In Darkest England and the Way Out Part 22

There are many who are not lost, who need help. A little a.s.sistance given to-day will perhaps prevent the need of having to save them to-morrow. There are some, who, after they have been rescued, will still need a friendly hand. The very service which we have rendered them at starting makes it obligatory upon us to finish the good work. Hitherto it may be objected that the Scheme has dealt almost exclusively with those who are more or less disreputable and desperate. This was inevitable. We obey our Divine Master and seek to save those who are lost. But because, as I said at the beginning, urgency is claimed rightly for those who have no helper, we do not, therefore, forget the needs and the aspirations of the decent working people who are poor indeed, but who keep their feet, who have not fallen, and who help themselves and help each other. They const.i.tute the bulk of the nation. There is an uppercrust and a submerged tenth.

But the hardworking poor people, who earn a pound a week or less, const.i.tute in every land the majority of the population. We cannot forget them, for we are at home with them. We belong to them and many thousands of them belong to us. We are always studying how to help them, and we think this can be done in many ways, some of which I proceed to describe.

SECTION 1.--IMPROVED LODGINGS.

The necessity for a superior cla.s.s of lodgings for the poor men rescued at our Shelters has been forcing itself already upon our notice, and demanding attention. One of the first things that happens when a man, lifted out of the gutter, has obtained a situation, and is earning a decent livelihood, is for him to want some better accommodation than that afforded at the Shelters. We have some hundreds on our hands now who can afford to pay for greater comfort and seclusion.

These are continually saying to us something like the following: --

The Shelters are all very well when a man is down in his luck.

They have been a good thing for us; in fact, had it not been for them, we would still have been without a friend, sleeping on the Embankment, getting our living dishonestly, or not getting a living at all.

We have now got work, and want a bed to sleep on, and a room to ourselves, and a box, or something where we can stow away our bits of things. Cannot you do something for us?" We have replied that there were Lodging-houses elsewhere, which, now that they were in work, they could afford to pay for, where they would obtain the comfort they desired. To this they answer, "That is all very well. We know there are these places, and that we could go to them. But then," they said, "you see, here in the Shelters are our mates, who think as we do.

And there is the prayer, and the meeting, and kind influence every night, that helps to keep us straight. We would like a better place, but if you cannot find us one we would rather stop in the Shelter and sleep on the floor, as we have been doing, than go to something more complete, get into bad company, and so fall back again to where we were before."

But this, although natural, is not desirable; for, if the process went on, in course of time the whole of the Shelter Depots would be taken up by persons who had risen above the cla.s.s for whom they were originally destined. I propose, therefore, to draft those who get on, but wish to continue in connection with the Army, into a superior lodging-house, a sort of POOR MAN'S METROPOLE, managed on the same principles, but with better accommodation in every way, which, I antic.i.p.ate, would be self-supporting from the first. In these homes there would be separate dormitories, good sitting-rooms, cooking conveniences, baths, a hall for meetings, and many other comforts, of which all would have the benefit at as low a figure above cost price as will not only pay interest on the original outlay, but secure us against any shrinkage of capital.

Something superior in this direction will also be required for the women. Having begun, we must go on. Hitherto I have proposed to deal only with single men and single women, but one of the consequences of getting hold of these men very soon makes itself felt. Your ragged, hungry, dest.i.tute Out-of-Work in almost every case is married.

When he comes to us he comes as single and is dealt with as such, but after you rouse in him aspirations for better things he remembers the wife whom he has probably enough deserted, or left from sheer inability to provide her anything to eat. As soon as such a man finds himself under good influence and fairly employed his first thought is to go and look after the "Missis." There is very little reality about any change of heart in a married man who does not thus turn in sympathy and longing towards his wife, and the more successful we are in dealing with these people the more inevitable it is that we shall be confronted with married couple's who in turn demand that we should provide for them lodgings. This we propose to do also on a commercial footing.

