire-places, the heating to be provided from one central +source. The housing to include a restaurant where nourishing but +simple food may be obtained for payment that ensures a small profit. +Thirteenth: more abundant and reasonable provision of work by the State, +local authorities and for the unemployed. Fourteenth: a co-ordination +of all philanthropic and charity agencies to form one great society with +branches in every parish. + +Give us these things, and surely they are not impossible, and half +our present expensive difficulties would disappear. Fewer prisons, +workhouses and hospitals would be required. The need for shelters and +labour homes would not exist. The necessity for the activities of +many charitable agencies whose constant appeals are so disturbing and +puzzling, but whose work is now required, would pass away too. + +But with all these things given, there would be still great need for the +practice of kindness and the development of brotherly love. For without +brotherly love and kindly human interest, laws are but cast-iron rules, +and life but a living death. What is life worth? What can life be worth +if it be only self-centred? To love is to live! to feel and take an +interest in others is to be happy indeed, and to feel the pulses thrill. + +And I am sure that love is abundant in our old country, but it is +largely paralysed and mystified. For many objects that love would fain +accomplish appear stupendous and hopeless. What a different old +England we might have, if the various and hopeless classes that I have +enumerated were permanently detained. For then love would come to +its own, the real misfortunes of life would then form a passport to +practical help. Widows would no longer be unceremoniously kicked into +the underworld; accidents and disablements would no longer condemn men +and women to live lives of beggary. Best of all, charitable and +kindly deeds would no longer be done by proxy. It is because I see how +professional and contented beggary monopolises so much effort and costs +so much money; because I see how it deprives the really unfortunate and +the suffering poor of the practical help that would to them be such a +blessed boon, that I am anxious for its days to be ended. May that day +soon come, for when it comes, there will be some chance of love and +justice obtaining deliverance for the oppressed and deserving poor who +abound in London's dark underworld. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of London's Underworld, by Thomas Holmes + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LONDON'S UNDERWORLD *** + +***** This file should be named 1420.txt or 1420.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/2/1420/ + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Corporate humanity always has had, and +always will have, serious problems to consider. + +The more civilised we become the more complex and serious will be +our problems--unless sensible and merciful yet thorough methods +are adopted for dealing with the evils. I think that my pages +will show that the methods now in use for coping with some of our +great evils do not lessen, but considerably increase the evils +they seek to cure. + +With great diffidence I venture to point out what I conceive to +be reasons for failure, and also to offer some suggestions that, +if adopted, will, I believe, greatly minimise, if not remove, +certain evils. + +I make no claim to prophetic wisdom; I know no royal road to +social salvation, nor of any specific to cure all human sorrow +and smart. + +But I have had a lengthened and unique experience. I have +closely observed, and I have deeply pondered. I have seen, +therefore I ask that the experiences narrated, the statements +made, and the views expressed in this book may receive earnest +consideration, not only from those who have the temerity to read +it, but serious consideration also from our Statesmen and local +authorities, from our Churches and philanthropists, from our men +of business and from men of the world. + +For truly we are all deeply concerned in the various matters +which are dealt with in "London's Underworld." + THOMAS HOLMES. +12, Bedford Road, +Tottenham, N. + +* + +CONTENTS + +CHAP. + +I MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES +II LONDON'S UNDERWORLD +III THE NOMADS. +IV LODGING-HOUSES +V FURNISHED APARTMENTS +VI THE DISABLED +VII WOMEN IN THE UNDERWORLD +VIII MARRIAGE IN THE UNDERWORLD +IX BRAINS IN THE UNDERWORLD +X PLAY IN THE UNDERWORLD +XI ON THE VERGE OF THE UNDERWORLD +XII IN PRISONS OFT +XIII UNEMPLOYED AND UNEMPLOYABLE +XIV SUGGESTIONS. + +* + +LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + + + +CHAPTER I + +MY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES + +The odds and ends of humanity, so plentiful in London's great +city, have for many years largely constituted my circle of +friends and acquaintances. + +They are strange people, for each of them is, or was, possessed +of some dominating vice, passion, whim or weakness which made him +incapable of fulfilling the ordinary duties of respectable +citizenship. + +They had all descended from the Upper World, to live out strange +lives, or die early deaths in the mysterious but all pervading +world below the line. + +Some of them I saw, as it were, for a moment only; suddenly out +of the darkness they burst upon me; suddenly the darkness again +received them out of my sight. + +But our acquaintance was of sufficient duration to allow me to +acquire some knowledge, and to gain some experience of lives more +than strange, and of characters far removed from the ordinary. + +But with others I spent many hours, months, or years as +circumstances warranted, or as opportunities +permitted. Some of them became my intimates; and though seven +long years have passed since I gave up police-court duties, our +friendship bears the test of time, for they remain my friends and +acquaintances still. + +But some have passed away, and others are passing; one by one my +list of friends grows less, and were it not that I, even now, +pick up a new friend or two, I should run the risk of being a +lonely old man. Let me confess, however, that my friends have +brought me many worries, have caused me much disappointment, have +often made me very angry. Sometimes, I must own, they have +caused me real sorrow and occasionally feelings of utter despair. +But I have had my compensations, we have had our happy times, we +have even known our merry moments. + +Though pathos has permeated all our intercourse, humour and +comedy have never been far away; though sometimes tragedy has +been in waiting. + +But over one and all of my friends hung a great mystery, a +mystery that always puzzled and sometimes paralysed me, a mystery +that always set me to thinking. + +Now many of my friends were decent and good-hearted fellows; yet +they were outcasts. Others were intelligent, clever and even +industrious, quite capable of holding their own with respectable +men, still they were helpless. + +Others were fastidiously honest in some things, yet they were +persistent rogues who could not see the wrong or folly of +dishonesty; many of them were clear-headed in ninety-nine +directions, but in the hundredth they were muddled if not +mentally blind. + +Others had known and appreciated the comforts of refined life, +yet they were happy and content amidst the horror and dirt of a +common lodging-house! Why was it that these fellows failed, and +were content to fail in life? + +What is that little undiscovered something that determines their +lives and drives them from respectable society? + +What compensations do they get for all the suffering and +privations they undergo? I don't know! I wish that I did! but +these things I have never been able to discover. + +Many times I have put the questions to myself; many times I have +put the questions to my friends, who appear to know about as much +and just as little upon the matter as myself. + +They do not realise that in reality they do differ from ordinary +citizens; I realise the difference, but can find no reason for +it. + +No! it is not drink, although a few of them were dipsomaniacs, +for generally they were sober men. + +I will own my ignorance, and say that I do not know what that +little something is that makes a man into a criminal instead of +constituting him into a hero. This I do know: that but for the +possession of a little something, many of my friends, now +homeless save when they are in prison, would be performing life's +duties in settled and comfortable homes, and would be quite as +estimable citizens as ordinary people. + +Probably they would prove better citizens than the majority of +people, for while they possess some inherent weakness, they also +possess in a great degree many estimable qualities which are of +little use in their present life. + +These friends of mine not only visit my office and invade my +home, but they turn up at all sorts of inconvenient times and +places.--There is my friend the dipsomaniac, the pocket Hercules, +the man of brain and iron constitution. + +Year after year he holds on to his own strange course, neither +poverty nor prison, delirium tremens nor physical injuries serve +to alter him. He occupies a front seat at a men's meeting on +Sunday afternoon when the bills announce my name. But he comes +half drunk and in a talkative mood, sometimes in a contradictory +mood, but generally good tempered. He punctuates my speech with +a loud and emphatic "Hear! hear!" and often informs the +audience that "what Mr. Holmes says is quite true!" The +attendants cannot keep him silent, he tells them that he is my +friend; he makes some claim to being my patron. + +Poor fellow! I speak to him kindly, but incontinently give him +the slip, for I retire by a back way, leaving him to argue my +disappearance in no friendly spirit with the attendants. Yet I +have spent many happy hours with him when, as sometimes happened, +he was "in his right mind." + +I, would like to dwell on the wonders of this man's strange and +fearsome life, but I hasten on to tell of a contrast, for my +friends present many contrasts. + +I was hurrying down crowded Bishopsgate at lunch time, lost in +thought, when I felt my hand grasped and a well-known voice say, +"Why! Mr. Holmes, don't you know me?" + +Know him! I should think I do know him; I am proud to know him, +for I venerate him. He is only a french polisher and by no means +handsome, his face is furrowed and seamed by care and sorrow, his +hands and clothing are stained with varnish. Truly he is not +much to look at, but if any one wants an embodiment of pluck and +devotion, of never-failing patience and magnificent love, in my +friend you shall find it! + +Born in the slums, he sold matches at seven years of age; at +eight he was in an industrial school; his father was dead, his +mother a drunkard; home he had none! + +Leaving school at sixteen he became first a gardener's assistant, +then a gentleman's servant; in this occupation he saved some +money with which he apprenticed himself to french polishing. +From apprentice to journeyman, from journeyman to business on his +own account, were successive steps; he married, and that brought +him among my many acquaintances. + +He had a nice home, and two beautiful children, and then that +great destroyer of home life, drink! had to be reckoned with. +So he came to consult me. She was a beautiful and cultured woman +and full of remorse. + +The stained hands of the french polisher trembled as he signed a +document by which he agreed to pay L1 per week for his wife's +maintenance in an inebriate home for twelve months where she +might have her babe with her. Bravely he did his part, and at +the end of the year he brought her back to a new and better home, +where the neighbours knew nothing of her past. + +For twelve months there was joy in the home, and then a new life +came into it; but with the babe came a relapse; the varnish- +stained man was again at his wits' end. Once more she entered a +home, for another year he worked and toiled to pay the charges, +and again he provided a new home. And she came back to a house +that he had bought for her in a new neighbourhood; they now lived +close to me, and my house was open to them. The story of the +following years cannot be told, for she almost ruined him. Night +after night after putting the children to bed, he searched the +streets and public-houses for her; sometimes I went with him. +She pawned his clothes, the children's clothing, and even the +boy's fiddle. He cleaned the house, he cooked the food, he cared +for the children, he even washed and ironed their clothing on +Saturday evening for the coming Sunday. He marked all the +clothing, he warned all the pawnbrokers. At length he obtained a +separation order, but tearing it up he again took her home with +him. She went from bad to worse; even down to the deepest depths +and thence to a rescue home. He fetched her out, and they +disappeared from my neighbourhood. + +So I lost them and often wondered what the end had been. To-day +he was smiling; he had with him a youth of twenty, a scholarship +boy, the violinist. He said, "I am just going to pay for his +passage to Canada; he is going to be the pioneer, and perhaps we +shall all join him, she will do better in a new country!" On +further inquiry I found that she was trying hard, and doing +better than when I lost them. + +Thinking she needed greater interest in life, he had bought a +small business for her, but "Mr. Holmes, she broke down!" + +Alas! I knew what "breaking down" meant to the poor fellow, the +heroic fellow I ought to have said. And so for her he will leave +his kindred, home and friends; he will forsake the business that +he has so slowly and laboriously built up, he will sacrifice +anything in the hope that the air of Canada "will do her good." +let us hope that it may, for her good is all he lives for, and +her good is his religion. + +Twenty years of heartbreaking misery have not killed his love or +withered his hope. Surely love like his cannot fail of its +reward. And maybe in the new world he will have the happiness +that has been denied him in the old world, and in the evening of +his life he may have the peaceful calm that has hitherto been +denied him. For this he is seeking a place in the new world +where the partner of his life and the desire of his eyes may not +find it easy to yield to her besetting temptation, where the air +and his steadfast love will "do her good." + +But all my acquaintances are not heroes, for I am sorry to say +that my old friend Downy has served his term of penal servitude, +and is at liberty once more to beg or steal. He is not ashamed +to beg, but I know that he prefers stealing, for he richly enjoys +anything obtained "on the cross," and cares little for the fruits +of honest labour. + +Downy therefore never crosses my doorstep, and when I hold +communication with him he stands on the doorstep where I bar his +entrance. + +Yet I like the vagabond, for he is a humorous rascal, and though +I know that I ought to be severe with him, I fail dismally when I +try to exhort him. "Now, look here, old man," he will say, "stop +preaching; what are you going to do to help a fellow; do you +think I live this life for fun" and his eyes twinkle! When I +tell him that I am sure of it, he roars. Yes, I am certain of +it, Downy is a thief for the fun of it; he is the worst and +cleverest sneak I have the privilege of knowing; and yet there is +such audacity about him and his actions that even his most +reprehensible deeds do not disgust me. + +He is of the spare and lean kind, but were he fatter he might +well pose as a modern Jack Falstaff, for his one idea is summed +up in Falstaff's words: "Where shall we take a purse to-night?" +Downy, of course, obtained full remission of his sentence; he did +all that was required of him in prison, and so reduced his five +years' sentence by fifteen months. But I feel certain that he +did nor spend three years and nine months in a convict +establishment without robbing a good many, and the more difficult +he found the task, the more he would enjoy it. + +I expect his education is now complete, so I have to beware of +Downy, for he would glory in the very thought of "besting" me, so +I laugh and joke with the rascal, but keep him at arm's length. +We discuss matters on the doorstep; if he looks ill I have pity +on him, and subsidise him. Sometimes his merry look changes to a +half-pathetic look, and he goes away to his "doss house," +realising that after all his "besting" he might have done +better. + +Some of my friends have crossed the river, but as I think of them +they come back and bid me tell their stories. Here is my old +friend the famous chess-player, whose books are the poetry of +chess, but whose life was more than a tragedy. I need not say +where I met him; his face was bruised and swollen, his jawbone +was fractured, he was in trouble, so we became friends. He was a +strange fellow, and though he visited my house many times, he +would neither eat nor drink with us. He wore no overcoat even in +the most bitter weather, he carried no umbrella, neither would he +walk under one, though the rains descended and the floods came! + +He was a fatalist pure and simple, and took whatever came to him +in a thoroughly fatalist spirit. "My dear Holmes," he would say, +"why do you break your heart about me? Let me alone, let us be +friends; you are what you are because you can't help it; you +can't be anything else even if you tried. I am what I am for the +same reason. You get your happiness, I get mine. Do me a good +turn when you can, but don't reason with me; let us enjoy each +other's company and take things as they are." + +I took him on his own terms; I saw much of him, and when he was +in difficulties I helped him out. + +For a time I became his keeper, and when he had chess engagements +to fulfil I used to deliver him carriage paid to his destination +wherever it might be. He always and most punctiliously repaid +any monetary obligation I had conferred upon him, for in that +respect I found him the soul of honour, poor though he was! As I +think of him I see him dancing and yelling in the street, +surrounded by a crowd of admiring East Enders, I see him bruised +and torn hurried off to the police station, I see him standing +before the magistrate awaiting judgment. What compensation +dipsomania gave him I know not, but that he did get some kind of +wild joy I am quite sure. For I see him feverish from one +debauch, but equally feverish with the expectation of another. + +With his wife it was another story, and I can see her now full of +anxiety and dread, with no relief and no hope, except, dreadful +as it may seem, his death! For then, to use her own expression, +"she would know the worst." Poor fellow! the last time I saw +him he was nearing the end. In an underground room I sat by his +bedside, and a poor bed it was! + +As he lay propped up by pillows he was working away at his +beloved chess, writing chess notes, and solving and explaining +problems for very miserable payments, + +I knew the poverty of that underground room; and was made +acquainted with the intense disappointment of both husband and +wife when letters were received that did not contain the much- +desired postal orders. And so passed a genius; but a +dipsomaniac! A man of brilliant parts and a fellow of infinite +jest, who never did justice to his great powers, but who crowded +a continuous succession of tragedies into a short life. I am +glad to think that I did my best for him, even though I failed. +He has gone! but he still has a place in my affections and +occupies a niche in the hall of my memory. + +I very much doubt whether I am able to forget any one of the +pieces of broken humanity that have companied with me. I do not +want to forget them, for truth to tell they have been more +interesting to me than merely respectable people, and infinitely +more interesting than some good people. + +But I am afraid that my tastes are bad, and my ideals low, for I +am always happier among the very poor or the outcasts than I am +with the decent and well behaved. + +A fellow named Reid has been calling on me repeatedly; an +Australian by birth, he outraged the law so often that he got a +succession of sentences, some of them being lengthy. He tried +South Africa with a like result; South Africa soon had enough of +him, and after two sentences he was deported to England, where he +looked me up. + +He carries with him in a nice little case a certified and +attested copy of all his convictions, more than twenty in number. +He produces this without the least shame, almost with pride, and +with the utmost confidence that it would prove a ready passport +to my affection. + +I talk to him; he tells me of his life, of Australia and South +Africa; he almost hypnotises me, for he knows so much. We get on +well together till he produces the "attested copy," and then the +spell is broken, and the humour of it is too much for me, so I +laugh. + +He declares that he wants work, honest work, and he considers +that his "certificate" vouches for his bona fides. This is +undoubtedly true, but nevertheless I expect that it will be +chiefly responsible for his free passage back to Australia after +he has sampled the quality of English prisons. + +My friends and acquaintances meet me or rather I meet them, in +undesirable places; I never visit a prison without coming across +one or more of them, and they embarrass me greatly. + +A few Sundays ago I was addressing a large congregation of men in +a London prison. As I stood before them I was dismayed to see +right in the front rank an old and persistent acquaintance whom I +thoroughly and absolutely disliked, and he knew it, for on more +than one occasion I had good reason for expressing a decided +opinion about him. A smile of gleeful but somewhat mischievous +satisfaction spread over his face; he folded his arms across his +breast, he looked up at me and quite held me with his glittering +eye. + +I realised his presence, I felt that his eye was upon me, I saw +that he followed every word. He quite unnerved me till I +stumbled and tripped. Then he smiled in his evil way. + +I could not get rid of his eyes, and sometimes I half appealed to +him with a pitiful look to take them off me. But it was no use, +he still gazed at me and through me. So thinking of him and +looking at him I grew more and more confused. + +The clock fingers would not move fast enough for me. I had +elected to speak on sympathy, brotherhood and mutual help. And +this fellow to whom I had refused help again and again knew my +feelings, and made the most of his opportunity. + +But my friend will come and see me when he is once more out of +prison. He will want to discuss my address of that particular +Sunday afternoon. He will quote my words, he will remind me +about sympathy and mutual help, he will hope to leave me +rejoicing in the possession of a few shillings. + +But that will be the hour of my triumph; for then I will rejoice +in the contemplation of his disappointment as my door closes upon +him. But if I understand him aright his personal failure will +not lead him to despair, for he will appear again and again and +sometimes by deputy, and he will put others as cunning as himself +on my track. + +Some time ago I was tormented with a succession of visitors of +this description; my door was hardly free of one when another +appeared. They all told the same tale: "they had been advised +to come to me, for I was kind to men who had been in prison." + +They got no practical kindness from me, but rather some wholesome +advice. I found afterwards from a lodging-house habitue that +this man had been taking his revenge by distributing written +copies of my name and address to all the lodging-house inmates, +and advising them to call on me. And I have not the slightest +doubt that the rascal watched them come to my door, enjoyed their +disappointment, and gloried in my irritation. + +Yes, I have made the acquaintance of many undesirable fellows. +and our introduction to each other has sometimes been brought +about in a very strange manner. Sometimes they have forced +themselves upon me and insisted upon my seeing much of them, and +"knowing all about them" they would tell me of their struggles +and endeavours to "go straight" and would put their difficulties +and hopes before me. Specious clever rascals many of them were, +far too clever for me, as I sometimes found out to my cost. One +young fellow who has served a well-earned and richly merited +sentence of five years' penal servitude, quite overpowered me +with his good intentions and professions of rectitude. "No more +prison for me," he would say; he brought his wife and children to +see me, feeling sure that they would form a passport to my +sympathy and pocket. + +He was not far wrong, for I substantially and regularly helped +the wife. I had strong misgivings about the fellow, consequently +what help I gave I took care went direct to his wife. + +Sometimes he would call at my office, and with tears would thank +me for the help given to his wife and children. I noticed a +continual improvement in his clothing and appearance till he +became quite a swell. I felt a bit uneasy, for I knew that he +was not at work. I soon discovered, or rather the police +discovered that he had stolen a lot of my office note-paper of +which he had made free use, and when arrested on another charge +several blank cheques which had been abstracted from my cheque +book were found upon him. He had made himself so well known to +and familiar with the caretaker of the chambers, that one night +when he appeared with a bag of tools to put "Mr. Holmes' desk +right," no questions were asked, and he coolly and quite +deliberately, with the office door open, operated in his own +sweet way. Fortunately, when trying the dodge in another set of +chambers, he was arrested in the act, and my blank cheques among +many others were found upon him. + +Another term of penal servitude has stopped his career and put an +end to, I will not say a friendship but an acquaintance, that I +am not at any rate anxious to renew. + +They come a long way to see me do some of my friends, and put +themselves to some trouble in the matter, and not a little +expense if they are to be believed. Why they do so I cannot +imagine, for sometimes after a long and close questioning I fail +to find any satisfactory reason for their doing so. I have +listened to many strange stories, and have received not a few +startling confessions! Some of my friends have gone comforted +away when they had made a clean breast and circumstantially given +me the details of some great crime or evil that they had +committed. I never experienced any difficulty, or felt the least +compunction in granting them plenary absolution; I never betrayed +them to the police, for I knew that of the crime confessed they +were as guiltless as myself. Of course there is a good deal of +pathos about their actions, but I always felt a glow of pleasure +when I could send poor deluded people away comforted; and I am +sure that they really believed me when I told them that under no +circumstances would I betray their confidence, or acquaint the +police without first consulting them. I never had any difficulty +in keeping my promise, though sometimes my friends would, after a +long absence, remind me of it. + +But occasionally one of my friends has compelled me to seek the +advice of an astute detective, for very clever rogues, real and +dangerous criminals, have been my companions and have boasted of +my friendship, whilst pursuing a deplorably criminal course. But +I never had the slightest compunction with regard to them when I +knew beyond doubt what they were at. Friends and associates of +criminals have more than once waited on me for the purpose of +enlisting my sympathy and help for one of their colleagues who +was about to be released from prison, and the vagabonds have +actually informed detectives that "Mr. Holmes was going to take +him in hand." What they really meant was, that they had taken +Mr. Holmes in hand for the purpose of lulling the just +suspicions of the police. One day not long ago a woman, +expensively dressed and possessed of a whole mass of flaxen hair, +burst into my office. She was very excited, spoke good English +with an altogether exaggerated French accent, and her action was +altogether grotesque and stereotyped. She informed me that she +had that morning come from Paris to consult me. When I inquired +what she knew about me and how she got my address, she said that +a well-known journalist and a member of Parliament whom she had +met in Paris had advised her to consult with me about the future +of a man shortly to be discharged from prison. As during the +whole of my life I had not met or corresponded with the brilliant +gentleman she referred to, I felt doubtful, but kept silent. So +on she went with her story, first, however, offering me a sum of +money for the benefit of as consummate a villain as ever +inhabited a prison cell. + +I declined the money and refused to have anything to do with the +matter till I had had further information. Briefly her story was +as follows: The man in whom she and others were interested was +serving a term of three years for burglary. He was an educated +man, married, and father of two children. His wife loved him +dearly, and his two children were "pretty, oh, so pretty!" They +were afraid that his wife would receive him back again with open +arms, and that other children might result. They were anxious +that this should be prevented, for they felt, she was sorry to +say, that he might again revert to crime, that other +imprisonments might ensue, and that "the poor, poor little +thing," meaning the wife, might be exposed to more and worse +suffering than she had already undergone. + +Would I receive a sum of money on his account and arrange for him +to leave England? They felt that to be the wisest course, for +"he is so clever, and can soon build up a home for her when he is +away from his companions." Of his ability I had subsequently +plenty of proof, and I have no reason to doubt her statement that +he could soon "build up a home." He could very quickly--and a +luxurious home, too! + +The wife was not to be considered at all in the matter, but money +would be sent to me from time to time to help the "poor little +thing and her children!" I was interested, but I said to myself, +"This is much too good," and the ready journey from Paris rather +staggered me. I put a few simple questions, she pledged me to +secrecy. I told her that I would ask the prison authorities to +send him to me on his discharge. + +"I so please, I now go back to Paris; I come again and I bring +you money," she said, as she shook her furs and took herself and +her flaxen hair to somewhere else than Paris, so I felt +persuaded. + +Two days before the prisoner's discharge she burst in again, +huffy head, furs and gesticulation as before. "I come from Paris +this morning, I bring you money." I was not present, but I had +previously warned my assistant not to receive any money. The gay +Parisian was informed that no money could be received, but she +promptly put two sovereigns on the desk and disappeared---but not +to Paris! + +He stood before me at last, a little fellow, smart looking, +erect, self-satisfied and self-reliant. I told him of the two +sovereigns and the fluffy hair, of the good intentions of his +Parisian friend. I spoke hopefully of a new life in a new +country and of the future of his wife and children; he never +blanched. He was quite sure he knew no French lady with fluffy +hair; he had no friends, no accomplices; he wanted work, honest +work; he intended to make amends for the past; he "would build up +a home" for his wife and children. + +I saw much of him; we lunched together and we smoked together, +and he talked a good deal. His wife fell ill owing to very hard +work, and I befriended her. He accepted the two pounds and asked +for more! He was a citizen of the world, and spoke more than one +language. Our companionship continued for some months, and then +my friend and myself had to sever our connection. + +He was one of a gang of very clever thieves, who operated on a +large scale, and who for cool audacity and originality were, I +think, almost unequalled! + +They engaged expensive suites of rooms or flats, furnished them +most expensively on credit or the hire system, insured the goods +against burglary, promptly burgled themselves, sold the goods, +realised the insurance, and then vanished to repeat their +proceedings elsewhere. + +So clever were they at the business that costly but portable +goods were freely submitted to their tender mercies. They +invariably engaged rooms that possessed a "skylight." It was my +friend's business to do the burgling, and this he did by +carefully removing the glass from the skylight, being careful not +to break it; needless to say, he removed the glass from the +inside and carefully deposited it on the roof, the valuables +making their exit through the room door and down the staircase in +broad daylight. + +My friend, who spoke Dutch fluently and accurately, has, I +understood, sold to English merchants whose probity was beyond +dispute the proceeds of some of his "firm's" operations. This +game went on for a time, the Parisian lady with the false hair +being one of the confederates. He disappeared, however, and I am +glad to think that for some considerable time society will be +safeguarded from the woman with the flaxen hair, and the +operations of a clever scoundrel. + +I am glad to say that the number of my friends and acquaintances +who have seriously tried to "best" me form but a small proportion +of the whole. Generally they have, I believe, been animated with +good intentions, though the failure to carry them out has +frequently been manifest and deplorable. + +I am persuaded that weakness is more disastrous to the world than +absolute wickedness, for nothing in the whole of my life's +experience has taken more out of me, and given me so much +heartbreaking disappointment as my continued efforts on behalf of +really well-intentioned individuals, who could not stand alone +owing to their lack of grit and moral backbone. For redemptive +purposes I would rather, a hundred times rather, have to deal +with a big sinner than with a human jellyfish, a flabby man who +does no great wrong, but on the other hand does not the slightest +good. + +But, as I have already said, though all my friends and +acquaintances were dwellers in a dark land, not all of them were +"known to the police"; indeed, many of them ought to be +classified as "known to the angels," for their real goodness has +again and again rebuked and inspired me. + +Oh the patience, fortitude and real heroism I have met with in my +acquaintances among the poor. Strength in time of trial, virtue +amidst obscenity, suffering long drawn out and perpetual self- +denial are characteristics that abound in many of my poorest +friends, and in some of the chapters that are to follow I shall +tell more fully of them, but just now I am amongst neither +sinners nor saints, but with my friends "in motley." I mean the +men and women who have occupied so much of my time and +endeavours, but whose position I knew was hopeless. + +How they interested me, those demented friends of mine! they +were a perpetual wonder to me, and I am glad to remember that I +never passed hard judgment upon them, or gave them hard words. +And I owe much to them, a hundred times more than the whole of +them are indebted to me; for I found that I could not take an +interest in any one of them, nor make any fruitless, any perhaps +foolish effort to truly help them, without doing myself more good +than I could possibly have done to them. Fifteen years I stood +by, and stood up for demented Jane Cakebread, and we became +inseparably connected. She abused me right royally, and her +power of invective was superb. When she was not in prison she +haunted my house and annoyed my neighbours. She patronised me +most graciously when she accepted a change of clothing from me; +she lived in comparative luxury when I provided lodgings for her; +she slept out of doors when I did not. + +She bestowed her affections on me and made me heir to her non- +existent fortune; she proposed marriage to me, although she +frequently met and admired my good wife. All this and more, year +after year! + +Poor old Jane! I owe much to her, and I am quite willing, nay, +anxious, to say that in a great measure Jane Cakebread was the +making of Thomas Holmes. + +Years have passed since we laid Jane gently to rest, but she +comes back to me and dominates me whenever I mentally call my old +friends together. Her voice is the loudest, her speech the most +voluble, and her manner the most assertive of all my motley +friends. They are all gathering around me as I write. My friend +who teaches music by colour is here, my friend with his secret +invention that will dispense with steam and electricity is here +too; "Little Ebbs" the would-be policeman is here too; the prima +donna whose life was more than a tragedy, the architect with his +wonderful but never accepted designs, the broken artist with his +pictures, the educated but non-sober lady who could convert +plaster models into marble statuary are all with me. The +unspeakably degraded parson smoking cigarettes, his absence of +shirt hidden by a rusty cassock, lolls in my easy-chair; my +burglar friend who had "done" forty years and was still asking +for more, they are all around me! And my dipsomaniac friends +have come too! I hear them talking and arguing, when a strident +voice calls out, "No arguing! no arguing! argument spoils +everything!" and Jane stops the talk of others by occupying the +platform herself and recites a chapter from the book of Job. I +am living it all over again! + +And now troop in my suffering friends. Here is the paralysed +woman of thirty-five who has for twenty years lain in bed the +whiles her sister has worked incessantly to maintain her! Here +is my widow friend who after working fifteen hours daily for +years was dragged from the Lea. As she sits and listens her +hands are making matchboxes and throwing them over her shoulder, +one, two, three, four! right, left! they go to the imaginary +heaps upon the imaginary beds. While blighted children are +crawling upon the floor looking up at me with big eyes. Here is +my patient old friend who makes "white flowers" although she is +eighty years of age, and still keeps at it, though, thank God, +she gets the old-age pension. + +Now come in the young men and maidens, the blighted blossoms of +humanity who wither and die before the time of fruition, for that +fell disease consumption has laid its deadly hand upon them. + +Oh! the mystery of it all, the sorrow and madness of it all! I +open my door and they file out. Some back to the unseen world, +some back to the lower depths of this world! Surely they are a +motley lot, are my friends and acquaintances; they are as varied +as humanity itself. So they represent to me all the moods and +tenses of humanity, all its personal, social and industrial +problems. I have a pitiful heart; I try to keep a philosophic +mind; I am cheery with them; I am doubtful, I am hopeful! + +I never give help feeling sure that I have done wisely, I never +refuse the worst and feel sure that I have done well. I live +near the heart of humanity, I count its heart-beats, I hear its +throbs. + +I realise some of the difficulties that beset us, I see some of +the heights and depths to which humanity can ascend or descend. +I have learned that the greatest factors in life are kindly +sympathy, brotherly love, a willingness to believe the best of +the worst, and to have an infinite faith in the ultimate triumph +of good! + + + +CHAPTER II + +LONDON'S UNDERWORLD + +London's great underworld to many may be an undiscovered country. +To me it is almost as familiar as my own fireside; twenty-five +years of my life have been spent amongst its inhabitants, and +their lives and circumstances have been my deep concern. + +Sad and weary many of those years have been, but always full of +absorbing interest. Yet I have found much that gave me pleasure, +and it is no exaggeration when I say that some of my happiest +hours have been spent among the poorest inhabitants of the great +underworld. + +But whether happy or sorrowful, I was always interested, for the +strange contrasts and the ever-varying characteristics and lives +of the inhabitants always compelled attention, interest and +thought. There is much in this underworld to terrorise, but +there is also much to inspire. + +Horrible speech and strange tongues are heard in it, accents of +sorrow and bursts of angry sound prevail in it. + +Drunkenness, debauchery, crime and ignorance are never absent; +and in it men and women grown old in sin and crime spend their +last evil days. The whining voice of the professional mendicant +is ever heard in its streets, for its poverty-stricken +inhabitants readily respond to every appeal for help. + +So it is full of contrasts; for everlasting toil goes on, and the +hum of industry ever resounds. Magnificent self-reliance is +continually exhibited, and self-denial of no mean order is the +rule. + +The prattle of little children and the voice of maternal love +make sweet music in its doleful streets, and glorious devotion +dignifies and illumines the poorest homes. + +But out of the purlieus of this netherworld strange beings issue +when the shades of evening fall. + +Men whose hands are against every man come forth to deeds of +crime, like beasts to seek their prey! Women, fearsome +creatures, whose steps lead down to hell, to seek their male +companions. + +Let us stand and watch! + +Here comes a poor, smitten, wretched old man; see how he hugs the +rags of his respectability; his old frayed frock-coat is buttoned +tightly around him, and his outstretched hands tell that he is +eager for the least boon that pity can bestow. He has found that +the way of the transgressor is hard; he has kissed the bloom of +pleasure's painted lips, he has found them pale as death! + +But others follow, and hurry by. And a motley lot they are; +figure and speech, complexion and dress all combine to create +dismay; but they have all one common characteristic. They want +money! and are not particular about the means of getting it. +Now issue forth an innumerable band who during the day have been +sleeping off the effects of last night's debauch. With eager +steps, droughty throats and keen desire they seek the wine cup +yet again. + +Now come fellows, young and middle-aged, who dare not be seen by +day, for whom the police hold "warrants," for they have absconded +from wives and children, leaving them chargeable to the parish. + +Here are men who have robbed their employers, here young people +of both sexes who have drained Circe's cup and broken their +parents' hearts. + +Surely it is a strange and heterogeneous procession that issues +evening by evening from the caves and dens of London's +underworld. But notice there is also a returning procession! +For as the sun sinks to rest, sad-faced men seek some cover where +they may lie down and rest their weary bones; where perchance +they may sleep and regain some degree of passive courage that +will enable them, at the first streak of morning light, to rise +and begin again a disheartening round of tramp, tramp, searching +for work that is everlastingly denied them. Hungry and footsore, +their souls fainting within them, they seek the homes where wives +and children await their return with patient but hopeless +resignation. + +Take notice if you will of the places they enter, for surely the +beautiful word "home" is desecrated if applied to most of their +habitations. Horrid places within and without, back to back and +face to face they stand. + +At their doorway death stands ready to strike. In the murky +light of little rooms filled with thick air child-life has +struggled into existence; up and down their narrow stairs patient +endurance and passive hopelessness ever pass and repass. + +Small wonder that the filthy waters of a neighbouring canal woo +and receive so many broken hearts and emaciated bodies. + +But the procession now changes its sex, for weary widowed women +are returning to children who for many hours have been lacking a +mother's care, for mothers in the underworld must work if +children must eat. + +So the weary widows have been at the wash-tubs all day long, and +are coming home with two shillings hardly earned. They call in +at the dirty general shop, where margarine, cheese, bread, tinned +meat and firewood are closely commingled in the dank air. + +A loaf, a pennyworth of margarine, a pennyworth of tea, a bundle +of firewood, half a pound of sugar, a pint of lamp-oil exhaust +their list of purchases, for the major part of their earnings is +required for the rent. + +So they climb their stairs, they feed the children, put them +unwashed to bed, do some necessary household work, and then +settle down themselves in some shape, without change of attire, +that they may rest and be ready for the duties of the ensuing +day. Perhaps sweet oblivion will come even to them. "Blessings +on the man who invented sleep," cried Sancho Panza, and there is +a world of truth in his ecstatic exclamation, "it wraps him round +like a garment." + +Aye, that it does, for what would the poor weary women and men of +London's underworld do without it? What would the sick and +suffering be without it? In tiny rooms where darkness is made +visible by penny-worths of oil burned in cheap and nasty lamps, +there is no lack of pain and suffering, and no lack of patient +endurance and passive heroism. + +As night closes in and semi-darkness reigns around, when the +streets are comparatively silent, when children's voices are no +longer heard, come with me and explore! + +It is one o'clock a.m., and we go down six steps into what is +facetiously termed a "breakfast parlour"; here we find a man and +woman about sixty years of age. The woman is seated at a small +table on which stands a small, evil-smelling lamp, and the man is +seated at another small table, but gets no assistance from the +lamp; he works in comparative gloom, for he is almost blind; he +works by touch. + +For fifty years they have been makers of artificial flowers; both +are clever artists, and the shops of the West End have fairly +blazed with the glory of their roses. Winsome lassie's and +serene ladies have made themselves gay with their flowers. + +There they sit, as they have sat together for thirty years. +Neither can read or write, but what can be done in flowers they +can do. Long hours and dark rooms have made the man almost +blind. + +He suffers also from heart disease and dropsy. He cannot do +much, but he can sit, and sit, while his wife works and works, +for in the underworld married women must work if dying husbands +are to be cared for. + +So for fifteen hours daily and nightly they sit at their roses! +Then they lie down on the bed we see in the corner, but sleep +does not come, for asthma troubles him, and he must be attended +and nursed. + +Shall we pay another visit to that underworld