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} - -/* Poetry indents */ -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -1em;} -.poetry .indent12 {text-indent: 5em;} -.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: 0em;} -.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: 1em;} - - </style> -</head> - -<!--End stylesheet--> - -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Practicable Socialism, by Samuel Augustus Barnett and Henrietta Octavia Barnett</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<table style='margin-left:0; border-collapse:collapse'> - <tr><td>Title:</td><td>Practicable Socialism</td></tr> - <tr><td></td><td>Essays on Social Reform</td></tr> -</table> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Samuel Augustus Barnett and Henrietta Octavia Barnett</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 11, 2021 [eBook #64263]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Fay Dunn, Neil Mercer and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRACTICABLE SOCIALISM ***</div> - -<!--Cover--> - -<div class="figcenter w50"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Practicable Socialism: Essays on Social Reform, by Rev. and Mrs. S. A. Barnett" class="w100" /> -</div> - -<div class="tnbox"> -<p class="sp2 center">The cover image was created by the transcriber, -and is in the public domain.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_i"></a>i</span></p> - -<!--Half-title--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="noindent sp4"> -<p class="center vertsp fs125">ESSAYS<br /> - <span class="fs70">ON</span><br /> - SOCIAL REFORM</p> -</div> - -<!--Boxed advert--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ii"></a>ii</span></p> - -<div class="box sp4 noindentcenter"> - -<p class="fs80"><i>Crown 8vo, price 5s.</i></p> - -<p class="sp1 fs125">AN INQUIRY INTO SOCIALISM.</p> - -<p class="sp1"> - <span class="sc">By</span> THOMAS KIRKUP,<br /> - <span class="fs80"><i>Author of the Article on ‘Socialism’ in the ‘Encyclopædia Britannica.’</i></span> -</p> - -<hr class="hr25" /> - -<div class="yesindent"> -<p class="justify fs90">‘A very thoughtful and sympathetic study of the modern socialistic -movement, with the history of which the author has a very thorough -acquaintance.’—<span class="sc">Contemporary Review.</span> -</p> - -<p class="sp1 justify fs90">‘We have no hesitation in describing this as the clearest statement we -have read of the aims and methods of Socialism.’—<span class="sc">Westminster Review.</span> -</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="hr25" /> - -<p>London: LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.</p> - -</div> - -<!--Title page--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="vertsp noindentcenter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iii"></a>iii</span></p> -<h1 class="center sp2">PRACTICABLE SOCIALISM<br /> - <span class="fs70 italics">ESSAYS ON SOCIAL REFORM</span> -</h1> - -<p class="sp2 fs80">BY THE</p> - -<p class="sp1">REV.<span class="allsmcap"> AND </span>MRS. SAMUEL A. BARNETT</p> - -<p class="sp2 fs80">LONDON<br /> - <span class="gesperrt2 fs110">LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.</span><br /> - AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16<sup>th</sup> STREET<br /> - 1888 -</p> - -<p class="sp2 fs75"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> - -</div> - -<!--Printers--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iv"></a>iv</span></p> - -<p class="center fs80 vertsp">PRINTED BY<br /> - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br /> - LONDON</p> - -<!--Introduction--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_v"></a>v</span></p> -<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter w40"> - <img src="images/dec4.jpg" alt="Decorative rule" class="w40" /> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">The</span> following Essays have been written at different -intervals during our fifteen years’ residence in East -London. They were written out of the fulness of the -moment with a view of giving a voice to some need of -which we had become conscious. They do not, therefore, -pretend to set forth any system for dealing with -the social problem; they are simply the voice of the dumb -poor, of whose mind it has been our privilege to get -some understanding. They are published now in response -to the requests of many to whom they have been -some guide in the ways of service, and in the hope -that the experience they offer may bring rich and poor -together. It will be noticed that two or three great -principles underlie all the reforms for which we ask. -The equal capacity of all to enjoy the best, the superiority -of quiet ways over those of striving and crying, character -as the one thing needful are the truths with which we -have become familiar, and on these truths we take our -stand. Although the Essays do not pretend to form a -connected whole, it will be seen that their arrangement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vi"></a>vi</span> -is subject to some order. Those placed first set forth -the poverty of the poor. Those which follow suggest -some means by which such poverty may be met (1) -by individual and (2) by united action, with some of the -dangers to which charitable effort seems to be liable. -As we look back over the experience which these Essays -recall, we are conscious of shortcomings and failure, but -they are due to our own want of wisdom and of faith, -and we still believe that God’s will may be done on earth -as it is in heaven, and that the doing of His will means -at last health and wealth. Each Essay is signed by -the writer, but in either case they represent our common -thought, as all that has been done represents our -common work.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Samuel A. Barnett and Henrietta O. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class="sp1 fs80"><span class="sc">St. Jude’s, Whitechapel</span>: <i>May 1888</i>.</p> - -<!--Contents--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vii"></a>vii</span></p> - <h2>CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter w40"> - <img src="images/dec4.jpg" alt="Decorative rule" class="w40" /> -</div> - -<table class="toc" summary="Contents"> -<colgroup> -<col width="6%" /> -<col width="6%" /> -<col width="82%" /> -<col width="5%" /> -</colgroup> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2"> </td> - <td class="toccol2"> </td> - <td class="toccol3 fs75">PAGE</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="1">I.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">The Poverty of the Poor.</span> By <span class="sc">Mrs. S. A. Barnett</span> - (July 1886)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_1" title="Go to Page 1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="2">II.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">Relief Funds and the Poor.</span> By <span class="sc">Rev. S. A. - Barnett</span> (Nov. 1886)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_22" title="Go to Page 22">22</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="3">III.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">Passionless Reformers.</span> By <span class="sc">Mrs. S. A. Barnett</span> - (August 1882)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_48" title="Go to Page 48">48</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="4">IV.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">Town Councils and Social Reform.</span> By <span class="sc">Rev. S. A. - Barnett</span> (Nov. 1883)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_62" title="Go to Page 62">62</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="5">V.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">‘At Home’ to the Poor.</span> By <span class="sc">Mrs. S. A. Barnett</span> - (May 1881)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_76" title="Go to Page 76">76</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="6">VI.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">University Settlements.</span> By <span class="sc">Rev. S. A. Barnett</span> - (Feb. 1884)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_96" title="Go to Page 96">96</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="7">VII.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">Pictures for the People.</span> By <span class="sc">Mrs. S. A. Barnett</span> - (March 1883)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_109" title="Go to Page 109">109</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="8">VIII.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">The Young Women in our Workhouses.</span> By <span class="sc">Mrs. - S. A. Barnett</span> (Aug. 1879)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_126" title="Go to Page 126">126</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="9">IX.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">A People’s Church.</span> By <span class="sc">Rev. S. A. Barnett</span> (Nov. - 1884) </td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_142" title="Go to Page 142">142</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="10">X.</abbr><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_viii"></a>viii</span></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">Charitable Effort.</span> By <span class="sc">Mrs. S. A. Barnett</span> (Feb. - 1884)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_157" title="Go to Page 157">157</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="11">XI.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">Sensationalism in Social Reform.</span> By <span class="sc">Rev. S. A. - Barnett</span> (Feb. 1886)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_173" title="Go to Page 173">173</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="12">XII.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">Practicable Socialism.</span> By <span class="sc">Rev. S. A. Barnett</span> - (April 1883)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_191" title="Go to Page 191">191</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="toccol1"> </td> - <td class="toccol2a"><abbr title="13">XIII.</abbr></td> - <td class="toccol2"><span class="sc">The Work of Righteousness.</span> By <span class="sc">Rev. S. A. - Barnett</span> (Nov. 1887)</td> - <td class="toccol3"><a href="#Page_204" title="Go to Page 204">204</a></td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<!--Chapter 1--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>1</span> - <h2>PRACTICABLE SOCIALISM.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter w40"> - <img src="images/dec4.jpg" alt="Decorative rule" class="w40" /> -</div> - -<h2 title="I. THE POVERTY OF THE POOR." id="ch01"><abbr title="1">I.</abbr><br /> <br /> -<i>THE POVERTY OF THE POOR.</i><a id="r11" href="#f11" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> - -<div class="footnote" id="f11"> -<p><a href="#r11" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> Reprinted, by permission, from the <cite>National Review</cite> of July 1886.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">It</span> is useless to imagine that the nation is wealthier -because in one column of the newspaper we read an -account of a sumptuous ball or of the luxury of a City -dinner if in another column there is the story of ‘death -from starvation.’ It is folly, and worse than folly, to -say that our nation is religious because we meet her -thousands streaming out of the fashionable churches, so -long as workhouse schools and institutions are the only -homes open to her orphan children and homeless waifs. -The nation does not consist of one class only; the nation -is the whole, the wealthy and the wise, the poor and -the ignorant. Statistics, however flattering, do not tell -the whole truth about increased national prosperity, or -about progress in development, if there is a pauper class -constantly increasing, or a criminal class gaining its -recruits from the victims of poverty.</p> - -<p>The nation, like the individual, is set in the midst of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>2</span> -many and great dangers, and, after the need of education -and religion has been allowed, it will be agreed that -all other defences are vain if it be impossible for the -men and women and children of our vast city population -to reach the normal standard of robustness.</p> - -<p>The question then arises, Why cannot and does -not each man, woman, and child attain to the normal -standard of robustness? The answers to this question -would depend as much on the answerer as they do in the -game of ‘Old Soldier.’ The teetotallers would reply that -drink was the cause, but against this sweeping assertion -I should like to give my testimony, and it has been my -privilege to live in close friendship and neighbourhood of -the working classes for nearly half my life. Much has -been said about the drinking habits of the poor, and -the rich have too often sheltered themselves from -the recognition of the duties which their wealth has -imposed on them by the declaration that the poor are -unhelpable while they drink as they do. But the working -classes, as a rule, do not drink. There are, undoubtedly, -thousands of men, and, alas! unhappy women too, who -seek the pleasure, or the oblivion, to be obtained by alcohol; -but drunkenness is not the rule among the working -classes, and, while honouring the work of the teetotallers, -who give themselves up to the reclamation of the drunken, -I cannot agree with them in their answer to the question. -Drink is not the main cause why the national defence to -be found in robust health is in such a defective condition.</p> - -<p>Land reformers, socialists, co-operators, democrats -would, in their turn, each provide an answer to our -question; but, if examined, the root of each would be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>3</span> -the same—in one word, it is Poverty, and this means -scarcity of food.</p> - -<p>Let us now go into the kitchen and try and provide, -with such knowledge as dietetic science has given us, for -a healthily hungry family of eight children and father -and mother. We must calculate that the man requires -20 oz. of solid food per day, i.e. 16 oz. of carbonaceous -or strength-giving food and 4 oz. of nitrogenous or flesh-forming -food. (The army regulations allow 25 oz. a day, -and our soldiers are recently declared on high authority to -be underfed.) The woman should eat 12 oz. of carbonaceous -and 3 oz. of nitrogenous food; though if she is doing -much rough, hard work, such as all the cooking, cleaning, -washing of a family of eight children necessitate, she -would probably need another ounce per day of the flesh-repairing -foods. For the children, whose ages may vary -from four to thirteen, it would be as well to estimate -that they would each require 8 oz. of carbonaceous and -2 oz. of nitrogenous food per day: in all, 92 of carbonaceous -and 23 oz. of nitrogenous foods per day.<a id="r12" href="#f12" class="fnanchor" title="Go to Footnote 2">[2]</a></p> - -<div class="footnote" id="f12"> - -<p><a href="#r12" class="label" title="Return to text">2</a>To those -who have had experience of children’s appetites it may -seem as if their daily food had been under-estimated. A growing lad of -eleven or twelve will often eat more than his mother, but the eight -children, being of various ages, will probably eat together about this -quantity, and it is better, perhaps, to under- than over-state their requirements.</p> - -</div> - -<p>For the breakfast of the family we will provide oatmeal -porridge with a pennyworth of treacle and another -pennyworth of tinned milk. For dinner they can have -Irish stew, with 1¼ lb. of meat among the ten, a pennyworth -of rice, and an addition of twopennyworth of -bread to obtain the necessary quantity of strength-giving -nutriment. For tea we can manage coffee and bread, -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>4</span>but with no butter and not even sugar for the children; -and yet, simple fare as this is, it will have cost 2<i>s.</i> 5<i>d.</i> -to feed the whole family and to obtain for them a -sufficient quantity of strength-giving food, and even at -this expenditure they have not been able to get that -amount of nitrogenous food which is necessary for the -maintenance of robust health.</p> - -<p>A little table of exact cost and quantities might not -be uninteresting:—</p> - -<table class="foodtable fs85 sp2" summary="Table of cost and nutrition content for typical meals"> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tvpad"> Quantity of Food </th> -<th class="tdc"> Cost </th> -<th class="tdc"> Carbon-<br />aceous </th> -<th class="tdc"> Nitro-<br />genous </th> -</tr> - -<tr class="tbordertop tbottom"> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc"> Breakfast—Oatmeal<br /> - Porridge.</span> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad1 sd"> <i>s.</i> <i>d.</i> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1¼ lb. Oatmeal </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 14 </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3 </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ pint Tinned Milk </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1 </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ lb. Treacle </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 7 </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> — </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Dinner—Irish Stew.</span> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1¼ lb. Meat </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 8 </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3½ </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 4 lb. Potatoes </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 14 </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2 </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1¼ lb. Onions </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1 </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 5½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¼ </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> A few Carrots </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1 </td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> — </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ lb. Rice </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1 </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 7 </td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½ </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ lb. Bread </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 13½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼ </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Tea—Bread and Coffee.</span> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ lb. Bread </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¾ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 22½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¾ </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ oz. Coffee </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼ </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05 tbpad"> 1½ pint Tinned Milk </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4 tbpad"> 1½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4 tbpad"> 2¼ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4 tbpad"> 1 </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc tvpad"> Total </td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad1 sd"> 2 5 </td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 92 </td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 18½ </td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<p class="sp2">But note that the requisite quantities for the whole -family are 92 oz. of carbonaceous and 23 oz. of nitrogenous -substances.</p> - -<p>Another day we might provide them with cocoa and -bread for breakfast; lentil soup and toasted cheese for -dinner; and rice pudding and bread for tea; but this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>5</span> -fare presupposes a certain knowledge of cooking, which -but few of the poor possess, as well as an acquaintance -with the dietetic properties of food, which, at present, is -far removed from even the most intelligent. This day’s -fare compares favourably with yesterday’s meals in the -matter of cost, being 2½<i>d.</i> cheaper, but it does not provide -enough carbonaceous food, though it does not fall -far short of the necessary 23 oz. of nitrogenous substances.</p> - -<table class="foodtable fs85 sp2" summary="Table of cost and nutrition content for typical meals"> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tvpad"> Quantity of Food </th> -<th class="tdc"> Cost </th> -<th class="tdc"> Carbon-<br />aceous </th> -<th class="tdc"> Nitro-<br />genous </th> -</tr> - -<tr class="tbordertop tbottom"> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Breakfast—Bread and<br />Cocoa.</span> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad1 sd"> <i>s.</i> <i>d.</i> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 22½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ oz. Cocoa</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1 pint Tinned Milk</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2 oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Dinner—Lentil Soup,<br />Toasted Cheese.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ lb. Lentils</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 15</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 6</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1 lb. Cheese</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 8</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 4½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 5½</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 13½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Tea—Rice Pudding and<br />Bread.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ¾ lb. Rice</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 10½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ pint Tinned Milk</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -<td class="tdr lpad4"> 1</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2 oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdr lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05 tbpad"> 1½ lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4 tbpad"> 2¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3 tbpad"> 13½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4 tbpad"> 2¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc tvpad"> Total </td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad1 sd"> 2 1½</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 86½</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 22¼</td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<p class="sp2">And how drear and uninteresting is this food compared -to that on which people of another class normally -live! No refreshing cups of afternoon tea; no pleasant -fruit to give interest to the meal. Nothing but dull, -keep-me-alive sort of food, and not enough of that to -fulfil all Nature’s requirements.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>6</span></p> - -<p>But let us take another day’s meals, which can -consist of hominy, milk, and sugar for breakfast; potato -soup and apple-and-sago pudding for dinner; and fish -and bread for tea; when fish is plentiful enough to be -obtained at 3<i>d.</i> a pound, and when apples are to be got -at 1½<i>d.</i> a pound, which economical housekeepers know is -not often the case in London.</p> - - -<table class="foodtable fs85 sp2" summary="Table of cost and nutrition content for typical meals"> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tvpad"> Quantity of Food </th> -<th class="tdc"> Cost </th> -<th class="tdc"> Carbon-<br />aceous </th> -<th class="tdc"> Nitro-<br />genous </th> -</tr> - -<tr class="tbordertop tbottom"> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Breakfast—Hominy, Milk,<br />Sugar.</span> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad1 sd"> <i>s.</i> <i>d.</i> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ lb. Hominy</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 17¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 3¼ pints Tinned Milk</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 4½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 6 oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 4¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Dinner—Potato Soup and<br />Apple-and-Sago Pudding.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 5 lbs. Potatoes</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 17½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2½</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ pint Tinned Milk</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 3 oz. Rice</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 3 oz. Dripping</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ lb. Apples</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 5</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 6 oz. Sago</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 6 oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 4</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Tea—Fish and Bread.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ lb. Fish</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 7½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 7½</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2 lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 18</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ pint Tinned Milk</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05 tbpad"> 3 oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5 tbpad"> ½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4 tbpad"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4 tbpad"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc tvpad"> Total </td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad1 sd"> 2 5</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 86</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 23½</td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<p class="sp2">Again, however, we have spent 2<i>s.</i> 5<i>d.</i> on food, and -even now have not got quite sufficient strength-giving or -carbonaceous food.</p> - -<p>An average of 2<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> spent daily on food makes a -total of 16<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> at the week’s end, leaving the labourer -earning his 1<i>l.</i> a week 3<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> with which to pay rent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>7</span> -(and decent accommodation of two rooms in London cannot -be had for less than 5<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> or 6<i>s.</i> a week); to obtain -schooling and lighting; to buy coals, clothes, and boots; -to bear the expense of breakages and necessary replacements; -to subscribe to a club against sickness or death; -and to meet the doctor’s bills for the children’s illnesses -or the wife’s confinements. How is it possible? Can -3<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> do so much? No, it cannot; and so food is -stinted. The children have to put up with less than -they need; the mother ‘goes without sooner than let -the children suffer,’ and thus the new baby is born -weakly and but half-nourished; the children develop -greediness in their never-satisfied and but partly fed -frames; and the father, too often insufficiently sustained, -seeks alcohol, which, anyhow, seems to ‘pick him up and -hold him together,’ though his teetotal mates assure him -it is only a delusion.</p> - -<p>And this is no fancy picture. I have now in my mind -one Wilkins, a steady, rough, honest, sober labourer, -fairly intelligent, and the father of thirteen children. -The two eldest, girls of fourteen and fifteen, are already -out at service; but the eleven younger, being under age, -are still kept at school and supported by their father. -He earns 1<i>l.</i> regularly. They rent the whole house at -12<i>s.</i> a week, and, letting off part, stand themselves at a -weekly rent of 5<i>s.</i> for three small rooms. Less than that, -as the mother says, ‘I could not nohow do with, what -with all the washing for such a heavy family, and bathing -the little ones, and him coming home tired of an evening, -and needing a place to sit down in.’ The wife is a decent -body, but rough and uncultured; and as she is ignorant -of the proper proportions of nitrogenous and carbonaceous<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>8</span> -substance necessary for the preservation of healthy -life, as well as of the kinds of food in which they can be -best found, she feeds her family even less nutritiously -than she could do if she were better informed. Still the -whole wage could only feed them if it were all expended -ever so wisely, leaving no margin for the requirements -already mentioned.</p> - -<p>Take Mrs. Marshall’s family and circumstances. Mrs. -Marshall is, to all intents and purposes, a widow, her -husband being in an asylum. She herself is a superior -woman, tall and handsome, and with clean dapper ways -and a slight hardness of manner that comes from bitter -disappointment and hopeless struggling. She has four -children, two of whom have been taken by the Poor Law -authorities into their district schools—a better plan than -giving out-door relief, but, at the same time, one that -has the disadvantage of removing the little ones from the -home influence of a very good mother. Mrs. Marshall -herself, after vainly trying to get work, was taken as a -scrubber at a public institution, where she earns 9<i>s.</i> a -week and her dinner. She works from six in the morning -till five at night, and then returns to her fireless, -cheerless room to find her two children back from school -and ready for their chief meal; for during her absence -their breakfast and dinner can only have consisted of -bread and cold scraps. We will not dwell on the hardship -of having to turn to and light the fire, tidy the -room, and prepare the meal after having already done -ten hours’ scrubbing or washing. The financial question -is now before us, and to that we will confine our -thoughts. Out of her 9<i>s.</i> a week Mrs. Marshall pays -3<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i> for rent; 2<i>d.</i> for schooling; 1<i>s.</i> for light and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>9</span> -firing (and this does not allow of the children having a -morning fire before they go to school); 9<i>d.</i> she puts by -for boots and clothing; and imagine what it must be to -dress, so as to keep warm, three people on 1<i>l.</i> 19<i>s.</i> a -year! and 6<i>d.</i> she pays for her bits of washing, for she -cannot do them herself after all her heavy daily work. -(Pause, though, for a moment to consider how Mrs. -Marshall’s washerwoman must work when she does three -changes of linen, aprons, sheets, and a table-cloth for -6<i>d.</i> a week.)</p> - -<p>Deduct from the 9<i>s.</i> weekly wage—</p> - - -<table class="spendtable center sp2 fs85" summary="Items of weekly spending"> -<tr> -<th class="tdl"></th> -<th class="tdr"><i>s.</i> <i>d.</i></th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl rpad8">Rent</td> -<td class="tdr">3 3</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl rpad8">Schooling</td> -<td class="tdr">2</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Firing</td> -<td class="tdr">1 0</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Clothes</td> -<td class="tdr">9</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl tbpad">Washing</td> -<td class="tdr tbpad">6</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl tvpad"></td> -<td class="tdr tvpad tbordertop">5 8</td> -</tr> - -</table> - - -<div class="noindent"> -<p class="sp1">and 3<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> is left with which to provide breakfast and -tea for a hard-working woman for seven days in the -week, dinner for Sunday, and three meals daily for two -growing children of ten and eleven. We have seen how, -even with economy, knowledge, strength, and time, proper -food cannot be obtained for less than 1<i>d.</i> or 1¼<i>d.</i> a meal, -and this would make a weekly total of 5<i>s.</i> 11¼<i>d.</i> 3<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i>, -with no time, with little knowledge, and only the remnants -of strength, which has been used up in earning the 3<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i>, -is all Mrs. Marshall has with which to meet these requirements.</p> -</div> - -<p>And how do the rich look on these facts? ‘Well! -nine shillings a week is very fair wage for an unskilled -working woman,’ was the remark I heard after I had told<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>10</span> -these facts to mine host at a country house, where we -were eating the usual regulation dinner—soup, fish, -<i>entrée</i>, joint, game, sweets, and hot-house fruits, said with -the complacency of satisfaction which follows a glass of -good wine. ‘Yes, about the cost of your one dinner’s -wine!’ replied one of the guests; but then he was -probably one of those ill-balanced people who judge -people by what they are rather than by what they have, -and he may have thought that the sad, lone woman, -with her noble virtues of industry, patience, and self-sacrificing -love, had, despite her hard manners, more -right to the good things of this world than the suave old -man owning fourteen acres of lawn on which no children -ever played, and stating, without shame, first, the fact -that he used eighty-two tons of coal yearly to warm his -own sitting-rooms, and then the opinion that 9<i>s.</i> a week -was <em>fair</em> wage on which to support a good woman and -bring up two children.</p> - -<p>While this wage is considered a ‘fair wage,’ the -children must remain half-nourished, and grow up incapable -of honest toil and valuable effort. While this -wage is accepted as a right and normal thing, it is useless -to think that the nation will be guided through dangers -by means of heavy subscriptions to schools, to hospitals, -and sick-asylums. Robust health is impossible; so -disease easily finds a home, and teachers vainly try to -develop brains ill supplied with blood. By the doorway -of semi-starvation disease is invited to enter and find a -home among the masses of our wage-earning people.</p> - -<p>Before me are the dietary tables of the Whitechapel -Workhouse—an institution which stands (thanks to -the self-devotion of its able Clerk) high on the list for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>11</span> -careful management and economical administration. -There are congregated the aged and infirm paupers, -and among them are some of Nature’s gentlefolk, the old -and tired, who, having learnt a few of life’s greatest -lessons in their long walk through life, ought to be -giving them to the young and untried, instead of wearying -out their last days in the dull monotony of a useless -and regulated existence. Their dietary table allows -them for breakfast and supper one pint of tea (made -of one ounce to a gallon of water) and five ounces of -bread and a tiny bit of butter. For dinner they have -meat three times a week, pea-soup and bread twice, suet -pudding once, and Irish stew on the other day. For -the sake of comparison I will make a food table of this -diet, based on the same calculations of food value as -those that have been previously made for the family.</p> - -<table class="foodtable2 fs85 sp2" summary="Table of cost and nutrition content for typical meals"> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tvpad"> Quantity of Food.</th> -<th class="tdc"> Carbon-<br />aceous </th> -<th class="tdc"> Nitro-<br />genous. </th> -</tr> - -<tr class="tbordertop tbottom"> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Breakfast and Supper—Tea,<br />Bread, and Butter.</span> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 10 oz. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 5½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ oz. Butter </td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> — </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05">½ oz. Sugar </td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> — </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05">⅛ pint Milk </td> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> <span class="fs80">less than</span> ¼ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"><span class="sc">Dinner—Meat and Potatoes.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"></th> -<th class="tdc"></th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 4 oz. Meat (cooked)</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1 </td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 8 oz. Potatoes</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¼ </td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05 tbpad"> 2 oz. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad4"> 1 </td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad5"> ¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc tvpad"> Total</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 10½</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad4"> 2¼</td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<p class="sp2">Here we see that the total allowance comes only to -10½ oz. of carbonaceous food and 2¼ oz. of nitrogenous -food, against the estimated quantity of 16 oz. carbonaceous<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>12</span> -and 4 oz. nitrogenous, which is the necessary allowance -for ordinary people, and against the 25 oz. carbonaceous -and 5 oz. nitrogenous, which is the regulation diet -of the Royal Engineers during peace. It is true that -these old folk do not need so much food, for their bodies -have ceased to grow and develop, and in aged persons -the wear of the frame does not require such replenishment -as is the case with young and middle-aged people; -but even with this partial diet we find that the cost of -maintaining each of these old people is, for food alone, -3<i>s.</i> 11<i>d.</i> per head per week.</p> - -<p>Here, then, we have a fact on which a calculation is -easy to make, and which, when made, forces us to see that -the workman cannot keep his family as well as the pauper -is kept. Even on this simple fare it would cost him close -on 8<i>s.</i> a week to support himself so as to give him the -strength to earn his daily bread; while, if we imagine his -family to consist of a wife and six children, we find that -his weekly food-bills would amount to 1<i>l.</i> 8<i>s.</i>, calculating -his requirements on the same basis as in the previous -instances.</p> - -<p>If we take, therefore, the case of a skilled workman -earning his 2<i>l.</i> a week, we still find that, even when -adequately fed (and keep in mind the plainness and unattractiveness -of the diet), he has only 12<i>s.</i> a week to -supply all other necessaries and out of which to lay by, -not only against old age and sickness, but against that -‘rainy day’ and ‘out of work from slackness’ which so -often occur for weeks together in the weather chart of -our artisan population.</p> - -<p>Or take another case, that of Mr. and Mrs. Stoneman, -excellent folk: the wife, a woman of such force and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>13</span> -originality of character, such patience and sweet persistency, -as would make her an ornament in any class; the -husband an honest, steady man, not, perhaps, so clever -as his wife, but loving and admiring her none the less -for that. They have six children: the two eldest at -work; the youngest a sweet tiny thing, as spotlessly -clean as water and care can keep it in this mud-coloured -atmosphere of Whitechapel. Her husband earns 23<i>s.</i> a -week, excepting when bad illness, lasting sometimes six -and eight weeks, reduces his wages to nothing; and then -the sick man, his wife, and four children have to live, pay -rent, firing, and ‘doctor’s stuff’ on the club-money of -14<i>s.</i> a week, for the boys’ earnings can only support -themselves.</p> - -<p>Which of us would consider that he could supply food -and sick-luxuries for even <em>one</em> person on 14<i>s.</i> a week, -the sum fixed by the rich as board wages for an unneeded -man-servant?</p> - -<p>On the face of it this family is perhaps exceptionally -well-off, for the two big lads in it earn, the one 5<i>s.</i> the -other 7<i>s.</i> a week, which brings the united weekly wage up -to 35<i>s.</i> a week. Mrs. Stoneman is a friend of mine, and, -in response to my request, she weighed all the food at -every meal, and here is the result.</p> - -<p>At the time, however, that this was done Mrs. -Stoneman’s children had been sent by the Children’s -Country Holiday Fund into the country for a fortnight’s -holiday. We must therefore suppose the family to -consist only of six, and the necessary quantity of food to -sustain them in good healthy working condition would -be 76 oz. of carbonaceous food and 19 oz. of nitrogenous -food.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>14</span></p> - -<p class="center sp2"><span class="sc">Sunday Meals.</span></p> - -<table class="foodtable fs85 sp1" summary="Table of cost and nutrition content for typical meals"> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tvpad">Quantity of Food</th> -<th class="tdc"> Cost </th> -<th class="tdc fs80"> Strength-<br />giving. </th> -<th class="tdc fs80"> Flesh-<br />repairing </th> -</tr> - -<tr class="tbordertop tbottom"> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc"> Breakfast—Bread and<br />Butter and Fish.</span> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad1 sd"> <i>s.</i> <i>d.</i> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1¼ lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 11¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ oz. Butter</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1 Haddock</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ oz. Tea</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ pint Tinned Milk </td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Dinner—Beef and Vegetables,<br />Apple Pudding.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1 lb. 3 oz. Beef</td> -<td class="tdl lpad1 sd"> 1 5</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 3 lb. 10 oz. Potatoes</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 12¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1 lb. Beans</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 3 oz. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ⅔ lb. Flour</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 8</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ¼ lb. Lard</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1 lb. Apples</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1⅓ oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Tea—Bread and Butter.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ¾ lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 6¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2 oz. Butter</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ oz. Tea</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ pint Tinned Milk</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Supper—Bread and Cheese.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1 lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 9</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05 tbpad"> ¼ lb. Cheese</td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad4"> 4</td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad4"> 1¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc tvpad"> Total</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad1 sd2"> 3 11½</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 67¾</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 14¼</td> -</tr> - -</table> - - -<p class="center sp2"><span class="sc">Wednesday Meals</span></p> - -<table class="foodtable fs85 sp1" summary="Table of cost and nutrition content for typical meals"> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tvpad"> Quantity of Food </th> -<th class="tdc"> Cost </th> -<th class="tdc fs80"> Strength-<br />giving. </th> -<th class="tdc fs80"> Flesh-<br />repairing </th> -</tr> - -<tr class="tbordertop tbottom"> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc"> Breakfast—Bread and<br />Butter.</span> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad1 sd"> <i>s.</i> <i>d.</i> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2 lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 18</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 3¼ oz. Butter</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ¼ oz. Tea</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2 oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ pint Tinned Milk</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Dinner—Bacon Pudding.</span><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>15</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1 lb. Bacon</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 6</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2 lb. Potatoes</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 7</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ¾ lb. Flour</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 9</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2 oz. Suet</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Tea—Bread and Butter.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 3 lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 4½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 21</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 4½</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ oz. Butter</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ oz. Tea</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ pint Tinned Milk</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Supper—Bread and Cheese.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ¾ lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 6¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad05"> 3 oz. Cheese</td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad4"> 1</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc tvpad"> Total</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad1 sd"> 2 6¼</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 77¼</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 16</td> -</tr> - -</table> - - -<p class="center sp2"><span class="sc">Saturday Meals.</span></p> - -<table class="foodtable fs85 sp1" summary="Table of cost and nutrition content for typical meals"> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tvpad"> Quantity of Food </th> -<th class="tdc"> Cost </th> -<th class="tdc fs80"> Strength-<br />giving.</th> -<th class="tdc fs80"> Flesh-<br />repairing</th> -</tr> - -<tr class="tbordertop tbottom"> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc"> Breakfast—Bread and<br />Butter.</span> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad1 sd"> <i>s.</i> <i>d.</i> </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -<th class="tdl lpad3"> oz. </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1½ lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 13½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 3 oz. Butter</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 3½ oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1 pint Tinned Milk</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Dinner—Bread and Cheese<br />and Coffee.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ¾ lb. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 6¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ lb. Cheese</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 4</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 1 pint Milk, Coffee</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Tea—Bread and Butter<br />and Fish.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2 lb. 4 oz. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad3"> 20½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 3¾</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ oz. Butter</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2 Herrings</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 2½ oz. Sugar</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ¾</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> —</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> ½ pint Tinned Milk</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl lpad5"> ½</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<th class="tdc tspace thpad"> <span class="sc">Supper—Bread and Cheese.</span></th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -<th class="tdc"> </th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl lpad05"> 14 oz. Bread</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1¼</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 8½</td> -<td class="tdl lpad4"> 1</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad05"> ¼ lb. Cheese</td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad4"> 2</td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad4"> 1</td> -<td class="tdl tbpad lpad4"> 1¼</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc tvpad"> Total</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad1 sd"> 2 2½</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 66¾</td> -<td class="tdl tbordertop lpad3"> 15¼</td> -</tr> - -</table> - - -<p class="sp2"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>16</span>This is the food-table of one of the best of managers. -It could not well be simpler, and yet we see that it fails -every day, sometimes to the extent of one-third, in providing -sufficient nitrogenous or flesh-repairing food; but -even so the cost for the three days makes a total of -8<i>s.</i> 8½<i>d.</i>, or, say, on an average, 3<i>s.</i> a day. Thus it took -1<i>l.</i> 1<i>s.</i> a week to feed this family simply and wholesomely at -a time when two of its hungry members of eight and eleven -were away. The weekly rent to house it in two rooms -takes 5<i>s.</i> 7<i>d.</i>; to educate the school-going members, 7<i>d.</i> -a week must be paid; to keep the fire and lights going -(and this, of course, is more expensive than if the fuel -could be got in in large quantities) demands 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a -week; and to provide washing materials another 1<i>s.</i> -must be deducted.</p> - -<p>When these outgoings are met there remains but 4<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> -with which to provide the food of the two then absent children, -to pay club subscriptions for three people (because -each of the working members is in a sick-club and burial -club), to procure boots, clothes, and to lay by against the -days of illness, slackness, and old age.</p> - -<p>Now these are the facts which, summed up in a sentence, -amount to this, that while wages are at the present -rate the large mass of our people cannot get enough -food to maintain them in robust health, and bodily health -is here alone considered.</p> - -<p>No mention has been made of the food a man requires -to keep his whole nature in robust health; of the books, -the means of culture, the opportunities of social intercourse, -which are as necessary for his mental health and -development as food and drink are for his bodily. No -account has been taken of all that each human being<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>17</span> -needs to keep his spiritual nature alive. The quiet times -in the country or by the sea, the knowledge of Nature’s -mysteries, the opportunities for the cultivation of natural -affection. ‘Yes, it is seven years since me and my -daughter met,’ I heard a gentle old lady of sixty-nine say -the other day, one of God’s aristocracy, the upper class -in virtue and unselfishness. ‘You see, she lives a pretty -step from here, and moving about is not to be thought -of when money is so scarce.’</p> - -<p>The body’s needs are the most exacting; they make -themselves felt with daily recurring persistency, and, -while they remain unsatisfied, it is hard to give time or -thought to the mental needs or the spiritual requirements; -but if our nation is to be wise and righteous, as -well as healthy and strong, they must be considered. A -fair wage must allow a man, not only to adequately feed -himself and his family, but also to provide the means -of mental cultivation and spiritual development. Indeed, -some humanitarians assert that it should be sufficient to -give him a home wherein he may rest from noise, with -books, pictures, and society; and there are those who -go so far as to suggest that it should be sufficient to -enable him to learn the larger lessons which travellers -gain from other nations, as well as the teaching which -the great dumb teachers wait to impart to ‘those -with ears to hear’ of fraternity, purity, and eternal -hope.</p> - -<p>Why is it that our wage-earners cannot get this? -Why is it that, as we indulge in such dreams, they sound -impossible and almost impracticable, though no reader -of this Review will add undesirable? Is it because our -nation has not fought Ignorance, with pointed weapons,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>18</span> -and by its knights of proved prowess and valour? Or is -it because our rulers have not recognised the Greed of -certain classes or individuals as a national evil, and -struggled against it with the strength of unity? It cannot -be the want of money in our land which causes so -many to be half-fed and cry silently from want of strength -to make a noise. As we stand at Hyde Park Corner, or -wander in among the miles of streets of ‘gentlemen’s -residences’ in the West End, our hearts are gladdened -at the sight of the wealth that is in our land; but they -would be glad with a deeper gladness if Wilkins was not -getting slowly brutalised by his struggle, if there were a -chance of Alice and Johnnie Marshall growing up as -Nature meant them to grow, or if clever Mrs. Stoneman’s -patient efforts could be crowned with success. Money in -plenty is in our midst, but cruel, blinding Poverty keeps -her company, and our nation cannot boast herself of her -wealth while half her people are but partly fed, and too -poor to use their minds or to aspire after holiness.</p> - -<p>By the optimist we may be told that all mention of -charitable aid has been omitted; that in such a case as -that of Wilkins, or of Mrs. Marshall, there would be aid -from the philanthropic; that old clothes would do something -to replenish the wardrobe, otherwise to be kept -supplied by 1<i>l.</i> 19<i>s.</i> a year; and that scraps and broken -victuals find their way from most back-doors into the -homes of the poor. But, though this may be true when -the poor are scattered among the rich, it is not true of that -neighbourhood which I know best, where through miles of -streets the income of each resident does not exceed thirty -shillings a week, and where the four-roomed houses (as -a rule, let out to two or three families) are unrelieved by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>19</span> -a single house inhabited by only one family, or where -they ‘keeps a servant.’</p> - -<p>The advocates of children’s penny dinners may take -these facts as a strong argument in favour of their -scheme, and feel that in this simple method is the solution -of the difficulty. But those who so think cannot -have considered the question in all its bearings. If feeding -the children enables us to limit the power of disease, it -does so by putting fresh weapons into the hands of the -Greed of certain classes or individuals, which is so ill-curbed -and ineffectively conquered as to be nothing loth to -take advantage of every opportunity of working its cruel -will.</p> - -<p>If the children are fed at school it enables the mother -to go out to work. The supply of female labour is thus -increased, and married women can offer their work at -lower wages than widows or single ones, because their -labour is only supplementary to that of their husbands. -The consequence is that wages go down, because -more women are in the labour market than are needed, -and those get the work who will take it for the least remuneration. -Thus, though Mrs. Harris may get work, -her children being ‘now fed by the ladies round at the -school,’ she does so at the expense of lowering Jane Metcalf’s -wages; and, as Jane is working to help her widowed -mother to keep the four younger children off the parish, -the only result is that Tommie and Lizzie and the two -baby Metcalfs get worse food, and Jane finds life harder, -and sometimes sees temptation through magnifying-glasses.