I see greater developments in this direction, one of which will be described in the chapter relating to Suburban Cottages.

The Model-lodging House for Married People is, however, one of those things that must be provided as an adjunct of the Food and Shelter Depots.

SECTION 2.--MODEL SUBURBAN VILLAGES.

As I have repeatedly stated already, but will state once more, for it is important enough to bear endless repet.i.tion, one of the first steps which must inevitably be taken in the reformation of this cla.s.s, is to make for them decent, healthy, pleasant homes, or help them to make them for themselves, which, if possible, is far better. I do not regard the inst.i.tution of any first, second, or third-cla.s.s lodging-houses as affording anything but palliatives of the existing distress.

To subst.i.tute life in a boarding-house for life in the streets is, no doubt, an immense advance, but it is by no means the ultimatum.

Life in a boarding-house is better than the worst, but it is far from being the best form of human existence. Hence, the object I constantly keep in view is how to pilot those persons who have been set on their feet again by means of the Food and Shelter Depots, and who have obtained employment in the City, into the possession of homes of their own.

Neither can I regard the one, or at most two, rooms in which the large majority of the inhabitants of our great cities are compelled to spend their days, as a solution of the question. The overcrowding which fills every separate room of a tenement with a human litter, and compels family life from the cradle to the grave to be lived within the four walls of a single apartment, must go on reproducing in endless succession all the terrible evils which such a state of things must inevitably create.

Neither can I be satisfied with the vast, unsightly piles of barrack-like buildings, which are only a slight advance upon the Union Bastille--dubbed Model Industrial Dwellings--so much in fashion at present, as being a satisfactory settlement of the burning question of the housing of the poor. As a contribution to this question, I propose the establishment of a series of Industrial Settlements or Suburban Villages, lying out in the country, within a reasonable distance of all our great cities, composed of cottages of suitable size and construction, and with all needful comfort and accommodation for the families of working-men, the rent of which, together with the railway fare, and other economic conveniences, should be within the reach of a family of moderate income.

This proposal lies slightly apart from the scope of this book, otherwise I should be disposed to elaborate the project at greater length. I may say, however, that what I here propose has been carefully thought out, and is of a perfectly practical character.

In the planning of it I have received some valuable a.s.sistance from a friend who has had considerable experience in the building trade, and he stakes his professional reputation on its feasibility.

The following, however, may be taken as a rough outline: --

The Village should not be more than twelve miles from town; should be in a dry and healthy situation, and on a line of railway. It is not absolutely necessary that it should be near a station, seeing that the company would, for their own interests, immediately erect one.

The Cottages should be built of the best material and workmanship.

This would be effected most satisfactorily by securing a contract for the labour only, the projectors of the Scheme purchasing the materials and supplying them direct from the manufacturers to the builders.

The cottages would consist of three or four rooms, with a scullery, and out-building in the garden. The cottages should be built in terraces, each having a good garden attached. Arrangements should be made for the erection of from one thousand to two thousand houses at the onset. In the Village a Co-operative Goods Store should be established, supplying everything that was really necessary for the villagers at the most economic prices. The sale of intoxicating drink should be strictly forbidden on the Estate, and, if possible, the landowner from whom the land is obtained should be tied off from allowing any licences to be held on any other portion of the adjoining land. It is thought that the Railway Company, in consideration of the inconvenience and suffering they have inflicted on the poor, and in their own interests, might be induced to make the following advantageous arrangements: --

(1) The conveyance of each member actually living in the village to and from London at the rate of sixpence per week. Each pa.s.s should have on it the portrait of the owner, and be fastened to some article of the dress, and be available only by Workmen's Trains running early and late and during certain hours of the day, when the trains are almost empty.

(2) The conveyance of goods and parcels should be at half the ordinary rates. It is reasonable to suppose that large landowners would gladly give one hundred acres of land in view of the immensely advanced values of the surrounding property which would immediately follow, seeing that the erection of one thousand or two thousand cottages would const.i.tute the nucleus of a much larger Settlement.

