In Darkest England and the Way Out Part 16

I'll knock the vitals out of yer. None of your ---- impudence to me.

---- your ---- eyes, what do you mean by telling me that? You know what you ha' done, and now you are going to the Salvation Army.

I'll let them know you, you dirty rascal." The man shifted his pipe.

"What's the matter?" "Matter!" screamed the virago hoa.r.s.ely." ---- yer life, don't you know what's the matter? I'll matter ye, you ---- hound. By G.o.d! I will, as sure as I'm alive. Matter! you know what's the matter." And so she went on, the men standing silently smoking until at last she took herself off her mouth full of oaths and cursing, to the public-house. It seemed as though the presence, and spirit, and words of the Officer, who still went on with the message of mercy, had some strange effect upon them, which made these poor wretches impervious to the taunting, bitter sarcasms of this brazen, blatant virago.

"G.o.d is love." Was it not, then, the accents of G.o.d's voice that sounded there above the din of the street and the swearing of the slums? Yea, verily, and that voice ceases not and will not cease, so long as the Slum Sisters fight under the banner of the Salvation Army.

To form an idea of the immense amount of good, temporal and spiritual, which the Slum Sister is doing; you need to follow them into the kennels where they live, preaching the Gospel with the mop and the scrubbing brush, and driving out the devil with soap and water.

In one of our Slum posts, where the Officer's rooms were on the ground floor, about fourteen other families lived in the same house.

One little water-closet in the back yard had to do service for the whole place. As for the dirt, one Officer writes, "It is impossible to scrub the Homes; some of them are in such a filthy condition.

When they have a fire the ashes are left to acc.u.mulate for days.

The table is very seldom, if ever, properly cleaned, dirty cups and saucers lie about it, together with bits of bread, and if they have bloaters the bones and heads are left on the table, Sometimes there are pieces of onions mixed up with the rest. The floors are in a very much worse condition than the street pavements, and when they are supposed to clean them they do it with about a pint of dirty water. When they wash, which is rarely, for washing to them seems an unnecessary work, they do it in a quart or two of water, and sometimes boil the things in some old saucepan in which they cook their food. They do this simply because they have no larger vessel to wash in. The vermin fall off the walls and ceiling on you while you are standing in the rooms.

Some of the walls are covered with marks where they have killed them.

Many people in the summer sit on the door steps all night, the reason for this being, that their rooms are so close from the heat and so unendurable from the vermin that they prefer staying out in the cool night air. But as they cannot stay anywhere long without drinking, they send for beer from the neighbouring public--alas! never far away --and pa.s.s it from one doorway to another, the result being singing, shouting and fighting up till three and four o'clock in the morning."

I could fill volumes with stories of the war against vermin, which is part of this campaign in the slums, but the subject is too revolting to those who are often indifferent to the agonies their fellow creatures suffer, so long as their sensitive ears are not shocked by the mention of so painful a subject. Here, for instance, is a sample of the kind of region in which the Slum Sisters spend themselves:

"In an apparently respectable street near Oxford street, the Officers where visiting one day when they saw a very dark staircase leading into a cellar, and thinking it possible that someone might be there they attempted to go down, and yet the staircase was so dark they thought it impossible for anyone to be there. However, they tried again and groped their way along in the dark for some time until at last they found the door and entered the room. At first they could not discern anything because of the darkness. But after they got used to it they saw a filthy room. There was no fire in the grate, but the fire-place was heaped up with ashes, an acc.u.mulation of several weeks at least.

At one end of the room there was an old sack of rags and bones partly emptied upon the floor, from which there came a most unpleasant odour.

At the other end lay an old man very ill. The apology for a bed on which he lay was filthy and had neither sheets nor blankets.

His covering consisted of old rags. His poor wife, who attended on him, appeared to be a stranger to soap and water. These Slum Sisters nursed the old people, and on one occasion undertook to do their washing, and they brought it home to their copper for this purpose, but it was so infested with vermin that they did not know how to wash it. Their landlady, who happened to see them, forbade them ever to bring such stuff there any more. The old man, when well enough, worked at his trade, which was tailoring. They had two shillings and sixpence per week from the parish."

Here is a report from the headquarters of our Slum Brigade as to the work which the Slum Sisters have done. It is almost four years since the Slum Work was started in London. The princ.i.p.al work done by our first Officers was that of visiting the sick, cleansing the homes of the Slummers, and of feeding the hungry. The following are a few of the cases of those who have gained temporally, as well as spiritually, through our work: --

Mrs. W.--Of Haggerston Slum. Heavy drinker, wrecked home, husband a drunkard, place dirty and filthy, terribly poor. Saved now over two years, home A1., plenty of employment at cane-chair bottoming; husband now saved also.