</p> - -<p>Besides these economic results which must inevitably -follow the plan of feeding the children on any large<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>20</span> -scale, there are others which ensue from the lightening of -parental responsibility, and these everyone who knows -the poor can foresee without the gift of prophecy; the -idle father is made more idle, the gossiping mother less -controlled, and from the drunken parent is taken the last -feeble bond which binds him to sobriety and its hopeful -consequences. But perhaps as important as any of these -results is the evil which follows the taking the children -from the home influence. In our English love of home -is one of our hopes for the future; and not the least -conspicuous as a moral training-ground is the family -dinner-table. There the mother can teach the little -lessons of good manners and neat ways, and the larger -truths of unselfishness and thoughtfulness. There the -whole family can meet, and from the talks over meals, -during the time which, as things now are, is perhaps the -only leisure of the busy mechanic, may grow that sympathy -between the older and younger people which must -refresh and gladden both. No; it is not by any charitable -effort that this poverty must be fought. A national want -must be met by a national effort, and the thought of the -political economist, which has hitherto been devoted to -the question of production and accumulation of wealth, -must now turn its attention to the problem of its right -use and distribution, recognising that ‘the wise use of -wealth in developing a complete human life is of incomparably -the greater moment both to men and nations.’ -While more than half the English people are unable to -live their best life or reach their true standard of humanity, -it is useless to congratulate ourselves on our national -supremacy or class our nation as wealthy.</p> - -<p>Some economists will reply that these sad conditions<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>21</span> -are but the result of our freedom; that the boasted -‘liberty’ in our land must result in the few strong making -themselves stronger, and in the many weak suffering from -their weakness. But is this necessarily so? Is this the -only result to be expected from human beings having -the power to act as they please? Are not love, goodwill, -and social instincts as truly parts of human character -as greed, selfishness, and sulkiness; and may we not -believe that human nature is great enough to care to use -its freedom for the good of all? Men have done noble -things to obtain this freedom. They have loved her with -the ardour of a lover’s love, with the patience of a silver -wedded life; and now that they have her, is she only to -be used to injure the weak, and to make life cruel and -almost impossible to the large majority? ‘What is the -right use of freedom?’ The ancient answer was, ‘To -love God.’ And can we love God whom we have not seen -when we love not our brother whom we have seen?</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Henrietta O. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - -<!--Chapter 2--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>22</span> - <h2 title="II. RELIEF FUNDS AND THE POOR." id="ch02"><abbr title="2">II.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>RELIEF FUNDS AND THE POOR.</i><a id="r21" href="#f21" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f21"> -<p><a href="#r21" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> Reprinted, by permission, from the <cite>Nineteenth Century</cite> of November 1886.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">The</span> poverty of the poor and the failure of the Mansion -House Relief Fund are the facts which stand out from the -gloom of a winter when dark weather, dull times, and -discontent united to depress both the hopes of the poor -and the energy of their friends. The memory of days -full of unavailing complaint and of aimless pity is one -from which all minds readily turn, quieting their fears -with the assumption that the poverty was exaggerated -or that the generosity of the rich is ample for all -occasions.</p> - -<p>The facts, however, remain that the poor are very -poor, and that the fund failed as a means of relief; and -these facts must be faced if a lesson is to be learnt from -the past, and a way discovered through the perils of the -future. The policies which occupy the leaders’ minds, -the interests of business, the theologies, the fashions, are -but webs woven in the trees while the storm is rising in -the distance. Sounds of the storm are already in the air, -a murmuring among those who have not enough, puffs -of boasting from those who have too much, and a muttering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>23</span> -from those who are angry because while some are -drunken others are starving. The social question is -rising for solution, and, though for a moment it is forgotten, -it will sweep to the front and put aside as cobwebs -the ‘deep’ concerns of leaders and teachers. The danger -is lest it be settled by passion and not by reason, lest, -that is, reforms be hurriedly undertaken in answer to -some cry, and without consideration of facts, their weight, -their causes, and their relation.</p> - -<p>The study of the condition of the people receives -hardly as much attention as that which Sir J. Lubbock -gives to the ants and the wasps. Bold good men discuss -the poor, and cheques are given by irresponsible benefactors; -but there are few students who reverently and -patiently make observations on social conditions, accumulate -facts, and watch cause and effect. Scientific -method is supreme everywhere except in those -human affairs which most concern humanity.</p> - -<p>Ten years ago Arnold Toynbee demanded a ‘body of -doctrine’ from those who cared for the poor. He sought -an intellectual basis for moral fervour, and yet to-day -what a muck-heap is our social legislation, what a confusion -of opinion there exists about the poor law, education -emigration, and land laws! All reformers are driving -on; but what is each driving at? Sometimes the same -driver has aims obviously incompatible, as when the Lord -Mayor one day signs a report which says that, ‘the spasmodic -assistance given by the public in answer to special -appeals is really useless,’ and another day himself inaugurates -a relief fund by a special appeal.</p> - -<p>One of the facts made evident last winter is the poverty<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>24</span> -of the poor, and it is a fact about which the public mind -is uncertain.</p> - -<p>The working men when they appear at meetings -seem to be well dressed in black cloth, the statistics of -trades-unions, friendly, co-operative, and building societies -show the members to be so numerous, and the -accumulated funds to be so far above thousands and so -near to millions sterling, that the necessary conclusion -is, ‘There is no poverty among the poor.’ But then the -clergy or missionaries echo some ‘bitter cry,’ and tell -how there are thousands of working folk in danger -of starvation, thousands without warmth or clothing, -and the necessary conclusion is, ‘All the poor are -poverty-stricken.’ The public mind halts between these -two conclusions and is uncertain.</p> - -<p>The uncertainty is due partly to the vague use of the -term ‘poor,’ by which is generally meant all those who -are not tradespeople or capitalists, and partly to an inability -to appreciate the size of London. The poor, it is -obvious, form only a minority in the community, and a -minority suggests something unimportant, and notwithstanding -the size of London, it is regarded as a small -and manageable body.</p> - -<p>Last winter’s experience clears away all uncertainty, -and shows that there is a vast mass of people in London -who have neither black coats nor savings, and whose life -is dwarfed and shortened by want of food and clothing. -In Whitechapel there is a population of 70,000: of these -some 20 per cent., exclusive of the Jewish population, -applied at the office of the Mansion House Relief Fund -during the three months it was opened. In St. George’s, -East, there is a population of 50,000, and of these 29<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>25</span> -per cent. applied. Among all who applied the number -belonging to any trades-union or friendly society was -very few. In Whitechapel only six out of 1,700 applicants -were members of a benefit club. In St. George’s only -177 out of 3,578 called themselves artisans. In Stepney -1,000 men applied before one mechanic came, and only -one member of a trades-union came under notice at all. -In the Tower Hamlets division of East London out of a -population of 500,000, 17,384 applied, representing -86,920 persons. It may be safely assumed that all in -need did not apply, and that many thousands were -assisted by other agencies. The reports of some of the -visitors expressly state that the numbers they give are -exclusive of many referred to the Jewish Board of -Guardians, the clergy, and other agencies, while numbers -of those who did apply either did not wait to have their -names entered or were so manifestly beyond the reach -of money help that they were not recorded among applicants. -Especially noteworthy among the remarks of the -visitors is one, that all who applied would at any season -of the year apply in the same way and give the same evidence -of poverty. ‘If a fund was advertised as largely -as this fund has been in summer, and when trade was at -its best, precisely the same people would apply.’ The -truth of the remark has been put to the test, and during -the summer a large number of those relieved in the -winter have been visited, with the result that they have -been found apparently in like misery and equally in need -of assistance.</p> - -<p>Of the poverty of those who made application there -has been no question. Some may have brought it on -themselves by drink or by vice, some may have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>26</span> -thriftless and without self-control; but all were poor, so -poor as to be without the things necessary for mere -existence. The men and women who crowded the relief -offices had haggard and drawn faces, their worn and thin -bodies shivered under their rags of clothing, and they -gave no sign of strength or of hope. Their homes were -squalid, the children ill-fed, ill-clad, and joyless, their record -showed that for months they had received no regular -wage, and that their substance was more often at the -pawnbroker’s than in the home.</p> - -<p>Last winter’s experience shows that outside the -classes of regular wage-earning workmen, who are often -included among ‘the poor,’ is a mass of people numbering -some tens of thousands who are without the means -of living. These are the poor, and their poverty is the -common concern.</p> - -<p>Statistics prove what has long been known to those -whose business lies in poor places, and to them the -reports of the increased prosperity of the country have -been like songs of gladness in a land of sorrow. They -know the streets in which every room is a home, the -homes in which there is no comfort for the sick, no easy-chair -for the weary, no bath for the tired, no fresh air, -no means of keeping food, no space for play, no possibility -of quiet, and to them the news of the national wealth and -the sight of fashionable luxury seem but cruel satire. -The little dark rooms may bear traces of the man’s -struggle or of the woman’s patience, but the homes of -the poor are sad, like the fields of lost battles, where -heroism has fought in vain. By no struggle and by no -patience can health be won in so few feet of cubic air, and -no parent dares to hope that he can make the time of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>27</span> -youth so joyful as to for ever hold his children to -pleasures which are pure. The homes of the poor are a -mockery of the name, but yet how many would think -themselves happy if even such homes were secure, and if -they were able to look to the future without seeing -starvation for their children and the workhouse for themselves! -One example will illustrate many. The Browns -are a family of five; they occupy one room. The man is -a labourer, London-born, quick-witted and slow-bodied, -and, as many labourers do, he fills up slack time with -hawking; the woman takes in her neighbours’ washing. -Their room, twelve feet by ten feet, is crowded with two -bedsteads, the implements for washing, the coal-bin, a -table, a chest, and a few chairs; on the walls are -some pictures, the human protest against the doctrine -that the poor can ‘live by bread alone.’ The man earns -sometimes 3<i>s.</i>, often nothing, in the day; and his wife -brings in sometimes 6<i>d.</i> or 9<i>d.</i> a day, but her work fills -the room with damp and discomfort, and almost -necessarily keeps the husband out of doors. Both man -and woman are still young, but they look aged, and the -children are thin and delicate. They seldom have enough -to eat and never enough to wear, they are rarely healthy, -and are never so happy as to thank God for their creation. -Hard work will make these children orphans, or bad air, -cold, and hunger will make these parents childless.</p> - -<p>In the case of another family, where the wage is -regular—the income is 1<i>l.</i> a week—the outlook is not -much brighter. Here there is the same crowded room, -for which 3<i>s.</i> a week is paid, the same weary, half-starved -faces, the same want of air and water. Here, too, the -parents dare not look forwards, because even if the income<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>28</span> -remains permanent, it cannot secure necessaries for -sickness, it cannot educate or apprentice the children, -and it cannot provide for their own old age. No income, -however, does remain permanent, and the regular hand -is always anxious lest a change in trade, or in his employer’s -temper, may send him adrift.</p> - -<p>In the cases where there is drink, carelessness, or -idleness everything of course looks worse. The room -is poorer and dirtier, the faces more shrunken, and the -clothes thinner. Indignation against sin does not settle -the matter. The poverty is manifest, and if the cause -be in the weakness of human nature, then the greater -and the harder is the duty of effecting its cure.</p> - -<p>Cases of poverty such as these are common; they who -by business, duty, or affection go among the poor know of -their existence; but if those who hire a servant, employ -workpeople, or buy cheap articles would think about what -they talk, they could not longer content themselves with -phrases about thrift as almighty for good, and intemperance -as almighty for evil. Fourteen pounds a year, -if a domestic servant has unfailing health and unbroken -work from the age of twenty to fifty-five, will only enable -her to save enough for her old age by giving up all -pleasure, by neglecting her own family duties, and by -impoverishing her life to make a livelihood. Very sad -is it to meet in some back-room the living remains of -an old servant. Mrs. Smith is sixty-five years old; she -has been all her life in service, and saved over 100<i>l.</i> -She has had but little joy in her youth, and now in her -old age she is lonely. Her fear is lest, spending only -7<i>s.</i> a week, her savings may not last her life. She could -hardly have done more, and what she did was not enough.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>29</span> -A wage of 20<i>s.</i> or 25<i>s.</i> a week is called good wages, yet -it leaves the earners unable to buy sufficient food or to -procure any means of recreation. The following table<a id="r22" href="#f22" title="Go to Footnote 2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -represents the necessary weekly expenditure of a family -of eight persons, of whom six are children. It allows for -each day no cheering luxuries, but only the bare amount -of carbonaceous and nitrogenous foods which are absolutely -necessary for the maintenance of the body.</p> - - -<table class="spendtable center sp2 fs85" summary="Items of weekly spending"> -<tr> -<th class="tdl"></th> -<th class="tdr rpad1"><i>£</i></th> -<th class="tdr rpad1"><i>s.</i></th> -<th class="tdr"><i>d.</i></th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl rpad2 desc">Food, i.e. oatmeal, 1¼ lb. of meat a day among - eight persons, cocoa and bread</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1">0</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1">14</td> -<td class="tdr">0</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl rpad2 desc">Rent for two small rooms</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1">0</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1">5</td> -<td class="tdr">0</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl rpad2 desc">Schooling for four children</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1">0</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1">0</td> -<td class="tdr">4</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl rpad2 desc">Washing</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1">0</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1">1</td> -<td class="tdr">0</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl rpad2 tbpad desc">Firing and light</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1 tbpad">0</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1 tbpad">2</td> -<td class="tdr tbpad">6</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc rpad2 tvpad">Total</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1 tvpad tbordertop">1</td> -<td class="tdr rpad1 tvpad tbordertop">2</td> -<td class="tdr tvpad tbordertop">10</td> -</tr> - -</table> - - -<div class="footnote" id="f22"> - -<p><a href="#r22" class="label" title="Return to text">2</a> This table is taken from a paper written by my wife in the <i>National -Review</i>, July 1886, in which she illustrates by many examples that the -average wage is insufficient to support life.</p> - -</div> - -<p>If to this 2<i>s.</i> a week be added for clothes (and what -woman dressing on 100<i>l.</i> or 80<i>l.</i> a year could allow less -than 5<i>l.</i> a year to clothe a working man, his wife, and -six children) then the necessary weekly expenditure of -the family is 1<i>l.</i> 4<i>s.</i> 10<i>d.</i> Few fathers or mothers are -able to resist, or ought to resist, the temptation of taking -or giving some pleasure; so even where work is regular, -and paid at 1<i>l.</i> 5<i>s.</i> a week, there must be in the home -want of food as well as of the luxuries which gladden -life.</p> - -<p>Those dwellers in pleasant places, without experience -of the homes of the poor, who will resolutely set -themselves to think about what they do know must -realise that those who make cheap goods are too poor to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>30</span> -do their duty to themselves, their neighbours, and their -country. The mystery, indeed, remains, how many -manage to live at all.</p> - -<p>One solution is that there exists among these irregular -workers a kind of communism. They prefer to -occupy the same neighbourhood and make long journeys -to work rather than go to live among strangers. They -easily borrow and easily lend. The women spend much -time in gossiping, know intimately one another’s affairs, -and in times of trouble help willingly. One couple, -whose united earnings have never reached 15<i>s.</i> a week, -whose home has never been more than one small room, -has brought up in succession three orphans. The old -man, at seventy years of age, just earns a living by -running messages or by selling wirework; but even now -he spends many a night in hushing a baby whose desertion -he pities, and whom he has taken to his care.</p> - -<p>The poverty of the poor is understood by the poor, -and their charity is according to the measure of Christ’s. -The charity of the rich is according to another measure, -because they do not know of poverty, and they do not -know because they do not think. Only the self-satisfied -Pharisee and the proud Roman could pass Calvary unmoved, -and only the self-absorbed can be ignorant that -every day the innocent and helpless are crucified. The -selfishness of modern life is shown most clearly in this -absence of thought. Absorbed in their own concerns, -kindly people carelessly hear statements, see prices, and -face sights which imply the ruin of their fellow-creatures. -The rich would not be so cruel if they would think. -Thought about the amount of food which ‘good wages’ -can buy, about the hours spent in making matches or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>31</span> -coats, about the sorrows behind the faces of those who -serve them in shops or pass them in the streets; thought -would make the rich ready to help; and the fact that there -are among the 500,000 inhabitants of the Tower Hamlets -86,920 too poor to live is enough to make them think.</p> - -<p>The failure of the relief fund is the other fact of the -winter to stir thought.</p> - -<p>Mansion House relief represents the mercies to which -the wisdom and the love of the completest age have -committed the needs of the poor. Never were needs so -delicate left to mercies so clumsy; needs intertwined -with the sorrows and sufferings with which no stranger -could intermeddle have been met with the brutal generosity -of gifts given often with little thought or cost. -The result has been an increase of the causes which make -poverty and a decrease of good-will among men.</p> - -<p>The fund failed even to relieve distress. In St. -George’s-in-the-East there were nearly 4,000 applicants, -representing 20,000 persons. All of these were in distress—were, -that is, cold and hungry. Of these there were -2,400 applicants, representing some 12,000 persons—whom -the committee considered to be working people -unemployed and within the scope of the fund. For -their relief 2,000<i>l.</i> was apportioned; and if it had been -equally divided each person would have had 3<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> on -which to support life during three months. Such sums -might have relieved the givers, pleased by the momentary -satisfaction of the recipient, but they would not have relieved -the poor, who would still have had to endure days -and weeks of want.</p> - -<p>The fund was thus in the first place inadequate to -relieve the distress. An attempt was made in some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>32</span> -districts by discrimination to make it useful to those -who were ‘deserving.’ Forms were given out to be -filled in by applicants; visitors were appointed to visit -the homes and to make inquiries; committees sat daily -to consider and decide on applications. The end of all -has been that in one district those assisted were found -to be ‘improvident, unsober, and non-industrious,’ and -in another the almoner can only say, ‘they are a careless, -hard-living, hard-drinking set of people, and are so -much what their circumstances have made them that -terms of moral praise or blame are hardly applicable.’</p> - -<p>An analysis of the decisions of the committees formed -in the various parts of the Tower Hamlets shows that -the decisions were according to different standards, and -with different views of what was meant by ‘assistance.’ -A half-crown a week was voted for the support of one -family in which the man was a notorious drunkard. -Twelve pounds were given to start a costermonger on one -day, while at a subsequent committee meeting 10<i>s.</i> was -voted for a family in almost identical circumstances. In -one district casual labourers were given 20<i>s.</i> or 30<i>s.</i>, but -in the neighbouring district casual labourers were refused -relief.</p> - -<p>Methods of relief were as many as were the districts -into which London was divided. In Whitechapel a labour -test was applied. The labourers were offered street-sweeping; -and those who were used only to indoor work -were put to whitewashing, window-cleaning, or tailoring. -The women were given needlework. When it was known -to the large crowd brought to the office by the advertisement -of the fund that work was to be offered to the able-bodied, -there was among the ne’er-do-weels great indignation.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>33</span> -‘Call this charity!’ ‘We will complain to the -Lord Mayor, we will break windows,’ and addressing the -almoners, ‘It is you fellows who are getting 1<i>l.</i> a day for -your work.’ Many ‘finding they could not get relief -without doing work did not persist in their application,’ -and they were not entered as applicants, but work was -actually offered to 850 men and accepted by only 339. -Of these the foreman writes, ‘The labour test was a sore -trial for a great many of them. I repeatedly had it said -to me by them, “The Fund is a charity, and we ought -not to work for it.”’</p> - -<p>In St. George’s there was no labour test, and there -1,689 men and 682 women received assistance in food -or in materials for labour. In Stepney the conditions -under which the Fund was collected were strictly observed, -and only those ‘out of employment through the present -depression’ were assisted. The consequence was that -casual labourers, the sick, the aged, all known to be -frequently out of work, were refused, and much of the -Fund was spent in large sums for the emigration of a -few. In this district the committee was largely composed -of members of friendly societies, men who, by experience, -were familiar both with the habits of the poor and with -the methods of relief. Their co-operation was invaluable, -both in itself and also for the confidence which it won for -the administration.</p> - -<p>In Mile End the committee had another standard of -character and another method of inquiry. No record -was kept of the number of applications, and those relieved -have been differently described as ‘good men’ -and ‘loafers’ by different members of the committee.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>34</span> -2,539<i>l.</i> were spent among 2,133 families, an average of -4<i>s.</i> 10<i>d.</i> a person. The Poplar Committee has published -no report, but one of its members writes: ‘Relief was -often given without investigation to old, chronic, sick, -and poor-law cases, without distinction as to character; -the rule was, Give, give! spend, spend!’ and another -states the opinion ‘that the whole neighbourhood was -demoralised by the distribution of the Fund.’ As a -result of their experiences, some of those engaged in -relief in this district are now making efforts to unite -workmen, and the members of benefit societies, in the -administration of future funds.</p> - -<p>The sort of relief given was as various as the methods -of relief. Sometimes money, sometimes tickets, sometimes -food; the variety is excused by one visitor, who -says, ‘We were ten days at work before instructions -came from the Mansion House, and then it was too late -to change our system.’ Discrimination utterly broke -down, and with all the appliances it was chance which -ruled the decision. The gifts fell on the worthy and on -the unworthy, but as they fell only in partial showers, -none received enough and many who were worthy went -empty away.</p> - -<p>Discrimination of desert is indeed impossible. The -poor-law officials, with ample time and long experience, -cannot say who deserves or would be benefited by out-relief. -Amateurs appointed in a hurry, and confused -by numbers, vainly try to settle desert. Systems must -adopt rules; friendship alone can settle merit.</p> - -<p>The Fund failed to relieve distress, and further -developed some of the causes which make poverty.</p> - -<p>Prominent among such causes are (1) faith in chance;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>35</span> -(2) dishonesty in its fullest sense; (3) the unwisdom of -so-called charity.</p> - -<p>(1) The big advertisement of ‘70,000<i>l.</i> to be given -away’ offered a chance which attracted idlers, and -relaxed in many the energies hitherto so patiently -braced to win a living for wife or children. The effect -is frequently noticed in the reports. The St. George’s-in-the-East -visitors emphasise the opinion that it was -‘the great publicity of the Fund which made its distribution -so difficult.’ A visitor in Poplar thinks ‘the -publicity was tempting to bad cases and deterrent of -good ones.’ The chance of a gift out of so big a sum -was too good to be missed for the sake of hard work and -small wages.</p> - -<p>Faith in chance was further encouraged by the -irregular methods of administration. Refusals and relief -followed no law discoverable by the poor. In the -same street one washerwoman was set up with stock, -while another in equal circumstances was dismissed. In -adjoining districts such various systems were adopted -that of three ‘mates’ one would receive work, another a -gift, and the third nothing. ‘The power of chance’ was -the teaching of the Fund, started through the accidental -emotions of a Lord Mayor, and they who believe in -chance give up effort, become wayward, and lose power of -mind and body. Chance leads her followers to poverty, -and the increase of the spirit of gambling is not the least -among the causes of distress.</p> - -<p>(2) The remark is sometimes made that ‘the -righteous man is never found begging his bread,’ or, in -other words, that there is always work for the man who -can be trusted. Honesty in its fullest sense, implying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>36</span> -absolute truth, thoroughness, and responsibility, has -great value in the labour market, and agencies which -increase a trust in honesty increase wealth. The -tendency of the Fund has been to create a trust in lies. -Its organisation of visitors and committees offered a show -of resistance to lies, but over such resistance lies easily -triumphed, and many notorious evil-livers got by a good -story the relief denied to others. Anecdotes are common -as to the way in which visitors were deceived, committees -hoodwinked, and money wrongly gained, while the better -sort of poor, failing to understand how so much money -could have had so little effect, hold the officials to have -been smart fellows who took care of themselves. The -laughter roused by such talk is the laughter which demoralises, -it is the praise of the power of lies, and the -laughers will not be among those who by honesty do well -for themselves and for others.</p> - -<p>(3) The mischief of foolish charity is a text on -which much has been written, but no doubt exists as to -the power of wise charity. The teaching which fits the -young to do better work or to find resource in a bye-trade, -the influence by which the weak are strengthened -to resist temptation, the application of principles which -will give confidence, and the setting up of ideals which -will enlarge the limits of life—this is the charity which -conquers poverty. In East London there are many -engaged in such charity, and to their work the action of -the Fund was most prejudicial. Some of them, carried -away by the excitement, relaxed their patient, silent -efforts, while they tried to meet a thousand needs with -no other remedy than a gift. Others saw their work -spoiled, their lessons of self-help undone by the offer of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>37</span> -a dole, their teaching of the duty of helping others -forgotten in the greedy scramble for graceless gifts. They -devoted themselves to do their utmost and bore the -heavy burden of distributing the Fund, but most of them -speak sadly of their experience. They laboured sometimes -for sixteen hours a day, but their labour was not -to do good but to prevent evil—a labour of pain—and -one, speaking the experience of his fellows, says ‘their -labours had the appearance of a hurried and spasmodic -effort.’ The fund of charity, like a torrent, swept away -the tender plants which the stream of charity had -nourished.</p> - -<p>In the face of all this experience it is not extravagant -to say that the means of relief used last winter developed -the causes of poverty. It may be that if all the poor -were self-controlled and honest, and if all charity were -wise, poverty would still exist; but self-indulgence, lies, -and unwise charity are causes of poverty, and these -causes have been strengthened. One visitor’s report -sums up the whole matter when it says:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>They (the applicants) have received their relief, and they -are now in much the same position as they were before, and -as they will be found, it is feared, in future winters, until -more effectual and less spasmodic means of improving their -condition can be devised, for the causes of distress are chronic -and permanent. The foundation of such independence of -character as they possessed has been shaken, and some of -them have taken the first step in mendicancy, which is too -often never retraced.</p> -</div> - -<p>Examples, of course, may be found where the relief -has been helpful, and some visitors, in the contemplation -of the worthy family relieved from pressure and set free to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>38</span> -work, may think that one such result justifies many -failures. It is not, though, expedient that many should -suffer for one, or that a population should be demoralised -in order that two or three might have enough.</p> - -<p>The Fund as a means of relief has failed: it is condemned -by the recipients, who are bitter on account of -disappointed hopes; by the almoners, whose only satisfaction -is that they managed to do the least possible -mischief; and by the mechanics, whose name was taken -in vain by the agitators who went to the Lord Mayor, -and who feel their class degraded by a system of relief -which assumes improvidence and imposition among working -men.</p> - -<p>The failure of the latest method of relief has been -made as manifest as the poverty, and no prophet is -needed to tell that bad times are coming. The outlook is -most gloomy. The August reports of trades societies -characterise trade as ‘dull’ or ‘very slack.’ The pawnbrokers -report in the same month that they are taking -in rather than handing out pledges, and all those who -have experience of the poor consider poverty to be chronic. -If not in the coming winter, still in the near future there -must be trouble.</p> - -<p>Poverty in London is increasing both relatively and -actually. Relative poverty may be lightly considered, -but it breeds trouble as rapidly as actual poverty. -The family which has an income sufficient to support -life on oatmeal will not grow in good-will when they -know that daily meat and holidays are spoken of -as ‘necessaries’ for other workers and children. Education -and the spread of literature have raised the standard -of living, and they who cannot provide boots for their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>39</span> -children, nor sufficient fresh air, nor clean clothes, nor -means of pleasure, feel themselves to be poor, and have -the hopelessness which is the curse of poverty, as selfishness -is the curse of wealth.</p> - -<p>Poverty, however, in East London, is increasing -actually. It is increased (1) by the number of incapables: -‘broken men, who by their misfortunes or their vices -have fallen out of regular work,’ and who are drawn to -East London because chance work is more plentiful, -‘company’ more possible, and life more enlivened by excitement. -(2) By the deterioration of the physique of -those born in close rooms, brought up in narrow streets, -and early made familiar with vice. It was noticed that -among the crowds who applied for relief there were few -who seemed healthy or were strongly grown. In Whitechapel -the foreman of those employed in the streets -reported that ‘the majority had not the stamina to make -even a good scavenger.’ (3) By the disrepute into which -saving is fallen. Partly because happiness (as the -majority count happiness) seems to be beyond their -reach, partly because the teaching of the example of the -well-to-do is ‘enjoy yourselves,’ and partly because ‘the -saving man’ seems ‘bad company, unsocial and selfish’; -the fact remains that few take the trouble to save—only -units out of the thousands of applicants had shown any -signs of thrift. (4) By the growing animosity of the -poor against the rich. Good-will among men is a source -of prosperity as well as of peace. Those bound together -consider one another’s interests, and put the good of the -‘whole’ before the good of a class. Among large classes -of the poor animosity is slowly taking the place of good-will, -the rich are held to be of another nation, the theft<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>40</span> -of a lady’s diamonds is not always condemned as the -theft of a poor man’s money, and the gift of 70,000<i>l.</i> is -looked on as ransom and perhaps an inadequate ransom. -The bitter remarks sometimes heard by the almoners are -signs of disunion, which will decrease the resources of all -classes. The fault did not begin with the poor; the rich -sin, but the poor, made poorer and more angry, suffer -the most.</p> - -<p>On account of these and other causes it may be expected -that poverty will be increased. The poorer -quarters will become still poorer, the sight of squalor, -misery, and hunger more painful, the cry of the poor -more bitter. For their relief no adequate means are proposed. -The last twenty years have been years of progress, -but for lack of care and thought the means of relief for -poverty remain unchanged. The only resource twenty -years ago was a Mansion House Fund, and the only resource -available in this enlightened and wealthy year of our -Lord is a similar gift thrown—not brought—from the -West to the East.</p> - -<p>The paradise in which a few theorists lived, listening -to the talk at social science congresses, has been rudely -broken. Lord Mayors, merchant princes, prime ministers, -and able editors have no better means for relief of -distress than that long ago discredited by failure. One -of the greatest dangers possible to the State has been -growing in the midst, and the leaders have slumbered -and slept. The resources of civilisation, which are said -to be ample to suppress disorder and to evolve new -policies, have not provided means by which the chief -commandment may be obeyed, and love shown to the -poor neighbour.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>41</span></p> - -<p>The outlook is gloomy enough, and the cure of the -evil is not to be effected by a simple prescription. The -cure must be worked by slow means which will take -account of the whole nature of man, which will consider -the future to be as important as the present, and which -will win by waiting.</p> - -<p>Generally it is assumed that the chief change is that -to be effected in the habits of the poor. All sorts of -missions and schemes exist for the working of this change. -Perhaps it is more to the purpose that a change should -be effected in the habits of the rich. Society has settled -itself on a system which it never questions, and it is assumed -to be absolutely within a man’s right to live -where he chooses and to get the most for his money.</p> - -<p>It is this practice of living in pleasant places which -impoverishes the poor. It authorises, as it were, a lower -standard of life for the neighbourhoods in which the poor -are left; it encourages a contempt for a home which is -narrow; it leaves large quarters of the town without -the light which comes from knowledge, and large masses -of the people without the friendship of those better -taught than themselves. The precept that ‘every one -should live over his shop’ has a very direct bearing on -life, and it is the absence of so many from their shops, -be the shop ‘the land’ or ‘a factory,’ which makes so -many others poorer.</p> - -<p>Absenteeism is an acknowledged cause of Irish -troubles, and Mr. Goldwin Smith has pointed out that -‘the greatest evils of absenteeism are—first, that it -withdraws from the community the upper class, who are -the natural channels of civilising influences to the classes -below them; and, secondly, that it cuts off all personal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>42</span> -relations between the individual landlord and his tenant.’ -He further adds that it was ‘natural the gentry should -avoid the sight of so much wretchedness <span class="ellipsis">..</span>. and be -drawn to the pleasures of London or Dublin.’ The result -in Ireland was heartbreaking poverty which relief funds -did not relieve, and there is no reason why in East -London absenteeism should have other results.</p> - -<p>In the same way the unquestioned habit by which -every one thinks himself justified in getting the most -for his money tends to make poverty. In the competition -which the habit provokes many are trampled -underfoot, and in the search after enjoyment wealth is -wasted which would support thousands in comfort.</p> - -<p>The habits of the people are in the charge of the -Church, so that by its ministers (conformist and nonconformist) -God’s Spirit may bend the most stubborn -will. Those ministers have a great responsibility. God’s -Spirit has been imprisoned in phrases about the duty of -contentment and the sin of drink; the stubborn will -has been strengthened by the doctor’s opinion as to the -necessity of living apart from the worry of work, and -by the teaching of a political economy which assumes -that a man’s might is a man’s right. The ministers -who would change the habits of the rich will have to -preach the prophet’s message about the duty of giving -and the sin of luxury, and to denounce ways of business -now pronounced to be respectable and Christian. Old -teaching will have to be put in new language, giving -shown to consist in sharing, and earning to be sacrifice. -For some time it may be the glory of a preacher to empty -rather than to fill his church as he reasons about the -Judgment to come, when ‘twopence a gross to the match-makers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>43</span> -will be laid alongside of the twenty-two per cent. -to the shareholders,’ and penny dinners for the poor compared -with the sixteen courses for the rich—when the -‘seamy’ side of wealth and pleasures will be exposed.<a id="r23" href="#f23" title="Go to Footnote 3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> -For some time the ministers who would change habits -may fail to attract congregations. It is not until they are -able again to lift up the God whose presence is dimly -felt, and whose nature is misunderstood, that they will -succeed. In the knowledge of God is eternal life. When -all know God as the Father who requires rich and poor to -be perfect sharers in His gifts of virtue, forgiveness, and -peace, then none will be satisfied until they are at one -with Him, and His habit has become their habit.</p> - -<div class="footnote" id="f23"> - -<p><a href="#r23" class="label" title="Return to text">3</a> Prices paid according to the Mansion House report are: Making of -shirts, ¾<i>d.</i> each; making soldiers’ leggings, 2<i>s.</i> a dozen; making lawn-tennis -aprons, elaborately frilled, 5½<i>d.</i> a dozen to the sweater, the actual -worker getting less.</p> - -</div> - -<p>It may, however, be well here to suggest in a few -words what may be done while habits remain the same -by laws or systems for the relief of poverty.</p> - -<p>It would be wise (1) to promote the organisation of -unskilled labour. The mass of applicants last winter -belonged to this class, and in one report it is distinctly -said that the greater number were ‘born within the demoralising -influence of the intermittent and irregular -employment given by the Dock Companies, and who -have never been able to rise above their circumstances.’ -It is in evidence that the wages of these men do not -exceed 12<i>s.</i> a week on an average in a year. If, by some -encouragement, these men could be induced to form a -union, and if by some pressure the Docks could be induced -to employ a regular gang, much would be gained. -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>44</span>The very organisation would be a lesson to these men in -self-restraint and in fellowship. The substitution of -regular hands at the Docks for those who now, by waiting -and scrambling, get a daily ticket would give to a -large number of men the help of settled employment -and take away the dependence on chance, which makes -many careless. Such a change might be met by a <span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><i>non -possumus</i></span> of the directors, but it is forgotten that to the -present system a weightier <span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><i>non possumus</i></span> would be urged -if the labourers could speak as shareholders now speak. -A possible loss of profit is not comparable to an actual -loss of life, and the labourers do lose life and more than -life as they scramble for a living that the dividend or -salaries may be increased.</p> - -<p>(2) The helpers of the poor might be efficiently organised. -The ideal of co-operating charity has long -hovered over the mischief and waste of competing charity. -Up to the present, denominational jealousy, or the belief -in crochets, or the self-will which ‘dislikes committees’ -has prevented common work. If all who are -serving the poor could meet and divide—meet to learn -one another’s object and divide each to do his own work—there -would be a force applied which might remove -mountains of difficulty. Abuse would be known, wise -remedies would be suggested, and foolish remedies prevented. -Indirect means would be brought to the support -of direct, and those concerned to reform the land laws, -to teach the ignorant, and beautify the ugly would be -recognised as fellow-workers with those whose object is -the abolition of poverty. Money would be amply given, -and the high motives of faith and love applied to the -reform of character. The ideal is in its fulness impossible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>45</span> -until there be a really national Church, in which -the denominations will each preach their truth, and in -which ‘the entire religious life of the nation will be expressed.’ -Such a Church, extending into every corner -of the land and drawing to itself all who love their neighbours, -would realise the ideal of co-operative charity, -and so order things that no one would be in sorrow -whom comfort will relieve, and no one in pain whom -help can succour.</p> - -<p>(3) Lastly, the qualification for a seat on a board of -guardians might be removed and the position opened to -working men.<a id="r24" href="#f24" title="Go to Footnote 4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> The action of the poor-law has a very -distinct effect on poverty, and intelligent experience is on -the side of administration by rule rather than by sentiment. -In poor-law unions, where it is known that -‘indoors’ all that is necessary for life will be provided, -but that ‘outdoors’ nothing will be given, the poor feel -they are under a rule which they can understand. They -are able to calculate on what will happen in a way which -is impossible when ‘giving goes by favour or desert,’ and -they do not wait and suffer by trusting to a chance. -Public opinion, however, does not support such administration, -and as public opinion is largely now that of the -working men, it is necessary that these men should be -admitted on to boards of guardians, where by experience -they would learn how impossible it is to adjust relief to -desert, and how much less cruel is regular sternness than -spasmodic kindness. A carefully and wisely administered -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>46</span>poor-law is the best weapon in hand for the troubles -to come, and such is impossible without the sympathy of -all classes.</p> - -<div class="footnote" id="f24"> - -<p><a href="#r24" class="label" title="Return to text">4</a> It might be necessary at the same time to abolish ‘the compounder,’ -so that the tenant of every tenement might himself pay the rates and -feel their burden.</p> - -</div> - -<p>By some such means preparation may be made for dealing -with poverty, but even these would not be sufficient -and would not be in order at a moment of emergency.</p> - -<p>If next winter there be great distress, what, it may be -asked, can possibly be done? The chief strain must undoubtedly -be borne by the poor-law, and the poor-law must -follow rules—hard-and-fast lines. The simplest rule is -indoor relief for all applicants, and if for able-bodied men -the relief take the form of work which is educational, its -helpfulness will be obvious. The casual labourer, whose -family is given necessary support on condition that he -enters the House, may, during his residence, learn something -of whitewashing, woodwork, and baking, or, better -yet, that habit of regularity which will do much to keep -up the home which has been kept together for him.</p> - -<p>The poor-law can thus help during a time of pressure -without any break in its established system. If more -is necessary, perhaps the next best form of relief would -be an extension of that adopted by the Whitechapel -Committee of the Mansion House Fund. By co-operation -with other local authorities the guardians might -offer more work at street sweeping, or cleaning—which -in poor London is never adequately done—under such -conditions of residence or providence as would prevent -immigration, but would be free of the degrading associations -of the stone-yards. The staff at the disposal of the -guardians would enable them to try the experiment more -effectively than was possible when a voluntary committee -without experience, time, or staff had to do everything.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>47</span></p> - -<p>By some such plans relief could be afforded to all who -belong to what may be called the lowest class; for the -assistance of those who could be helped by tools, emigration, -or money, the great Friendly Societies, the Society -for Relief of Distress, and the Charity Organisation -Society might act in conjunction. These societies are -unsectarian, are already organised, and may be developed -in power and tenderness to any extent by the addition -of members and visitors.</p> - -<p>These means and all means which are suggested seem -sadly inadequate, and in their very setting forth provoke -criticism. There are no effectual means but those which -grow in a Christian society. The force which, without -striving and crying, without even entering into collision -with it, destroyed slavery will also destroy poverty. -When rich men, knowing God, realise that life is giving, -and when poor men, also knowing God, understand that -being is better than having, then there will be none too -rich to enter the kingdom of heaven, and none too poor -to enjoy God’s world.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Samuel A. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - -<!--Chapter 3--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>48</span> - <h2 title="III. PASSIONLESS REFORMERS." id="ch03"><abbr title="3">III.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>PASSIONLESS REFORMERS.</i><a id="r31" href="#f31" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f31"> -<p><a href="#r31" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> Reprinted, by permission, from the <cite>Fortnightly Review</cite> of August 1882.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">The</span> mention of the poor brings up to most people’s -minds scenes of suffering, want, and misery. The vast -number of people who, while poor in money, are rich -in life’s good, who live quiet, thoughtful, dignified lives, -are forgotten, and the word ‘poor’ means to many -the class which we may call degraded. But the first -class is by far the largest, and the wide East End of -London (which the indolent think of only as revolting) -contains at a rough calculation, say, twenty of the -worthy poor to one of the degraded poor. It is curious -how widely spread is the reverse idea. Many times -have I been asked if I am not ‘afraid to walk in East -London,’ and an article on the People’s Entertainment -Society aroused, not unjustly, the anger of the East -London people at the writer’s descriptions of them and -of her fears for her personal safety while standing in -the Mile End Road! One lady, after a visit to St. -George’s-in-the-East and Stepney, expressed great astonishment -to find that the people lived in <em>houses</em>. -She had expected that they abode, not exactly in tents, -but in huts, old railway carriages, caravans, or squatted -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>49</span>against a wall. East Londoners will be glad to know -that she went back a wiser and not a sadder woman, -having learnt that riches are not necessary to refinement, -that some of the noblest characters are developed under -the enforced self-control of an income of a pound or -thirty shillings a week, that love lived side by side with -poverty without thought of exit by the window though -poverty had trodden a beaten path through the door, and -that books and ideas, though not plentiful enough to -become toys, were read, loved, and lived with until they -became part of the being of their possessors.</p> - -<p>But distinct from this class—among whom may be -counted some of the noblest examples of life—there is -the class of degraded poor. Here the want is not so much -a want of money (some of the trades, such as hawking, -flower-selling, shoe-blacking, occasionally bringing in as -much as from ten to twenty shillings a day) as the want -of the common virtues of ordinary life. In many of -these poor, the mere intellectual conception of principle, -as such, is absent; they have no moral ideal; spirituality -to them is as little understood in idea as in word. Sinning -(sensual low brutal sins) is the most common, the -to-be-expected course. The standard has got reversed, -and those who have turnings towards, and vague aspirations -for, better things too often find it impossible to -give these feelings practical expression in a society -where wrong is upheld by public opinion; where the only -test of right is the avoidance of being ‘nabbed’ by the -police; and the highest law is that expressed by the -magistrate.</p> - -<p>How can these people be raised to enjoy spiritual -life? Too often the symptoms are mistaken for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>50</span> -disease. In times of illness, bad weather, or depression -of their particular trade, their poverty is the one apparent -fact about them, and tender-hearted people rush eagerly -to relieve it. That poverty was but the natural result -of their sinful, self-indulgent lives; and by it they might -have learnt great lessons. The hands of the charity-giver -too often, in such cases, act as a screen between a -man and his Almighty Teacher. The physical suffering -which should have recalled to him his past carelessness -or sin is thus made of no avail. Mistaken love! gifts -cannot raise these people. Better houses, provident -clubs, savings banks, &c. are all useful and do necessary -work in forming a good ground in which the seed can -grow, but thought must be given lest such efforts leave -the people in the condition of more comfortable animals. -Materialism is already so strong a force in the world -that those who look deeper than the material part of -man should beware lest they accentuate what is, in -whatever form it appears—whether in the low sensuality -of the degraded or the enervating luxury of the æsthete—a -circumscribed, ungodly life.</p> - -<p>The stimulus of ‘getting on’ is also used, but it is -a dangerous influence, sapping ofttimes the one virtue -which is strong and beautiful in the lives of these people, -their communistic love; and if adopted by minds empty -of principle may become a new source of wrong. ‘Getting -on’ regardless of the means is but another way of going -back.</p> - -<p>Influences calling themselves religious are tried, and -chiefly, all honour be to them, by the evangelicals who, -filled with horror at what they hold to be the ultimate -fate of such masses, go fearlessly and perseveringly among<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>51</span> -them, preaching earnestly, if not always rationally, their -special tenets. Heaven, as a material place, they still -paint in the poetic terms which represented to the Oriental -mind the highest spiritual happiness, and is offered as a -reward to men imbued with the materialistic spirit of the -age, and living coarse and sensual lives. Hell, as a -place of physical suffering, is so often threatened that -it becomes to many people the most likely thing that -they shall go there. The story is perfectly true of the -clergyman who, preaching to one of these oft-threatened -congregations, tried to show them that sin (according to -his explanation removal from God) was hell, and that -the awfulness of hell did not consist in being a place -where the body would be uncomfortable, but in being a -state from which all good and God were absent. Walking -behind some of his hearers afterwards, he overheard, -‘Parson says there be’ant no hell, Dick. Where be you -and I to go then?’ Imagine feeling homeless because -there may be no hell!