Lastly, the rent of a four-roomed cottage must not exceed 3s. per week.

Add to this the sixpenny ticket to and from London, and you have 3s. 6d.

and if the company should insist on 1s., it will make 4s., for which there would be all the advantages of a comfortable cottage--of which it would be possible for the tenant to become the owner--a good garden, pleasant surroundings, and other influences promotive of the health and happiness of the family. It is hardly necessary to remark that in connection with this Village there will be perfect freedom of opinion on all matters. A glance at the ordinary homes of the poor people of this great City will at once a.s.sure us that such a village would be a veritable Paradise to them, and that were four, five, or six settlements provided at once they would not contain a t.i.the of the people who would throng to occupy them.

SECTION 3.--THE POOR MAN'S BANK.

If the love of money is the root of all evil, the want of money is the cause of an immensity of evil and trouble. The moment you begin practically to alleviate the miseries of the people, you discover that the eternal want of pence is one of their greatest difficulties.

In my most sanguine moments I have never dreamed of smoothing this difficulty out of the lot of man, but it is surely no unattainable ideal to establish a Poor Man's Bank, which will extend to the lower middle cla.s.s and the working population the advantages of the credit system, which is the very foundation of our boasted commerce.

It might be better that there should be no such thing as credit, that no one should lend money, and that everyone should be compelled to rely solely upon whatever ready money he may possess from day to day.

But if so, let us apply the principle all round; do not let us glory in our world-wide commerce and boast ourselves in our riches, obtained, in so many cases, by the ignoring of this principle. If it is right for a great merchant to have dealings with his banker, if it is indispensable for the due carrying on of the business of the rich men that they should have at their elbow a credit system which will from time to time accommodate them with needful advances and enable them to stand up against the pressure of sudden demands, which otherwise would wreck them, then surely the case is still stronger for providing a similar resource for the smaller men, the weaker men. At present Society is organised far too much on the principle of giving to him who hath so that he shall have more abundantly, and taking away from him who hath not even that which he hath.

If we are to really benefit the poor, we can only do so by practical measures. We have merely to look round and see the kind of advantages which wealthy men find indispensable for the due management of their business, and ask ourselves whether poor men cannot be supplied with the same opportunities. The reason why they are not is obvious.

To supply the needs of the rich is a means of making yourself rich; to supply the needs of the poor will involve you in trouble so out of proportion to the profit that the game may not be worth the candle.

Men go into banking and other businesses for the sake of obtaining what the American humourist said was the chief end of man in these modern times, namely, "ten per cent." To obtain a ten per cent. what will not men do? They will penetrate the bowels of the earth, explore the depths of the sea, ascend the snow-capped mountain's highest peak, or navigate the air, if they can be guaranteed a ten per cent. I do not venture to suggest that the business of a Poor Man's Bank would yield ten per cent., or even five, but I think it might be made to pay its expenses, and the resulting gain to the community would be enormous.

Ask any merchant in your acquaintance where his business would be if he had no banker, and then, when you have his answer, ask yourself whether it would not be an object worth taking some trouble to secure, to furnish the great ma.s.s of our fellow countrymen, on sound business principles with the advantages of the credit system, which is found to work so beneficially for the "well-to-do" few.

Some day I hope the State may be sufficiently enlightened to take up this business itself; at present it is left in the hands of the p.a.w.nbroker and the loan agency, and a set of sharks, who cruelly prey upon the interests of the poor. The establishment of land banks, where the poor man is almost always a peasant, has been one of the features of modern legislation in Russia, Germany, and elsewhere.

The inst.i.tution of a Poor Man's Bank will be, I hope, before long, one of the recognised objects of our own government.