room? Come, then. +Two months have passed away, the evil-smelling lamp is still +burning, the woman still sits at the table, but no rose-leaves +are before her; she is making black tulips. On the bed lies a +still form with limbs decently smoothed and composed; the poor +blind eyes are closed for ever. He is awaiting the day of +burial, and day after day the partner of his life and death is +sitting, and working, for in this underworld bereaved wives must +work if husbands are to be decently buried. The black tulips she +will wear as mourning for him; she will accompany his poor body +to the cemetery, and then return to live alone and to finish her +work alone. + +But let us continue our midnight explorations, heedless of the +men and women now returning from their nightly prowl who jostle +us as they pass. + +We enter another room where the air is thick and makes us sick +and faint. We stand at the entrance and look around; we see +again the evil-smelling lamp, and again a woman at work at a +small table, and she too is a widow! + +She is making cardboard boxes, and pretty things they are. Two +beds are in the room, and one contains three, and the other two +children. On the beds lie scores of dainty boxes. The outside +parts lie on one bed, and the insides on the other. They are +drying while the children sleep; by and by they will be put +together, tied in dozens, and next morning taken to the factory. +But of their future history we dare not inquire. + +The widow speaks to us, but her hands never rest; we notice the +celerity of her movements, the dreadful automatic certainty of +her touch is almost maddening; we wait and watch, but all in +vain, for some false movement that shall tell us she is a human +and not a machine. But no, over her shoulder to the bed on the +left side, or over her shoulder to the bed on her right side, the +boxes fly, and minute by minute and hour by hour the boxes will +continue to grow till her task is completed. Then she will put +them together, tie them in dozens, and lay herself down on that +bed that contains the two children. + +Need we continue? I think not, but it may give wings to +imagination when I say that in London's underworld there are at +least 50,000 women whose earnings do not exceed three halfpence +per hour, and who live under conditions similar to those +described. Working, working, day and night, when they have work +to do, practically starving when work is scarce. + +The people of the underworld are not squeamish, they talk freely, +and as a matter of course about life and death. Their children +are at an early age made acquainted with both mysteries; a dead +child and one newly born sometimes occupy a room with other +children. + +People tell me of the idleness of the underworld and there is +plenty of it; but what astonishes me is the wonderful, the +persistent, but almost unrewarded toil that is unceasingly going +on, in which even infants share. + +Come again with me in the day-time, climb with me six dark and +greasy flights of stairs, for the underworld folk are sometimes +located near the sky. + +In this Bastille the passages are very narrow, and our shoulders +sometimes rub the slimy moisture from the walls. On every +landing in the semi-darkness we perceive galleries running to +right and to left. On the little balconies, one on every floor, +children born in this Bastille are gasping for air through iron +bars. + +There are three hundred suites of box rooms in this Bastille, +which means that three hundred families live like ants in it. +Let us enter No. 250. Time: 3.30 p.m. Here lives a blind +matchbox-maker and his wife with their seven children. The +father has gone to take seven gross of boxes to the factory, for +the mother cannot easily climb up and down the stone stairs of +the Bastille. So she sits everlastingly at the boxes, the beds +are covered with them, the floor is covered with them, and the +air is thick with unpleasant moisture. + +One, two, three, four, there they go over her shoulder to the bed +or floor; on the other side of the table sits a child of four, +who, with all the apathy of an adult if not with equal celerity, +gums or pastes the labels for his mother. The work must be "got +in," and the child has been kept at home to take his share in the +family toil. + +In this Bastille the children of the underworld live and die, for +death reaps here his richest harvest. Never mind! the funeral +of one child is only a pageant for others. Here women work and +starve, and here childhood, glorious childhood, is withered and +stricken; but here, too, the wicked, the vile, the outcast and +the thief find sanctuary. + +The strange mixture of it all bewilders me, fascinates me, +horrifies me, and yet sometimes it encourages me and almost +inspires me. For I see that suffering humanity possesses in no +mean degree those three great qualities, patience, fortitude and +endurance. + +For perchance these three qualities will feel and grope for a +brighter life and bring about a better day. + +Though in all conscience funerals are numerous enough in this bit +of the underworld, and though the conditions are bad enough to +destroy its inhabitants, yet the people live on and on, for even +death itself sometimes seems reluctant to befriend them. + +Surely there is nothing in the underworld so extraordinary as the +defiance flung in the face of death by its poor, feeble, ill- +nourished, suffering humanity. + +According to every well-known rule they ought to die, and not to +linger upon the order of their dying. But linger they do, and in +their lingering exhibit qualities which ought to regenerate the +whole race. It is wonderful upon what a small amount of +nourishment humanity can exist, and still more wonderful under +what conditions it can survive. + +Shall we look in at a house that I know only too well? Come +again, then! + +Here sits an aged widow of sixty-four at work on infants' shoes, +a daughter about twenty-six is at work on infants' socks. +Another daughter two years older is lying on her back in an +invalid's chair, and her deft fingers are busily working, for +although paralysis has taken legs, the upper part of her body has +been spared. The three live together and pool their earnings; +they occupy two very small rooms, for which they pay five +shillings weekly. + +After paying twopence each to avoid parish funerals, they have +five shillings left weekly for food, firing, clothing and +charity. Question them, and you will learn how they expend those +five shillings. "How much butter do you allow yourselves during +the week?" The widow answers: "Two ounces of shilling butter +once a week." "Yes, mother," says the invalid, "on a Saturday." +She knew the day of the week and the hour too, when her eyes +brightened at the sight of three-halfpenny worth of butter. +Truly they fared sumptuously on the Sabbath, for they tasted +"shilling butter." + +But they refuse to die, and I have not yet discovered the point +at which life ebbs out for lack of food, for when underworld folk +die of starvation we are comforted by the assurance that they +died "from natural causes." + +I suppose that if the four children all over eight years of age, +belonging to a widow machinist well known to me, had died, their +death would have been attributed to "natural causes." She had +dined them upon one pennyworth of stewed tapioca without either +sugar or milk. Sometimes the children had returned to school +without even that insult to their craving stomachs. But "natural +causes" is the euphonious name given by intelligent juries to +starvation, when inquests are held in the underworld. Herein is +a mystery: in the land of plenty, whose granaries, depots, +warehouses are full to repletion, and whose countless ships are +traversing every ocean, bringing the food and fruits of the earth +to its shores, starvation is held to be a natural cause of death. + +Here let me say, and at once, that the two widows referred to are +but specimens of a very large company, and that from among my own +acquaintances I can with a very short notice assemble one +thousand women whose lives are as pitiful, whose food is as +limited, whose burdens are as heavy, but whose hearts are as +brave as those I have mentioned. + +The more I know of these women and their circumstances, the more +and still more I am amazed. How they manage to live at all is a +puzzle, but they do live, and hang on to life like grim death +itself. I believe I should long for death were I placed under +similar conditions to those my underworld friends sustain without +much complaining. + +They have, of course, some interests in life, especially when the +children are young, but for themselves they are largely content +to be, to do, and to suffer. + +Very simple and very limited are their ambitions; they are +expressed in the wish that their children may rise somehow or +other from the world below to the world above, where food is more +plentiful and labour more remunerative. But my admiration and +love for the honest workers below the line are leading me to +forget the inhabitants that are far removed from honesty, and to +whom industry is a meaningless word. + +There are many of them, and a mixed lot they are. The deformed, +the crippled and the half-witted abound. Rogues and rascals, +brutes in human form, and human forms that are harking back to +the brute abound also. With some we may sound the lowest depths, +with others we may ascend to glorious heights. This is the +wonder of underworld. Some of its inhabitants have come down, +and are going lower still. Others are struggling with slippery +feet to ascend the inclined plane that leads to the world above. +Some in their misery are feebly hoping for a hand that will +restore them to the world they have for ever lost! + +And there are others who find their joy in this netherworld! For +here every restraint may be abandoned and every decency may be +outraged. Here are men and women whose presence casts a blight +upon everything fresh and virtuous that comes near them. + +Here the children grow old before their time, for like little +cubs they lie huddled upon each other when the time for sleep +comes. Not for them the pretty cot, the sweet pillow and clean +sheets! but the small close room, the bed or nest on the floor, +the dirty walls and the thick air. Born into it, breathing it as +soon as their little lungs begin to operate, thick, dirty air +dominates their existence or terminates their lives. + +"Glorious childhood" has no place here, to sweet girlhood it is +fatal, and brave boyhood stands but little chance. + +Though here and there one and another rise superior to +environment and conditions, the great mass are robbed of the full +stature of their bodies, of their health, their brain power and +their moral life. + +But their loss is not the nation's gain, for the nation loses +too! For the nation erects huge buildings falsely called +workhouses, tremendous institutions called prisons. Asylums in +ever-increasing numbers are required to restrain their feeble +bodies, and still feebler minds! + +Let us look at the contrasts! Their houses are so miserably +supplied with household goods that even a rash and optimistic man +would hesitate before offering a sovereign for an entire home, +yet pawnshops flourish exceedingly, although the people possess +nothing worth pawning. Children are half fed, for the earnings +of parents are too meagre to allow a sufficient quantity of +nourishing food; but public-houses do a roaring trade on the +ready-money principle, while the chandler supplies scraps of food +and half-ounces of tea on very long credit. + +Money, too, is scarce, very scarce, yet harpies grow rich by +lending the inhabitants small sums from a shilling up to a pound +at a rate of interest that would stagger and paralyse the +commercial world. Doctors must needs to content with a miserable +remuneration for their skilled and devoted services, when paid at +all! but burial societies accumulate millions from a weekly +collection of ill-spared coppers. Strangest of all, undertakers +thrive exceedingly, but the butcher and baker find it hard work +to live. + +Yes, the underworld of London is full of strange anomalies and +queer contradictions. When I survey it I become a victim to +strange and conflicting emotions. + +Sometimes I am disgusted with the dirt and helplessness of the +people. Sometimes I burn with indignation at their wrongs. But +when I enter their houses I feel that I would like to be an +incendiary on a wholesale scale. Look again! I found the boot- +machinist widow that I have mentioned, in Bethnal Green; she was +ill in bed, lying in a small room; ill though she was, and +miniature as the room was, two girls aged twelve and fourteen +slept with her and shared her bed, while a youth and a boy slept +in a coal-hole beneath the stairs. Nourishment and rest somewhat +restored the woman, and to give her and the children a chance I +took for them a larger house. I sent them bedding and furniture, +the house being repaired and repainted, for the previous tenant +had allowed it to take fire, but the fire had not been successful +enough! I called on the family at midday, and as I stood in the +room, bugs dropped from the ceiling upon me. The widow's work +was covered with them; night and day the pests worried the +family, there was no escaping them; I had to fly, and again +remove the family. How can the poor be clean and self-respecting +under such conditions! + +For be it known this is the normal condition of thousands of +human habitations in London's great underworld. How can +cleanliness and self-respect survive? Yet sometimes they do +survive, but at a terrible cost, for more and still more of the +weekly income must go in rent, which means less and still less +for food and clothing. Sometimes the grossness and impurity, the +ignorance and downright wickedness of the underworld appal and +frighten me. + +But over this I must draw a veil, for I dare not give +particulars; I think, and think, and ask myself again and again +what is to be the end of it all! Are we to have two distinct +races! those below and those above? Is Wells' prophecy to come +true; will the one race become uncanny, loathsome abortions with +clammy touch and eyes that cannot face the light? Will the other +become pretty human butterflies? I hope not, nay, I am sure that +Wells is wrong! For there is too much real goodness in the upper +world and too much heroism and endurance in the underworld to +permit such an evolution to come about. + +But it is high time that such a possibility was seriously +considered. It is high time, too, that the lives and +necessities, the wrongs and the rights of even the gross poor in +the underworld were considered. + +For the whole social and industrial system is against them. +Though many of them are parasites, preying upon society or upon +each other, yet even they become themselves the prey of other +parasites, who drain their blood night and day. + +So I ask in all seriousness, is it not high time that the +exploitation of the poor, because they are poor, should cease. +See how it operates: a decent married woman loses her husband; +his death leaves her dependent upon her own labour. She has +children who hitherto have been provided with home life, food and +clothing; in fact the family had lived a little above the poverty +line, though not far removed from it. + +She had lived in the upper world, but because her husband dies, +she is precipitated into the lower world, to seek a new home and +some occupation whereby she and her children may live. + +Because she is a widow, and poor and helpless, she becomes the +prey of the sweater. Henceforth she must work interminable hours +for a starvation wage. Because she is a mother, poor and +helpless, she becomes the prey of the house farmer. Henceforward +half her earnings must go in rent, though her house and its +concomitants are detestable beyond words. + +But though she is poor, her children must be fed, and though she +is a widowed mother, she, even she, must eat sometimes. +Henceforward she must buy food of a poor quality, in minute +quantities, of doubtful weight, at the highest price. She is +afraid that death may enter her home and find her unprepared for +a funeral, so she pays one penny weekly for each of her children +and twopence for herself to some collection society. + +All through this procedure her very extremities provide +opportunities to others for spoliation, and so her continued life +in the underworld is assured. But her children are ill- +nourished, ill-clothed, ill-lodged and ill-bathed, and the gutter +is their playground. They do not develop properly in mind or +body, when of age they are very poor assets considered +financially or industrially. They become permanent residents of +the underworld and produce after their kind. + +So the underworld is kept populated from many sources. Widows +with their children are promptly kicked into it, others descend +into it by a slow process of social and industrial gravitation. +Some descend by the downward path of moral delinquency, and some +leap into it as if to commit moral and social death. + +And surely 'tis a mad world! How can it be otherwise with all +this varied and perplexed humanity seething it, with all these +social and industrial wrongs operating upon it. But I see the +dawn of a brighter day! when helpless widow mothers will no +longer be the spoil of the sweater and the house "farmer." The +dawn has broke! before these words are printed thousands of +toiling women in London's underworld will rejoice! for the wages +of cardboard box-makers will be doubled. The sun is rising! for +one by one all the terrible industries in which the women of the +underworld are engaged will of a certainty come within the +operations of a law that will stay the hand of the oppressors. +And there will be less toil for the widows and more food for the +children in the days that are to be. + +But before that day fully comes, let me implore the women of the +upper world to be just if not generous to the women below. Let +me ask them not to exact all their labours, nor to allow the +extremities of their sisters to be a reason for under-payment +when useful service is rendered. Again I say, and I say it with +respect and sorrow, that many women are thoughtless if not unjust +in their business dealings with other women. + +I am more concerned for the industrial and social rights of women +than I am for their political rights; votes they may have if you +please. But by all that is merciful let us give them justice! +For the oppression of women, whether by women or men, means a +perpetuation of the underworld with all its sorrows and horrors; +and the under-payment of women has a curse that smites us all the +way round. + +And if a word of mine can reach the toiling sisters in the +netherworld, I would say to them: Be hopeful! Patient I know +you to be! enduring you certainly are! brave beyond expression +I have found you. Now add to your virtues, hope! + +For you have need of it, and you have cause for it. I rejoice +that so many of you are personally known to me! You and I, my +sisters, have had much communion, and many happy times together; +for sometimes we have had surcease from toil and a breath of +God's fresh air together. + +Be hopeful! endure a little longer; for a new spirit walks this +old world to bless it, and to right your long-continued wrongs. + +Oh! how you have suffered, sisters mine! and while I have been +writing this chapter you have all been around me. But you are +the salt of the underworld; you are much better than the ten just +men that were not found in Sodom. And when for the underworld +the day of redemption arrives, it will be you, my sisters, the +simple, the suffering, enduring women that will have hastened it! + +So I dwell upon the good that is in the netherworld, in the sure +and certain hope, whether my feeble words and life help forward +the time or not, that the day is not far distant when the dead +shall rise! When justice, light and sweetness will prevail, and +in prevailing will purify the unexplored depths of the sad +underworld. + +I offer no apology for inserting the following selections from +London County Council proceedings. Neither do I make any +comment, other than to say that the statements made present +matters in a much too favourable light. + +"LONDON'S CHILD SLAVES + +"OVERWORK AND BAD NUTRITION + +"Disclosures in L.C.C. Report. + +(From the Daily Press, December 1911) + +"The comments passed by members of the L.C.C. at the Education +Committee meeting upon the annual report of the medical officer +of that committee made it clear that many very interesting +contents of the report had not been made public. + +"The actual report, which we have now seen, contains much more +that deserves the serious attention of all who are interested in +the problem of the London school child. + +"There is, for example, a moving page on child life in a north- +west poverty area, where, among other conditions, it is not +uncommon to find girls of ten doing a hard day's work outside +their school work; they are the slaves of their mothers and +grandmothers. + +"The great amount of anaemia and malnutrition among the children +in this area (says the report) is due to poverty, with its +resultant evils of dirt, ill-feeding and under-feeding, neglect +and female labour. + +"Cheap food.--The necessity for buying cheap food results in the +purchasing of foodstuffs which are deficient in nutrient +properties. The main articles of diet are indifferent bread and +butter, the fag ends of coarse meat, the outside leaves of green +vegetables, and tea, and an occasional pennyworth of fried fish +and potatoes. Children who are supplied with milk at school, or +who are given breakfast and dinner, respond at once to the better +feeding, and show distinct improvement in their class work. The +unemployment among the men obliges the women to seek for work +outside the home, and the under-payment of female labour has its +effect upon the nutrition of the family. + +"'Investigation in the senior departments of one school showed +that 144 children were being supported by their mothers only, 57 +were living on their sisters, 68 upon the joint earnings of elder +brothers and sisters, while another 130 had mothers who went out +to work in order to supplement the earnings of the father. + +"'Approximately one-third of the children in this neighbourhood +are supported by female labour. With the mother at work the +children rapidly become neglected, the boys get out of control, +they play truant, they learn to sleep out, and become known to +the police while they are still in the junior mixed department.' + +"The Girl Housewife.--The maintenance of the home, the cooking +and catering, is done by an elderly girl who sometimes may not be +more than ten years of age. The mother's earnings provide bread +and tea for the family and pay the rent, but leave nothing over +for clothing or boots. + +"Many of the boys obtain employment out of school hours, for +which they are paid and for which they may receive food; others +learn to hang about the gasworks and similar places, and get +scraps of food and halfpence from the workmen. In consequence +they may appear to be better nourished than the girls 'who work +beyond their strength at domestic work, step cleaning, baby +minding, or carrying laundry bundles and running errands.' For +this labour they receive no remuneration, since it is done for +the family. + +"A remarkable paragraph of the report roundly declares-- + +"'The provision generally at cost price of school meals for all +who choose to pay for them would be a national economy, which +would do much to improve the status of the feeding centres and +the standard of feeding. This principle is applied most +successfully in schools of a higher grade, and might well be +considered in connection with the ordinary elementary schools of +the Council. Such a provision would probably be of the greatest +benefit to the respectable but very poor, who are too proud to +apply for charity meals, and whose children are often penalised +by want, and the various avoidable defects or ailments that come +in its train.' + +"Feeding wanted.--Of the children of a Bethnal Green school, the +school doctor is quoted as reporting that 'it was not hospital +treatment but feeding that was wanted.' + +"Among curious oddments of information contained in the report, +it is mentioned that the children of widows generally show +superior physique. + +"The teeth are often better in children from the poorer homes, +'perhaps from use on rougher food materials which leaves less +DEBRIS to undergo fermentation.' + +"'Children of poorer homes also often have the advantage of the +fresh air of the streets, whilst the better-off child is kept +indoors and becomes flabby and less resistant to minor ailments. +The statistics of infantile mortality suggest that the children +of the poorer schools have also gone through a more severe +selection; disease weeding out by natural selection, and the less +fit having succumbed before school age, the residue are of +sturdier type than in schools or classes where such selection has +been less intense.'" + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE NOMADS + +A considerable portion of the inhabitants of the world below the +line are wanderers, without home, property, work or any visible +means of existence. For twenty years it has been the fashion to +speak of them as the "submerged," and a notable philanthropist +taught the public to believe that they formed one-tenth of our +population. + +It was currently reported in the Press that the philanthropist I +have referred to offered to take over and salve this mass of +human wreckage for the sum of one million pounds. His offer was +liberally responded to; whether he received the million or not +does not matter, for he has at any rate been able to call to his +assistance thousands of men and women, and to set them to work in +his own peculiar way to save the "submerged." + +From a not unfriendly book just published, written by one who was +for more than twenty years intimately associated with him, and +one of the chief directors of his salvage work, we learn that the +result has largely been a failure. + +To some of us this failure had been apparent for many years, and +though we hoped much from the movement, we could not close our +eyes to facts, and reluctantly had to admit that the number of +the "submerged" did not appreciably lessen. + +True, shelters, depots, bridges, homes and labour homes were +opened with astonishing celerity. Wood was chopped and paper +sorted in immense quantities, but shipwrecked humanity passed +over bridges that did not lead to any promised land, and abject +humanity ascended with the elevators that promptly lowered them +to depths on the other side. + +Stimulated by the apparent success or popularity of the Salvation +Army, the Church Army sprang into existence, and disputed with +the former the claim to public patronage, and the right to save! +It adopted similar means, it is certain with similar results, for +the "submerged" are still with us. + +I say that both these organisations pursued the same methods and +worked practically on the same lines, for both called into their +service a number of enthusiastic young persons, clothed them in +uniforms, horribly underpaid them, and set them to work to save +humanity and solve social and industrial problems, problems for +which wiser and more experienced people fail to find a solution. +It would be interesting to discover what has become of the tens +of thousands of enthusiastic men and women who have borne the +uniform of these organisations for periods longer or shorter, and +who have disappeared from the ranks. + +How many of them are "submerged" I cannot say, but I know that +some have been perilously near it. + +I am persuaded that this is a dangerous procedure, very dangerous +procedure, and the subscribing public has some right to ask what +has become of all the "officers" who, drawn from useful work to +these organisations, have disappeared. + +But as a continual recruiting keeps up the strength, the +subscribing public does not care to ask, for the public is quite +willing to part with its vested interests in human wreckage. All +this leads me to say once more that the "submerged" are still +with us. Do you doubt it? Then come with me; let us take a +midnight walk on the Thames Embankment; any night will do, wet or +dry, winter or summer! + +Big Ben is striking the hour as we commence our walk at +Blackfriars; we have with us a sack of food and a number of +second-hand overcoats. The night is cold, gusty and wet, and we +think of our warm and comfortable beds and almost relinquish our +expedition. The lights on Blackfriars Bridge reveal the murky +waters beneath, and we see that the tide is running out. + +We pass in succession huge buildings devoted to commerce, +education, religion and law; we pass beautiful gardens, and +quickly we arrive at the Temple. The lamps along the roadway +give sufficient light for our purpose, for they enable us to see +that here and there on the seats and in the recesses of the +Embankment are strange beings of both sexes. + +Yonder are two men, unkempt and unshaven, their heads bent +forward and their hands thrust deep into their trousers pockets +and, to all appearance, asleep. + +Standing in a sheltered corner of the Temple Station we see +several other men, who are smoking short pipes which they +replenish from time to time with bits of cigars and cigarettes +that they have gathered during the day from the streets of +London. + +I know something of the comedy and tragedy of cigar ends, for +times and again I have seen a race and almost a struggle for a +"fat end" when some thriving merchant has thrown one into the +street or gutter. Suddenly emerging from obscurity and showing +unexpected activity, two half-naked fellows have made for it; I +have seen the satisfaction of the fellow who secured it, and I +have heard the curse of the disappointed; but there! at any +time, on any day, near the Bank, or the Mansion House, in +Threadneedle Street, or in Cheapside such sights may be seen by +those who have eyes to see. + +These two fellows have been successful, for they are assuaging +the pangs of hunger by smoking their odds and ends. They look at +us as we pass to continue our investigation. Here on a seat we +find several men of motley appearance; one is old and bent, his +white beard covers his chest, he has a massive head, he is a +picturesque figure, and would stand well for a representation of +Old Father Thames, for the wet streams from his hair, his beard +and his ample moustache. Beside him sits a younger man, weak and +ill. His worn clothing tells us of better days, and we +instinctively realise that not much longer will he sit out the +midnight hours on the cold Embankment. + +Before we distribute our clothes and food, we continue our +observation. What strikes us most is the silence, for no one +speaks to us, no hand is held out for a gift, no requests are +made for help. + +They look at us unconcernedly as we pass; they appear to bear +their privations with indifference or philosophy. Yonder is a +woman leaning over the parapet looking into the mud and water +below; we speak to her, and she turns about and faces us. Then +we realise that Hood's poem comes into our mind; we offer her a +ticket for a "shelter," which she declines; we offer her food, +but she will have none of it; she asks us to leave her, and we +pass on. + +Here is a family group, father and mother with two children; +their attire and appearance tell us that they are tramps; the +mother has a babe close to her breast, and round it she has wrapt +her old shawl; a boy of five sits next to her, and the father is +close up. + +The parents evidently have been bred in vagrancy, and the +children, and, unless the law intervenes, their children are +destined to continue the species. The whining voice of the woman +and the outstretched hands of the boy let us know that they are +eager and ready for any gift that pity can bestow. + +But we give nothing, and let me say that after years of +experience, I absolutely harden my heart and close my pocket +against the tramping beggar that exploits little children. And +to those who drag children, droning out hymns through our quiet +streets on Sunday, my sympathies extend to a horsewhip. + +We leave the tramps, and come upon a poor shivering wretch of +about thirty-five years; his face presents unmistakable signs of +disease more loathsome than leprosy; he is not fit to live, he is +not fit to die; he is an outcast from friends, kindred and home. +He carries his desolation with him, and the infirmary or the +river will be the end of him. + +Here are two stalwart fellows, big enough and strong enough to do +useful work in the world. But they are fresh from prison, and +will be back in prison before long; they know us, for it is not +the first time we have made their acquaintance. + +They are by no means backward in speaking and telling us that +they want "just ten shillings to buy stock in Houndsditch which +they can sell in Cheapside." As we move away they beg +insistently for "just a few shillings; they don't want to get +back to prison." + +Now we come to a youth of eighteen; he seems afraid, and looks at +us with suspicious eyes; what is he doing here? We are +interested in him, so young, yet alone on the Embankment. We +open our bag and offer him food, which he accepts and eats; as we +watch him our pity increases: he is thinly clad, and the night +air is damp and cold; we select an old coat, which he puts on. +Then we question him, and he tells us that his mother is dead, +his father remarried; that his stepmother did not like him, and +in consequence his father turned him out; that he cannot get +work. And so on; a common story, no originality about it, and +not much truth! + +We suddenly put the question, "How long have you lived in +lodging-houses?" "About three years, sir." "What did you work +at?" "Selling papers in the streets." "Anything else?" "No, +sir." "You had not got any lodging money to-night.?" "No." +"Ever been in prison?" "Only twice." "What for?" "Gambling in +the streets," and we leave him, conscious that he is neither +industrious, honest nor truthful. + +We come at length to Waterloo Bridge, and here in the corners and +recesses of the steps we find still more of the submerged, and a +pitiful lot they are. + +We look closely at them, and we see that some are getting back to +primeval life, and that some are little more than human +vegetables. We know that their chief requirements are food, +sleep and open air; and that given these their lives are ideal, +to themselves! But we distribute our food amongst them, we part +with our last old coat, we give tickets for free shelters, but we +get no thanks, and we know well enough that the shelter tickets +will not be used, for it is much easier for philosophic +vagabondage to remain curled up where it is than to struggle on +to a shelter. + +So we leave them, and with a feeling of hopelessness hurry home +to our beds. + +But let us revisit the Embankment by day at 11 a.m. We take our +stand right close to Cleopatra's Needle; we see that numbers of +wretched people, male and female, are already there, and are +forming themselves into a queue three deep, the males taking the +Westminster side of the Needle, the females the City side. + +While this regiment of a very dolorous army is gathering +together, and forming silently and passively into the long queue, +we look at the ancient obelisk, and our mind is carried backward +to the days of old, when the old stone stood in the pride of its +early life, and with its clear-cut hieroglyphics spoke to the +wonderful people who comprised the great nation of antiquity. + +We almost appeal to it, and feel that we would like to question +it, as it stands pointing heavenwards beside our great river. +Surely the ancient stone has seen some strange sights, and heard +strange sounds in days gone by. + +Involuntarily we ask whether it has seen stranger sights, and +heard more doleful sounds than the sights to be seen under its +shadow to-day, and the sounds to be heard around it by night. +Could it speak, doubtless it would tell of the misery, suffering, +slavery endured by the poor in Egypt thousands of years ago. +Maybe it would tell us that the great empire of old had the same +difficulties to face and the same problems to solve that Great +Britain is called upon to face and to solve to-day. + +For the poor cried for bread in the days of the Pharaohs, and +they were crowded into unclean places, but even then great and +gorgeous palaces were built. + +"Can you tell us, Ancient Stone, has there been an onward march +of good since that day? Are we much better, wiser, happier and +stronger than the dusky generations that have passed away?" But +we get no response from the ancient stone, as grim and silent it +stands looking down upon us. So we turn to the assembled crowd. +See how it has grown whilst we have been speculating. Silently, +ceaselessly over the various bridges, or through the various +streets leading from the Strand they have come, and are still +coming. + +There is no firm footstep heard amongst them as they shufflingly +take their places. No eager expectation is seen on any face, but +quietly, indifferently, without crushing, elbowing, they join the +tail-end of the procession and stand silently waiting for the +signal that tells them to move. + +Let us walk up and down to count them, for it is nearly twelve +o'clock, and at twelve o'clock the slow march begins. So we +count them by threes, and find five hundred men to the right and +one hundred women to the left, all waiting, silently waiting! +Stalwart policemen are there to keep order, but their services +are not required. + +In the distance the whirl of London's traffic raises its mighty +voice; nearer still, the passing tramcars thunder along, and the +silence of the waiting crowd is made more apparent by these +contrasts. + +Big Ben booms the hour! it is twelve o'clock! and the slow +march begins; three by three they slowly approach the Needle, and +each one is promptly served with a small roll of bread and a cup +of soup; as each one receives the bread and soup he steps out of +the ranks, promptly and silently drinks his soup, and returns the +cup. Rank follows rank till every one is served, then silently +and mysteriously the crowd melts away and disappears. The police +go to other duties, the soup barrows are removed; the grim +ancient stone stands once more alone. + +But a few hours later, even as Big Ben is booming six, the +"Miserables" will be again waiting, silently waiting for the +rolls of bread and the cups of soup, and having received them +will again mysteriously disappear, to go through the same routine +at twelve o'clock on the morrow. Aye! and to return on every +morrow when soup and rolls are to be had. + +It looks very pitiful, this mass of misery. It seems very +comforting to know that they are fed twice a day with rolls and +soup, but after all the matter wants looking at very carefully, +and certain questions must be asked. + +Who are these miserables? How comes it that they are so ready to +receive as a matter of course the doles of food provided for +them? Are they really helped, and is their position really +improved by this kind of charity? I venture to say no! I go +farther, and I say very decidedly that so long as the bulk of +these people can get food twice a day, and secure some kind of +shelter at night, they will remain content to be as they are. I +will go still farther and say, that if this provision becomes +permanent the number of the miserables will increase, and the Old +Needle will continue to look down on an ever-growing volume of +poverty and wretchedness. + +For after receiving the soup and bread, these nomads disappear +into the streets and by-ways of London, there by hook or crook, +by begging or other means, to secure a few coppers, to pick up +scraps of food, and to return to the Embankment. + +I have walked up and down the Embankment, I have looked +searchingly at the people assembled. Some of them I have +recognised as old acquaintances; many of them, I know, have no +desire to be other than what they are. To eat, to sleep, to have +no responsibility, to be free to live an uncontrolled life, are +their ambitions; they have no other. Some of them are young men, +only twenty years of age, who have seen the inside of prison +again and again. Some of them are older, who have tramped the +country in the summer time and have been drawn to London by the +attraction of an easy feeding in the winter. Search their ranks! +and you will find very little genuine, unfortunate, self- +respecting poverty. They are what they are, and unless other +means are adopted they will, remain what they are! + +And so they will eat the bread and drink the soup; they will come +at twelve o'clock noon; they will come at six o'cIock in the +evening. They will sleep where they can, and to-morrow will be +as to-day; and the next day as to-morrow, unless some compulsion +is applied to them. + +All this is very sad, but I venture to say it is true, and it +seems to be one of the evils almost inseparable from our present +life. Probably in every clime and every age such women and men +have existed. The savage lives in all of us, and the simple life +has its attractions. To be free of responsibility is, no doubt, +a natural aspiration. But when I see how easy it is for this +class of people to obtain food, when I see how easy it is for +them to obtain shelter, when I see and know how thousands of the +poor are unceasingly at work in order to provide a modicum of +food and the semblance of a shelter, then it occurs to me, and I +am sure it will to any one who thinks seriously upon the matter, +that these men and women, who are harking back to the life of the +idle savage, are treated better in Christian England than the +industrious, self-respecting but unfortunate poor. But come with +me to see another sight! It is again afternoon, and we take our +stand at 3.30 p.m. outside a shelter for women which every night +receives, for fourpence each, some hundreds of submerged women. + +The doors will not be opened till six o'clock, so we are in time +to watch them as they arrive to take their places in the waiting +queue. A policeman is present to preserve order and keep the +pavement clear; but his service is not required, for the women +are very orderly, and allow plenty of room for passers-by. + +As the time for opening approaches, the number of waiting women +increases until there is a waiting silent crowd. No photograph +could give the slightest idea of their appearance, for dirt and +misery are not revealed by photography. + +Let us look at them, for the human eye sees most! What do we +see? Squalor, vice, misery, dementia, feeble minds and feeble +bodies. Old women on the verge of the grave eating scraps of +food gathered from the City dustbins. Dirty and repulsive food, +dirty and repulsive women! who have begged during the day enough +coppers to pay for their lodging by night. Girls of twenty, +whose conduct in their homes has been outrageous, and whose life +in London must be left to imagination. Middle-aged women, +outcasts, whose day has past, but who have still capabilities for +begging and stealing. The whole company presents an altogether +terrible picture, and we are conscious that few of the women have +either the ability or the desire to render decent service to the +community, or to live womanly lives. + +At length the door opens, and we watch them pass silently in, to +sleep during the night in the boxes arranged on the floors, their +bodies unwashed, and their clothing unchanged. Happy are such +women when some trumpery theft lands them in prison, for there at +any rate a change of clothing is provided, and a bath is +compulsory. + +If we stand outside a men's shelter, we see a similar state of +things, a waiting crowd. A passive, content, strange mixed lot +of humans. Some of them who have been well educated, but are now +reaping the harvest that follows the sowing of wild oats. The +submerged males are, on the whole, less repulsive than the women; +dirt is less in evidence, and they exhibit a better standard of +health. But many of them are harking back to nature, and remind +us of the pictures we have seen of primeval man. + +I want to say a few words about the submerged that congregate on +the Thames Embankment, and the humanity we have seen enter the +cheap shelters. + +My experience has shown me that they constitute the lowest grade +and the least hopeful class of the submerged. Amongst them there +are very few decent and helpable men and women who are capable of +rising to a higher life. Say what we will, be as pitiful as we +may, those of us who have much experience of life know perfectly +well that there exists a large class of persons who are utterly +incapable of fulfilling the duties of decent citizenship. It may +be that they are wicked, and it is certain that they are weak, +but whether wicked or weak, they have descended by the law of +moral gravitation and have found their level in the lowest depths +of civilised life. + +And they come from unexpected quarters, for some who have known +comfort and refinement are now quite content with their present +conditions. Whether born of refined parents, or of rude and +ignorant parents, whether coming from a tramping stock, or from +settled home life, they have one thing in common. It is this-- +the life they live has a powerful attraction for them; they could +not if they would, and would not if they could, live lives that +demand decency, discipline and industry. Nothing but compulsion +will ever induce them to submit themselves to disciplined life. +But let it be clearly understood that I am now speaking only of +the lowest class of the submerged. While my experience has +taught me that they, humanly speaking, are a hopeless lot, I have +learned that they have their qualities. They can endure if they +cannot work; they can suffer if they cannot strive. After all I +am persuaded that they get a fair amount of happiness. Simple +pleasures are the greatest, perhaps the only real pleasures. We +all like to be free of responsibilities. There is no rent-day +coming round with dread certainty and irritating monotony to the +nomads. No rate collector irritates them with his imperious +"demand note." No school-board officer rouses them to a sense of +duty by his everlasting efforts to force their children to +school. No butcher, no baker, no milkman duns them for payment +of bills long overdue! They escape the danger of furniture on +the "hire system." For them no automatic gas meter grudgingly +doles out its niggardly pennyworths of gas. They are not +implored to burden themselves with the ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA. + +They are free from the seductions of standard bread; paper-bag +cookery causes them no anxious thought. Even "sweet peas" do +not enter into their simple calculations. Finally no life +assurance agent marks them for his prey, and no income-tax +tempts them to lie! From all these things they are free, and I +would like to know who would not wish to be free of them and a +thousand other worries I would escape them if I could, but alas I +cannot. + +Decidedly there is much to be said for the life of a nomad, but +whether or not I should place him among the inhabitants of the +underworld I am not sure; for he toils not, neither does he spin, +and his bitterest enemies cannot accuse him of taking thought for +the morrow. I had almost forgotten one great advantage he +possesses: he need not wash; and when this distasteful operation +becomes, for sanitary reasons, absoluteIy necessary, why then he +can take a month in one of our great sanatoria, either prison or +workhouse will do, and be thoroughly cleansed! + +The idea of such free and easy folk being saved by a shelter and +wood-chopping is very funny. + +But we are all tramps, more or less; it is only a question of +degree! Who would not like to tramp with George Borrow through +Spain or Wales I would like the chance! Who does not feel and +hear the "call of the wild"? Most certainly all Britons thrill +with it. Who does not like to feel the "wind on the heath" beat +on his face and fill his nostrils! Who does not love the +sweetness of country lanes, or the solitude of mountains, or the +whispering mystery of the wood, or the terrors of the sea, or the +silence of midnight? + +All these things are ingrained in us, part and parcel of our very +selves; we cannot get away from them if we would, and woe betide +us if we did! For this is a grand quality in itself, one that +has made our nation and our empire. But couple it with idleness, +inertia, feebleness, weak minds, and weaker bodies; why, then you +get the complete article, the vegetable human! the guinea-pig +man; if you will, the "submerged," or at any rate a portion of +them. + +Originally I have no doubt the human family were nomads, and many +of our good old instincts still survive, but civilisation has +killed others. In every cross-bred species of animals or plants +there are "reverts" or "throwbacks," and the human family +produces plenty of them. Every civilised country has its +"throwbacks," and the more monotonous civilisation becomes, the +more cast-iron its rules, and the more scientific and educated +its people, the more onerous and difficult become the +responsibilities and duties of citizenship; and the greater the +likelihood of in increased number of reverts to undisciplined and +wild life. In this direction the sea and our colonies are the +safeguard of England. But to-day we pay in meal or malt for our +civilisation, for many brave lads, with thews and muscles, are +chafing, fretting and wearing out their hearts in dull London +offices or stores, where they feel choked, hampered, cabined and +confined, for civilisation chains them to their desks. + +But I am wandering too! I will hark back. Another cause, and a +fruitful cause, of nomadic life is to be found in the ever- +increasing number of young incapables that our present-day life +produces. Characterless, backboneless, negative kind of fellows +with neither wisdom nor stature abound. Up to eighteen years +they pass muster, but after that age they are useless; in reality +they need caring for all their lives. They possess no +initiative, no self-reliance, and little capability for honest +work, unless it be simple work done under close supervision. Our +industrial life is too strenuous for these young men; they are +laggards in life's race, they quickly fall behind, and ultimately +become disqualified altogether. + +Many of their parents refuse them shelter, the streets become +their home; absolute idleness supervenes; their day is past. +Henceforward they are lodging-house habitues, or wanderers on the +face of the earth. + +More pitiable still is the case of those that may be classed as +feeble-minded, and who are just responsible enough to be quite +irresponsible. Idiots and imbeciles have largely disappeared +from country villages and small towns. They are well taken care +of, for our large asylums are full of them; they have good +quarters, good food, every attention, so they live long in the +land. + +But the case is very different with the half imbeciles or the +half mad. Short terms of imprisonment with short periods of +hopeless, useless liberty and an occasional spell in the +workhouse constitute the circle of their lives; and a vicious +circle it is. Can any life be more pitiable? Sane enough to +know that they are not quite sane, insane enough to have no wish +to control their animal or vicious instincts. Possessing no +education, strength or skill, of no possible use in industrial +life, with no taste for decency or social life; sleeping by day +in our parks,and by night upon the Embankment. But they mate; +and as like meets with like the result may be imagined! Here +again we are paying for our neglect of many serious matters. Bad +housing, overcrowding, incessant work by the mothers whilst +bearing children, drinking habits among the parents, insufficient +food for the children, endless anxieties and worries. All these +things and more amongst that portion of the nation which produces +the largest families; what wonder that many incapable bodies and +minds result! + +But if civilisation allows all this, civilisation must pay the +penalty, which is not a light one, and continue to have the +miserables upon the Embankment. + +Have we no pity! no thought for the next generation, no concern +for ourselves! No! I do not recommend a lethal chamber, but I +do strongly advise permanent detention and segregation for these +low types of unfortunate humanity. Nothing less will avail, and +expensive though it might be for a time, it would pay in the near +future, and would be at once an act of mercy and justice. + +Yes, on the Thames Embankment extremes meet, the ages are bridged +over, for the products of our up-to-date civilisation stand side +by side with the products of primeval habits and nomadic life. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +LODGING-HOUSES + +The inmates of the underworld lodging-houses are a queer and +heterogeneous lot; but they are much to be preferred to the +sleepers out; because rascally though many of them are, there is +a good deal of self-reliance and not a little enterprise amongst +them. By hook and crook, and, it is to be feared, mostly by +crook, they obtain sufficient money for food and lodging, and to +this extent they are an improvement upon the sleepers out. They +have, too, some pluck, perseverance and talents that, rightly +applied, might be of considerable benefit to the community. But +having got habituated to the liberty of common lodging-houses, +and to the excitement of getting day by day just enough for each +day's need, though sometimes fasting and sometimes feasting, the +desire for settled home life and for the duties of citizenship +has vanished. For with the money to pay night by night for their +lodgings, responsibility to rent and tax collector ends. + +I must allow some exceptions, for once every year there comes +upon thousands of them the burden of finding five shillings to +pay for the hawker's licence that provides them with the +semblance of a living, or an excuse for begging. After much +experience of this class, including many visits to common +lodging-houses, and some friendships with the inmates, I am sure +that the desire to be untrammelled with social and municipal +obligation leads a great percentage of the occupants to prefer +the life to any other. They represent to some extent in this +modern and industrial age the descendants of Jonadab, the son of +Rechab, with this exception, they are by no means averse to the +wine-cup. It is to be feared that there is a growth in this +portion of our community, for every scheme for providing decent +lodgings for casually homeless men is eagerly taken advantage of +by men who might and who ought to live in homes of their own, and +so fulfil the duties of decent citizenship. In this respect even +Lord Rowton's estimable lodging-houses, and those, too, of our +municipal authorities prove no exception, for they attract +numbers of men who ought not to be there, but who might, with +just a little more self-reliance and self-respect, live +comfortably outside. + +But I pass on to the common lodging-houses that accommodate a +lower class than is found in municipal or Rowton houses. +Probably none, or at any rate very few, of my readers have had a +practical experience of common lodging-houses. I have, so +therefore I ask them to accompany me to one of them. + +In a dingy slum stand a number of grimy houses that have been +converted into one big house. The various doorways have been +blocked and one enlarged entrance serves. + +As we enter, the money-taker in his office demands our business. +We tell him that we are anxious to have a look round, and he +tells us that he will send for the deputy. The deputy is the +autocrat that governs with undisputable sway in this domain of +semi-darkness and dirt. We stand aside in the half-lit passage, +taking good care that we have no contact with the walls; the air +we breathe is thick with unpleasant odours, and we realise at +once, and to our complete satisfaction, the smell and flavour of +a common lodging-house. We know instinctively that we have made +its acquaintance before, it seems familiar to us, but we are +puzzled about it until we remember we have had a foretaste of it +given to us by some lodging-house habitues that we met. The +aroma of a common lodging-house cannot be concealed, it is not to +be mistaken. The hour is six o'clock p.m., the days are short, +for it is November. The lodgers are arriving, so we stand and +watch them as they pass the little office and pay their +sixpences. Down goes the money, promptly a numbered ticket takes +its place; few words are exchanged, and away go the ticket- +holders to the general kitchen. + +Presently the deputy comes to interview us, and he does not put +us at our ease; he is a forbidding fellow, one that evidently +will stand no nonsense. Observe, if you please, that he has lost +his right hand, and that a formidable iron hook replaces it. +Many a time has that hook been serviceable; if it could speak, +many tales would it tell of victories won, of rows quelled, and +of blood spilled. + +We have seen the fellow previously, and more than once, at the +local police-court. Sometimes he came as prosecutor, sometimes +as prisoner, and at other times as witness. When the police had +been required to supplement the power of his iron hand in +quelling the many free fights, he appeared sometimes in the dual +capacity of prisoner and prosecutor. + +We know that he retains his position because of his strength and +the unscrupulous way in which he uses it. He knows us too, but +he is not well pleased to see us! Nevertheless, he accedes to +our request for "just a look round." So through a large passage +we pass, and he ushers us into the lodging-house kitchen. As the +door opens a babel of many voices greets us, a rush of warm air +comes at us, and the evidence of our noses proclaims that +bloaters and bacon, liver and onions, sausages and fresh fish are +being cooked. We look and see, we see and taste! Strange eyes +are turned upon us just for a moment, but we are not "'tecs," so +the eyes are turned back to the different frying-pans or +roasting-forks, as the case may be. See how they crowd round the +huge and open fire, for there is no cooking range. See how they +elbow each other as they want space for this pan or that fork. +See how the bloaters curl and twist as if trying to escape from +the forks and the fire. See how the sausages burst and splutter +in their different pans. See how stolidly the tough steaks +brown, refusing either to splutter, yield fat, or find gravy to +assist in their own undoing. + +Listen to the sizzling that pervades the place, acting as an +orchestral accompaniment to the chorus of human voices. Listen +to it all, breathe it all, let your noses and your ears take it +all in. Then let your eyes and your imagination have their turn +before the pungency of rank tobacco adds to the difficulty of +seeing and breathing. And so we look, and we find there are +sixty human beings of both sexes and various ages in that +kitchen. Some of them we know, for have we not seen them in +Cheapside, St. Paul's Churchyard, or elsewhere acting as gutter +merchants. Yonder sit an old couple that we have seen selling +matches or laces for many years past! It is not a race day, and +there being no "test match" or exciting football match, a youth +of sixteen who earns a precarious living by selling papers in the +streets sits beside them. To-day papers are at a discount, so he +has given up business for the day and sought warmth and company +in his favourite lodging-house. + +Ah! there is our old friend, the street ventriloquist! You see +the back of his hand is painted in vivid colours to resemble the +face of an old woman. We know that he has a bundle that contains +caps and bonnets, dresses and skirts that will convert his hand +and arm into a quaint human figure. Many a droll story can he +tell, for he has "padded the hoof" from one end of England to the +other; he knows every lodging-house from Newcastle-on-Tyne to +Plymouth. He is a graceless dog, fond of a joke, a laugh and a +story; he is honest enough and intelligent enough for anything. +But of regular life, discipline and work he will have none. By +and by, after the cooking is all done, he will want to give a +performance and take up a collection. + +There are a couple, male and female, who tramp the country lanes; +the farm haystacks or outbuildings have been their resting-places +during the summer, but approaching winter has sent them back to +London. + +You see that they have got a tattered copy of Moody and Sankey's +hymns, which is their stock-in-trade. They have at different +lodging-house "services" picked up some slight knowledge of a +limited number of tunes, now they are trying to commit the words +to memory. + +To-morrow they will in quiet streets be whining out "Oh, where is +my boy to-night?" or "Will you meet me at the Fountain?" + +Look again--here is a shabby-genteel man who lives by his wits. +He is fairly educated and can write a plausible letter. He is +dangerous; his stock-in-trade comprises local directories, WHO'S +WHO, annual reports of charitable societies, clergymen's lists, +etc. He is a begging-letter writer, and moves from lodging-house +to lodging-house; he writes letters for any of the inmates who +have some particular tale of woe to unfold, or some urgent appeal +to make, and he receives the major part of the resultant charity. + +He is drunken and bestial, he is a parasite of the worst +description, for he preys alike on the benevolent and upon the +poor wretches whose cause he espouses. + +He assumes many names, he changes his addresses adroitly, and +ticks off very carefully the names and addresses of people he has +defrauded. In fact, he is so clever and slippery that the police +and the Charity Organisation Society cannot locate him. So he +thrives, a type of many, for every one of London's common +lodging-houses can provide us with one or more such cunning +rogues. + +Yonder sits a "wandering boy" about twenty-eight years of age. +He is not thriving, and he must needs be content with simple +bread and cheese. A roll of cheap "pirated" music lies on his +knee and proclaims his method of living. His life has its +dangers, for he has great difficulty in providing five shillings +for his pedlar's licence, and he runs great risk of having his +stock seized by the police, and being committed to prison for a +fine he cannot pay. + +He has brought sorrow and disgrace upon his parents, no eye +brightens at the mention of his name. Alas! he is a specimen of +the "homeless boy" of whom his neighbours the minstrels will sing +to-morrow. He is silent and moody, for he is not in funds. Are +there none among the company whom sheer misfortune has brought +down into this underworld? we ask. Aye, there are, for in this +kitchen there are representatives of all sorts and conditions. +See that man in the corner by himself, speaking to no one, +cooking nothing, eating nothing; he is thinking, thinking! This +is his first night in a common lodging-house; it is all new to +him, he thinks it all so terrible and disgusting. + +He seems inclined to run and spend his night in the streets, and +perhaps it will be well for him to do so. He looks decent, +bewildered and sorrowful; we know at a glance that some +misfortune has tripped him up, we see that self-respect is not +dead within him. We know that if he stays the night, breathing +the foul air, listening to the horrid talk, seeing much and +realising more, feeling himself attacked on every side by the +ordinary pests of common lodging-houses, we know that tomorrow +morning his self-respect will be lessened, his moral power +weakened, and his hope of social recovery almost gone. Let him +stay a few weeks, then the lodging-house will become his home and +his joy. So we feel inclined to cry out and warn him to escape +with his life. This is the great evil and danger of common +lodging-houses; needful as they undoubtedly are for the homeless +and the outcast, they place the unfortunate on an inclined plane +down which they slide to complete demoralisation. + +I am told that there are four hundred large common lodging-houses +in London, many of them capable of holding several hundred +lodgers, and which night after night are filled with a weird +collection of humanity. And they cast a fatal spell upon all who +get accustomed to them. Few, very few who have become +acclimatised ever go back to settled home life. For the +decencies, amenities and restraints of citizenship become +distasteful. And truly there is much excitement in the life for +excitement, at any rate, abounds in common lodging-houses. + +Nothing happens in them but the unexpected, and that brings its +joys and terrors, its laughter and its tears. Here a great deal +of unrestrained human nature is given free play, and the results +are exciting if not edifying. Let us spend an evening, but not a +night--that is too much to ask-with the habitues. + +We sit apart and listen to the babel of voices, but we listen in +vain for the lodging-house slang of which we are told so much. +They speak very much like other people, and speak on subjects +upon which other people speak. They get as excited as ordinary +people, too. + +Yonder is a lewd fellow shouting obscenities to a female, who, in +an equally loud voice and quite as unmistakable language, returns +him a Roland for every Oliver. + +Here are a couple of wordy excitable fellows who are arguing the +pros and cons of Free Trade and Tariff Reform. They will keep at +it till the lights are put out, for both are supplied with a +plentiful supply of contradictory literature. Both have fluent +tongues, equally bitter, and, having their audience, they, like +other people, must contend for mastery. Not that they care for +the rights or wrongs of either question, for both are prepared, +as occasion serves, to take either side. Religion, too, is +excitedly discussed, for an animated couple are discussing +Christian Evidences, while the ventriloquist gives parsons +generally and bishops in particular a very warm time; even the +Pope and General Booth do not escape his scurrilous but witty +indictments. + +Meanwhile the street singers are practising songs, sacred and +secular, and our friend the street minstrel produces an old flute +and plays an obbligato, whilst the quivering voice of his poor +old wife again wants to know the whereabouts of her wandering +boy. + +There will be a touching scene when they do meet--may I be there! +but I hope they will not meet in a common lodging-house. Another +street minstrel is practising new tunes upon a mouth-organ, +wherewith to soften the hearts of a too obdurate public. + +What a babel it all makes; now groups of card-players are getting +quarrelsome, for luck has been against some, or cheating has been +discovered; blows are exchanged, and blood flows! As the night +advances, men and women under the influence of drink arrive. +Some are merry, others are quarrelsome, some are moody and +lachrymose. The latter become the butt of the former, the noise +increases, confusion itself becomes confounded, and we leave to +avoid the general MELEE, and to breathe the night air, which we +find grateful and reviving. Phew! but it was hot and thick, we +don't want to breathe it again. It is astonishing that people +get used to it, and like it too! But it leaves its taint upon +them, for it permeates their clothing; they carry it about with +them, and any one who gets a whiff of it gets some idea of the +breath of a common lodging-house. And its moral breath has its +effect, too! Woe to all that is fresh and fair, young and +hopeful, that comes within its withering influence. Farewell! a +long farewell to honour, truth and self-respect, for the hot +breath of a common lodging-house will blast those and every other +good quality in young people of either sex that inhale it. Its +breath comes upon them, and lo! they become foul without and +vile within, carrying their moral and physical contagion with +them wherever they go. + +A moral sepulchre, or rather crematorium, is the common lodging- +house, for when its work is done, nothing is left but ashes. For +the old habitues I am not much concerned, and though generally I +hold a brief for old sinners, criminals and convicts, I hold no +brief for the old and middle-aged habitues of a common lodging- +house. + +Can any one call the dead to life? Can any one convert cold +flesh into warm pulsing life? Nay, nay! Talk about being turned +into a pillar of salt! the common lodging-house can do more and +worse than that! It can turn men and women into pillars of moral +death, for even the influence of a long term of penal servitude, +withering as it is, cannot for one moment be compared with the +corrupting effect of common lodging-house life. + +So the old minstrels may go seeking their wandering boy! and the +begging-letter writers may go hang! + +The human vultures that prey upon the simple and good-natured +may, if middle-aged, continue in their evil ways. But what of +the young people of whom there ought to be hope? What of them? +how long are these "lazar houses" to stand with open door waiting +to receive, swallow, transform and eject young humanity? But +there is money in them, of course there is; there always is money +to be made out of sin and misery if the community permits. + +Human wreckage pays, and furnishes a bigger profit than more +humdrum investments. I am told by an old habitue with whom I +have had endless talks and who has taught me much, although he is +a graceless rascal, that one man owns eight of these large +establishments, and that he and his family live in respectability +and wealth. + +I have no reason to doubt his statement, for these places are +mines of wealth, but the owners take precious good care not to +live in them. And infinite care that their families do not +inhabit them. Some day when we are wise--but wisdom comes so +slowly--these things will not be left to private enterprise, for +municipalities will provide and own them at no loss to the +ratepayers either. + +Then decency, though homeless, will have a chance of survival, +and moral and physical cleanliness some chance to live, even in a +common lodging-house. + +Sadly we need a modern St.George who will face and destroy this +monstrous dragon with the fiery breath. + +Let it not be said that I am unduly hard upon them who from +choice or misfortune inhabit these places. From my heart I pity +them, but one cannot be blind to the general consequences. And +these things must be taken into consideration when efforts are +made, as undoubtedly efforts will some day be made, to tackle +this question in a reasonable way. + +It is high time, too, that the public understood the difficulties +that attend any effort to lift lodging-house habitues to a higher +form of existence. + +I am bold enough to hazard the statement that the number of these +people increases year by year, and that no redemptive effort has +had the slightest effect in checking the continual increase. As +Secretary of the Howard Association, it is my business year by +year to make myself acquainted with the criminal statistics, and +all matters connected with our prisons. These statistics more +than confirm my statement, for they tell us that while +drunkenness, brutality, crimes of violence show a steady +decrease, vagabondage, sleeping out, begging, etc., show a +continual increase as years roll by. + +Of course many of them appear again and again in the prison +statistics, nevertheless they form a great and terrible army, +whose increase bodes ill for dear and fair old England. + +Like birds they are migratory, but they pour no sweetness on the +morning or evening air. Like locusts they leave a blight behind. + +Like famished wolves when winter draws near they seek the +habitations of men. Food they must have! There is corn in +Egypt! + +When gentle spring returns, then heigho! for the country lanes, +villages and provincial towns, and as they move from place to +place they leave their trail behind them. + +And what a trail it is! ask the governors of our local prisons, +ask the guardians of any country districts, ask the farmers, aye, +and ask the timid women and pretty children, and, my word for it, +they will be able to tell you much of these strange beings that +returning summer brings unfailingly before them. Their lodging +is sometimes the cold hard ground, or the haystack, or perchance, +if in luck, an outbuilding. + +The prisons are their sanatoria, the workhouses their homes of +rest, and the casual ward their temporary conveniences. But +always before them is one objective, for a common lodging-house +is open to them, and its hypnotism draws them on and on. + +So on they go, procreating as they go. Carrying desolation with +them, leaving desolation behind them. The endurance of these +people--I suppose they must be called people--is marvellous and +their rate of progression is sometimes astonishing; weary and +footsore, maimed, halt or blind they get over the ground at a +good uniform pace. + +Look at that strange being that has just passed us as we sat on +the bank of a country lane; he goes along with slouching gait and +halting steps; he has no boots worthy of the name, his tattered +trousers, much too long, give us glimpses of his flesh. He wears +an old frock-coat that hangs almost to his heels, and a cloth +cap, greasy and worn, upon his head. His beard is wild and +abundant, and his hair falls upon his shoulders in a way worthy +of an artist or poet. + +Follow him, but not too closely, and you will find it hard to +keep up with him, he knows what he is making for. Neither George +Borrow nor Runciman would hold him for a week, for George would +want to stop and talk, but this fellow is silent and grim. A +lazar house draws him on, and he needs must reach it, weak and +ill-fed though he is! And he will reach others too, for he is on +a circular tour. But next winter will find him in a Westminster +lodging-house if he has luck, on the Embankment if he has not. + +He has an easy philosophy: "All the things in the world belong +to all the men in the world," is his outspoken creed, so he +steals when he can, and begs when he cannot steal. + +But think of this life when women share it, and children are born +into it, and lads and lassies are on the tramp. Dare we think of +it? We dare not! If we did, it would not be tolerated for a +day. Neither dare I write about it, for there are many things +that cannot be written. So I leave imagination to supply what +words must not convey. + +But it is all so pitiful, it is too much for me, for sometimes I +feel that I am living with them, tramping with them, sleeping +with them, eating with them; I am become as one of them. I feel +the horror, yet I do not realise the charms. + +I am an Englishman! I love liberty! I must be free, or die! I +want to order my own life, to control my own actions, to run on +my own lines; I would that all men should have similar rights. +But, alas! it cannot be--civilisation claims and enchains us; we +have to submit to its discipline, and it is well that it should +be so. We do not, cannot live to ourselves, and for ourselves. +Those days have long passed, and for ever. Orderly life and +regular duties are good for us, and necessary for the well-being +of the nation. + +A strong robust: nation demands and requires a large amount of +freedom, and this it must have, or perish! The individual man, +too, requires a fair amount if he is to be a man. But we may, +and we do in some things extend freedom beyond the legitimate +bounds. For in a country of limited area where the bulk of the +people live onerous lives, and manfully perform their duties, we +allow a host of parasites to thrive and swarm. + +The more this host increases, the weaker the nation becomes, and +its existence may ultimately become not a sign of freedom but a +proof of national decay. For parasites thrive on weakly life, be +it individual or national. So while we have a profound pity for +the nomads, let us express it with a strong hand. They cannot +care for themselves in any decent way. Let us care for them, and +detain them in places that will allow permanent detention and +segregation. And the results will be surprising, for prisons +will be less numerous, workhouses, casual wards and asylums less +necessary, lazar houses with their pestilential breath will pass +away, and England will be happier, sweeter and more free! + + + +CHAPTER V + +FURNISHED APARTMENTS + +What fell power decreed that certain streets in London should be +devoted to the purpose of providing "furnished apartments" for +the submerged I do not know. But I do know that some streets are +entirely devoted to this purpose, and that a considerable amount +of money is made out of such houses. + +I ask my readers to accompany me for a visit to one of these +streets, and make some acquaintance with the houses, the +furniture and the inhabitants. + +The particular streets we select run at a right-angle from a main +thoroughfare, a railway divides them from a beautiful park, and +on this railway City merchants pass daily to and from their +suburban homes. + +I question whether in the whole of London more misery, vice and +poverty can be found located in one limited area than in the +streets we are about to visit. I know them, and I have every +reason for knowing them. We make our visit in summer time, when +poverty is supposed to be less acute. As we enter the street we +notice at once that a commodious public-house stands and thrives +at the entrance. We also notice that there are in the street +several "general" shops, where tea and margarine, firewood, +pickles, paraffin oil and cheese, boiled ham and vinegar, corned +beef and Spanish onions, bread and matches are to be obtained. + +We stand in the middle of the roadway, in the midst of dirt and +refuse, and look up and down the street. Innumerable children +are playing in the gutter or on the pavements, and the whole +place teems with life. We observe that the houses are all alike, +the shops excepted. They stand three-storey high; there are nine +rooms in each house. We look in vain for bright windows and for +clean and decent curtains. + +Every room seems occupied, for there is no card in any window +announcing "furnished apartments." The street is too well known +to require advertisement, consequently the "furnished apartments" +are seldom without tenants. + +The street is a cave of Adullam to which submerged married +couples resort when their own homes, happy or otherwise, are +broken up. + +We notice that it is many days since the doors and window-frames +of the different houses made acquaintance with the painter. We +notice that all doors stand open, for it is nobody's business to +answer a knock, friendly or otherwise. We look in the various +doorways and see in each case the same sort of staircase and the +same unclean desolation. + +Who would believe that Adullam Street is a veritable Tom +Tiddler's Ground? Would any one believe that a colony of the +submerged could prove a source of wealth? + +Let us count the houses on both sides of the street. Forty-five +houses! Leave out the two "general" shops, the greengrocer's and +the "off licence"; leave out also the one where the agent and +collector lives, that leaves us forty-one houses of nine rooms +let out as furnished apartments. + +If let to married couples that means a population of seven +hundred and thirty-eight, if all the rooms are occupied, and +supposing that no couple occupies more than one room. As for the +children--but we dare not think of them--we realise the advantage +of the open street of which we freely grant them the freehold. +But we make the acquaintance of a tenant and ask some questions. +We find that she has two children, that they have but one +furnished room, for which they pay seven shillings and sixpence +weekly in advance! Always in advance! + +She further tells us that their room is one of the best and +largest; it faces the street, and is on the first floor. She +says that some rooms are let at six shillings, others at six +shillings and sixpence, and some at seven shillings. We ask her +why she lives in Adullam Street, and she tells us that her own +furniture was obtained on the "hire system," and when it was +seized they came to Adullam Street, and they do not know how they +are to get out of it. + +That sets us thinking and calculating; three hundred and sixty- +nine rooms, rent always payable in advance-- from the submerged, +too!--average six shillings and sixpence per week per room, why, +that is L120 per week, or L6,240 annually from forty-one houses, +if they are regularly occupied. Truly furnished apartments +specially provided for the submerged are extra specially adapted +to the purpose of keeping them submerged. + +As no deputy disputes our entrance, we enter and proceed to gain +some knowledge of the tenants, and take some stock of their rooms +and furniture. + +The rooms are simply but by no means sweetly furnished! Here is +an inventory and a mental picture of one room. A commodious bed +with dirty appointments that makes us shudder! A dirty table on +which are some odds and ends of unclean crockery, a couple of +cheap Windsor chairs, a forbidding-looking chest of drawers, a +rusty frying-pan, a tin kettle, a teapot and a common quart jug. +He would be a bold man that bid ten shillings for the lot, unless +he bought them as a going concern. A cheap and nasty paper +covers the wall, excepting where pieces have been torn away, and +the broken walls are made of lath and plaster, to provide +splendid cover for innumerable insects which remain in undisputed +possession. + +One floor much resembles another, but the basement and the top +storey rooms are the worst of all. We look through the window of +a second floor back room, and see the out premises, but one look +is sufficient. + +We want to know something of the tenants, so we enter into +conversation with them, and find them by no means reserved. + +Room 1. Husband and wife about thirty-five years of age, no +children; husband has been ill for some months, during which the +rent got behind. When he was taken to the infirmary they lost +their home altogether; she did washing and charing for a time, +but ultimately got into the "House." + +When her husband got better, and was discharged from the +infirmary, his old mates collected ten shillings for him, he took +the room in which they now lived, and of course she joined him. + +How did they live? Well, it was hardly living; her husband +looked round every day and managed to "pick up something," and +she got a day or two days' work every week--their rent was always +paid in advance. What happened when her husband did not "pick up +something" she did not say, but semi-starvation seemed the only +alternative. + +No. 2. Husband, wife and a girl of seven engaged in making +coarse paper flowers of lurid hue. They had been in that room +for six months; they sold the paper flowers in the streets, but +being summer time they did not sell many. At Christmas time +people bought them for decorations; sometimes people gave the +girl coppers, but did not take the flowers from her. The police +watched them very closely, as they required a licence for +selling, and if they took the girl out in the wet or dark the +police charged them. + +It was very difficult to live at all, owing to police +interference. The girl did not go to school, but they had been +warned that she must go; they did not know what they should do +when she could not help them. + +Room 3. A strong man about thirty, his wife and two young +children. The remains of a meal upon the table, a jug of beer +and a smell of tobacco. The man looks at us, and a flash of +recognition is exchanged. He had been released from prison at +8.30 that morning after serving a sentence of nine months for +shop robbery. + +We asked how much gratuity he had earned. Eight shillings, he +told us. His wife and children had met him at the prison gate; +they had come straight to that room, for which the wife had +previously arranged; they had paid a week in advance. "What was +he going to do?" "He did not know!" He did not appear to care, +but he supposed he "must look round, he would get the rent +somehow." We felt that he spoke the truth, and that he would +"get the rent somehow" till the police again prevented him. + +We know that prison will again welcome him, and that the +workhouse gates will open to receive his wife and children, the +number of which will increase during his next detention in +prison. + +Room 4. Two females under thirty. No signs of occupation; they +are not communicative, neither are they rude, so we learn nothing +from them except that they were not Londoners. + +Room 5. A family group, father, mother and four children; they +had come to Adullam Street because they had been ejected from +their own home. Their goods and chattels had been put on the +street pavement, whence the parish had removed them to the dust +destructor, probably the best thing to do with them. + +The family were all unhealthy and unclean. The parents did not +seem to have either strength, grit or intelligence to fit them +for any useful life. But they could creep forth and beg, the +woman could stand in the gutter with a little bit of mortality +wrapped in her old shawl, for tender-hearted passers-by to see +its wizened face, and the father could stand not far away from +her with a few bootlaces or matches exposed, as if for sale. +They managed to live somehow. + +Room 6. An elderly couple who had possessed no home of their own +for years past, but who know London well, for the furnished +lodgings of the east, west, north and south are familiar to them. + +He sells groundsel, she sells water-cress, at least they tell us +so, and point to baskets as evidence. But we know that groundsel +business of old. We have seen him standing in a busy +thoroughfare with his pennyworth of groundsel, and we know that +though he receives many pennies his stock remains intact, and we +know also that pennyworths of water-cress in the dirty hands of +an old woman serve only the same purpose. + +Room 7. Here we find a younger but not more hopeful couple; she +is fairly well dressed, and he is rather flashy. They have both +food and drink. We know that when the shades of night fall she +will be perambulating the streets, and he like a beast of prey +will be watching not far away. So we might go through the whole +of the colony. There is a strange assortment of humanity in +Adullam Street. Vice and misery, suffering and poverty, idleness +and dishonesty, feeble-mindedness and idiocy are all blended, but +no set-off in virtue and industry is to be found. + +The strong rogue lives next to the weak and the unfortunate, the +hardened old sinner next door to some who are beginning to +qualify for a like old age. The place is coated with dirt and +permeated with sickening odours. And to Adullam Street come +young couples who have decided to unite their lives and fortunes +without any marriage ceremony; for in Adullam Street such unions +abound. + +Young fellows of nineteen earning as much as twelve shillings a +week couple with girls of less age earning ten shillings weekly. +It looks so easy to live on twenty-two shillings a week and no +furniture to buy, and no parson to pay. + +So a cheap ring is slipped on, and hand in hand the doomed couple +go to Adullam Street, which receives them with open arms, and +hugs them so long as six shillings and sixpence weekly is +forthcoming in advance. Their progress is very rapid; when the +first child arrives, the woman's earnings cease, and Adullam +Street knows them no more. + +Ticket-of-leave men, ex-convicts, heroes of many convictions, +come to Adullam Street and bring their female counterparts with +them. They flourish for a time, and then the sudden but not +unexpected disappearance of the male leads to the disappearance +of the female. She returns to her former life; Adullam Street is +but an incident in her life. + +So there is a continual procession through Adullam Street; very +little good enters it, and it is certain that less good passes +out. + +Where do its temporary inhabitants go? To prisons, to +workhouses, to hospitals, to common lodging-houses, to shelters, +to the Embankment and to death. + +Although those who seek sanctuary in Adullam Street are already +inhabitants of the underworld, a brief sojourn in it dooms them +to lower depths. I suppose there must be places of temporary +residence for the sort of people that inhabit it, for they must +have shelter somewhere. But I commend this kind of property to +the searching eyes of the local authorities and the police. + +But furnished apartments can tell another tale when they are not +situated in Adullam Street. For sometimes a struggling widow, or +wife with a sick husband, or a young married couple seek to let +furnished apartments as a legitimate means of income. When they +do so, let them beware of the underworld folk who happen to be +better clothed and more specious than their fellows, or they will +bitterly rue it. + +Very little payment will they get. Couples apparently married +and apparently respectable, but who are neither, are common +enough, who are continually on the look-out for fresh places of +abode, where they may continue their depredation. + +They are ready enough with a deposit, but that is all the money +they mean to part with, and that has probably been raised by +robbing their last landlady. They can give references if +required, and show receipts, too, from their last lodgings, for +they carry rent-books made out by themselves and fully paid up +for the purpose. They are adepts at obtaining entrance, and, +once in, they remain till they have secured another place and +marked another prey. + +Meanwhile their poor victims suffer in kind and money, and are +brought nearer destitution. I have frequently known a week's +rent paid with the part proceeds of articles stolen from either +the furnished apartments, or some other part of the house just +entered. + +I could tell some sad stories of suffering and distress brought +to struggling and decent people by these pests, of whom a great +number are known to the police. + +And so the merry game goes on, for while vampires are sucking the +impure blood of the wretched dwellers in Adullam Street lodgings, +the dwellers in Adullam Street in their turn prey on the +community at large. + +Meanwhile the honest and unfortunate poor can scarcely find +cover, and when they do, why, then their thin blood is drained, +for they have to pay exorbitantly. + +It is apparently easy to transmute wretched humanity into gold. +But who is going to call order out of this horrid chaos? No one, +I am thinking, for no one seems to dare attempt in any thorough +way to solve the question of housing the very poor, and that +question lies at the root of this matter. + +Let any one attempt it, and a thousand formidable vested +interests rise up and confront him, against which he will dash +himself in vain. As to housing the inhabitants of the underworld +at a reasonable rental, no one seems to have entertained the +idea. + +Lease holders and sub-lease holders, landlords and ground +landlords, corporations and churches, philanthropists and +clergymen have all got vested interests in house property where +wretchedness and dirt are conspicuous. "But," said a notable +clergyman in regard to some horrid slum, "I cannot help it, I +have only a life-interest in it," as if, forsooth, he could have +more; did he wish to carry his interests beyond the grave? I +would give life-interest in rotten house property short shrift by +burning the festering places. But such places are not burned, +though sometimes they are closed by the order of the local +authorities. But oftener still they are purchased by local +authorities at great public cost, or by philanthropic trusts. +Then the human rabbits are driven from their warrens to burrow +elsewhere and so leave room for respectability. + +Better-looking and brighter buildings are erected where suites of +rooms are to let at very high prices. Then a tax is placed upon +children, and a premium is offered to sterility. Glowing +accounts appear in the Press, and royalty goes to inspect the new +gold mine! We rub our hands with complacent satisfaction and +say, "Ah! at last something is being done for housing the very +poor!" But what of the rabbits! have they ascended to the +seventh heaven of the new paradise? Not a bit; they cannot offer +the required credentials, or pay the exorbitant rent! not for +them seven flights of stone stairs night and morning; it is so +much easier for rabbits to burrow underground, or live in the +open. So away they scuttle! Some to dustheaps, some back to +Adullam Street, some to nomadic life. But most of them to other +warrens, to share quarters with other rabbits till those warrens +in their turn are converted into "dwellings," when again they +must needs scuttle and burrow elsewhere. + +Can it be wondered at that these people are dirty and idle; and +that many of them ultimately prefer the settled conditions of +prison or workhouse life, or take to vagrancy? + +I cannot find a royal specific for this evil; humanity will, +under any conditions, have its problems and difficulties. +Vagrants have always existed, and probably will continue to exist +while the human race endures. But we need not manufacture them! +Human rookeries and rabbit warrens must go; England, little +England, cannot afford them, and ought not to tolerate them. But +before we dispossess the rooks and the rabbits, let us see to it +that, somewhere and somehow, cleaner nests and sweeter holes are +provided for them. The more I think upon this question the more +I am convinced that it is the great question of the day, and upon +its solution the future of our country depends. + +See what is happening! Thousands of children born to this kind +of humanity become chargeable to the guardians or find entrance +to the many children's homes organised by philanthropy. One +course is taken the bright and healthy, the sound in body and +mind, are emigrated; but the smitten, the afflicted, the feeble +and the worthless are kept at home to go through the same life, +to endure the same conditions as their parents, and in their turn +to produce a progeny that will burrow in warrens or scuttle out +of them even as their parents did before them. + +But the feebler the life, the greater the progeny; this we cannot +escape, for Nature will take care of herself. We, may drive out +the rabbits, we may imprison and punish them, we may compel them +to live in Adullam Street or in lazar houses, we may harry them +and drive them hither and thither, we may give them doles of food +on the Embankment or elsewhere. We may give them chopping wood +for a day, we may lodge them for a time in labour homes; all this +we may do, but we cannot uplift them by these methods. We cannot +exterminate them. But by ignoring them we certainly give them an +easy chance of multiplying to such a degree that they will +constitute a national danger. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE DISABLED + +In this chapter I want to speak of those who suffer from physical +disabilities, either from birth, the result of accident, or +disease. If this great army of homeless afflicted humanity were +made to pass in procession before us, it would, I venture to say, +so touch our hearts that we should not want the procession +repeated. + +Nothing gives us more pleasure than the sight of a number of +people who, suffering from some one or other physical +deprivation, are being taught some handicraft by which they will +be able to earn a modest living. + +Probably nothing causes us greater sadness than the sight of +deformed and crippled men and women who are utterly unable to +render any useful service to the community, and who consequently +have to depend upon their wits for a miserable living. It is a +very remarkable thing that an accident which deprives a man of a +leg, of an arm, or of eyesight, not only deprives him of his +living, but also frequently produces a psychological change. And +unless some counterbalancing conditions serve to influence in an +opposite direction he may become dangerous. It was not without +reason that our older novelists made dwarfs and hunchbacks to be +inhuman fiends. Neither was it without reason that Dickens, our +great student of human nature, made of Quilp a twisted dwarf, and +Stagg a blind man his most dangerous characters. Some years ago +I was well acquainted with a very decent man, a printer; he had +lived for years beyond reproach; he was both a good workman, +husband and father. But he lost his right arm, the result of an +accident at his work, and his character changed from that day. +He became morose, violent and cruel, and obsessed with altogether +false ideas. He could not reason as other men, and he became +dangerous and explosive. Time after time I have seen him +committed to prison, until he became a hopeless prison habitue. +My experience has also shown me that physical deprivations are +equally likely to lead to sharpened wits and perverted moral +sense as to explosive and cruel violence. Probably this is +natural, for nature provides some compensation to those who +suffer loss. + +This is what makes the army of the physically handicapped so +dangerous. The disabled must needs live, and their perverted +moral sense and sharpened wits enable them to live at the expense +of the public. + +Very clever, indeed, many of these men are; they know how to +provoke pity, and they know how to tell a plausible tale. Many +of them can get money without even asking for it. They know full +well the perils that environ the man who begs. I am not ashamed +to say that I have been frequently duped by such fellows, and +have learned by sad experience that my wits cannot cope with +theirs, and that my safety lies in hasty retreat when they call +upon me, for I have always found that conversation with them +leads to my own undoing. + +Witness the following. One winter night my eldest son, who lives +about a mile away, went out to post a letter at midnight. After +dropping his letter in the pillar-box, he was surprised to hear a +voice say, "Will you kindly show me the way to Bridlington?" +"Bridlington! why, it is more than two hundred miles away." The +request made my son gasp, for, as I have said, it was winter and +midnight. + +The audacity of the request, however, arrested his attention, and +that doubtless was the end to be secured. So a conversation +followed. The inquirer was a Scotchman about thirty years of +age; he wore dark glasses and was decently clad; he had been +discharged from St. Bartholomew's Hospital. He was a seaman, but +owing to a boiler explosion on board he had been treated in the +hospital. Now he must walk to Bridlington, where an uncle lived +who would give him a home. He produced a letter from his uncle, +but he had either lost or torn up the envelope. All this and +more he told my son with such candour and sincerity, that he was +soon the poorer by half-a-crown. Then, to improve the fellow's +chance of getting to Bridlington, he brought him to me. I was +enjoying my beauty sleep when that ill-fated knock aroused me. +Donning a warm dressing-gown and slippers, I went down to the +front door, and very soon the three of us were shivering round +the remains of a fire in my dining-room. + +Very lucidly and modestly Angus repeated the above story, not +once did he falter or trip. He showed me the letter from his +uncle, he pointed out the condition of his eyes and the scars on +his face; with some demur he accepted my half-crown, saying that +he did not ask for anything, and that all he wanted was to get to +Bridlington. + +In my pyjamas and dressing-gown I explored the larder and +provided him with food, after which my son escorted him to the +last tramcar, saw him safely on his way to the Seamen's Institute +with a note to the manager guaranteeing the expense of his bed +and board for a few days. + +Next day my son visited the Seamen's Institute, but alas! Angus +was not there, he had not been there. Nevertheless the manager +knew something of him, for three separate gentlemen had sent +Angus to the institute. One had found him in the wilds of +Finchley looking for Bridlington! Another had found him pursuing +the same quest at Highgate, while still another had come on him, +with his dark glasses, bundle and stick, looking for Bridlington +on the road to Southgate. + +I do not know whether the poor fellow ever arrived at +Bridlington, but this I do know, that he has found his way +northwards, and that he is now groping and inquiring for Dawlish +in Devonshire. + +The Manchester Guardian tells us that one silent evening hour +poor Angus was discovered in several different places in the +vicinity of Manchester. The same paper of the next day's date +stated that eleven out of the twelve who met poor Angus were so +overcome by the poignancy of his narrative and the stupendous +character of his task, that they promptly gave him financial +assistance. I am strongly of the opinion that the twelfth man +was entirely without money at the time he met Angus, or I feel +that he would have proved no exception to the rule. In my heart +I was glad to find that the hard-headed citizens of Manchester +are just as kind-hearted and likely to be imposed upon as we are +in London. + +But Angus has been playing his fame for six years at least, for +one gentleman who gave him explicit directions more than five +years ago writes to the Manchester Guardian saying, "I am afraid +he took a wrong turning." + +It is evident that Angus has done fairly well at his business, +and yet it would appear that he never asked for a single penny +since he first started on his endless search. He always accepts +money reluctantly, and I much question whether the police have +right to arrest him, or the gulled public any ground to complain. + +But if Angus should ever get to his kind uncle at Bridlington, +and that respected gentleman should return the five shillings we +gave to help his unfortunate nephew, I will promise to be more +careful in pressing money upon strangers in future. But whether +the money comes to hand or not I have made myself a promise, and +it is this: never more to get out of a warm bed on a cold night +to open the house and entertain a half-blind man that speaks with +a rich Scotch accent. + +But how clever it all is! Why, its very audacity ensures its +success, and Angus, for aught I know, has many fellow-craftsmen. +Certainly if he is alone he must be almost ubiquitous. But Angus +and such-like are not to be wondered at, for Nature herself +endows all living things with the powers to adapt themselves to +circumstances and obtain the means of defence and offence from +their conditions. So Nature deals with the human family, in whom +the struggle for existence develops varied, powerful and maybe +dangerous characteristics. + +At present it is nobody's business to see that the maimed, the +halt, the blind are taught and trained to be of some service, and +made able in some way to earn a subsistence. Philanthropy, it is +true, does something, and also those blessed institutions, the +schools for the blind, and training homes for the crippled. I +never see such institutions without experiencing great gladness, +for I know how much evil they avert. But the great body of the +physically afflicted are without the walls and scope of these +institutions, consequently tens of thousands of men and women, +because of their afflictions, are enabled to prey upon the +community with a cunning that other people cannot emulate. + +We hear daily of accidents. We learn of men and women losing +arms, legs and hands; our hearts are touched for a brief moment, +then we remember the particulars no more. The ultimate +consequences are unseen, but they are not to be avoided, for +every cripple left uncared for may become a criminal of dangerous +type. + +Their elemental needs and passions still exist, notwithstanding +their physical deprivations. They claim the right to eat and +drink, they claim the right of perpetuating their kind. + +Some day perhaps the community will realise what the exercise of +the latter right means. Some day, and Heaven send that day soon, +we shall be horrified at the thought that a vast number of +unfortunates exist among us who, demanding our pity and our care, +are going down to the grave without that care to which their +physical disabilities entitle them. + +As we look at these unfortunates, feelings of pity, disgust or +amusement may be aroused, but one moment's reflection would +convince us that these afflicted homeless creatures manage to +exist and extort an expensive living from the community. + +I have said that every disabled man is a potential criminal, and +that unless he receives some compensation giving him the means of +earning honestly his living, he is certain to be a danger or a +parasite. This is but natural, for in the first place his +physical nature has received a shock, has sustained an outrage, +Nature strikes back, and some one has to suffer. The loss of a +limb means severed muscles, bones and nerves. Nature never +forgets that they ought to be there, but as they are not there +she does without them; but none the less she feels for them +instinctively, and becomes disappointed and bitter because she is +refused the use of them. + +Add to this the anxiety, the sufferings the amputated man feels +when he is also deprived of his means of livelihood, as well as +his limb, and from comfort comes down to penury. Perhaps he has +been able hitherto to keep his wife and children with a fair +amount of comfort; now he is helpless and has to depend upon +them. + +He may be of proud spirit, but he has to endure mortification by +seeing his wife labour and slave for him. He becomes moody, then +passionate, a little drink maddens him, then comes the danger. +He does something, then the police are required, and prison +awaits him. There he thinks and broods over his wrong, with +bitterness and revengeful spirit. Perhaps his wife has been +compelled to give evidence against him; he remembers that, he +scores it up, and henceforth there is no peace for either of +them! + +Frequent convictions follow, ultimately the wife has to claim the +protection of the law, and gets a separation order on account of +his cruelty. Henceforward he is an outcast, his children and +friends cast him off, for they are afraid of him. But he lives +on, and many have to suffer because he has lost a limb. + +We read a great deal about the development of character through +suffering, and well I know the purifying effects suffering has +upon our race; but it is well sometimes to look at the reverse +side, and consider what evil follows in the wake of suffering. + +Blind men, the deaf and the dumb and the physically disabled need +our pitiful consideration. Some of the sweetest, cleverest, +bravest men I know suffer from great physical disabilities, but +they have pleasures and compensations, they live useful lives, +their compensations have produced light and sweetness, they are +not useless in a busy world, they are not mere cumberers of the +ground. They were trained for usefulness whilst they were young. + +But a far different case is presented with the disabled among the +very poor. What chance in life is there for a youth of twenty +who loses an arm or leg? He has no friends whose loving care and +whose financial means can soften his affliction and keep him in +comfort while training for service. Who in this rich, industrial +England wants such service as he can render? Very few! and +those who do make use of him naturally feel that his service is +not worth much. + +Numbers of my acquaintances like Angus half lose their sight! +Who requires their service? No one! But these men live on, and +they mean to live on, and Nature furnishes them with the means by +giving them extra cunning. Many of these fellows, poor disabled +fellows, inhabit the dark places of the underworld. Let us call +them out of their dark places and number them, classify them, +note their disabilities! + +Truly they came down to the underworld through great afflictions. +They form the disabled army of civilisation's industrial world +who have been wounded and crippled in the battle. All sorts of +accidents have happened to them: explosions have blinded them, +steam has scalded them, buffers have crushed them, coal has +buried them, trains have run over them, circular saws have torn +them asunder. They are bent and they are twisted, they are +terrible to look at; as we gaze at them we are fascinated. +March! now see them move! Did you ever see anything like this +march of disabled men from the gloom of the underworld? + +How they shuffle and drag along; what strange, twisted and jerky +movements they have; what sufferings they must endure, and what +pain they must have had. All these thoughts come to us as we +look at the march of the disabled as they twist and writhe past +us. + +The procession is endless, for it is continually augmented by men +and women from the upperworld, who as conscripts are sent to the +army below, because they have sustained injuries in the service +of the world above. + +So they pass! But the upperworld has not done with them; it does +not get rid of its natural obligations so easily. It suffers +with them, and pays dearly for its neglect of them. The disabled +live on, they will not die to please us, and they extract a +pretty expensive living from the world above. The worst of it is +that these unfortunates prey also upon those who have least to +spare, the respectable poor just above the line. They do not +always sit at the gates of the rich asking for crumbs, for the +eloquence of their afflictions and the pity of their woes strike +home to the hearts and pockets of the industrious poor who have +so little to spare. But it is always much easier to rob the +poor! + +It is our boast that Englishmen love justice, and it is a true +boast! But when we read of accidents and of surgical operations, +does our imagination lead us to ask: What about the future of +the sufferers? Very rarely, I expect. + +The fact is, we have got so used to this sight of maimed manhood +that it causes us but little anxious thought, though it may cause +some feelings of revulsion. + +But there is the Employers' Liability Act! Yes, I admit it, and +a blessed Act it is. But the financial consideration given for a +lost limb or a ruined body is not a fortune; it soon evaporates, +then heigho! for the underworld, for bitterness and craft. + +But all accidents do not come within the scope of that Act, not +by any means. If a married woman about to become a mother falls +or rolls down the stairs, when climbing to her home in the +seventh heaven of Block-land, if she sustains long injuries, who +compensates her? If the child is born a monstrosity, though not +an idiot, who compensates for that? If the poor must be located +near the sky, how is it that "lifts" cannot be provided for them? +Who can tell the amount of maimed child, middle-aged and elderly +life that has resulted from the greasy stairs and dark landings +of London dwellings. Industrial life, commercial life and social +life take a rare toll of flesh and blood from the poor. For this +civilisation makes no provision excepting temporary sustentation +in hospitals, workhouses or prisons. Even our prison +commissioners tell us that "our prisons are largely filled with +the very poor, the ignorant, the feeble, the incapable and the +incapacitated." + +It would appear that if we can make no other provision for the +disabled, we can make them fast in prison for a time. But that +time soon passes, and their poor life is again resumed. But the +disabled are not the only suffering unfortunates in the +netherworld who, needing our pity, receive the tender mercies of +prison. For there epileptics abide or roam in all the horror of +their lives "oft-times in water and oft-times in the fire," a +burden to themselves, a danger to others. Shut out from +industrial life and shut out from social life. Refused lodgings +here and refused lodgings there. Sometimes anticipating fits, +sometimes recovering from fits; sometimes in a semi-conscious +state, sometimes in a state of madness. Never knowing what may +happen to them, never knowing what they may do to others. Always +suffering, always hopeless! Treated as criminals till their +deeds are fatal, then certified to be "criminal lunatics." Such +is the life of the underworld epileptic. Life, did I call it?-- +let me withdraw that word; it is the awful, protracted agony of +a living death, in which sanity struggles with madness, rending +and wounding a poor human frame. Happy are they when they die +young! but even epileptics live on and on; but while they live +we consign them to the underworld, where their pitiful cry of +"Woe! woe!" resounds. + +Do not say this is an exaggeration, for it is less than truth, +not beyond it. Poe himself, with all his imagination and power, +could not do full justice to this matter. + +Mendicity societies in their report tell of cunning rascals who +impose on the public by simulating "fits"; they tell of the "king +of fits," the "soap fits king," and others. They point with some +satisfaction to the convictions of these clever rogues, and claim +some credit in detecting them. + +Their statements are true! But why are they true? Because real +epileptics are so common in the underworld, and their sufferings +so palpable and striking, that parasites, even though afflicted +themselves, nay, because of their own disabilities, can and do +simulate the weird sufferings of epileptics. Will mendicity +societies, when they tell us about, enumerate for us, and convict +for us the hoary impostors, also tell us about and enumerate for +us the stricken men and women who are not impostors, and whose +fits are unfortunately genuine? + +If some society will do this, they will do a great public +service; but at present no one does it, so this world of +suffering, mystery and danger remains unexplored. + +I do not wonder that the ancients thought that epileptics +suffered from demoniacal possessions; perhaps they do, perhaps we +believe so still. At any rate we deal with them in pretty much +the same way as in days of old. The ancients bound them with +chains; we are not greatly different--we put them in prison. The +ancients did allow their epileptics to live in the tombs, but we +allow them no place but prison, unless their friends have money! + +But let me end the subject by stating that the non-provision for +epileptics is a national disgrace and a national danger. That +incarceration of epileptics in prison and their conviction as +criminals is unjust and cruel. That it is utterly impossible for +philanthropy to restrain, detain and care for epileptics. That +the State itself must see to the matter! + +But just another word: epileptics marry! Imagine if you can the +life of a woman married to an epileptic. + +Epileptics have children of a sort! Can you imagine what they +are likely to be? You cannot! Well, then, I will tell you. +Irresponsible beings, with abnormal passions, but with little +sense of truth and honour, with no desire for continuous labour, +but possessed of great cunning. The girls probably immoral, the +boys feckless and drunken. + +We have to pay for our neglect; we have no pity upon epileptics. +He and his children have no pity for us! + + + +CHAPTER VII + +WOMEN IN THE UNDERWORLD + +The women of the underworld may be divided into three great +classes. Those who by reason of their habits or mental +peculiarities prefer to live homeless lives. Secondly, those +whom misfortune has deprived of settled home life. Thirdly, +those who, having settled homes, live at starvation point. + +In London there is a great number of each class. With class one +I shall deal briefly, for they do not form a pleasant theme. The +best place to study these wild homeless women is Holloway Prison, +for here you will find them by the hundreds any day you please. +In Holloway Prison during one year 933 women who had been in that +gaol more than ten times were again received into it. + +I am privileged sometimes to address them. As I write I see them +sitting before me. After one of my addresses I was speaking to +one of the wardresses about their repeated convictions, when the +wardress said-- + +"Oh, sir, we are glad to see them come back again, for we know +that they are far better off with us than they are at liberty. +They go out clean and tidy with very much better health than they +came in. It seems cruel to let them out, to live again in dirt +and misery, and though we have an unpleasant duty to perform in +cleansing them when they return, we feel some comfort in the +thought that for a short time they will be cared for. Why, sir, +it is prison and prison alone that keeps them alive." + +Now this army of women is a dolorous army in all truth, for their +faces, their figures are alike strange and repulsive, and many of +them seem to be clothed with the cerements of moral and spiritual +death. They are frequently charged with drunkenness, stealing, +begging, or sleeping out. + +Their names appear on the "Black List," for the law says they are +"habitual inebriates," yet drink has little or nothing to do with +their actual condition. + +Let any one look them in the face as I have looked them in the +face, study their photographs as I have studied them, and I +venture to affirm that they will say with me, "These women are +not responsible beings." For years I have been drumming this +fact into the ears of the public, and at length the authorities +acknowledged it, for in 1907 the Home Office Inspector issued a +report on inebriate reformatories, and gave the following account +of those who had been in such institutions: 2,277 had been +treated in reformatories; of these he says 51 were insane and +sent to lunatic asylums, 315 others were pronounced defectives or +imbeciles. Altogether he tells us that 62 out of every hundred +were irresponsible women and unfit for social and industrial +life. + +My many years' experience of London's underworld confirms the +testimony of the Home Office, for I am persuaded that a very +large proportion of homeless women on our streets are homeless +because they are quite unfitted for, and have no desire for +decent social life. + +Should I be asked about the birth and parentage of these women, I +reply that they come from all classes. Born of tramps and of +decent citizens, born in the slums and sometimes in villas, +almost every rank and station contributes its quota to this class +of wild, hopeless women. + +But I pass on to the second class, those who by misfortune have +become submerged. This, too, is a large class, and a class more +worthy of sympathy and consideration than the others, for amongst +them, in spite of misfortune and poverty, there is a great deal +of womanliness and self-respect. Misfortune, ill-health, sorrow, +loss of money, position or friends, circumstances over which they +have had but little or no control have condemned them to live in +the underworld. Such women present a pitiful sight and a +difficult problem. They cling to the relics of their +respectability with a passionate devotion, and they wait, hope, +starve and despair. + +Often misfortune has come upon them when the days of youth were +passed, and they found themselves in middle age faced with the +grim necessity of earning a living. I have seen many of them +struggle with difficulty, and exhibit rare courage and patience; +I have watched them grow older and feebler. Sometimes I have +provided glasses that their old eyes might be strengthened for a +little needlework, but I have always known that it was only +helping to defer the evil day, when they would no longer be able +to pay the rent for a little room in a very poor neighbourhood. +My mind is charged with the memory of women who have passed +through this experience, who from comfortable homes have +descended to the underworld to wander with tired feet, weary +bodies and hopeless hearts till they lie down somewhere and their +wanderings cease for ever. + +But before we consider these women, let us take a peep at the +lower depths. Come, then! Now we are in a charnel house, for we +are down among the drunken women, the dissolute women that stew +and writhe in the underworld, for whom there is no balm in Gilead +and no physician. Now we realise what moral death means. + +Like the horde of Comus they lie prone, and wallow in their +impurity. Hot as the atmosphere is, feverish though their +defiled bodies be, they call for no friendly hand to give them +water to cool their parched throats. The very suggestion of +water makes them sick and faint. + +But a great cry smites us: "Give us drink! and we will forget +our misery; give us drink, and we will sing and dance before you! +give us drink, and you may have us body and soul! Drink! +drink!" A passionate, yearning, importunate cry everlastingly +comes from them for drink. + +Now with Dante we are walking in Hell; see, there is a form, half +human and half animal, creeping towards us with lewd look and +suggestion. Yonder is an old hag fearful to look upon. Here a +group of cast-off wives, whom the law has allowed outraged +husbands to consign to this perdition; but who, when sober +enough, come back to the upperworld and drag others down to share +their fate. + +Does any one want to know what becomes of the wives who, having +developed a love of drink, have been separated from their +husbands, and cast homeless into the streets? Here in this +circle of Hell you may find them, consigned to a moral death from +which there is no resurrection. + +And the idle, the vicious, the lustful and the criminal are here +too. But we leave them, and get back to the everlasting workers, +the sober and virtuous women of whom I have told. What a +contrast is here presented! Drunkenness, vice, bestiality and +crime! Virtue, industry, honesty and self-respect condemned to +live together! But let us look and listen; we hear a voice +speaking to us-- + +"Dear Mr. Holmes, I am deeply interested in your work, and feel +one with you in mind and heart in the different troubles of human +life, and of their causes and consequences. I feel that if only +my health was better, and I was placed in some other sphere of +life, that I would do something to help on your good work. But, +alas! I shall never be strong again; the hard grinding for a +miserable pittance gives me no chance to get nourishing food and +recover my strength. Some people say to me, 'Why don't you go +into the workhouse or the infirmary?' This I bear in silence, +but it is simply killing me in a slow way. Oh! that it should +take so long to kill some of us. It makes me sad to think that +so many lives are wrecked in this way, that so many are driven +to wrong, that so many others should drift away into lives of +hopelessness. I have been stripped of all, and I am waiting for +the worst." + +Can any language beat that for lucidity and pathos? My readers +will, I am sure, recognise that those are the words of an +educated woman. Yes, her education was begun in England and +finished on the Continent. Were I to mention the name of the +writer's mother, hearts would leap, for that name lives in story +and song. + +But her parents died and left no competence, her health failed, +and teaching became impossible. All she now requires is an out- +patient's ticket for a chest hospital. + +She is a "trouser finisher," and earns one penny per hour; +sometimes she lies on her bed while at work. But by and by she +will not be able to earn her penny per hour; then there will be +"homelessness," but not the workhouse for her. + +But the voice speaks again: "Dear Mr. Holmes, please excuse me +not thanking you sooner for offering me a hospital letter. I +shall, indeed, be very grateful for one when able to get about, +for I shall need something to set me up a bit. + +"At present I am very sadly indeed; my foot seems very much +better, yet not right, the sister thinks. To make matters worse, +I have a very bad gathered finger, and this week I have not been +able to do a stitch of work; indeed, it is very little that I +have been able to do this last ten weeks. Oh, the cruel +oppression of taking advantage and putting extra work for less +pay, because I cannot get out to fetch it myself! + +"The most I get is a penny per hour; it is generally less. +Sister Grace was so vexed by the rude message he sent to-day +while she was here, because I could not do the work, that she +sent a letter to him telling him the fact of my suffering. She +thinks I am in a very bad state through insufficient food, and, +Mr. Holmes, it is true! for no one but God and myself really +know how I have existed. I rarely know what it is to get a +proper meal, for often I do not expend a sixpence on food in a +week when I pay my way, and thank God I have been able to do this +up to the present somehow or other; but all my treasures are +gone, and I look round and wonder what next! + +"My eyes rest on my dear old violin, which is a memory of the +past, although long silent. It has been a great grief to me the +parting with one thing after another, but I go on hoping for +better days that I may regain them; alas! many are now beyond +recall. + +"The parish doctor has been suggested again, but I feel I would +rather die than submit, after all this long struggle and holding +out, especially, as I have been able to keep things a little near +the mark; when they get beyond me, rather than debt I must give +in! + +"Still, I hope for better days, and trust things will brighten +for me and others, for God knows there are many silent sufferers +ebbing their lives away, plodding and struggling with life's +battle. My heart bleeds for them, yet I am powerless to help +them or myself." + +Time and space do not avail, or I could tell story after story of +such lives, for in the underworld they are numerous enough. Who +can wonder that some of them "are made bitter by misfortune"? +Who can wonder that others "are driven to wrong"? Who can be +surprised that "many drift into lives of hopeless uselessness"? +Surely our friend knew what she was talking about, in the +underworld though she be. She sees that there are deeps below +the depths, that she herself is in. Though ill, starving and +hopeless about her own future, she is troubled for others, for +she adds, "since I have known the horror of this life, my heart +goes out to others that are enduring it." + +Now this class of woman is not much in evidence till the final +catastrophe comes, when the doors of a one-roomed home are closed +against them. Even then they do not obtrude themselves on our +observation, for they hide themselves away till the river or +canal gives up its dead. + +But it is not every woman that maintains such a high tone, for +once in the underworld the difficulty of personal cleanliness +confronts them, and dirt kills self-respect. Poverty makes them +acquainted with both physical and moral dirt, and the effect of +one night in a shelter or lodging-house is often sufficient to +destroy self-respect and personal cleanliness for life. + +I am quite sure that I am voicing the opinion of all who have +knowledge of the underworld in which such women are compelled to +live, when I say that the great want in London and in all our +large towns is suitable and well-managed lodging-houses under +municipal control and inspection, where absolute cleanliness and +decency can be assured. Lodging-houses to which women in their +hour of sore need may turn with the certainty that their self- +respect will not be destroyed. But under the present conditions +decent women have no chance of retaining their decency or +recovering their standing in social life. + +Listen again! a widowed tooth-brush maker speaks to us: "Dear +Mr. Holmes, I feel that I must thank you for still allowing me a +pension, and I do thank you so much in increasing it. When I +received it my heart was so full of joy that I could not speak. +My little boys are growing, and they require more than when my +husband died six years ago. I am sure it has been a great +struggle, but I have found such a great help in you, I do not +know how to thank you for all that you have done for me and many +poor workers. + +"I do hope that God will still give you health and strength to +carry on the good work which you are doing for us. When I last +spoke to you I thought my little boys were much better, but I am +sorry to say that when I took them to Great Ormond Street +Hospital, they said they were both suffering from heart disease, +and I was to keep them from school for a time; and they also +suffer from rheumatics. They are to get out all they can. I +have been taking them to the hospital for over two years, and +sometimes I feel downhearted, as I had hoped they would have +improved before this. + +"The eldest boy does not have fits now, and this I am thankful +for. But I feel that I am wasting a lot of your time reading +this letter, so I must thank you very much for all your great +goodness to me." + +But one of the boys is now dead, to the other "fits" have +returned, and the widow still sits, sits and sits at her tooth- +brushes in poverty and hunger. + +Listen to an old maid's story; she is a shoe machinist: "Yes, +sir, I have kept them for six years, and I hope to keep them till +they can keep themselves, and then perhaps they will help to keep +me." + +The speaker was a worn and feeble woman of fifty-five years, at +least that was the age she gave me, and most certainly she did +not look less. We were talking about her two boys, her nephews, +whose respective ages were eleven and thirteen. + +"Both their parents died six years ago; their father was my only +brother, and their mother had neither brothers nor sisters! Of +course I took them; what else could I do? What! Send them to +the workhouse? Not while I can work for them. Ah, sir! you +were only joking!" In this she was partly right, for I had +merely offered the suggestion in order to draw her out. + +"So after the double funeral they came to live with you?" "Yes." +"Did their parents leave any money?" "Money, no! How can poor +people leave any money? their club money paid for the funeral +and the doctor's bill." "So they owed nothing?" "Not a penny; +if they had, I should have paid it somehow." + +And doubtless she would, though how, it passes my wit to +conceive. But there, it would have meant only a few more hours' +work daily for the brave old spinster, but not for the boys, for +they would have been fed while she fasted, they would have slept +while she worked. + +"Yes," she continued, "I am a boot machinist, and it is pretty +hard work; we had a tough time when I had to pay two shillings +weekly for that machine, but we managed, and now you see it is +paid for, it is my own; but really, times are harder for us. The +boys are growing and want more food and clothing; they go to +school, and must have boots; it's the boots that floor me, they +cost a lot of money." + +I called the boys to me and examined their boots; their old aunt +looked as if she was going to prevent me, but presently she said, +"I had no work last week, or I should have got him a pair." +"Him" was the younger boy, whose boots, or the remains of them, +presented a deplorable appearance; and, truth to tell, the elder +boy's were not much better. So I said to the brave old soul, +"Look here, I will give these boys a good new pair of boots each +on one condition!" "What is that." "That you allow me to buy +you a pair." Again there was a look of resentment, but I +continued, "I am quite sure that you require boots as badly as +your boys, and I cannot think of them having nice boots and you +going without, so I want you to all start equal; kindly put out +your foot and let me look." In a shamefaced sort of a way she +put her left foot forward; a strange, misshapen, dilapidated +apology of a boot covered the left foot. "Now the right," I +said. "Never mind looking at the other, it does not matter, does +it?" she said. "Yes, it does," so the right foot was presented; +one glance was enough! "That will do; come along for three pairs +of boots." + +They returned home, the boys rejoicing in their new boots, and +their feeble old aunt tolerating hers for the sake of her boys. +Dear, brave, self-denying, indomitable old maid. She had visited +the fatherless in their afflictions, she had toiled unceasingly +for six long years, she had taken willingly upon her weak +shoulders a heavy burden; a burden that, alas! many strong men +are only too willing to cast upon others. She had well earned +her pair of boots, and sincerely do I hope that when her poor +feet get accustomed to their circumscribed area, and the pressure +of well-made boots has become comforting, that she will derive +pleasure from them, even though they represent "the first charity +that I have ever received." + +But is it not wonderful, this marvellous self-denial of the very +poor! Other spheres of life doubtless produce many noble lives +and heroic characters, but was ever a braver deed done than this +feeble and weary old maid did? + +And it was all so natural, so commonplace, so very matter-of- +fact, for when I spoke warmly of her deed she said very simply, +"Well, what else could I do!" + +And in the underworld, amidst the dirt and squalor, the poverty, +the high rents, and the poor, poor earnings of poor, poor women, +there are plenty like her. + +God grant that when the lads can work they will lighten her +burdens and cheer her heart by working for her who had worked so +hard for them. + +Listen also to the story of the blouse-makers disclosed to the +upper world by the Press. + +"A pathetic story of poverty was told to the Hackney coroner, who +held an inquiry into the death of Emily Langes, 59, a blouse- +maker of Graham Road, Dalston. Death was due to starvation. + +"Annie Marie, an aged sister, said they had both been in great +poverty for a very long time. They had worked at blouse-making +as long as they could, but that work had fallen off so much that +really all they had got to live on was by selling off their home. + +They had not enough to live on, and had to pay four shillings and +sixpence rent. + +"The coroner: 'Selling your home will soon come to an end. You +had best apply in the proper direction for help; the parish must +bury her. Don't go on ruining yourself by selling off things.' + +"Mr. Ingham, relieving officer for the No. 7 ward at Hackney, +said that he knew the old couple. He remembered giving relief to +both sisters about two months ago, but had had no application +since. He offered the 'House' to the living sister. + +"A juror: 'Are questions put which might upset a proud +respectable old couple when they ask for relief?' + +"Witness: 'Of course we have to inquire into their means pretty +closely.' + +"The coroner: 'It seems pretty clear that the old couple were +too proud to ask for help.' + +"The jury returned a verdict that Emily Langes died from +exhaustion caused by want of food." + +But listen again! as we stand in the land of crushed womanhood +and starving childhood. We hear a gentle voice, "Mother, it is +nearly one o'clock, the men have gone by from the public-house; +you go to bed, dear, and I will finish the work." A feeble +woman, with every nerve broken, rises from her machine, shakes +her dress and lies down on her bed, but her daughter sits on and +on. + +Oh the sighs and groans and accents of sorrow that come upon our +listening ears! Oh the weariness, the utter weariness of this +land below the line! + +Midnight! and thousands of women are working! One o'clock, and +thousands are still at it! Two o'clock, the widows are still at +work! Thank God the children are asleep. Three o'clock a.m., +the machines cease to rattle, and in the land of crushed +womanhood there is silence if not peace. But who is to pay? +Shall we ultimately evolve a people that require no sleep, that +cannot sleep if they would? Is crushed womanhood to produce +human automatic machines? Or is civilisation generally to pay +the penalty for all this grinding of human flesh and blood? Let +me tell the story of an old machinist! I have told part of it +before, but the sequel must be told. I had made the acquaintance +and friendship of three old women in Bethnal Green who lived +together, and collaborated in their work. They made trousers for +export trade; one machined, one finished, and one pressed, brave +old women all! They all worked in the machinist's room, for this +saved gas and coal, and prevented loss of time. At night they +separated, each going to her own room. The machinist was a +widow, and her machine had been bought out of her husband's club +and insurance money when he died twenty-one years before. I had +often seen it, heard its rattle, and witnessed its whims. + +She once told me that it required a new shuttle, and I offered to +pay for one; but she said, "I cannot part with it; it will last +my time, for I want a new shuttle too!" + +Six months after she was found dead in her bed by her partners +when they came to resume work. + +Her words had come true! The old machine stood silent under the +little window; its old shuttle no longer whirred and rattled with +uncertain movements. It was motionless and cold. On a little +bed the poor old brave woman lay cold and motionless too! for +the shuttle of her life had stopped, never to move again. + +The heroic partnership of the old women was broken, never in this +world to be resumed, and so two old hearts sorrowed and two +troubled minds wondered how they would be able to live without +her. + +I knew her well; it was my privilege to give her some happiness +and some change from grime and gloom, to take her away sometimes +from the wayward shuttle and rattling machine. I knew that she +would have selected such a death could she have chosen, for she +dreaded the parish. I think, too, that she would have wished for +her old machine to be buried with her, and for its silent shuttle +to be beside her in her coffin. To her it was a companion, and +for it her husband died. Twenty-one years the machine and +herself had lived with each other and for each other. Sharing +with each other's toil, if not each other's hopes and fears! +Working! working! unceasingly through life--in death and rest +they were not divided. + +It was a blessed thing that her machine partner required no food, +or life would have been even more serious than it was. But it +had its whims and its moods, sometimes it resented everlasting +work at three-half-pence per hour for the pair of them, and it +"jibbed." But a little oil and a soothing word, and, it must be +feared, sometimes with a threat, and the old thing went again. + +Surely it will be sacrilege for any one else to sit upon that old +chair and try to renew the life and motion of the old machine! + +It is strange that this oppression of women which is the cause of +my greatest sorrow should also be the cause of my keenest joy. +But it is so! And why? Because I number two thousand of these +underworld women slaves among my personal friends, and I am proud +of it! The letters I have given are a few out of hundreds that I +have received. I know these women as few know them. I know +their sufferings and their virtues, their great content and their +little requirements. I know that they have the same capabilities +for happiness as other people, and I know that they get precious +little chance of exercising those capabilities. Strange again, I +get no begging letters from them, though I do from others who are +better placed. I declare it to be wonderful! This endurance and +patience of London's miserably paid women. I tell you that I am +the happiest man alive! Why? Because during the present year a +thousand of my poor friends from the underworld came up for a +time and had a fortnight, a whole fortnight's rest each with food +and comfort in a beautiful rest home by the sea. For kind +friends have enabled me to build one for them and for them alone! + +And I was there sometimes to see, and it was good for me. So +Mrs. Holmes and myself make frequent visits to the rest home, and +every time we visit it we become more and more convinced that not +only is it a "Palace Beautiful," but that it is also a joy to the +slave women who have the good fortune to spend a holiday (all too +short) in it. + +Gloom cannot enter "Singholm" or, if it does enter, it promptly +and absolutely disappears. Ill-temper cannot live there, the +very flowers smile it away. The atmosphere itself acts like +"laughing gas." So the house fairly rings with merry laughter +from elderly staid women equally as from the younger ones, whose +contact with serious and saddening life has not been so +paralysing to joyous emotions. + +It did us good to hear such jolly laughter from throats and +organs that, but for Singholm, must have rusted and decayed. + +One of our trustees was with us, it being his first visit to the +home. I know that he was surprised at the size, the beauty, the +comfort and refinement of the whole place. The garden filled him +with delight, the skill of the architect in planning the +building, together with the style, gave him increased pleasure. + +The great drawing-room and the equally large dining-room