</p> - -<p>But even if the talk of hell still awakens some fear -and dread, it is again only a material horror—it but -exaggerates the importance of the body, and projects -into an after-death sphere the selfish animal life already -being led. This will not cultivate spirituality. No! -religion thus materialised is a dead-letter; it will not -feed the spiritual needs of the people. We have forgotten -the words of the Divine Teacher about casting -pearls before the swine, and the swine have turned again -and rent us. As an old Cornish coachman said the -other day in answer to a question about the services -of a church which we happened to be passing, ‘Ay, yes,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>52</span> -there’s a great advance in church activity, no doubt of -that, but little in spirituality somehow. The people’s -souls have been preached to death.’</p> - -<p>The religionists have taught until the people know -all and feel nothing; they have talked about religion -till it palls in the hearer’s ears. They have blasphemed -by asking <em>pity</em> for our Lord’s physical sufferings when -His thoughts and being were at <em>one</em> with God; when He -was exulting (as only noble souls can faintly conceive of -exultation) in His finished work.</p> - -<p>Religion has been degraded by these teachers until -it is difficult to gain the people’s ears to hear it. I have -often watched congregations who, keenly interested so -long as personal narratives are told, books discussed, or -allegories pictured, relax their attention so soon as religion -is reverted to, with an air which is told in every -muscle of ‘knowing all that.’ The story once humorously -told by the lamented Leonard Montefiore of his -experience as a Sabbath-school teacher is a little straw -showing withal the way of the stream. Feeling somewhat -at a loss as to what to teach, the class being a -strange one, he thought he would be safe in telling them -a Bible story; so he began on Moses’ history, painting, -as only he could paint for children’s minds, the conditions -of the times, making Egypt, with its gorgeous palaces -and age-defying temples, live again, showing the princess -as a very fairy one, and letting them see through his -well-cultivated mind the very age of Rameses. All went -well, the children breathless with interest, until he came -to the familiar incident of the little ark and the crying -babe—‘Oh! ’tis only Moses again!’ cried one boy, and -their interest vanished; they half felt they had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>53</span> -‘taken in,’ and for the remainder of the lesson they gave -him a bad time.</p> - -<p>The experience of many a popular preacher would, if -he confessed honestly, be much the same as Mr. Montefiore’s. -One body of evangelists, in order to attract -the people, started a band which, playing loud, blatant -marches or swinging hymn tunes, brought hundreds of -people, who sat and listened with interest to the music. -On its stopping and the preacher rising to speak, the -people got up and poured out through the large open -gate. The preacher paused, and on a sign the music -recommenced and the audience sat down again. Three -times was the effort made. No! though the preacher -was advertised as the converted swindler or gipsy, or -some such attractive title, it was of no avail. The people -would not listen to the ‘old, old story’—‘Bless you, -my children,’ said he, at last, sitting down in despair, -‘but I wish you’d mend yer manners.’ It was a larger -rent than their manners which wanted mending. These -people’s lives are already too full of excitement. There -is no rest nor repose in them. Dignity has given way -to hurry. To attract them to religion, further excitement -is often resorted to, and sensationalism with all -its vulgarity is brought to play upon the buried soul -which we are told we should ‘possess in quietness.’</p> - -<p>I was once present at a religious meeting where the -preacher narrated, with much gusto, accounts of sudden -and unexpected deaths and the ultimate fate of the dead -ones, making the ignorant audience feel fearful that their -every breath might be their last. Finding that even this -did not sufficiently stir the people, he pleaded that God -in His mercy ‘would shut the doors of hell—aye, even<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>54</span> -with a <em>bang</em>!’—for a few moments until he had saved -the souls before him. After the word ‘bang’ he paused -in an attitude of attention as if listening to hear the -slamming doors. The excitement was intense; many -weak-minded people went into hysterics and others hastened -to be converted and ‘made safe’ while the hell-doors -were shut. To such means have some religionists -reverted to teach the people the Gospel!</p> - -<p>No, alas! the old channels are no longer available -for the water of life; without it the people are dead, -live they ever so comfortably. A spiritual life is the -true life; as men become spiritualised, as the moral -ideal becomes the source of action, the old words and -forms may regain meaning. Phrases now to them -meaning nothing or only superstition will then express -their very being; but without a belief in the ideal they -are but empty words, like ‘the sounding brass or -tinkling cymbal.’</p> - -<p>How can these degraded people be given these priceless -gifts? The usual religious means have failed, the unusual -must be tried; we must deal with the people as -individuals, being content to speak, not to the thousands, -but to ones and twos; we must become the friend, -the intimate of a few; we must lead them up through -the well-known paths of cleanliness, honesty, industry, -until we attain the higher ground whence glimpses can -be caught of the brighter land, the land of spiritual -life.</p> - -<p>Hitherto the large number of the degraded people -have appalled the philanthropist; they have been spoken -of as the ‘lapsed masses’; and efforts to reach them -have not been considered successful unless the results<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>55</span> -can be counted by hundreds. But there is the higher -authority for the individual teaching; He whom all -men now delight to honour, whose life, words, and -actions are held up for imitation; He chose twelve only -to especially influence; He spent long hours in conversation -with single persons; He thought no incident too -trivial to inquire into, no petty quarrel beneath His interference. -We must know and be known, love and be -loved, by our less happy brother until he learn, through -the friend whom he has seen, knowledge of God whom -he has not seen. All this must be done, and not one stone -of practical helpfulness left unturned, and</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">God’s passionless reformers, influences</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That purify and heal and are not seen,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="noindent"> -<p>must be summoned also to give their aid. Among these -are flowers, not given in bundles nor loose, but daintily -arranged in bouquets, brought by the hand of the friend -who will stop to carefully dispose them in the broken jug -or cracked basin, so that they should lose none of their -beauty as long as the close atmosphere allows them to live: -flowers (without text-cards) left to speak their own message, -allowed to tell the story of perfect work without -speech or language; all the better preachers because so -lacking in self-consciousness.</p> -</div> - -<p>Not second among such reformers may be placed -high-class music, both instrumental and vocal, given in -schoolrooms, mission-rooms, and, if possible, in churches -where the traditions speak of worship, where the atmosphere -is prayerful, and where the arrangement of the -seats suggests kneeling; just the music without a form -of service, nor necessarily an address, only a hymn sung<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>56</span> -in unison and a blessing from the altar at the close. To -hear oratorios—<i>St. Paul</i>, the <i>Messiah</i>, <i>Elijah</i>, Spohr’s -<i>Last Judgment</i>—I have seen crowds of the lowest class, -some shoeless and bonnetless, and all having the ‘savour -of the great unwashed,’ sit in church for two hours at -a time quietly and reverently, the long lines of seated -folk being now and then broken by a kneeling figure, -driven to his knees by the glorious burst of sound which -had awakened strange emotions; while the almost breathless -silence in the solos has been occasionally interrupted -by a heart-drawn sigh.</p> - -<p>To trace the result is impossible and not advisable; -but who can doubt that in those moments, brief as they -were, the curtain of the flesh was raised and the soul -became visible, perhaps by the discovery startling its -possessor into new aspirations?</p> - -<p>One man came after such a service for help, not -money help, but because he was a drunkard, saying if ‘I -could hear music like that every night I should not need -the drink.’ It was but a feeble echo of St. Paul’s words, -‘Who can deliver me from the body of this death?’ -a cry—a prayer—which given to music might be borne -by the sweet messenger through heaven’s gate to the -very throne beyond.</p> - -<p>Then there are country visits; quiet afternoons in -the country, not ‘treats’ where numbers bring wild excitement, -and only the place, not the sort of amusement, -is changed; but where a few people spend an afternoon -quietly in the country, perhaps entertained at tea by a -kindly friend; parties at which there is time to <em>feel</em> the -quiet; where the moments are not so full of external -and active interests that there is no opportunity to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>57</span> -‘possess the soul’; parties at which there is a possibility -of ‘hush,’ in which, helped by Nature’s ritual, perfect -in sound, scent, and colour, silent worship can go on.</p> - -<p>For people spending long years in the close courts -and streets of ugly towns, the mere sight of nature -is startling, and may awaken longings, to themselves -strange, to others indescribable, but which are the -stirrings of the life within.</p> - -<p>The stories of great lives, and of other religions, very -simply told, as far as possible leaving out the foreign -conditions which confuse the ignorant mind, are sometimes -helpful. It is generally considered wise to hide -from children and untutored people the knowledge of other -religions, for fear it should awaken doubts concerning -their own; but in those cases where their own is so very -negative, it is often helpful to learn of faiths held by the -large masses of mankind. To hear that the great fundamental -ideas of all worships are similar would perhaps -suggest to the hearer that there might be more in it than -‘just parson stuff’ and lead him to inquire further; or, -if it did not do this, it would be some gain to remove the -ignorance which, more than familiarity, breeds contempt -of the despised foreigner.</p> - -<p>Once, after a talk about Egypt and its old religion, -the Osiris worship, the beautiful story of the virgin Isis, -and her son Horus, who was slain by Set, the King of -Evil, and rose again from the bosom of the Nile, I -heard it said, ‘They thought the same then, did they? -only called them different names.’ The largeness of -the idea caught the hearer; its universality bore testimony -to its truth. Would it not be helpful if our -religious teachers, instead of spending their precious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>58</span> -time denouncing the errors of other religions, would -take the truths running through the great stories common -to them all, and in an historical attitude of mind -show the growth of thought, the development of spirituality -till his hearers are brought face to face with the -Founder of our religion, who set the noblest example; -taught the purest doctrine; lived the highest spiritual -life; was in Himself, to use the Bible words, ‘the way, -the truth, and the life’?</p> - -<p>Again, to be quiet, to be alone are among influences -that purify. Every one when abroad has, I suppose, felt -the privilege of being able to go into the churches whenever -they wished. In our great towns the privilege is -equally needed, and, where the poor live, doubly so. -When one room has to be shared by the whole family, -sometimes including a lodger, there can be no quiet, and -loneliness is impossible. Some of the clergy are recognising -this want, and open their churches at other than -service times, but the practice is still rare. A notice -outside our church tells how those may enter who ‘wish -to think or pray in quietness.’ About ten a day use the -permission, some of them kneeling shyly in the side -aisle, as if their attitude were unwonted and caused -shame; others sitting quietly for a long time, as if weary -of the grind and noise outside; while sometimes men -come to make their mid-day prayer. Here again is a -means with invisible results; but quiet and loneliness -are possessions to which every one has a right, without -which it is difficult, almost impossible, to ‘commune -with God,’ and the gift of which is still to be given to -the poor.</p> - -<p>Then there is the beauty of Art, now almost entirely<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>59</span> -absent from the dwellings of the poor, and yet by them -so felt as a pleasure; the beauty of form and colour, -which it is possible to show in schoolroom and church -decoration; the beauty of light and brightness, the -beauty of growth to be seen in gardens and churchyards. -Outside our church are planted two Virginia creepers; -poor things they are, hardly to be recognised by their -relations in kindlier soil. But once, in a third-class -carriage, I was surprised to hear the church described as -the one ‘where the jennies growed.’</p> - -<p>It is easier now (thanks to the Kyrle Society and -Miss Harrison’s generous gifts of work) to make school -and mission rooms pretty. A beautiful workroom is a -very strong, though invisible, influence. One girl, who -had to leave our school on account of moving from the -neighbourhood, said quite naturally, among her regrets -at leaving and her description of the new school, ‘It is -so ugly it makes one not care.’</p> - -<p>The pictures in a schoolroom should be various, and, -if possible, often changed. Pictures of action or of historical -incidents are the most generally appreciated, but -pictures of flowers, fairy tales, landscapes, and sea are -suggestive.</p> - -<p>Picture galleries have hitherto been thought of chiefly -as pleasure places for the educated, or as schools for the -student. They can become mission-halls for the degraded. -It is easy to arrange visits with a few people -to the National Gallery, to the Kensington or Bethnal -Green Museums; it is not an unpleasant afternoon’s -work to guide little groups of people, just pointing out -this beautiful picture, or putting in a few words to explain -this or that historical allusion. I once took a girl—a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>60</span> -merry lassie, light-hearted, fond of pleasure, but in -danger of taking it at the expense of her character—to -the National Gallery. The little picture of Raphael’s, -where the women acting as the angels stand over the -sleeping knight, offering him the protecting shield, -opened to her a new truth. Here was a fresh possible -relation between man and woman, not the one of rough -jokes and doubtful fun, but a new connection not to be -despised, either, where the province of the woman was -to keep the man safe; a large lesson taught by dumb -lips and dead hands.</p> - -<p>When Sir Richard Wallace lent his pictures to the -Bethnal Green Museum, he not only brightened the eyes -of many used only to the drear monotony of East London, -but he taught one poor wretched woman with a whining -baby hanging on her thin breast a large lesson. Dirt -on child and mother showed her condition, and was a -dreary contrast to the Madonna with lovely crowing baby -before whom the little group paused. ‘Ah, yer could -easy enough “mother” such a baby as that now,’ was her -apologetic remark, showing that the picture had conveyed -the rebuke, and that the reverence born of faith in the -painter’s heart had not yet finished bearing fruit.</p> - -<p>It is but feebly that I have tried to show how such means -could be used to teach spirituality to the lowest classes. -It is not necessary to speak of school-lessons, lending -libraries, mothers’ meetings, night-schools, temperance -societies, and clubs; agencies for the good of the people -which are at work in every well-organised parish; neither -has mention been made of the communicants’ meetings, -prayer assemblies, church services, which are food to feed -and build up many of those who already recognise their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>61</span> -true life, and strive bravely, amid adverse circumstances, -to live it. We can all work at these in gladness and -thanksgiving. They are not so hard to persevere with, -for some result attends them. In meetings and classes -there is encouragement in the regularity and the appreciation -of the attendants. In services and prayer-meetings -there is the knowledge that they help and strengthen -the faint-hearted; but in the indirect means of helping -the degraded there is little encouragement, for there can -be no results. The highest work is often apparently -resultless, bringing no personal thanks, no world’s -applause; a failure, worthless labour, if judged by the -world’s standard of work; a success, worth doing, if it -open to a few, whom the usual means have failed to reach, -the great secret of true being, their spiritual life; a -buried life, buried but not dead.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Henrietta O. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - -<!--Chapter 4--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>62</span> - <h2 title="IV. TOWN COUNCILS AND SOCIAL REFORM." id="ch04"><abbr title="4">IV.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>TOWN COUNCILS AND SOCIAL REFORM.</i><a id="r41" href="#f41" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f41"> -<p><a href="#r41" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> Reprinted, by permission, from the <cite>Nineteenth Century</cite> of November -1883.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">Mr. Bright</span> has stated that in Glasgow 41,000 families -occupy single rooms. The statement caused no surprise -to those familiar with the poor quarters of our great -towns; their surprise has been that the statement should -cause surprise in any section of the community. It is, -indeed, surprising that people should think so little about -what they daily see, and should go on talking as if 20<i>s.</i> -or 30<i>s.</i> a week were enough to satisfy the needs of a -family’s life, and should be surprised that many persons -still occupy one room, endure hardship and die, killed by -the struggle to exist. It is surprising that reflection on -such subjects is not more common because, when facts -are stated, no defence is made for the present condition -of the people.</p> - -<p>Alongside of the growth of wealth during this age -there has been growth of the belief in the powers of human -nature, of the belief that in all men, independent of rank -and birth, there exist great powers of being. ‘Nothing -can breed such awe and fear as fall upon us when we -look into our minds, into the mind of man,’ expresses -the experience of many who do not use the poet’s words.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>63</span></p> -<p>Those who are conscious of what men may be and do -cannot be satisfied while the majority of Englishmen -live, in the midst of wealthy England, stinted and joyless -lives because they are poor.</p> - -<p>When facts, therefore, such as that referred to by -Mr. Bright are stated, no defence is made; and such -facts are common. Here are some:—(1) The death-rate -among the children of the poor is double that among the -children of the rich. Born in some small room, which -serves as the sleeping and living room of the family; -hushed to sleep by discordant noises from neighbouring -factories, refreshed by air laden with smoke and evil -odours, forced to find their play in the streets; without -country holiday or adequate medical skill, without sufficient -air, space, or water, the children die, and the -mothers among the poor are always weeping for their -children and cannot be comforted. (2) The occupants -of the prisons are mostly of one class—the poor. The -fact for its explanation needs no assumption that ‘the -poor in a lump are bad’; it is the natural result of their -condition. It is because children are ill developed or -unhealthily developed by life in the streets that they become -idlers, sharpers, or thieves. It is because families -are crowded together that quarrels begin and end in fights. -It is because they have not the means to hide their vices -under respectable forms that the poor go to prison and -not the rich. (3) The lives of the people are joyless. -The slaves of toil, worn by anxiety lest the slavery should -end, they have not leisure nor calm for thought; they -cannot therefore be happy, living in the thought of other -times, as those are happy who, in reading or travel, have -gathered memories to be the bliss of solitude, or as those<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>64</span> -who, ‘by discerning intellect,’ have found the best to be -‘the simple product of the common day.’ When work -ceases, the one resource is excitement; and thus their -lives are joyless. Anxiety consumes their powers in -pleasure as in work, the faces of the women lose their -beauty, and a woman of thirty looks old.</p> - -<p>These are facts patent to those who know our great -towns—the facts of life, not among a few of their -degraded inhabitants, but facts of the life of the majority -of the people. Let any one who does not know how his -neighbours live set himself the following sum. Given -20<i>s.</i> or 40<i>s.</i> a week wages, how to keep a family, pay rent -of 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> a week for each room, and lay up an adequate -amount for times of bad trade, sickness, and old age. As -the sum is worked out, as it is seen how one after another -the things which seem to make life worth living have to -be given up, and as it is seen how many ‘necessaries’ -are impossible, how many of the poor must put up with -a diet more scanty than that allowed to paupers, how all -must go without the leisure and the knowledge which -transmute existence into life—faith will be shaken in -many theories of social reform.</p> - -<p>Teetotal advocates will preach in vain that drunkenness -is the root of all evil, and that a nation of abstainers -will be either a healthy, a happy, or a thoughtful nation. -Thrift will be seen to be powerless to do more than to -create a smug and transient respectability, and even -those who are ‘converted’ will not claim to be raised by -their faith out of the reach of early death and poverty -into a life which belongs to their nature as members in -the human family.</p> - -<p>Theories of reform which do not touch the conditions<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>65</span> -in which the people live, which do not make possible for -them fuller lives in happier circumstances, are not satisfactory. -The conversion of sinners—at any rate while -the sinners are sought chiefly among the poor—the emigration -of children, the spread of thrift and temperance -among the workpeople, will still leave families occupying -single rooms and the sons of men the joyless slaves of -work; a state of society for which no defence can be -made.</p> - -<p>It is only a larger share of wealth which can increase -comfort and relieve men from the pressure brought on -them by the close atmosphere of great towns; which can, -in a word, give to all the results of thought and open to -all the life which is possible. If it be that the return for -fair land laid waste by mines and engines is wider -knowledge of men and things, it is only the rich who now -enjoy this return and it is only wealth which can make -it common. And since any distribution of wealth in the -shape of money relief would be fatal to the independence -of the people, the one satisfactory method of social reform -is that which tends to make more common the good -things which wealth has gained for the few. The nationalisation -of luxury must be the object of social reformers.</p> - -<p>The presence of wealth is so obvious that the attempts -to distribute its benefits both by individuals and by -societies have been many. Individuals have given their -money and their time; their failure is notorious, and -societies have been formed to direct their efforts. The -failure of these societies is not equally notorious, but -few thinkers retain the hope that societies will reform -Society and make the conditions of living such that -people will be able to grow in wisdom and in stature to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>66</span> -the full height of their manhood. If it were a sight -to make men and angels weep to see one rich man -struggling with the poverty of a street, making himself -poor only to make others discontented paupers, it is -as sad a sight to see societies hopelessly beaten and -hardened into machines with no ‘reach beyond their -grasp.’ The deadness of these societies or their ill-directed -efforts has roused in the shape of Charity -Organisation workers a most striking missionary enterprise. -The history of the movement as a mission has yet -to be written; the names of its martyrs stand in the list -of the unknown good; but the most earnest member of a -Charity Organisation Society cannot hope that organised -almsgiving will be powerful so to alter conditions as to -make the life of the poor a life worth living.</p> - -<p>Societies which absorb much wealth, and which relieve -their subscribers of their responsibility, are failing; it -remains only to adopt the principle of the Education Act, -of the Poor Law, and of other socialistic legislation, and -call on Society to do what societies fail to do. There is -much which may be urged in favour of such a course. -It is only Society, or, to use the title by which Society -expresses itself in towns, it is only Town Councils, which -can cover all the ground and see that each locality gets -equal treatment. It is by common action that a healthy -spirit becomes common, and the tone of public opinion -may be more healthy when the Town Council engages -in good-doing than when good-doing is the monopoly -of individuals or of societies. If nations have been -ennobled by wars undertaken against an enemy, towns -may be ennobled by work undertaken against the evils -of poverty.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>67</span></p> - -<p>Through the centuries the sense of the duties of -Society has been growing. Some earnest men may regret -the limit placed on individual action and the failure of -societies, but the change they regret is more apparent -than real. The Town Councils are, indeed, the modern -representatives of the Church and of other societies, -through which in older times individuals expressed their -hope and work, and to these bodies falls the duty of -effecting that social reform which will help the poor to -grow to the stature of the life of men.</p> - -<p>The problem before them is one much more of ways -than of means. If poverty is depressing the lives of the -people, the wealth by which it may be relieved is superabundant. -On the one side, there is disease for the want -of food and doctors; on the other side there is disease -because of food and doctors. In one part of the town -the women cease to charm for want of finery; in the other -they cease to please from excess of finery. It is for -want of money that the streets in which the poor live -are close, ill-swept, and ill-lighted; that the ‘East Ends’ -of towns have no grand meeting-rooms and no beauty. -It is through superfluity of money that the entertainments -of the rich are made tiresome with music, and their -picture galleries made ugly with uninteresting portraits. -There is no want of means for making better the condition -of the people; and there has ever been sufficient -good-will to use the means when the way has been clear. -To discover the way is the problem of the times.</p> - -<p>Some way must be found which, without pauperising, -without affecting the spirit of energy and independence, -shall give to the inhabitants of our great towns the -surroundings which will increase joy and develop life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>68</span></p> - -<p>The first need is better dwellings. While the people -live without adequate air, space, or light in houses where -the arrangements are such that privacy is impossible, it -is hopeless to expect that they will enjoy the best things. -The need has been recognised, and, happily without -going to Parliament, Town Councils may do much to -meet the need. It is in their power to enforce sanitary -improvements, to make every house healthy and clean, -and to provide common rooms which will serve as -libraries or drawing-rooms. If it is not in their power -to reduce rents, it is possible for them to pull down -unfit buildings, and sell the ground to builders at a low -price, on condition that such builders shall provide -extra appliances for the health and pleasure of the -people.</p> - -<p>Insanitary conditions and high rents are the points -to which consideration must be directed. Builders to-day -build houses on the fiction that each house will be -occupied by one family. The fact that two or three -families will at once take possession is kept out of sight, -while the parlour, drawing-room, and single set of offices -are finished off to suit the requirements of an English -home. The fiction ends in the creation of evils on -which medical officers write reports, and of other evils -which, like Medusa’s head, are best seen by the shadow -they cast on Society.</p> - -<p>The insanitary conditions constitute one difficulty -connected with the dwellings of the poor; the rent for -adequate accommodation which absorbs one quarter of -an irregular income constitutes another. To cure the -insanitary conditions ample power exists; to even suggest -a means for lowering rents is not so easy. Perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>69</span> -it might be possible for the community to sell the -ground it acquires at some low price, on condition that -the rents of the newly built houses should never exceed -a certain rate, and that the occupier should always have -the right of purchase. Such a condition is not, however, -at present legal, and is of doubtful expediency. It is now -possible for Town Councils to acquire land under the -Artisans’ Dwellings Act, and to sell it cheaply on condition -that the rooms are of a certain size and provided -with certain appliances; that special arrangements are -made for washing and cleaning, and that a common -room is at the disposal of a certain number of families.</p> - -<p>The improvement cannot be made without what is -called a loss—that is to say, the Town Councils cannot -sell land for the building of fit dwellings at the same -price for which the land had been acquired. Money -will in one sense be lost; and this phrase has such -power that, though the need is recognised, the Act by -which the need could be met has in most towns remained -a dead letter. In Liverpool, where, according to official -reports, the state of the dwellings is productive of fever -and destructive of common decency, the Act has never -been applied. In Manchester, where it is acknowledged -to be the object of the Town Council to protect the -health of the people, it is stated in the last report that -the Act involves too great an outlay to be workable. -The London Metropolitan Board of Works, which spends -its millions wisely and unwisely, has striven to show -that the application of the Act would lay too great a -burden on the ratepayers. It is impossible, it is said, to -house the poor at such a cost. It would not seem -impossible if it were recognised that to spend money in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>70</span> -housing the poor is a way of making the wealth of the -town serve the needs of the town. It would not seem -impossible if Town Councils recognised that on them -has come the care of the people, and that money is not -lost which is returned in longer and better life.</p> - -<p>Other needs exist, hardly second to that of better -dwellings, and these it is in the power of local authorities -to meet, in a way of which few reformers seem to be -aware. The Town Councils may provide means of recreation -and instruction—libraries, playgrounds, and -public baths. School Boards may provide, not only -elementary instruction, but give a character to education, -and use their buildings as centres for the meetings, -classes, and recreation of the old scholars. Boards of -Guardians may make their relief, not only a means of -meeting destitution, but a means of educating the independence -of the strong and of comforting the sorrows of -the weak. We can imagine these boards, the councils of -the town, endowed with greater powers; but with those -they already possess they could change the social conditions -and remove abuses for which Englishmen make -no defence.</p> - -<p>Wise Town Councils, conscious of the mission they -have inherited, could destroy every court and crowded -alley and put in their places healthy dwellings; they -could make water so cheap and bathing-places so common -that cleanliness should no longer be a hard virtue; -they could open playgrounds, and take away from a -city the reproach of its gutter-children; they could -provide gardens, libraries, and conversation-rooms, and -make the pleasures of intercourse a delight to the poor, -as it is a delight to the rich; they could open picture<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>71</span> -galleries and concerts, and give to all that pleasure -which comes as surely from a common as from a private -possession; they could light and clean the streets of the -poor quarters; they could stamp out disease, and by enforcing -regulations against smoke and all uncleanness -limit the destructiveness of trade and lengthen the span -of life; they could empty the streets of the boys and -girls, too big for the narrow homes, too small for the -clubs and public-houses, by opening for them playrooms -and gymnasia; they could help the strong and hopeful -to emigrate; they could give medicine to heal the sick, -money to the old and poor, a training for the neglected, -and a home for the friendless.</p> - -<p>With this power in the hands of Town Councils, and -with our great towns in such a state that a fact as to -their condition shocks the nation, there is no need to -wait for parliamentary action. The course on which the -authorities are asked to enter is no untried one.</p> - -<p>There are local bodies which have applied the Artisans’ -Dwellings Act and cleared away houses or hovels, of which -the medical officers’ descriptions are not fit for repetition -in polite society. There are those who have built, and -more who are ready to build, houses which shall at -any rate give the people healthy surroundings, possibilities -of home life and of common pleasures, even when -a family can afford only a single room. And, although -the London School Board’s buildings and playgrounds -are occupied only during a few hours in each week, there -are schools which are used for meetings, for classes in -higher education, and for Art Exhibitions, and there are -playgrounds which are open all day and every day to all -comers. The way in which Guardians have in some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>72</span> -unions made the system of relief in the highest sense -educational is now an old tale. It has been shown that -out-relief, with its demoralising results, may be abolished; -it is being shown that a workhouse with trade masters -and ‘mental instructors’ may be a reformatory; and it -is not beyond the hope of some Boards that a system of -medical relief may be developed adequate to the needs of -the people. Public bodies here and there are showing -what it is in their power to do, but at present their -efforts hardly make any mark; they must become -general.</p> - -<p>The first practical work is to rouse the Town Councils -to the sense of their powers; to make them feel that their -reason of being is not political but social, that their duty -is not to protect the pockets of the rich, but to save the -people. It is for reformers in every town to direct all -their force on the Town Councils, to turn aside to no -scheme, and to start no new society, but to urge, in -season and out of season, that the care of the people is -the care of the community, and not of any philanthropic -section—is, indeed, the care of Society, and not of societies. -‘The People, not Politics,’ should be their cry; -and they should see that the power is in the hands of -men, irrespective of party or of class, who care for the -people. This is the first practical work, one in which all -can join, whether he serves as elector or elected. It may -be that efficient administration will show that without -an increase of rating a sufficient fund may be found to -do all that needs doing; but, if this is not the case, the -social interest which is aroused will act on Parliament, -and that body will be diverted from its party politics to -consider how, by some change in taxation, by progressive<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>73</span> -rating, by a land-tax, or by some other means, the money -can be raised to do what must be done.</p> - -<p>The means, I repeat, is a matter for the future; the -battle is to be won at the municipal elections; it is there -the cry ‘The People, not Politics’ must be raised, and it -is the councils of the town which can work the social -reform. If it be urged that when Town Councils do for -social reform all which can be done, the condition will -still be unsatisfactory, I agree. Wealth cannot supply -the needs of life, and many who have all that wealth -can give are still without the life which is possible to -men. The town in which houses shall be good, health -general, and recreation possible, may be but a whited -sepulchre. No social reform will be adequate which -does not touch social relations, bind classes by friendship, -and pass, through the medium of friendship, the -spirit which inspires righteousness and devotion.</p> - -<p>If, therefore, the first practical work of reformers -be to rouse Town Councils, their second is to associate -volunteers who will work with the official bodies. We -may here regret the absence of a truly National Church. -If in every parish Church Boards existed representative -of every religious opinion and expressive of every form -of philanthropy, they would be the centres round which -such volunteers would gather and prove themselves to be -an agency ready to their hand. While we hope for such -boards there is no need to wait to act.</p> - -<p>As a rule, it may be laid down that the voluntary work -is most effective when it is in connection with official -work. The connection gives a backbone, a dignity to -work, which has lost something in the hands of Sunday-school -teachers and district visitors. In every town<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>74</span> -volunteers in connection with official work are wanted. -It is doubtful, indeed, if the tenements occupied by the -least instructed classes could be kept in order, or the -people made to live up to their better surroundings, if -the rent collecting were not put in the hands of volunteers -with the time to make friends and the will to have -patience with the tenants. At any rate, wherever official -work is done there will be something for volunteers to -supply.</p> - -<p>Guardians want those who will consider the poor; -men who will visit the workhouse to rouse those too idle -or too depressed to work, and to find help for those who -by sickness or ill-chance have lost their footing in the -rush for living. They want those who, knowing what -wages can do and cannot do, will serve on relief committees, -will see the poor in their distress, and, giving -or not giving, will try to make them understand that -care does not cease. They want also women who will -be friends to the sick and, more than that, befriend the -girls who drift wretched to the workhouse, or go out -lonely from the pauper schools. School Boards want -those who, visiting the schools, will seek out the children -who are fit for country holidays, visit the homes, and do -something to follow up the education between the years -of thirteen and twenty-one.</p> - -<p>Wherever there is an institution, a reading-room, a -club, or a playground there is work for volunteers. It -may not be that the volunteers will seem to do much; -they will be certain to do something. They will be certain -to make links between the classes, and lead both -rich and poor to give up habits which keep them apart. -They will be certain to add strength to the public<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>75</span> -opinion, which by the bye will relieve those whose -higher life is destroyed by excess or by want. They will -be certain to do something, and if they carry into their -work a spirit of devotion, a faith in the high calling of -the human race, and a love for its weakest members, -there is no limit which can be placed on what they will -do. They will put into the sound body the sound mind; -into the well-ordered town citizens who ‘feel deep, think -clear, and bear fruit well.’</p> - - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Samuel A. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - -<!--Chapter 5--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>76</span> - <h2 title="V. ‘AT HOME’ TO THE POOR." id="ch05"><abbr title="5">V.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>‘AT HOME’ TO THE POOR.</i><a id="r51" href="#f51" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f51"> -<p><a href="#r51" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> Reprinted, by permission, from the <cite>Cornhill Magazine</cite> of May 1881.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">Few</span> people realise the extreme dulness of the lives of -the poor. Cut off from the many interests which education -or the possession of money gives, they have little -left but the ‘trivial round, the common task,’ which -indeed furnishes them with ‘room to deny themselves,’ -but is hardly, in their case at least, ‘the road to bring -them daily nearer God.’</p> - -<p>‘People must be amuthed,’ is the caricatured statement -of a true human need, and the terrible and often -deplored attraction of the public-house has its root not -so much in the love of strong drink as in the want of -interest and desire for amusement felt by the lower -classes of the poor. This is especially true with regard -to the women and to those men who cannot read. Unable -to comprehend the ever-living interest of watching public -affairs, prevented by ignorance from following, even in -outline, the actions of the nations, they are thrown back -on the affairs of their neighbours, and centre all their -interest in the sayings and doings of quarrelsome Mr. -Jones or much-abused Mrs. Smith.</p> - -<p>It is difficult for those of us to whom the world seems -almost too full of interests to realise the deadening dulness -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>77</span>of some of these lives. Let us imagine, for an -instant, all knowledge of history, geography, art, science, -and language blotted out; all interests in politics, -social movements, and discoveries obliterated; no society -pleasures to anticipate; no trials of skill nor tests of -proficiency in work or play to look forward to; no money -at command to enable us to plan some pleasure for a -friend or dependent; no books always at hand, the old -friends waiting silently till their acquaintance is renewed, -the new ones standing ready to be learnt and loved; -no opportunities of getting change of scene and idea; no -memories laden with pleasures of travel; no objects of -real beauty to look at. What would our lives become? -And yet this is a true picture of the lives of thousands -of the poorer classes, whose time is passed in hard, -monotonous work, or occupied in the petty cares of -many children, and in satisfying the sordid wants of the -body. In some cases precarious labour adds the element -of uncertainty to the other troubles, an element which, -by the fact of its bringing some interest, is enjoyed by -the men, but which adds tenfold to the many cares of -the housewife.</p> - -<p>It is not easy to see how the poor themselves can get -out of this atmosphere of dulness. They can hardly -give parties, even if the cost of entertaining were not a -sufficient barrier; the extreme smallness of the rooms -entirely prevents social intercourse, not to mention the -hindrance caused by the necessity for putting the children -to bed in the course of the evening, and by all the many -discomforts consequent on the one room being bedroom, -parlour, kitchen, and scullery. But even supposing -there are two rooms, or few children, the difficulties of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>78</span> -entertaining are not yet over. With minds so barren, -conversation can hardly be the source of much amusement, -and music and dancing are almost impossible with -no instrument to help and no space where even the little -feet can patter.</p> - -<p>But it is possible for the ignorant as well as the cultured -to enjoy Nature. And it is often a subject of -wonder why the poor living in such close streets or -alleys, surrounded with such unlovely objects, do not -take more trouble to get out into the country or enjoy -the parks. ‘Only sixpence, you say,’ said a hard-working -pale body to me one day when I was urging her to -go on one of her enforced idle afternoons to get air and -see some refreshing beauty at Hampstead. ‘Well, yer -see, I could hardly go without the three children, and -that’s 1<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i>; besides they’d be a deal hungrier when -they came home than perhaps I could manage for.’</p> - -<p>What could be said to the last argument? Just -fancy having to consider, otherwise than pleasurably, -the increased appetite of one of our young ones fresh -from a day by the sea or in the country?</p> - -<p>But, apart from the money question, the desire to go -into the country after a time wears off, even among those -who have before lived in pure air and among country -sights and scenes; people get used to their dull, sordid -surroundings; the memory of fairer sights grows dim, -and the imagination is not strong enough to conjure -them up again.</p> - -<p>‘Shure, I ain’t been in the country this fifteen year,’ -an old woman once startled me by saying at a country -party; ‘and if it hadn’t been for your note ’ere it would -ha’ been another fifteen year afore I’d ha’ seen it.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>79</span></p> - -<p>And she was not so poor, this old lady; 7<i>s.</i> a week, -perhaps, and 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> to pay for rent. It was not her -poverty which prevented her seeing the fifteen fair -springs which had passed since she came from the -Green Isle. No! it was just the want of power to make -the effort—a loss to her far more serious than the loss -of the sight of the country. As the late James Hinton -used to say, ‘The worst thing is to be in hell and not -know it is hell’; perhaps the best thing one can do for -another is to give him the glimpse of heaven, which, -letting in the light, shows the blackness of hell.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t you think green is God’s favourite colour?’ -asked an old lady, the thought being suggested as we -stood together in a forest of soft green. ‘Well, I can’t -say,’ was the answer; ‘look at the sky; how blue that is.’ -‘Yes, but that isn’t always blue, and the earth is ’most -always green.’</p> - -<p>Does it not seem a pity that this old poet soul, so -fit to teach God’s lessons, should live all through the -summer days in one room, shared by four other people, -seeing only the mud colours of London, which certainly -are not God’s favourite colours. It was this same old -lady who said on receiving her first invitation, ‘All the -years I’ve lived in London I was never asked to go into -the country before you asked me.’</p> - -<p>But the want of pleasure and change is no newly discovered -need of the poor. School-treats and excursions -and bean-feasts have been organised and carried out -almost since Sunday-schools have existed and congregations -had a corporate life. Every summer sees the -columns of the newspapers used to ask for money to -give 900, 1,000, 2,000 children ‘one day in the country,’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>80</span> -and when the money is obtained and the day arrives, the -children are packed into vans or a special train and -turned into the woods or fields to enjoy themselves (and -tease the frogs) until tea, buns, and hymns bring the -‘’appy day’ to an end. Good days these, full of pleasure -and health-giving exercise, but perhaps mixed with too -large an element of excitement to teach the children to -enjoy the country for its own sake, to enable them to learn -in Dame Nature’s lap ‘that we can feed this mind of ours -in a wise passiveness.’</p> - -<p>Neither have the clergy overlooked this need as existing -among their grown people, and most of those working -in poor neighbourhoods organise an annual ‘Treat,’ -each person paying, say, 1<i>s.</i>, to be met by the 6<i>d.</i> from -the Pastor’s Fund. These treats sometimes assume the -enormous proportions of 2,000 or 3,000 persons. All -carry their mid-day meal to be eaten when and how they -like. The assembling for tea and a few speeches by the -rector and those in authority are the only means taken -to bring the people together and to introduce the sense -of host and guest. And with the memory of the 1<i>s.</i> paid, -this sense is very difficult either to arouse or maintain. -But, good as in many ways these treats are, they do not -do all they might. They do not introduce fresh experiences, -an acquaintance with other lives, the interest of -new knowledge.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">We receive but what we give,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And in our life alone does nature live,</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="noindent"> -<p>as Coleridge puts it; and such sadly empty minds want -the interpretation of the friendly eye to make them see -what they went out ‘for to see.’</p> -</div> - -<p>Struck with these ideas, we determined to try another<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>81</span> -method of entertaining our neighbours; and believing -that they had the same need of social intercourse as that -felt by the rich, and taking for granted that the kind of -country entertainment most prevalent among the rich -was that most enjoyed, we based our parties on the -same foundation, remembering always that the minds of -the poor being emptier, more active entertainment was -needed, and that the party to which we invited them was -perhaps the one day’s outing in the whole year, the one -glimpse that they had (apart from divorce suits) into the -lives and habits of the richer classes.</p> - -<p>On talking over our plan with friends who, living in -the suburbs of London, had the necessary garden, it was -not long before we received kindly invitations to take -thirty, forty, fifty, of our neighbours to spend the afternoon -in the country. The day and hour fixed, it was left -with us to decide which guests should be invited, and to -pass on the invitation. Sometimes our hosts particularly -wish to entertain children as well as grown people; and if -so, we include the children in the invitation; but on the -whole, experience has taught that those parties are most -thoroughly enjoyed from which the children are omitted. -This will not be misunderstood when it is remembered -that these mothers and fathers have their children, -perhaps seven, all small together, constantly with them -for 365 days in the year, both day and night; that the -children become noisy and excited in the country, and -that each child’s noise, though it may be music in the ear -of its mother, can hardly be anything but what it is, -<em>disagreeable sounds</em>, in the ears of its mother’s neighbour. -Another objection to the presence of the children is the -extreme difficulty of entertaining them and the grown<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>82</span> -people together. To the social gatherings of other classes -it is not the rule to invite children with their parents, and -the taste or feeling which forbids such a rule is common -to the poor.</p> - -<p>It is not difficult, knowing many people who would be -glad of a day’s outing, to pass on such invitations; but it -is pleasanter, if it can be so arranged, that the guests -should beforehand be acquainted with each other. For -that reason it is better to invite together the members -of a mothers’ meeting and their husbands, the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><i>habitués</i></span> -of a club, the inhabitants of one block of buildings, the -denizens of a particular court, the singing-class, the -members of any society who worship, work, or learn together—in -short, those who unite for any purpose.</p> - -<p>There are other advantages in this plan besides the -obvious one of the guests being already acquainted. -Those who have hitherto seen each other’s character -from the work point of view only now get another standpoint, -and the day’s pleasure, together with the hearty -laugh and the many-voiced songs, does more than many -a pastoral address can do to teach forgiveness and break -down barriers raised by quarrels—quarrels which more -often owe their origin to close neighbourhoods than to bad -tempers. ‘Now she ain’t such a bad ’un as one would -think, considering the way she behaved to my Billy—is -she now?’ is a true remark illustrating what I would say.</p> - -<p>The guests chosen, the invitations go out in the usual -form: ‘Mrs. So-and-So,’ mentioning our hostess’s name, -‘hopes to have the pleasure of seeing Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So -on Monday, 14th, to spend the afternoon in the -country,’ and then follow the time of the train and the -name of the station where the rendezvous is to be held.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>83</span> -Added to these the friends connected in any way with -the expected guests, the district visitor, the superintendent -of the mothers’ meeting, the lady rent-collector -are also invited; as well as those who have gifts of -entertaining or those to whom we wish to introduce our -neighbours. A train is generally chosen between one -and two o’clock, so as to enable the man to get a half-day’s -work and the woman to see to necessary household -duties and give the children their dinner before she -starts.</p> - -<p>On reaching the country station the party rambles -through the lanes, picking grasses and flowers, taking, -if possible, a détour before arriving at the host’s house. -‘Why, the <em>trees</em> smell,’ exclaimed one town-bred woman -in almost awe-struck astonishment, standing under a -lilac-tree. ‘Don’t it make one feel gentle-like!’ was -another remark made more to himself than to anyone -else, which came from a rough one-legged board-man, as -he stood overlooking a quiet, far-stretching scene near -Wimbledon.</p> - -<p>Unless one has lived in close streets and amid noise -and grinding hurry, it is difficult to understand the -pleasures of these walks. The sweetness of the air, the -quiet which can be felt, the very fact of strolling in the -road without looking out to avoid being run over, are a -relief, and the absence of the ever-present anxiety of the -care of the children is a great addition to the irresponsible -enjoyment of the day.</p> - -<p>The destination reached, it is a great help if the host -and hostess will come out to meet and welcome the party, -as is customary towards guests of other classes. By -this simple courtesy the tone is at once given, and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>84</span> -people feel themselves not brought out to a ‘treat’ but -invited and welcomed as guests. I have seen men, among -whom we were told when we first went to Whitechapel it -was not ‘safe’ to go alone, entirely changed by the bearing -of their hosts to them, and the determination with -which they set out, to have a ‘lark,’ at whatever inconvenience -to others, gradually melt away under the influence -of being treated as gentlemen. ‘Why, she said -she was glad to see me,’ said a low, coarse fellow, taking -as a personal compliment to himself the conventional -form of expression.</p> - -<p>The duty of introducing and welcoming over, we are -glad if we find tables on a shady lawn or under a tent -ready spread and waiting for us. In the excitement of -getting off, the midday meal taken hurriedly has probably -been a slight one, and the walk and unwonted fresh -air have given good appetites. Sometimes our hostess -has made arrangements that all the party should take -their food together, and this is the better plan if it can -be managed. ‘Why, the gentry is sitting down with us. -Now I do call <em>that</em> comfortable like,’ was overheard on one -occasion when this arrangement had been followed. If -the one class waits on the other it but emphasises the -painful class distinctions so sadly prominent in the ordinary -affairs of life, and the feeling aroused in the minds -of the people as they see the richer members of the -party taken by the hostess to the house to have ‘something -to eat’ is not always amiable, the ‘something’ -being interpreted as better, anyhow other than that -provided for them, or why should it not have been taken -together?