Mrs. R.--Drury Lane Slum. Husband and wife, drunkards; husband very lazy, only worked when starved in to it. We found them both out of work, home furnitureless, in debt. She got saved, and our la.s.ses prayed for him to get work. He did so, and went to it. He fell out again a few weeks after, and beat his wife. She sought employment at charing and office cleaning, got it, and has been regularly at work since. He too got work. He is now a teetotaler. The home is very comfortable now, and they are putting money in the bank.

A.M. in the Dials. Was a great drunkard, thriftless, did not go to the trouble of seeking work. Was in a Slum meeting, heard the Captain speak on "Seek first the Kingdom of G.o.d!" called out and said, "Do you mean that if I ask G.o.d for work, He will give it me?"

Of course she said, "Yes." He was converted that night, found work, and is now employed in the Gas Works, Old Kent Road.

Jimmy is a soldier in the Boro' Slum! Was starving when he got converted through being out of work. Through joining the Army, he was turned out of his home. He found work, and now owns a coffee-stall in Billingsgate Market, and is doing well.

Sergeant R.--Of Marylebone Slum. Used to drink, lived in a wretched place in the famous Charles Street, had work at two places, at one of which he got 5s. a week and the other 10s., when he got saved; this was starvation wages, on which to keep himself, his wife, and four children. At the 10s. a week work he had to deliver drink for a spirit merchant; feeling condemned over it, he gave it up, and was out of work for weeks. The brokers were put in, but the Lord rescued him just in time. The 5s. a week employer took him afterwards at 18s., and he is now earning 22s., and has left the ground-floor slum tenement for a better house.

H.--Nine Elms Slum. Was saved on Easter Monday, out of work several weeks before, is a labourer, seems very earnest, in terrible distress.

We allow his wife 2s. 6d. a week for cleaning the hall (to help them).

In addition to that, she gets another 2s. 6d. for nursing, and on that husband, wife, and a couple of children pay the rent of 2s. a week and drag out an existence. I have tried to get work for this man, but have failed.

T.--Of Rotherhithe Slum. Was a great drunkard, is a carpenter; saved about nine months ago, but, having to work in a public-house on a Sunday, he gave it up; he has not been able to get another job, and has nothing but what we have given him for making seats.

Emma Y.--Now a Soldier of the Marylebone Slum Post, was a wild young Slummer when we opened in the Boro'; could be generally seen in the streets, wretchedly clad, her sleeves turned up, idle, only worked occasionally, got saved two years ago, had terrible persecution in her home. We got her a situation, where she has been for nearly eighteen months, and is now a good servant.

Lodging-House Frank.--At twenty-one came into the possession of #750, but, through drink and gambling, lost it all in six or eight months, and for over seven years he has tramped about from Portsmouth, through the South of England, and South Wales, from one lodging-house to another, often starving, drinking when he could get any money; thriftless, idle, no heart for work. We found him in a lodging-house six months ago, living with a fallen girl; got them both saved and married; five weeks after he got work as a carpenter at 30s. a week.

He has a home of his own now, and promises well to make an officer.

The Officer who furnishes the above reports goes on to say: --

I can't call the wretched dwelling home, to which drink had brought Brother and Sister X. From a life of luxury, they drifted down by degrees to one room in a Slum tenement, surrounded by drunkards and the vilest characters. Their lovely half-starved children were compelled to listen to the foulest language, and hear fighting and quarrelling, and alas, alas, not only to hear it in the adjoining rooms, but witness it within their own. For over two years they have been delivered from the power of the cursed drink. The old rookery is gone, and now they have a comfortably-furnished home. Their children give evidence of being truly converted, and have a lively grat.i.tude for their father's salvation. One boy of eight said, last Christmas Day, "I remember when we had only dry bread for Christmas; but to-day we had a goose and two plum-puddings." Brother X. was dismissed in disgrace from his situation as commercial traveller before his conversion; to-day he is chief man, next to his employer, in a large business house.

He says: --

I and perfectly satisfied that very few of the lowest strata of Society are unwilling to work if they could get it. The wretched hand-to-mouth existence many of them have to live disheartens them, and makes life with them either a feast or a famine, and drives those who have brains enough to crime.