rather +astonished him. The little bedrooms he declared perfect. But +what astonished him most of all was the unaffected happiness of +the women; for this I do not think he was prepared. Well, as I +have said, gloom cannot live in Singholm, and this I have found +out by personal experience, for if I am quite cross and grumpy in +London, I cannot resist the exhilaration that prevails at +Singholm among London's underworld women. + +I think I may say that our trustee was surprised at something +else! But then he is a bachelor, and so of course does not +understand the infinite resources of femininity. + +"How nice they look," he said. "How well they dress"; and, once +again, "How clean and tidy they are; how well their colours +blend!" + +Thank God for this! we hold no truce with dirt at Singholm; we +bid dowdyism begone! avaunt! I will tell you a secret! +Singholm demands respect for itself and self-respect for its +inmates. + +Our trustee's testimony is true; the women belonging to our +association do look nice; when they are at Walton they rise to +the occasion as if they were to the manner born. + +When, with their cheap white or blue blouses, they sit under the +palms in our drawing-room, all, even the oldest and poorest, +neat--nay, smart if you will--they present a picture that can +only be appreciated by those who know their lives. Some people +might find fault, but to me the colour and tone of the picture is +perfect. + +As there were seventy of them, there was room for variety, and +they gave it! Look at them! There they sit as the shades of +night are falling. They have been out all day long, and have +come in tired. Are they peevish? Not a bit! Are they +downhearted? No! + +There is my friend who makes no secret about it, and tells us +that she is forty-six years of age; this is the first time she +has ever seen the sea, and she laughs at the thought. The sun +has browned, reddened and roughened her face, and when I say, +"How delicate you look," she bursts again into merry laughter, +and the whole party join her. Mrs. Holmes and myself join in, +and our worthy trustee, bachelor and Quaker though he be, laughs +merriest of all. + +Aye! but this laughter was sweet music, but somehow it brought +tears to my eyes. + +Now just look at my friend over there beside one of the palms, +her feet resting so naturally on the Turkey carpet! You observe +she sits majestically in a commodious chair; she needs one! For +she is five feet eleven inches in height, and weighs sixteen +stone. I call her "The Queen," for when she stands up she is +erect and queenly with a noble head and pleasing countenance. + +She makes no secret about her age; "I am sixty, and I have been +here four times, and, please God, I'll come forty-four more +times," and she looks like it. But what if there had been no +Singholm to look forward to year by year? Why, then she would +have been heavy in heart as well as in body, and her erect form +would have been bent, for she is a hard worker from Bethnal +Green. + +The idea of coming forty-four more times to Singholm, and she +sixty-six, was the signal for more laughter, and again Singholm +was tested; but our builder had done his work well. + +"Turn on the electric light, matron!" There is a transformation +scene for you! Now you see the delicate art colours in the +Turkey carpets, and the subdued colours in the Medici Society's +reproduced pictures. + +See how they have ranged their chairs all round by the walls, and +the centre of the room is unoccupied, saving here and there +maidenhair ferns and growing flowers. Now look at the picture in +its fulness! and we see poor old bent and feeble bodies bowed +with toil, and faces furrowed by unceasing anxiety; but the sun, +the east wind, the sea air and Singholm have brightened and +browned them. + +There is my poor old friend, long past threescore and ten, to +whom Singholm for a time is verily Heaven; but--"Turn on the +gramophone, please, matron." Thanks to a kind friend, we have a +really good one, with a plentiful supply of records. The matron, +in the wickedness of her heart, turns on an orchestral +"cakewalk." The band plays, old bodies begin to move and sway, +and seventy pair of feet begin unconsciously to beat the floor. +Laughter again resounds; our Quaker himself enters into the +spirit of it, so I invite him to lead off with the "Queen" for +his partner, at which he was dismayed, although he is a veritable +son of Anak. + +But to my dismay the bent and feeble septuagenarian offered to +lead off with myself as partner, at which I collapsed, for alas, +I cannot dance. Then our trustee led the roars of laughter that +testified to my discomfiture. + +So we had no dancing, only a cakewalk. But we had more merriment +and music, and then our little evening service. "What hymn shall +we have?" Many voices called out, "Sun of my soul," so the +matron went to the piano, and I listened while they sang "Watch +by the sick, enrich the poor," which for me, whenever the poor, +the feeble and aged sing it, has a power and a meaning that I +never realise when the organ leads a well-trained choir and a +respectable church congregation to blend their voices. + +Then I read to them a few words from the old, but ever new, Book, +and closed with a few simple, well-known prayers, and then--as +old Pepys has it--"to bed." + +We watch them file up the great staircase one by one, watch them +disappear into their sweet little rooms and clean sheets. To me, +at any rate, the picture was more comforting and suggestive than +Burne Jones's "Golden Stairs." In fifteen minutes the electric +light was switched off, and Singholm was in darkness and in +peace. But outside the stars were shining, the flowers still +blooming, the garden was full of the mystery of sweet odours; +close by the sea was singing its soothing lullaby, and God was +over all! + +But let us get back to the underworld! + +"How long have we lived together, did you ask? well, ever since +we were born, and she is sixty-seven," pointing to a paralysed +woman, who was sitting in front of the window. "I am two years +younger," she continued, "and we have never been separated; we +have lived together, worked together, and slept together, and if +ever we did have a holiday, we spent it together. And now we are +getting old, just think of it! I am sixty-five, isn't it +terrible? They always used to call us 'the girls' when mother, +father and my brothers were alive, but they have all gone--not +one of them left. But we 'girls' are left, and now we are +getting old--sixty-five--isn't it terrible? We ought to be +ashamed of it, I suppose, but we are not, are we, dear? For we +are just 'the girls' to each other, and sometimes I feel as +strong and as young as a girl." + +"How long have you lived in the top of this four-storey house?" +I asked. "Sixteen years," came the reply. "All alone?" "No, +sir, we have been together." "And your sister, how long has she +been paralysed?" "Before we came to this house." "Does she ever +go out?" "Of course she does; don't I take her out in the bath- +chair behind you?" "Can she wash and dress herself, do her hair, +and make herself as clean and tidy as she is?" "I do it for +her." + +"But how do you get her down these interminable stairs?" I +asked. + +"She does that herself, sitting down and going from step to +step," she said, and then added, "but it is hard work for her, +and it takes her a very long time." + +"Now tell me," I said, "have you ever had a holiday?" "Yes, we +have had one since my sister became paralysed, and we went to +Herne Bay." "Did you take the bath-chair with you?" "Of course +we did; how could she go without it?" "And you pushed her about +Herne Bay, and took her on the sands in it?" I said. "Of +course," she said quite naturally, as if she was surprised at my +question. "Now tell me how much rent do you pay for these two +rooms?" "Seven shillings and sixpence per week; I know it is too +much, but I must have a good window for her, where she can sit +and look out." "How do you do your washing?" "I pay the +landlady a shilling a week to do it." "How long have you worked +at umbrella covering?" "Ever since we left school, both of us; +we have never done anything else." "How long have your parents +been dead" "More than forty years," was the answer. + +To every one of the replies made by the younger sister, the +paralytic at the window nodded her head in confirmation as though +she would say, "Quite true, quite true!" + +"Forgive me asking so many questions, but I want to understand +how you live; you pay seven-and-six rent, and one shilling for +washing every week; that comes to eight shillings and sixpence +before you buy food, coal, and pay for gas; and you must burn a +lot of gas, for I am sure that you work till a very late hour," +and the elder sister nodded her head. "Yes, gas is a big item, +but I manage it," and then the elder one spoke. "Yes, she is a +wonderful manager! a wonderful manager! she is better than I +ever was." "Well, dear, you managed well, you know you did, and +we saved some money then, didn't we!" + +"Ah! we did, but mine is all gone, and I can't work now; but you +are a good manager, better than I ever was." + +I looked at the aged and brave couple, and took stock of their +old but still good furniture that told its own story, and said, +"You had two accounts in the Post-Office Savings Bank, and when +you both worked you saved all you could?" "Yes, sir, we worked +hard, and never wasted anything." Again the sixty-seven old girl +broke in: "But mine is all gone, all gone, but she is a +wonderful manager." "And mine is nearly all gone, too," said the +younger, "but I can work for both of us," and the elder sister +nodded her head as if she would say, "And she can, too!" I +looked at the dozen umbrellas before me, and said, "What do you +get for covering these?" "Ah! that's what's called, vulgarly +speaking, a bit of jam! they are gents' best umbrellas, and I +shall get three shillings for them. I got them out yesterday +from the warehouse, after waiting there for two hours. I shall +work till twelve to-night and finish them by midday to-morrow; +they are my very best work." Three shillings for a dozen! her +very best work! and she finding machine and thread, and waiting +two hours at the factory! + +"Come," I said, "tell me what you earned last week, and how many +hours you worked?" "I earned ten shillings and sixpence; but +don't ask me how many hours I worked, for I don't know; I begin +when it is light, because that saves gas, and I work as long as I +can, for I am strong and have good health." "But," I said, "you +paid eight shillings and sixpence for rent and washing; that left +you with two shillings. Does your sister have anything from the +parish?" I felt sorry that I had put the question, for I got a +proud "No, sir," followed by some tears from the sixty-five-year- +old "girl." Presently I said, "However do you spend it?" +"Didn't I tell you that I had saved some, and was drawing it? +But I manage, and get a bit of meat, too!" Again from the window +came the words, "She is a good manager." + +"What will you do when you have drawn all your savings?" "Oh! I +shall manage, and God is good," was all I could get. + +A brave, heroic soul, surely, dwells in that aged girl, for in +her I found no bitterness, no repining; nay, I found a sense of +humour and the capability of a hearty laugh as we talked on and +on, for I was in wonderland. + +When I rose to leave, she offered to accompany us--for a friend +was with me--downstairs to the door; I said, "No, don't come +down, we will find our way; stop and earn half-a-crown, and +please remember that you are sixty-five." "Hush!" she said, +"the landlady will hear you; don't tell anybody, isn't it awful? +and we were called the girls," and she burst into a merry laugh. +During our conversation the paralysed sister had several times +assured me that she "would like to have a ride in a motor-car." +This I am afraid I cannot promise her, much as I would like to do +so; but the exact object of my visit was to make arrangements for +"the girls" to go to our home of rest for a whole fortnight. + +And they went, bath-chair as well. For sixteen long years they +had not seen the sea or listened to its mighty voice, but for a +whole fortnight they enjoyed its never-ending wonder and inhaled +its glorious breath. And the younger "girl" pushed the chair, +and the older "girl" sat in it the while they prattled, and +talked and managed, till almost the days of their real girlhood +came back to them. Dull penury and sordid care were banished for +a whole fortnight and appetite came by eating. The older "girl" +said, "If I stop here much longer, I know I shall walk," and she +nearly managed it too, for when helped out of her chair, she +first began to stand, and then to progress a little step by step +by holding on to any friendly solid till she almost became a +child again. But the fortnight ended all too soon, and back to +their upper room, the window and the umbrellas they came, to live +that fortnight over and over again, and to count the days, weeks +and months that are to elapse before once again the two old girls +and an old--so old--bath-chair will revel and joy, eat and rest, +prattle and laugh by the sea. + +But they have had their "motor ride," too! and the girls sat +side by side, and although it was winter time they enjoyed it, +and they have a new theme for prattle. + +I have since ascertained that the sum of ten shillings, and ten +shillings only, remained in the Post-Office Savings Bank to the +credit of the managing sister. + +But I have also learned something else quite as pitiful--it is +this: the allowance of coal during the winter months for these +heroic souls was one half-hundredweight per week, fifty-six lb., +which cost them eightpence-halfpenny. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MARRIAGE IN THE UNDERWORLD + +Young folk marry and are given in marriage at a very early age in +the underworld. Their own personal poverty and thousands of +warning examples are not sufficient to deter them. Strange to +say, their own parents encourage them, and, more strange still, +upperworld people of education and experience lend a willing hand +in what is at the best a deplorable business. + +Under their conditions it is perhaps difficult to say what other +course can or ought to be taken, for their homes are like +beehives, and "swarming" time inevitably comes. That oftentimes +comes when young people of either sex are midway in their +"teens." The cramped little rooms or room that barely sufficed +for the parents and small children are altogether out of the +question when the children become adolescent. The income of the +family is not sufficient to allow the parents, even if they were +desirous of doing so, taking larger premises with an extra +bedroom. Very few parents brace themselves to this endeavour, +for it means not only effort but expense. So the young folks +swarm either to lodgings, or to marriage, and the pretence of +home life. + +Private lodgings for girls are dangerous and expensive, while +public lodgings for youths are probably a shade worse. So +marriage it is, and boys of nineteen unite with girls one or two +years younger. + +I have no doubt that the future looks very rosy to the young +couple whose united earnings may amount to as much as thirty +shillings weekly, for it is an axiom of the poor that two can +live cheaper than one. + +It is so easy to pay a deposit on a single room, and so easy, so +very easy, to purchase furniture on the hire system. Does not +the youth give his mother ten shillings weekly? Why not give it +to a wife? Does not the girl contribute to her mother's +exchequer? Why may not she become a wife and spend her own +earnings? Both are heartily sick of their present home life, any +change must be for the better! So marriage it is! But they have +saved nothing, they are practically penniless beyond the current +week's wages. Never mind, they can get their wedding outfit on +the pay weekly rule, the parson will marry them for nothing. +"Here's a church, let's go in and get married." Christmas, +Easter or Bank Holiday comes to their aid, and they do it! and, +heigho! for life's romance. + +The happy bride continues at the factory, and brings her +shillings to make up the thirty. They pay three shillings and +sixpence weekly for their room, one-and-six weekly for their +household goods, two more shillings weekly are required for their +wedding clothes, that is all! Have they not twenty-three +shillings left! + +They knew that they could manage it! All goes merrily as a +marriage bell! Hurrah! They can afford a night or two a week at +a music-hall; why did they not get married before? how stupid +they had been! + +But something happens, for the bride becomes a mother. Her wages +cease, and thirty shillings weekly for two is a very different +matter to twenty shillings for three! + +They had to engage an old woman for nurse for one week only. But +that cost seven shillings and sixpence. A number of other extras +are incurred, all to be paid out of his earnings. They have not +completed the hire purchase business; they have even added to +that expense by the purchase of a bassinet at one shilling weekly +for thirty weeks. The bassinet, however, serves one useful +purpose, it saves the expense of a cradle. + +In less than a fortnight the girl mother is again knocking at the +factory door. She wishes to become an "out-worker"; the manager, +knowing her to be a capable machinist, gives her work, and +promises her a constant supply. + +Now they are all right again! Are they? Why, she has no sewing- +machine! Stranded again! not a bit of it. The hire purchase +again comes to her help. Eighteenpence deposit is paid, a like +weekly payment promised, signed for and attended to; and lo! a +sparkling new sewing-machine is deposited in their one room. Let +us take an inventory of their goods: one iron bedstead, flock +mattress, two pairs of sheets, two blankets and a common +counterpane, a deal chest of drawers, a deal table, two Windsor +chairs, a bassinet carriage, a sewing-machine, fire-shovel, +fender and poker, some few crocks, a looking-glass, a mouth-organ +and a couple of towels, some knives, forks and spoons, a tea-pot, +tea-kettle, saucepan and frying-pan. But I have been very +liberal! They stand close together, do those household goods; +they crowd each other, and if one moves, it jostles the other. +The sewing-machine stands in front of the little window, for it +demands the light. It took some scheming to arrange this, but +husband and wife ultimately managed it. The bassinet stands +close to the machine, that the girl mother may push it gently +when baby is cross, and that she may reach the "soother" and +replace it when it falls from baby's mouth. + +Now she is settled down! off she goes! She starts on a life of +toil, compared to which slavery is light and pleasant. Oh, the +romance of it; work from morn till late at night. The babe +practically unwashed, the house becomes grimy, and the bed and +bassinet nasty. The husband's wages have not risen, though his +expenses have; other children come and some go; they get behind +with their rent; an "ejectment order" is enforced. The wretched +refuse of the home is put on the street pavement, the door is +locked against them, and the wretched couple with their children +are on the pavement too! The only thing to survive the wreck is +the sewing-machine. The only thing that I know among the many +things supplied to the poor on the hire system that is the least +bit likely to stand the wear and tear is the machine. Doubtless +the poor pay highly for it; still it is comforting to know that +in this one direction the poor are supplied with good articles. +And the poor respect their machines, as the poor always respect +things that are not shoddy. + +I have drawn no fancy picture, but one that holds true with +regard to thousands. Evils that I cannot enumerate and that +imagination cannot exaggerate wait upon and attend these +unfortunate, nay, criminal marriages; which very largely are the +result of that one great all-pervading cause--the housing of the +poor. + +But in the underworld there are much worse kinds of married life +than the one I have pictured, for those young people did start +life with some income and some hopes. But what can be said +about, and what new condemnation can be passed upon, the marriage +of feeble-minded, feeble-bodied, homeless wanderers? United in +the bonds of holy matrimony by an eager clergy, and approved in +this deplorable step by an all-wise State, thousands of crazy, +curious, wretched, penniless individuals, to whom even the hire +system is impossible, join their hopeless lives. + +Half idiots of both sexes in our workhouses look at each other, +and then take their discharge after a mutual understanding. They +experience no difficulty in finding clergymen ready to marry them +and unite them in the bonds of poverty and the gall of +wretchedness. The blessing of the Church is pronounced upon this +coupling, and away they go! + +Over their lives and means of living I will draw a veil, for +common decency forbids me to speak, as common decency ought to +have forbidden their marriage. + +But down in the underworld, and very low down, too, are +numberless couples whose plight is perhaps worse, for they have +at any rate known the refined comfort of good homes, but +remembrance only adds poignancy to suffering and despair. + +Read the following story, and after condemnation upon +condemnation has been passed upon the thoughtless or wicked +marriages of the poor, tell me, if you will, what condemnation +shall be passed upon the educated when they, through marriage, +drag down into this inferno innocent, loving and pure women? + +It was Boxing Day in a London police-court. Twenty-five years +have passed, but that day is as fresh in my memory as though it +were yesterday. The prisoners' rooms were filled, the precincts +of the court were full, and a great crowd of witnesses and +friends, or of the curious public, were congregated in the +street. + +Yesterday had been the great Christian festival, the celebration +of the birth of the Prince of Peace, when the bells had rang out +the old story "Peace on earth, good-will to men." To-day it +looked as though Hell had been holding carnival! + +Nearly one hundred prisoners had to come before the magistrate. +I can see them now! as one by one they passed before him, for +time has not dimmed the vivid picture of that procession. I +remember their stories, and think still of their cuts and wounds. +Outside the court the day was dull, and inside the light was bad +and the air heavy with the fumes of stale debauch and chloride of +lime. And yesterday had been Christmas Day in the metropolis of +Christendom. + +Hours passed, and the kindly magistrate sat on apportioning +punishment, fitting the sentence as it were by instinct. At two +o'clock he rose for a short recess, a hasty luncheon, and then +back to his task. + +At the end of the long procession came a smitten woman. Darkness +and fog now enveloped the court as the woman stood in the dock. +Her age was given as twenty-eight; her occupation pickle-making. +First let me picture that woman and then tell her story, for she +represents a number of women into whose forlorn faces I have +looked and of whose hopeless hearts I have an intimate knowledge. + +Some men have conquered evil habits, helped by the love of a pure +woman, without which they would have vainly struggled or have +readily succumbed. But while I know this, I think of the women +who have fastened the tendrils of their heart's affection round +unworthy men, and have married them, hoping, trusting and +believing that their love and influence would be powerful enough +to win the men to sobriety and virtue. Alas! how mistaken they +have been! What they have endured! Of such was this woman! +There she stood, the embodiment of woe. A tall, refined woman, +her clothing poor and sparse, her head enveloped in surgical +bandages. + +In the darkness of the Christmas night she had leaped from the +wall of a canal bridge into the murky gloom, her head had struck +the bank, and she rolled into the thick, black water. + +It was near the basin of the Surrey Canal, and a watchman on duty +had pulled her out; she had been taken to a hospital and attended +to. Late in the afternoon the policeman brought her to the +court, where a charge of attempted suicide was brought against +her. But little evidence was taken, and the magistrate ordered a +week's remand. In the cells I had a few moments' conversation +with her, but all I could get from her was the pitiful moan, "Why +didn't they let me die? why didn't they let me die?" + +In a week's time I saw her again; surgical bandages were gone, +medical attention and a week's food and rest had done something +for her, but still she was the personification of misery. + +I offered to take charge of her, and as she quietly promised not +to repeat the attempt, the magistrate kindly committed her to my +care. So we went to her room: it was a poor place, and many +steps we climbed before we entered it. High up as the room was, +and small as were its dimensions, she, out of the nine shillings +she earned at the pickle factory paid three and sixpence weekly +for it. I had gathered from what she had told me that she was in +poverty and distress. So on our way I brought a few provisions; +leaving these and a little money with her, I left her promising +to see her again after a few days. But before leaving she +briefly told me her story, a sad, sad story, but a story to be +read and pondered. + +She was the only daughter of a City merchant, and had one +brother. While she was quite a child her mother died, and at an +early age she managed her father's household. She made the +acquaintance of a clever and accomplished man who was an +accountant. He was older than she, and of dissipated habits. +Her father had introduced him to his home and daughter, little +thinking of the consequences that ensued. She had no mother to +guide her, she was often lonely, for her father was immersed in +his business. + +In a very short time she had fixed her heart on to the man, and +when too late her father expostulated, and finally forbade the +man the house. This only intensified her love and led to +quarrels with her father. Ultimately they married, and had a +good home and two servants. In a little over three years two +children added to her joys and sorrows. Still her husband's +faults were not amended, but his dissipation increased. Monetary +difficulties followed, and to avoid disgrace her father was +called upon to provide a large sum of money. + +This did not add to his sympathy, but it estranged the father and +child. + +Then difficulties followed, and soon her husband stood in the +dock charged with embezzlement. Eighteen months' imprisonment +was awarded him, but the greater punishment fell upon the +suffering wife. Her father refused to see her, so with her two +little ones she was left to face the future. Parting with most +of her furniture, jewellery, servant, she gave up her house, took +two small rooms, and waited wearily for the eighteen months to +pass. + +They passed, and her husband came back to her. But his character +was gone, the difficulty of finding employment stared him in the +face. + +He joined the ranks of the shabby-genteel to live somehow by bits +of honest work, mixed with a great deal of dishonest work. Four +years of this life, two more children for the mother, increasing +drunkenness, degenerating into brutality on her husband's part. +Her father's death and some little money left to her gave +momentary respite. But the money soon went. Her brother had +taken the greater portion and had gone into a far country. This +was the condition of affairs when her husband was again arrested; +this time for forgery. There was no doubt about his guilt, and a +sentence of five years' penal servitude followed. Again she +parted with most of her home, reducing it to one room. + +With her four children round her she tried to eke out an +existence. She soon became penniless, and ultimately with her +children took refuge in a London workhouse. After a time the +guardians sent the four children to their country school and +nursing home, when she was free to leave the workhouse and get +her own living. + +She came out with a letter of introduction to the pickle factory, +and obtained employment at nine shillings a week. The weeks and +months passed, her daily task and common round being a mile walk +to the factory, ten hours' work, and then the return journey. +One week-end on her homeward journey she was attracted and +excited by a fire; when she resumed her journey she was +penniless, her week's wages had been stolen from her. Her only +warm jacket and decent pair of boots then had to be pawned, for +the rent must be paid. Monday found her again at the monotonous +round, but with added hardships. + +She missed the jacket and the boots, and deprived herself of food +that she might save enough money wherewith to take them out of +pawn. Christmas Eve came, and she had not recovered them. She +sat in her room lonely and with a sad heart, but there was mirth +and noise below her, for even among the poor Bacchus must be +worshipped at Christmas time. + +One of the women thought of the poor lone creature up at the top +of the house, and fetched her down. They had their bottles of +cheap spirits, for which they had paid into the publican's +Christmas club. She drank, and forgot her misery. Next morning, +when the bells of a neighbouring church were ringing out, they +awoke her as she lay fully dressed on her little bed. She felt +ill and dazed, and by and by the consciousness came to her of +fast night's drinking. Christmas Day she spent alone, ill, +miserable and ashamed. "I must have been drunk!" she kept +repeating to herself, and on Christmas night she sought her +death. + +I wrote to kind friends, and interested some ladies in her +welfare. Plenty of clothing was sent for her; a better room, not +quite so near the sky, was procured for her. Her daily walk to +the factory was stopped, for more profitable work was given to +her. Finally I left her in the hands of kind friends that I knew +would care for her. + +Two years passed, and on Christmas Eve I called with a present +and a note sent her by a friend. She was gone--her husband had +been released on ticket-of-leave, had found her and joined her, +and for a time she kept him as well as herself. He was more +brutal than before, and in his fury, either drunk or sober, he +frequently beat her, so that the people of the house had to send +them away. Where they had moved to, I failed to find out, but +they had vanished! + +Fourteen months passed, and one bitterly cold day in February at +the end of a long row of prisoners, waiting their turn to appear +before the magistrate, stood the woman wretched and ill, with a +puling bit of mortality in her arms. + +She was a "day charge," having been arrested for stealing a pot +of condensed milk. At length she stood before the magistrate, +and the evidence was given that she was seen to take the milk and +hurry away. She was arrested with the milk on her. + +It was believed that she had taken milk from the same place at +other times. When asked what she had to say in extenuation, she +held her child up and said, "I did not take it for myself, I took +it for this!" She did not call it her child. The magistrate +looked, shuddered, and sentenced her to one day. + +So once again I stood face to face with her, and face to face +with a big man who had been waiting for her, who insolently asked +me what I wanted with his wife. I turned from him to the woman, +and asked if she would leave him, for if so I would provide for +her. + +Mournfully she shook her head; leave him, no!--to the bitter end +she stood by him. + +So they passed from my view, the educated brute and the +despairing, battered, faithful drudge of a woman, to migrate from +lodging-house to lodging-house, to suffer and to die! + +If all the girls of England could see what I have seen, if they +could take, as I have taken, some measure of the keen anguish and +sorrow that comes from such a step, they would never try the +dangerous experiment of marrying a man in the hope of reforming +him. Should, perchance, young women read this story, let me tell +them it is true in every particular, but not the whole truth, for +there are some things that cannot be told. + +Again and again I have heard poor stricken women cry: "How can +you! how can you!" More than once my manhood has been roused, +and I have struck a blow in their defence. + +If there is one piece of advice that, in the light of my +experience, I would like to burn into the very consciousness of +young women, it is this: if they have fastened their heart's +love about a man, and find that thorough respect does not go with +that love, then, at whatever cost, let them crush that love as +they would crush a serpent's egg. + +And the same holds good with men: I have known men in moments of +passion marry young women, trusting that a good home and an +assured income would restore them to decency and womanhood--but +in vain! I saw a foul-looking woman far from old sent again to +prison, where she had been more than a hundred times. She had +also served two years in an inebriate reformatory. Fifteen years +ago, when I first met her, she was a fair-looking young woman. +Needless to say, I met her in the police-court. A short time +afterwards she came to tell me that she was married. She had a +good home, her husband was in good circumstances, and knew of her +life. A few years of home life, two little children to call her +mother; then back to her sensual ways. Prisons, rescue homes, +workhouses, inebriate reformatories, all have failed to reclaim +her, and she lives to spread moral corruption. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BRAINS IN THE UNDERWORLD + +I hope that, in some of my chapters, I have made it clear that a +large proportion of the underworld people are industrious and +persevering. I want in this chapter to show that many of them +have also ability and brains, gifts and graces. This is a +pleasant theme, and I would revel in it, but for the sorrowful +side of it. + +It may seem strange that people living under their conditions +should possess these qualities, but in reality there is nothing +strange about it, for Nature laughs at us, and bestows her gifts +upon whom she pleases, though I have no doubt that she works to +law and order if we only understood. + +But we do not understand, and therefore she appears whimsical and +capricious. I rather expect that even when eugenists get their +way and the human race is born to order, that Dame Nature, the +mother of us all, will not consent to be left out of the +reckoning. Be that as it may, it is certain she bestows her +personal gifts among the very poor equally with the rich. She is +a true socialist, and, like Santa Claus, she visits the homes of +the very poor and bestows gifts upon their children. + +Some of the most perfect ladies I have ever met have been +uneducated women living in poverty and gloom. I do not say the +most beautiful, for suffering and poverty are never beautiful. +Neither can rings of care beneath the eyes, and countless furrows +upon the face be considered beautiful. But, apart from this, I +have found many personal graces and the perfection of behaviour +among some of the poorest. All this I consider more wonderful +than the possession of brains, though of brains they are by no +means deficient. + +Have you ever noticed how pretty the healthy children of the very +poor are? I am not speaking of unhealthy and feeble children, +who are all too numerous, but of the healthy; for, strange as it +may appear, there are many such, even in the underworld. Where +do you find such beautiful curly hair as they possess? in very +few places! It is perfect in its freedom, texture, colour and +curl. Dame Nature has not forgotten them! Where do you find +prettier faces, more sparkling eyes and eager expressions? +Nowhere! And though their faces become prematurely old, and +their eyes become hard, still Dame Nature had not forgotten them +at birth; she, at any rate, had done her best for them. + +Search any families, bring out the hundreds of pretty children, +and I will bring hundreds of children from below the line that +will compare with them in beauty of body, face and hair. But +they must be under four years of age! No! no! the children of +the upperworld have not a monopoly of Dame Nature's gifts. + +And it is so with mental gifts and graces; the poor get a good +share of them, but the pity is they get so little chance of +exercising them. For many splendid qualities wither from disuse +or perish from lack of development. But some survive, as the +following stories will prove. + +It was a hot day in June, and, in company with a friend who +wished to learn something about the lives of the very poor, I was +visiting in the worst quarters of East London. + +As we moved from house to house, the thick air within, and the +dirt within and without were almost too much for us. The box- +like rooms, the horrible backyards, the grime of the men, women +and children, combined with the filth in the streets and gutters, +made us sick and faint. We asked ourselves whether it was +possible that anything decent, virtuous or intelligent could live +under such conditions? + +The "place" was dignified by the name of a street, although in +reality it was a blind alley, for a high wall closed one end of +it. It was very narrow, and while infants played in the unclean +gutters, frowsy women discussed domestic or more exciting matters +with women on the opposite side. + +They discussed us too as we passed, and audibly commented, though +not favourably, on our business. I had visited the street scores +of times, and consequently I was well known. Unfortunately my +address was also well known, for every little act of kindness +that I ventured to do in that street had been followed by a +number of letters from jealous non-recipients. + +I venture to say that from every house save one I had received +begging or unpleasant letters, for jealousy of each other's +benefits was a marked characteristic of that unclean street. As +we entered the house from which no letter had been received, we +heard a woman call to her neighbour, "They are going to see the +old shoemaker." She was correct in her surmise, and right glad +we were to make the old man's acquaintance; not that he was very +old, but then fifty-nine in a London slum may be considered old +age. He sat in a Windsor arm-chair in a very small kitchen; a +window at his back revealed that abomination of desolation, a +Bethnal Green backyard. He sat as he had sat for years, bent and +doubled up, for some kind of paralysis had overtaken him. + +He had a fine head and a pointed beard, his thin and weak neck +seemed hardly able to bear its heavy burden. He was not +overclean, and his clothes were, to say the least, shabby. But +there he sat, his wife at work to maintain him. We stood, for +there was no sitting room for us. Grime, misery and poverty were +in evidence. + +He told us that his forefathers were Huguenots, who fled from +France and settled as silk weavers in Spitalfields. He had been +apprenticed to boot- and shoe-making, his particular branch of +work having been boots and shoes for actresses and operatic +singers. That formerly he had earned good money, but the trade +declined as he had grown older, and now for some years he had +been crippled and unable to work, and dependent upon his wife, +who was a machinist. + +There did not seem much room for imagination and poetry in his +home and life, but the following conversation took place-- + +"It is a very hard life for you sitting month after month on that +chair, unable to do anything!" "It is hard, I do not know what I +should do if I could not think." "Oh, you think, do you well, +thinking is hard work." "Not to me, it is my pleasure and +occupation." "What do you think about?" "All sorts of things, +what I have read mostly." "What have you read" "Everything that +I could get hold of, novelists, poetry, history and travel." +"What novelist do you like best" The answer came prompt and +decisive: "Dickens," "Why?" "He loved the poor, he shows a +greater belief in humanity than Thackeray." "How do you prove +that?" "Well, take Thackeray's VANITY FAIR, it is clever and +satirical, but there is only one good character, and he was a +fool; but in Dickens you come across character after character +that you can't help loving." + +"Which of his books do you like best?" "A TALE OF TWO CITIES." +"Why?" "Well, because the French Revolution always appeals to +me, and secondly because I think the best bit of writing in all +his books is the description of Sydney Carton's ride on the +tumbrel to the guillotine." "Have you ever read Carlyle's FRENCH +REVOLUTION?" "No" "I will lend it to you." "If you do, I will +read it." + +"How about poetry, what poets do you like?" "The minor poets of +two hundred years ago, Herrick, Churchill, Shenstone and others." +"Why do you like them?" "They are so pretty, so easy to +understand, you know what they mean; they speak of beauty, and +flowers and love, their language is tuneful and sweet." Thus the +grimy old shoemaker spoke, but I continued: "What about the +present-day poets?" Swift came the reply, "We have got none." +This was a staggerer, but I suggested: "What about Kipling?" +"Too slangy and Coarse!" "Austin?" "Don't ask me." "What of +Wordsworth, Tennyson and Browning?" "Well, Wordsworth is too +prosy, you have to read such a lot to get a little; Tennyson is a +bit sickly and too sentimental, I mean with washy sentiment; +Browning I cannot understand, he is too hard for me." + +"Now let us talk: about dramatists; you have read Shakespeare?" +"Yes, every play again and again." "Which do you like best?" "I +like them all, the historical and the imaginative; I have never +seen one acted, but to me King Lear is his masterpiece." + +So we left him doubled up in his chair, in his grime and poverty, +lighting up his poor one room with great creations, bearing his +heavy burdens, never repining, thinking great thoughts and +re-enacting great events, for his mind to him was a kingdom. + +The next day my friend sent a dozen well-selected books, but the +old shoemaker never sought or looked for any assistance. + +Only a few doors away we happened on a slum tragedy. We stood in +a queer little house of one room up and one down stairs. Let me +picture the scene! A widow was seated at her machine sewing +white buckskin children's boots. Time, five o'clock in the +afternoon; she had sat there for many hours, and would continue +to sit till night was far advanced. + +Suddenly a girl of twelve burst in and threw herself into her +mother's arms, crying, "Oh, mother, mother, I have lost the +scholarship! Oh, mother, the French was too hard for me!" To +our surprise the mother seemed intensely relieved, and said, +"Thank God for that!" + +But the girl wept! After a time we inquired, and found that the +girl, having passed the seventh standard at an elementary school, +had been attending a higher grade school, where she had been +entered for a competitive examination at a good class secondary +school. If she obtained it, the widow would have been compelled +to sign an agreement for the girl to remain at school for at +least three years. But the widow was practically starving, +although working fourteen hours daily. Verily, the conflict of +duties forms the tragedy of everyday life. The widow was saved +by the advanced French; poor mother and poor girl! + +By and by the girl was comforted as we held the prospective of a +bright future before her, and got her to talk of her studies; she +recited for us a scene from AS YOU LIKE IT, and also Portia's +speech, "The quality of mercy is not strained." + +Standing near was a boy of not more than ten years, who looked as +if he would like to recite for us, and I asked him what standard +he was in. "The sixth, sir." "And do you like English +Literature?" He did not answer the question exactly, but said, +"I know the 'Deserted Village,' by Oliver Goldsmith." + +"Where was the 'Deserted Village'?" "Sweet Auburn was supposed +to be in Ireland, but it is thought that some of the scenes are +taken from English villages." + +"Can you give us the 'Village Schoolmaster'?" And he did, with +point and emphasis. "Now for the 'Village Parson.'" His memory +did not fail or trip, and the widow sat there machining; so we +turned to her for more information, and found that she was a +Leicester woman, and her parents Scots; she had been a boot +machinist from her youth. + +Her husband was a "clicker" from Stafford; he had been dead eight +years. She was left with four children. She had another +daughter of fourteen who had done brilliantly at school, having +obtained many distinctions, and at twelve years had passed her +"Oxford Local." This girl had picked up typewriting herself, and +as she was good at figures and a splendid writer, she obtained a +junior clerk's place in the City at seven shillings and sixpence +per week. Every day this girl walked to and from her business, +and every day the poor widow managed to find her fourpence that +the girl might have a lunch in London City. + +I felt interested in this girl, so I wrote asking her to come to +lunch with me on a certain day. She came with a book in her +hand, one of George Eliot's, one of her many prizes. A fourpenny +lunch may be conducive to high thinking, may even lead to an +appreciation of great novels: it certainly leaves plenty of time +for the improvement of the mind, though it does not do much for +nourishing the body. I found her exceedingly interesting and +intelligent, with some knowledge of "political economy," well up +in advanced arithmetic, and quite capable of discussing the books +she had read. Yet the family had been born in an apology of a +house, they had graduated in the slums, but not in the gutter. +Their widowed mother had worked interminable hours and starved as +she worked, but no attendance officer had ever been required to +compel her children to school. It would have taken force to keep +them away. But what of their future? Who can say? But of one +thing I am very sure, and it is this: that, given fair +opportunity, the whole family will adorn any station of life that +they may be called to fill. + +But will they have that opportunity? Well, the friend that was +with me says they will, and he has commissioned me to act for +him, promising me that if I am taken first and he is left, the +cultured family of the slums shall not go uncared for. And +amidst the sordid life of our mean streets, there are numbers of +brilliant children whose God-given talents not only run to waste, +but are actually turned into evil for lack of opportunity. + +Here and there one and another rise superior to their +environment, and with splendid perseverance fight their way to +higher and better life. And some of them rise to eminence, for +genius is not rare even in Slumdom. + +One of our greatest artists, lately dead, whose work all +civilisation delights to honour, played