</p> - -<p>The repast given by our many kindly hosts during<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>85</span> -these eight summers of parties has been various. Some -add eggs and bacon to the tea and cakes; others give a -large joint, which is even more enjoyed, a cut off a good -14 lb. sirloin of beef being a rare luxury in the ordinary -dietary of the working classes, while others again offer -tea, differing only in quantity from the ordinary afternoon -meal which is commonly taken between lunch and dinner. -Some of our hosts give every variety of cake, such as -Scotch housewives delight in making, though I remember -one lady who, while most kind and anxious to give pleasure, -told me, as if it were an additional advantage, that -she had ‘had all the cakes made very plain, and that -they were all baked the day before yesterday.’</p> - -<p>The meal over, the real pleasure of the day begins, -and this must entirely depend on the capabilities of the -hostess for entertaining and on the possibilities of the -garden. If it is large, there is nothing townpeople like -better than to saunter about, to wander in the shrubberies, -to see the hothouses, conservatories, ferneries, especially -if some one will be the guide and point out what is interesting, -this spot where the best view is to be obtained, -that curious flower, and tell the story hanging on this -queerly shaped tree. ‘Aye, aye, ma’am, it’s all very -beautiful, but to my mind you’re the beautifullest flower -of the lot,’ was the spontaneous compliment elicited from -a weather-beaten costermonger to the stately old lady -who had taken pains to show him her garden, and though -the remark was greeted with shouts of laughter from the -surrounding group, the ‘Well, he ain’t far wrong, I’m -sure,’ showed that the words had only spoken out the -thoughts of many.</p> - -<p>Sometimes the men go off to play cricket or bowls, to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>86</span> -see the puppies or horses, or some other beasts particularly -interesting to the masculine mind; or perhaps the -interminable game of rounders occupies all the time. -Sometimes swings, see-saws, or a row on the pond are -great amusements. ‘Oh dear, I think I’ve only just -learnt to enjoy myself,’ gasped one buxom woman of -fifty, breathless with swinging her neighbour, whose face -told that her life’s holidays could without difficulty be -counted; while, to a few, the fact of sitting still and -looking out and feeling the quiet is pleasure enough. -‘I seem to see further than ever I saw before,’ murmured -a pale young mother, sitting on the Upper Terrace at -Hampstead, and as she said it she looked as if the sight -of the country just then, when her eyes were reopened -by her new motherhood, might, in another sense, make -her see farther than she had ever seen before.</p> - -<p>If the garden is small and its resources soon ended, -games must be resorted to, and such games as ‘tersa,’ -where running and motion are enjoyed; the ‘ring and -the string,’ when eyes and ears must be on the alert; -or ‘blow the candle blindfold’; all cause hearty fun, -especially when the unconscious blindfold, having walked -crookedly, energetically blows, as he thinks, at the candle, -which is still burning steadily a yard or two from him. On -some of these occasions the hostess has had her carriage -out, and by taking four or five of the guests at a time -all have been able to have a short drive, and see from a -higher elevation something more of the country, ‘Well, -I don’t know that I was ever in a carriage before,’ said -one woman, who could hardly be said to have been <em>in</em> -one then, as she dismounted from the box. ‘Except at -funerals,’ corrected her neighbour. Might not some of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>87</span> -the extraordinary liking, which is so common among the -poor, for attending funerals be partly for the sake of the -rare event of a drive? Occasionally it is possible to -get up a dance, with the help of a fiddle or piano, and -many a pale, worn face has lost, for the time at least, -its stamp of weariness as it grew interested in the ups -and downs of ‘Sir Roger de Coverley.’ ‘Bless me, if I -ever thought to do any dancing, except the dancing of -babbies,’ was an unexpected comment from my partner -on one occasion; and many times have I since been -referred to to confirm the fact that ‘You did see me -dancing, didn’t you, ma’am?’</p> - -<p>Besides these active pleasures, there is the enjoyment -of music, the love and appreciation of which is so deep -and warm in these uncultured minds; music which more -than anything else helps to smooth away class as well -as other inequalities. I have seen rough low-class men -and women leave their active games or the swing for -which they had been waiting and cluster round the -singer or musician begging for another and yet ‘another -bit.’ What they like best is a song with a chorus, or -historical songs where they can hear the words, and next -to these solemn music on a harmonium or organ; but -any music charms them, and the hostess who is either -musical herself or who invites her musical friends to -help her finds the task of entertaining much easier. -An oft-repeated mistake is that the poor like comic -songs about themselves, and ‘Betsy Waring’ has been -suggested and sung at our parties more often than I like -to remember. A moment’s sympathetic thought will -show, however, that the poor want other and wider -interests, and it can hardly be the kindliest method of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>88</span> -amusing them to sing them a song, the joke of which -lies in imitations and ‘take-offs’ of their mispronunciation. -It is, too, generally thought that the uneducated -cannot appreciate what is commonly understood as ‘good -music,’ but this, too, is a mistake. Long years ago I -remember Mrs. Nassau Senior coming to a night-school -of rough girls, held in a rough court. That evening -some street row was more attractive than A B C, and -our scholars were clustered around the heroine of the -fight. I can still see the picture made by Mrs. Senior -as she stood and sang in the doorway of the schoolroom, -which opened directly on to the court, and among -such surroundings it was a deep-sighted sympathy which -led her to choose ‘Angels ever bright and fair.’ For -long afterwards she was remembered as ‘the lady who -came and sang about the angels, and looked like one -herself.’</p> - -<p>It is well if the hostess can bring her instrument -to the window, so that the people can hear as they sit on -the lawn outside and enjoy the air; perhaps she may -find it possible to ask two or three of her guests who -can sing, with strong, sweet, though untrained voices, to -join her in a duet or glee, and helping, they enjoy the -pleasure with the helper’s joy. Occasionally one of the -party may have brought an accordion with which to -aid the impromptu concert, or some one will recall the -piece of poetry committed to memory long years ago, -and then we have a recitation, which pleases none the -less because it is ‘Jim Straw’s one bit,’ and has been -heard a few times before. If it be wet or windy the -hostess may ask her guests into the drawing-room. -‘You did not see the drawing-room, did you, mum?’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>89</span> -asked one of the guests after a party which I had been -obliged to leave early; ‘it was lovely, and we all sat -there quite friendly-like and listened to the music. I -<em>did</em> like the look of that room.’ Very pregnant of -influence are these introductions into a house scrupulously -clean and tastily furnished—a house kept as the -dwelling of every human being should be kept. Do we -not know ourselves, if we go to visit a friend with a -higher standard of art, morals, or culture, how subtle is -the influence; how from such visits (albeit unconsciously, -or at least hardly with deliberate resolve) is dated the -turning towards the new light, the intention to be more -perfect?</p> - -<p>One lady, with the real feeling of hostess-ship, took -her Whitechapel guests, as she would any others, into a -bedroom to take their outdoor things off. Touching, if -amusing, was the remark of a girl of fifteen or thereabouts -who, turning to her mother, said, ‘Look, mother, -here’s a bed with a room all to itself!’ ‘Has any one -really slept in this white bed?’ was asked by another of -that same party. While to others of a rather higher -class, who have been servants before marriage, the reintroduction -to such a house is a great pleasure, though -to them not such a revelation as it is to those who have -passed all their lives in factories or workshops. It is a -welcome reminder of their past, and often suggests little -improvements in the arrangement of their homes. It -is a means also of diffusing a love of beauty, a sense -of harmony, and an artistic taste, not to be despised -among those who feel that the ‘Beauty of Holiness’ constitutes -its attraction to the right living which leads to -Righteousness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>90</span></p> - -<p>In various ways, too many to describe, but which -every hostess can devise, the hours between half-past -four and eight can be pleasantly filled, until the drawing -in of the long summer evening brings the party to a -close. The announcement of supper is generally greeted -with, ‘What, go home already?’ or, ‘The time don’t go -so fast working days,’ but garden parties must necessarily -end with daylight, and for folk up at six in the -morning ten or eleven o’clock is a late enough bed hour. -Supper is generally a small meal—cake, buns, or pastry, -with lemonade, fruit, or cold coffee—simply a light refreshment -taken standing; but some of the friends who -entertain us like better to give the light meal on the -arrival of the guests, and the more substantial one later. -The first plan, though, is perhaps better, as the people -leave their homes early, and many of them miss their -dinner altogether, amid the necessary preparation for the -long absence.</p> - -<p>‘Good-night, sir, and God bless you for this day!’ -was the farewell of one of his guests to his silver-haired -host, words which struck him deeply. ‘Dear me, dear -me! why did I never think of it before?’ he exclaimed; -and really this means of doing good seems so simple -and self-evident that it is to be wondered at that those -working among the poor should often not know where to -take their people for a day’s outing. London suburbs -abound with families hardly one of whom does not -give a garden party in the course of the summer, and -yet how few of these parties are to guests ‘who cannot -bid again!’ The expense of such a party is certainly -not the reason of its rarity. An entertainment -such as I have told about, even when meat is given, does<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>91</span> -not cost more than a shilling or eighteenpence a head. -The trouble cannot be the deterrent motive, for that is -nothing to be compared to the trouble of a dinner-party, -nor even of any ordinary ‘at home.’ ‘The servants -would not like it’ is sometimes urged as a reason, but -it is certainly not the experience of those who, having -overcome the objections of their servants, have tried it, -and found that they entered thoroughly into the spirit -of a party at which they had the pleasant duty of -entertaining joined to their usual one of serving, and -on more than one occasion the hearty welcome given -by the servants has added much to the success of our -day.</p> - -<p>Perhaps, amid the many difficulties to which modern -civilisation has brought us, one of the saddest is the -mutual ignorance of the lives and minds of members of -the same household—an ignorance often leading to -division. It may not, I think, be the least important -good of these parties that they afford a subject regarding -which master and servants can be, anyhow for one day, -of one mind and purpose.</p> - -<p>Neither does it require the possession of a mansion or -park before such an invitation can be sent; in fact, some -of the pleasantest parties have been given in the smallest -gardens, where kindliness and genial welcome have made -up for want of space. One lady, indeed, who was staying -for the summer in lodgings in the country gave -happy afternoons and pleasant memories to more than -eighty people. She asked them in little groups of twelve -or fourteen, took them long country rambles, or obtained -permission to saunter in a neighbour’s garden, and when -the evenings drew in (it was in August) brought them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>92</span> -back to her rooms, where a good tea-supper and a few -songs brought the entertainment to a close.</p> - -<p>The guests need not always be grown people. It -is, perhaps, even more important to give the growing -girl or the boy just entering into manhood a taste for -simple pleasures. Very delightful is the interest and -enjoyment of these young things in the country life and -wonders. The evening sewing-class, consisting of big girls -at work every day in factories; the Bible class of young -men; the discussion club; the children-servants (so -numerous and so joyless in our great cities)—such little -groups can be found around every place of worship, or are -known to every one living among or busying himself for -the good of the poor. All are open to invitations, and these -can be entertained even more easily than their elders. -‘Don’t you remember this or that?’ my young friends -often ask about some trivial incident long since vanished -from my memory, and when, demurring, I ask ‘When?’ -the unfailing answer, varying in form but monotonous -in substance, is ‘Why, that day when you took us into -the country. You <em>can’t</em> forget. It was grand.’</p> - -<p>Strangely ignorant are some of these town-bred folk -of things which seem to us always to have been known -and never to have been taught. They call every flower -a rose, and express wonder at the commonest object. -‘Law! here’s straw a-growing!’ I once heard in a corn-field, -and emerging into a fir-wood soon after, we all -joined in a laugh at the remark, ‘Why, here’s hundreds -of Christmas trees all together.’ Anything, provided it -is joined to active movement, without which young things -never seem quite happy, serves to amuse and to pass the -time. A competition to see which girls shall gather the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>93</span> -best nosegays, the proposal to the boys to search for -some animal, queer plant, or odd stone, have helped to -carry the guests over many miles and through long afternoons. -Perhaps one of the nicest things which any -young lady can do, even if she is not able or allowed to -attempt the larger undertaking of a party, is to take -some ten or twelve school boys and girls for a walk on -their Saturday afternoon holiday. She need keep them, -perhaps, only three or four hours, when milk or lemonade -and buns, got at any milk-shop, will serve as a substitute -for the usual tea.</p> - -<p>But, besides these country parties which town-dwellers -are quite unable to give, there is still left to us Londoners -the possibility (not to say duty) of inviting the poor to -our own houses. Our poor neighbours have not been -asked to many such parties, but the few to which they -have been bidden have been very pleasant. At one our -hostess, but lately returned from the East, had arranged -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><i>tableaux-vivants</i></span> introducing Oriental costumes in her -drawing-room, and the guests were delighted at seeing -the people of the one foreign nation of which they knew -anything—the Bible having been the literature which -made them conversant with that—as large as life, and -all ‘real men and solid women.’ Another time a little -charade was got up, and proud was the mother whose -baby was pressed into early service as a play-actor. -Other friends have entertained us after a visit to the -Kensington Museum or Zoological Gardens, while some -evenings have been passed in much the same way as by -other people who meet for social pleasure; with talk, -music, strange foreign things, portfolios, and puzzles, -though games may, perhaps, have occupied a somewhat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>94</span> -longer time than is usual among guests with more conversational -interests. To all of us have these parties -given much pleasure—pleasure which is, in truth, healthful -and refreshing amid the sorrow and pain so liberally -mingled in the life’s cup of the poor. ‘This evening I’ve -forgot all the winter’s troubles,’ followed the ‘Good-night’ -from the lips of a pain-broken woman; and considering -the ‘winter’s troubles’ included the death of a child and -the semi-starvation resulting from the almost constant -out-of-work condition of the husband, the party seemed -a strangely inadequate means of producing even temporarily -so large a result.</p> - -<p>The efforts made to attend are one of the signs of how -much these and the country parties are enjoyed. One -woman came, with her puling, pink ten-days-old baby, -and both men and women constantly get up from a sick-bed -to return to it again as soon as the pleasure is over. -‘We can’t afford to lose it, yer see; they don’t come too -often,’ is the sort of answer one usually receives in reply -to remonstrance.</p> - -<p>But this paper will accomplish its object if ‘they do -come oftener,’ and if not only the poor of our big London, -to whom we owe special duties, but if the poor of all -great cities are more thought of in the light of guests.</p> - -<p>The duty once recognised, the method becomes plain. -Every one, even those whose work does not take them -among the poor, can manage to be introduced to some who -are leading pleasure-barren lives, and to employers of -labour in factories or trades it is especially easy. The introduction -made, the rest follows naturally, and though -pleasure is in itself so great a good that I would hold the -thing worth doing if this alone were obtained, yet I think -a prophet’s eye is not needed to see the other possible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>95</span> -good resulting from such gatherings. The wider interests, -the seeds of culture, the introduction to simple recreations, -the suggestion of ideal beauty, the possession -of happy memories, the class relationships, are the advantages -one can rapidly count off as accruing to the -entertained, and as important are the gains of the entertainers. -The rich, coming face to face with the poor, -have seen patience which puts their restlessness to shame; -endurance about which poems have yet to be written; -hope which is deep and springing from the roots of their -being; charity which never faileth, including, as it often -does, the adoption of the orphan child or the sharing of -the room with a lone woman, compared to which the -biggest subscription is as nothing; kindliness which, -though unthinking, spareth not itself. Each class has its -virtues, but, as yet, they are unknown to each other. It -is for the rich to take the first step towards knowing and -being known; it is for them to say if the class hatreds, -which like other ‘warfare comes from misunderstanding,’ -shall exist in our midst. It is for them to make the way -of friendship through the wall of gold now dividing the rich -from the poor. It is for them to give fellowship which, -crushing envy, takes the sting out of poverty. And all this -can be done, by spending some thought, a little money, -and some afternoons in being ‘At Home’ to the poor.</p> - -<p>Great ends these to follow the small trouble and expense -of a garden party. It will not, though, be the first -time in history that good has been done by means which -seemed contemptible, and it will not seem strange to those -who have learnt that it is a Life and not a law, friendships -and not organisations, which have taught the world -its greatest lessons.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Henrietta O. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - - -<!--Chapter 6--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>96</span> - <h2 title="VI. UNIVERSITY SETTLEMENTS." id="ch06"><abbr title="6">VI.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>UNIVERSITY SETTLEMENTS.</i><a id="r61" href="#f61" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f61"> - <p><a href="#r61" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> - Reprinted, by permission, from the <cite>Nineteenth Century</cite> of February 1884.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">Once</span> more, as happens in crises of history, rich and -poor have met. ‘Scientific charity,’ or the system which -aims at creating respectability by methods of relief, has -come to the judgment, and has been found wanting. -Societies which helped the poor by gifts made paupers, -churches which would have saved them by preaching -made hypocrites, and the outcome of scientific charity is -the working man too thrifty to pet his children and too -respectable to be happy.</p> - -<p>Those who have tried hardest at planning relief and -at bringing to a focus the forces of charity, those who -have sacrificed themselves to stop the demoralising out-relief -and restore to the people the spirit of self-reliance, -will be the first to confess dissatisfaction if they are told -that the earthly paradise of the majority of the people -must be to belong to a club, to pay for a doctor through a -provident dispensary, and to keep themselves unspotted -from charity or pauperism. There is not enough in such -hope to call out efforts of sacrifice, and a steady look into -such an earthly paradise discloses that the life of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>97</span> -thrifty is a sad life, limited both by the pressure of continuous -toil and by the fear lest this pressure should -cease and starvation ensue.</p> - -<p>The poor need more than food: they need also the -knowledge, the character, the happiness which are the gift -of God to this age. The age has received His best gifts, -but hitherto they have fallen mostly to the rich.</p> - -<p>It is a moment of Peace. To-day there are no battles, -but the returns of the dead and wounded from accidents -with machinery and from diseases resulting from injurious -trades show that there are countless homes in -which there must still be daily uncertainty as to the -father’s return, and many children and wives who become -orphans and widows for their country’s good.</p> - -<p>It is an age of Knowledge. But if returns were made -either of the increased health due to the skill of doctors -and sanitarians, or of the increased pleasures due to the -greater knowledge of the thoughts and acts of other men -in other times and countries, it would be shown that -neither length of days nor pleasure falls to the lot of the -poor. Few are the poor families where the mother will -not say, ‘I have buried many of mine.’ Few are the -homes where the talk has any subject beyond the day’s -doings and the morrow’s fears.</p> - -<p>It is an age of Travel, but the mass of the poor know -little beyond the radius of their own homes. It is no -unusual thing to find people within ten miles of a famous -sight which they have never seen, and it is the usual -thing to find complete ignorance of other modes of life, a -thorough contempt for the foreigner and all his ways. -The improved means of communication which is the -boast of the age, and which has done so much to widen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>98</span> -thought, tends to the enjoyment of the rich more than of -the poor.</p> - -<p>It is an age of the Higher Life. Higher conceptions -of virtue, a higher ideal of what is possible for man, are -the best gift to our day, but it is received only by those -who have time and power to study. ‘They who want the -necessaries of life want also a virtuous and an equal -mind,’ says the Chinese sage; and so the poor, being -without those things necessary to the growth of mind -and feeling, jeopardise Salvation—the possession, that -is, of a life at one with the Good and the True, at one -with God.</p> - -<p>Those who care for the poor see that the best things -are missed, and they are not content with the hope -offered by ‘scientific charity.’ They see that the best -things might be shared by all, and they cannot stand aside -and do nothing. ‘The cruellest man living,’ it has been -said, ‘could not sit at his feast unless he sat blindfold,’ -and those who see must do something. They may be -weary of revolutionary schemes, which turn the world -upside down to produce after anarchy another unequal -division; they may be weary, too, of philanthropic schemes -which touch but the edge of the question. They may -hear of dynamite, and they may watch the failure of an -Education Act, as the prophets watched the failure of -teachers without knowledge. They may criticise all that -philanthropists and Governments do, but still they themselves -would do something. No theory of progress, no -proof that many individuals among the poor have become -rich, will make them satisfied with the doctrine of -<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><i>laissez faire</i></span>; they simply face the fact that in the richest -country of the world the great mass of their countrymen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>99</span> -live without the knowledge, the character, and the fulness -of life which are the best gift to this age, and that some -thousands either beg for their daily bread or live in anxious -misery about a wretched existence. What can they do -which revolutions, which missions, and which money -have not done?</p> - -<p>It is in answer to such a question that I make the -suggestion of this paper. I make it especially as a development -of the idea which underlies a College Mission. -These Missions are generally inaugurated by a visit to -a college from some well-known clergyman working in the -East End of London or in some such working-class -quarter. He speaks to the undergraduates of the condition -of the poor, and he rouses their sympathy. A committee -is appointed, subscriptions are promised, and -after some negotiations a young clergyman, a former -member of the college, is appointed as a Mission curate -of a district. He at once sets in motion the usual parochial -machinery of district visiting, mothers’ meetings, -clubs, &c. He invites the assistance of those of his old -mates who will help; at regular intervals he makes a -report of his progress, and if all goes well he is at last -able to tell how the district has become a parish.</p> - -<p>The Mission, good as its influence may be, is not, it -seems to me, an adequate expression of the idea which -moved the promoters. The hope in the College when the -first sympathy was roused was that all should join in -good work, and the Mission is necessarily a Churchman’s -effort. The desire was that as University men -they should themselves bear the burdens of the poor—and -the Mission requires of them little more than an -annual guinea subscription. The grand idea which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>100</span> -moved the College, the idea which, like a new creative -spirit, is brooding over the face of Society, and is -making men conscious of their brotherhood, finds no -adequate expression in the district church machinery -with which, in East London, I am familiar. There is -little in that machinery which helps the people to conceive -of religion apart from sectarianism, or of a Church -which is ‘the nation bent on righteousness.’ There is -little, too, in the ordinary parochial mechanism which -will carry to the homes of the poor a share of the best -gifts now enjoyed in the University.</p> - -<p>Imagine a man’s visit to the Mission District of his -college. He has thought of the needs of the poor, and -of the way in which those needs are being met. He has -formed in his mind a picture of a district where loving -supervision has made impossible the wretchedness of -‘horrible London’; he expects to find well-ordered -houses, people interested in the thoughts of the day, -gathering round their pastor to learn of men and of God. -He finds instead an Ireland in England, people paying -3<i>s.</i> or 4<i>s.</i> a week for rooms smaller than Irish cabins, -without the pure air of the Irish hill-side, and with vice -which makes squalor hopeless. He finds a population -dwarfed in stature, smugly content with their own existence, -ignorant of their high vocation to be partners of -the highest, where even the children are not joyful. He -measures the force which the Mission curate is bringing -to bear against all this evil. He finds a church which is -used only for a few hours in the week, and which is kept -up at a cost of 150<i>l.</i> a year. He finds the clergyman -absorbed in holding together his congregation by means -of meetings and treats, and almost broken down by the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>101</span> -strain put upon him to keep his parochial organisation -going. The clergyman is alone, his church work -absorbs his power and attracts little outside help. What -can he do to improve the dwellings and widen the -lives of 4,000 persons? What can he do to spread -knowledge and culture? What can he do to teach the -religion which is more than church-going? What -wonder if, when he is asked what help he needs, he -answers, ‘Money for my church,’ ‘Teachers for my -Sunday school,’ ‘Managers for my clothing club’? What -wonder, too, if the visitor, seeing such things and hearing -such demands, goes away somewhat discontented, -somewhat inclined to give up faith in the Mission, and, -what is worse, ready to believe that there is no way by -which the best can be given to the poor?</p> - -<p>It is to members of the Universities anxious to unite -in a common purpose of improving the lives of the people -that I make the suggestion that University Settlements -will better express their idea. College Missions have -done some of the work on which they have been sent, -but in their very nature their field is limited. It is in no -opposition to these Missions, but rather with a view to -more fully cover their idea, that I propose the new scheme. -The details of the plan may be shortly stated.</p> - -<p>The place of settlement must of course first be fixed. -It will be in some such poor quarter as that of East -London, where a house can be taken in which there shall -be both habitable chambers and large reception-rooms. -A man must be chosen to be the chief of the Settlement; -he must receive a salary which, like that of the Mission -curate, will be guaranteed by the College, and he must -make his home in the house. He must have taken a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>102</span> -good degree, be qualified to teach, and be endowed with -the enthusiasm of humanity. Such men are not hard -to find; under a wiser Church government they would -be clergymen, and serve the people as the nation’s ministers; -but, under a Church government which in an -age of reform has remained unreformed, they are kept -outside, and often fret in other service. One of these, -qualified by training to teach, qualified by character to -organise and command, qualified by disposition to make -friends with all sorts of men, would gladly accept a -position in which he could both earn a livelihood and -fulfil his calling. He would be the centre of the University -Settlement. Men fresh from college or old University -men would come to occupy the chambers as residents. -Lecturers in connection with the University Extension -Society would be his fellow-lecturers in the reception-rooms, -and as the head of such a Settlement he would -extend a welcome to all classes in his new neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>The old Universities exercise a strange charm: the -Oxford or Cambridge man is still held to possess some -peculiar knowledge, and the fact that three of the -most democratic boroughs are represented by University -professors has its explanation. ‘He speaks beautiful -German, but of course those University gentlemen ought -to,’ was a man’s reflection to me after a talk with a -Cambridge professor. Those, too, who may be supposed -to know what draws in an advertising poster, are always -glad to print after the name of a speaker his degree and -college.</p> - -<p>Thus it would be that the head of the Settlement -would find himself as closely related to his new surroundings -as to his old. The same reputation, which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>103</span> -would draw to him fellow-scholars or old pupils, would -put him in a position to discover the work and thought -going on around him. He would become familiar with -the teachers in the elementary and middle-class schools, -he would measure the work done by clergy and missionaries, -he would be in touch with the details of local -politics; and, what is most important of all, he would -come into sympathy with the hope, the unnamed hope, -which is moving in the masses.</p> - -<p>The Settlement would be common ground for all -classes. In the lecture-room the knowledge gathered at -the highest sources would, night after night, be freely -given. In the conversation rooms the students would -exchange ideas and form friendships. At the weekly -receptions of ‘all sorts and conditions of men’ the residents -would mingle freely in the crowd.</p> - -<p>The internal arrangements would be simple enough. -The Head would undertake the domestic details and fix -the price which residents would pay for board and lodging. -He would admit new members and judge if the intentions -of those who offered were honest. Some would come -for their vacations; others occupied during the daytime -would come to make the place their home. University -men, barristers, Government clerks, curates, medical students, -or business men each would have opportunity both -for solitary and for associated life, and the expense would -be various to suit their various means. The one uniting -bond would be the common purpose, ‘not without action -to die fruitless,’ but to do something to improve the -condition of the people. It would be the duty of the -Head to keep alive among his fellows the freshness of -their purpose, ‘to recall the stragglers, refresh the outworn,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>104</span> -praise and reinspire the brave.’ He would have, -therefore, to judge of the powers of each to fill the places -to which he could introduce them. To some he would -recommend official positions, to some teaching, to some -the organisation of relief, to some the visiting of the -sick, and thus new life would be infused into existing -churches, chapels, and institutions. Others he would -introduce as members of Co-operative Societies, Friendly -Societies, or Political and Social Clubs. He would so -arrange that all should occupy positions in which they -would become friends of his neighbours, and discover, -perhaps as none have yet discovered, how to meet their -needs.</p> - -<p>In such an institution it is easy to see that development -might be immeasurable. A born leader of men -surrounded by a group of intelligent and earnest friends, -pledged not ‘to go round in an eddy of purposeless dust,’ -and placed face to face with the misery and apathy they -know to be wrong, would of necessity discover means -beyond our present vision. They would bind themselves -by sympathy and service to the lives of the people; they -would bring the light and strength of intelligence to -bear on their government, and they would give a voice -both to their needs and their wrongs. It is easy to -imagine what such settlers in a great town might do, -but it will be more to the point to consider how they -may express the idea which underlies the College Mission—the -interest, that is, of centres of education in the -centres of industry, and the will of University men to -acknowledge their brotherhood with the people.</p> - -<p>If it be that the Missionary’s account of his Mission -district fails at last to rouse the interest of his hearers,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>105</span> -and if his work seems to be absorbed in the effort to -keep going his parochial machinery amid a host of like -machines, the same cannot be the fate of the Settlement.</p> - -<p>Some of the settlers will settle themselves for longer -periods, and those who are occupied during the daytime -will find it as possible to live among the poor as among -the rich; but there must also be room for those who -can spend only a few weeks or months in the Settlement, -so that men may come, as some already have -come, to East London to spend part of a vacation in serving -the people. This interchange of life between the -University and the Settlement will keep up between the -two a living tie. Each term will bring, not a set speech -about the work of the Mission, but the many chats on -the wonders of human life. The condition of the English -people will come to be a fact more familiar than that -of the Grecian or Roman, and the history of the College -Settlement will be better known than that of the boat or -the eleven. On the other side, thoughts and feelings which -are now often spent in vain talks at debating societies -will go up to town to refresh those who are spent by -labour, or to find an outlet in action.</p> - -<p>There is no fear that the College Settlement will fail -to rouse interest. Its life will be the life of the College. -As long as both draw their strength from the common -source, from the same body of members, the sympathy -of the College will be with the people. Nor is there any -fear lest the work of the settlers become stereotyped, as -is often the case with the work of Missions and Societies. -Each year, each term, would alter the constitution of -the Settlement as other settlers brought in other characters<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>106</span> -and the results of other knowledge, or as their -ideas became modified by common work with the various -religious and secular organisations of the neighbourhood. -The danger, indeed, would not be from uniformity of -method or narrowness of aim; rather would it be the -endeavour of the Head to limit the diversity which many -minds would introduce, and restrain a liberality willing -to see good in every form of earnestness. The variety -of work which would embrace the most varied effort, and -enlist its members in every movement for the common -good, would keep about the Settlement the beauty of a -perpetual promise.</p> - -<p>If we go further, and ask how this plan reaches -deeper than others which have gone before, the question -is not so easily answered, because it is impossible to -prophesy that a University Settlement will make the -poor rich or give them the necessaries of true life. Inasmuch, -though, as poverty—poverty in its true sense, -including poverty of the knowledge of God and man—is -largely due to the division of classes, a University -Settlement does provide a remedy which goes deeper -than that provided by popular philanthropy.</p> - -<p>The poor man of modern days has to live in a -quarter of the town where he cannot even try to live -with those superior to himself. Around him are thousands -educated as he has been educated, with taste and -with knowledge on a level with his own. The demand -for low things has created a supply of low satisfactions. -Thus it is that the amusements are unrecreative, the -lectures uninstructive, and the religion uninspiring. It -is not possible for the inhabitant of the poor quarter to -come into casual intercourse with the higher manners of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>107</span> -life and thought except at a cost which would constitute -a large percentage of his income.</p> - -<p>I am afraid that it is long before we can expect the -rich and poor again to live as neighbours: for good or -evil they have been divided, and other means must, for -the present, be found for making common the property -of knowledge. One such means is the University -Settlement. Men who have knowledge may become -friends of the poor and share that knowledge and -its fruits as, day by day, they meet in their common -rooms for talk or for instruction, for music or for -play.</p> - -<p>The settlers will be able to join in that which is -done by other societies, while they share all their best -with the poor, and in the highest sense make their -property common. They may be some of the best -charity agents, for they will have an experience out of -the reach of others, which they will have accumulated -through their different agencies. As members of various -secular and religious organisations, they may be able to -compare notes after the day’s work, and offer evidence -as to how the poor live which, in days to come, might be -invaluable. They may be some of the best educators, for, -bringing ever-fresh stores of thought, they will see the -weak spots in a routine which daily tires a child because it -does so little to teach him, and they will have an opinion -on national education better worth considering than the -grumbles of those wearied with most things, or the congratulations -of officials who judge by examinations. They -may be the best Church reformers, for they will make -more and more manifest how it is not institutions but -righteousness which exalts a nation; how, one after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>108</span> -another, all reforms fail because men tell lies and love -themselves; and how, therefore, the first of all reforms is -the reform of the Church, whose mission for the nation is -that it create righteousness.</p> - -<p>There is, then, for the settler of a University Settlement -an ideal worthy of his sacrifice. He looks not to -a Church buttressed by party spirit, nor to a community -founded on self-helped respectability. He looks rather -to a community where the best is most common, where -there is no more hunger and misery, because there is no -more ignorance and sin—a community in which the poor -have all that gives value to wealth, in which beauty, -knowledge, and righteousness are nationalised.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Samuel A. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="sp2">[This paper was read at a meeting at St. John’s College, Oxford, in -November 1883, and resulted in the foundation of Toynbee Hall, Whitechapel, -and other University Settlements in poor districts of large -towns.]</p> -</div> - - - -<!--Chapter 7--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>109</span> - <h2 title="VII. PICTURES FOR THE PEOPLE." id="ch07"><abbr title="7">VII.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>PICTURES FOR THE PEOPLE.</i><a id="r71" href="#f71" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f71"> - <p><a href="#r71" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> - Reprinted, by permission, from the <cite>Cornhill Magazine</cite>, March 1883.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">‘It</span> is folly, if nothing worse, to attempt it. What do -the people want with fine art? They will neither understand -nor appreciate it. Show them an oleograph of -“Little Red Riding Hood,” or a coloured illustration of -“Daniel in the Lions’ Den,” and they will like it just as -much as Mr. Millais’s “Chill October” or Mr. Watts’s -“Love and Death.”’</p> - -<p>Such opinions met us at every turn when we first -began to think of having an Art Exhibition in Whitechapel. -But we knew that it is not only indifference -which keeps the people living in the far East away -from the West End Art Treasures. The expense of transit; -the ignorance of ways of getting about; the shortness -of daylight beyond working hours during the greater -part of the year; the impression that the day when they -could go is sure to be the day when the Museum is ‘closed -to the public’—all these little discouragements become -difficulties, especially to the large number who have not -yet had enough opportunities of knowing the joy which -Art gives.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>110</span></p> - -<p>‘Well, I should not have believed I could have enjoyed -myself so much, and yet been so quiet,’ describes a -lesson learnt from an hour spent in Mr. Watts’s Gallery -at Little Holland House; and once, after showing a -party of mechanics a large photograph of the Dresden -Madonna, I was asked, ‘Where now can we see such things -often?’ while further talk on the picture elicited from -another of the same group, ‘But that’s more the philosophy -of pictures; one wants to see a great many to learn -how to see them so.’</p> - -<p>Such remarks, by no means isolated, and the proposal -that we should ‘get up a Loan Exhibition’ from one -of our active working-men friends, turned inclination -into determination.</p> - -<p>The resources at command were hardly enough to -promise success in the undertaking. They were but -three schoolrooms, thirty feet by sixty, behind the -church, not on a central thoroughfare, and approached -by a passage yard; the light was much obscured by -surrounding buildings; the doorways were narrow and -the staircase crooked. But friends came forward to -help, and there was soon formed a large committee, -which, after meeting two or three times to discuss -general principles and plans, divided itself into sub-committees -to carry out special branches of a work which, -though to a large extent one of detail, was by no means -slight.</p> - -<p>The hanging committee undertook to measure space, -obtain the sizes of pictures, and see to the strength of -rods and thickness of walls, but to the general committee -was left the duty of refusing undesirable-sized or -inappropriate pictures. This last was by no means the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>111</span> -least difficult labour, so extraordinary were some of the -loans offered to us; a dreadful portrait of an uncomely -old lady was sent because ‘she was the maternal grandmother -of a man who used to keep a shop in the High -Street,’ this recommendation being considered sufficient -to obtain for the picture a place in an Art Collection; a -pencil drawing ‘done by John when he was only fifteen, -and now he’s doing well in the pawnbroking line,’ was -held worthy by a proud mother.</p> - -<p>But if, on the one side, we were somewhat overwhelmed -with offers of loans of doubtful description, on -the other we were not unfrequently surprised at the unwillingness -of art owners to lend their treasures. Vain -were promises of safety and insurance. ‘I don’t fear -for the pictures, but I don’t like to have my walls bare,’ -was the too common answer; and the argument, ‘Not -for a fortnight, to enable thousands of people to see -them?’ rarely penetrated the coat of selfishness which -incases such owners.</p> - -<p>By no means had the hanging committee a monopoly -of work. The decorative committee made it its -duty to provide hangings, flags, bunting; to hide the -usual schoolroom suggestions, and to make the place -attractive to the passing crowd. The advertising committee -undertook the difficult and expensive work of -making the undertaking known, always difficult, but especially -so when many of the people among whom the information -has to be spread can neither read nor write. -The finance committee did the dull but necessary work -connected with money.</p> - -<p>At the first Exhibition 3<i>d.</i> was charged for admission -during seven days, and free admittance granted for two<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>112</span> -days. On the threepenny days 4,000 people paid or -were paid for; on the free days, including Sunday, 5,000 -came to see the show. The box for donations contained -on the seven paying days 4<i>l.</i> 16<i>s.</i> 1<i>d.</i>; on the two free -days 6<i>l.</i> 2<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i> The second Exhibition was opened free. -In the thirteen days 26,492 people came to see it. The -boxes contained 21<i>l.</i> 8<i>s.</i> 9<i>d.</i>, and 4,600 catalogues were -sold at 1<i>d.</i>,<a id="r72" href="#f72" title="Go to Footnote 2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> realising 20<i>l.</i> 17<i>s.</i> 1<i>d.</i>, the cost of printing of -which was 17<i>l.</i> 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<div class="footnote" id="f72"> - -<p><a href="#r72" class="label" title="Return to text">2</a> First edition was sold at 3<i>d.</i>; and some on the first day at 6<i>d.</i>, -while a few were given away.</p> - -</div> - -<p>Not the least weighted with responsibility was the -watch committee, whose work was the safeguarding -of the loans, both by night and day. Policemen, firemen, -and caretakers had to be engaged, not to mention -the organisation required to arrange for the eighteen -or twenty gentlemen who came down daily to ‘take a -watch’ of four hours in the rooms; where their presence -not only served to prevent unseemly conduct, but their -descriptions of pictures and homely chats with the people -made often all the difference between an intelligent visit -and a listless ten minutes’ stare. The work of borrowing -was everybody’s work; and, on the whole, the response -met with has been generous, particularly from the artists -and those owners whose possessions were few.</p> - -<p>The first Exhibition included—besides pictures—pottery, -needlework, and curiosities; but, interesting as -these were, the expense of getting them together, providing -cases for them, and showing them thoroughly under -glass, was so great that in the second Exhibition it was -determined to exhibit only pictures and such works of -art and curiosities as the Kensington Museum would lend -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>113</span>us, the latter already in cases, and with their own special -caretaker to boot.</p> - -<p>The cataloguing and describing committee comes -last; and its work, though done in a hurry, bore no slight -relation to the success of the undertaking.</p> - -<p>It is impossible for the ignorant to even look at a -picture with any interest unless they are acquainted with -the subject; but when once the story is told to them -their plain, direct method of looking at things enables -them to go straight to the point, and perhaps to reach -the artist’s meaning more clearly than some of those art -critics whose vision is obscured by thoughts of ‘tone, -harmony, and construction.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Richmond’s fine picture of ‘Ariadne’ elicited -many remarks. ‘Why, it is crazy Jane!’ exclaimed one -woman, following up the declaration in a few moments -by, ‘and it’s finely done, too;’ but the story once explained, -either by catalogue or talk, the interest increased. -‘Poor soul! she’s seen her day,’ came from a -genuine sympathiser. ‘Oh, no! she’ll get another lover; -rest sure of that.’ ‘’Tain’t quite likely, seeing that it’s -a desert island!’ was the practical retort, which rather -dumbfounded the hopeful commentator; but she would -have the last word: ‘Well, I would, if it were myself, -and she’ll find a way, sure enough, somehow.’ ‘The -light is all behind her,’ showed a delicate perception of -what, perhaps, the artist himself had put in with the -truth of unconsciousness.</p> - -<p>Mr. Briton Rivière’s representation of the ‘Dying -Gladiator’ was the subject of much conversation. It is, -perhaps, hardly necessary to remind any one of the picture, -which was in the Academy but a year or two ago.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>114</span> -The splendid painting of the tigers, both dead and living, -with the vividly depicted physical agony of the martyr, -in spite of which he feels triumph, as, faithful even in -death, he makes the sign of the cross in the sand, would -probably make an impression on and be remembered by -those who saw it.</p> - -<p>‘There, my boy, there’s your ancestor in the lions’ -den!’ was the paternal explanation of one of Abraham’s -descendants to his small son; but a reference to the -catalogue changed his opinion on the subject, if not on the -goodness of the cause for which the gladiator suffered. -The description in the catalogue for this picture was: -‘The Romans, for their holiday amusement, made their -prisoners fight with wild beasts. The young Christian -has killed one of the tigers; but is himself mortally -wounded. His last act is to trace in the sand the form -of a cross, the sign of the faith for which he dies. The -shouts of the excited crowd, the roar of the baulked tiger, -are fading in his ears. God has kissed him, and he -will sleep.’ Somewhat fanciful, perhaps, but reaching, -maybe, the spirit of the picture more truly than a plainer -statement of facts would have done. ‘“God kissed -him,” it says; I should have said the tiger clawed -him,’ was the one adverse criticism overheard on the -description. As a rule, the subject of the picture once -understood, the people stood before it in thoughtful consideration.</p> - -<p>Mr. Richmond’s ‘Sleep and Death,’ as well as Mr. -Watts’s ‘Time, Death, and Judgment,’ both ideal rather -than historical or domestic pictures, were greatly enjoyed, -and this by a class of people whose external lives are -drearily barren of ideals.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>115</span></p> - -<p>An interpretation offered by any one who had studied -the parable pictures was eagerly accepted, and further -thoughts suggested. ‘You can’t see Judgment’s face for -his arm,’ perhaps had, perhaps had not, more meaning -in it than the speaker meant; while in reference to the -woman’s listless dropping of her flowers from her lap -in ‘Time, Death, and Judgment,’ the remark, ‘Death -does not want the flowers now she’s got ’em,’ told of -thoughtful suffering at the apparent wastefulness of -death. ‘Time is young yet, then,’ made one feel that -the speaker had caught a glimpse of life’s possibilities -with which probably any number of homilies had failed -to impress him.</p> - -<p>‘Sleep and Death,’ depicting the strong, pale warrior -borne on the shoulders of Sleep, while being gently lifted -into the arms of Death—so simple in colour, pure in -idea, rich in suggestion—was good for the poor to see, -among whom Death is robbed of none of its terrors by -the coarse familiarity with which it is treated. With -them funerals are too often a time of great rowdiness, -and ‘a beautiful corpse’ a fit spectacle for all the neighbours—even -the youngest child—to be invited to see. -Death treated as a tender mother-woman, hidden in the -cold grey vastness surrounding her, was a bright idea, -producing, perhaps, greater modesty about the great -mystery. ‘That’s the best of the whole lot, to my mind,’ -came, after a long gaze, from a pale, trouble-stricken -man, whose sorrows Sleep had not always helped to -bear, whose loveless life had made Death’s enfolding -arms seem wondrous kind.</p> - -<p>Sometimes there were discussions as to which was -Sleep and which Death, ended once summarily by the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>116</span> -loudly expressed opinion, ‘It don’t much matter which. -I don’t call it proper, <em>anyhow</em>, to see a man pickaback of -an angel!’—a hypercritical sense of propriety which -was hardly to be expected from the appearance of the -critic.</p> - -<p>Munkacsy’s picture of the ‘Lint Pickers,’ lent by Mr. -J. S. Forbes, aroused much interest. In the catalogue, -after a short account of the artist’s life and works, it was -described thus: ‘A soldier, with a bandaged leg, is telling -the story of the war to the women and children who -are picking lint to dress wounds. The different feelings -with which the news is received are shown with wonderful -skill in the different faces. Some are waiting to hear -the worst; another has already heard it, and can only -bury her face in her hands. To others it is but an interesting -story; while the little child is only intent on his -basket of lint.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Man’s inhumanity to man</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Makes countless thousands mourn.’</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The gloom of the picture, the utter dejection of the -workers, relieved nowhere by a gleam of light—even the -child (around whom Hope might have hovered) finding a -grim plaything in the lint—all combine to tell the tale of -what the artist evidently felt—the cruelty of war. Much -interest was taken in finding out, amid the darkness, the -different figures in their various attitudes of active or -crushed woe. It spoke, though, a little sadly for the want -of joyousness in East London entertainments that more -than one sightseer, <em>before</em> reading the catalogue or being -helped by a verbal explanation, thought ‘it was a lot of -poor people at tea.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>117</span></p> - -<p>The frames of all the pictures excited wonder, sometimes -admiration not accorded to the pictures themselves; -and the oft-reiterated questions, ‘What, now, is -it all worth? How much would it fetch?’ became a -little wearisome, not the less so because expressive of one -of the signs of the times.