Pending that I venture to throw out a suggestion, without in any way pledging myself to add this branch of activity to the already gigantic range of operations foreshadowed in this book--Would it not be possible for some philanthropists with capital to establish on clearly defined principles a Poor Man's Bank for the making of small loans on good security, or making advances to those who are in danger of being overwhelmed by sudden financial pressure--in fact, for doing for the "little man" what all the banks do for the "big man"? Meanwhile, should it enter into the heart of some benevolently disposed possessor of wealth to give the price of a racehorse, or of an "old master,"

to form the nucleus of the necessary capital, I will certainly experiment in this direction.

I can antic.i.p.ate the sneer of the cynic who scoffs at what he calls my glorified p.a.w.nshop. I am indifferent to his sneers. A Mont de Piete-- the very name (Mount of Piety) shows that the Poor Man's Bank is regarded as anything but an objectionable inst.i.tution across the Channel--might be an excellent inst.i.tution in England. Owing, however, to the vested interests of the existing traders it might be impossible for the State to establish it, excepting at a ruinous expense. There would be no difficulty, however, of inst.i.tuting a private Mont de Piete, which would confer an incalculable boon upon the struggling poor.

Further, I am by no means indisposed to recognise the necessity of dealing with this subject in connection with the Labour Bureau, provided that one clearly recognised principle can be acted upon.

That principle is that a man shall be free to bind himself as security for the repayment of a loan, that is to pledge himself to work for his rations until such time as he has repaid capital and interest.

An ill.u.s.tration or two will explain what I mean. Here is a carpenter who comes to our Labour shed; he is an honest, decent man, who has by sickness or some other calamity been reduced to dest.i.tution. He has by degrees p.a.w.ned one article after another to keep body and soul together, until at last he has been compelled to p.a.w.n his tools.

We register him, and an employer comes along who wants a carpenter whom we can recommend. We at once suggest this man, but then arises this difficulty. He has no tools; what are we to do? As things are at present, the man loses the job and continues on our hands. Obviously it is most desirable in the interest of the community that the man should get his tools out of p.a.w.n; but who is to take the responsibility of advancing the money to redeem them? This difficulty might be met, I think, by the man entering into a legal undertaking to make over his wages to us, or such proportion of them as would be convenient to his circ.u.mstances, we in return undertaking to find him in food and shelter until such time as he has repaid the advance made. That obligation it would be the truest kindness to enforce with Rhadamantine severity.

Until the man is out of debt he is not his own master. All that he can make over his actual rations and Shelter money should belong to his creditor. Of course such an arrangement might be varied indefinitely by private agreement; the repayment of instalments could be spread ever a longer or shorter time, but the mainstay of the whole principle would be the execution of a legal agreement by which the man makes over the whole product of his labour to the Bank until he has repaid, his debt.

Take another instance. A clerk who has been many years in a situation and has a large family, which he has brought up respectably and educated. He has every prospect of retiring in a few years upon a superannuating allowance, but is suddenly confronted by a claim often through no fault of his own, of a sum of fifty or a hundred pounds, which is quite beyond his means. He has been a careful saving man, who has never borrowed a penny in his life, and does not know where to turn in his emergency. If he can not raise this money he will be sold up, his family will be scattered, his situation and his prospective pension will be lost, and blank ruin will stare him in the face.

Now, were he in receipt of an income of ten times the amount, he would probably have a banking account, and, in consequence, be able to secure an advance of all he needed from his banker. Why should he not be able to pledge his salary, or a portion of it, to an Inst.i.tution which would enable him to pay off his debt, on terms that, while sufficiently remunerative to the bank, would not unduly embarra.s.s him?

At present what does the poor wretch do? He consults his friends, who, it is quite possible, are as hard up as himself, or he applies to some loan agency, and as likely as not falls into the hands of sharpers, who indeed, let him have the money, but at interest altogether out of proportion to the risk which they run, and use the advantage which their position gives them to extort every penny he has. A great black book written within and without in letters of lamentation, mourning, and woe might be written on the dealings of these usurers with their victims in every land.