in a slum gutter, and +climbed a lamp-post that he might get a furtive look into a +school of art. + +All honour and good wishes to the rising young, but all glory to +the half-starved widows who shape their characters and form their +tastes. To the old shoemaker good wishes; may the small pension +that a friend of mine has settled on him add to his comfort and +his health, may his beloved minor poets with Dickens and +Shakespeare long be dear to him, and may his poor little home +long continue to be peopled with bright creations that defy the +almost omnipotent power of the underworld. + +If any who may read these words would like to do a kind action +that will not be void of good results and sure reward, I would +say lend a helping hand to some poor family where, in spite of +their poverty and surroundings, the children are clean and +intelligent, and have made progress at school. For they are just +needing a hand, it may be to help with their education, or it may +be to give them a suitable start in life. If the mother happens +to be a widow, you cannot do wrong. + +If one half of the money that is spent trying to help unhelpable +people was spent in helping the kind of families I refer to in +the manner I describe, the results would be surprising. + +If there is any difficulty in finding such families, I would say +apply to the head mistress or master of a big school in a poor +neighbourhood, they can find them for you. If they cannot, why +then I will from among my self-supporting widow friends. + +But do not, I beseech you, apply to the clergyman of the parish, +for he will naturally select some poor family to whom he has +charitably acted the part of relieving officer. Remember it is +brains and grit that you are in search of, and not poor people +only. + +If in every neighbourhood a few people would band themselves +together for this purpose and spend money for this one charitable +purpose, it would of itself, and in reasonable time, effect +mighty results. Believe me, there is plenty of brain power and +grit in the underworld that never gets a chance of developing in +a useful direction. Boys and girls possessing such talents are +doomed, unless a miracle happens, for they have to start in life +anyhow and anywhere. + +Nothing is of more importance than a correct start in life for +any boy or girl; but a false start, a bad beginning for the +children of the very poor who happen to possess brain power is +fatal. Their talents get no chance, for they are never used, +consequently they atrophy, or, worse still, are used in a wrong +direction and possibly for evil. Good is changed into evil, +bright and useful life is frustrated, and the State loses the +useful power and influence that should result from brains and +grit. + +How can my widow friends, who are unceasingly at work, have +either the time, opportunity or knowledge to find proper openings +for their children? The few shillings that a boy or girl can +earn at anything, or anyhow that is honest, are a great +temptation. The commencement dominates the future! Prospective +advantage must needs give place to present requirements. + +So we all lose! The upperworld loses the children's gifts, +character and service. The underworld retains their poor service +for life. + +"It is better," said Milton, "to kill a man than a book." Which +may be true, but probably the truth depends upon the quality of +the man and the book. But what about killing mind, soul, heart, +aspirations and every quality that goes to make up a man? "Their +angels do always behold the face of my Father"; yes, but we +compel them to withdraw that gaze, and look contentedly into the +face of evil. + +I am now pleading for the gifted boys and girls of the +underworld, not the weaklings, for of them I speak elsewhere. +But I will say, that while the weaklings are the more hopeless, +it is the talented that are the most dangerous. Let us see to it +that their powers have some chance of developing in a right +direction. When by some extraordinary concurrence of +circumstances a Council School boy passes on to a university and +takes a good degree, it is chronicled all over the world; the +school, the teacher, the boy and his parents are all held up for +show and admiration. I declare it makes me ill! Why? Because I +know that in the underworld thousands of men are grubbing, +burrowing and grovelling who, as boys, possessed phenomenal +abilities, but whose parents were poor, so poor that their gifted +children had no chance of developing the talent that was in them. +Let us give them a chance! Sometimes here and there one and +another bursts his bonds, and, rejoicing in his freedom, does +brilliant things. But in spite of Samuel Smiles and his self- +help they are but few, though, if the centuries are searched, the +catalogue will be impressive enough. + +Of course there must be self-help. But there must be opportunity +also. There is a great deal of talk about the children of the +poor being "over-educated," and the delinquencies of the youthful +poor are attributed to this bogy. It is because they are under- +educated, not over-educated, that the children of the very poor +so often go wrong. + +But the attempt to cast them all in the same mould is disastrous; +there is an over-education going on in this direction. Not all +the children of the poor can be great scholars, but some of them +can! Let us give them a chance. Not all of them can be +scientists and engineers, etc., but some of them have talents for +such things! Give them a chance! A good many of them have +unmistakably artistic gifts! Why not give them a chance too! +And the mechanically inclined should have a chance! Why can we +not differentiate according to their tastes and gifts? + +For even then we shall have enough left to be our hewers of wood +and carriers of water; an abundance will remain to do all the +work that requires neither brains nor gifts. + +But let us stop at once and for ever trying to cram thick heads +and poor brains with stuff that cannot possibly be appreciated or +understood. Let us teach their mechanical fingers to do +something useful, and give them, even the degenerates, some +chance! + +And we must stop our blind alley occupation for growing lads, for +at the end of the alley stands an open door to the netherworld, +and through it youthful life passes with little prospect of +return. + + + +CHAPTER X + +PLAY IN THE UNDERWORLD + +It may seem a strange thing, but children do play in the +underworld. They have their own games and their times and +seasons too! + +Yet no one can watch them as they play without experiencing +feelings more or less pathetic. There is something incongruous +about it that may cause a smile, but there is also something that +will probably cause a tear. + +For their playgrounds are the gutters or the pavements. Happy +are the children when they can procure a spacious pavement, for +in the underworld wide pavements are scarce; still narrow +pavements and gutters are always to hand. + +It is summer time, the holidays have come! No longer the hum, +babble and shouts of children are heard in and around those huge +buildings, the County Council schools. + +The sun pours its rays into the unclean streets, the thermometer +registers eighty in the shade. Down from the top storey and +other storeys of the blocks the children come, happy in the +consciousness that for one month at least they will be free from +school, without dodging the school attendance officer. + +"Hop-scotch" season has commenced, and as if by magic the +pavements of the narrow streets are covered with chalked lines, +geometrical figures and numerals, and the mysterious word "tod" +confronts you, stares at you, and puzzles you. + +Who can understand the intricacies of "hop-scotch" or the +fascination of "tod"? None but the girls of the underworld. +Simple pleasures please them--a level pavement, a piece of chalk, +a "pitcher," the sun overhead, dirt around, a few companions and +non-troublesome babies, are their chief requirements; for few of +these girls come out to play without the eternal baby. + +Notice first, if you will, how deftly these foster-mothers handle +the babies; their very method tells of long-continued practice. +What slaves these girls are! But they have brought the baby's +feeding-bottle, and also that other fearsome indispensable of +underworld infant life, "the comforter." + +They are going to make a day of it, a mad and merry day, for they +have with them some pieces of bread and margarine to sustain them +in the toil of nursing and the exhaustion of "hop-scotch." + +The "pitcher" is produced, and we notice how punctiliously each +girl takes her proper turn and starts from the correct place; we +notice also the dilapidated condition of their boots, that act as +golf clubs and propel the "pitcher." We wonder how with such +boots, curled and twisted to every conceivable shape, they can +strike the "pitcher" at all. There is some skill in "hop-scotch" +played as these girls play it, and with their "boots" too! + +A one-legged game is "hop-scotch," for the left foot must be held +clear of the pavement, and the "pitcher" must be propelled with +the right foot as the girl "hops." + +If she hops too high and misses it, she is "out"; if she strikes +too hard, and it travels beyond one of the boundaries, she is +"out" too; if she does not propel it far enough, again "out." + +Why, of course there is skill and fascination in it, for it +combines the virtues of golf and baseball, and "tod" is quite as +good as a football goal. And there is good fellowship and self- +denial going on, too; not quite every girl, thank Heaven, is +hampered or blessed with a baby, and we notice how cheerfully +they take their turn in nursing while the foster-mother arrives +at "tod." + +The substitute, too, understands the use of the "comforter," for +should it roll in the dirty gutter she promptly returns it to its +proper place, the baby's mouth. Untidy, slatternly girls, not +over-clean, not over-dressed, and certainly not over-fed, we +leave them to their play and their babies. + +Here are a lot of half-naked boys, some standing, some sitting on +the hot pavement; they are playing "cherry hog"; why "hog" I +don't know! Their requisites are a pocketful of cherry stones +and a small screw, not an expensive outfit, for they save the +"hogs" when they are permitted to eat cherries, as sometimes, by +the indulgence of a kindly fruiterer, they are, for he kindly +throws all his rotten or unsaleable fruit into the gutter. + +If these are not to hand, there are plenty of "hogs" to be picked +up. As to the little screw, well, it is easy to get one or steal +one. + +The advantage of a screw is that it possesses a flat end, on +which it will stand erect. In this position it is delicately +placed so that when struck by a cherry "hog" it falls. Each boy +in turn throws a certain number of "hogs" at the screw, the +successful thrower gathers in the spoil and goes home with his +pocket bursting with cherry "hogs." + +It's an exciting game, but it is gambling nevertheless; why do +not the police interfere? + +Here are some boys playing "buttons"--gambling again! This game +is good practice, too, and a capital introduction to that famous +game of youthful capitalists, "pitch and toss," for it is played +in precisely the same way, only that buttons take the place of +half-pennies. + +The road, gutter or pavement will do for "buttons"; a small mark +or "jack" is agreed upon, a line is drawn at a certain distance; +alternately the lads pitch their buttons towards the "jack," +three buttons each. When all have "pitched," the boy whose +button is nearest the "jack" has first toss, that is, he collects +all the pitched buttons in his hand and tosses them; as the +buttons lie again on the ground the lads eagerly scan them, for +the buttons that lie with their convex side upwards are the spoil +of the first "tosser." The remaining buttons are collected by +the second, who tosses, and then collects his spoil, and so on +till the buttons are all lost and won. The boy whose buttons are +farthest from "jack" of course gets the last and least +opportunity. When playing for halfpence, "heads or tails" is the +deciding factor. + +Why, you say, of course it is a game of skill, just as much as +bowls or quoits; but there are also elements of luck about "pitch +and toss" which gives it an increased attraction. + +Sunday in the underworld is the great day for "pitch and toss," +for many boys have halfpence on that day. They have been at work +during the week, and, having commenced work, their Sunday-school +days are at an end. And having a few halfpence they can indulge +their long-continued and fervent hope of discarding "buttons" and +playing the man by using halfpence. + +But how they enjoy it! how intent they are upon it. Sunday +morning will turn to midday, and midday to evening before they +are tired of it! Meal times, or the substitute for meal times, +pass, and they remain at it! always supposing their halfpence +last, and the police do not interfere, the latter being the most +likely. + +It takes an interminably long time to dispossess a lad of six +halfpence at this game; fortune is not so fickle as may be +supposed. The unskilled "pitcher" may have luck in "tossing," +while the successful "pitcher" may be an unlucky "tosser." If at +the end of a long day they come off pretty equal, they have had +an ideal day. + +But they have had their ups and downs, their alternations of joy +and despair. Sometimes a boy may win a penny; if so, it is +evident that another boy has lost one, and this is sad, though I +expect they lose more coppers to the police than they do to their +companions, for the police harry them and hunt them. Special +constables are put on to detect them, and they know the favourite +resorts of the incipient gamblers. They hunt in couples, too, +and they enter the little unclean street at each end. + +Now for the supreme excitement; they are observed by the watchful +eye of a non-player, who is copperless. There is a rush for the +halfpence, some of which the non-player secures. There's a +scamper, but there is no escape; the police bag them, and +innocent boys who join in the scamper are bagged too. The police +search the ground for halfpence, find a few which they carefully +pack in paper, that they may retain some signs of dirt upon them, +for this will be invaluable legal evidence on the morrow. There +is a procession of police, prisoners and gleeful lads who are not +in custody to the nearest police-station. + +On Monday they stand in the dock, when the police with the +halfpence and the dirt still upon them give evidence against +them. + +One worthy magistrate will ask them why they were not at home or +school. Another will sternly admonish them upon the evils of +street gambling. A third will tell them that it would have paid +them better in health and pocket to have taken a country walk. +But all agree on one point, "that this street gambling must be +put down," and they "put it down," or attempt to do so, by fining +the young ragamuffins five shillings each. + +The excitement of the cells then awaits them, to be followed by a +free ride in "Black Maria," unless "muvver" can pawn something +and raise the money, But many mothers cannot do this, others do +not trouble; as to "farver," well, he does not come in at all, +unless it is to give a "licking" to the boy when he comes out of +prison for losing his job and his wages. + +Truly, the play of the underworld children is exciting enough: +there is danger attaching to it; perhaps that gives a piquancy to +it. + +The fascination of "pitch and toss" is felt not only all over +England, where it holds undisputed sway, for it has no real +rival, but in America too! Whilst in America last summer I +explored the mean streets of New York, and not far from the +Bowery I found lots of lads at the game. It was Sunday morning, +too, and having some "nickels," I played several games with them. +I was but a poor pitcher, the coins were too light for me-- +perhaps I could do better with solid English pennies--but what I +lost in pitching I gained in tossing, so I was not ruined, +neither did the Bowery lads sustain any loss. + +But I found the procedure exactly the same as in England, and I +felt the fascination of it; and some day when I can afford it, I +will have a lot of metal counters made, and I will organise lads +into a club; I will give them "caps," and they shall play where +the police won't interfere. + +I will give them trophies to contend for, and Bethnal Green shall +contend with Holloway; a halfpenny "gate" would bring its +thousands, and private gain would give place to club and district +"esprit de corps," for the lads want the game, not the money; the +excitement, not the halfpence. There is nothing intrinsically +wrong about "pitch and toss," only the fact that ragamuffins play +it. + +There is a great deal of nonsense talked about the game by +superior people who pose as authorities upon the delinquencies of +ragamuffin youth, and who declaim upon the demoralisation +attending this popular game of poor lads. + +I heard at a meeting of a rich Christian Church, held in a noble +hall in the heart of London's City, one gentleman declare that a +smart ragamuffin youth of his acquaintance possessed a penny with +a "head" on each side for the purpose of enabling him to cheat at +this game. + +He did not know what he was talking about, for such pennies would +be as useless for this game as the stones in the streets, for +"heads and tails" are the essence of the game. The boys of the +underworld must play, and ought to play; if those above them do +not approve of their games, well, it is "up to them," as the +Americans have it, to find them better games than pitch and toss, +and better playing grounds than unclean streets. + +Of public parks we have enough; they are very well for sedate and +elderly people. They are useful to foster-mothers, slave girls +hugging babies about, and a boon for nurses with perambulators. +But what of Tom, Dick and Harry, who have just commenced work; +what of them? "Boy Scouting," even with royal patronage, is not +for them, for they have no money to buy uniforms, nor time to +scour Epping Forest and Hampstead Heath for a non-existent enemy. + +Church Lads' Brigade with bishops for patrons, did I hear some +one say? Well, blowing a bugle, no matter how discordantly, is +certainly an attraction for a boy; and wearing a military cap set +jauntily on one side of the head is attractive, too, while the +dragging of a make-believe cannon through the streets may perhaps +please others. But Tom, Dick and Harry from below care for none +of these things, for they are "make-believes," and Tom, Dick and +Harry want something real, even if it is vulgar, something with a +strong competitive element in it, even if it is a little bit +rough or wicked. + +Besides Tom, Dick and Harry are not over-clean in person, nor +nice in speech, so they are not wanted. Boy Scouts and Boys' +Brigades are preached at, but Tom, Dick and Harry do not want to +be preached at by a parson, or coddled by a curate. + +They want something real, even though it be punching each other's +head, for that at any rate is real. Give us play, play, real +play! is the cry that is everlastingly rising from the +underworld youth. But the overworld gives them parks and +gardens, which are closed at a respectable hour. But the lads do +not go to bed at respectable hours, for their mothers are still +at work and their fathers have not arrived home. So they play in +the streets; then we call them "hooligans," and of course they +must be "put down." + +There is a good deal of "putting down" for the underworld, but it +is all of the wrong sort. For there is no putting down of public +playgrounds for lads of fifteen and upwards open in the evening, +lighted by electricity, and under proper control. Not one in the +whole underworld. So they play in the streets, or rather indulge +in what is called "horse-play." + +But there are youths' clubs! Yes, a few mostly in pokey places, +yet they are useful. But Tom, Dick and Harry want space, room +and air, for they get precious little of these valuable +commodities at their work, and still less in their homes. Watch +them if you will, as I have watched them scores of times in the +streets, how foolish, yet how pitiable their conduct is; you will +see that they walk for about two hundred yards and then walk back +again, and then repeat the same walk, till the hours have passed; +they seem to be as circumscribed as caged animals. They walk +within bounds up and down the "monkey's parade." + +How inane and silly their conversation is! Sometimes a whim +comes upon them, and one runs for a few yards; the whim takes +possession of others, and they do exactly the same. One seizes +another round the body and wrestles with him. Immediately the +others begin to wrestle too; their actions are stereotyped, silly +and objectionable, even when they do not quarrel. + +They bump against the people, women included, especially young +women. They push respectable people into the gutters, and +respectable people complain to the police. An extra force is +told off to keep order, and to put Tom, Dick and Harry down. + +Sunday night is the worst night of all! for now these youths are +out in their thousands; certain streets are given up to them, and +become impassable for others. Respectable folk are shocked, and +church-going folk are scandalised! Surely the streets are the +property of respectable people! and yet they cannot pass through +them without annoyance. + +At length the street is cleared and patrolled, for respectability +must be protected, not that there has been either violence or +robbery. Oh dear, no! There has only been foolish horse-play by +the Toms, Dicks and Harrys who, having nowhere else to go, and +nothing else to do, having, moreover, been joined by their female +counterparts, have been enjoying themselves in their own way, for +they have been "at play." + +It is astonishing how fond of water the unwashed children of the +underworld are! It has an attraction for them, often a fatal +attraction, even though it be thick with dirt and very +malodorous. During the summer time the boys' bathing lakes in +Victoria Park are crowded and alive with youngsters, who splash +and flounder and choke, splutter and laugh in them. They present +a sight worth seeing, and teach a lesson worth remembering. + +The canals of Hoxton, Haggerston and Islington, too, dirty and +dangerous as they are, prove seductive to the boys who live close +to them. Now the police have an anxious time. Again they must +look after Tom, Dick and Harry, for demure respectability must +not be outraged by a sight of their naked bodies. + +So the police keep a sharp outlook for them. Some one kindly +informs them that a dozen boys are bathing in the canal near a +certain bridge, and quickly enough they find them in the very +act. There the little savages are! Some can swim, and some +cannot; those that cannot are standing in the slime near the +side, stirring up its nastiness. They see the policeman +advancing, and those that can swim get ashore and run for their +little bits of clothing, tied up in a bundle ready for +emergencies. Into the water again they go for the other side! +But, alas! another policeman is waiting on the other side at the +place where they expected to land, so they must needs swim till +another landing place offers security. But even here they find +that escape is hopeless, for yet another policeman awaits them. + +Those who cannot swim seize their bundles, and, without waiting +to dress, run naked and unashamed along the canal, side, to the +merriment of the bargees, and the joy of the women and girls who +happen to have no son or brother amongst them, for the underworld +is not so easily shocked as the law and its administrators +imagine. + +Ultimately they, too, find a policeman waiting for them, and a +"good bag" results. But the magistrate is very lenient; with a +twinkle in his eye he reproves them, and fines them one shilling +each, which with great difficulty their "muvvers" pay. + +But it has been a good day for the police, for four of them have +helped to convey six shillings from the wretchedly poor to the +coffers of the police-court receiver. But when the school +holidays come round, that is the time for the dirty canal to tell +its tale, and to give up its dead, too! + +Read this from the Daily Press, July 16th, 1911-- + +"A remarkable record in life-saving was disclosed at a Bethnal +Green inquest to-day on a child of six, named Browning, who was +drowned in the Regent's Canal on Bank Holiday. + +"Henry H. Terry, an out-of-work carman, said he was called from +his home near by, and raced down to the canal. There was a youth +on the bank holding a stick over the water, apparently waiting +for the child to come up to the surface. + +"The coroner: 'How old was the youth?' 'Well, he stood five feet +six inches, and might have gone in without getting out of his +depth. I heard a woman cry, "Why don't you go in!" I dived in +five or six times, but did not bring up the body.' The witness +added that he and his brother had saved many lives at this spot, +the latter having effected as many as twenty-five rescues in a +year. Alfred Terry, a silk weaver, described the point at which +the child was drowned as a veritable death-trap, and mentioned +that he had been instrumental during the past twelve years in +saving considerably over one hundred lives at that spot. + +"'One hot July afternoon in 1900,' he added,'my mother and I had +five of them in the kitchen at one time with a roaring fire to +bring them round. That was during the school holidays; they +dropped in like flies.' + +"Accidental death was the verdict." + +But when the little ones play in the gutter, danger lurks very +near, as witness the extract of the same date-- + +"At an inquest at the Poplar coroner's court to-day, on a three- +years'-old girl named Bertiola, it was stated that while playing +with other children she was struck on the head with a tin engine. +Three weeks later she was playing with the same children, and one +of them hit her on the head with the wooden horse. + +"The coroner: 'Two similar blows in a few days, that is very +strange.' + +"Dr. Packer said that death was due to cerebral meningitis, the +result of a blow on the head. + +"The coroner: 'I suppose you can't tell which blow caused the +trouble' 'No, sir, I am afraid not.' + +"The jury returned a verdict of accidental death." + +But sometimes the boys and girls of the underworld collaborate in +their play, for just now (July) "Remember the grotto! please to +remember the grotto!" is a popular cry. Who has not seen the +London grottos he who knows them not, knows nothing of the London +poor. + +I was watching some girls play "hop-scotch" when a boy and girl +with oyster shells in their hands came up to me preferring the +usual request, "Please to remember the grotto!" Holding out +their shells as they spoke. + +"Where is your grotto?" I said. "There, sir, over there; come +and see it." Aye! there is was, sure enough, and a pretty +little thing it was in its way, built up to the wall in a quiet +corner, glistening with its oyster shells, its bits of coloured +china and surmounted with a little flag. + +"But where are the candles?" "Oh, sir, we haven't got any yet; +we shall get candles when we get some money, and light them to- +night; we have only just finished it." "Where did you get your +shells?" "From the fish-shops." "Where did you get the pretty +bits of china from?" "We saved them from last year." "Does +grotto time come the same time every year,then" "Oh yes, sir." +"How is that?" "'Cos it's the time for it." "Why do you build +grottos" "To get money." "Yes, but why do people give you +money; what do grottos commemorate, don't you know?" "No, sir." + +I looked at a poor half-paralysed boy with sharp face and said, +"Well, my boy, you ought to know; do you go to Sunday School?" +"Yes, sir, both of us; St. James the Less." "Well, I shall not +tell you the whole story to-day, but here is sixpence for you to +buy candles with; and next Sunday ask your teacher to tell you +why boys and girls build grottos; I shall be here this day week, +and if you can tell me I will give you a shilling." + +There were at least six grottos in that street when I got there +on the appointed day. A large crowd of children with oyster +shells were waiting; evidently the given sixpence and the +promised shilling had created some excitement in that corner of +Bethnal Green, + +They were soon all round me, and a general chorus arose with +hands outstretched, "Please to remember the grotto! please to +remember the grotto! "I called them to silence, and said, "Can +any one tell me why you build grottos?" There was a general +chorus, "To get money, sir." That was all they knew, and it +seemed to them a sufficient reason. + +Turning to the little cripple, I said, "Did you ask your +teacher?" "Yes, sir, but she said it was only children's play; +but I bought some candles, and they are lighted now." + +I said, "Now, children, listen to me, for I am going to tell you +about the beginning of grottos. + +"A good many hundred years ago, when Jesus was on earth, He had +two disciples named James; in after years one was called 'James +the Greater' and the other 'James the Less.' After the death of +Jesus, James the Greater was put to death, and the disciples were +scattered, and wandered into many far countries. James the Less +wandered into Spain, telling the people about Jesus. He lived a +good and holy life, helping the poor and the afflicted. + +"When he died, the people who loved him and reverenced him made a +great funeral, and built him a costly tomb, but instead of +putting up a monument to him, they built a large and beautiful +grotto over the place where his body lay. They lined it with +beautiful and costly shells and other rich things, and lit it +with many candles. + +"Thousands of people came to see the grotto, and gave money to +buy candles that it might always be lighted. + +"Every year, on the anniversary of St. James's death, the people +came by thousands to the grotto. One year it was said that a +crippled man had been made quite well while praying at the +grotto. This event was told everywhere, and from that day forth +on St. James's Day people came from many countries, many of them +walking hundreds of miles to the grotto. + +"Some of these people were ill and diseased, and others were sick +and blind, and some were cripples. + +"It is said that a good many of them were cured of their +afflictions. + +"Now all these poor people that walked slowly and painfully to +St. James's tomb carried big oyster shells, in which they made +holes for cords to pass through, and they placed the cords round +their necks. + +"When they came near to people they would hold out their shells +and say, 'Please to remember the grotto!' And people gave them +money to help them on their way and to buy candles for the +grotto, hoping that the poor people would get there safely and +come back cured. + +So it came to pass that whenever people saw a man with an oyster +shell, they knew he was going or returning from St. James's tomb +in Spain, and they helped him. The custom of building grottos on +St. James's Day spread to many countries besides Spain. In +Russia they build very fine grottos. At length the custom came +to England, and you boys and girls do what other boys and girls +have done for many years in other countries, and in reality you +celebrate the death of a great and good man." + +The children were very silent for a while; the cripple boy looked +at me with tears in his eyes, and I knew what his tears +expressed. I gave him a shilling, but he did not speak; to all +the other children who had built grottos I gave threepence each, +and there was joy in that corner of Bethnal Green. + +There is always something pathetic about play in the underworld. +We feel that there is something wanting in it, perhaps that +something would come into it, if there were more opportunities of +real and competitive play. Keeping shops, or teaching schools +may do for girls to play at, but a lad, if he is any good, wants +something more robust. + +I often find cripple boys playing "tip-cat," another game upon +which the law has its eye, or hurrying along on crutches after +something that serves as a football, and getting there in time, +too, for a puny kick. But that kick, little as it is, thrills +the poor chap, and he feels that he has been playing. I am sure +that football is going to play a great part in the physical +salvation of Tom, Dick and Harry, but they must have other places +than the streets in which to learn and practise the game. + +We have heard a great deal about the playing-fields of public +schools; we are told that we owe our national safety to them; +perhaps it is correct, but I really do not know. But this I do +know, that the non-provision of playing-fields, or grounds for +the male youthful poor, is a national danger and a menace to +activity, endurance, health and pluck. + +Nothing saves them now but the freehold of the streets. Rob them +of this without giving them something better, and we shall +speedily have a race of flat-footed, flat-chested, round- +shouldered poor, with no brains for mental work, and no strength +for physical work. A race exactly qualified for the conditions +to which we so freely submit it in prison. And above those +conditions that race will have no aspirations. So give them +play, glorious play, manly strife; let their hearts beat, and +their chests expand that they may breathe from their bottom +lungs, that their limbs may be supple and strong, for it will pay +the nation to give Tom, Dick and Harry healthy play. + +And they long for it, do Tom, Dick and Harry! Did you ever see +hundreds of them on a Sunday morning coming up from their lairs +in Hoxton, Shoreditch, Spitalfields and Bethnal Green, to find a +field or open space in the suburbs where they might kick a +football? I have seen it scores of times. A miserable but +hopeful sight it is; hopeful because it bears testimony to the +ingrained desire that English lads have for active healthy play. +Miserable because of their appearance, and because of the fact +that no matter what piece of open ground or fields they may +select, they are trespassers, and may be ejected, or remain on +sufferance only. + +Happy are they if they can find a piece of land marked for sale, +where the jerry-builder has not yet commenced a suburban slum. +Like a swarm of locusts they are down on it, and quickly every +blade of grass disappears, "kicked off" as if by magic. + +Old walking-sticks, pieces of lath or old coats and waistcoats +serve as goal-posts. Touch-lines they have none, one playing- +ground runs across the other, and a dozen teams are soon hard at +it. They have no caps to distinguish them, no jerseys or +knickers of bright hues. There are no "flannelled fools" among +them, but quickly there are plenty of "muddied oafs." Trousers +much too long are rolled up, coats and vests are dispensed with, +braces are loosed and serve as belts. There is running to and +fro, mud, and poor old footballs are kicked hither and thither. +They knock, kick and shoulder each other, their bare arms and +faces are coated with mud, they fall over the ball and over each +other. If they cannot kick their own ball, they kick one that +belongs to another team. There is much shouting, much laughter +and some bad language! and so they go at it till presently there +is a great cheer, for Hoxton has got a second goal, and +Haggerston is defeated. And they keep at it for two long hours, +if they are not interfered with, then back to their lairs and +food. + +All this time good people have been in the churches close by, and +the shouting of the Hoxtonians has disturbed them, and the gentle +whisper of the Haggerstonians has annoyed them. Some of them are +scandalised, and say the police ought to stop such nuisances; +perhaps they are right, for there is much to be said against it. +But there is something to be said on the other side, too; for the +natural instinct of English boys must have an outlet or perish. +If it perish they perish too, and then old England would miss +them. + +So let them play, but give them playgrounds! For playgrounds +will pay better than nice, respectable parks. The outlay will be +returned in due time in a big interest promptly paid from the +increased vitality, energy, industry and honesty of our Toms, +Dicks and Harrys. So let them play! + +With much pleasure I quote from the Daily Press, November 24th, +the following-- + +"LEARNING TO PLAY + +"ORGANISED GAMES IN HYDE PARK IN SCHOOL HOURS + +"It is good news that arrangements are being made by the Office +of Works for the use of a part of Hyde Park for organised games +under the direction of the London County Council. Hitherto the +only royal parks in which space has been allotted for this +purpose are Regent's Park and Greenwich Park. But the King, as +is well known, takes a keen interest in all that concerns the +welfare of the children, and has gladly sanctioned the +innovation. + +"During the year an increasing number of the elementary schools +in London have taken advantage of the article in the code of +regulations which provides that, under certain conditions, +organised games may, if conducted under competent supervision and +instruction, be played during school hours. Up to the present +the London County Council has authorised the introduction of +organised games by 580 departments, 295 boys', 225 girls', and 60 +mixed. + +"The games chiefly played by boys are football, cricket and +rounders, according to the season. Girls enjoy a greater +variety, and in addition to cricket and rounders, are initiated +into the mysteries of hockey, basket ball, target ball, and other +ball games. + +"The advantages of the children being taught to get the best +exercise out of the games, and to become skilful in them, are +obvious. + +"Arrangements have been made with the various local athletic +associations and consultative committees whereby in each +metropolitan borough there are hon. district representatives +(masters and mistresses) in connection with organised games. +Pitches are reserved in over thirty of the L.C.C. parks and open +spaces for the use of schools. The apparatus required is +generally stored at the playing-fields for the common use of all +schools attending, but small articles such as balls, bats, sticks +are supplied to each school. + +"The Council has decided that, so far as practicable, the +apparatus for organised games shall be made at the Council's +educational institutes, and, as a result of this decision, much +of it is fashioned at the handicraft centres." + +This is all for good. But I am concerned for adolescent youth +that has left school--the lads whose home conditions absolutely +prevent the evening hours being spent indoors. Is there to be no +provision for them? + + + +CHAPTER XI + +ON THE VERGE OF THE UNDERWORLD + +Charles Dickens has somewhere said, "The ties that bind the rich +to their homes may be made on earth, but the ties that bind the +poor to their homes are made of truer metal and bear the stamp of +Heaven." And he adds that the wealthy may love their home +because of the gold, silver and costly things therein, or because +of the family history. But that when the poor love their homes, +it is because their household gods are gods of flesh and blood. +Dickens's testimony is surely true, for struggle, cares, +sufferings and anxieties make their poor homes, even though they +be consecrated with pure affection, "serious and solemn places." + +To me it has always been evident that the heaviest part of the +burden inseparable from a poor man's home falls upon the wife. + +Blessed is that home where the wife is equal to her duties, and +doubly blessed is the home where the husband, being a true +helpmate, is anxious to carry as much of the burden as possible. +For then the home, even though it be small and its floors brick, +becomes in all truth "a sweetly solemn place." It becomes a good +training ground for men and women that are to be. But I am +afraid the working men do not sufficiently realise what heavy, +onerous and persistent duties fall upon the wife. With nerves of +brass they do not appreciate the fact that wives may be, and are, +very differently constituted to themselves. Many wives are +lonely; but the husbands do not always understand the gloomy +imaginations that pervade the lonely hours. The physical laws +that govern women's personal health make periods of depression +and excitement not only possible, but certain. + +Let us consider for a moment the life of a poor man's wife in +London, where her difficulties are increased by high rent and a +long absence of the husband. She has the four everlasting walls +to look at, eternal anxieties as to the future, the repeated +weekly difficulties of making ends meet, and too often the same +lack of consideration from the husband. + +The week's washing for the family she must do, the mending and +darning for the household is her task, the children must be +washed and clothed and properly cared for by her. Of her many +duties there is no end. + +Sickness in the family converts her into a nurse. She herself +must bear the pangs and sufferings of motherhood, and for that +time must make preparation. For death in the family she must +also provide, so the eternities are her concern. Things present +and things to come leave her little time to contemplate the past. + +Ask me the person of many duties, and I point to the wife of a +poor man. + +Thank God, the law of compensation rules the universe, and she is +not exempt from its ruling. She has her compensations doubtless, +but I am seriously afraid not to the extent to which she is +entitled, though, perhaps, they are greater than we imagine. + +Her duties are not always pleasant, for when her husband falls +out of work the rent must be paid, or she must mollify a +disappointed landlord. In many of our London "model" dwellings, +if she is likely to have a fourth child, three being the limit, +she must seek a new home. And it ought to be known that on this +account there is a great exodus every year from some of our +London "dwellings." + +It seems scarcely credible, but it is nevertheless a fact, that +in some dwellings she may not keep a cat, a dog, or even a bird, +neither may she have flowers in pots on her window-sills. She is +hedged round with prohibitions, but she is expected to be +superior and to abide in staid respectability on an income of +less than thirty shillings per week. And she does it, though how +she does it is a marvel. + +Come with me to visit Mrs. Jones, who lives at 28, White Elephant +Buildings. Mr. Jones is a painter at work for eight months in +the year, if he has good luck, but out of work always at that +time of the year when housekeeping expenses are highest. For +every working man's wife will tell you that coal is always dearer +at the time of the year when it is most required. in White +Elephant Buildings there is no prohibition as to the number of +children, or the Jones family would not be there, for they number +eight all told. It is dinner time, and the children are all in +from school, and, being winter time, Jones is at home too! He +has been his wearying round in search of work earlier in the day, +and has just returned to share the midday meal which the mother +serves. In all conscience the meal is limited enough, but we +notice that Jones gets an undue proportion, and we wonder whether +the supply will go round. + +We see that the children are next served in their order, the +elder obtaining just a little more food than the younger, and, +last of all--Mrs. Jones. + +It is true that self-denial brings its own reward, for in her +case there is little to reward her in the shape of food. + +To me it is still astonishing, although I have known it for +years, that thousands of poor men's wives go through years of +hard work, and frequent times of motherhood on an amount of food +that must be altogether inadequate. + +Brave women! Aye, brave indeed! for they not only deny +themselves food, but clothing, and all those little personal +adornments that are so dear to the heart of women. There is no +heroism to equal it. It only ends when the children have all +passed out of hand, and then it is too late, for in her case +appetite has not been developed with eating, so that when the day +comes that food is more plentiful, the desire for it is lacking. + +It is small wonder, then, that Mrs. Jones has a careworn look, +and does not look robust. She has been married twelve years, so +that every second year she has borne a child. The dark rings +beneath her eyes tell of protracted hours of work, and the +sewing-machine underneath the window tells us that she +supplements the earnings of her husband by making old clothes +into new, and selling them to her neighbours, either for their +children's wear or their own. This accounts for the fact that +her own children are so comfortably clothed. The dinner that we +have seen disappear cost ninepence, for late last evening, just +before the cheap butchers close by shut up for the night, Mrs. +Jones bought one pound and a half of pieces, and, with the aid of +two onions and some potatoes, converted them into a nourishing +stew. + +Many times near midnight I have stood outside the cheap butchers' +and watched careful women make their purchases. It is a pitiful +sight, and when one by one the women have made their bargains, we +notice that the shopboard is depleted of its heap of scrags and +odds and ends. + +So day by day Mrs. Jones feeds her family, limiting her +expenditure to her purse. And, truth to tell, Jones and the +little Joneses look well on it. But two things in addition to +the rent test her managing powers. Boots for the children! and +coal for the winter! The latter difficulty she gets over by +paying one shilling per week into a coal club all the year +through. When Jones is in work she buys extra coal, but when the +winter comes she draws upon her reserves at the coal merchant's. + +But the boots are more difficult. To his credit let it be said +that Jones mends the family's boots. That is, he can "sole and +heel," though he cannot put on a patch or mend the uppers. But +with everlasting thought for the future, Mrs. Jones makes certain +of boots for the family. Again a "club" is requisitioned, and by +dint of rigid management two shillings weekly pass into a +shoemaker's hands, and in their turn the family gets boots; the +husband first, the children one by one, herself last--or never! + +Week by week she lives with no respite from anxiety, with no +surcease from toil. By and by the eldest boy is ready for work, +and Mrs. Jones looks forward to the few shillings he will bring +home weekly, and builds great things upon it. Alas! it is not +all profit; the boy must have a new suit, he requires more food, +and he must have a little spending money, "like other boys"; and +though he is a good lad, she finds ultimately that there is not +much left of Tom's six shillings. + +Never mind! on she goes, for will he not get a rise soon and +again expectation encourages her. + +So