</p> - -<p>‘All beautiful! and most of them [the pictures] -done by machinery, I suppose,’ showed greater mechanical -than artistic appreciation; while the cross-examination -to which we were put as to why the Exhibition -was held was sometimes interesting rather than -edifying. ‘Oh, yes, it’ll pay, sure enough, if you only -go on long enough,’ was one woman’s comforting assurance; -and the answer, ‘I hardly see how, considering -that it is open free,’ carried so little force to her mind -that its only effect was to make her repeat her belief in a -still more confidently cheery tone. But many and hearty -were the thanks that were given at the end of some -such chats; and the gentlemen who explained the -pictures and talked to the little groups which quickly -gathered round ‘some one who would tell about it -all’ were more than once offered reward-money—a -flattering tribute to their powers, and illustrative of -the living sense of justice in the workman’s mind -and the conviction that ‘the labourer is worthy of his -hire.’</p> - -<p>The pathetic pictures were, perhaps, the most generally -appreciated. Israels’ ‘Day before the Departure,’ lent -by Mr. J. S. Forbes, was described thus: ‘The widow, -utterly sad, has shut her Bible and seems heartbroken -and hopeless. The child does not understand everything, -but she knows her mother is sorry; the toy is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>118</span> -forgotten, while she nestles close in her desire to comfort. -Her love may be the light which will brighten -the future,’ often reduced the beholders to sympathetic -silence; while warm was the praise given to Salentin’s -‘Foundling,’ a pretty picture of an old yeoman giving -the forsaken babe into the arms of his kindly daughters. -The bright evening sky, the tender spring-time, the -interest of the farm-boy, and the curiosity of the sheep, -all hopefully express that the little one’s short, troublous -day is over, and that its happier spring-time has -dawned.</p> - -<p>‘Our Father’s House,’ by Wilfrid Lawson: the little, -ragged girl peeping wistfully round the church pillar -at the fashionably dressed congregation, who too often -monopolise ‘Our Father’s House,’ had always around it -some quiet and earnest students. It aroused in them, -perhaps, the sleeping sense, now so often forgotten that -it is almost ignored, that the church is the people’s possession, -and, maybe, it awakened the hope, deep down (if -sometimes visionary) in every breast, of the coming of -the ‘good time’ when all class and unworthy distinctions -will be lost in the Father’s presence.</p> - -<p>Israels’ works, of which in the last Exhibition there -were five, were duly appreciated, not perhaps by the -mass, but by the more thoughtful of the spectators. -‘The Canal Boat, a picture full of sadness; the man and -woman look weary and worked. Nature is in tune with -their hard life; still there is progress,’ said the catalogue. -I overheard one man say, ‘Ah! poor chap, he’s -got into a wrong current, but he’ll get out all right. -Pull away.’ The picture, sketchy as it was, had taught -in Israels’ style the lesson he loves to give—the pain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>119</span> -and dreariness of life interlaced with the bright thread -of hope—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent12">Which is out of sight:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That thread of all-sustaining beauty,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Which runs through all and doth all unite.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Mr. Walter Crane’s picture of ‘Ormuzd and Ahriman,’ -which he kindly lent, awoke much interest. The people -read, or had read to them, the description which told -that the Persians believed in two gods—the god of good, -Ormuzd; the god of evil, Ahriman—and how the picture -expressed the fight between the two; a fight going -on in every nation and every heart, all nature being -represented as standing still during the conflict; while -the river of time wound gently on past the ruins of the -Memnons, the Acropolis, the Grove, the Altar, and the -Abbey—the symbols of the world’s great religions. ‘I -expect that’s true, but we don’t seem to see much of -the <em>fight</em> about here,’ was one cogent remark. Most frequently, -though, a picture will draw forth no expression—for -with the unlettered all expression is difficult, and -we know how, in the presence of death, of a grand sunset, -or of anything deeply moving, silence seems most -fitting.</p> - -<p>Sometimes, though, one overhears talks which reveal -much. Mr. Schmalz’s picture of ‘Forever’ had one evening -been beautifully explained, the room being crowded -by some of the humblest people, who received the explanation -with interest, but in silence. The picture -represented a dying girl to whom her lover has been -playing his lute, until, dropping it, he seemed to be -telling her with impassioned words that his love is -stronger than death, and that, in spite of the grave and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>120</span> -separation, he will love her <em>forever</em>. I was standing -outside the Exhibition in the half-darkness, when two -girls, hatless, with one shawl between them thrown round -both their shoulders, came out. They might not be -living the worst life; but, if not, they were low down -enough to be familiar with it and to see in that only the -relation between men and women. The idea of love -lasting beyond this life, making eternity real, a spiritual -bond between man and woman, had not occurred to them -until the picture with the simple story was shown them. -‘Real beautiful, ain’t it all?’ said one. ‘Ay, fine, but -that “Forever,” I did take on with that,’ was the -answer. Could anything be more touching? What -work is there nobler than that of the artist who, by his -art, shows the degraded the lesson that Christ Himself -lived to teach?</p> - -<p>The landscapes were, perhaps, the pictures least -cared for; and this is not to be wondered at, considering -how little the poorer denizens of our large towns can -know of the country, or of nature’s varied and peculiar -garbs, which artists delight to illustrate. ‘How far is it -to that place?’ was eagerly asked before a picture of -Venice, by R. M. Chevalier, a picture of which the -description told how the Grand Canal was the ‘Whitechapel -Road’ of Venice, and further explained the relationship -of gondolas to omnibuses and cabs—a relationship -not understood at once by the untravelled world. -‘Would it cost much money to go and see that?’ was -often provoked by such pictures as Elijah Walton’s -picture of ‘Crevasses in the Mer de Glace,’ kindly lent -by Mr. H. Evill, or Mr. Croft’s ‘Matterhorn,’ lent by -Mr. T. L. Devitt, and described: ‘A peak in the Alps<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>121</span> -too steep for snow, and until lately too steep for -mountaineers. Chains have now been placed at the -most difficult places, and several English ladies have -reached the top. The artist shows the loneliness of -greatness:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The solemn peaks but to the stars are known,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But to the stars, and to the cold lunar beams;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Alone the sun rises, and alone</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Spring the great streams.—<span class="sc">Matthew Arnold.</span>’</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>With the knowledge of the indifference, because of -the unhelped and inevitable ignorance of the town poor -in respect to landscape art, special pains were taken -with the descriptions, endeavours being made to connect -the landscape with some idea with which they were -already familiar, or to connect it with some moral association -which would attract notice to its qualities; for -instance, Mr. John Brett’s ‘Philory, King of the Cliffs,’ -was brought nearer to the spectators by the suggestion -that ‘the coast of England was, like its people, cool and -strong, and not to be hurt by a storm’; and Mr. W. -Luker’s picture of ‘Burnham Beeches,’ lent by Mr. S. -Winkworth, gained in interest because the catalogue said -it was ‘A forest near Slough, about eighteen miles from -London, bought by the City of London, and made the -property of the people.’</p> - -<p>Mr. W. S. Wyllie’s ‘Antwerp,’ a grey, flat picture, -had its idea partly embodied in ‘Sea and land seemed -to end in the cathedral spire’; while the familiar proverb, -‘It is an ill wind that blows nobody good,’ drew -attention to Mr. W. C. Nakkens’s ‘Harvesting in Holland’; -and the suggestion that ‘the horses are enjoying the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>122</span> -wind which is blowing up the rain, the farmer’s enemy -in harvest,’ showed the standpoint from which the picture -could be looked at.</p> - -<p>Not that the catalogue was intended to contain exhaustive -explanations of the pictures, but only indications -of the lines along which the people could make their -own discoveries. Full, however, as some of the descriptions -were, they were not full enough to prevent misconceptions. -A little copy of Tintoretto, lent by Mr. E. -Bale, depicting the visit and embrace of the Virgin Mary -and Elisabeth, simply entered in the catalogue as the -‘Meeting of Mary and Elisabeth,’ was mistaken for an -interview between Mary, Queen of Scots, and Queen -Elizabeth, and produced the reflection, ‘I suppose that -was before they quarrelled, then’—a sign that historical -had, in this instance, made more mark than Bible instruction.</p> - -<p>Information about Darwin, concerning whose work -the catalogue was silent, was finally volunteered by one -of a little group who pronounced him to be ‘the Monkey -Man’; and another knew no more about Gladstone -than that ‘he was the chap that followed Lord Beaconsfield.’</p> - -<p>‘Lesbia,’ by Mr. J. Bertrand, explained as ‘A Roman -girl musing over the loss of her pet bird,’ was commented -on by, ‘Sorrow for her bird, is it? I was thinking it -was drink that was in her’—a grim indication of the -opinion of the working classes of their ‘betters’; though -another remark on the same picture, ‘Well, I hope she -will never have a worse trouble,’ showed a kindlier -spirit and perhaps a sadder experience.</p> - -<p>But the catalogue once studied, it was clung to with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>123</span> -almost comical persistency. A picture by Jacob Maris, -lent by Mr. J. S. Forbes, of a ‘Street in Amsterdam,’ -was next in the catalogue, though not in the room, to -one of Mr. F. F. Dicksee’s of ‘Christ walking on the -Water.’ The Amsterdam picture was one in Maris’s -best style—a row of quaint, irregular houses, boats by -the wharf, still cold water from the midst of which a -post protruded, catching the light. ‘No doubt a fine -picture,’ commented a spectator, ‘but it requires a deal -of imagination.’ ‘Why? I don’t see that; it’s plain -enough: there are the ships, houses, wharf,’ explained -a friendly neighbour. ‘Yes, I see all them; but it’s the -rest of it that wants the imagination.’ Further pause, -and then, ‘Oh! I see; I’ve got the wrong number; I -thought it was “Christ walking on the Water”—that’s -what I was looking for.’</p> - -<p>The historical or domestic pictures, such as J. B. -Burgess’s ‘Presentation,’ the English ladies visiting the -house of a Moor who is presenting his children to them; -or Edwin Long’s ‘Question of Propriety,’ the priests -watching the dancing-girl to decide if the dance was -proper or not, perhaps attracted the most immediate -attention, just in proportion as they told their own tale; -but, aided by catalogue or talk, the pictures embodying -the highest spiritual truths became the most popular.</p> - -<p>The sentiment pervading J. F. Millet’s ‘Angelus’ -which makes prayer—the communion with the ‘Besetting -God’—at evening time, ‘Earth’s natural vesper -hour,’ seem right and fitting was an unspoken sermon -beyond their comprehension as art critics, but within -their reach as men and women capable of communion -with the highest. And, at present, when ordinary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>124</span> -religious influences appear to make so sadly little impression, -shall we not use such pictures also as stepping-stones -towards the truer life?</p> - -<p>Some amount of fine art is now lost to the world -because the construction of most modern houses puts -narrow limits to the size of pictures. ‘We are often -unable to express our best ideas for want of room,’ I -was told by a living artist whom this or any age would, -I think, call great; and another painter has had what -he considers his finest picture left on his hands because -it is too big for any drawing-room and most galleries.</p> - -<p>Is there not a double work here for the rich to do? -Might they not, by buying such pictures, encourage the -artists to paint their best thoughts, whatever size they -require, thus making the world richer by enabling it to -possess a little more of the knowledge gained by those -who ‘hang on to the sunskirts of the Most High’? -Might they not put them as gifts or loans on the walls -of churches or hospitals, making bare walls speak great -truths, not the less audible because of the murmur of -the people’s thanks, real, if unheard by the donors?</p> - -<p>Pictures will not do everything. They will not save -souls, for ‘it takes a life to save a life’; but shall such -works be kept only for the amusement or passing interest -of the rich? Shall not we, who care that the -people should have life and fuller life, press them into -the service of teaching? Words, mere words, fall flat -on the ears of those whose imaginations are withered -and dead; but art, in itself beautiful, in ideas rich, -they cannot choose but understand, if it be brought -within their reach.</p> - -<p>Art may do much to keep alive a nation’s fading<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>125</span> -higher life when other influences fail adequately to -nourish it; and how shall we neglect it in these hard -times of spiritual starvation? In Mrs. Browning’s -words</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>‘The artist keeps up open roads between the seen and the -unseen. Art is the witness of what <em>is</em> behind the show.’</p> -</div> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Henrietta O. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - - - - -<!--Chapter 8--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>126</span> - <h2 title="VIII. THE YOUNG WOMEN IN OUR WORKHOUSES." id="ch08"><abbr title="8">VIII.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>THE YOUNG WOMEN IN OUR WORKHOUSES.</i><a id="r81" href="#f81" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f81"> - <p><a href="#r81" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> - Reprinted, by permission, from <cite>Macmillan’s Magazine</cite>, August 1879.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">Those</span> of us who have ever entered a workhouse will not -easily forget some of the sad impressions then made upon -the mind. We remember the large, dreary wards—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The walls so blank,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That my shadow I thank</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For sometimes falling there—</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="noindent"> -<p>the cleanliness which is oppressive, the order which tells -of control in every detail. But, gloomy as these things -are, they are but the necessary surroundings of many of -the people who come to end their days amid them. On -their faces is written failure; having been proved useless -to the world, they are cast away out of sight, and -too often out of mind, on to this sad rubbish-heap -of humanity.</p> -</div> - -<p>A closer inspection of this rubbish-heap, however, -shows that it is not all worthless. Besides the many -whom dissolute, improvident, or vicious courses bring -to the workhouse, there are some who are more sinned -against than sinful; some who are merely unfortunate, -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>127</span>and who by a little wise help, wisely given, may become -useful members of society.</p> - -<p>It is of the young, single women that I would -specially speak. Those whom one finds in the workhouse -are usually there for one of three reasons. First, -in order to seek shelter when about to become mothers; -secondly, because they are driven thither by the evil results -of profligacy; thirdly, because having failed in life -they choose to enter there rather than to sin or to starve. -It is of the first and third classes that I now write, for -the second class is being dealt with, if not efficiently, -at least earnestly, by many societies founded for that -purpose.</p> - -<p>From June 1877 to June 1878 in the seven unions -of East London alone there have been no less than 253 -young girl-mothers who have entered the infirmaries.</p> - -<p>Some enter a few months before their confinement, -driven to that inhospitable shelter from the sense of the -value of their remaining character. And here a word is -required as to the neglect of any proper method of classification. -There should be in all our workhouses accommodation -which would allow of the separation of characters -among classes; and power and encouragement should be -given to the master and matron to carry this plan into -effectual working. The more respectable of the young -women might be placed under the supervision of one of -the staff, so that the time which necessarily elapses before -they can be again sent out should be to them a time of -instruction in what is good and desirable, instead of, as -it now too often is, a time when they are corrupted by -the evil influence of others worse than themselves.</p> - -<p>But these 253—what becomes of them? On their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>128</span> -recovery they cannot remain in the infirmary, and must -be sent to the able-bodied house, there to live on prison -fare and to associate with the criminal and wilfully idle. -Rather than do this many a young woman prefers to go -out, taking her three-weeks-old babe with her, resolved -to ‘get on’ as best she can. That ‘best’ is often the -‘worst.’ With her character gone, with two mouths to -feed instead of one, and with the loss of self-respect -rapidly following the loss of the respect of others, the -unfortunate mother too often falls into hopeless vice; -or, perhaps, the giant temptation presents itself of sacrificing -the little wailing life which stands between her -and respectability. Unhelped, unencouraged as they -are, who can wonder that such mothers, so sorely tried, -sometimes fall, and that the crime of infanticide is -horribly rife?</p> - -<p>But, frequent as such results are, the end is not always -thus tragic; the ruined girl often returns to her father’s -house and to the same conditions of life as before she -fell. But this course, though not so apparently bad, is -yet often very harmful. Her presence familiarises the -younger members with vice, an unadvisable familiarity; -for vice, while it gains much attractive power, gains also -more deterrent force by its mystery in the minds of the -young.</p> - -<p>Sometimes the unwedded mother, on leaving the -workhouse, honestly tries to get work at sack-making, -factory-work, anything which will enable her to keep her -little one near her; but it is a hard, an almost impossible -task. The care of the child impedes the work, and -thus it has to be put out to daily nurse. The ignorance, -if not the apathy, of its badly paid nurse and the unsuitability<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>129</span> -of its food too often combine to extinguish the -little flame which was burning to guide its mother back to -virtue by the paths of love and self-control.</p> - -<p>These, briefly, are some of the present evils which -beset the lives of the young women who become mothers -in our workhouses.</p> - -<p>It was to cure some of such evils that a few ladies -associated themselves together in the spring of 1876. -We bound ourselves by no rules or bye-laws, for the -work is one which is entirely of an individual nature. -Strong personal influence has to be brought to bear on -each applicant, with a distinct and definite object in view, -suggested by the character of the woman and the circumstances -of the case. There have been, unfortunately, -changes in our workers, but we have continued to visit, -with fair regularity, both the infirmary and able-bodied -house of our Union. When work is necessarily left so -largely to individual initiative, depending on the character -of the worker, each lady must, naturally, adopt her own -method of doing it. Some feel that they can do more -<em>for</em> the girls by changing the circumstances of their -lives, while others can do more <em>with</em> them by arousing -their dormant moral natures and filling them with -enthusiasm for good. But all ways of doing the work -are needed, the more diverse the means the larger the -number of women likely to be reached. The very -diversity of the means makes it difficult, however, to -write about the work as it is done by all the co-operators. -It is, therefore, well that I should speak only of my own -plan and experiences.</p> - -<p>I visit about once a week, and see alone in a room, -which the matron kindly lends for the purpose, each girl<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>130</span> -who has expressed a wish to lead a good life. After -talking to her and learning of her antecedents, her statements -are sent to the Charity Organisation Society to -be verified. I try to learn something of her character, -of the ideal she has of her own life, of the plans she -has made for the future, of the kind and manner of good -which appears to her most attractive and desirable. On -receipt of the Report of the Charity Organisation Society -each girl is dealt with in accordance with her past life; -she who has suffered from the allurements and excitements -of the town is sent into the country, being -placed where the monotony and peace will protect her -from herself; she who has for long lived a lawless and -undisciplined life is induced to enter a Home or Refuge, -where order and control will teach her the unlearnt -lessons; while sometimes it is possible to get for her -for whom drink has been too strong a situation with a -teetotal family, who will help her by example as well as -principle. For the woman whose maternal feeling wants -frequent contact with her child to invigorate it a place -is got where the mistress, knowing all the facts, will allow -her servant often to see the little one; while the mother, -whose sense of shame is stronger than her love for the -child, is sent to a place far removed from the caretaker -of her baby, trusting that the money which she weekly -sends for it will keep in remembrance the sin of which -she has been guilty and the innocent result of it.</p> - -<p>It is a common idea that the only way of helping -women sunk so low as these is to send them to Homes. -This idea I would like to modify. Homes are very -valuable in giving girls the opportunities of re-earning a -character when, as they themselves say, they have ‘no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>131</span> -one to speak for them.’ Still, in all these cases where -the fault which brought them to the workhouse (serious -as it may be) has not undermined the whole character, -it is, perhaps, better to send them at once to service. -In their mistresses’ houses they are, unconsciously, -guarded from the grosser temptations which lone girls -have to meet, being guided by influence rather than -rule. The regular, if at times too hard, work of service -demanded by the varying interests and needs of a -family is the greatest help to a healthy tone of mind. -In a good home they see family life in all its beauty, they -see the commonplace virtues in a beautiful and attractive -setting, and the kindliness which is engendered between -the served and the server helps the poor stumbling soul -along the path of duty over many a rough and difficult -place. ‘Oh! ma’am,’ a girl said the other day, ‘the -missus’s baby is such a dear; he do make me forget -such a lot;’ a forgetfulness which was in her case the -first necessary step towards a fairer future.</p> - -<p>It is a good rule to tell every circumstance, however -trivial, to the mistress, so that she can become in her -turn the guardian of her servant against the besetting -sin; and all honour be to those many ladies who have -so generously come forward to take these girls into their -own homes, sometimes giving them more wages than -their services warranted, often helping them with clothes -both for themselves and their children, and giving them -too that priceless sympathy which outweighs every other -gift. Such help saves more pain and makes more righteousness -than big, barren subscriptions to far-off institutions; -for</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>132</span></p><div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The gift without the giver is bare.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>If the girl has been a servant before, she can obtain -15<i>l.</i> or 16<i>l.</i> a year; out of this she can pay 4<i>s.</i> or 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> -a week, and her lady friend can assist her by paying 1<i>s.</i> -or 6<i>d.</i> a week towards her baby’s support. If the girl -has never been a servant, it is necessary that she should -enter service at a much lower wage. She must then -get more money assistance, the sum being decided by -the rough estimate that she should pay two-thirds of her -money, whatever it is.</p> - -<p>The small payment has many advantages; it enables -the mother to disassociate herself from her past corrupting -association; it assists her lady friend to keep -up constant communication with her, whereby she is -enabled to advise about her future, her change of place, -her friends; and it also enables a watchful eye to be -kept on the little one. Its nurse coming weekly to -receive the money can tell of its progress, the lady can -see if it is well cared for, and can by her interest encourage -the nurse to do her best. As a rule the caretakers -become very fond of their little charges. In one -instance the mother having, alas! again returned to evil -ways, the nurse continued to keep the baby without -payment, jealously guarding him against his mother, -‘who might harm him when in drink.’ Another woman -came to ask for a nurse-child because, she said, she had -had fourteen children of her own, and now that they -were all out in the world, ‘her old man said it was so -lonesome-like.’ It is important, too, to choose the nurse -carefully, for she has frequently a great influence on the -mother, who will naturally be more inclined to listen to -the wise words of one who is ‘good to her baby’ than -to any mere well-wisher. The mother by this means<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>133</span> -gains a respectable friend of her own class, in many -cases the first she has ever known. In one instance the -nurse did what others had failed to do. The mother was -one of those people to whom pleasure is as necessary as -food and air. Among happier surroundings her sense of -fun and capacity for enjoyment would have been a source -of brightness, and rendered her a general favourite. For -those in her sphere of life joy is an element considered -unnecessary, and thus is a dangerous luxury. She had -no desire to do wrong nor to offend, but pleasure she -must have, and not being able to obtain it innocently, she -took it lawlessly. Such conduct mistresses rightly would -not allow, and she reached the workhouse when her boy -was about three years old. There seemed to be no trace -of affection for the child, nor any feeling beyond a sense -of irritation at its helplessness and a desire to get it -‘into a home,’ and to be rid of the attendant responsibility. -This last idea it was impossible to entertain, for -responsibility might become her schoolmaster, and lead -her up ‘the difficult blue heights.’</p> - -<p>She was a thorough general servant; hence there -was little difficulty in getting her into a place. A home -for the boy was found, with a most demonstrative and -affectionate nurse, who rarely spoke of him except as a -‘pretty lamb,’ and who loudly and frequently called on -all to admire him. Little by little this influenced the -young mother, who began to be interested in the much-talked-of -and cared-for baby. The deducted wages were -more cheerfully rendered for its support, and as love obtained -admittance to her heart, and all the many cares -which accompanied a child brought interest into her life, -there became less need for the outside pleasures. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>134</span> -craving for enjoyment found satisfaction in giving joys -to the baby boy.</p> - -<p>It would be easy to give many instances of the success -of this work, but one or two will suffice. Jane, a -motherless girl of sixteen, brought up in a rough, low-class -home, and sent to earn her bread before she could -well distinguish good from evil—what wonder that she -came into the only asylum open to her, harmed by the first -man who had ever shown her a kindness? She appeared -indifferent to her fate, but she showed such passionate -and self-giving devotion to the child that it seemed possible -that the mother’s character would be awakened by -her feelings. They were accordingly placed in a house -where they could be together; the child soon died, and -Jane having greatly improved, she was sent to a situation, -where she is doing well, and has got again some of the -brightness of youth.</p> - -<p>Emma, a woman of twenty-six, had for some years -lived abroad with a man who promised her ‘English -marriage,’ but who, on reaching England, basely deserted -her. Characterless and unknown as she was, she -tried in vain to get work to support herself and child; -and at last, half dead with privation, she entered the -‘House.’ She had not a reference to give, nor a friend -to apply to, but she did so thoroughly and well the work -which the Matron gave her, and so earnestly pleaded to -have a trial, that, trusting in my opinion of her sincerity, -a good woman in the country took her as servant, who -now, after two years of trial, writes to ask that other servants -may be sent to her ‘as good as Emma.’ Her boy -is placed in a village a few miles off, and all the holidays, -most of the money, and many of the spare moments<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>135</span> -are given to him, in whom is treasured the one bright -memory of her dreary past.</p> - -<p>But of each girl that is helped such pleasant stories -cannot be told. There are many failures: women whose -resolution deserts them before the old temptations, whose -promises are as lightly broken as they were earnestly -made; girls whose ill companions offer them bright if -lawless lives, and who leave the new hard ways for the -well-known aimless, careless life.</p> - -<p>But, in spite of many failures, the work is hopefully -continued in the belief, founded on experience, that the -idle can be induced to work and learn through daily -labour the gospel which work teaches; that the coarse-minded -can yet see the beauty of holiness if it is shown -greatly and plainly; that the ignorant can yet be taught -if patience be given; that the careless may yet be circumspect -if cared for. Failures and disappointments -are inevitable when the aim is not to make a temporary -improvement, but to raise the ideas and radically change -the habits of a class, to help whom there has hitherto been -so little effort made.</p> - -<p>But there is yet the third class of girls who have -been cast by the wave of misfortune into the workhouse. -These are not touched by the societies for befriending -young servants, for many have never been servants, and -some have started on their career before the societies -were formed. Some come in because their parents -break up their homes and altogether ‘enter the House.’ -In such a plight was poor Martha, a sickly girl of -eighteen, too crippled to be fit for manual work. Her -father was dead; her mother was so drunken that the -workhouse was for her the only resort; and thither she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>136</span> -came bringing her children with her, and among them -the poor weak Martha. The other children were sent to -the district schools, but the cripple was too old to go -there. There was nothing for her but to drag on a loveless, -cheerless life and make her home in that unhomely -place. She was a bright willing lassie, but her labour, -such as it was, was not needed there, where she was but -one of the many useless ones who help to give trouble -and swell the rates. She was deft with her fingers and -capable, if not of entirely supporting herself, still of -adding wealth to the world by her work. A home was -soon found for her where she could be taught straw-basket -work, and on drawing the attention of the Guardians to -her case, they at once consented to pay for the training. -We occasionally see her. She has been taught to read -and write, and to make bonnets and baskets quickly and -well. She is very happy, and, though sighing when -speaking of the workhouse, she adds in the same breath, -‘The Matron was real good to me there.’</p> - -<p>Some seek the workhouse because, having lost their -places and being alone in the world, they know not where -else to go. Some having drifted there more than once -arouse the contempt and antagonism of the officers; and -these, unloving and indifferent because unloved, lose all -hope and interest, and grow stubborn and hard. To -these girls the lady must show herself their friend, and -awaken their interest in life. One girl was sent to me, -not yet twenty-one, who had passed through innumerable -situations, who had been for six years in and out of the -House continually, and who had once been sent to prison -for a breach of the necessary discipline. She was pronounced -‘incorrigible’ by the authorities. I confess to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>137</span> -having felt powerless to work her reformation when I -saw her. Her stubborn set face, her downcast dull eyes, -her stolid refusal to speak in reply to whatever was said, -her apathy on all subjects made me feel that I had not -a chance of touching her. I tried all ways, but at last -aroused her by asking her to do something for me. The -God-born sense of helpfulness in her awoke her sleeping -soul. She felt she cared for the one person in all the -world whom she had ever helped, and that affection has -been her ‘saving grace.’ She is now earning 12<i>l.</i> a year, -more, as she says, than she had ‘earned in two years -afore,’ and her face, manners, and character are rapidly -improving. She comes to me to help her to choose her -new clothes, and I could not but be satisfactorily amused -when the ‘incorrigible’ pauper insisted on having a -‘high art’ coloured dress, declaring that none of the -others suggested were ‘half so pretty.’ Many such -stories could be told, many beginning brightly and ending -sadly, some turning out better than their commencement -would have justified us in hoping. One poor -child, motherless and worse than fatherless, after a short -training in a Home, is now in service, and paying towards -the support of her younger sister; another has a conscience -so awakened as to make her hesitate for long as -to her right to be confirmed because of the sin ignorantly -committed which brought her to the rates, while tales -could be told of women, rough and untutored, who have -joyfully taken the hard, self-restraining path which leads -to righteousness, and who, having once been given great -ideals, receive them as new truths, and patiently (pathetically -so among their rude surroundings) endeavour to -live up to them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>138</span></p> - -<p>Enough may have been said to induce other ladies to -adopt the work. Taking the figures of the last two years’ -work at one workhouse, we have seen 141 women. Of -these we have sent out, to service or to work, ninety-five; -and out of these only five have again returned to the -workhouse. Of many we have lost sight, which is not to -be wondered at when the ignorance of the women of this -class is considered. A letter is to them a thing to be -much pondered, but rarely attempted. Some, after long -silences, reappear to ask advice in some temporary difficulty -or to tell of progress made. Many remain close -friends, coming to call on every holiday or writing long -and affectionate letters. One wrote the other day a stilted -letter of thanks ‘for having altered her position in the -world for one of more sterling worth.’ Her future did -look gloomy when first we became acquainted. She was -the daughter of a seaside lodging-house keeper, brought -up in a cheap (and nasty!) boarding-school, and sent to -London, with many false ideas about work, and some -true ones about wickedness, to earn her living in any -‘genteel’ employment. Her superficial education did -not help her, and she came down lower and lower, till at -last, finding herself in a lodging-house of doubtful reputation, -she rightly chose the workhouse in preference to -remaining there. Her widowed mother, unable to keep -her, and fearful that her frivolities would influence badly -her younger sisters, refused to receive her home. Her -fine-ladyism and ignorance of any sort of household work -were an effectual barrier to her taking service, while her -sorry education prevented her even trying to teach. -Service seemed to be the best opening for her, and the -life best calculated to keep her straight. With some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>139</span> -difficulty she was persuaded to look at it in this light, and -then induced to enter a servants’ training home. She -has earned good testimonials there, and is now a happy -and useful servant.</p> - -<p>The work is in itself simple, and yet has issues important, -not only to the individuals helped, but to the -community at large, for it tends to lessen pauperism, -prostitution, and infanticide. It would be well if every -lady of England were to consider how she can take part -in it. If she is not herself able to visit the workhouse, -she can, perhaps, open her house and heart to one of -these girls who so sadly need such protection and care. -Or, if that be impossible, she might undertake to befriend -one of them.</p> - -<p>Around every workhouse a committee of ladies might -be formed. The meetings need not, perhaps, be formal -nor frequent, but merely friendly gatherings to compare -experience and to discuss reports of the work done. -The visiting of the workhouse is, perhaps, for reasons -which will be appreciated by those who are familiar with -official establishment, better left to two or three of the -members who, after seeing the girls and learning their -histories, should pass one or more to each member of the -committee to provide for. Every lady might be a member -of such a committee. Every woman can befriend another, -and perhaps may be the more moved to do so -when she who needs the help is a girl no older than her -own daughter in the schoolroom. There are few who -cannot help the work of such committees by contributing -1<i>s.</i> a week for the helping of one little baby. Every one -can spare a little of that loving care, can give a little of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>140</span> -that all-saving friendship which so lavishly surrounds the -life of most of us.</p> - -<p>The work, too, is one which married ladies with homes, -families, and social duties can easily take up. Women -in this position are debarred from much work for the -poor, because their natural and more sacred duties -forbid them to run risks of infection or to take up work -which would necessitate the devoting of a regular fixed -day. But from both these disadvantages the work now -under consideration is quite free. In the workhouse the -visitor is safe from infection; the visits can be made at any -time, for the women are always there, and there is always -somebody waiting to be helped whenever one can go. It -is, of course, better to fix a regular day for visiting if -possible, so that those girls who have been seen once -should be able to anticipate the second visit; but this is -not at all essential, and frequently the duties of a mother -or mistress do not permit of long absences from home. -This work, excepting the periodical visit to the workhouse, -can be done almost entirely from the writing-table -in one’s own house. It necessitates a good deal of correspondence -in order to insure obtaining suitable situations -and respectable nurses; but it requires comparatively -little absence from home, for when the girl is once placed, -the friendly connection can best be established and kept -up in the lady’s own house. There she can receive her -otherwise friendless visitor; there she can strengthen -the gentle bonds already begun in the House; there she -can show to the homeless one some of the possibilities of -home, and by such simple natural acts sow seed which -will bring forth much good and happiness.</p> - -<p>It is entirely a homely and personal work done in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>141</span> -home and in the interests of the individual and of the -family; one full of elements of difficulty and frequently -of disappointment and failure. It requires no costly -machinery: wherever there is one woman who cares for -other women; wherever there is a home full of the joys -of family life; wherever two or three can meet together -in common work, there is all the force that is required. -If in every union and all its parishes, or even in many -unions and some of their parishes, those who think that -the work which has been done by a few working together -is a useful one will take up their part of the burden as -it lies near their door, the work may grow. If it grow -naturally and by no enforced development, its results may -be larger than can yet be foreseen. New thought may develop -new plans, wider interest may bring wider change. -Our workhouses may become the means of restoring to -joy and self-respect many who now leave their walls sad -and degraded. Society may be strengthened by the new -link between the envied rich and the unknown pauper, -a link of unassailable strength being formed of love and -service. And if none of these things come to pass, the -effort must still be good which rouses into action a part -of that family life which in its rest is so beautiful.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Henrietta O. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - - -<!--Chapter 9--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>142</span> - <h2 title="IX. A PEOPLE’S CHURCH." id="ch09"><abbr title="9">IX.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>A PEOPLE’S CHURCH.</i><a id="r91" href="#f91" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f91"> - <p><a href="#r91" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> - Reprinted, by permission, from the <cite>Contemporary Review</cite> of November 1884.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">‘The</span> object of the British Constitution is to get twelve -honest men into a jury box,’ is an old-fashioned saying, -which puts shortly enough the far-off end of our laws -and institutions. The jury box may not itself survive, -but whatever takes its place must in the same way -depend on an honest public opinion. The object of the -British Constitution is to secure freedom for thought -and honesty among men. When its laws are enforced -by the service of the citizens, and when the citizens are -honest, politicians may cease to think of the need of a -reform.</p> - -<p>Reforms in the Constitution are now urged because -they will make possibilities for greater honesty and -greater devotion, but if the possibilities are not used the -reforms will make little change for the better. A man -who has a vote may be put within reach of a higher -virtue, but if he gives his vote dishonestly the reform -which enfranchised him will not tend to progress. A -tenant who is secured from eviction, and the landlord -out of whose hands the power to evict has been taken, -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>143</span>may thank the land-law reformers, who have made -honesty more easy; but if the tenant uses his power to -make slaves of his labourers or his children, and the -landlord his freedom from responsibility to do what he -likes, the last state will be little better than the first. A -population which is educated, through the efforts of the -educational reformers, may have new capacities for virtue; -but if they who are educated use their powers only to -take care of themselves, there may at last be a difficulty -in getting any to serve as jurymen.</p> - -<p>The self-devotion which makes men willingly leave -business to do some public duty, and the honesty which -makes them subject interest to justice, are essential to -the greatness and happiness of the people.</p> - -<p>No Constitution can, therefore, neglect the means -which are to develop these qualities. Neglect of duty -is punished by fines, performance of duty is rewarded -by the honours of title; dishonesty is prevented by a -system of checks, which is ever being elaborated by new -laws. All such means fail, and it has become a proverb -that virtue cannot be made by Act of Parliament.</p> - -<p>The Church is a part of the British Constitution, -and is the means by which in old days honesty was promoted; -and if in these modern days the Church fails, its -failure, at any rate, has given no ground for a corresponding -proverb, that virtue cannot be made by a religious -agency. The majority still believe that if men -were spiritually-minded they would care for things that -are honest, and give themselves to duty in the spirit of the -saints and puritans. There may be a morality which is -independent of religion; but there is still confidence in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>144</span> -the power of the Spirit to carry men over the rough road -of duty. There is still a willingness to trust in spiritual -agencies to promote morality.</p> - -<p>Stated widely, the Church exists to spiritualise life. -The ritual and the doctrine, which are often regarded as -ends, are the means to this further end. A National -Church exists to connect the life of individuals and the -life of the nation with the life of God, in Whom all -fulness is, to fill men with grace and truth, to make -them to respond to high emotions and settle them on -eternal calm. Its object is to make men friends, to -unite all classes in common aims, to give them open -minds, willing to learn, and to introduce them to whatever -is honest and of good report. The Church aims -to develop the sense of duty through the sense of God.</p> - -<p>That the Church of England should fail to reach -this object is not surprising. In an age of free trade, -as a ‘protected’ society, it starts at a disadvantage. In -an age of self-government, as a system which is not -under popular control, it is suspected. In a democratic -age, as an aristocratic organisation, it is not understood.</p> - -<p>Chivalry worked well in its own day. The times -changed, and there was no room in the new age for -knights errant. Many were sorry to see it pass away, -with its swift remedies for wrong, its attractive dress, -and its power for good. They tried to revive its force, -and ‘Don Quixote’ is a satire on the effort. The good -man, with all his devotion, was out of place; the knight -of the old age was the butt of the new age. Such a -satire might be made on a Church which tries by old -forms and through an old constitution to spiritualise<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>145</span> -life. A few followers may be attracted by sentiment, -clinging to memories of good old times, and by striking -forms of devotion; but the many will be bound to feel -that the effort with all its beauty is out of place, that -the realities of the old age have become the pictures of -the new age.</p> - -<p>The Church of England is not therefore effective to -spiritualise the life of the nation and to develop honesty -of living. Its present position is indeed indefensible. -As a ‘Reformed’ Church, it offers the example of the -greatest abuses. As a ‘Catholic’ Church, it promotes -the principle of schism. As a ‘National’ Church, it is -out of touch with the nation.</p> - -<p>There is no other department in the State which can -match the abuses connected with the sale of livings, with -the common talk about ‘preferment’ and ‘promotion,’ -with the irremovability of indolent, incapable, and unworthy -incumbents, with the restriction of worship to -words which expressed the wants of another age, and -with the use of tests to exclude from the ranks of ministers -those called by God to teach in fresh forms the -newest revelations to mankind. There are no greater -supporters of the schism from which they pray to be -delivered than the bishops and clergymen who talk of -‘the Church’ as if it were a sect to promote ‘Church of -England’ societies, and strive to cut off from the body of -the people a section of its members. There is nothing -national which so little concerns the nation as its -Church. By the vast majority of those who are the -coming rulers, namely, by the working class, the Church -and its services are unused. The parson may here and -there be popular as a man; he may even be regarded as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>146</span> -of some use to take the chair at meetings to get up -charitable societies and promote the education or the -amusement of the people. He is not, though, looked to -for the help he can give to life, and it is not through -him that the people hope to get vice put down, virtue -promoted, and life spiritualised.</p> - -<p>The place of the Church in the Constitution is forgotten; -so when there is a complaint that impurity is -sapping the strength of the nation, or that cheating is -ruining trade, or that selfishness is making men scamp -work, it is not the clergy who are called on to do their -duty and make a cure, but a new society is formed or a -new law is demanded, and the clergy are not even rebuked -for neglect. No one seems to expect that a Church, -nominally co-extensive with the nation, which is established -to spiritualise life, should do its work. The -position is indefensible. Those politicians who are moved -only by agitation may say, ‘The condition of the Church -is not one of practical politics,’ and pass on. The greater -number realising that the ultimate conflict is between -those who would govern with God and those who would -govern without God, and anxious that the Church should -be effective for its purpose, are quietly making up their -minds to one of two solutions—Disestablishment or -Reform.</p> - -<p>The present means for making the people virtuous or -honest fail. ‘Disestablish,’ urge the Liberationists. ‘Let -the clergy of the Church be stirred by competition and -roused by interest, and we shall have better results.’ -‘Let the connection with the State continue,’ say the -Reformers; ‘let the abuses be eradicated, but leave the -teachers of the nation to be moved by duty and not by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>147</span> -bigotry or sectarian rivalry.’ These two solutions for -making effective the means of developing honesty offer -themselves for examination. It is worthy of remark that -the common arguments for Disestablishment, except -those urged by the opponents of all religion, hardly touch -the principle of Establishment. Secularists urge that -religion being useless and spirituality a fancy, it is no -business of the State to do anything to spiritualise the -life of its members as a means to increase virtue. Their -position is unassailable, and the day on which the nation -decides that God has no relation to life, the Church as a -spiritualising agency must be disestablished, its buildings -turned into lecture-halls, and its endowments devoted to -the reduction of the national debt or to the teaching of -art and science.</p> - -<p>The position of the Secularists is occupied by few. -The ordinary advocate of Disestablishment is anxious -that the life of the nation may be spiritualised, but he -sees that the Church is ineffective, he marks its abuses, -its rivalry with the sects, and its assumption of superiority. -He argues that its ineffectiveness and its -assumption are due to its connection with the State, and -urges that Disestablishment alone will sweep out the -abuses. He condemns abuses but he cannot condemn a -principle which affirms the duty of the State to teach the -higher life, because he himself has probably approved the -principle as a supporter of Education Acts, liquor laws, -and other legislation of a like aim.</p> - -<p>It is allowed by the majority of the people that -the State should teach the life of prudence, and schools -are established under local School Boards to teach every -child, so that he may earn his living. Further, it is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>148</span> -allowed that the State should control the forces which, -for good or evil, may rouse the people, and thus licensing -boards are established to limit the sale of strong drink.</p> - -<p>The same principle is involved in an Established -Church. If the State educates the citizens, and admits -its responsibility for the formation of their characters, -a line can hardly be drawn at a point which would exclude -it from giving the people the means which are the best -security for happiness and for morality.</p> - -<p>The principle of Establishment does not—as its opponents -often think—assert that a sect has truth; it -asserts that the nation has truth, or is seeking it. The -truth abides in the best thought of the whole nation, and -the Church is established to express that truth. The -clergy have no special rights, they are servants appointed -to do the will of the nation. Truth abides not in ‘the -Church’ of the bishops and clergy nor in a book, it -abides in the people. Once when it was proposed in the -House of Commons to refer a matter of doctrine to the -bishops, ‘No, by the faith I bear to God,’ said Mr. Wentworth, -with the approval of the House, ‘we will pass -nothing before we understand what it is, for that were to -make you Popes.’ It is the people, therefore, which by its -Parliament has settled, and may again settle, the limits -of teaching and ritual. The clergy are its servants paid -out of funds set apart for this special purpose. Lord -Palmerston put it shortly when he said, ‘The property -of the Church belongs to the State.’</p> - -<p>The nation, in old language, is holy. The body of -people called English is set apart for a special service, -its laws are laws of God, its work is worship, and every -one of its members owes a duty to God. The memory<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>149</span> -of such a fact was kept alive in Israel where every -town’s meeting was a congregation, every parliament a -solemn assembly, every law the Word of God, and every -workman was inspired by the Spirit of God. The -Jewish nation has been preserved in the Jewish Church. -That the English nation is holy must also be kept -alive. The nation, that is, must be a Church and its -citizens organised for worship. ‘The spirit of nationality,’ -says Burke, ‘is at once the bond and the safeguard of -nations; it is something above laws and beyond thrones, -the impalpable element, the inner life of states.’ In his -own language Burke asserts the holiness of nations, and -it is to protect this impalpable element that it becomes -so important for nations to identify their secular and -religious aspects, to be at once nations and churches with -duties to men and to God.</p> - -<p>Disestablishment denies this holiness, and so lets -escape the strongest element in nationality. Disestablishment -is, moreover, a short-sighted policy, because, -however great be the measure of Disendowment, it would -make the Church of England the strongest of the sects. -In a short time one of the parties now held in union -within the Establishment would obtain the supremacy, -and that party would inherit all the power and prestige -of the position. This party—being only a section of the -religious body—would pose as the representative of religion, -and its clergy would identify their interests with -the interest of God. Again, there would be some Becket -to oppose the will of Parliament, and to call some law -affecting his order ‘irreligious,’ and a clericalism would -be let loose to assume, and perhaps make hateful, the -name of religion. ‘Clericalism is the enemy of men,’ is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>150</span> -a saying which has much truth in it. The pity is if -clericalism and religion are enabled to seem to be the -same thing.