It is of little service denouncing these extortioners. They have always existed, and probably always will; but what we can do is to circ.u.mscribe the range of their operations and the number of their victims. This can only be done by a legitimate and merciful provision for these poor creatures in their hours of desperate need, so as to prevent their falling into the hands of these remorseless wretches, who have wrecked the fortunes of thousands, and driven many a decent man to suicide or a premature grave.

There are endless ramifications of this principle, which do not need to be described here, but before leaving the subject I may allude to an evil which is a cruel reality, alas! to a mult.i.tude of unfortunate men and women. I refer to the working of the Hire System. The decent poor man or woman who is anxious to earn an honest penny by the use of, it may be a mangle, or a sewing-machine, a lathe, or some other indispensable instrument, and is without the few pounds necessary to buy it, must take it on the Hire System--that is to say, for the accommodation of being allowed to pay for the machine by instalments-- he is charged, in addition to the full market value of his purchase, ten or twenty times the amount of what would be a fair rate of interest, and more than this if he should at any time, through misfortune, fail in his payment, the total amount already paid will be confiscated, the machine seized, and the money lost.

Here again we fall back on our a.n.a.logy of what goes on in a small community where neighbours know each other. Take, for instance, when a lad who is recognised as bright, promising, honest, and industrious, who wants to make a start in life which requires some little outlay, his better-to-do neighbour will often a.s.sist him by providing the capital necessary to enable him to make a way for himself in the world.

The neighbour does this because he knows the lad, because the family is at least related by ties of neighbourhood, and the honour of the lad's family is a security upon which a man may safely advance a small sum.

All this would equally apply to a dest.i.tute widow, an artizan suddenly thrown out of work, an orphan family, or the like. In the large City all this kindly helpfulness disappears, and with it go all those small acts of service which are, as it were, the buffers which save men from being crushed to death against the iron walls of circ.u.mstances. We must try to replace them in some way or other if we are to get back, not to the Garden of Eden, but to the ordinary conditions of life, as they exist in a healthy, small community. No inst.i.tution, it is true, can ever replace the magic bond of personal friendship, but if we have the whole ma.s.s of Society permeated in every direction by brotherly a.s.sociations established for the purpose of mutual help and sympathising counsel, it is not an impossible thing to believe that we shall be able to do something to restore the missing element in modern civilisation.

SECTION 4.--THE POOR MAN'S LAWYER.

The moment you set about dealing with the wants of the people, you discover that many of their difficulties are not material, but moral. There never was a greater mistake than to imagine that you have only to fill a man's stomach, and clothe his back in order to secure his happiness. Man is, much more than a digestive apparatus, liable to get out of order. Hence, while it is important to remember that man has a stomach, it is also necessary to bear in mind that he has a heart, and a mind that is frequently sorely troubled by difficulties which, if he lived in a friendly world, would often disappear. A man, and still more a woman, stands often quite as much in need of a trusted adviser as he or she does of a dinner or a dress.

Many a poor soul is miserable all the day long, and gets dragged down deeper and deeper into the depths of sin and sorrow and despair for want of a sympathising friend, who can give her advice, and make her feel that somebody in the world cares for her, and will help her if they can.

If we are to bring back the sense of brotherhood to the world, we must confront this difficulty. G.o.d, it was said in old time, setteth the desolate in families; but somehow, in our time, the desolate wander alone in the midst of a careless and unsympathising world. "There is no-one who cares for my soul. There is no creature loves me, and if I die no one will pity me," is surely one of the bitterest cries that can burst from a breaking heart. One of the secrets of the success of the Salvation Army is, that the friendless of the world find friends in it. There is not one sinner in the world-- no matter how degraded and dirty he may be--whom my people will not rejoice to take by the hand and pray with, and labour for, if thereby they can but s.n.a.t.c.h him as a brand from the burning. Now, we want to make more use of this, to make the Salvation Army the nucleus of a great agency for bringing comfort and counsel to those who are at their wits' end, feeling as if in the whole world there was no one to whom they could go.