the poor woman, hampered as she is with present cares, looks +forward to the time when life will be a bit easier, when the +united earnings of the children will make a substantial family +income. Oh, brave woman! it is well for her to live in hope, +and every one who knows her hopes too that disappointment will +not await her, and that her many children will "turn out well." + +Mrs. Jones is typical of thousands of working men's wives, and +such women demand our admiration and respect. What matter though +some of them are a bit frowsy and not over-clean? they have +precious little time to attend to their personal adornment. I +ask, who can fulfil all their duties and remain "spick-and-span"? + +"Nagging," did I hear some one say? My friend, put yourself in +her place, and imagine whether you would remain all sweetness and +courtesy. Again I say, that I cannot for the life of me +understand how she can bear it all, suffering as she does, and +yet remain so patient and so hopeful. + +Add to the duties I have enumerated the time when sickness and +death enter the home. Mrs. Grundy has declared that even poor +people must put on "mourning," and must bury their dead with +excessive expenditure, and Mrs. Grundy must be obeyed. + +But what struggles poor wives make to do it! but a "nice" +funeral is a fascinating sight to the poor. So thousands of poor +men's wives deny themselves many comforts, and often necessaries, +that they may for certain have a few pounds, should any of their +children die. Religiously they pay a penny or twopence a week +for each of their children to some industrial insurance company +for this purpose. + +A few pounds all at once loom so large that they forget all the +toil, stress and self-denial they have undergone to keep those +pence regularly paid. Decent "mourning "and "nice funerals" are +greatly admired, for if a working man's wife accepts parish aid +at such time, why then she has fallen low indeed. + +And for the time when a new life comes into light, the poor man's +wife must make provision. At this time anxiety is piled upon +anxiety. There must be no parish doctor, no parish nurse; out of +her insufficient income she makes weekly payments to a local +dispensary that during sickness the whole household may be kept +free of doctor's bills. An increased payment for herself secures +her, when her time comes, from similar worry. But the nurse must +be paid, so during the time of her "trouble" the poor woman +screws, schemes and saves a little money; money that ought in all +truth to have been spent upon herself, that a weekly nurse may +attend her. But every child is dearer than the last, and the +wonderful love she has for every atom of humanity born to her +repays all her sufferings and self-denial. + +So I ask for the poor man's wife not only admiration and +consideration, but, if you will, some degree of pity also. I +would we could make her burdens easier, her sorrows less, and her +pleasures more numerous. Most devoutly I hope that the time may +soon arrive when "rent day" will be less dreaded, and when the +collector will be satisfied with a less proportion of the +family's earnings. For this is a great strain upon the poor +man's wife, a strain that is never absent! for through times of +poverty and sickness, child birth and child death, persistently +and inexorably that day comes round. Undergoing constant +sufferings and ceaseless anxieties, it stands to the poor man's +wife's credit that their children fight our battles, people our +colonies, uphold the credit of our nation, and perpetuate the +greatness of the greatest empire the world has ever known. + +But Mrs. Jones' eldest girl has a hard time too! for she acts as +nurse and foster-mother to the younger children. It was well for +her that Tom was born before her or she would have nursed him. +Perhaps it was well for Tom also that he got the most +nourishment. As it is the girl has her hands full, and her time +is more than fully occupied. She goes to school regularly both +Sunday and week-day. She passes all her standards, although she +is not brilliant. She washes the younger children, she nurses +the inevitable baby, she clears the "dinner things" away at +midday, and the breakfast and tea-cups in their turn. She sits +down to the machine sometimes and sews the clothing her mother +has cut out and "basted." She is still a child, but a woman +before her time, and Mrs. Jones and all the young Joneses will +miss her when she goes "out." + +When that time comes, Mrs. Jones will not be so badly put to it +as she was when Tom went "out." For she has been paying +regularly into a draper's club, and with the proceeds a quantity +of clothing material will be bought. So Sally's clothing will be +made at home, and Sally and her mother will sit up late at night +to make it. + +It is astonishing how "clubs" of all descriptions enter into the +lives of the poor. There is, of course, the "goose club" for +Christmas, for the poor make sure of one good meal during the +year. Some of them are extravagant enough to join "holiday +clubs," but this Mrs. Jones cannot afford, so her clubs are +limited to her family's necessities, excepting the money club +held at a neighbour's house into which she pays one shilling +weekly. This club consists of twenty members, who "draw" for +choice. Thus once in twenty weeks, sooner or later, Mrs. Jones +is passing rich, for she is in possession of twenty shillings all +at once. + +There is some discussion between Sally and her mother as to the +spending of it; Tom's first suit was bought by this means, and +Jones himself is not forgotten; but for Mrs. Jones no thought is +given. + +The planning, scheming and contrivance it takes to run a working +man's home, especially when the husband has irregular work, is +almost past conception, and the amount of self-denial is +extraordinary. + +But it is the wife who finds the brains and exercises the self- +denial. Her methods may be laughed at by wiser people, for there +is some wastage. The friendly club-keeper must have a profit, +and the possession of wealth represented by a whole sovereign +costs something. But when Mrs. Jones gets an early "draw," she +exchanges her "draw" for a later one, and makes some little +profit. + +Oh, the scheming and excitement of it all, for even Mrs. Jones +cannot do without her little "deal." But what will Sally settle +down to? Now comes the difficulty and deciding point in her +life, and a critical time it is. + +Mrs. Jones has not attended a mother's meeting, she has been too +busy; church has not seen much of her except at the christenings; +district visitors and clergymen have not shown much interest in +her; Jones himself is almost indifferent, and quite complacent. + +So Sally and her mother discuss the matter. The four shillings +weekly to be obtained in a neighbouring factory are tempting, but +the girls are noisy and rude; yet Sally will be at home in the +evenings and have time to help her mother, and that is tempting +too! A neighbouring blouse-maker takes girls to teach them the +trade, and Sally can machine already, so she will soon pick up +the business; that looks nice too, but she would earn nothing for +the first three months, so that is ruled out. Domestic service +is thought of, but Sally is small for her age, and only fourteen; +she does not want to be a nurse girl; she has had enough nursing- +-she has been a drudge long enough. + +So to the factory she goes, though Mrs. Jones has her misgivings, +and gives her strong injunctions to come straight home, which of +course Sally readily promises, though whether that promise will +be strictly kept is uncertain. But her four shillings are useful +in the family exchequer; they are the deciding factor in Sally's +life! + +So on through all the succeeding years of the developing family +life comes the recurring anxiety of getting her children "out." +These anxieties may be considered very small, but they are as +real, as important, and as grave as the anxieties that well-to-do +people experience in choosing callings or professions for sons +and daughters to whom they cannot leave a competency. + +And all this time the family are near, so very near to the +underworld. The death of Jones, half-timer as he is, would +plunge them into it; and the breakdown or death of Mrs. Jones +would plunge them deeper still. + +What an exciting and anxious life it really is! Small wonder +that many descend to the underworld when accident overtakes them. +But for character, grit, patience and self-denial commend me to +such women. All honour to them! may their boys do well! may +their girls in days to come have less anxieties and duties than +fall to the lot of working men's wives of to-day. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN PRISONS OFT + +If every chapter in this book is ignored, I hope that this one +will be read thoughtfully. For I want to show that a great +national wrong, a stupidly cruel wrong, exists. + +Probably all injustice is stupid, but this wrong is so foolish, +that any man who thinks for one moment upon it will wonder how it +came into existence. + +I have written and spoken about it so often that I am almost +ashamed of returning to the subject. Yet all our penal +authorities, from the Home Secretary downwards, know all there is +to be known about it. + +I am going, then, to reiterate a serious charge! It is this: no +boy from eight years of age up to sixteen, unless sound in mind +and body, can find entrance into any reformatory or industrial +school! No matter how often he falls into the hands of the +police, or what charges may be brought against him, not even if +he is friendless and homeless. Again, no youthful prisoner under +twenty-one years of age, no matter how bad his record, is allowed +the benefit of Borstal training unless he, too, be sound in mind +and body. This is not only an enormity, but it is also a great +absurdity; for it ultimately fills our prisons with weaklings, +and assures the nation a continuous prison population. + +It seems very extraordinary that prison and prison alone should +be considered the one and only place suitable for the afflicted +children of the poor when they break any law, but so it is. + +The moral hump is tolerated, even patronised in reformative +institutions, but the physical hump, never! + +Cunning, dishonesty and rascality generally may be tolerated, but +feebleness of mind or infirmity of body never! All through our +penal administration and prison discipline this principle +prevails, and is strictly acted upon. + +Let me put it briefly; prison, and prison only, is the one and +only place for afflicted youth when it happens to break one or +the other of our laws. + +We have numerous institutions, half penal and half educative, +that exist absolutely for the purpose of receiving homeless, +wayward or criminally inclined youthful delinquents. + +These institutions, I say, although kept going from public funds, +refuse, absolutely refuse, to give training to any youthful +delinquent who suffers from physical infirmity or mental +weakness. + +Think of it again! all youthful delinquents suffering from any +infirmity of body or mind, are refused reformative treatment or +training in all publicly supported institutions established for +delinquent youth. + +He may be a thief, but if he is a hunchback they will have none +of him. He may be a danger to other children, if he has fits he +will not be received. He may rob the tills of small shopkeepers, +but if he is lame, half-blind, has heart disease, or if his brain +is not sound and his body strong, if he has lost a hand, got a +wooden leg, if he suffers from any disease or deprivation, +prison, and prison only, is the place for him. So to prison the +afflicted one goes if over fourteen; if under fourteen back to +his home, to graduate in due time for prison. + +This is no exaggeration, it is a true picture, and this procedure +has gone on till our prisons have become filled with broken and +hopeless humanity. + +Could any one ever suggest a more disastrous course than this? +Why, decency, pity, or just a grain of common sense ought to +teach us, and would teach us if we thought for a moment, that it +is not only wrong but supremely foolish. + +For there is a very close connection between neglected infirmity, +mental or physical, and crime, a connection that ought to be +considered, and few questions demand more instant attention. Yet +no question is more persistently avoided and shelved by +responsible authorities, for no means of dealing with the +defective in mind or body when they commit offences against the +law, other than by short terms of useless imprisonment, have at +present been attempted or suggested. It seems strange that in +Christianised, scientised England such procedure should continue +even for a day, but continue it does, and to-day it seems as +little likely to be altered as it was twenty years ago. Let me +then charge it upon our authorities that they are responsible for +perpetuating this great and cruel wrong. They are not in +ignorance, for the highest authorities know perfectly well that +every year many hundreds of helpless and hopeless degenerates or +defectives are committed to prison and tabulated as habitual +criminals. Our authorities even keep a list on which is placed +the names of these unfortunates who, after prolonged experience +and careful medical examinations, are found to be "unfit for +prison discipline." + +This list is of portentous length, and to it four hundred more +names are added every year. This is of itself an acknowledgment +by the State that every year four hundred unfortunate human +beings who cannot appreciate the nature and quality of the acts +they have committed, are treated, punished and graded as +criminals. Now the State knows perfectly well that these +unfortunates need pity, not punishment; the doctor, not the +warder; and some place where mild, sensible treatment and +permanent restraint can take the place of continual rounds of +short imprisonment alternated with equally senseless short spells +of freedom. + +No! not freedom, but a choice between starvation, prison or +workhouse. Now this list grows, and will continue to grow just +so long as the present disastrous methods are persisted in! + +Why does this list grow? Because magistrates have no power to +order the detention of afflicted youthful offenders in any place +other than prison; they cannot commit to reformatory schools only +on sufferance and with the approval of the school managers, who +demand healthy boys. + +So ultimately to prison the weaklings go, and an interminable +round of small sentences begins. But even in prison they are +again punished because of their afflictions, for only the sound +in mind and body are given the benefit of healthy life and +sensible training. + +Consequently in prison they learn little that can be of service +to them; they only graduate in idleness, and prison having +comforts but no terrors, they quickly join the ranks of the +habitues. When it is too late they are "listed" as not suitable +for prison treatment. Year by year in a country of presumably +sane people this deplorable condition of things continues, and I +am bold enough to say that there will be no reduction in the +number of our prison population till proper treatment, training, +and, if need be, detention, is provided in places other than +prison for our afflicted youthful population when they become +offenders against the law. + +But reformatory and industrial schools have not only power to +refuse youthful delinquents who are unsound in mind or body; they +have also the power to discharge as "unfit for training" any who +have managed to pass the doctor's examination, whose defects +become apparent when under detention. + +From the last Official Report of Reformatory Schools in England +and Wales I take the following figures-- + +During the years 1906-7-8 14 imbeciles (males) were discharged on +licence from reformatory schools; and during the same three years +no less than 93 (males) were discharged by the Home Secretary's +permission as "unfit for physical training." The 14 imbeciles in +the Official Report are classified as dead, and the 93 physically +unfit are included among them "not in regular employment." + +For the same period of years I find that 28 (girls) were +discharged from English reformatory schools as being physically +unfit. + +The Official Report of Industrial Schools includes England, Wales +and Scotland, and for the same three years I find that 13 (males) +were discharged from industrial schools as being imbeciles, and +116 (males) as being "unfit for physical training." + +Strange to say, in the Annual Report the physically unfit are +included among those "in casual employment," and the imbeciles +are included among the "dead." + +From the same Official Report we have the statement that in one +year, 1909, in England and Scotland 991 (males) and 20 (females) +who had been discharged from reformatory schools were re- +convicted and committed to prison. + +How many of them were mentally or physically defective we have no +means of knowing, for no information is given upon this point; +but there is not the slightest doubt that a large number of them +were weak-minded, though not sufficiently so to allow them being +classified as imbeciles. + +The terrible consequence of this procedure may also be gathered +from the Report of the Prison Commissioners for England and Wales +1910, from which it appears that during the year 157 persons were +certified insane among the prisoners in the local and convict +prisons, Borstal institutions and of State reformatories, during +the year ending March 31, 1910. + +In addition to the above there were 290 (213 males and 77 +females) cases of insanity in remanded and other unconvicted +prisoners dealt with during the year, including 14 males and 2 +females found "insane on arraignment," and 173 males and 65 +females found insane on remand from police or petty sessional +courts. There were 30 (20 males and 10 females) prisoners found +"guilty" but "insane" at their trial. + +But the most illuminating report comes from the medical officer +at Parkhurst Convict Prison; these are his words-- + +Weak-minded convicts and others whose mental state is doubtful +continue to be collected here. The special rules for their +management are adhered to. The number classified as weak-minded +at the end of the year was 117, but in addition there were 34 +convicts attached to the parties of weak-minded for further +mental observation. + +"The conduct and tractability of these prisoners naturally vary +with the individual; a careful consideration of the history of +each of the 117 classified weak-minded convicts indicates that +about 64 are fairly easily managed, the remainder difficult to +deal with, and a few are dangerous characters. + +CLASSIFICATION OF WEAK-MINDED CONVICTS:-- + +(a) Congenital deficiency :- + 1. With epilepsy . . . . . . 9 + 2. Without epilepsy . . . . . . 46 +(b) Imperfectly developed stage of insanity 18 +(c) Mental debility after attack of insanity 8 +(d) Senility . . . . . . 2 +(e) Alcohol . . . . . . 6 +(f) Undefined . . . . . . 28 + ----- + 117 + ===== + +"The following is a list of the crimes of the classified weak- +minded for which they are undergoing their present sentences of +penal servitude, and the number convicted for each type of crime +-- + +False pretences . . . . . . . 3 +Receiving stolen property . . . . . 3 +Larceny . . . . . . . 18 +Burglary . . . . . . . 7 +Shop-breaking, house-breaking, etc. . . . 19 +Uttering counterfeit coins . . . . . 1 +Threatening letters . . . . . . 4 +Threatening violence to superior officer . . 1 +Robbery with violence . . . . . . 3 +Manslaughter . . . . . . . 6 +Wounding with intent . . . . . . . 8 +Grievous bodily harm . . . . . . . 2 +Attempted murder . . . . . . . 1 +Wilful murder . . . . . . . . 7 +Rape . . . . . . . . . 5 +Carnal knowledge of little girls . . . . 8 +Arson . . . . . . . . . 15 +Cattle maiming . . . . . . . . 1 +Placing obstruction on railway . . . . 2 +Unnatural offences . . . . . . . 3 + +"During the year 35 convicts were certified insane; of these 27 +were removed to the criminal asylum at Parkhurst, 2 to Broadmoor +asylum, 3 to county or borough asylums, and 3 remained in the +prison infirmary at the end of the year. + +"The average length of the last sentences for which these +unfortunates were committed was seven years' penal servitude +each. That their mental condition was not temporary but +permanent may be gathered from their educational attainments, for +12 had no education at all, 18 were only in Standard I, 29 in +Standard II, 15 in Standard III, and 12 others were of poor +education." + +The statement that the average length of the last sentences of +these unfortunates was seven years' penal servitude is appalling. +It ought to astound us! But no one seems to care. Penal +servitude is good enough for them. Perhaps it is! But it ought +to be called by another name, and legally signify the inmates to +be "patients," not criminals. Let us visit a prison where we +shall find a sufficient number of prisoners to enable us to form +an idea as to their physical and mental condition. + +Come, then, on Sunday morning into a famous prison that long +stood as a model to the world. We are going to morning service, +when we shall have an opportunity of seeing face to face eight +hundred male prisoners. But before we enter the chapel, let us +walk round the hospital and see those who are on the sick list. + +One look as we enter the ward convinced us that some are lying +there whose only chance of freedom is through the gates of death. + +In yonder corner lies a young man of twenty-one years; the +governor tells us that he is friendless, homeless, and a hopeless +consumptive. He says, "We would have sent him out, but he has +nowhere to go, for he does not know his parish, so he must lie +here till he dies, unless his sentence expires first." + +We speak to the young man a few kindly words, but he turns his +face from us, and of his history we learn nothing. + +On another bed we find an old man whose days also will be short; +of his history we learn much, for he has spent a great deal of +his life in prison, and now, aged, feeble and broken, there is +nothing before him but death or continued imprisonment. We pass +by other beds on which prisoners not so hopeless in health are +lying. We see what is the matter with most of them: they are +not strong enough for ordinary prison work, or indeed for any +kind of vigorous labour. So they remain in prison well tended in +the hospital. But some of them pass into freedom without the +slightest ability or chance of getting a living otherwise than by +begging or stealing. + +What strikes us most about the inmates of the prison hospital is +the certainty that many of the prisoners have not sufficient +health and strength to enable them to be useful citizens. + +So we pass through the hospital into the chapel, and find eight +hundred prisoners before us. The organ plays, the morning +service is read by the chaplain; the prisoners sing, and as they +sing there is such a volume of sound that we cannot fail to be +touched with it. + +We enter the pulpit, and as we stand and look down upon that +sea of upturned faces, we see a sight that is not likely to be +forgotten. There, in front of us, right underneath the pulpit, +are rows of young men under twenty-two years of age; we look at +them; they are all clad in khaki, and we take a mental sketch of +them. + +One or two among them are finely developed young men, but the +great bulk we see are small in stature and weak in body. Some of +them have a hopeless expression of countenance that tells us of +moral and mental weakness. + +We note that most of them can have had but little chance in life, +and that their physical or mental infirmities come from no fault +of their own. They have all been to school; they have started in +life, if it can be called starting, as errand boys, paper sellers +in the streets, or as street merchants of some description. They +have grown into early manhood, but they have not increased in +wisdom or stature. They have learned no occupation, trade or +handicraft; they have passed from school age to early manhood +without discipline, decent homes or technical training. + +When at liberty their homes are lodging-houses or even less +desirable places. So they pass from the streets to the police, +from police-courts to prison, with positive regularity. + +They behave themselves in prison, they obey orders, they do the +bit of work that is required of them, they eat the food, and they +sleep interminable hours away. + +At the back of the young men we see row after row of older men, +and their khaki clothing and broad arrows produce a strange +impression upon us; but what impresses us most is the facial and +physical appearance of the prisoners. + +Cripples are there, twisted bodies are there, one-armed men are +there, and blind men are there. Here and there we see a healthy +man, with vigour and strength written on his face; but the great +mass of faces strikes us with dismay, and we feel at once that +most of them are handicapped In life, and demand pity rather than +vengeance. + +We know that they are not as other men, and we realise that their +afflictions more than their sins are responsible for their +presence in that doleful assembly. + +Yet some of them are clever in crime, and many of them persistent +in wrong-doing, but their afflictions were neglected in days when +those afflictions should have been a passport to the pity and +care of the community. + +We see men who have grown old in different prisons, and we know +that position in social and industrial life is impossible for +them. + +We see a number whom it is evident are not mentally responsible, +for whom there is no place but the workhouse or prison; yet we +realise that, old as they are, the day of liberty must come once +more, and they will be free to starve or steal! + +We know that there are some epileptics among them, and that their +dread complaint has caused them to commit acts of violence. + +We see among them men of education that have made war upon +society. Drunkards, too, are there, and we know that their +overmastering passion will demand gratification when once again +the opportunity of indulging in its presented to them. So we +look at this strange mass of humanity, and as we look a mist +comes over our eyes, and we feel a choking sensation in our +throats. + +But we look again, and see that few throughout this great +assembly show any sense of sorrow or shame. As we speak to them +of hope, gladness, of manliness, and of the dignity of life, we +feel that we are preaching to an east wind. Come round the same +prison with me on a week-day; in one part we find a number of men +seated about six feet from each other making baskets; warders are +placed on pedestals here and there to keep oversight. + +We walk past them, and notice their slow movements and see +hopelessness written all over them. They are working "in +association," they are under "observation," which, the governor +tells us, means that they are suspected of either madness or +mental deficiency. + +As we look at them we are quite satisfied that this suspicion is +true, and that, if not absolutely mad, they are mentally +deficient. + +If absolute madness be detected, they will be sent to asylums. +If feeble-mindedness be proved, they will again be set at +liberty. Their names will be placed on a list, and they will be +declared "unfit for prison discipline," but nothing more will be +done. They will be discharged to prowl about in the underworld, +to commit other criminal acts and to be returned again and again +to prison, to live out hopeless lives. + +And there is another cause, almost as prolific in producing a +prison population. For while the State has been, and still is, +ready to thrust afflicted youth into prison, it has been, and +still is, equally ready to thrust into prison the half-educated, +half-fed, and half-employed young people who break its laws or +by-laws. It is true that the State in its irony allows them the +option of a fine; but the law might as well ask the youths of the +underworld to pay ten pounds as ask them to pay ten shillings; +nor can they procure all at once the smaller sum, so to prison +hundreds of lads are sent. + +Does it ever occur to our esteemed authorities that this is a +most dangerous procedure! What good can possibly come either to +the State or to the youthful offender? + +What are the offences of these boys? Disorder in the streets, +loitering at railway stations, playing a game of chance called +"pitch and toss," of which I have something to say in another +chapter, gambling with a penny pack of cards, playing tip-cat, +kicking a football, made of old newspapers maybe, playing +cricket, throwing stones, using a catapult, bathing in a canal, +and a hundred similar things are all deemed worthy of +imprisonment, if committed by the youngsters of the world below +the line. + +Thousands of lads have had their first experience of prison for +trumpery offences that are natural to the boys of the poor. But +a first experience of prison is to them a pleasant surprise. +They are astonished to find that prison is not "half a bad +place." They do not object to going there again, not they! Why? +Because the conditions of prison life are better, as they need to +be, than the conditions of their own homes. The food is better, +the lodging is better, the bed is decidedly better, and as to the +work, why, they have none worthy of the name to do. They lose +nothing but their liberty, and they can stand that for a week or +two, what matters! + +Well, something does matter, for they lose three other things of +great moment to them if they only knew; but they don't know, and +our authorities evidently consider these three things of no +moment. What do they lose? First, their fear of prison; +secondly, their little bit of character; thirdly, their work, if +they have any. What eventuates? Idleness, hooliganism and +repeated imprisonments for petty crime, until something more +serious happens, and then longer sentences. Such is the progress +of hundreds whom statisticians love to call "recidivists." + +Am I wrong when I say that the State has been too ready, too +prompt in sending the youths of the ignorant poor to prison? Am +I wrong in saying that the State has been playing its "trump ace" +too soon, and that it ought to have kept imprisonment up its +sleeve a little longer? These lads, having been in prison, know, +and their companions know, too, the worst that can happen to them +when they commit real crime. Prison has done its worst, and it +cannot hurt them. + +If prisons there must be, am I wrong in contending that they +should be reserved for the perpetrators of real and serious +crime; and that the punishment, if there is to be punishment, +should be certain, dignified and severe, educational and +reformative? At present it includes none of these qualities. + +To such a length has the imprisonment of youths for trumpery +offences gone, not only in London, but throughout the country, +that visiting justices of my acquaintance have spent a great deal +of money in part paying the fines of youths imprisoned under such +conditions, that they might be released at once. Here we have a +curious state of affairs, magistrates generally committing youths +to prison in default for trumpery offences, and other magistrates +searching prisons for imprisoned youths, paying their fines, +setting them free, and sending on full details to the Home +Secretary. + +It would be interesting to know how many "cases" of this kind +have been reported to the Home Secretary during the last few +years. Time after time the governors of our prisons have called +attention to this evil in their annual reports. They know +perfectly well the disaster that attends the needless +imprisonment of boys, and it worries them. They treat the boys +very kindly, all honour to them! But even kindness to young +prisoners has its dangers, and every governor is able to tell of +the constant return of youthful prisoners. + +I do not like the "birch" or corporal punishment at all. I do +not advocate it, but I am certain that the demoralising effect of +a few' days' imprisonment is far in excess of the demoralisation +that follows a reasonable application of the birch. + +But the birch cannot be applied to lads over fourteen years of +age, so it would be well to abolish it altogether, except in +special cases, and for these the age might with advantage be +extended. And, after all, imprisonment itself is physical +punishment and a continued assault upon the body. But why +imprison at all for such cases? We talk about imprisonment for +debt; this is imprisonment for debt with a vengeance. Look! two +lads are charged with one offence or two similar offences; one +boy is from the upperworld, the other from below the line. The +same magistrate fines the two boys an equal amount; the one boy +pays, or his friends pay; but the other goes of a certainty to +prison. Is it not absurd! rather, is it not unjust? + +But whether it is absurd or unjust the result is certain +--mathematically certain--in the development of a prison +population. + +During my police-court days I have seen hundreds of youths +sitting crying in their cells consumed with fear, waiting their +first experience of prison; I have seen their terror when first +entering the prison van, and I know that when entering the prison +portals their terror increased. But it soon vanished, for I have +never seen boys cry, or show any signs of fear when going to +prison for the second time. The reason for this I have already +given: "fear of the unknown" has been removed. This fear may +not be a very noble characteristic, but it is part of us, and it +has a useful place, especially where penalties are likely to be +incurred. + +For many years I have been protesting against this needless +imprisonment of youths, and now it has become part of my duty to +visit prisons and to talk to youthful prisoners, I see the +wholesale evil that attends this method of dealing with youthful +offenders. And the same evils attend, though to perhaps a less +degree, the prompt imprisonment of adults, who are unable to pay +forthwith fines that have been imposed upon them. + +It is always the poor, the very poor, the people below the line +that suffer in this direction. Doubtless they merit some +correction, and the magistrates consider that fines of ten +shillings are appropriate, but then they thoughtlessly add "or +seven days." + +Think of the folly of it! because a man cannot pay a few +shillings down, the State conveys him to prison and puts the +community to the very considerable expense of keeping him. The +law has fined him, but he cannot pay then, so the law turns round +and fines the community. + +What sense, decency, or profit can there possibly be in +committing women to prison, even for drunkenness, for three, five +or seven days? How can it profit either the State or the woman? +It only serves to familiarise her with prison. + +I could laugh at it, were it not so serious. Just look at this +absurdity! A woman gets drunk on Thursday, she is charged on +Friday. "Five shillings, or three days!" On Friday afternoon +she enters prison, for the clerk has made out a "commitment," and +the gaoler has handed her into the prison van. Her "commitment" +is handed to the prison authorities; it is tabulated, so is she; +but at nine o'clock next morning she is discharged from prison, +for the law reckons every part of a day to be a complete day; and +the law also says that there must be no discharge from prison on +a Sunday, and to keep her till Monday would be illegal, for it +would be "four days." How small, how disastrous, and how +expensive it is! + +If offenders, young or old, must be punished, let them be +punished decently. If they ought to be sent to prison, to prison +send them. But if their petty offences can be expunged by the +payment of a few shillings, why not give them a little time to +pay those fines? Such a course would stop for ever the +miserable, deadly round of short expensive imprisonments. I have +approached succeeding Home Secretaries upon this matter till I am +tired; succeeding Home Secretaries have sent memorandums and +recommendations to courts of summary jurisdiction till, I expect, +they are tired, for generally they have had no effect in +mitigating the evil. + +Magistrates have the power to grant time for the payment of +fines, but it is optional, not imperative. It is high time for a +change, and surely it will come, for the absurdity cannot +continue. + +Surely every English man and woman who possesses a settled home +ought to have, and must have, the legal right of a few days' +grace in which to pay his or her fine. And every youthful +offender ought to have the same right, also, even if he paid by +instalments. + +But at present it is so much easier, and therefore so much +better, to thrust the underworld, youthful and adult, into prison +and have done with them, than it is to pursue a sane but a little +bit troublesome method that would keep thousands of the poor from +ever entering prison. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +UNEMPLOYED AND UNEMPLOYABLE + +My life has been one of activity; from an early age I have known +what it was to be constantly at work. To have the certainty of +regular work, and to have the discipline of constant duty, seem +to me an ideal state for mind and body. Labour, we are sometimes +told, is one of God's chastisements upon a fallen race; I believe +it to be one of our choicest blessings. I can conceive only one +greater tragedy than the man who has nothing to do, and that is +the man who, earnestly longing for work, seeks it day by day, and +fails to find it. + +Imagine his position, and imagine also, if you possibly can, the +great qualities that are demanded if such a man is to go through +a lengthened period of unemployment without losing his dignity, +his manhood and his desire for work. + +I can tell at a glance the man who has had this experience. +There is something about his face that proclaims his +hopelessness, the very poise of his body and his peculiar +measured step tell that his heart is utterly unexpectant. To- +morrow morning, and every morning, thousands of men will rise +early, even before the sun, and set out on their weary tramp and +hopeless search for work. To-morrow morning, and every morning, +thousands of men will be waiting at various dock-gates for a +chance of obtaining a few hours' hard work. And while these +wait, others tramp, seeking and asking for work. + +Wives may be ill at home, children may be wanting food and +clothing, but every day thousands of husbands set out on the +interminable search for work, and every day return disappointed. +Small wonder that some of them descend to a lower grade and in +addition to being unemployed, become unemployable. + +Look at those thousands of men clamouring daily at our dock- +gates; about one-half of them will obtain a few hours' hard work, +but the other half will go hopeless away. They will gather some +courage during the night, for the next morning they will find +their way to, and be knocking once more at, the same dock-gates. +It takes sterling qualities to endure this life, and there can be +no greater hero than the man who goes through it and still +retains manhood. + +But it would be more than a miracle if tens of thousands of men +could live this life without many of them becoming wastrels, for +it is certain that a life of unemployment is dangerous to +manhood, to character and health. + +As a matter of fact the ranks of the utterly submerged are being +constantly recruited from the ranks of those who have but casual +work. During winter the existence of the unemployed is more +amply demonstrated, for then we are called upon to witness the +most depressing of all London's sights, a parade of the +unemployed. I never see one without experiencing strange and +mixed emotions. Let me picture a parade, for where I live they +are numerous, and at least once a week one will pass my window. + +I hear the doleful strains of a tin whistle accompanied with a +rub-a-dub-dub of a kettledrum that has known its best days, and +whose sound is as doleful as that of the whistle. I know what is +coming, and, though I have seen it many times, it has still a +fascination for me, so I stand at my window and watch. I see two +men carrying a dilapidated banner, on which is inscribed two +words, "The Unemployed." The man with the tin whistle and the +man with the drum follow the banner, and behind them is a company of +men marching four abreast. Two policemen on the pavement keep +pace with the head of the procession, and two others perform a +similar duty at the end of it. + +On the pavement are a number of men with collecting boxes, ready +to receive any contribution that charitably inclined people may +bestow. They do not knock at any door, but they stand for a +moment and rattle their boxes in front of every window. + +The sound of the whistle and the drum, and the rattle of boxes +is, in all conscience, depressing enough, but one glimpse at the +men is infinitely more so. + +Most of them are below the average height and bulk. Their hands +are in their trousers pockets, their shoulders are up, but their +heads are bent downwards as if they were half ashamed of their +job. A peculiar slouching gait is characteristic of the whole +company, and I look in vain for a firm step, an upright carriage, +and for some signs of alert manhood. As they pass slowly by I +see that some are old, but I also see that the majority of them +are comparatively young, and that many of them cannot be more +than thirty years of age. But whether young or old, I am +conscious of the fact that few of them are possessed of strength, +ability and grit. There are no artisans or craftsmen among them, +and stalwart labourers are not in evidence. + +Pitiful as the procession is, I know that it does not represent +the genuine and struggling unemployed. They pass slowly by and +go from street to street. So they will parade throughout the +livelong day. The police will accompany them, and will see them +disbanded when the evening closes in. The boxes will be emptied, +the contents tabulated, and a pro rata division will be made, +after which the processionists will go home and remain unemployed +till the next weekly parade comes round. + +Unemployable! yes, but so much the greater pity; and so much +more difficult the problem, for they represent a very large +class, and it is to be feared a growing class of the manhood of +London's underworld. + +We cannot blame them for their physical inferiority, nor for +their lack of ability and grit. To expect them to exhibit great +qualities would be absurd. They are what they are, and a wise +country would ponder the causes that lead to such decadent +manhood. During my prison lectures I have been frequently struck +with the mean size and appearance of the prisoners under twenty- +two years of age, who are so numerous in our London prisons. +From many conversations with them I have learned that lack of +physical strength means also lack of mental and moral strength, +and lack of honest aspiration, too! I am confirmed in this +judgment by a statement that appeared in the annual report of the +Prison Commissioners, who state that some years ago they adapted +the plan in Pentonville prison of weighing and measuring all the +prisoners under the age of twenty-two. + +The result I will tell in their own words: "As a class they are +two-and-a-half inches below the average height of the general +youthful population of the same age, and weigh approximately +fourteen pounds less." + +Here, then, we have an official proof of physical decadence, and +of its connection with prison life. For these young men, so +continuously in prison, grow into what should be manhood without +any desire or qualification for robust industrial life. + +I never speak to them without feeling a deep pity. But as it is +my business to interest them, I try to learn something from them +in return, as the following illustration will show. + +I had been giving a course of lectures on industrial life to the +young prisoners in Wormwood Scrubbs, who numbered over three +hundred. On my last visit I interrogated them as follows-- + +"Stand up those of you that have had regular or continuous work." +None of them stood up! "Stand up those of you who have been +apprentices." None of them stood up! "Stand up those of you who +sold papers in the street before you left school." Twenty-five +responded! "How many sold other things in the streets before +leaving school?" Thirty! Seventeen others sold papers after +leaving school, and thirty-eight sold various articles. +Altogether I found that nearly two hundred had been in street +occupations. + +To my final question: "How many of you have met me in other +prisons?" Thirty-five stood up! I give these particulars +because I think my readers will realise the bearing they have on +unemployment. + +Surely it is obvious that if we continue to have a growing number +of physically inferior young men, who acquire no technical skill +and have not the slightest industrial training, that we shall +continue to have an increasing number of unemployed +unemployables. + + +CHAPTER XIV + +SUGGESTIONS + +I propose in this last chapter to make some suggestions, which, I +venture to hope, will be found worthy of consideration and +adoption. + +The causes of so much misery, suffering and poverty in a rich and +self-governing country are numerous; and every cause needs a +separate consideration and remedy. + +There is no royal road by which the underworld people can ascend +to the upperworld; there can be no specific for healing all the +sores from which humanity suffers. + +Our complex civilisation, our industrial methods, our strange +social system, combined with the varied characteristics mental +and physical of individuals, make social salvation for the mass +difficult and quite impossible for many. + +I shall have written with very little effect if I have not shown +what some of these individual characteristics are. They are +strange, powerful and extraordinary. So very mixed, even in one +individual, that while sometimes they inspire hope, at others +they provoke despair. + +If we couple the difficulties of individual character with the +social, industrial and economic difficulties, we see at once how +great the problem is. + +We must admit, and we ought frankly to admit the truth, and to +face it, that there exists a very large army of people that +cannot be socially saved. What is more important, they do not +want to be saved, and will not be saved if they can avoid it. +Their great desire is to be left alone, to be allowed to live +where and how they like. + +For these people there must be, there will be, and at no far +distant date, detention, segregation and classification. We must +let them quietly die out, for it is not only folly, but suicidal +folly to allow them to continue and to perpetuate. + +But we are often told that "Heaven helps those who help +themselves"; in fact, we have been told it so often that we have +come to believe it, and, what is