</p> - -<p>Disestablishment, finally, would intensify the competition -of sects. To make one proselyte, the supporters -of various forms would compass sea and land. The -standard of morality would be lowered and the flags of -doctrine, invented out of will-worship, would be waved to -bring in rich adherents, and get the use of their money. -Even, as it is, there is no need to go far to find work, which -would fall to pieces if the preacher spoke the truth to the -subscribers about their private life or their tempers. It -is urged that the congregations in American non-established -Churches are large; it is not urged that the people -in America are above bribery in politics or above cheating -in trade. It is not urged that American social life -is spiritualised, and that is the only fact which would be -evidence of the good of the system.</p> - -<p>To sum up the case against those who offer Disestablishment -of the Church as an answer to the question, -‘How is the nation to be brought into union with the -spirit of goodness?’ it may be urged that—</p> - -<p>1. Disestablishment is a destructive and wasteful -method of getting rid of abuses, and would destroy the -power of the State to teach what the State holds to be -truth.</p> - -<p>2. Disestablishment would establish clericalism, a -force which more than once in history has made religion -hateful, and roused for its repression the God-fearing -men of the nation.</p> - -<p>3. Disestablishment, trusting to competition, would -leave poor neighbourhoods unhelped. A poor congregation<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>151</span> -could not hope for a church in which worship -should be stirred by the beauty of sight and sound. An -ignorant population would not exert itself to get either a -church or a teacher. The most needy would thus be the -most neglected. It is only the State which can give with -equal hand to all its members, and which thus can either -educate or spiritualise the masses.</p> - -<p>The solution offered by those who say, ‘Reform the -Church,’ remains for examination.</p> - -<p>These, like the religious liberationists, are anxious -that the instrument for spiritualising life should be -effective. The Reformers, though, recognise that this, -the highest object of any organisation is also the object -of the State, and can only be attained by means of the -Constitution. Individuals may be left to provide for the -wants they have recognised. The State must provide -for the wants of the higher life and send out teachers -to tell individuals of things beyond their ken. The -Church reformers urge, therefore, that the principle of -Establishment should be retained, but that abuses should -be eradicated and old-fashioned methods reformed.</p> - -<p>The practical difficulties of reform are doubtless -many, but they are not insuperable. Inasmuch as -Burke has said, ‘What is taught by a State Church -must be decided by the State, and not by the clergy,’ -it is possible to conceive that the nation, and not a sect, -might determine how truth should be sought and taught. -Inasmuch as now it is the people who directly or indirectly -appoint their rulers, it is easy to conceive how the people, -and not a patron, might have a voice in the choice of the -parson, and how the parishioners, and not the parson, -might govern the Church and the parish. There need<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>152</span> -be no ill-paid, no over-paid, no unworthy incumbent. -There need be no neglected parish, and a State Church -might be as effective an organisation for promoting -spirituality as the State Post-office is for promoting -intercourse.</p> - -<p>Institutions have survived a greater reform than that -which is required in the Church, and those who have -seen the changes which the law-making department of -the State has endured may without fear submit the -right-making department to like changes.</p> - -<p>It is no new principle to reform the Reformed Church. -By a law of Henry VIII. the king has authority to ‘reform, -correct all errors, heresies and abuses,’ and the people’s -Parliament now takes the place of the king. ‘The particular -form of Divine worship,’ says the preface to -Edward VI.’s second Prayer Book, ‘and the rites and -ceremonies appointed to be used therein, being in their -own nature indifferent and <em>alterable</em>, and so acknowledged, -it is but reasonable, &c. &c.’ The Long Parliament -changed the whole Constitution and Ritual of the Church. -The Restoration Parliament undid that work. Throughout -the seventeenth century the Teaching, the Ritual, and -the Organisation were discussed as open questions, and -the present system is the result purely of a Parliamentary -decision.</p> - -<p>Three hundred years ago, to suit the new age, the -new birth of learning, the Church was reformed. The -present times are marked by changes as great as those -of the Renaissance, and the Church remains unchanged. -As was the Church of the sixteenth century, so is the -Church of the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p>The government of England has become popular,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>153</span> -and the people elect the Parliament which makes the -laws; the Church of England is still exclusive, and the -clergy in ‘their’ churches and ‘their’ parishes are still -supreme.</p> - -<p>Freedom has destroyed monopolies; and, according -to a rough scale, justice is equally administered. In -the Church, monopolies still exist, justice is defied in -arrangements which are for the benefit of the strong, -and the clergy are a ‘protected’ class.</p> - -<p>The language and the fashion of Englishmen have -changed, but the Church still addresses men with the -language and the ritual of the Middle Ages.</p> - -<p>The Church, once reformed to suit new needs, the -rites of which are ‘alterable,’ has not been made to suit -the needs of modern times. The Church must be again -reformed. If details be asked as to the Constitution -of the Church of the future, if questions rise to men’s -lips, ‘What will be done about Bishops?’ ‘Who will -fix the limits of doctrine?’ ‘How will the rights of -minorities be considered?’ the simple answer is that all -can be settled by the people. The Reformers of 1832 -did not map out the details of the new government of -England; they simply gave the power to the people, -and the people rooted out abuses and reformed the -administration of law. It will be sufficient to-day if the -people are admitted to that place in Church government -which is now usurped by the clergy or their nominees. -The State is democratic, the Church must also be democratic. -As the State is governed by the people for the -people, the Church must be governed by the people for -the people.</p> - -<p>It is waste of time to make a paper constitution,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>154</span> -which often binds the hopes of its makers to one plan. -Church boards, a popular veto on patronage, or a general -synod, may be the best means of introducing the people’s -power, but it is not wise to proceed as if the means were -ends. Church reformers need not advocate any means -as essential, the one thing essential is to give the people -power to form their own Church; to see, in a word, that -the Church is the people’s Church.</p> - -<p>The obstacle to Church reform is not the doubt as to -its possibility or difference of opinion as to its method. -The real obstacle is the general indifference to religion. -The zeal or enthusiasm which passes as religious is most -often roused by opinions, and, as Wesley said, ‘Zeal for -opinions is not zeal for religion.’ In the noise of controversy -and in the hurry of trade the very nature of -religion seems forgotten. The arguments of theologians -and the sensationalism of revivalists are discussed as -religious problems, in which it is well to show an intelligent -interest, but men do not feel that their daily lives, -the lives of the poor, and the hope of England depend -on their relation with God. If it were really seen that -it is on religion, that is, on keeping up the communication -between the little good within and the great good -without, between man’s broken light and God’s full -light, that trade, happiness, and life depend; if it were -seen that England cannot be virtuous till Englishmen -drink of the Fountain of virtue, then Church reform would -be undertaken without delay. No difficulty would seem -too great to prevent the vast resources of the Church -being brought to the service of religion, and the highest -intelligence of statesmen would be devoted to making -perfect the organisation for spiritualising life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>155</span></p> - -<p>It may not be in the power of those of less intelligence -to tell the method of reform, but all who are weary -at the thought of the present condition of the people -may refresh themselves with hopes. Those who reflect -on the cheerless faces so common to East London, the -dull, weary round of the workers, their deathful life and -their hopeless death, are borne down by the thought that -each lives in the parish of some Church minister. They -weary themselves wondering how the servant provided -by the State might better serve the needs of the poor, -how the great Church organisation might eradicate unfit -houses, bring wealth to the relief of poverty, and make -the means of joy more equal. They ask themselves in -vain how the house of God might be a house for God’s -children. Unable to answer, they may at any rate -gladden themselves with an ideal.</p> - -<p>The People’s Church then may be so close to the -best thought of the nation that it will reflect that thought -in every parish, as the ministers who have gathered light -from the greatest teachers of science and history direct -that light on to the lives of the hardest workers. It -may be so near to every individual that its buildings will -be the meeting-place of all, the scene of the Holy Communion, -where men will learn to know and love God and -man. It may so bring together rich and poor, the cultured -and the ignorant, that the efforts and the money -now fitfully wasted by rival philanthropists will be directed -to the effectual remedy of ignorance and poverty. The -ministers of the People’s Church may be near to God -and near to men, a means by which the avenues to the -highest are kept open, the spiritual teachers who, by -their lives and doctrines, touch the divine within the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>156</span> -human, and make all men respond to the call of right -and duty, and settle life on eternal calm.</p> - -<p>The conception of such a Church is possible, though -it is not possible to say how it may be accomplished; or -how these competing claims of creeds and rituals to be -religion may be satisfied; or how the rights of men and -the rights of their little systems may be sunk in the -thought of duty. The organisation of the Church of -the future is not now to be sketched. The first step -which it is for this generation to take has been made -clear. All progress has been through the people, and -the Church must be in fact, as in name, the people’s -Church. There must be a parish parliament and not a -parish despot, and the government of the Church must -be by the people as well as for the people.</p> - -<p>This is the first step, and what will follow is in God’s -counsels. It is the people who govern the nation and -decide on peace or war. They have moulded the machinery -by which justice is administered and freedom -secured; the people must also mould the machinery by -which right will be taught and life spiritualised. If -they are excluded from exercising their will upon the -Establishment, nothing can hinder them from destroying -it. God speaks in every age; He has not forgotten to -be gracious, and the people are now His instruments, as -in old days were kings. It is by them His will is being -done, and in that belief the people may be trusted so to -order the Church that by its means the Holy Spirit -will once more show among men the fruit of virtue and -honesty.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Samuel A. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - - - -<!--Chapter 10--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>157</span> - <h2 title="X. WHAT HAS THE CHARITY ORGANISATION SOCIETY TO DO WITH SOCIAL REFORM?" id="ch10"> - <abbr title="10">X.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>WHAT HAS THE CHARITY ORGANISATION<br />SOCIETY TO DO WITH SOCIAL REFORM?</i><a id="r101" href="#f101" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f101"> - <p><a href="#r101" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> - A Paper read at a meeting of members of the Charity Organisation - Society, held at the Kensington Vestry Hall on February 28, 1884.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">I feel</span> not a little shy at speaking to so large and -thoughtful a body of workers; and I should not have -ventured to accede to Mr. Loch’s proposal had I not -felt myself to be an old friend of the Charity Organisation -Society. I cannot say that I have ever seen its -founder, neither was I present at its birth, but I was at -its christening, when some long names were given; and -later, at its confirmation, I heard the duty undertaken, -and indeed the declaration made, that the main object -of its existence was ‘to improve the condition of the -poor.’</p> - -<p>I am very proud of our friend; but, being a Charity -Organiser, I can see his faults, of which, to my mind, -one of the chief is that he has forgotten his baptism! I -do not mean his name, but some of the promises then -made for him. Far from forgetting his name, he thinks -rather too much of it, having fallen into the aristocratic<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>158</span> -fault of believing a name more important than a -character; and inasmuch as ‘on what we dwell that we -become,’ he has run the danger—and we will not say -wholly escaped it—of sacrificing the one to the other. -He has, in short, unkindly ignored the thoughts and -wishes of some of his god-parents. Have not his friends -a right to be aggrieved?</p> - -<p>We hear nowadays much about Social Reform, which, -being interpreted, means, I suppose, the removal of certain -conditions in and around society which stand in the -way of man’s progress towards perfection.</p> - -<p>Every human being, surely, ought to be able to make -a free choice for good or evil. It is, no doubt, possible -for each of us to choose the higher or the lower life ‘in -that state of life in which it has pleased God to call us’; -but the condition of some states keeps the higher life -very low.</p> - -<p>The moralists may tell about the educating influence -of resistance to temptations; but are not temptations -strong enough in themselves without being buttressed -by conditions? Even the most ingenious of Eve’s -apologists has never ventured to advance the view that -she was hungry.</p> - -<p>It should be a matter of man’s free will alone that -determines which life he lives. Social conditions, over -which as an individual he has no power, now too often -determine for him, for there are forces in and around -society which crush down the individual will of man -and which bind his limbs so tightly that not only his -course, but too often his gait, has been determined for -him.</p> - -<p>1. Great Wealth.—Can a man live the highest life<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>159</span> -whose abundance puts out of daily practice the priceless -privilege of personal sacrifice—from whom effort is -undemanded—whose floors are padded should he chance -to fall—whose walls, golden though they be, are dividing -barriers, high and strong, between him and his fellow-men?</p> - -<p>2. Great Poverty.—Can a man live the highest life -when the preservation of his stunted, unlovely body -occupies all his thoughts—from whose life pleasure is -crushed out by ever-wearying work—to whom thought -is impossible (the brain needs food and leisure to set -it going)—to whom knowledge, one of the prophets of -the nineteenth century and a revealer of the Most High, -is denied?</p> - -<p>3. Unequal Laws.—Is a man wholly unfettered in his -choice of life when his country’s laws have allowed him -to become a victim to unsanitary dwellings—when they -permit him to sin, by providing that his wrong should -(on himself) be resultless—when its ministers of justice, -interpreting its laws, declare in the strong tones of -action that bread-stealing is more wicked than wife-beating? -Or is the highest life made more possible -by laws that allow so much of our great mother earth—God-blessed -for the use of mankind—to be reserved -for the exclusive benefit and enjoyment of the upper -classes?</p> - -<p>4. Division of Classes.—Love is the strongest force -in the universe. At least the ancient teachers thought -so when they renamed God, and left Him with the -Christian name of Love. But love, a certain kind of -love for which no other makes up, becomes impossible -by the great division between classes. We cannot love<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>160</span> -what we do not know; it is as the American said, ‘Oh, -Jones! I hate that fellow.’ ‘Hate him?’ asked his -friend; ‘why, I did not think you knew him.’ ‘No, I -don’t,’ was the reply; ‘if I did, I guess I shouldn’t -hate him.’ The division between classes is a wrong to -both classes. The poor lose something by their ignorance -of the grace, the culture, and the wider interests -of the rich; the rich lose far more by their ignorance -of the patience, the meekness, the unself-consciousness, -the self-sacrifice, and the great strong hopefulness of the -poor.</p> - -<p>5. Besides these conditions, others exist, forming -barriers and hindering a man from leading his true life, -such as want of light, space, and beauty. The sun-rising -is to a large number of town livers only an intimation—and -rarely an agreeable one—that they must -get out of bed. It is but the lighting of a lamp, and -not, as Blake said, the rising of an innumerable company -of the heavenly host consecrating the day to duty -by crying, ‘Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty.’ -And even if there is the space to see the sky, there is still -the absence of leisure to watch its unhurried changes. -We all haste and rush, we hurry and drive. The very -parlance of the day adopts new words to express dispatch, -and one dear old body whom I know, who is -sixty years old and of appropriate proportions, constantly -informs me that she ‘flew’ hither and thither—a -method of locomotion which, in earlier years, I remember, -she reserved strictly for future and more -heavenly purposes.</p> - -<p>But enough has been said of the ills of society. We -all know them. The hearts of some of us have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>161</span> -very sick for many a weary year. The hands of those -who have sat on the height and watched the progress of -the battle have become tired, and have been upheld only -by faith and prayer. But reinforcements have arrived; -friends for the poor have arisen; from all sides press -forward willing volunteers, who say, ‘Put us in our -place. Let us do something. How can we break down -these barriers—unloose the golden fetters of these imprisoned -souls—or relieve the burdened shoulders of those -pale dungeoned creatures? How are we to make strength -out of union—to right wrongs, and give to every man -the light by which to see to make his choice?’</p> - -<p>If one is to carry heavy weights one must have -trained muscles. If one is to reply one must know. -The Charity Organisation Society is the watchman set on -a hill, who by his very constitution has special facilities -for giving an answer—and a wise one—to these questions. -He has exceptional opportunities for knowing -both the classes in which social reform is most needed, -and knows them under the best conditions. The rich -come to him with ‘minds on helpfulness bent’; the poor -come at a time when their hearts are sore, when their -lives are troubled, when their sorrows have made them -‘unmanfully meek,’ and they are willing to lay their lives -and circumstances bare to inquiring eyes. For fifteen -years the one class has been meeting the other in the -thirty-nine district offices provided by the Society, and -some 230,000 families have asked for succour when they -have been either morally, physically, or circumstantially -sick. Last year alone 14,132<i>l.</i> passed through the hands -of this Director of Charity, and at this moment there are -more than 2,000 men and women actively engaged in his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>162</span> -work, while he records the names of nearly 3,000 subscribers -whose money is an earnest of sympathy and -potential working power.</p> - -<p>But magnificent as this sounds, and <em>is</em> (for there can -be no doubt about it that our friend is a very fine -fellow), still there are flaws both in his past and present -constitution and character which make his work less -effective than it otherwise might be. Briefly, his heart -is not large enough for his body—his circulation is slow—his -movements are ponderous—and, being slightly -hard of hearing, he does not take in things until some -little time after other people have done so. Then, too, -he is somewhat a creature of habit; his mind does not -readily assimilate new ideas, and he does rather an -unusual number of things because ‘he always has done -so.’ His <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><i>raison d’être</i></span>, his whole work, is founded on -the first word of his name—Charity—(which the new -translators tell us we may call love, if we like), and yet -he is sometimes curiously persistent in ‘thinking evil,’ -and he hardly, I fear, ‘hopeth all things,’ nor yet lives -up to his standard of ‘never failing’; or what does 463 -cases thrown aside as ‘undeserving and ineligible’ mean -in this last month’s returns of work?</p> - -<p>Then he has an odd way of talking about his work. -I have often seen ordinary, commonplace, every-day -sort of people begin to listen to him with keen interest, -but gradually drop eyelids and lose sympathy as he -threads his way through investigations, organisations, -registrations, co-operations, applications, administrations, -each and all done by multiplication!</p> - -<p>This is a pity, for of course the every-day sort of -people are most wanted to help him. He cannot only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>163</span> -work with people who have been cradled in blue-books -and nourished with statistics, nor yet with those who -are like the man who ‘did not care to look unless he -could see the future.’</p> - -<p>Some people dislike this faulty creature very much. -They see no good in him, and call him all sorts of hard -names; but then one is apt to find faults in large people -more unbearable than in little ones. Clumsy people, if -big, are so very clumsy; they tumble over the furniture, -and kick the pet dog, and if they do chance to -tread on toes it hurts so very much! and that is partly -the case with him. But he has virtues, and plenty of -them; he is not afraid of work, and he really cares for -the poor; he is exceedingly honourable about money; -he is methodical and business-like; he is thorough in -all he does, thinking no detail beneath his notice; he -is accurate about his facts and moderate in his statements; -he is most even in his temper (though personally -I should like him better if I could once see him -in a rage), and he is patient and painstaking; he is -humble, though conceited, too; that is, with the sort -of conceit that one sometimes meets with in swimmers -who know that they do the stroke ‘quite perfectly’ but -yet are somewhat afraid of deep water; fearful, not of -their breath or strength failing, but of the cramp, or -jelly-fish, or other unknown dangers of the deep.</p> - -<p>But that he is a fine being we shall all agree, with a -full, rich nature; and if he could or would add to his many -virtues that of adaptability; if he would become a little -more elastic in his fingers as well as in his body; if he -would take digitalis, in the shape of hearty hand-shaking, -to improve his circulation; if he would determine every<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>164</span> -week to do some new thing, ‘just for a change’; if he -would, having been awakened by all his baptismal names, -remind himself—just while he was dressing—of the main -object of his existence; if he would not be above using -an ear-trumpet, particularly on those occasions when he -leaves his papers and goes to ‘sup sorrow with the poor’—if -he would do some or all of these things we might -yet see his strong arm foremost among those who remove -barriers to let in light; we might yet hear his strong -voice giving out with no uncertain sound the charitable—the -loving—answer to some of these soul-stirring -questions.</p> - -<p>For instance (and you will perhaps pardon me for -carrying you into Committee for a few minutes), here is -the case of Williamson, a man of forty, with his wife, -three living children, and the recollections of the funerals -of two. He is a casual dock-labourer, working when he -can get work, and then only if his bad leg allows him. -His wife asks for a loan to enable her to stock more -fully her street-hawking basket. The father is described -as a ‘quiet, steady man.’ The mother is a ‘decent -woman.’ The decision of the Committee is ‘ineligible,’ -and Williamson goes away a sadder and no wiser man.</p> - -<p>And why is the case ineligible? Because the Committee -think that money will do the family no good. -The people are below the stage when money help can be -useful. They have drifted till they are, in fact, ineligible -for what the Society, materialistic as the age which -counts money the greatest good, feels itself alone able to -give, and by the decision of the Committee they are -allowed to drift still. And yet not one of us could say -that this family did not need help. On the case-paper,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>165</span> -in the very middle of the first page, stand two <em>helpable</em> -facts. Williamson is only casually employed by a great -permanent company. Williamson is in no club.</p> - -<p>Charitable <em>effort</em> needs organising even more than -charitable <em>relief</em>. Some people fear the devil more than -they love God; or, in other words, they fear to do harm -more than they love to do good. Seeing that money -unwisely bestowed does great harm, they have hastened -to organise it, neglecting meanwhile to organise effort, -which for the creation of good is stronger than money for -the creation of evil.</p> - -<p>Williamson, with his rough, decent wife and his -three unkempt children, is, let us grant, ineligible for -charitable relief, but not for charitable effort. That might -be directed to induce him to belong to a club, to take intelligent -interest in the actions of his country, to realise, -helped by Sir Walter Scott or Tourgénief, the thoughts of -other nations, the character of other centuries or classes. -Let effort be used to help him to accept the strength -which union gives to resistance, be it to personal temptation -or to public wrong.</p> - -<p>And could not charitable effort undertake that Mrs. -Williamson’s tiring day be less degradingly tiring? -Could it not provide a cosy parlour-club, or a chair more -tempting than an upright Windsor, in which darning and -mending would be possible? And perhaps that dull task -would not be so wholly distasteful if enlivened by a sweet -voice, who would read ideas into the stitches, or sing -patches into rhythmical relations. Such effort would -soon make a difference in the unkempt appearance of -the little Williamsons, and maybe evenings given up to -those who cannot ‘ask us again’ or Sunday-planned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>166</span> -walks would not be entirely wasted efforts, and if multiplied -to any extent might have a perceptible influence -on our country’s conscience, though it might perhaps reduce -our country’s revenue from excise and customs.</p> - -<p>Charitable effort, too, might make gutter-mud and -street-fights less attractive to John, Sarah, and Jane by -providing them with playgrounds as well as something—and -perhaps young philanthropists will add somebody—to -play with. And could not charitable effort take the -children for a few weeks out of the one room to learn -ideals of cleanliness and to have some fun which is not -naughty in the cottage homes of our country villages?</p> - -<p>And wisely directed effort might, too, aim at abolishing -the system of casual labour at the docks—a system -which keeps thousands of half-fed men hanging each -morning about the dock gates because on one day in -ten all may be wanted—a system which degrades men -by forcing them to scramble for their work and almost -enjoy the chance on which homes and existence depend. -Such a system is not to be justified on the plea of profit -or on the fear of strikes. But, granted that even my -friend’s great strength is powerless before Giant Dock -Companies, yet is not this an occasion when, if he could -do nothing else, he might use strong language, to which -it is often noticed that neither animals nor companies -are wholly indifferent?</p> - -<p>So much for Williamson. But Committee is not -over yet, and here are the papers of Mrs. Canty—56 -years of age—a poor shrivelled old woman, ugly and uninteresting -in appearance, unable to work from a dreadful -complaint in her face, living with her two children, -the only survivors out of a goodly family of six. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>167</span> -children, a boy of 20 and a girl of 16, are earning 24<i>s.</i> -between them, and the Committee decide that the case -is one ‘not requiring relief.’ Perhaps not—in money, -but is cold, hard money the only relief that the Charity -Organisation Society has to offer? Surely charitable -effort could be organised for the benefit of this family. -Some one could be sent with time and tact who would -help the poor widow to other pleasures than those of regretful -memories; for we read she was ‘well-to-do in her -husband’s lifetime.’ Some one who would make bright -half-hours for her and take her mind from dwelling on her -poor painful face, guiding her to draw strength from the -thought of other lives and hope out of greater interests.</p> - -<p>Is not some one’s carriage at the Society’s disposal in -which she may be taken—she is too weak to walk and has -not been out for two and a half years—to catch a glimpse -of the bright spring flowers and the new-budding trees?</p> - -<p>For the boy too. He may be in a good place and -earn enough for bare necessities; but he has not the -means of getting books, the opportunities for joining a -gymnasium, nor the knowledge of the club, where he -could be re-created and form friendships. These may all -be within reach, and would certainly be for the relief of -such a lad’s hard and monotonous life; but the Charity -Organisation Society, declaring that he does ‘not require -relief,’ lets him go without an effort to give him what -would influence his life far more radically than the asked -for half-a-crown a week.</p> - -<p>And for the girl also. She may be training for good -work, but she must often be tired of the drudgery of her -five years’ nursing done without the help of a competent -doctor—for the old lady ‘doctors of herself’—and done,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>168</span> -too, between the intervals allowed by her business of -widow-cap making. Does she require no relief which -the Charity Organisation Society can give—the relief -which comes through books and patience-preaching pictures, -the relief which follows the introduction to the -singing class leading to the choir, or which comes -through the hand-grasp of the wiser friend when the -road is unusually drear?</p> - -<p>Relief through such agencies would often make -later relief unnecessary—relief which we <em>dare</em> not withhold, -and yet ache as we silently give it to lock hospitals, -reformatories, and penitentiaries. Might not—may not -charitable effort be organised to remove some of the -social conditions which stand as barriers to prevent, or -anyhow make it painfully difficult for these eight people -to live the highest, fullest, richest life?</p> - -<p>And the hindering barriers to the rich man’s life. I -have hardly said a word about him, yet I am quite -sorry for him, more sorry than for his poor neighbour; -but there is not so much need for anyone to look after -him, because he himself already does it. He had better -be forgotten for a bit, so that he may be helped to forget -himself. ‘He that loseth his life shall find it,’ and the -good, if unsought, will come to him. When he, with ‘all -he is and has,’ goes to reform his neighbour’s conditions, -he will find them wondrously interwoven with his own. -He will find, if he digs deep enough, that the foundations -of both palace and court are of the same material, -and also that he both sees further and breathes easier -after having melted down his golden walls to frame his -neighbour’s pictures.</p> - -<p>But the Charity Organisation Society could help him.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>169</span> -It must help both the rich and the poor. It must make -of itself a bridge by which the one set of condition-hindered -people can cross to reach the other condition-hindered -people; and, as is sometimes the case in fairy -tales, the hindrance will in individual cases disappear in -the very act of crossing the bridge.</p> - -<p>I do not mean that the mere meeting will in itself be -a social reform, but it will tend to it, and that in the -best way. Which of us having once been in a court -disgraceful to our civilisation, and yet all that forty or -fifty families have to call ‘home,’ would lose a chance of -promoting a Sanitary Aid Committee or of getting the -law enforced or amended? Which of us, having once -seen a Whitechapel alley at five o’clock on an August -afternoon, and realising all it means, besides physical -discomfort, could go and enjoy our afternoon tea, daintily -spread on the shady lawn, and not ask himself difficult -questions about his own responsibility—while one man -has so much and another so little? The answer would, -maybe, have legal results. Which of us, having sat by -the sick-bed of the work-worn man (not having relieved -ourselves by giving him a shilling), can return and drink -for our pleasure the wine which might be his health? -Which of us, having become acquainted with the low -ideas, the coarse thoughts, the unholy hopes of (pardon -the expression) the ‘outcast poor,’ can reject the privilege -of self-sacrifice for their help; can neglect, at the -cost of any personal trouble, a single effort which will -aid their ‘growth in grace’?</p> - -<p>Evil is wrought from ignorance as well as want of -thought; and the rich suffer from not knowing, as much -as the poor from not being known. Both classes want<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>170</span> -help. They cannot alone break down their barriers, -and alone they cannot live their best life. Our Society -must help them—our Society, guided by wise rules as to -what not to do, can introduce, as the children say, Mr. -Too-Much to Miss Too-Little; it can be the ‘Helpful -Society,’ helping the man stifled with too much; helping -the man starving with too little; helping the idler whose -true nature is literally ‘dying for something to do’; helping -the worker who seeks the grave gladly from fatigue; -helping the lonely man to find his place in the crowd, and -the crowd-tired man to opportunities of solitude; helping -the owner of knowledge to outpour his treasures, and -the ignorant to receive the same; helping the merry-maker -to make merry, and the sorrowful to teach the -lessons of pain; helping those who have found the true -meaning of life to ring out their news to those of us who -are still groping and restless for assurance; helping, in -short, all who will give effort to wise uses.</p> - -<p>Practically the thirty-nine district offices might each -be the centre of all those forces which, under any name, -are directed against the evils and hardships of life. -Their rooms might be the places in which the members -of charitable societies would hold their meetings. And, -instead of dreading association with the Charity Organisation -Society, all honest workers might hope to find in -connection with it associates the most helpful. One day -the committee-room would be occupied by a Relief Society, -which would make its grants; another day would find -ladies gathered to consult on some Befriending Society. -Each day the office would have its charitable use, and -people of all sorts would meet, thinkers and workers; the -clergy and the laymen; the man with the new scheme<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>171</span> -and the well-worn worker in the old paths; the -practical reformer and the enthusiast. A kind of registry -might be kept by which those wanting to help might be -introduced into empty posts of helpfulness. It would no -longer happen that a man should be kept years at case-writing -when he had within him a divine gift for -managing boys. Clergymen, members of societies, by -advertising their vacant posts, could then find among -other societies able helpers.</p> - -<p>Practically it seems a small thing to say, let the -offices be more generously used; let the secretaries make -it their business to find out the vacant posts of usefulness -in clubs, night schools, &c. Such a simple practical -reform might have great issues. Frequent meetings -would result in action, weak local boards be strengthened, -pressure brought to bear on neglectful officials, vacancies -in the ranks of teachers and visitors filled, and a public -opinion formed strong enough to condemn both luxury -and suffering—both over and under work. If such a -scope of action frightens those who are conscious of thin -ranks and limited resources, let them remember that it -is the thought of wider action which will tempt in recruits. -Many who have no taste for ‘case work’ and -Committee forms will be glad co-operators when, in any -way, they can be brought face to face with the poor; -when they can feel that, by their organised effort, some -steps are being made in social reform.</p> - -<p>I do not for a moment mean to imply that I believe -society will be reformed if the Charity Organisation Society -were to decide to adopt a larger policy or a more -embracing area of work. Even those of us who most -believe in it must acknowledge that it is but one among<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>172</span> -many influencing forces; but it is possible to hope that -all such influences working together may make a community -where conditions (as mountains in landscapes) -will only make variety in the level of humanity. A flat -country is dull. Mountains and valleys are much more -beautiful; but then the hills lend their beauty to the -dales—their torrents fertilise the low-lying lands, and the -lofty mountain crag which first gains the light, and is the -last to lingeringly let it go, gives back its reflected glory -to gladden the shadowed valley.</p> - -<p>A sameness of circumstances might not mean social -reform (indeed, personally, I doubt if anything but love -for God will mean social reform), but reform is necessary, -and with that we all agree. ‘Effort is bootless, toil is -fruitless’; with that we do not agree—our very presence -here denies it. There only remains then that organised -effort should be directed towards reform, noticing, by the -way, that, having swept the room, we do not leave the -broom about! If those who make the effort will, not -neglecting statistics, returns, and order, keep their eye on -the far-away issue, which is the life of man raised to its -perfect fulness, our children may, ‘with pulses stirred to -generosity,’ rejoice to tell the tale of what the Charity -Organisation Society did for social reform.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Henrietta O. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - - - - -<!--Chapter 11--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>173</span> - <h2 title="XI. SENSATIONALISM IN SOCIAL REFORM." id="ch11"><abbr title="11">XI.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>SENSATIONALISM IN SOCIAL REFORM.</i><a id="r111" href="#f111" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f111"> - <p><a href="#r111" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> - Reprinted, by permission, from the <cite>Nineteenth Century</cite> of February 1886.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">Theudas</span> and Jesus were alike moved by the suffering of -the Jews. Theudas, ‘boasting himself to be somebody, -drew away much people’; Jesus, who did not ‘strive nor -cry,’ had only a few disciples, and died deserted by these.</p> - -<p>The present method of reform is by striving and -crying. The voice of those who see the evils of society -is heard in the streets, and much people is drawn to -meetings and demonstrations. Many, moved by what -they hear, profess themselves to be ‘frantic,’ and the -country seems ready for a moral revolt.</p> - -<p>What shall the end be? Will the evil cease because -the bitter cry of those who suffer is heard in the land? -Will the ‘frantic’ striving of many people relieve society -from the slavery of selfishness and lead to a moral reform, -or will it be that after a few months some one like -Browning’s Cardinal will be found saying, ‘I have known -four-and-twenty leaders of revolt’?</p> - -<p>This is a question to be considered, if possible, with -calmness of mind, without prejudice for or against sensationalism. -It may be that what seems sensational is -but the bigger cry suited to a bigger world, and therefore<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>174</span> -the only means of making known the facts which must -afterwards be weighed and considered. It may be that -some must be made frantic before any will act. It may -be, on the other hand, that this trumpeting of sorrow -and sin is the vengeance of the crime of sense, itself a -sense to be worn with time; that men trumpet sorrows -for mere love of noise and size, and become frantic over -tales of sin to wring from each tale a new pleasure. -Sensationalism in social reform is either the outcome of -self-indulgence or it is the divine voice making itself -heard in language which he that runs may read.</p> - -<p>Not lightly at any rate are Midlothian speeches, ‘bitter -cries,’ and religious revivals to be passed over. They, -by striving and crying, by forcible statements and strong -language, have caused public opinion to stop its course -of easy satisfaction, and to express itself in new legislation. -For the sake of the Bulgarians a Ministry was -overturned; because of the cry of the poor an Act of -Parliament has been passed; and the success of the -Salvation Army has modified the services in our -churches. In face, though, of these results on legislation, -and of other results represented by various societies -and leagues, the question still is, Will the same causes -result in raising character? Professor Clifford, in one of -his essays, speaks with religious fervour on the importance -of character in society:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Our words, our phrases, our forms and processes and -modes of thought are common property fashioned and perfected -from age to age<span class="ellipsis">...</span>. Into this, for good or ill, is -woven every belief of every man who has speech of his fellows. -An awful privilege and an awful responsibility, that we -should help to create the world in which posterity will live!</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>175</span></p> - -<p>Further, he goes on to point out that a bad method is -bad, whatever good results may follow, because it weakens -the character of the doer and so weakens society.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>If (he says) I steal money from any person, there may be -no harm done by the mere transfer of possession; he may -not feel the loss, or it may prevent him from using the money -badly. But I cannot help doing this great wrong towards -Man, that I make myself dishonest. What hurts society is -not that it should lose its property, but that it should become -a den of thieves; for then it must cease to be society. This -is why we ought not to do evil that good may come; for at -any rate this great evil has come, that we have done evil and -are made wicked thereby.</p> -</div> - -<p>In judging, therefore, of methods of reform it is not -enough to show that laws have been passed and leagues -formed; it must also be shown that the character of all -concerned is raised. Jesus drew few people after Him -and died alone, but He so raised the character of man -that His death inaugurated a permanent reformation of -society. It is as the character of men is raised that all -reforms become permanent.</p> - -<p>Oppressed nationalities depend for effectual help on -the widely spread growth of sympathy with freedom; the -poor will have starvation wages till the rich learn what -justice requires; and religion will fail to be a power till -men are honest enough to ask themselves in what they -do really believe. Methods of reform are valuable just -in so far as they tend to increase sympathy, justice, -honesty, reverence, and all the virtues of high character. -The answer, therefore, as to the end of this striving and -crying of modern philanthropy is to be found in the -effects which such methods have on character.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>176</span></p> - -<p>On the side of sensationalism it is urged (1) that -laws and institutions are great educators. By the many -laws against theft thieving has come to be regarded as -the great crime, and by societies like that for the prevention -of cruelty to animals kindness has come to be a -common virtue. If, therefore, it is argued, by some -rough awakening of the public conscience, laws have -been passed and institutions started, something is done -to develop the higher part of character. ‘Principles,’ it -has been said, ‘are no more than moral habits,’ and if -agitation leads to laws which enforce moral habits, sensationalism -may thus have the credit of forming principles -which make character.</p> - -<p>It is further urged (2) that, if association be the -watchword of the future and the educational force of the -new age, it is by noisy means that associations must be -formed, because the trumpet note which is to draw men -together from parties and classes between whom great -gulfs are fixed must be one loud enough to strike the -senses.</p> - -<p>Lastly, it is said (3) that many whose imagination -has been made dull by the modern systems of education -could never know the truth unless it were shown to them -under the strongest light. They have been so rarely -taught in school to take pleasure in knowledge or to -stretch their minds, they have so little accustomed themselves -to think over what is absent or to trace effects to -causes, that it is more often by ignorance than by selfishness -that they are cruel. They have been so eager in -managing their inheritance of wealth that they have failed -to use their other inheritance—the power of putting questions. -Such people, it is argued, hearing of atrocities,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>177</span> -learning the cost at which wealth is made, and seeing the -brutal side of vice, get such development of character that -they question habits, customs, conditions which they before -accepted, and become more just and generous.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, against this use of sensationalism, -keeping still in view the effects on character, it is urged -(1) that actions caused by the excitement of the emotions -before they can be supported by reason are followed by -apathy. The people who became ‘frantic’ at the tale -of the Bulgarian atrocities have since heard almost with -equanimity of suffering as terrible. The many who -wrote and spoke of the bitter lot of the poor hardly give -the few pounds a year required to keep alive the Sanitary -Aid Society which was started to deal with what was -allowed to lie nearest the root of the bitterness—the ill-administered -laws of health. The leaders of the Salvation -Army, pursued by this fear of apathy, have continually -to seek new forms of excitement, just as politicians -have to seek new cries.</p> - -<p>Such examples seem to show that the wave which is -raised by the emotions must fall back unless it is followed -by the rising tide of reason, and that the effect on -character of neglecting the reason is to make it unfeeling -and apathetic. According to Rossetti’s allegory, -they who are stirred by the sight of vice become, like -those who look on the Gorgon’s head, hardened to stone.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent12">Let not thine eyes know</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Any forbidden thing itself, although</div> - <div class="verse indent0">It once should save as well as kill; but be</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Its shadow upon life enough for thee.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The emotions, certainly, cannot be strained without -loss. Of the greatest English actress it is told that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>178</span> -she paid in old age the price of early strain on her -feelings ‘by weariness, vacuity, and deadness of spirit.’</p> - -<p>It is urged further on the same side, (2) that the -advertisement which is said to be necessary to promote -association promotes only organisation, or that if it does -promote association it fills it also with the party spirit, -which is a corrupting influence.</p> - -<p>Organisations, we have been lately told, are weakening -real charitable effort. They have at once the strength -and the weakness of the standing army system, they produce -a body of officials keen to carry out their objects -and careless of other issues, and they release individuals -from the duty of serving the need they have recognised. -That the sensational method of rousing the charitable -activities has resulted in organisation rather than in -association may be seen by reference to the Charities -Register, with its long record of new societies and -institutions. That it also inspires with party spirit -the associations which it forms is more difficult of proof. -Strong statements which are necessary to advertisement -can hardly, though, be fair statements, and loud statements -can rarely be exhaustively accurate. Where there -is in the beginning neither fairness of feeling nor accuracy -of thought there will be afterwards a repetition of -the old theological hatred.</p> - -<p>‘Ye know not what spirit ye are of,’ said Christ to -His disciples, who, ignorant of His purpose, would have -used force in His service against the Samaritans. The -same party spirit still sometimes inspires those who hold -grand beliefs and support great causes, the height and -depth and breadth of which they have had neither time -nor will to measure; and such a spirit degrades their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>179</span> -character. It is not a gain to a man to be a Christian or a -Liberal if by so doing he becomes certain that there is no -right nor truth on the side of a Mohammedan or of a Tory. -He has not, that is, risen to the height of his character: -rather, as Mr. Coleridge says, ‘He who begins by loving -Christianity better than the truth will proceed by loving -his own sect or Church better than Christianity, and end -in loving himself better than all.’ A teetotaller will not -add so much to society by his temperance as he will take -away from society if his character becomes proud or -narrow.</p> - -<p>Party spirit—the spirit, that is, which is roused and -limited by some hasty view of truth or right—is likely to -make men unjust and cruel, and so a method of reform -which produces this spirit cannot be approved. In the -name of the grandest causes, missionaries were in old -times cruel, and philanthropists are in modern times -unjust.</p> - -<p>Lastly, (3) those who have claimed for sensationalism -the parentage of some law have been met by the paradox -that laws and institutions rarely exist till they have -ceased to be wanted. In England public opinion condemns -cruelty to animals, and so a society has been -created. In Egypt, where the need is greater, but where -there is no public opinion to condemn the cruelty, there -is no society. Certain it is, at any rate, that the statute-book -is cumbered with laws passed in a moment of moral -excitement which remain without influence because -they have never represented the true level of public -opinion.</p> - -<p>Where arguments are so urged for and against sensationalism -it may be useful if, out of thirteen years’ experience<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>180</span> -of East London life, I shortly collect what seem to -be some of the effects on character developed during this -period.</p> - -<p>The first effect which is manifest is the great increase -of humanity in the richer classes. This is shown not -only by talk, by drawing-room meetings, and by newspaper -articles, but by actual service among the poor. -The number of those who go about East London to do -good is largely increased. The increase is, though, I believe, -greatest among those philanthropists who aim to -apply principles rather than to provide relief. There -have always been people of good-will ready to give and to -teach; there is now an increase in their numbers, but -the marked increase is among those who, following Mrs. -Nassau Senior, work registry offices, on the principle that -friends are the best avenues by which young girls can find -places; or, following Miss Octavia Hill, become rent collectors, -on the principle that the relation of landlord and -tenant may be made conducive to the best good; or, following -Miss Nightingale, take up the work of nursing, on the -principle that the service of the sick is the highest service; -or, following the founders of the Charity Organisation -Society, examine into the causes of poverty, on the -principle that it is better to prevent than to cure evil; -or, following Miss Miranda Hill, give their talents to -making beauty common, on the principle that rich and -poor have equal powers of enjoying what is good; or, -following Edmund Denison, come to live in East London -and do the duties of citizens, on the principle that only -they who share the neighbourhood really share the life of -the poor. In all these cases the increase began more -than thirteen years ago, and it must be allowed that the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>181</span> -development of humanity which they represent is not of -that form which can as a rule be traced to the use of -sensationalism.</p> - -<p>Another effect I notice as generally present is increase -of impatience.</p> - -<p>The richer classes seeing things that have been hidden, -and ignorant that any improvement has been going on, -have taken up with ready-made schemes. Irritated that -the poor should find obstacles to relief in times of sickness, -they, in their hurry, give the pauper a vote, but leave -him to get his relief under degrading conditions. Angry -that children should be hungry, but too anxious to consider -other things than hunger, they start an inadequate -system of penny dinners which keeps starvation alive. -Stirred by the news of uninhabitable houses, and insanitary -areas, and brutal offences, they pass stringent laws -and take no steps to see that the laws are administered. -Affected by the thought that the majority of the people -have neither pleasure-ground, nor space for play, nor -water for cleanliness, they raise a chorus of abuse against -London government, but do not deny themselves every -day the bottle of wine or the useless luxury which would -give to Kilburn a park or to East London a People’s -Palace. Hearing that the masses are irreligious, means -are supported without regard as to what must be the influence -on thoughtful men of associating religion with -things which are not true, nor honourable, nor lovely, -nor of good report.</p> - -<p>On all sides among persons of good-will there seems to -be the belief that things done <em>for</em> people are more effective -than things done <em>with</em> people. There is an absence of -the patience—the passionate patience—which is content<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>182</span> -to examine, to serve, to wait, and even to fail, so long as -what is done shall be well done.</p> - -<p>The same impatience which takes this shape among -the richer classes is, I think, to be seen among the poorer -classes in a growing animosity against the rich for being -rich. Strong words and angry threats have become -common. All suffering and much sin are laid at the -doors of the rich, and speakers are approved who say -that if by any means property could be more equally -shared, more happiness and virtue would follow. -Schemes, therefore, which offer such means are welcomed -almost without inquiry. Artisans, roused by what they -hear of the state in which their poorer neighbours live, -misled often by what they see, do not inquire into causes -of sin and sorrow. Scamps and idlers come forward with -cries which get popular support, and the mass of the poor -now cherish such a jealous disposition that, were they -suddenly to inherit the place of the richer classes, they -would inherit their vices also and make a state of society -in no way better than the present.