The results of our work in the Slums may be put down as: --

1st. A marked improvement in the cleanliness of the homes and children; disappearance of vermin, and a considerable lessening of drunkenness.

2nd. A greater respect for true religion, and especially that of the Salvation Army.

3rd. A much larger amount of work is being done now than before our going there.

4th. The rescue of many fallen girls.

5th. The Shelter work seems to us a development of the Slum work.

In connection with our Scheme, we propose to immediately increase the numbers of these Slum Sisters, and to add to their usefulness by directly connecting their operations with the Colony, enabling them thereby to help the poor people to conditions of life more favourable to health, morals, and religion. This would be accomplished by getting some of them employment in the City, which must necessarily result in better homes and surroundings, or in the opening up for others of a straight course from the Slums to the Farm Colony.

SECTION 2.--THE TRAVELLING HOSPITAL.

Of course, there is only one real remedy for this state of things, and that is to take the people away from the wretched hovels in which they sicken, suffer, and die, with less comfort and consideration than the cattle in the stalls and styes of many a country Squire.

And this is certainly our ultimate ambition, but for the present distress something might be done on the lines of district nursing, which is only in very imperfect operation.

I have been thinking that if a little Van, drawn by a pony, could be fitted up with what is ordinarily required by the sick and dying, and trot round amongst these abodes of desolation, with a couple of nurses trained for the business, it might be of immense service, without being very costly. They could have a few simple instruments, so as to draw a tooth or lance an abscess, and what was absolutely requisite for simple surgical operations. A little oil-stove for hot water to prepare a poultice, or a hot foment, or a soap wash, and a number of other necessaries for nursing, could be carried with ease.

The need for this will only be appreciated by those who know how utterly bereft of all the comforts and conveniences for attending to the smallest matters in sickness which prevails in these abodes of wretchedness. It may be suggested, why don't the people when they are ill go to the hospital? To which we simply reply that they won't.

They cling to their own bits of rooms and to the companionship of the members of their own families, brutal as they often are, and would rather stay and suffer, and die in the midst of all the filth and squalor that surrounds them in their own dens, than go to the big house, which, to them, looks very like a prison.

The sufferings of the wretched occupants of the Slums that we have been describing, when sick and unable to help themselves, makes the organisation of some system of nursing them in their own homes a Christian duty. Here are a handful of cases, gleaned almost at random from the reports of our Slum Sisters, which will show the value of the agency above described: --

Many of those who are sick have often only one room, and often several children. The Officers come across many cases where, with no one to look after them, they have to lie for hours without food or nourishment of any kind. Sometimes the neighbours will take them in a cup of tea.

It is really a mystery how they live.

A poor woman in Drury Lane was paralyzed. She had no one to attend to her; she lay on the floor, on a stuffed sack, and an old piece of cloth to cover her. Although it was winter, she very seldom had any fire.

She had no garments to wear, and but very little to eat.

Another poor woman, who was very ill, was allowed a little money by her daughter to pay her rent and get her food; but very frequently she had not the strength to light a fire or to get herself food. She was parted from her husband because of his cruelty. Often she lay for hours without a soul to visit or help her.

Adjutant McClellan found a man lying on a straw mattress in a very bad condition. The room was filthy; the smell made the Officer feel ill.

The man had been lying for days without having anything done for him.

A cup of water was by his side. The Officers vomited from the terrible smells of this place. Frequently sick people are found who need the continual application of hot poultices, but who are left with a cold one for hours.

In Marylebone the Officers visited a poor old woman who was very ill.

She lived in an underground back kitchen, with hardly a ray of light and never a ray of sunshine. Her bed was made up on some egg boxes.

She had no one to look after her, except a drunken daughter, who very often, when drunk, used to knock the poor old woman about very badly.

The Officers frequently found that she had not eaten any food up to twelve o'clock, not even a cup of tea to drink. The only furniture in the room was a small table, an old fender, and a box. The vermin seemed to be innumerable.

A poor woman was taken very ill, but, having a small family, she felt she must get up and wash them. While she was washing the baby she fell down and was unable to move. Fortunately a neighbour came in soon after to ask some question, and saw her lying there. She at once ran and fetched another neighbour. Thinking the poor woman was dead, they got her into bed and sent for a doctor. He said she was in consumption and required quiet and nourishment. This the poor woman could not get, on account of her children. She got up a few hours afterwards. As she was going downstairs she fell down again. The neighbour picked her up and put her back to bed, where for a long time she lay thoroughly prostrated. The Officers took her case in hand, fed, and nursed her, cleaned her room and generally looked after her.