worse, we religiously or +irreligiously act upon it when dealing with those below the line. + +If any serious attempt is ever made to lessen the number of the +homeless and destitute, if that attempt is to have any chance of +success, it will, I am sure, be necessary to make an alteration +in the adage and a reversal of our present methods. + +If the adage ran, "Heaven helps those who cannot help +themselves," and if we all placed ourselves on the side of +Heaven, the present abominable and distressing state of affairs +would not endure for a month, + +Now I charge it upon the State and local authorities that they +avoid their responsibilities to those who most sorely need their +help, and who, too, have the greatest claim upon their pity and +protecting care. Sometimes those claims are dimly recognised, +and half-hearted efforts are made to care for the unfortunate for +a short space of time, and to protect them for a limited period. + +But these attempts only serve to show the futility of the +efforts, for the unfortunates are released from protective care +at the very time when care and protection should become more +effectual and permanent. + +It is comforting to know that we have in London special schools +for afflicted or defective children. Day by day hundreds of +children are taken to these schools, where genuine efforts are +made to instruct them and to develop their limited powers. But +eight hundred children leave these schools every year; in five +years four thousand afflicted children leave these schools. +Leave the schools to live in the underworld of London, and leave, +too, just at the age when protection is urgently needed. For +adolescence brings new passions that need either control or +prohibition. + +I want my reader's imagination to dwell for a moment on these +four thousand defectives that leave our special schools every +five years; I want them to ask themselves what becomes of these +children, and to remember that what holds good with London's +special schools, holds good with regard to all other special +schools our country over. + +These young people grow into manhood and womanhood without the +possibility of growing in wisdom or skill. Few, very few of +them, have the slightest chance of becoming self-reliant or self- +supporting; ultimately they form a not inconsiderable proportion +of the hopeless. + +Philanthropic societies receive some of them, workhouses receive +others, but these institutions have not, nor do they wish to +have, any power of permanent detention, the cost would be too +great. Sooner or later the greater part of them become a costly +burden upon the community, and an eyesore to humanity. Many of +them live nomadic lives, and make occasional use of workhouses +and similar institutions when the weather is bad, after which +they return to their uncontrolled existence. Feeble-minded and +defective women return again and again to the maternity wards to +deposit other burdens upon the ratepayers and to add to the +number of their kind. + +But the nation has begun to realise this costly absurdity of +leaving this army of irresponsibles in possession of uncontrolled +liberty. The Royal Commission on the Care and Control of the +Feeble-minded, after sitting for four years, has made its report. +This report is a terrible document and an awful indictment of our +neglect. + +The commissioners tell us that on January 1st, 1906, there were +in England and Wales 149,628 idiots, imbeciles, and feeble- +minded; in addition there were on the same date 121,079 persons +suffering from some kind of insanity or dementia. So that the +total number of those who came within the scope of the inquiry +was no less than 271,607, or 1 in every 120 of the whole +population. + +Of the persons suffering from mental defect, i.e. feeble-minded, +imbeciles, etc., one-third were supported entirely at the public +cost in workhouses, asylums, prisons, etc. + +The report does not tell us much about the remaining two-thirds; +but those of us who have experience know only too well what +becomes of them, and are painfully acquainted with the +hopelessness of their lives. + +Here, then, is my first suggestion--a national plan for the +permanent detention, segregation and control of all persons who +are indisputably feeble-minded. Surely this must be the duty of +the State, for it is impossible that philanthropic societies can +deal permanently with them. + +We must catch them young; we must make them happy, for they have +capabilities for childlike happiness, and we must make their +lives as useful as possible. But we must no longer allow them +the curse of uncontrolled liberty. + +Again, no boy should be discharged from reformatory or industrial +schools as "unfit for training" unless passed on to some +institution suitable to his age and condition. If we have no +such institutions, as of course we have not, then the State must +provide them. And the magistrates must have the power to commit +boys and girls who are charged before them to suitable industrial +schools or reformatories as freely, as certainly, as +unquestioned, and as definitely as they now commit them to +prison. + +At present magistrates have not this power, for though, as a +matter of course, these institutions receive numbers of boys and +girls from police-courts, the institutions have the power to +Refuse, to grant "licences" or to "discharge." So it happens +that the meshes of the net are large enough to allow those that +ought to be detained to go free. + +No one can possibly doubt that a provision of this character +would largely diminish the number of those that become homeless +vagrants. + +But I proceed to my second suggestion--the detention and +segregation of all professional tramps. If it is intolerable +that an army of poor afflicted human beings should live homeless +and nomadic lives, it is still more intolerable that an army of +men and women who are not deficient in intelligence, and who are +possessed of fairly healthy bodies should, in these days, be +allowed to live as our professional tramps live. + +I have already spoken of the fascination attached to a life of +irresponsible liberty. The wind on the heath, the field and +meadow glistening with dew or sparkling with flowers, the singing +of the bird, the joy of life, and no rent day coming round, who +would not be a tramp! Perhaps our professional tramps think +nothing of these things, for to eat, to sleep, to be free of +work, to be uncontrolled, to have no anxieties, save the +gratification of animal demands and animal passions, is the +perfection of life for thousands of our fellow men and women. + +Is this kind of life to be permitted? Every sensible person will +surely say that it ought not to be permitted. Yet the number of +people who attach themselves to this life continually increases, +for year by year the prison commissioners tell us that the number +of persons imprisoned for vagrancy, sleeping out, indecency, +etc., continues to increase, and that short terms of imprisonment +only serve as periods of recuperation for them, for in prison +they are healed of their sores and cleansed from their vermin. + +With every decent fellow who tramps in search of work we must +have the greatest sympathy, but for professional tramps we must +provide very simply. Most of these men, women and children find +their way into prison, workhouses and casual wards at some time +or other. When the man gets into prison, the woman and children +go into the nearest workhouse. When the man is released from +prison he finds the woman and children waiting for him, and away +they go refreshed and cleansed by prison and workhouse treatment. + +We must stop for ever this costly and disastrous course of life. +How? By establishing in every county and under county +authorities, or, if necessary, by a combination of counties, +special colonies for vagrants, one for males and another for +females. Every vagrant who could not give proof that he had some +definite object in tramping must be committed to these colonies +and detained, till such time as definite occupation or home be +found for him. + +Here they should live and work, practically earning their food +and clothing; their lives should be made clean and decent, and +certainly economical. For these colonies there must be of course +State aid. + +The children must be adopted by the board of guardians or +education authorities and trained in small homes outside the +workhouse gates this should be compulsory. + +These two plans would certainly clear away the worst and most +hopeless tribes of nomads, and though for a short time they would +impose considerable pecuniary obligations upon us, yet we should +profit even financially in the near future, and, best of all, +should prevent a second generation arising to fill the place of +those detained. + +The same methods should be adopted with the wretched mass of +humanity that crowds nightly on the Thames Embankment. +Philanthropy is worse than useless with the great majority of +these people. Hot soup in the small hours of a cold morning is +doubtless comforting to them, and if the night is wet, foggy, +etc., a cover for a few hours is doubtless a luxury. They drink +the soup, they take advantage of the cover, and go away, to +return at night for more soup and still another cover. Oh, the +folly of it all! + +We must have shelters for them, but the County Council must +provide them. Large, clean and healthy places into which, night +by night, the human derelicts from the streets should be taken by +special police. + +But there should be no release with the morning light, but +detention while full inquiries are made regarding them. Friends +would doubtless come forward to help many, but the remainder +should be classified according to age and physical and mental +condition, and released only when some satisfactory place or +occupation is forthcoming for them. + +The nightly condition of the Embankment is not only disgraceful, +but it is dangerous to the health and wellbeing of the community. + +It is almost inconceivable that we should allow those parts of +London which are specially adapted for the convenience of the +public to be monopolised by a mass of diseased and unclean +humanity. If we would but act sensibly with these classes, I am +sure we could then deal in an effectual manner with that portion +of the nomads for whom there is hope. + +If the vast amount of money that is poured out in the vain effort +to help those whom it is impossible to help was devoted to those +that are helpable, the difficulty would be solved, + +So I would suggest, and it is no new suggestion, that all +philanthropic societies that deal with the submerged should unite +and co-ordinate with the authorities. That private individuals +who have money, time or ability at their command should unite +with them. That one great all-embracing organisation, empowered +and aided by the State, should be formed, to which the man, woman +or family that is overtaken or overwhelmed by misfortune could +turn in time of their need with the assurance that their needs +would be sympathetically considered and their requirements wisely +attended to. + +An organisation of this description would prevent tens of +thousands from becoming vagrants, and a world of misery and +unspeakable squalor would be prevented. + +The recent Report on the Poor Law foreshadows an effort of this +description, and in Germany this method is tried with undoubted +success. + +Some day we shall try it, but that day will not come till we have +realised how futile, how expensive our present methods are. The +Poor Law system needs recasting. Charity must be divorced from +religion. Philanthropic and semi-religious organisations must be +separated from their commercial instincts and commercial greed. +The workhouse, the prison, the Church Army and the Salvation +Army's shelters and labour homes must no longer form the circle +round which so many hopelessly wander. + +No man or set of men must be considered the saviour of the poor, +and though much knowledge will be required, it perhaps will be +well not to have too much. + +Above all, the desire to prevent, rather than the desire to +restore, must be the aim of the organisation which should embrace +every parish in our land. + +Finally, and in a few words, my methods would be detention and +protective care for the afflicted or defective, detention and +segregation for the tramps, and a great charitable State-aided +organisation to deal with the unfortunate. + +Tramps we shall continue to have, but there need be nothing +degrading about them, if only the professional element can be +eliminated. + +Labour exchanges are doing a splendid work for the genuine +working man whose labour must often be migratory. But every +labour exchange should have its clean lodging-house, in which the +decent fellows who want work, and are fitted for work, may stay +for a night, and thus avoid the contamination attending the +common lodging-houses or the degradation and detention attending +casual wards. + +There exists, I am sure, great possibilities for good in labour +exchanges, if, and if only, their services can be devoted to the +genuinely unemployed. + +Already I have said they are doing much, and one of the most +useful things they do is the advancement of rail-fares to men +when work is obtained at a distance. A development in this +direction will do much to end the disasters that attend decent +fellows when they go on tramp. Migratory labour is unfortunately +an absolute necessity, for our industrial and commercial life +demand it, and almost depend upon it. The men who supply that +want are quite as useful citizens as the men who have permanent +and settled work. But their lives are subject to many dangers, +temptations, and privations from which they ought to be +delivered. + +The more I reflect upon the present methods for dealing with +professional tramps, the more I am persuaded that these methods +are foolish and extravagant. But the more I reflect on the life +of the genuinely unemployed that earnestly desire work and are +compelled to tramp in search of it, the more I am persuaded that +such life is attended by many dangers. The probability being +that if the tramp and search be often repeated or long-continued, +the desire for, and the ability to undergo, regular work will +disappear. + +But physical and mental inferiority, together with the absence of +moral purpose, have a great deal to say with regard to the number +of our unemployed. + +If you ask me the source of this stunted manhood, I point you to +the narrow streets of the underworld. Thence they issue, and +thence alone. + +Do you ask the cause? The causes are many! First and foremost +stands that all-pervading cause--the housing of the poor. Who +can enumerate the thousands that have breathed the fetid air of +the miserable dwelling-places in our slums? Who dare picture how +they live and sleep, as they lie, unripe sex with sex, for mutual +taint? I dare not, and if I did no publisher could print it. + +Who dare describe the life of a mother-wife, whose husband and +children have become dependent upon her earnings! I dare not! +Who dare describe the exact life and doings of four families +living in a little house intended for one family? Who can +describe the life, speech, actions and atmosphere of such places? +I cannot, for the task would be too disgusting! + +For tens of thousands of people are allowed, or compelled, to +live and die under those conditions. How can vigorous manhood or +pure womanhood come out of them? Ought we to expect, have we any +right to expect, manhood and womanhood born and bred under such +conditions to be other than blighted? + +Whether we expect it or not matters but little, for we have this +mass of blighted humanity with us, and, like an old man of the +sea, it is a burden upon our back, a burden that is not easily +got rid of. + +What are we doing with this burden in the present? How are we +going to prevent it in the future? are two serious questions +that must be answered, and quickly, too, or something worse will +happen to us. + +The authorities must see to it at once that children shall have +as much air and breathing space in their homes by night as they +have in the schools by day. + +What sense can there be in demanding and compelling a certain +amount of air space in places where children are detained for +five and a half hours, and then allow those children to stew in +apologies for rooms, where the atmosphere is vile beyond +description, and where they are crowded indiscriminately for the +remaining hours? + +This is the question of the day and the hour. Drink, foreign +invasion, the House of Lords or the House of Commons, Tariff +Reform or Free Trade, none of these questions, no, nor the whole +lot of them combined, compare for one moment in importance with +this one awful question. + +Give the poor good airy housing at a reasonable rent, and half +the difficulties against which our nation runs its thick head +would disappear. Hospitals and prisons would disappear too as if +by magic, for it is to these places that the smitten manhood +finds its way. + +I know it is a big question! But it is a question that has got +to be solved, and in solving it some of our famous and cherished +notions will have to go. Every house, no matter to whom it +belongs, or who holds the lease, who lets or sub-lets, every +inhabited house must be licensed by the local authorities for a +certain number of inmates, so many and no more; a maximum, but no +minimum. + +Local authorities even now have great powers concerning +construction, drains, etc. Let them now be empowered to make +stringent rules about habitations other than their municipal +houses. The piggeries misnamed lodging-houses, the common +shelters, etc., are inspected and licensed for a certain number +of inmates; it is high time that this was done with the wretched +houses in which the poor live. + +Oh, the irony of it! Idle tramps must not be crowded, but the +children of the poor may be crowded to suffocation. This must +surely stop; if not, it will stop us! Again I say, that local +authorities must have the power to decide the number of +inhabitants that any house shall accommodate, and license it +accordingly, and of course have legal power to enforce their +decision. + +The time has come for a thorough investigation. I would have +every room in every house visited by properly appointed officers. +I would have every detail as to size of room, number of persons +and children, rent paid, etc., etc.; I would have its conditions +and fitness for human habitation inquired into and reported upon. + +I would miss no house, I would excuse none. A standard should be +set as to the condition and position of every house, and the +number it might be allowed to accommodate. This would bring many +dark things into the light of day, and I am afraid the reputation +of many respectable people would suffer, and their pockets too, +although they tell us that they "have but a life-interest" in the +pestiferous places. But if we drive people out of these places, +where will they go? + +Well, out they must go! and it is certain that there is at +present no place for them! + +Places must be prepared for them, and local authorities must +prepare them. Let them address themselves to this matter and no +longer shirk their duty with regard to the housing of the poor. +Let them stop for ever the miserable pretence of housing the poor +that they at present pursue. For be it known that they house +"respectable" people only, those that have limited families and +can pay a high rental. + +If local authorities cannot do it, then the State must step in +and help them, for it must be done. It seems little use waiting +for private speculation or philanthropic trusts to show us the +way in this matter, for both want and expect too high an interest +for their outlay. But a good return will assuredly be +forthcoming if the evil be tackled in a sensible way. + +Let no one be downhearted about new schemes for housing the poor +not paying! Why, everything connected with the poor from the +cradle to the grave is a source of good profit to some one, if +not to themselves. + +Let a housing plan be big enough and simple enough, and I am +certain that it will pay even when it provides for the very poor. +But old ideals will have to be forsaken and new ones substituted. + +I have for many years considered this question very deeply, and +from the side of the very poor. I think that I know how the +difficulty can be met, and I am prepared to place my suggestions +for housing the poor before any responsible person or authority +who would care to consider the matter. + +Perhaps it is due to the public to say here that one of the +greatest sorrows of my life was my inability to make good a +scheme that a rich friend and myself formulated some years ago. +This failure was due to the serious illness of my friend, and I +hope that it will yet materialise. + +But, in addition to the housing, there are other matters which +affect the vigour and virility of the poor. School days must be +extended till the age of sixteen. Municipal playgrounds open in +the evening must be established. If boys and girls are kept at +school till sixteen, older and weaker people will be able to get +work which these boys have, but ought not to have. The nation +demands a vigorous manhood, but the nation cannot have it without +some sacrifice, which means doing without child labour, for child +labour is the destruction of virile manhood. + +Emigration is often looked upon as the great specific. But the +multiplication of agencies for exporting the young, the healthy, +and the strong to the colonies causes me some alarm. For +emigration as at present conducted certainly does not lessen the +number of the unfit and the helpless. + +It must be apparent to any one who thinks seriously upon this +matter that a continuance of the present methods is bound to +entail disastrous consequences, and to promote racial decay at +home. The problem of the degenerates, the physical and mental +weaklings is already a pressing national question. But serious +as the question is at the present moment, it is but light in its +intensity compared with what it must be in the near future, +unless we change our methods. One fact ought to be definitely +understood and seriously pondered, and it is this: no emigration +agency, no board of guardians, no church organisation and no +human salvage organisation emigrates or assists to emigrate young +people of either sex who cannot pass a severe medical examination +and be declared mentally and physically sound. This demands +serious thought; for the puny, the weak and the unfit are +ineligible; our colonies will have none of them, and perhaps our +colonies are wise, so the unfit remain at home to be our despair +and affliction. + +But our colonies demand not only physical and mental health, but +moral health also, for boys and girls from reformatory and +industrial schools are not acceptable; though the training given +in these institutions ought to make the young people valuable +assets in a new country. + +The serious fact that only the best are exported and that all the +afflicted and the weak remain at home is, I say, worthy of +profound attention. + +Thousands of healthy working men with a little money and abundant +grit emigrate of their own choice and endeavour. Fine fellows +they generally are, and good fortune attends them! Thousands of +others with no money but plenty of strength are assisted "out," +and they are equally good, while thousands of healthy young women +are assisted "out" also. All through the piece the strong and +healthy leave our shores, and the weaklings are left at home. + +It is always with mixed feelings that I read of boys and girls +being sent to Canada, for while I feel hopeful regarding their +future, I know that the matter does not end with them; for I +appreciate some of the evils that result to the old country from +the method of selection. + +Emigration, then, as at present conducted, is no cure for the +evil it is supposed to remedy. Nay, it increases the evil, for +it secures to our country an ever-increasing number of those who +are absolutely unfitted to fulfil the duties of citizenship. + +Yet emigration might be a beneficent thing if it were wisely +conducted on a comprehensive basis, which should include a fair +proportion of those that are now excluded because of their +unfitness. + +Are we to go on far ever with our present method of dealing with +those who have been denied wisdom and stature? Who are what they +are, but whose disabilities cannot be charged upon themselves, +and for whom there is no place other than prison or workhouse? + +Yet many of them have wits, if not brains, and are clever in +little ways of their own. At home we refuse them the advantages +that are solicitously pressed upon their bigger and stronger +brothers. Abroad every door is locked against them. What are +they to do? The Army and Navy will have none of them! and +industrial life has no place for them. So prison, workhouse and +common lodging-houses are their only homes. + +Wise emigration methods would include many of them, and decent +fellows they would make if given a chance. Oxygen and new +environment, with plenty of food, etc., would make an alteration +in their physique, and regular work would prove their salvation. +But this matter should, and must be, undertaken by the State, for +philanthropy cannot deal with it; and when the State does +undertake it, consequences unthought-of will follow, for the +State will be able to close one-half of its prisons. + +It is the helplessness of weaklings that provides the State with +more than half its prisoners. Is it impossible, I would ask, for +a Government like ours, with all its resources of wealth, power +and influence to devise and carry out some large scheme of +emigration? If colonial governments wisely refuse our inferior +youths, is it not unwise for our own Government to neglect them? + +In the British Empire is there no idle land that calls for men +and culture? Here we in England have thousands of young fellows +who, because of their helplessness, are living lives of idleness +and wrongdoing. + +Time after time these young men find their way into prison, and +every short sentence they undergo sends them back to liberty more +hopeless and helpless. Many of them are not bad fellows; they +have some qualities that are estimable, but they are +undisciplined and helpless. Not all the discharged prisoners' +aid societies in the land, even with Government assistance, can +procure reasonable and progressive employment for them. + +The thought of thousands of young men, not criminals, spending +their lives in a senseless and purposeless round of short +imprisonments, simply because they are not quite as big and as +strong as their fellows, fills me with wonder and dismay, for I +can estimate some of the consequences that result. + +Is it impossible, I would ask, for our Government to take up this +matter in a really great way? Can no arrangement be made with +our colonies for the reception and training of these young +fellows? Probably not so long as the colonies can secure an +abundance of better human material. But has a bona-fide effort +been made in this direction? I much doubt it since the days of +transportation. + +Is it not possible for our Government to obtain somewhere in the +whole of its empire a sufficiency of suitable land, to which the +best of them may be transplanted, and on which they may be +trained for useful service and continuous work? + +Is it not possible to develop the family system for them, and +secure a sufficient number of house fathers and mothers to care +for them in a domestic way, leaving their physical and industrial +training to others? Very few know these young fellows better +than myself, and I am bold enough to say that under such +conditions the majority of them would prove useful men. + +Surely a plan of this description would be infinitely better than +continued imprisonments for miserable offences, and much less +expensive, too! + +I am very anxious to emphasise this point. The extent of our +prison population depends upon the treatment these young men +receive at the hands of the State. + +So long as the present treatment prevails, so long will the State +be assured of a permanent prison population. + +But the evil does not end with the continuance and expense of +prison. The army of the unfit is perpetually increased by this +procedure. Very few of these young men--I think I may say with +safety, none of them--after three or four convictions become +settled and decent citizens; for they cannot if they would, there +is no opportunity. They would not if they could, for the desire +is no longer existent. + +We have already preventive detention for older persons, who, +having been four times convicted of serious crime, are proved to +be "habitual criminals." But hopeless as the older criminals +are, the country is quite willing to adopt such measures and bear +such expense as may be thought requisite for the purpose of +detaining, and perchance reforming them. + +But the young men for whom I now plead are a hundred times more +numerous and a hundred times more hopeful than the old habitual +criminals, whose position excites so much attention. We must +have an oversea colony for these young men, and an Act of +Parliament for the "preventive detention" of young offenders who +are repeatedly convicted. + +A third conviction should ensure every homeless offender the +certainty of committal to the colony. This would stop for ever +the senseless short imprisonment system, for we could keep them +free of prison till their third conviction, when they should only +be detained pending arrangement for their emigration. + +The more I think upon this matter the more firmly I am convinced +that nothing less will prevail. Though, of course, even with +this plan, the young men who are hopelessly afflicted with +disease or deformity must be excluded. For them the State must +make provision at home, but not in prison. + +A scheme of this character, if once put into active and thorough +operation, would naturally work itself out, for year by year the +number of young fellows to whom it would apply would grow less +and less; but while working itself out, it would also work out +the salvation of many young men, and bring lasting benefits upon +our country. + +Vagrancy, with its attendant evils, would be greatly diminished, +many prisons would be closed, workhouses and casual wards would +be less necessary. The cost of the scheme would be more than +repaid to the community by the savings effected in other ways. +The moral effect also would be equally large, and the physical +effects would be almost past computing, for it would do much to +arrest the decay of the race that appears inseparable from our +present conditions and procedure. + +But the State must do something more than this; for many young +habitual offenders are too young for emigration. For them the +State reformatories must be established, regardless of their +physical condition. To these reformatories magistrates must have +the power of committal as certainly as they have the power of +committal to prison. There must be no "by your leave," no +calling in a doctor to examine the offender. But promptly and +certainly when circumstances justify the committal to a State +reformatory, the youthful offender should go. With the certainty +that, be his physique and intellect what they may, he would be +detained, corrected and trained for some useful life. Or, if +found "quite unfit" or feeble-minded, sent to an institution +suitable to his condition. + +Older criminals, when proved to be mentally unsound, are detained +in places other than prisons till their health warrants +discharge. But the potential criminals among the young, no +matter how often they are brought before the courts, are either +sent back to hopeless liberty or thrust into prison for a brief +period. + +I repeat that philanthropy cannot attempt to deal with the +habitual offenders, either in the days of their boyhood or in +their early manhood. For philanthropy can at the most deal with +but a few, and those few must be of the very best. + +I cannot believe that our colonies would refuse to ratify the +arrangement that I have outlined, if they were invited to do so +by our own Government, and given proper security. They owe us +something; we called them into existence, we guarantee their +safety, they receive our grit, blood and money; will they not +receive, then, under proper conditions and safeguards, some of +our surplus youth, even if it be weak? I believe they will! + +In the strictures that I have ventured to pass upon the methods +of the Salvation Army, I wish it to be distinctly understood that +I make no attack upon the character and intentions of the men and +women who compose it. I know that they are both earnest and +sincere. For many of them I have a great admiration. My +strictures refer to the methods and the methods only. + +For long years I have been watchful of results, and I have been +so placed in life that I have had plenty of opportunities for +seeing and learning. My disappointment has been great, for I +expected great things. Many other men and women whose judgment +is entitled to respect believe as I do. But they remain silent, +hoping that after all great good may come. But I must speak, for +I believe the methods adopted are altogether unsound, and in +reality tend to aggravate the evils they set out to cure. In +1900 I ventured to express the following opinion of shelters-- + +"EXTRACTS FROM 'PICTURES AND PROBLEMS ' + +"I look with something approaching dismay at the multiplication +of these institutions throughout the length and breadth of our +land. To the loafing vagrant class, a very large class, I know, +but a class not worthy of much consideration, they are a boon. +These men tramp from one town to another, and a week or two in +each suits them admirably, till the warm weather and light nights +arrive, and then they are off. + +"This portion of the 'submerged' will always be submerged till +some power takes hold of them and compels them to work out their +own salvation. + +"But there is such a procession of them that the labour homes, +etc., get continual recruits, and the managers are enabled to +contract for a great deal of unskilled work. + +"In all our large towns there are numbers of self-respecting men, +men who have committed no crime, save the unpardonable crime of +growing old. Time was when such men could get odd clerical work, +envelope and circular addressing, and a variety of light but +irregular employment, at which, by economy and the help of their +wives, they made a sort of living. But these men are now driven +to the wall, for their poorly paid and irregular work is taken +from them." + +In 1911 A. M. Nicholl, in his not unfriendly book on GENERAL +BOOTH AND THE SALVATION ARMY, makes the following statement, +which I make no apology for reproducing. + +His judgment, considering the position he held with the Army for +so many years, is worthy of consideration. Here are some of his +words-- + +"From an economic standpoint the social experiment of the +Salvation Army stands condemned almost root and branch. So much +the worse for economics, the average Salvation Army officer will +reply. But at the end of twenty years the Army cannot point to +one single cause of social distress that it has removed, or to +one single act which it has promoted that has dealt a death-blow +at one social evil.... + +"A more serious question, one which lies at the root of all +indiscriminate charity, is the value to the community of these +shelters. So far as the men in the shelters are benefited by +them, they do not elevate them, either physically or morally. A +proportion--what proportion?--are weeded out, entirely by the +voluntary action of the men themselves, and given temporary work, +carrying sandwich-boards, addressing envelopes, sorting paper, +etc.; but the cause of their social dilapidation remains +unaltered. They enter the shelter, pay their twopence or +fourpence as the case may be (and few are allowed to enter unless +they do), they listen to some moral advice once a week, with +which they are surfeited inside and outside the shelter, they go +to bed, and next morning leave the shelter to face the streets as +they came in, The shelter gets no nearer to the cause of their +depravity than it does to the economic cause of their failure, or +to the economic remedy which the State must eventually +introduce.... + +"The nomads of our civilisation wander past us in their fringy, +dirty attire night by night. If a man stops us in the streets +and tells us that he is starving, and we offer him a ticket to a +labour home or a night shelter, he will tell you that the chances +are one out of ten if he will procure admission. The better +class of the submerged, or those who use the provision for the +submerged in order to gratify their own selfishness, have taken +possession of the vacancies, and so they wander on. If a man +applies for temporary work, the choice of industry is +disappointingly limited. One is tempted to think that the whole +superstructure of cheap and free shelters has tended to the +standardisation of a low order of existence in this netherworld +that attracted the versatile philanthropist at the head of the +Salvation Army twenty years ago.... + +"The general idea about the Salvation Army is, that the nearer it +gets to the most abandoned classes, the more wonderful and the +more numerous are the converts. It is a sad admission to pass on +to the world that the opposite is really the case. The results +are fewer. General Booth would almost break his heart if he knew +the proportion of men who have been 'saved,' in the sense that he +most values, through his social scheme. But he ought to know, +and the Church and the world ought to know, and in order that it +may I will make bold to say that the officials cannot put their +hands on the names of a thousand men in all parts of the world +who are to-day members of the Army who were converted at the +penitent form of shelters and elevators, who are now earning a +living outside the control of the Army's social work." + +But the public appear to have infinite faith in the +multiplication and enlargement of these shelters, as the +following extract from a daily paper of December 1911 will show-- + +"'Since the days of Mahomet, not forgetting St. Francis and +Martin Luther, I doubt if there is any man who has started, +without help from the Government, such a world-wide movement as +this.' + +"This was Sir George Askwith's tribute to General Booth and the +Salvation Army at the opening of the new wing of the men's +Elevators in Spa Road, Bermondsey, yesterday afternoon. The task +of declaring the wing open devolved upon the Duke of Argyll, who +had beside him on the platform the Duchess of Marlborough, Lady +St. Davids, Lord Armstrong, Sir Daniel and Lady Hamilton, +Alderman Sir Charles C. Wakefield, Sir Edward Clarke, K.C., Sir +George Askwith, and the Mayor of Bermondsey and General Booth. + +"The General, who is just back from Denmark, spoke for three- +quarters of an hour, notwithstanding his great age and his +admission that he was 'far from well.' The Elevator, as its name +implies, seeks to raise men who are wholly destitute and give +them a fresh start. The new wing has been erected at a cost of +L10,000, and the Elevator, which accommodates 590 men and covers +two-and-a-half acres, represents an expenditure of L30,000, and +is the largest institution of its kind in the world. + +"'The men,' said the General, 'are admitted on two conditions +only, that they are willing to obey orders, and ready to work. +Before he has his breakfast a man must earn it, and the same with +each meal, the ticket given him entitling him to remuneration in +proportion to the work he has done. If the men's conduct is +good, they are passed on to another of the Army's institutions, +and ultimately some post is secured for them through the +employers of labour with whom the Army is in touch.'" + +I believe General Booth to be sincere, and that he believes +exactly what he stated. But even sincerity must not be allowed +to mislead a generous public. Employers of labour do not, +cannot, and will not keep positions open for General Booth or any +other man. Employers require strong, healthy men who can give +value for the wages paid. Thousands of men who have never +entered shelters or prison are not only available but eager for +positions that show any prospect of permanence, whether the work +be heavy or skilled. For work that requires neither brains, +skill or much physical strength, thousands of men whose +characters are good are also available. I venture to say that +General Booth cannot supply the public with a reasonable list of +men who, having passed through the shelters, have been put into +permanent work. + +For every man and woman who is seeking to uplift their fellows I +have heartfelt sympathy. For every organisation that is +earnestly seeking to alleviate or remove social evils I wish +abundant success. Against the organisations named I have not the +slightest feeling. If they were successful in the work they +undertake, no one in England would rejoice more than myself. But +they are not successful, and because I believe that their claim +to success blinds a well-intentioned and generous public, and +prevents real consideration of deep-seated evils, I make these +comments and give the above extracts. + +I question whether any one in London knows better than myself the +difficulty of finding employment for a man who is "down," for I +have written hundreds of letters, I have visited numerous +employers for this one purpose; I have begged and pleaded with +employers, sometimes I have offered "security" for the honesty of +men for whom I was concerned. + +Occasionally, but only occasionally, was I successful. I have +advertised on men's behalf frequently, but nothing worthy of the +name of "work" has resulted. I know the mind of employers, and I +know their difficulties; I have been too often in touch with them +not to know. I have also been in touch with many men who have +been in the shelters, elevators, bridges, labour homes and tents; +I know their experience has been one of disappointment. I have +written on behalf of such men to the "head-quarters," but nothing +has resulted but a few days' work at wood-chopping, envelope +addressing, or bill distributing, none of which can be called +employment. + +Day after day men who have been led to expect work wait, and wait +in vain, in or about the head-quarters for the promised work. +that so rarely comes. For these men I am concerned, for them I +am bold enough to risk the censure of good people, for I hold +that it is not only cruel, but wicked to excite in homeless men +hopes that cannot possibly be realised. + +This point has been driven home to my very heart, for I have seen +what comes to pass when the spark of hope is extinguished. +Better, far better, that a man who is "down " should trust to his +own exertions and rely upon himself than entertain illusions and +rely upon others. + +And now I close by presenting in catalogue form some of the steps +that I believe to be necessary for dealing with the terrible +problems of our great underworld. + +First: the permanent detention and segregation of all who are +classified as feeble-minded. Second: the permanent detention +and segregation of all professional tramps. Third: proper +provision for men and women who are hopelessly crippled or +disabled. Fourth: establishment by the educational authorities, +or by the State of reformatory schools, for youthful delinquents +and juvenile adults regardless of physical weakness, deprivations +or disease. Fifth: compulsory education, physical, mental and +technical, up to sixteen years of age. Sixth: the establishment +of municipal play-grounds and organised play for youths who have +left school. Seventh: national and State-aided emigration to +include the best of the "unfit." Eighth: the abolition of +common lodging-houses, and the establishment of municipal +lodging-houses for men and also for women. Ninth: the +establishment of trade boards for all industries. Tenth: proper +and systematic help for widows who have young children. +Eleventh: thorough inspection and certification by local +authorities of all houses and "dwellings" inhabited by the poor. +Twelfth: housing for the very poor by municipal authorities, +with abolition of fire-places, the heating to be provided from +one central source. The housing to include a restaurant where +nourishing but simple food may be obtained for payment that +ensures a small profit. Thirteenth: more abundant and +reasonable provision of work by the State, local authorities and +for the unemployed. Fourteenth: a co-ordination of all +philanthropic and charity agencies to form one great society with +branches in every parish. + +Give us these things, and surely they are not impossible, and +half our present expensive difficulties would disappear. Fewer +prisons, workhouses and hospitals would be required. The need +for shelters and labour homes would not exist. The necessity for +the activities of many charitable agencies whose constant appeals +are so disturbing and puzzling, but whose work is now required, +would pass away too. + +But with all these things given, there would be still great need +for the practice of kindness and the development of brotherly +love. For without brotherly love and kindly human interest, laws +are but cast-iron rules, and life but a living death. What is +life worth? What can life be worth if it be only self-centred? +To love is to live! to feel and take an interest in others is to +be happy indeed, and to feel the pulses thrill. + +And I am sure that love is abundant in our old country, but it is +largely paralysed and mystified. For many objects that love +would fain accomplish appear stupendous and hopeless. What a +different old England we might have, if the various and hopeless +classes that I have enumerated were permanently detained. For +then love would come to its own, the real misfortunes of life +would then form a passport to practical help. Widows would no +longer be unceremoniously kicked into the underworld; accidents +and disablements would no longer condemn men and women to live +lives of beggary. Best of all, charitable and kindly deeds would +no longer be done by proxy. It is because I see how professional +and contented beggary monopolises so much effort and costs so +much money; because I see how it deprives the really unfortunate +and the suffering poor of the practical help that would to them +be such a blessed boon, that I am anxious for its days to be +ended. May that day soon come, for when it comes, there will be +some chance of love and justice obtaining deliverance for the +oppressed and deserving poor who abound in London's dark +underworld. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext of London's Underworld, by Thomas Holmes + diff --git a/old/old/lndwd10.zip b/old/old/lndwd10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..72bb084 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/lndwd10.zip |