</p> - -<p>There may be such a thing as a noble impatience, but -the impatience which has lately been added to character -of both rich and poor is not such as to make observers -sanguine of the social reform which it may accomplish. -The old saying is still true, ‘He that believeth shall not -make haste.’</p> - -<p>The other effect on character which has become -manifest is one at which I have already hinted. It is a -growing disposition among all classes to trust in ‘societies,’ -whose rules become the authority of the workers and -whose extension becomes the aim of their work. Men -give all their energies to get recruits for their ‘army,’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>183</span> -recognition for their clubs, and more room for their operations. -‘Societies’ seem thus to be very fountains of -strength, and the only method of action. Bishops aim to -strengthen the Church by speaking of it as a ‘society,’ and -individual ministers try to keep their parishes distinct -with a name, an organisation, and an aim which are independent -of other parishes. The lovers of emigration -have for the same reason grouped themselves in no less -than fourteen societies, and it has seemed that even -to give music to the people has required the creation of -three large societies.</p> - -<p>A ‘society’ has indeed taken in many minds the -place of a priest, its authority has given the impetus -and the aim to action, but it has tended to make those -whom it rules weak and bigoted. I see, therefore, in the -members of these societies much energy, but less of the -spirit which is willing to break old bonds and to go on, -if need be, in the loneliness of originality, trusting in -God. I see much self-devotion, but more also of the -spirit of competition, more of the self-assertion which -yields nothing for the sake of co-operation.</p> - -<p>If now I had to sum up what seems to me to be the -effect on character of the method of striving and crying, -I should say that the possible increase of humanity is -balanced by increase of impatience, by sacrifice of originality, -and by narrowness. Whether there is loss or gain -it is impossible to say, but it will be useful, considering -the end in view, to see how the most may be made of the -gain and the least of the loss.</p> - -<p>The end to be aimed at is one to be stated in the -language either of Isaiah or of the modern politician. We -all look for a time when there shall be no more hunger<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>184</span> -nor thirst, when love will share the strength of the few -among the many, and when God shall take away tears -from every eye. Or, putting the same end in other -words, we all look for a time when the conditions of -existence shall be such that it will be possible for every -man and woman not only to live decently, but also to enjoy -the fulness of life which comes from friendships and from -knowledge.</p> - -<p>For such an end all are concerned to work. Comparing -the things that are with the things that ought to -be, some may strive and cry, others may work silently, -but none can be careless.</p> - -<p>None can approve a condition of society where the -mass of the people remain ignorant even of the language -through which come thought, comfort, and inspiration. -Let it be remembered that now the majority are, as it -were, deaf and dumb, for the mass of the nation cannot -ask for what their higher nature needs, and cannot hear -the Word of God without which man is not able to live. -None can approve a condition of society where, while one -is starving, another is drunken; where in one part of a -town a man works without pleasure to end his days in -the workhouse, while in the other part of the town a -man idles his days away and is always ‘as one that is -served.’ None can look on and think that it always -must be that the hardest workers shall not earn enough -to secure themselves by cleanliness and by knowledge -against those temptations which enter by dirt and -ignorance, while many have wealth which makes it -almost impossible for them to enter the kingdom of God. -A time must come when men shall hunger no more, nor -thirst any more, when there shall be no tears which love<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>185</span> -cannot wipe away, and no pain which knowledge cannot -remove. For this end everyone who knows ‘the mission -of man’ must by some means work.</p> - -<p>That all may avoid the loss and secure the gain which -belongs to their various methods, it seems to me that they -would be wise to remember two things—(1) that national -organisations deserve support rather than party organisations, -and (2) that the only test of real progress is to -be found in the development of character.</p> - -<p>A national organisation is not only more effective on -account of its strength and extent, but also on account of -its freedom from party spirit. Its members are bound to -sit down by the side of those who differ from themselves, -and are thus bound to take a wider view of their work. -They are all under the control of the same body which -controls the nation, and they thus serve only one master. -A public library, for instance, which is worked by the -municipality will be more useful than one worked by a -society or a company. The books will not be chosen to -promulgate the doctrines of a sect so much as to extend -knowledge, and its management will not be so arranged -as to please any large subscriber so much as to please the -people. Instead, therefore, of starting societies, it would -be wise for social reformers to throw their strength into -national organisations.</p> - -<p>The Board of Guardians might thus be made efficient -in giving relief. From its funds and with the help of its -organisation a much more perfect scheme of emigration -could be worked than by private societies whose funds are -limited and whose inquiries are incomplete. The workhouse -might provide such a system of industrial training -as would fit the inmates on their discharge both to take<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>186</span> -and to enjoy labour. It is as much by others’ neglect as -by their own fault that so many strong men and women -drift to the relieving officer, unable to earn a living because -they have never been taught to work. The poor-law infirmary, -too, properly organised under doctors and nurses -and visited by ladies, might be the school of purity and -the home of discipline in which the fallen might be helped -to find strength. The pauper schools in which, by the -service of devoted officers, education could be perfected -might do better work than the schools and orphanages -which depend on voluntary offerings and often aim at -narrow issues. The Guardians, moreover, having the -power over out-relief, have in their hands a great -instrument for good or evil. Rightly used, the power -gives to many who are weak a new strength, as they -realise that refusal implies respect, and that a system -of relief which encourages one to bluster and another -to cringe cannot be good.</p> - -<p>The School Board might, in the same way, be made to -cover the aims of the educationalists. As managers of -individual schools these reformers could bring themselves -into close connection with teachers and children. They -could show the teachers what is implied in knowledge, -introduce books of wider views, and they could visit the -children’s homes, arrange for their holidays, and see to -their pleasures. Much more important is it that the -schools under the nation’s control should be good than -that special schools should be started to achieve certain -results. In connection, too, with the Board it is possible -to have night classes, which should be in reality classes in -higher education, and means both of promoting friendship -and gaining knowledge.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>187</span></p> - -<p>Then there are the municipal bodies, the Vestries and -Boards of Works, who largely control the conditions -which people of goodwill strive to improve. It rests -with these bodies to build habitable houses and to see -that those built are habitable, and they are responsible -for the lighting and cleaning of the streets. It is in their -power to open libraries and reading-rooms, to make for -every neighbourhood a common drawing-room, to build -baths so that cleanliness is no longer impossible, and -perhaps even to supply music in open spaces. It is by -their will, or rather by their want of will, that the houses -exist in which the young are tempted to their ruin, and -it only needs their energy to work a reform at which -purity societies vainly strive.</p> - -<p>Lastly, there is the national organisation which is the -greatest of all, the Church, the society of societies, the -body whose object it is to carry out the aim of all societies, -to be the centre of charitable effort, to spread among high -and low the knowledge of the Highest, to enforce on all -the supremacy of duty over pleasure, and to tell everywhere -the Gospel which is joy and peace. If the Church -fulfilled its object, there would be no need of societies -or of sects. If the Church fails, it is because it is allowed -to remain under the control of a clerical body; its charity -tends thus to become limited, its ideas of duty are affected -by its organisation, and it preaches not what is taught by -the Holy Spirit, who is ‘the Giver of life’ now as in the past, -but it teaches only what its governing body remembers of -the past teaching of that Spirit. All this would be changed -if the people were put in the place of this clerical body. -The Church would then be the expression of the national -will to do good, to distribute the best and to please God.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>188</span></p> - -<p>Because the national organisations are so vast, and -because association with them is the most adequate check -on the growth of party spirit, it is by their means that the -best work can be done. The cost involved may at times -be great. It may be hard to endure the slow movement -of a public body while the majority of that body is being -educated; it may be bitter work for the ardent Christian -to endure the officialism of a public institution; it may -seem wrong that profane hands should mould the Church -organisation; but the cost is well endured. The national -organisations do exist, and will exist, if not for good, -then for evil. They are vast, a part of the life of the -nation, and the cost which is paid for association with -them is often the cost of the self-assertion which, if it -sometimes is the cause of success, is also the cause of -shame.</p> - -<p>Further, at this moment when many methods of -social reform offer themselves, it seems to me that all -would be wise to remember that the only test of progress -is in the development of character. Institutions, -societies, laws, count for nothing unless they tend to -make people stronger to choose the good and refuse -the evil. Redistribution of wealth would be of little -service if in the process many became dishonest. A -revolution would be no progress which put one selfish -class in the place of another. The test, then, which all -must apply to what they are doing is its effect on character, -and this test rigorously applied will make safe all -methods both new and old. When it is applied there will -be a strange shifting of epithets. Things called ‘great’ -will seem to be small, and efforts passed by in contempt -will be seen to be greatest.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>189</span></p> - -<p>The man in East London who, judged by this test, -stands among the highest is, I think, one who, belonging -to no society, committed to no scheme of reform, -has worked out plan after plan till all have been lost in -greater plans. Years before the evils lately advertised -were known, he had discovered them, and had begun to -apply remedies unthought of by the impatient. He has -won no name, made no appeal, started no institution, and -founded no society, but by him characters have been -formed which are the strength of homes in which force is -daily gathering for right. The women, too, whose work -has borne best fruit are those who, having the enthusiasm -of humanity, have had patience to wait while they -work. After ten years such women now see families -who have been raised from squalor to comfort, and are -surrounded by girls to whom their friendship has given -the best armour against temptation.</p> - -<p>That work of these has been great because it has -strengthened character, and there are other fields in -which like work may be done. Conditions have a large -influence on character, and the hardships of life may be -as prejudicial to the growth of character as the luxuries. -They, therefore, who work to get good houses and good -schools, who provide means of intercourse and high -teaching, who increase the comforts of the poor, may -also claim to be strengthening character. One I know -who by patient service on boards has greatly changed -some of the conditions under which 70,000 people have -to live. He has never advertised his methods nor collected -money for his system; he has simply given up -pleasure and holidays to be regular at meetings; he has -at the meetings, by patience and good temper, won the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>190</span> -ear of his fellows, while by his inquiries into details and -by his thorough mastery of his subject he has won their -respect. A change has thus been made on account of -which many have more energy, many more comfort, and -many more hope.</p> - -<p>One other I can remember who, even more unknown -and unnoticed, came to live in East London. He -gathered a few neighbours together, and gradually in -talk opened to them a new pleasure for idle hours. -They found such delight in seeing and hearing new -things that they told others, and now there are many -spending their evenings in ways that increase knowledge, -who do so because one man aimed at providing means -of intercourse and high teaching.</p> - -<p>Those whose aim it is to reform the material conditions -in which life is spent may, as well as those who teach, -claim to be strengthening character, but the admission of -their claims must depend on the way in which they have -worked. They themselves can alone tell how far in pursuit -of their aims they have forgotten the effect of their -means upon character, and how those means are now -represented by people whose growth they have helped or -hindered. Teachers are not above reformers, and reformers -are not above teachers. The people must be -taught, and conditions must be changed. It is for those -who teach as well as for those who try to change conditions -to judge themselves by the effect their methods have on -character. If striving and crying they have avoided -impatience and allowed time for the growth of originality, -if working silently they have indeed done something else -than find faults in others’ methods, they may be said -to have secured the good and avoided the loss.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Samuel A. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - - - -<!--Chapter 12--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>191</span> - <h2 title="XII. PRACTICABLE SOCIALISM." id="ch12"><abbr title="12">XII.</abbr><br /> <br /> - <i>PRACTICABLE SOCIALISM.</i><a id="r121" href="#f121" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f121"> - <p><a href="#r121" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> - Reprinted, by permission, from the <cite>Nineteenth Century</cite> of April 1883.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara"><span class="sc">Some</span> time ago I met in a tramcar a well-known -American clergyman. ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘ten years’ -work in New York as a minister at large made me a -Christian socialist.’ The remark illustrates my own -experience.</p> - -<p>Ten years ago my wife and I came to live in East -London. The study of political economy and some familiarity -with the condition of the poor had shown us the -harm of doles given in the shape either of charity or of out-relief. -We found that gifts so given did not make the poor -any richer, but served rather to perpetuate poverty. We -came therefore to East London determined to war against -a system of relief which, ignorantly cherished by the poor, -meant ruin to their possibilities of living an independent -and satisfying life. The work of some devoted men on -the Board of Guardians, helped by the members of -the Charity Organisation Society, has enabled us to see -the victory won.</p> - -<p>In this Whitechapel Union there is no out-relief, and -‘charity’ is given only to those who, by their forethought<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>192</span> -or their self-sacrifice, awaken those feelings of respect and -gratitude which find a natural expression in giving and -receiving presents. The result has not disappointed our -hope. The poor have learnt to help themselves, and have -found self-help a stronger bond by which to keep the -home together than the dole of the relieving officer -or of the district visitor. The rates have been saved -6,000<i>l.</i> a year, and that sum remains in the pockets -of ratepayers to be spent as wages for work, and by -the new system of relief the poor are not only more -independent but distinctly richer. The old system of -relief has been conquered, and the result we desired -has been won. What is that result? With what a state -of things does the new system leave us face to face?</p> - -<p>We find ourselves face to face with the labourer -earning 20<i>s.</i> a week. He has but one room for himself, -his wife, and their family of three or four children. By -self-denial, by abstinence from drink, by daily toil, he -and his wife are able to feed and clothe the children. -Pleasure for him and for them is impossible; he cannot -afford to spend a sixpence on a visit to the park, nor a -penny on a newspaper or a book. Holidays are out of -the question, and he must see those he loves languish -without fresh air, and sometimes without the doctor’s -care, though air and care are necessities of life. The -future does not attract his gaze and give him restful -hours; as he thinks of ‘the years that are before’ he cannot -think of a time when work will be done, and he will -be free to go and come and rest as he will. In the -labourer’s future there are only the workhouse and the -grave. He hardly dares to think at all, for thought suggests -that to-morrow a change in trade or a master’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>193</span> -whim may throw him out of work and leave him unable -to pay for rent or for food. The labourers—and it is to -be remembered that they form the largest class in the -nation—have few thoughts of joy and little hope of rest; -they are well off if in a day they can obtain ten hours -of the dreariest labour, if they can return to a weather-proof -room, if they can eat a meal in silence while the -children sleep around, and then turn into bed to save -coal and light; they are well off indeed, only because they -are stolid and indifferent. Their lives all through the -days and years slope into a darkness which is not -‘quieted by hope.’</p> - -<p>If the wages be 40<i>s.</i> a week the condition is still one -to depress those who on Sunday bless God for their -creation. The skilled artisan, having paid rent and club -money and provided household necessaries, has no -margin out of which to provide for pleasure, for old age, -or even for the best medical skill. There can be for him -no quiet hours with books or pictures, while his children -or friends make music for his solace. He can invite no -friends for a Christmas dance; he can wander in the -thought of no future of pleasure or of rest. England is -the land of sad monuments. The saddest monument is, -perhaps, ‘the respectable working man,’ who has been -erected in honour of Thrift. His brains, which might -have shown the world how to save men, have been spent -in saving pennies; his life, which might have been -happy and full, has been dulled and saddened by taking -‘thought for the morrow.’</p> - -<p>This ought not so to be, and this will not always be. -The question therefore naturally occurs, ‘Why should -not the State provide what is needed?’ This is the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>194</span> -question to which the Socialist is ready with many a -response. Some of his suggestions, even if good, are impracticable. -It may be urged, for instance, that relief -works should be started, that State workshops should be -opened, and starvation made impossible. Or it may be -urged that the land should be nationalised and large incomes -divided. To such suggestions, and to many like -them, it is a sufficient answer that they are impracticable. -Their attainment, even were it desirable, is not -within measurable distance, and to press them is likely -to distract attention from what is possible. If a boy -who goes out ‘in the interest of the fox’ can spoil a hunt -by dragging a herring across the scent, a well-meaning -socialist may hinder reform by drawing a fair fancy -across the line of men’s imagination. All real progress -must be by growth; the new must be a development of -the old, and not a branch added on from another root. -A change which does not fit into and grow out of things -that already exist is not a practicable change, and such -are some of the changes now advocated by socialists upon -platforms. The condition of the people is one not to be -long endured, but the answer to the question, ‘What -can the State do?’ must be a practicable one, or we -shall waste time, make mistakes, rouse up anarchy, and -destroy much that is good.</p> - -<p>Facing, then, the whole position, we see that among -the majority of Englishmen life is poor; that among the -few life is made rich. The thoughts stored in books, the -beauty rescued from nature and preserved in pictures, -the intercourse made possible by means of steam locomotion, -stir powers in the few which lie asleep in the -many. If it be true, as the poet says, that men ‘live by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>195</span> -admiration,’ it is the few who live, for it is they who -know that which is worth admiration.</p> - -<p>It seems a hard thing—but I believe that it is on the -line of truth—to say that the dock labourer cannot live -the life of Christ; he may, by loving and trusting, live a -higher life than that lived by many rich men, but he -cannot live the highest life possible to men of this time. -To live the life of Christ is to make manifest the truth -and to enjoy the beauty of God. The labourer who -knows nothing of the law of life which has been revealed -by the discoveries of science, who knows nothing which, -by admiration, can lift him out of himself, cannot live -the highest life of his day, as Christ lived the highest life -of His day. The social reformer must go alongside the -Christian missionary, if he be not himself the Christian -missionary.</p> - -<p>Facing, then, the whole position, we see first the -poverty of life which besets the majority of the people, -and further we recognise that the remedy must be one -which shall be practicable, and shall not affect the -sense of independence. It is difficult to state any principle -which such remedy should follow. If it be said -that men’s <em>needs</em>, not their <em>wants</em>, may be supplied by -others’ help, then it is necessary to set up an arbitrary -definition and to define <em>wants</em> as those good things which -a man recognises to be necessary for his life, and <em>needs</em> -as those good things the good of which is unseen by the -individual to whose well-being, in the interests of the -whole, they are necessary. Food and clothing would -thus be an example of a man’s <em>wants</em>, education of his -<em>needs</em>; and it might, according to this definition, be a -statement of a principle to say that the remedy for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>196</span> -sadness of English labour is to be sought in letting -the State provide for a man’s needs while he is left to -provide for his own wants. It is, however, a statement -which, depending on an arbitrary and shifting definition, -would not be understood. If, as another statement of a -principle, it be said that means of life may be provided, -while for means of livelihood a man must work, then it -becomes difficult to draw a distinction, for some means -of life are also means of livelihood. There is no principle -as yet stated according to which limits of State -interference may be defined.</p> - -<p>The better plan is to consider the laws which are accepted -as laws of England, and to study how, by their -development, a remedy may be found. On the statute -book there are many socialistic laws. The Poor Law, -the Education Act, the Established Church, the Land -Act, the Artisans’ Dwellings Act, and the Libraries Act -are socialistic.</p> - -<p>The Poor Law provides relief for the destitute and -medical care for the poor. By a system of outdoor relief -it has won the condemnation of many who care for the -poor, and see that outdoor relief robs them of their energy, -their self-respect, and their homes. There is no reason, -however, why the Poor Law should not be developed in -more healthy ways. Pensions of 8<i>s.</i> or 10<i>s.</i> a week -might be given to every citizen who had kept himself -until the age of 60 without workhouse aid. If such -pensions were the right of all, none would be tempted to -lie to get them, nor would any be tempted to spy and -bully in order to show the undesert of applicants. So -long as relief is a matter of desert, and so long as the -most conscientious relieving officers are liable to err, there<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>197</span> -must be mistakes both on the side of indulgence and -of neglect. The one objection to out-relief, which is at -present recognised by the poor, is that the system puts it -in the power of the relieving officer to act as judge in -matters of which he must be ignorant, so that he gives -relief to the careless or crafty and passes over those who -in self-respect hide their trouble. Pensions, too, it may be -added, would be no more corrupting to the labourer who -works for his country in the workshop than for the civil -servant who works for his country at the desk, and the -cost of pensions would be no greater than is the cost of -infirmaries and almshouses. In one way or another the -old and the poor are now kept by those who are richer, -and the present method is not a cheap one.</p> - -<p>Many men and women fail because they do not know -how to work. The workhouses might be made schools -of industry. If the ignorant could be detained in workhouses -until they had learnt the use of a tool and the -pleasure of work, these establishments would become -technical schools of the kind most needed, and yearly -add a large sum to the wealth of the nation.</p> - -<p>Lastly, the whole system of medical relief might be so -organised as to provide for every citizen the skill and care -necessary for his cure in sickness. As it is, no labourer -nor artisan is expected to make such provision, as there -are hospitals, infirmaries, and dispensaries to supply his -wants. By application or by letter he can gain admission -to any of these, and he is expected to be grateful. -Medical relief is thus supplied; to organise the relief is -merely to take another step along a path already entered, -and properly organised the relief need not pauperise. -The necessity of begging for a letter, the obligation of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>198</span> -humbly waiting at hospital or dispensary doors, the -chance that real needs may be unskilfully treated—these -are the things which degrade a man. If all the dispensaries, -hospitals, and infirmaries were properly ordered, -controlled by the State, and open as a matter of right to -all comers, it would be possible for every citizen at the -dispensary to get the necessary advice and medicine, and -thence, if he would, to enter a hospital without any sense -of degradation. The national health is the nation’s interest, -and without additional outlay it could be brought -about that every man, woman, and child should have -the medical treatment necessary to their condition. The -rich would still get sufficient advantage, but it would no -longer happen that the lives most useful to the nation -would be left to the care of practitioners who, however -kind and devoted, cannot provide either adequate drugs -or spare the time for necessary study when for visit -and drugs the charge cannot be more than 1<i>s.</i> or 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>By some such development as these suggested, without -any break with old traditions, without any fear of -pauperising the people, the Poor Law might help to -make the life of England healthier and more restful.</p> - -<p>In the same way the Education Act might be developed -in conjunction with the Church and the Universities -to make the life of England wiser and fuller. A complete -system of national education ought to take the child -from the nursery, pass him through high schools to the -University, and then provide him with means to develop -the higher life of which all are capable. Some steps -have already been made in this direction, but secondary -schools or high schools are still needed, and the Church -organisation will have to be made popular, so as to represent,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>199</span> -not the opinions of a mediæval sect, but the -opinions of nineteenth-century Englishmen. Schools in -which it would be possible to learn the facts and thoughts -new to this age, Churches in which, by ministers in -sympathy with their hearers and by the use of forms -native of the times, men could be lightened with light -upon their souls, would add an untold quantity to the -sum of national life.</p> - -<p>Alongside of such development much might be done -with the Libraries Act and with the powers which local -bodies have to keep up parks and gardens. It would be -as easy to find in every neighbourhood a site for the -people’s playground as it is for the workhouse, and all -might have, what is now the privilege of the rich, a place -for quiet, the sight of green grass and fair flowers. It -would be as easy to build a library as an infirmary. In -every parish there might be rooms lighted and warmed, -where cosy chairs and well-filled shelves might invite -the weary man to wander in other times and climes with -other mates and minds. In every locality there might -be a hall where music, or pictures, or the talk of friends -would call into action sleeping powers, and by admiration -arouse the deadened to life. The best things gain nothing -by being made private property; a fine picture possessed -by the State will give the individual who looks at it as -much pleasure as if he possessed it. It is no idle dream -that the Crystal Palace might become a national institution, -open free for the enjoyment of all, dedicated to the -service of the people, for the recreation of their lives, by -means of music, knowledge, and beauty.</p> - -<p>If still it be said that none of these good things -touch the want most recognised, the need of better dwellings,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>200</span> -then we have in the Artisans’ Dwellings Act a law -which only requires wise handling to be made to serve -this purpose. A local board has now the power to pull -down rookeries and to let the ground at a price which will -enable honest builders to erect decent dwellings at low -rents. Unwisely handled, the law may only destroy -existing dwellings and put heavy compensation into -the pockets of unworthy landlords and fees into those of -active officials; wisely handled, the same law might at no -very great expense replace the houses which now ruin -the life of the poor and disgrace the English name.</p> - -<p>Thus it is—and other laws, such as the Irish Land -Act, are open to the same process of development—that -without revolution reform could be wrought. I can conceive -a great change in the condition of the people, -worked out in our own generation, without any revolution -or break with the past. With wages at their present -rate I can yet imagine the houses made strong and -healthy, education and public baths made free, and the -possibility of investing in land made easy. I can imagine -that, without increase of their private wealth, the -poor might have in libraries, music-halls, and flower -gardens that on which wealth is spent. I can imagine -the youth of the nation made strong by means of fresh -air and the doctor’s care, the aged made restful by means -of honourable pensions. I can imagine the Church as the -people’s Church, its buildings the halls where they are -taught by their chosen teachers, the meeting-places where -they learn the secret of union and brotherly love, the -houses of prayer where in the presence of the Best they -lift themselves into the higher life of duty and devotion -to right—all this I can imagine, because it is practicable.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>201</span> -I cannot imagine that which must be reached by -new departures and so-called Continental practices. -Any scheme, whatever it may promise in the future, -which involves revolution in the present is impracticable, -and any flirting with it is likely to hinder the progress -of reform.</p> - -<p>But now there rises the obvious objection, ‘All this -will cost much money;’ ‘Free education means 1<i>d.</i> in -the pound; libraries and museums mean 2<i>d.</i>;’ ‘The -suggested changes would absorb more than 1<i>s.</i>; the -ratepayers could not stand it.’</p> - -<p>I agree; the present ratepayers could not pay heavier -rates. There must be other means of raising the money. -Some scheme for graduated taxing might be possible; -but perhaps I may be told that such a scheme means -the introduction of a new principle, and is as much outside -my present scope as the scheme for nationalisation -of the land. Well, there remains the wealth locked up -in the endowed charities, the increase which would be -brought to the revenue by a new assessment of the land-tax, -and the sum which might be saved by abolishing -sinecures and waste in every public office.</p> - -<p>The wealth of the endowed charities has never been -realised, and if that amount be not reduced in paying -for elementary education, it might do much to make life -happier. If men saw to what uses this money could be -put, they would not be so ready to back up an agitation -raised on the School Board to get hold of this money for -School Board work. They would say, ‘No; the schools -are safe; in some way they must be provided and paid -for. We won’t shield the Board from attacks of ratepayers -by giving them our money to spend; we want that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>202</span> -for things which the board cannot provide.’ There is -also a vast sum which might be got by a new assessment—which -in some cases would be a re-imposition—of the -land-tax, and by a closer scrutiny into the ways of public -offices. The land-tax returns the same amount as it returned -more than two hundred years ago, while rents -have gone on increasing. The abuses of sinecures and -of useless officials are patent to all who know anything of -public work in small areas; and it is possible that what -is done in the vestry, on a small scale, is developed by -the atmosphere of grander surroundings into grander -proportions. The parish reformer can put his finger on -one or two officials who are not wanted, but whose salary -of a few hundreds seems hardly worth the saving; perchance -the parliamentary reformer might put his finger -on unnecessary officials whose salaries amount to thousands. -Out of the sums thus gained or saved a great -fund could be entrusted to the governing body of London, -and the responsibility would then lie with the electors -to choose men capable of administering vast wealth, so -as to give to all the means of developing their highest -possibilities.</p> - -<p>Perhaps, though, it is unwise to go into these details -and attempt to show how the necessary money may be -raised. In England poverty and wealth have met together. -It is the fellow-citizens of the poor who see them in East -London without joy and without hope. The money -which is wasted on fruitless pleasures and fruitless effort -would be sufficient to do all, and more than has been -suggested in this paper. There is no want of the necessary -money, and much is yearly spent—some of it in -vain—on efforts on societies or on armies, which promise<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>203</span> -to save the people. When it is clearly seen that wealth -may provide some of the means by which their fellow-countrymen -may be saved from dreariness and sickness if -not from sin, then the difficulty as to the way in which -the money may be raised will not long hinder action.</p> - -<p>The ways and means of improving the condition of -the people are at hand. It is time we gave up the game -of party politics and took to real work. It is time we -gave up speculation and did what waits the doing. Here -are men and women. Are they what they might be? -Are they like the Son of Man? How can they be helped -to reach the standard of their manhood? That is the -question of the day; before that of Ireland, Egypt, or the -Game Laws. The answer to that question will divide, -by other than by party lines, the leaders of men. He -who answers it so as to weld old and new together will -be the statesman of the future.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Samuel A. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - - - - -<!--Chapter 13--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>204</span> - <h2 title="XIII. THE WORK OF RIGHTEOUSNESS." id="ch13"><abbr title="13">XIII.</abbr><br /><br /> - <i>THE WORK OF RIGHTEOUSNESS.</i><a id="r131" href="#f131" title="Go to Footnote 1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="footnote" id="f131"> - <p><a href="#r131" class="label" title="Return to text">1</a> -A sermon preached on Advent Sunday, November 27, 1887, at St. -Jude’s Church, Whitechapel, before a body of men and women engaged -in the work of social reform.</p> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="sp2">‘If I find ... fifty righteous within the city, then I will spare -all the place for their sakes.’—<cite>Genesis</cite> xviii. 26.</p> -</div> - -<p class="firstpara sp1"><span class="sc">My</span> first thought, as I face you this evening, is of your -variety—of your different classes and creeds, of your -various communities, and your various views. My second -thought is of your common object, of the one longing—the -voice of your real selves—which converts variety into -unity. You would save the city. Like Abraham, you -have seen doom impending; like Buddha, you have seen -sights in your daily walk which make the life of ease -impossible. You have met poverty, ignorance, and sin.</p> - -<p>You have met Poverty. You know families whose -weekly income is under the price of a bottle of good -wine; men dwarfed in stature, crippled in body, the inmates -of a hospital for want of sufficient food; women -aged and hardened, broken in spirit because their homes -are too narrow for cleanliness or for comfort; children -who die because they cannot have the care which preserves -the children of the rich.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>205</span></p> - -<p>You have met Ignorance. You know men and women -gifted with divine powers, powers of clear sight and deep -feeling, you have seen such people taking shallow rhetoric -for reason, delighting in exaggeration, clamouring for -force as a remedy, adopting swindlers as leaders, making -a game—a Sunday afternoon’s excitement—of matters -which should tear their hearts, killing time which might -have been fruitful in thought and joy and love. ‘The -future belongs to the man who refuses to take himself -seriously,’ says the mocking philosopher. The ignorance -which accepts the teaching, and which goes with a light -heart to agitate or to repress agitation, is a sight to -destroy anyone’s ease of mind.</p> - -<p>You have met Sin, the degradation which comes of -selfishness. In West London it often hides under fine -trappings. Culture covers a multitude of sins. In the -exquisitively ordered banquet intemperance and self-indulgence -are unnoticed; in the phraseology of the office -greed and selfishness pass as political economy; and in -the polished talk of books and of society impurity loses -its true colour. You, though, are familiar with East -London, and here you see sin without its trappings; you -know that intemperance—over-eating and over-drinking—means -a brutalised nature; you know that greed is -cruelty, and that impurity is destructive both of reason -and of feeling. You have seen the victims of sin, that -drunkard’s home, the gambler’s hell, and the sweater’s -shop. You know that the wages of sin is death, and -that no culture can give to Mammon any nobility or warm -his heart with any spark of unselfish joy.</p> - -<p>Poverty, Ignorance, Sin—these threaten the city. -Your common longing is to avert its doom. Our fathers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>206</span> -nourished a like longing. They hoped in Free Trade, -the Suffrage, the National Education, and they have been -disappointed.</p> - -<p>Free Trade has, indeed, greatly increased wealth; -the number of the comfortable has been multiplied, but -it is a question whether, in the same proportion, the -number of the uncomfortable has not also been multiplied. -Our England is larger than the England of -fifty years ago, but a larger body—like a giraffe’s throat—may -only provide a larger space for pain! At any -rate, Free Trade, which has given us cheap bread, has -<em>not</em> solved the problem of the unemployed.</p> - -<p>The extension of the Suffrage, again, for which our -fathers strove, has had good results; but the example of -later parliaments and the growing tendency to legislate -by demonstration hardly justifies their hopes. Our -fathers held that the possession of the Suffrage would be -effective to destroy Ignorance; they thought that responsibility -would develop the seriousness which is necessary -to knowledge. They—like other good men who need -God’s forgiveness—fed Ignorance with abuse of opponents; -with exaggerations, with party cries, they bribed -Ignorance to establish its own executioner; and now -Ignorance is too much puffed up by flattery, too much -enriched by bribes, to yield to the voice which from the -register and polling booth says, ‘England expects every -man’ to vote according to his conscience, and then to -submit to the common will.</p> - -<p>Lastly, the passing of the Education Act seemed to -many to be the beginning of a new age. Schools were -rapidly built, money was freely voted, and the children -were compelled to attend. The Education Act has not,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>207</span> -however, taught the people what is due to themselves or -to others. Greed is not eradicated because its form is -changed, and, though criminals may be fewer, gambling -is as degrading as thieving, and oppression legally exerted -over the weak is as cruel as the illegal blow. The children -do not leave school with the self-respect born of consciousness -of powers of heart and brain and hand, nor -with the humanity born of knowledge of others’ burdens. -It seems, indeed, as if their chief belief was in the value -of competition, and their chief aptitude a skill in satisfying -an inspector with the least possible amount of work. -At any rate, at the end of twenty years, when a generation -has been through the schools, our streets are filled with -a mob of careless youths, and our labour market is overstocked -with workers whose work is not worth 4<i>d.</i> an -hour.</p> - -<p>Poverty, Ignorance and Sin threaten the city. Free -Trade, the Suffrage, the Education Act have been tried, -and the doom still impends. What is to be done? The -principle of true action lies, I think, imbedded in the old -Jewish tale. It is not laws and institutions which save -a city—it is persons. Institutions are good, just in so -far as they are vivified by personal action; laws are good -just in so far as they allow for the free play of person on -person. There may be need of reform in institutions -and in laws, so as to give to all an open career and -equality of opportunity, but it is persons who save; and -if to-day fifty—a company of righteous—men could -be found in London, the city might be spared and -saved.</p> - -<p>In support of this position I would offer two considerations. -(1) The common mind is now scientific. Professor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>208</span> -Huxley, in summing up the results of fifty years -of science, claims the creation of a new habit of thought -as a greater achievement than any material invention. -The common man in the street no longer expects a -miracle or worships a theory as men once worshipped -the theory of social contract; he asks for a fact. The -fact, therefore, that a neighbour is righteous does most -to extend righteousness. He who knows a just man is -likely to give a fair day’s wage and do a fair day’s work, -to live simply and tell the truth, and it is bad pay and -bad work, luxury and lying, which do most to make -poverty. He who knows a wise man is likely to search -after what is hidden in thought and things, and it is -carelessness of what is out of sight which makes ignorance. -He who knows a good man is likely to have a -passion for honour, for purity, for humanity, and it is -the want of higher passion which makes sin.</p> - -<p>The righteous man is in a real sense the master of -the city. He, as Browning says, who ‘walked about -and took account of all thought, said and acted’ was ‘the -town’s true master.’ Were there in London a company -of such righteous men, the power of Poverty, Ignorance, -and Sin would be broken.</p> - -<p>(2) I am often led to observe that taste is more -powerful than interest. People remain on in situations, -hold opinions, and adopt habits which are against their -interests, because they are more in accordance with their -tastes. They <em>like</em> the surroundings, they <em>like</em> the life, -and liking is an armour which resists the strong lance of -the economist. Now why is it that taste overpowers -interest, and that habit is stronger than law? It is -because taste comes through persons and is spread by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>209</span> -contact. The habits or tastes, therefore, which lie at the -root of Poverty, Ignorance, and Sin may best be met by -the formation of other habits, which come through the -example of persons, by the contact of man with man. -Righteous men are therefore necessary—men who would -live simply and share their luxury, whose gain would not -mean another’s loss, who would work for their bread, -who would do justice on wrong-doers, show mercy to the -weak, and walk humbly before God. The habits of respectable -people, the waste, the idleness, the sensuousness -are writ large in the poverty, ignorance, and sin of the -disreputable. Fifty—a company of righteous men, rich -or poor, setting an example of generosity and honesty, -living Christ’s life in contact with others—might create -habits in them which would take the place of the old bad -habits.</p> - -<p>The question is sometimes asked, What has been -the secret of the success of Christianity? Its basis is -not a system but a life. Jesus, the Righteous One, drew -to Himself the righteous. They that loved the light -came to the light and found the universe instinct with -life. Like leaven, the disciples leavened the mass. Christianity, -in distinction from other systems, gives no scheme -of belief and promises no paradise of plenty—it says -instead, ‘The kingdom is within you.’ ‘When you do -right you have all that God can give.’ ‘The joy of -Christ’s is the highest joy, and His is the joy of the -righteous.’ Christianity spreads, if it spreads at all, by -pointing to a life.</p> - -<p>To you, then, desiring to save the city, I take up the -lesson as old as Abraham and illumined in Christ. I say, -‘Be righteous.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>210</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Follow the light and do the right,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">For man can half control his doom,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Till you find the deathless angel</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Seated in the vacant tomb.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Now, as once more I look at you, I am conscious of -you not only as fellow-workers seeking a common end, -but as our friends. I remember how one has sorrow, -another joy, and another pain; I know the anxiety -which besets those whose dear ones are in danger, and -the failing of heart which comes with age. I go farther, -I remind you that I know some of your shortcomings, -the impatience and the indolence, the will worship and -the weakness, the too great speech and the too great -silence. I think I know the difficulties of some as I am -sure I know the goodwill of all of you. Remembering, -then, that some are sad and some are tried, I say again, -‘Let everyone do that which he knows to be right.’ This -implies self-examination, the deliberate questioning, -‘What do I think?’ ‘What am I doing?’ This means -that everyone must settle what is the law he ought to -obey, and then see how, in word, and thought, and deed, -he keeps that law. Before the bar of conscience all must -plead guilty, and by its judgment some will have to give -up pleasures and some take up burdens.</p> - -<p>‘Thy kingdom come,’ we pray. A sudden answer -to that prayer would, it has been said, be like an earthquake’s -shock.</p> - -<p>‘Thy kingdom come.’ Let it come. At once rich -men would be seen hurrying from their luxurious homes -to restore profits wrongly and hardly taken, and poor -men would busy themselves to put good work in the -place of bad work. The conventional lie on the lady’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>211</span> -lip would become a bracing truth, and the political orator -would stop his abuse to do justice to opponents. The -idler would become busy, the frivolous serious, and the -Church bountiful. For the pretence of work, the business -about trifles, the everlasting money changing, the -service of fashion, the gathering and squandering, the -‘aimless round in an eddy of purposeless dust’—for these -there would be work which would leave men wiser and the -world cleaner. Instead of scandal there would be interchange -of thought, and instead of ‘bold print posters,’ -calm statement of fact. The drunkards would give up -drink, the indolent their ease, and no one again ‘would -beat a horse or curse a woman.’ Men would become -honest and quiet, they would give up envying and strife. -Time spent on foolish books and in foolish talk would be -devoted to study, and all obeying the call of duty would -serve the common good. Such a change in character -would bring about a change in things, and could, indeed, -turn the world upside down. If the rich were as generous -and just as Christ, if the poor were as honest and -brave as Christ, there would not be much left which -Socialism could add to the world’s comfort. Personal -righteousness must lead to peace and plenty, and without -personal righteousness peace and plenty are impossible. -It is, then, for us, with our high hopes, with our -common longing for the time when none shall hurt or -destroy, when none shall be sad or sorrowing—it is for -us to be righteous. We all know a right we do not do; -whatever we do, whatever we give, whatever we are, -there is more we ought to do, more we ought to give, and -more we ought to be.</p> - -<p>To-night, then, seeing the doom discernible amid the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>212</span> -undoubted blessings of this Jubilee year; to-night, -conscious that the progress (for which we thank God) -has threatenings as well as promises, I preach, ‘Be -righteous.’ No, it is not I who preach. It is Poverty, -Ignorance, Sin. It is God Himself speaking through the -pity and anger raised by the sight of these things. It -is God Himself speaking through the reason raised by -the thought of these things. It is God, the Almighty, the -‘I am,’ ‘Who is, and was, and will be,’ who says to-night, -‘Be righteous.’ If fifty righteous men, with -Jesus as their Master, ‘feeding on Him by faith,’ would -form a Holy Communion, the city might be spared for -their sakes.</p> - -<div class="sig"> - <p class="spacedpara"><span class="sc">Samuel A. Barnett.</span></p> -</div> - -<div class="noindent fs80"> -<p class="center sp2">PRINTED BY<br /> -SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br /> -LONDON -</p> -</div> - -<!--BOOK LIST--> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="noindentcenter"> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>213</span> -<p class="sp4"><span class="gesperrt1">JUNE 1888.</span></p> -<hr class="hr15" /> - -<h2 class="sp1 nobreak">GENERAL LISTS OF WORKS</h2> -<p><span class="fs70">PUBLISHED BY</span></p> -<p><span class="sc">Messrs.</span><span class="gesperrt1"> LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.</span></p> -<p><span class="fs70">LONDON <span class="allsmcap">AND</span> NEW YORK.</span></p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter w50"> - <img src="images/dec1.jpg" alt="Decorative rule" class="w50" /> -</div> - -<h3>HISTORY, POLITICS, HISTORICAL MEMOIRS, &c.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Abbey’s The English Church and its Bishops, 1700-1800. 2 vols. 8vo. 24<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Abbey and Overton’s English Church in the Eighteenth Century. 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Cr. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> or 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> gilt edges.</p> - -<p>Popular Edition. Cr. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Macaulay’s Critical and Historical Essays:—</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>Student’s Edition. 1 vol. cr. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>People’s Edition. 2 vols. cr. 8vo. 8<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Cabinet Edition. 4 vols. post 8vo. 24<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Library Edition. 3 vols. 8vo. 36<i>s.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Macaulay’s Speeches corrected by Himself. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Malmesbury’s (Earl of) Memoirs of an Ex-Minister. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>May’s Constitutional History of England, 1760-1870. 3 vols. crown 8vo. 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Democracy in Europe. 2 vols. 8vo. 32<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Merivale’s Fall of the Roman Republic. 12mo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — General History of Rome, <span class="allsmcap">B.C.</span> 753-<span class="allsmcap">A.D.</span> 476. 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Vols. 1 & 2, 1795-1835, 8vo. 32<i>s.</i> Vols. 3 & 4, -1834-1881, 8vo. 32<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — (Mrs.) Letters and Memorials. 8 vols. 8vo. 36<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Doyle (Sir F. H.) Reminiscences and Opinions. 8vo. 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>English Worthies. Edited by Andrew Lang. Crown 8vo. each 1<i>s.</i> sewed; -1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>Charles Darwin. By Grant Allen.</p> - -<p>Shaftesbury (The First Earl). By H. D. Traill.</p> - -<p>Admiral Blake. By David Hannay.</p> - -<p>Marlborough. By Geo. Saintsbury.</p> - -<p>Steele. By Austin Dobson.</p> - -<p>Ben Jonson. By J. A. Symonds.</p> - -<p>George Canning. By Frank H. Hill.</p> - -<p>Claverhouse. By Mowbray Morris.</p> -</div> - -<p>Fox (Charles James) The Early History of. By Sir G. O. Trevelyan, Bart. -Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Froude’s Cæsar: a Sketch. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Hamilton’s (Sir W. R.) Life, by Graves. Vols. 1 and 2, 8vo. 15<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Havelock’s Life, by Marshman. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Jenkin’s (Fleeming) Papers, Literary, Scientific, &c. With Memoir by R. L. -Stevenson. 2 vols. 8vo. 32<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Laughton’s Studies in Naval History. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Macaulay’s (Lord) Life and Letters. By his Nephew, Sir G. O. Trevelyan, Bart. -Popular Edition, 1 vol. crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i> Cabinet Edition, 2 vols. post -8vo. 12<i>s.</i> Library Edition, 2 vols. 8vo. 36<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Mendelssohn’s Letters. Translated by Lady Wallace. 2 vols. cr. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Müller’s (Max) Biographical Essays. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Newman’s Apologia pro Vitâ Suâ. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Pasteur (Louis) His Life and Labours. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Shakespeare’s Life (Outlines of), by Halliwell-Phillipps. 2 vols. royal 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Southey’s Correspondence with Caroline Bowles. 8vo. 14<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Stephen’s Essays in Ecclesiastical Biography. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Taylor’s (Sir Henry) Correspondence. 8vo. 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Wellington’s Life, by Gleig. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -</div> -<h3>MENTAL AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, FINANCE, &c.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Adam’s Public Debts; an Essay on the Science of Finance. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Amos’s View of the Science of Jurisprudence. 8vo. 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Primer of the English Constitution. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Bacon’s Essays, with Annotations by Whately. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Works, edited by Spedding. 7 vols. 8vo. 73<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Bagehot’s Economic Studies, edited by Hutton. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — The Postulates of English Political Economy. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>216</span></p> - -<p>Bain’s Logic, Deductive and Inductive. Crown 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p><span class="sc">Part I.</span> Deduction, 4<i>s.</i></p> - -<p><span class="sc">Part II.</span> Induction, 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<p> — Mental and Moral Science. Crown 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — The Senses and the Intellect. 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — The Emotions and the Will. 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Crozier’s Civilisation and Progress. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Crump’s Short Enquiry into the Formation of English Political Opinion. 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Dowell’s A History of Taxation and Taxes in England. 8vo. Vols. 1 & 2, 21<i>s.</i> -Vols. 3 & 4, 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Green’s (Thomas Hill) Works. (3 vols.) Vols. 1 & 2, Philosophical Works. 8vo. -16<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Hume’s Essays, edited by Green & Grose. 2 vols. 8vo. 28<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Treatise of Human Nature, edited by Green & Grose. 2 vols. 8vo. 28<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Kirkup’s An Enquiry into Socialism. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Ladd’s Elements of Physiological Psychology. 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Lang’s Custom and Myth: Studies of Early Usage and Belief. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Myth, Ritual, and Religion. 2 vols. crown 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Leslie’s Essays in Political and Moral Philosophy. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Lewes’s History of Philosophy. 2 vols. 8vo. 32<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Lubbock’s Origin of Civilisation. 8vo. 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Macleod’s The Elements of Economics. (2 vols.) Vol. 1, cr. 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Vol. 2, -Part I. cr. 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — The Elements of Banking. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — The Theory and Practice of Banking. Vol. 1, 8vo. 12<i>s.</i> Vol. 2, 14<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Max Müller’s The Science of Thought. 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Mill’s (James) Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind. 2 vols. 8vo. 28<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Mill (John Stuart) on Representative Government. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — on Liberty. Crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — — Examination of Hamilton’s Philosophy. 8vo. 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — Logic. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — Principles of Political Economy. 2 vols. 8vo. 30<i>s.</i> People’s -Edition, 1 vol. crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — Utilitarianism. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — Three Essays on Religion, &c. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Mulhall’s History of Prices since 1850. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Sandars’s Institutes of Justinian, with English Notes. 8vo. 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Seebohm’s English Village Community. 8vo. 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Sully’s Outlines of Psychology. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Teacher’s Handbook of Psychology. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Swinburne’s Picture Logic. Post 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Thompson’s A System of Psychology. 2 vols. 8vo. 36<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — The Problem of Evil. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — The Religious Sentiments of the Human Mind. 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Thomson’s Outline of Necessary Laws of Thought. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Twiss’s Law of Nations in Time of War. 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — in Time of Peace. 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Webb’s The Veil of Isis. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Whately’s Elements of Logic. Crown 8vo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — — — Rhetoric. Crown 8vo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Wylie’s Labour, Leisure, and Luxury. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Zeller’s History of Eclecticism in Greek Philosophy. Crown 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Plato and the Older Academy. Crown 8vo. 18<i>s.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>217</span></p> -<p> — Pre-Socratic Schools. 2 vols. crown 8vo. 30<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Socrates and the Socratic Schools. Crown 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Stoics, Epicureans, and Sceptics. Crown 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Outlines of the History of Greek Philosophy. Crown 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<h3>MISCELLANEOUS WORKS.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>A. K. H. B., The Essays and Contributions of. Crown 8vo.</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>Autumn Holidays of a Country Parson. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Changed Aspects of Unchanged Truths. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Common-Place Philosopher in Town and Country. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Critical Essays of a Country Parson. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Counsel and Comfort spoken from a City Pulpit. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Graver Thoughts of a Country Parson. Three Series. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Landscapes, Churches, and Moralities. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Leisure Hours in Town. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Lessons of Middle Age. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Our Homely Comedy; and Tragedy. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Our Little Life. Essays Consolatory and Domestic. Two Series. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Present-day Thoughts. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Recreations of a Country Parson. Three Series. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Seaside Musings on Sundays and Week-Days. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Sunday Afternoons in the Parish Church of a University City. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Armstrong’s (Ed. J.) Essays and Sketches. Fcp. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Arnold’s (Dr. Thomas) Miscellaneous Works. 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Bagehot’s Literary Studies, edited by Hutton. 2 vols. 8vo. 28<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Beaconsfield (Lord), The Wit and Wisdom of. Crown 8vo, 1<i>s.</i> boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cl.</p> - -<p>Farrar’s Language and Languages. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Froude’s Short Studies on Great Subjects. 4 vols. crown 8vo. 24<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Huth’s The Marriage of Near Kin. Royal 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Lang’s Letters to Dead Authors. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Books and Bookmen, Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Macaulay’s Miscellaneous Writings. 2 vols, 8vo. 21<i>s.</i> 1 vol. crown 8vo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Miscellaneous Writings and Speeches. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Miscellaneous Writings, Speeches, Lays of Ancient Rome, &c. Cabinet Edition. 4 vols. crown 8vo. 24<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Writings, Selections from. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Max Müller’s Lectures on the Science of Language. 2 vols. crown 8vo. 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — Lectures on India. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — — Biographies of Words and the Home of the Aryas. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Oliver’s Astronomy for Amateurs. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Proctor’s Chance and Luck. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Smith (Sydney) The Wit and Wisdom of. Crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> -</div> - -<h3>ASTRONOMY.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Herschel’s Outlines of Astronomy. Square crown 8vo. 12<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Proctor’s Larger Star Atlas. Folio, 15<i>s.</i> or Maps only, 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — New Star Atlas. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Light Science for Leisure Hours. 3 Series. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p> — The Moon. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Other Worlds than Ours. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Studies of Venus-Transits. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Orbs Around Us. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Universe of Stars. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Old and New Astronomy. 12 Parts. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each. (In course of publication.)</p> - -<p>Webb’s Celestial Objects for Common Telescopes. Crown 8vo. 9<i>s.</i></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>218</span></p> -<h3>THE ‘KNOWLEDGE’ LIBRARY.</h3> - -<div class="noindentcenter"> -<p class="spacedpara fs85">Edited by <span class="sc">Richard A. Proctor</span>.</p> -</div> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>How to Play Whist. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Home Whist. 16mo. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>The Poetry of Astronomy. Cr. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Nature Studies. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Leisure Readings. Crown 8vo, 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>The Stars in their Seasons. Imp. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Myths and Marvels of Astronomy. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Pleasant Ways in Science. Cr. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Star Primer. Crown 4to. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>The Seasons Pictured. Demy 4to. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Strength and Happiness. Cr. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Rough Ways made Smooth. Cr. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>The Expanse of Heaven. Cr. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Our Place among Infinities. Cr. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>The Great Pyramid. Cr. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> -</div> - -<h3>CLASSICAL LANGUAGES AND LITERATURE.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Æschylus, The Eumenides of. Text, with Metrical English Translation, by -J. F. Davies. 8vo. 7<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Aristophanes’ The Acharnians, translated by R. Y. Tyrrell. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Aristotle’s The Ethics, Text and Notes, by Sir Alex. Grant, Bart. 2 vols. 8vo. 32<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — The Nicomachean Ethics, translated by Williams, crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — The Politics, Books I. III. IV. (VII.) with Translation, &c. by -Bolland and Lang. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Becker’s <i>Charicles</i> and <i>Gallus</i>, by Metcalfe. Post 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Cicero’s Correspondence, Text and Notes, by R. Y. Tyrrell, Vols. 1 & 2, 8vo. -12<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Mahaffy’s Classical Greek Literature. Crown 8vo. Vol. 1, The Poets, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> -Vol. 2, The Prose Writers, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Plato’s Parmenides, with Notes, &c. by J. Maguire. 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Virgil’s Works, Latin Text, with Commentary, by Kennedy. Crown 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Æneid, translated into English Verse, by Conington, Crown 8vo. 9<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — — — — — by W. J. Thornhill. Cr. 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Poems, — — — Prose, by Conington. Crown 8vo. 9<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Witt’s Myths of Hellas, translated by F. M. Younghusband. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — The Trojan War, — — Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — The Wanderings of Ulysses, — Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<h3>NATURAL HISTORY, BOTANY, & GARDENING.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Dixon’s Rural Bird Life. Crown 8vo. Illustrations, 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Hartwig’s Aerial World, 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Polar World, 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Sea and its Living Wonders. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Subterranean World, 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Tropical World, 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Lindley’s Treasury of Botany. 2 vols. fcp. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Loudon’s Encyclopædia of Gardening. 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — Plants. 8vo. 42<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Rivers’s Orchard House. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Miniature Fruit Garden. Fcp. 8vo. 4<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Stanley’s Familiar History of British Birds. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Wood’s Bible Animals. With 112 Vignettes. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Homes Without Hands, 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Insects Abroad, 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Horse and Man. 8vo. 14<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Insects at Home. With 700 Illustrations. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>219</span></p> - -<p> — Out of Doors. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Petland Revisited. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Strange Dwellings. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i> Popular Edition, 4to. 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<h3>CHEMISTRY, ENGINEERING, & GENERAL SCIENCE.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Arnott’s Elements of Physics or Natural Philosophy. Crown 8vo. 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Barrett’s English Glees and Part-Songs: their Historical Development. -Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Bourne’s Catechism of the Steam Engine. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Handbook of the Steam Engine. Fcp. 8vo. 9<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Recent Improvements in the Steam Engine. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Buckton’s Our Dwellings, Healthy and Unhealthy. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Clerk’s The Gas Engine. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Clodd’s The Story of Creation. Illustrated. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Crookes’s Select Methods in Chemical Analysis. 8vo. 24<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Culley’s Handbook of Practical Telegraphy. 8vo. 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Fairbairn’s Useful Information for Engineers. 3 vols. crown 8vo. 31<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Mills and Millwork. 1 vol. 8vo. 25<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Forbes’ Lectures on Electricity. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Galloway’s Principles of Chemistry Practically Taught. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Ganot’s Elementary Treatise on Physics, by Atkinson. Large crown 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Natural Philosophy, by Atkinson. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Grove’s Correlation of Physical Forces. 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Haughton’s Six Lectures on Physical Geography. 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Helmholtz on the Sensations of Tone. Royal 8vo. 28<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Helmholtz’s Lectures on Scientific Subjects. 2 vols. crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Hudson and Gosse’s The Rotifera or ‘Wheel Animalcules.’ With 30 Coloured -Plates. 6 parts. 4to. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each. Complete, 2 vols. 4to. £3. 10<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Hullah’s Lectures on the History of Modern Music. 8vo. 8<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Transition Period of Musical History. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Jackson’s Aid to Engineering Solution. Royal 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Jago’s Inorganic Chemistry, Theoretical and Practical. Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Kolbe’s Short Text-Book of Inorganic Chemistry. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Lloyd’s Treatise on Magnetism. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Macalister’s Zoology and Morphology of Vertebrate Animals. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Macfarren’s Lectures on Harmony. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Addresses and Lectures. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Martin’s Navigation and Nautical Astronomy. Royal 8vo. 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Meyer’s Modern Theories of Chemistry. 8vo. 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Miller’s Elements of Chemistry, Theoretical and Practical. 3 vols. 8vo. Part I. -Chemical Physics, 16<i>s.</i> Part II. Inorganic Chemistry, 24<i>s.</i> Part III. Organic -Chemistry, price 31<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Mitchell’s Manual of Practical Assaying. 8vo. 31<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Dissolution and Evolution and the Science of Medicine. 8vo. 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Noble’s Hours with a Three-inch Telescope. Crown 8vo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Northcott’s Lathes and Turning. 8vo. 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Owen’s Comparative Anatomy and Physiology of the Vertebrate Animals. -3 vols. 8vo. 73<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Piesse’s Art of Perfumery. Square crown 8vo. 21<i>s.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>220</span></p> - -<p>Richardson’s The Health of Nations; Works and Life of Edwin Chadwick, C.B. -2 vols. 8vo. 28<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — The Commonhealth; a Series of Essays. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Schellen’s Spectrum Analysis. 8vo. 31<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Scott’s Weather Charts and Storm Warnings. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Sennett’s Treatise on the Marine Steam Engine. 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Smith’s Air and Rain. 8vo. 24<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Stoney’s The Theory of the Stresses on Girders, &c. Royal 8vo. 36<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Tilden’s Practical Chemistry. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Tyndall’s Faraday as a Discoverer. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Floating Matter of the Air. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Fragments of Science. 2 vols. post 8vo. 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Heat a Mode of Motion. Crown 8vo. 12<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Lectures on Light delivered in America. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Lessons on Electricity. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Notes on Electrical Phenomena. Crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> sewed, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p> — Notes of Lectures on Light. Crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> sewed, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p> — Researches on Diamagnetism and Magne-Crystallic Action. Cr. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Sound, with Frontispiece and 203 Woodcuts. Crown 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Unwin’s The Testing of Materials of Construction. Illustrated. 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Watts’ Dictionary of Chemistry. New Edition (4 vols.). Vol. 1, 8vo. 42<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Wilson’s Manual of Health-Science. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<h3>THEOLOGICAL AND RELIGIOUS WORKS.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Arnold’s (Rev. Dr. Thomas) Sermons. 6 vols. crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Boultbee’s Commentary on the 39 Articles. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Browne’s (Bishop) Exposition of the 39 Articles. 8vo. 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Bullinger’s Critical Lexicon and Concordance to the English and Greek New -Testament. Royal 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Colenso on the Pentateuch and Book of Joshua. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Conder’s Handbook of the Bible. Post 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Conybeare & Howson’s Life and Letters of St. Paul:—</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>Library Edition, with Maps, Plates, and Woodcuts. 2 vols. square crown -8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Student’s Edition, revised and condensed, with 46 Illustrations and Maps. -1 vol. crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Cox’s (Homersham) The First Century of Christianity. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Davidson’s Introduction to the Study of the New Testament. 2 vols. 8vo. 30<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Edersheim’s Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah. 2 vols. 8vo. 24<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Prophecy and History in relation to the Messiah. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Ellicott’s (Bishop) Commentary on St. Paul’s Epistles. 8vo. Corinthians I. 16<i>s.</i> -Galatians, 8<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Ephesians, 8<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Pastoral Epistles, 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Philippians, -Colossians and Philemon, 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Thessalonians, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Lectures on the Life of our Lord. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Ewald’s Antiquities of Israel, translated by Solly. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — History of Israel, translated by Carpenter & Smith. 8 vols. 8vo. Vols. -1 & 2, 24<i>s.</i> Vols. 3 & 4, 21<i>s.</i> Vol. 5, 18<i>s.</i> Vol. 6, 16<i>s.</i> Vol. 7, 21<i>s.</i> -Vol. 8, 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Hobart’s Medical Language of St. Luke. 8vo. 16<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Hopkins’s Christ the Consoler. Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>221</span></p> - -<p>Jameson’s Sacred and Legendary Art. 6 vols. square 8vo.</p> - -<p>Legends of the Madonna. 1 vol. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — — Monastic Orders 1 vol. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — — Saints and Martyrs. 2 vols. 31<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — — — Saviour. Completed by Lady Eastlake. 2 vols. 42<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Jukes’s New Man and the Eternal Life. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Second Death and the Restitution of all Things. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Types of Genesis. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — The Mystery of the Kingdom. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — The Names of God in Holy Scripture. Crown 8vo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Lenormant’s New Translation of the Book of Genesis. Translated into English. -8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Lyra Germanica: Hymns translated by Miss Winkworth. Fcp. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Macdonald’s (G.) Unspoken Sermons. Two Series, Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p> — The Miracles of our Lord. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Manning’s Temporal Mission of the Holy Ghost. Crown 8vo. 8<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Martineau’s Endeavours after the Christian Life. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Hymns of Praise and Prayer. Crown 8vo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> 32mo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Sermons, Hours of Thought on Sacred Things. 2 vols. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p>Max Müller’s Origin and Growth of Religion. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — — Science of Religion. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Monsell’s Spiritual Songs for Sundays and Holidays. Fcp. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i> 18mo. 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Newman’s Apologia pro Vitâ Suâ. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — The Arians of the Fourth Century. 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Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Select Treatises of St. Athanasius in Controversy with the Arians. -Translated. 2 vols. crown 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Overton’s Life in the English Church (1660-1714). 8vo. 14<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Roberts’ Greek the Language of Christ and His Apostles. 8vo. 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Supernatural Religion. Complete Edition. 3 vols. 8vo. 36<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Younghusband’s The Story of Our Lord told in Simple Language for Children. -Illustrated. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth plain; 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> -</div> - -<h3>TRAVELS, ADVENTURES, &c.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Baker’s Eight Years in Ceylon. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Rifle and Hound in Ceylon. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Brassey’s Sunshine and Storm in the East. Library Edition, 8vo. 21<i>s.</i> Cabinet -Edition, crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Popular Edition, 4to. 6<i>d.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>222</span></p> - -<p> — Voyage in the ‘Sunbeam.’ Library Edition, 8vo. 21<i>s.</i> Cabinet Edition, -crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> School Edition, fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> Popular Edition, -4to. 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — In the Trades, the Tropics, and the ‘Roaring Forties.’ Cabinet Edition, -crown 8vo. 17<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Popular Edition, 4to. 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Crawford’s Reminiscences of Foreign Travel. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Froude’s Oceana; or, England and her Colonies. Cr. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> boards; 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p> — The English in the West Indies. 8vo. 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Howitt’s Visits to Remarkable Places. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>James’s The Long White Mountain; or, a Journey in Manchuria. 8vo. 24<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Lindt’s Picturesque New Guinea. 4to. 42<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Pennell’s Our Sentimental Journey through France and Italy. Illustrated. -Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Riley’s Athos; or, The Mountain of the Monks. 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Three in Norway. By Two of Them. Illustrated. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> boards; -2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> -</div> - - -<h3>WORKS OF FICTION.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Anstey’s The Black Poodle, &c. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> boards; 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p>Beaconsfield’s (The Earl of) Novels and Tales. Hughenden Edition, with 2 -Portraits on Steel and 11 Vignettes on Wood. 11 vols. crown 8vo. £2. 2<i>s.</i> -Cheap Edition, 11 vols. crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> each, boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each, cloth.</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>Lothair.</p> - -<p>Sybil.</p> - -<p>Coningsby.</p> - -<p>Tancred.</p> - -<p>Venetia.</p> - -<p>Henrietta Temple.</p> - -<p>Contarini Fleming.</p> - -<p>Alroy, Ixion, &c.</p> - -<p>The Young Duke, &c.</p> - -<p>Vivian Grey.</p> - -<p>Endymion.</p> -</div> - -<p>Gilkes’ Boys and Masters. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Haggard’s (H. Rider) She: a History of Adventure. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — Allan Quatermain. Illustrated. Crown 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Harte (Bret) On the Frontier. Three Stories. 16mo. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — By Shore and Sedge. Three Stories. 16mo. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — In the Carquinez Woods. Crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p>Lyall’s (Edna) The Autobiography of a Slander. Fcp. 1<i>s.</i> sewed.</p> - -<p>Melville’s (Whyte) Novels. 8 vols. fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> each, boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each, cloth.</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>Digby Grand.</p> - -<p>General Bounce.</p> - -<p>Kate Coventry.</p> - -<p>The Gladiators.</p> - -<p>Good for Nothing.</p> - -<p>Holmby House.</p> - -<p>The Interpreter.</p> - -<p>The Queen’s Maries.</p> -</div> - -<p>Molesworth’s (Mrs.) Marrying and Giving in Marriage. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Novels by the Author of ‘The Atelier du Lys’:</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>The Atelier du Lys; or, An Art Student in the Reign of Terror. Crown -8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Mori: a Tale of Modern Rome. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>In the Olden Time: a Tale of the Peasant War in Germany. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Hester’s Venture. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Oliphant’s (Mrs.) Madam. Crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p> — — In Trust: the Story of a Lady and her Lover. Crown 8vo. -1<i>s.</i> boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p>Payn’s (James) The Luck of the Darrells. Crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p> — — Thicker than Water. Crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p>Reader’s Fairy Prince Follow-my-Lead. Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — The Ghost of Brankinshaw; and other Tales. Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>223</span></p> - -<p>Sewell’s (Miss) Stories and Tales. Crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> each, boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth; -2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>Amy Herbert.</p> - -<p>Cleve Hall.</p> - -<p>The Earl’s Daughter.</p> - -<p>Experience of Life.</p> - -<p>Gertrude.</p> - -<p>Ivors.</p> - -<p>A Glimpse of the World.</p> - -<p>Katharine Ashton.</p> - -<p>Laneton Parsonage.</p> - -<p>Margaret Percival.</p> - -<p>Ursula.</p> -</div> - -<p>Stevenson’s (R. L.) The Dynamiter. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> sewed; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p> — — Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> -sewed; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p>Trollope’s (Anthony) Novels. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> each, boards; 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth.</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>The Warden</p> - -<p>Barchester Towers.</p> -</div> -</div> - - -<h3>POETRY AND THE DRAMA.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Armstrong’s (Ed. J.) Poetical Works. Fcp. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — (G. F.) Poetical Works:—</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>Poems, Lyrical and Dramatic. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Ugone: a Tragedy. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>A Garland from Greece. Fcp. 8vo. 9<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>King Saul. Fcp. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>King David. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>King Solomon. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Stories of Wicklow. Fcp. 8vo. 9<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Mephistopheles in Broadcloth: a Satire. Fcp. 8vo. 4<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Victoria Regina et Imperatrix: a Jubilee Song from Ireland, 1887. 4to. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>Ballads of Berks. Edited by Andrew Lang. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Bowen’s Harrow Songs and other Verses. Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; or printed on -hand-made paper, 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Bowdler’s Family Shakespeare. Medium 8vo. 14<i>s.</i> 6 vols. fcp. 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Dante’s Divine Comedy, translated by James Innes Minchin. Crown 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Goethe’s Faust, translated by Birds. Large crown 8vo. 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — — translated by Webb. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — — edited by Selss. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Ingelow’s Poems. 2 Vols. fcp. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i>; Vol. 3, fcp. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Lyrical and other Poems. Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth, plain; 3<i>s.</i> cloth, -gilt edges.</p> - -<p>Kendall’s (Mrs.) Dreams to Sell. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Macaulay’s Lays of Ancient Rome. Illustrated by Scharf. 4to. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> -Popular Edition, fcp. 4to. 6<i>d.</i> swd., 1<i>s.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p> — Lays of Ancient Rome, with Ivry and the Armada. Illustrated by -Weguelin. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> gilt edges.</p> - -<p>Nesbit’s Lays and Legends. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Newman’s The Dream of Gerontius. 16mo. 6<i>d.</i> sewed; 1<i>s.</i> cloth.</p> - -<p> — Verses on Various Occasions. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Reader’s Voices from Flowerland, a Birthday Book, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> roan.</p> - -<p>Southey’s Poetical Works. Medium 8vo. 14<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses. Fcp. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Virgil’s Æneid, translated by Conington. Crown 8vo. 9<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Poems, translated into English Prose. Crown 8vo. 9<i>s.</i></p> -</div> - - -<h3>AGRICULTURE, HORSES, DOGS, AND CATTLE.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Fitzwygram’s Horses and Stables. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Lloyd’s The Science of Agriculture. 8vo. 12<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Loudon’s Encyclopædia of Agriculture. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Prothero’s Pioneers and Progress of English Farming. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Steel’s Diseases of the Ox, a Manual of Bovine Pathology. 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — — Dog. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>224</span></p> - -<p>Stonehenge’s Dog in Health and Disease. Square crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Greyhound. Square crown 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Taylor’s Agricultural Note Book. Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Ville on Artificial Manures, by Crookes. 8vo. 21<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Youatt’s Work on the Dog. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — — — — Horse. 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - - -<h3>SPORTS AND PASTIMES.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>The Badminton Library of Sports and Pastimes. Edited by the Duke of Beaufort -and A. E. T. Watson. With numerous Illustrations. Cr. 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<div class="sublist"> -<p>Hunting, by the Duke of Beaufort, &c.</p> - -<p>Fishing, by H. Cholmondeley-Pennell, &c. 2 vols.</p> - -<p>Racing, by the Earl of Suffolk, &c.</p> - -<p>Shooting, by Lord Walsingham, &c. 2 vols.</p> - -<p>Cycling. By Viscount Bury.</p> - -<p>Athletics and Football. By Montague Shearman, &c.</p> - -<p>Boating. By W. B. Woodgate, &c.</p> - -<p>Cricket. By A. G. Steel, &c.</p> - -<p>Driving. By the Duke of Beaufort, &c.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="center fs85"><sup><big>*</big></sup><sub>*</sub><sup><big>*</big></sup> - <i>Other Volumes in preparation.</i></p> - -<div class="booklist"> -<p>Campbell-Walker’s Correct Card, or How to Play at Whist. Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Ford’s Theory and Practice of Archery, revised by W. Butt. 8vo. 14<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Francis’s Treatise on Fishing in all its Branches. Post 8vo. 15<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Longman’s Chess Openings. Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Pease’s The Cleveland Hounds as a Trencher-Fed Pack. Royal 8vo. 18<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Pole’s Theory of the Modern Scientific Game of Whist. Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Proctor’s How to Play Whist. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Ronalds’s Fly-Fisher’s Entomology. 8vo. 14<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Wilcocks’s Sea-Fisherman. Post 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> -</div> - - -<h3>ENCYCLOPÆDIAS, DICTIONARIES, AND BOOKS OF REFERENCE.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Acton’s Modern Cookery for Private Families. Fcp 8vo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Ayre’s Treasury of Bible Knowledge. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Cabinet Lawyer (The), a Popular Digest of the Laws of England. Fcp. 8vo. 9<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Cates’s Dictionary of General Biography. Medium 8vo. 28<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Gwilt’s Encyclopædia of Architecture. 8vo. 52<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Keith Johnston’s Dictionary of Geography, or General Gazetteer. 8vo. 42<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>M’Culloch’s Dictionary of Commerce and Commercial Navigation. 8vo. 63<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Maunder’s Biographical Treasury. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Historical Treasury. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Scientific and Literary Treasury. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Treasury of Bible Knowledge, edited by Ayre. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Treasury of Botany, edited by Lindley & Moore. Two Parts, 12<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Treasury of Geography. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Treasury of Knowledge and Library of Reference. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Treasury of Natural History. Fcp. 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Quain’s Dictionary of Medicine. Medium 8vo. 31<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, or in 2 vols. 34<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Reeve’s Cookery and Housekeeping. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Rich’s Dictionary of Roman and Greek Antiquities. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Roget’s Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases. Crown 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Willich’s Popular Tables, by Marriott. Crown 8vo. 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - - -<h3>WORKS BY MRS. DE SALIS.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Savouries à la Mode. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Entrées à la Mode. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Soups and Dressed Fish à la Mode. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Sweets and Supper Dishes, à la Mode. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Oysters à la Mode. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Vegetables à la Mode. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>225</span></p> -<h2> -A SELECTION<br /> -OF<br /> -EDUCATIONAL WORKS. -</h2> -</div> - - -<div class="figcenter w40"> - <img src="images/dec4.jpg" alt="Decorative rule" class="w40" /> -</div> - -<h3>TEXT-BOOKS OF SCIENCE.</h3> -<p class="spacedpara noindent center fs80">FULLY ILLUSTRATED.</p> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Abney’s Treatise on Photography. Fcp. 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Anderson’s Strength of Materials. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Armstrong’s Organic Chemistry. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Ball’s Elements of Astronomy. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Barry’s Railway Appliances. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Bauerman’s Systematic Mineralogy. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Descriptive Mineralogy. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Bloxam and Huntington’s Metals. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Glazebrook’s Physical Optics. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Glazebrook and Shaw’s Practical Physics. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Gore’s Art of Electro-Metallurgy. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Griffin’s Algebra and Trigonometry. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Notes and Solutions, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Holmes’s The Steam Engine. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Jenkin’s Electricity and Magnetism. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Maxwell’s Theory of Heat. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Merrifield’s Technical Arithmetic and Mensuration. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Key, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Miller’s Inorganic Chemistry. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Preece and Sivewright’s Telegraphy. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Rutley’s Study of Rocks, a Text-Book of Petrology. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Shelley’s Workshop Appliances. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Thomé’s Structural and Physiological Botany. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Thorpe’s Quantitative Chemical Analysis. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Thorpe and Muir’s Qualitative Analysis. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Tilden’s Chemical Philosophy. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> With Answers to Problems. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Unwin’s Elements of Machine Design. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Watson’s Plane and Solid Geometry. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - - -<h3>THE GREEK LANGUAGE.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Bloomfield’s College and School Greek Testament. Fcp. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Bolland & Lang’s Politics of Aristotle. Post 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Collis’s Chief Tenses of the Greek Irregular Verbs. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Pontes Græci, Stepping-Stone to Greek Grammar. 12mo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Praxis Græca, Etymology. 12mo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Greek Verse-Book, Praxis Iambica. 12mo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Farrar’s Brief Greek Syntax and Accidence. 12mo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Greek Grammar Rules for Harrow School. 12mo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Geare’s Notes on Thucydides. Book I. Fcp. 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>226</span></p> - -<p>Hewitt’s Greek Examination-Papers. 12mo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Isbister’s Xenophon’s Anabasis, Books I. to III. with Notes. 12mo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Kennedy’s Greek Grammar. 12mo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Liddell & Scott’s English-Greek Lexicon. 4to. 36<i>s.</i>; Square 12mo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Mahaffy’s Classical Greek Literature. Crown 8vo. Poets, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Prose Writers, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Morris’s Greek Lessons. Square 18mo. Part I. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; Part II. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Parry’s Elementary Greek Grammar. 12mo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Plato’s Republic, Book I. Greek Text, English Notes by Hardy. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Sheppard and Evans’s Notes on Thucydides. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Thucydides, Book IV. with Notes by Barton and Chavasse. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Valpy’s Greek Delectus, improved by White. 12mo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Key, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>White’s Xenophon’s Expedition of Cyrus, with English Notes. 12mo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Wilkins’s Manual of Greek Prose Composition. Crown 8vo. 5<i>s.</i> Key, 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Exercises in Greek Prose Composition. Crown 8vo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Key, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — New Greek Delectus. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Key, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Progressive Greek Delectus. 12mo. 4<i>s.</i> Key, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Progressive Greek Anthology. 12mo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Scriptores Attici, Excerpts with English Notes. Crown 8vo. 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Speeches from Thucydides translated. Post 8vo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Yonge’s English-Greek Lexicon. 4to. 21<i>s.</i>; Square 12mo. 8<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - - -<h3>THE LATIN LANGUAGE.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Bradley’s Latin Prose Exercises. 12mo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Key, 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Continuous Lessons in Latin Prose. 12mo. 5<i>s.</i> Key, 5<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Cornelius Nepos, improved by White. 12mo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Eutropius, improved by White. 12mo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Ovid’s Metamorphoses, improved by White. 12mo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Select Fables of Phædrus, improved by White. 12mo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Collis’s Chief Tenses of Latin Irregular Verbs. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Pontes Latini, Stepping-Stone to Latin Grammar. 12mo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Hewitt’s Latin Examination-Papers. 12mo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Isbister’s Cæsar, Books I.-VII. 12mo. 4<i>s.</i>; or with Reading Lessons, 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Cæsar’s Commentaries, Books I.-V. 12mo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — First Book of Cæsar’s Gallic War. 12mo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Jerram’s Latiné Reddenda. Crown 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Kennedy’s Child’s Latin Primer, or First Latin Lessons. 12mo. 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Child’s Latin Accidence. 12mo. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Elementary Latin Grammar. 12mo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Elementary Latin Reading Book, or Tirocinium Latinum. 12mo. 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Latin Prose, Palæstra Stili Latini. 12mo. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Latin Vocabulary. 12mo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Subsidia Primaria, Exercise Books to the Public School Latin Primer. -I. Accidence and Simple Construction, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> II. Syntax, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Key to the Exercises in Subsidia Primaria, Parts I. and II. price 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p> — Subsidia Primaria, III. the Latin Compound Sentence. 12mo. 1<i>s.</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>227</span></p> - -<p> — Curriculum Stili Latini. 12mo. 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Key, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Palæstra Latina, or Second Latin Reading Book. 12mo. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Moody’s Eton Latin Grammar. 12mo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> The Accidence separately, 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Morris’s Elementa Latina. Fcp. 8vo. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> Key, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Parry’s Origines Romanæ, from Livy, with English Notes. Crown 8vo. 4<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>The Public School Latin Primer. 12mo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — — — — Grammar, by Rev. Dr. Kennedy. 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Selections from Epistles and Fasti. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Ovid, Select Myths from Metamorphoses. 9<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Phædrus, Select Easy Fables,</p> - -<p>Phædrus, Fables, Books I. & II. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Sallust, Bellum Catilinarium. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Virgil, Georgics, Book IV. 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Virgil, Æneid, Books I. to VI. 1<i>s.</i> each. -Book I. without Vocabulary, 3<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Virgil, Æneid, Books VII. to XII. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>228</span></p> -<h3>THE FRENCH LANGUAGE.</h3> - -<div class="booklist"> - -<p>Albités’s How to Speak French. Fcp. 8vo. 5<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p> — Instantaneous French Exercises. Fcp. 2<i>s.</i> Key, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p>Cassal’s French Genders. Crown 8vo. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p>Cassal & Karcher’s Graduated French Translation Book. 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Crown 8vo. 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> -</div> - -<hr class="hr25" /> - -<div class="noindentcenter"> -<p>LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., London and New York.</p> - -<hr class="hr25" /> - -<p class="fs85 sp2"><i>Spottiswoode & Co. Printers, New-street Square, London.</i></p> -</div> - -<div class="pbb"> - <hr class="pb sp2" /> -</div> - -<!--Transcriber's Notes--> - -<div class="tnbox"> -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">Transcriber's Notes</h2> -</div> - -<p class="spacedpara">The following changes have been made to the text as printed:</p> - <ol class="ol_1"> - <li>Footnotes have been placed close to their respective markers and renumbered - sequentially within each chapter. - </li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_2" title="Go to Page 2">2</a>: <i>robustnesss</i> changed to <i>robustness</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_6" title="Go to Page 6">6</a>: Omit full stop after <i>1½d. a pound,</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_6" title="Go to Page 6">6</a>: <i>Beakfast</i> changed to <i>Breakfast</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_6" title="Go to Page 6">6</a> (head of third column of table): full stop inserted after <i>oz</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_11" title="Go to Page 11">11</a>: <i>walk through live</i> changed to <i>walk through life</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_14" title="Go to Page 14">14</a>: full stop inserted after <i>Wednesday meals</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_15" title="Go to Page 15">15</a>, Wednesday Meals—Tea: <i>3 lbs. Bread</i> changed to <i>3 lb. Bread</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_30" title="Go to Page 30">30</a>: <i>they no not think</i> changed to <i>they do not think</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_37" title="Go to Page 37">37</a>: <i>comtemplation</i> changed to <i>contemplation</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_73" title="Go to Page 73">73</a>: <i>philanthrophy</i> changed to <i>philanthropy</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_117" title="Go to Page 117">117</a>, page <a href="#Page_118" title="Go to Page 118">118</a> (twice): <i>Israel’s</i> changed to <i>Israels’</i> - (Jozef Israels, Dutch painter, 1824-1911). - </li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_118" title="Go to Page 118">118</a>: <i>the tender springtime</i> changed to <i>spring-time</i> - (hyphenation was inconsistent within a single sentence). - </li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_176" title="Go to Page 176">176</a>: <i>develope</i> changed to <i>develop</i>.</li> - <li>Page <a href="#Page_219" title="Go to Page 219">219</a>: comma inserted in heading after <i>Chemistry</i>.</li> - </ol> - -<p class="spacedpara">The following anomalies in the printed text are noted, but no change has been made:</p> - <ol class="ol_1"> - <li>Inconsistent hyphenations, spellings and punctuation have been retained as printed, - except as noted above. [These are discrete essays, written at different times - by two hands and reprinted from a range of publications.] - </li> - <li>On Page <a href="#Page_6" title="Go to Page 6">6</a>, third column of the table: one of the values in the - row labelled '3 oz. Dripping' is blank in the original work. - </li> - </ol> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRACTICABLE SOCIALISM ***</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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